Screenland (Feb-Oct 1949)

Yc OWUl> IVkA Up to a cert-ain point, Shirley Temple bows to routine; after that she makes her own rules By Ben Maddox BESIDE Hie telephone Shirley Temple uses most often there is the most bewildering scratch pad in all Hollywood. If you don't know of its existence, then you don't know the real Shirley. "Isn't it awful?" she prods you, with her gay grin underlining her emphasis. "I realize I should have a nice pad, all ruled off in correct, convenient little spaces. Then I could find a phone number easily. I'd understand what I was doing when I wrote myself a memo. But it isn't that way. because I'm not that way. I realize the value of a system. You don't have to think. Life is so simple. But there are never any surprises. I couldn't stand that! I'll be the sort who wants to wonder, always. So that's why I scribble and jumble everything on this one sad piece of paper. You can see it's practically black. I have a dreadful time distinguishing what I've meant to remind myself." Shirley sighed happily. "So sometimes I just pick out phone numbers and start calling. I don't know whom I'll be getting. It's a marvelous door, however. I get into such unexpected conversations and have to figure out how to extract myself!" All of which goes to prove that Shirley isn't the victim of unparalleled fame. She was brought up to be the wellbalancerl and responsible person she is Shirley and Darryl Zanuck, for whom she's making "Mr. Belvedere Goes To College." today. But, being well-adjusted, she isn't to be dismissed as merely a virtuous symbol of American girlhood. She's definitely, you soon learn, a vivid human being. An intense imagination plus the light touch are Temple traits with which she is constantly peppering her progress. Success automatically brings oceans of publicity on how the winner got to the top. You're familiar with the fine common sense and good breeding the Temple family helped develop in Shirley. What you ought to hear now is the truth about where Shirley makes her own exceptions — for that is where and why her grownup happiness actually begins. She conforms seriously up to a certain point. From the lovable little moppet emerged the Shirley of today . . . intelligent and beautiful with dimples still intact. Her adult philosophy, however, is peppery and imaginative. "I have to be on time and fit into Hollywood's schedule when I am making a new picture. Here at home, I have to try to suit Jack. And Susan. And my family. But the idea that people should live by a set of rigid rules is a horrible one to me. Posing as perfect is just not in me. That's an impossible goal, and I hate pretense. I refuse to be cut-anddried about anything. It's not the things you might claim to do that count. It's probably what you don't do that adds up!" The proper indexed telephone note pad could be quickly ordered. But the ludicrous contrast of her scratch pad and her well-ordered home amuses Shirley. A secretary could be marching at her side, handing her neat little lists of her appointments for the day. "Oh, no!" Shirley cried at a mere mention of such a miserable fate. "What I need," she went on analytically, "is a little black datebook I could carry in my purse. If anyone gives me one, though, I'll lose it fast. I "I can't help being naively youthful in looks, as well as small," moans Shirley, who looks no older than on her wedding day, "but I've cut my hair ... I dress appropriately for my age now."