Screenland (Nov 1950-Oct 1951)

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Elizabeth Tells About Her Honeymoon Continued from page 23 on his day off, going to the post office to visit." Liz laughed. "Well, I wanted to see 'Quo Vadis.' I was up for the role, until I got married. I was so enthused with the script." Liz, definitely, will continue with her career. "From Venice we're going to Switzerland and then back to Paris for one last look. We spent six weeks at Cannes. I was on the beach every day — getting a real tan. We loved England. I was there not so long ago with Mother, making 'Conspirator,' so it was actually renewing acquaintances and introducing Nicky to my godmother, who thinks he is wonderful, too. We went to the races." Did she bet? "Well, not much," Liz said. "I'm not the gambling type." Then came Paris. They stayed at the George Cinq Hotel, and then attended a wonderful dinner party given by the Duke and Duchess of Windsor. "We hope we grow old together gracefully and wonderfully like the Duke and Duchess. They were such lovely people," Liz remarked. "Yes, the dinner was wonderful and it was a very formal party, a good chance to wear one of my trousseau numbers. We went to a lot of parties in England and France. At Monte Carlo, it was exciting visiting the casinos." Did she place any bets? "Well, yes," Liz admitted. "But never more than two dollars an evening." She won and lost so it was a no-win no-lose deal and she came out even. Missy and Dick Bigelow, a delightful young American couple whom they'd met in New York, accompanied them to Rome. It was fun going foursome on the third month of their honeymoon. They didn't do much letter writing, but Liz and Nicky had called home five times. "We get on the telephone and talk to everyone at home. Nicky's father in New York, and my father, mother and brother and the cook in Beverly Hills, and of course my dog, Butch. His woof indicates that he knows my voice. I am taking a new white French poodle home from Paris. He was given to me by friends, and I'm leaving Butch home with mother. I don't want to uproot Butch, also a French poodle, from his home after all of these years." What had Liz bought in Europe? "Well, not much," Liz confessed. "I had my trousseau, all new, and I don't really need anything. In Paris Nick, (she calls him Nick, he calls her Liz) said he expected I would want clothes. 'All women buy clothes in Paris,' I replied. 'But I have all of my perfectly wonderful new trousseau,' I reminded. But being in Paris and not buying at least one dress was rather unthinkable so Nick said, 'Let's get you one at least, Liz. People will think I'm not a generous husband if you go back to America without anything new from Paris.' We saw dresses, dresses, and I chose a dream one of pink and gray chiffon for evening. Nick still 52 seemed amazed that I didn't want a halfdozen. 'What sort of a woman are you?' he teased. 'My, how conservative you are, Mrs. Hilton!' But I feel that just because I now have a husband to buy my gowns is not enough reason to buy things I don't need. I've always loved beautiful clothes, but I don't believe in buying more than one can wear in one year." Liz demonstrates a side of considerate wifely thrift in the expenditure of her husband's income, which points to a happy, successful security for the young Hiltons. In spite of being raised in the great wealth of his father, head of the fabulous Hilton Hotel chain in America, Nicky has been taught sound business principles regarding finance, which means that a dollar saved is a dollar earned. The following afternoon I met them both at the Airport Dell Urbe. A big limousine drove up. And presto, there was Liz alighting with a welcoming smile, and Nicky alighting with a quick "Hi" as he raced to the ticket window to purchase their tickets, to have their baggage weighed, to pay the excess which was little, since they were traveling light, after which he gave substantial, but modest tips. "If we don't hurry and get aboard, we won't get a seat," Nicky said. I thought of two last minute questions. "The American columns said you're expecting the stork," I remarked. "I wish that were true," Liz smiled. "Maybe someday, we me. He's taught me gestures to use, for instance, broad, undisciplined gestures without much control in them, and a way of walking, and other things. And he didn't offer these while looking down his nose as The Big Academy Award Winner, I might add. Instead, he merely said, "Joanie, you know, there's a little gag that you might like to do here. . ." It was so charming and helpful that I grabbed the suggestion. He is charming, of course. In fact, when your job calls on you to pretend to be in love with someone — as mine does — it isn't nearly as difficult to imagine being in love with Ray as it is with some of the others. For he's not only attractive to look at, but he's — well, nice is the word, I suppose. I'm not trying to give myself posies, but actually we are very much alike. We might be brother and sister. For we enjoy the same things, live the same way, do our job along the same lines. Both of us are sensitive to manners and the use of language. And Ray is particularly so. He can take a look at me in the morning and tell whether or Anthony Curtis and Janet Leigh at the opening of "Ice Follies." She's in "Jet Pilot." hope," Nicky added. "One last question, where did you go your last night in Rome?" I asked. "Why, to Cinecitta," Liz laughed. "Yes, I know it seems strange spending both of our evenings at the studio, but you can't imagine how interesting it was. As a matter of fact, I became an extra, put on a Christian martyr's costume, and went into the Arena to be fed to the lions," Elizabeth declared. "So I'm in 'Quo Vadis' after all, if you look close enough." They were to return to America on the Queen Elizabeth to get set up in their new apartment at the Bel Air Hotel. "I want to have people to dinner and use some of our new wedding gifts," Liz smiled. Their plane took off, became a tiny speck in the sky, heading towards Venice. And Liz and Nicky's honeymoon in Rome was over. not I am unhappy about something. And, when he finds that all is not coposetic, he will say, quietly, "O.K. What's bothering you? Want to talk about it?" I'll blow up for a minute, perhaps. And Ray will laugh. Kindly. Sympathetically. "Calm down, Joanie," he'll go on. "Let's find out how serious this really is." Naturally, within five minutes I have not only told him what is bothering me — knowing that it will go no farther, of course — but I am laughing about it. Sometimes I have to calm him down, too. Particularly is this true after a session of gin with him. For I, she said modestly, invariably win. And it kills him! It isn't the stakes we play for which upsets him. We could be playing for pennies or thousands, and he would still hate to lose. It's the competition of the thing. He likes to win, must win, and he tries his darndest to do it. And this, I think, carries over into his acting. He could get by, simply Helping Hand From Ray Continued from page 25