Screenland Plus TV-Land (Nov 1952 - Oct 1953)

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If you built a real friendship on all levels, then there's a chance you can keep it with you forever. "I suppose I'm still looking for that kind of love, though perhaps I won't admit it even to myself." And then, with a broad smile, Lana added, "After all, I'm a human being too, aren't I? "If there still happens to be a great love in store for me sometime, somewhere in my life, fine. I won't turn away from it. Being a fatalist, I couldn't. But if not, I've got plenty to live for. I've got my wonderful little girl, Cheryl, whom I hope will always be proud of her mommy. I've got my career and I've got my health. And I'll just go on trying to be happy, trying to make other people happy, too. I'll face each day as it comes and get as much out of life as I can. And come what may, I'll be comforted by the thought that . . . and this too shall pass." But Lana's need for love will not pass, and she knows it. As long as she lives, it will remain to bless or plague her. END WILL MARILYN ESCAPE THE SEX HEX? [CONTINUED FROM PACE 29] fame — the fantastic publicity — the wolf whistles — -the catty whispers. Marilyn's predecessors, few but fabulous, were unquestionably the most flamboyantly fascinating women in all Hollywood history. They were also the unluckiest. Fame and misfortune proved their common lot. Disenchantment, disaster— even death — overtook them one by one. Following so faithfully in their footsteps, will Marilyn find herself traveling the same perilous path? Is she inescapably jinxed by the "Sex Hex" that relentlessly stalked her ill-fated forerunners? Jean Harlow, for example. Jean is the one most frequently compared with Marilyn. They say the public's terrific, spontaneous reaction to Monroe's sexy magnetism can only be compared with the overnight impact made by Harlow in "Hell's Angels." Success brought nothing but sorrow to the beloved Platinum Blonde. Scandal stormed into her life with the suicide of Paul Bern, to whom she was married. The headlines and heartaches shattered Jean, and nothing ever quite erased the awful hurt. Not even her eventual love affair with Bill Powell, which briefly promised some hope of happiness ahead. The promise was never to be fulfilled. On June 7, 1937, Jean Harlow — young, beautiful and very much in love — breathed her last, a victim of uremic poisoning. Sudden fame at 19 — shocking death at 26; a short life and an unhappy one was the dubious bounty stardom brought Jean. The Platinum Blonde was not the first Hollywood "find" to become a box-office bonanza at 19. Clara Bow was the same age when she skyrocketed to the hectic heights during the Roaring Twenties. Clara had "It," and "It" made her the glittering goddess of a gaudy, giddy "Era Of Wonderful Nonsense." It was a frivolous period which boasted several bits of Americana unique to those times — Bootleggers— Bathtub Gin — and the Brooklyn Bonfire. The dizzying speed which shot her from Flatbush poverty to filmland prominence deposited a thoroughly bewildered and therefore vulnerable young redhead smack in the center of the limelight's merciless glare. Clara and chaos were a sister team from the start. She lost her heart as often — and as unthinkably — as most women lose their gloves. She had a series of unsavory lawsuits levelled at her. Her popularity survived these scandalous suits, including at least one for alienation of affections. Gradually her throne tottered and — after a few lukewarm comeback tries — her career collapsed. Then Clara surprised everybody by marrying cowboy actor Rex Bell, retiring to a ranch with him and eventually bearing him two sons. For a while the Brooklyn Bonfire who had ignited the era of Flaming Youth seemed to have escaped superstition's icy, ominous clutch. Today the happy ending is threatened by new tragedy. Clara Bow, so vibrant and vivacious, lies spent and weary — a scarcely recognizable remnant of her former self — in a hilltop sanitarium not far from Hollywood. And then there was Lupe Velez; everybody considered Lupe the most explosive ex'.rovert ever to hit Hollywood. There was nothing melodramatic about that girl. She was made for love, and for laughter. Lupe was unconventional, uninhibited — as uncomplicated as a child — or so it seemed. Lupe knew everybody, but evidently nobody ever really knew Lupe. She was the last person in the world you would expect to take her own life. Long before Hollywood ever heard of Marilyn Monroe — and possibly vice versa — the jinx legend suffered a serious setback and almost got pooh-poohed out of existence. People would point to Carole Lombard as proof positive of the superstition's inefficacy. Carole certainly seemed to have hog-tied the hex. Few stars, before or since, have been as professionally and personally popular. Further, she was the love of Clark Gable's life — and no girl could do better than that, even in her dreams. Loving, and being loved, is no guarantee of connubial compatibility, but for Carole and Clark romance had ripened into a marriage rich in real and enduring happiness. Surely, Carole Lombard appeared to be the luckiest woman in the whole world. Years have passed since that plane plummeted to earth, but even now it is impossible to think of Carole's untimely end without wondering why it should have happened to her, of all people. Nobody ever disd who had more 62