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THE MYTH AND THE PLACE
the Mocambo, the Norma Talmadge Building, the Crosby Building, past Rooney Inc., I go into Schwab's Pharmacy, where the starlets are said to congregate for milk-shakes — and the stars sometimes drop in for a hamburger. Not a star in sight. Not even a starlet. This is Hollywood.
Nine p.m. I go to a Hollywood premiere — of the film Carousel — at Grauman's Chinese Theatre.
The theatre is built in the style of a Chinese temple and the usherettes are dressed-up like mandarins. In the forecourt the footprints of the stars have been captured in concrete, but you would have to be a Sherlock Holmes to get very worked up about anybody's footprints— even Miss Monroe's. It is not a very fashionable premiere. People arrive wearing sports jackets.
Gold dust has been sprinkled along the road leading to the theatre, and caricatures of stars have been painted on the pavements. Searchlights sweep the sky. But I still cannot rid myself of the notion that I am back at the Dominion, Tottenham Court Road.
Eleven p.m. I am dining with brilliant producerdirector Otto Preminger. We are approached by a tall diffident man, who says: "Do you remember me . . . we met on the set. ..."
I conclude it is some bit player looking for work. Preminger says, "Sit down; have a drink", and introduces me to Tom O'Neil. Then he adds to me in a whispered aside, "He's the man who just bought RKO for twenty-five million dollars."
Two a.m. Night-club scene. Randolph Scott, incongruously dressed in dinner suit, is quoting Sir Winston Churchill.
Money note: You pay for the privilege of being in Hollywood. At my hotel, an orange juice cost 5^. 3^.,
J9