Screenland (Feb-Oct 1949)

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SU 6411 Hollywood Blvd. Hollywood 28, Calif. * trade mark needed to be redecorated. The drapes were faded, the lounge had been burned, repaired, and pocked again by the cigarettes of preoccupied guests. The walls and ceiling needed to be painted. The rug needed to be cleaned. "We're between pictures," Susan mused one morning. "I think we could do the work ourselves." "Of course we could. Better, probably, than professionals," responded Mr. Barker. They made lists, studied color charts, compared prices, bought upholstery material and paint. They started with the bath house, just to perfect their painting ability. They painted the bath house a delightful pale blue. One evening Susan stitched up a lounge cushion. The next day, both Susan and Jess were called for studio conferences leading to further picture commitments. The delicate job of redecorating the den had to be entrusted to a professional decorator and his aides. Turned out beautifully. With the approach of Spring, the Barkers had a bad attack of seed-catalogueitis. Over dinner one night they agreed solemnly that their spacious backyard should earn its own way in the world. They agreed on a system of planting: so many rows of lettuce, so many radishes, so many carrots, beets, onions and corn. A flat of tomatoes was set out as a final gesture of gardening virtuosity. The garden, in its first flush of green excitement, was a joy to behold. Everything came up in neat rows and sparkled in the sunshine. Birds for miles around, not to mention mites, slugs, cutworms, and gophers, gathered to admire . . . and to drool. The Barkers realized one table item from their entire planting, and that one product was no blue ribbon beauty. Jess became exasperated one day to note that his carrots boasted the most gorgeous foliage in Southern California. A child of three could have been lost in it for five days. But the carrots were reluctant roots. They wouldn't grow. Just before dinner one night, Jess went methodically down the rows until he found the finest specimen in the plot: it was about two inches long, an inch thick, and colored like an anemic lemon. It made a small portion of a large vegetable salad (ingredients bought at the market) , and undoubtedly represented the most expensive single meal ever served in Hollywood. "The trouble with being a gentlemanfarmer," mused Jess, "is that if you kill everything trying to steal your crop, you are no gentleman, and if you don't kill them, you are no farmer. You invest your time and your calluses, and all you have to show for it is experience and lasting enmity for the animal kingdom. What I need is a hobby with permanent, visible results. Think I'll take up photography." "Wonderful," jubilated Susan, spontaneously interested. "I'm glad you thought of it. I think — since everyone else has taken up painting — that I'll try my hand again." As a student in high school in Brook lyn, Susan had studied art in with a halfhearted intention of becoming a commercial artist. Equipped with the information gained in this course, she descended upon the nearest art goods store in Hollywood and outfitted herself in a manner to stagger Picasso. She bought pastels and charcoal, oils and fixative. Scorning such beginner's efforts as landscapes, seascapes, or studio still life, she started a portrait. Jess, coming to her improvised studio at night ("We must outfit a real studio for you, Susan, one with a north light and a place to treat your canvas") was impressed to the point of near-speechlessness. "My gosh, you're good!" he said. And, after a moment, "Is there something slightly wrong with the nose?" "Yes. I know how to fix that. I'm going to do that tomorrow, but I want to put a few more touches on the hair before I quit this evening." The next morning the studio called before Susan had been able to slip into her paint-daubed smock. They wanted to test her for a new part. From that moment to this, she has neither finished the original portrait, nor been able to find time to fix up a studio. "That's a shame, too," said Jess. "I had planned to use about half of your studio as a darkroom." His hobby had gone on briskly. Susan had given him a 16 millimeter moving picture camera for his birthday, and his home shots, in color, had turned out to be the most beautiful pictorial record of Susan ever taken. A friend of theirs, having viewed the films one night, told Jess, "Susan has never been photographed by a professional as well as you have done. The regulation camera has never recorded that magnificent head of flaming hair combined with the shell-pink fragility of her skin. Boy, you really have the shutter touch." It was at this time, approximately, that Susan signed to do an interesting part in "House Of Strangers" opposite Richard Conte and Edward G. Robinson. The girl Susan portrays in the film is a spoiled, self-willed honey who falls for small-time lawyer Conte, when she employs Conte to defend her most recent felonious boy friend. When that commitment was finished, Susan could take her choice of a number of exciting offers. One would have been in France. Such an emergency could inspire only one activity on the part of the dynamic Miss Hay ward: she decided to learn French. Agog, she rushed down to a bookstore, then to a record shop. She purchased an enormous FrenchEnglish dictionary, a French Grammar, a volume entitled, "Conversational French," and a box of recordings guaranteed to make one as native to Paris as Boyer in ten easy lessons. She was still in the Avez vous beaucoup des arbes devant votre maison stage when she was notified that the French location had been called off — no financing. Reluctantly, she stored the box of recordings and her books of instruction in one corner of the room in which her easel stood in silent rebuke. "I'll get back 66 SCREENLAND