Screenland (Nov 1950-Oct 1951)

by looking as he does and being what he is. But that isn't enough for Ray. When he takes on a role, it must be done — despite his outward casualness — in the best possible way, to the height of his ability. He must, in a sense, win over the role, be master of it. He's a perfectionist in many other spheres as well. And in this I find myself once more in communion with him. Ray is not satisfied with second best — in anything. He long ago decided, for instance, that Mai was exactly the perfect woman to be found anywhere — which she is, by the way. And he outdid himself to make her a part of his life for keeps. At times, I might add, he's a slightly unconventional guest — at least as far as his old friends are concerned, anyway. Mai and I will never forget one particular party I gave a short time ago, for instance. I had just had my house remodeled, and the place was done in such a way that what seemed like the second floor was actually where most of the activity went on, the building being on a hill. The living room and dining room were on top, and there was a wing of bedrooms for myself and Deborah. And beneath these I had put in a small guest suite and an office. Ray was working when the party began, so Mai came alone. Time passed. All the guests had appeared but Ray. We asked ourselves if he could possibly be working so late. It didn't seem right. We phoned the studio and discovered that the company had broken for the night hours before. Where, then, was Milland? certain quality of beauty. Here let me introduce you." "Buddy speaks so often of you," she said with an airy, friendly smile. "He's so in love with you," she added. Now, how can you resent a girl like that? Then she said, "I really don't know how I was so lucky as to be chosen as Lygia. I'd been away from home so long in Africa making "King Solomon's Mines" that I never supposed I'd be sent away on another six-months location — so far as Italy. I was home three weeks when the rumblings started — then the tests — and then here." "Tony, my husband," she continued, and her eyes lighted, "is due here in a week. I can scarcely wait. He was with me all during the Africa location. But just getting back into our lovely new home on the Pacific Palisades, overlooking the ocean, plus his making of television films forced Tony to stay on a little longer. He takes care of everything, gets everything going well and I just follow along with what he wants to do." Suddenly she jumped up, like an arrow shot from a bow, and gathering her flow I went out to the parking lot, finally, and asked the boy I had hired for the evening if Mr. Milland had come, by any chance. "Sure, Miss Fontaine," he answered. "He's been in there for hours!" "He has?" I said, astonished. "But where." "I dunno. But he came a long time ago." I told Mai. And together we started a search of the house. We began with the main floor. No Ray. We went out into the garden. No Ray. Finally, we descended to the office and the guest suite. There was Ray in an easy chair, calmly reading a book. He announced, very peacefully, that he had no idea where the front door was after the remodeling, that he had come in through the guest suite door and couldn't find his way up to the festivities, and that sooner or later Mai or I would wonder where he was and send out the St. Bernards. Meanwhile, he added, he had been perfectly happy. It had been a very good book! I think he's part pixie himself, come to consider it. And that's why he's not only fun to know, but wonderful to make a picture with. It would be all right with me, now that the "Blondie" series is dead, if they made Ray and me its successor. I can see it now: "Ray And Joan In The Alps." "Ray And Joan Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea." "Ray And Joan Give A Hotfoot To Stalin." From where I sit, it would be wonderful! ing draperies of Lygia, did a neat sprint across Cinecitta lawns. Mervyn LeRoy, amused at my amazement, explained her abrupt departure. "Deborah's been waiting for a call from Tony in Hollywood." It was prearranged that when the doorman raised his hand, it was the signal that Tony was waiting on the wire half way around the world in California. Production ceased until twenty minutes later when a pink cheeked, breathless Deborah returned, filled with apology. "That was Tony," she beamed. It was six o'clock in the morning in California while it was two in the afternoon here in Rome. She had been so excited she couldn't remember what he said, except he was leaving to join her immediately. And she was conscious what each word was costing — sixty dollars — nine minutes. From then on Deborah was exuberant. She had just talked to the very special man in her life and it was difficult for her to suppress her emotions in showing indignation to Bob Taylor who was attempting to carry her off to some Roman Villa as his special prize of war — in spite of any Buddy Baer who would prevent him. Arlene Dahl and Lex (Tarzan) Barker at "Ice Follies" preem. Will they marry? "I haven't seen all of the famous places in Rome," Deborah disclosed later, although she did enthuse about her audience with the Pope. "I've been waiting for Tony so we can share the discovery of this beautiful Rome together. And Melanie, my daughter, two and a half, is the fatal attraction to keep me home when I'm not here at the studio." But she really should see more of Rome, she agreed. So it was settled that we two would take an afternoon and see some of the famous places together. It was scorching hot when Deborah picked me up in her Italian car with the chauffeur, as it seemed to me, driving on the wrong side. "Mama Mia!" I overheard the Italian doorman exclaim, fairly staring at Deborah. He said she was as ravishing as a golden goddess. The Italians have a special admiration for golden redheads. Everywhere we went that afternoon there were wide-eyed exclamations of approval from admiring Italians. Deborah's dress was cotton, green and lavender. "I bought it here in Rome," she disclosed. "The Italian salesgirl insisted that it was the color for my eyes — and simply handed it to me — refusing any others-" "I'm really not an exciting person," she declared later as we sat on some granite placed there centuries ago by the Romans and gazed on the fabulous Colosseum where Nero fed the Christians to the lions. "Everything seems to go so smoothly. Melanie loves it here. We have a beautiful villa on the outskirts of Rome with a cool garden and terrace with flowers. And a perfect cook, Nanny, who goes with us everywhere and runs a home so efficiently." We stood under the Arch of Constantine on the Appian Way and paused long enough to note that here the Roman soldiers had returned as great conquering armies We had changed from the car to carriage and horse to clippety clop over the brick streets to more clearly experience being Romans. "In Nero's day," Deborah said, "the men wore the fancy clothes. They kept forms in their wardrobes and their valets spent all day finding new ways of draping their bejeweled and colorful togas. 53 In Rome With Deborah Continued from page 31