Silver Screen (Nov 1930-Oct 1931)

"I'd like to give you a tip," 1 said. "Keep away from that snake. He's poison to girls like you." She didn't even look up. She continued to trace designs on that red-checked table cloth. Well, shoemakers' children shouldn't throw stones — and newspaper reporters shouldn't bake cakes — so I ambled on. T DIDN'T see Julie Crandall again for nearly two years — but I certainly heard enough about her. She spent the five hundred dollars from her "art work" with Shoeman for clothes; then she got a job in a chorus where she didn't need them. Quickly she became a featured dancer and got rave notices in all the papers. Blase New Yorkers were fascinated by her eager, charming vitality and her high spirits of youth. She was unspoiled, fresh and desirable, and she put her whole soul into everything she did whether she liked it or not. There was nothing half-way about Julie Crandall. Her Charleston was the "meanest" New York has ever seen. Of course, all the scions of the Best Families started sending in their cards accompanied by orchids, ermine wraps, diamond bracelets, and other little trifles, but according to rumour she didn't specialize — she played the whole field. As I read in the New York papers (I had become an invaluable yes-man with Superlative Films in Hollywood) of the gay goings on of Julie Crandall I could hardly believe that she was the same little sick kitten that I had seen in Mike's Hot Spot. The kid was certainly getting the breaks. And then the Big Boss on a visit to New York signed her up for a part in a Superlative picture and Julie Crandall came to Hollywood. Say, did her eyes go over swell in the test they gave her! They made her seem aloof, mysterious and sublimely beautiful — they gave you that stained glass window feeling which you get when you hear Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. But Superlative in its usual manner overlooked those eyes and focussed on Julie's legs. They were exquisite legs, I admit, but I insisted then — and time has proven me a wise guy — that there was more to Julie than a "jazz baby." Superlative began twenty-four sheeting the kid around the world and Julie lived up to her publicity. She plunged into the helter skelter gaiety of Hollywood. Men went mad about her and she was seen in every dazzling spot in town with at least a dozen escorts. There was gossip — plenty of it, too. Julie had been in Hollywood six months before we met. Heaven knows I didn't want to meet her then, but the Big Boss had wished the dirty work off on me. She met me at the door herself and invited me into the sitting room where cocktails were waiting. "Don't look so tragic," she said gaily. "I'm quite a collector of hard knocks. But do get it over with. Is it true that I'm going to be fired?" "No," I thundered. "Who starred that rumour?" "Well, according to my informants, the esteemed president of Superlative Pictures started it himself. It seems that this morning he was thinking out loud, and his dear little secretary happened to overhear him, and she just happened to mention it to my maid, warning her not to tell a soul, of course, and within the hour six of my best friends called up to console me." "Too bad the dear little secretary didn't listen in on the entire conversation," I growled. "The honest-togoodness facts are these: After the release of your next picture you're going to be made a star, for Superlative has decided that it needs a great dramatic actress AND you're elected. BUT if you don't slow down and get off the roller coaster Superlative may change its mind. See? In other words the Big Boss is going to make you exclusive and you've got to quit dancing on everybody's table. You've got to get remote and your dear public mustn't see you doing the Black Bottom with every mug who comes along. They've got to think of you as wandering lonely and aloof by the murmuring sea. It may be hard at first — " "LJARD? Hard?" Julie laughed hysterically. "Why, it's the one thing I've alwavs wanted to do. All my life I've forced myself to be that awful 'life of the party' because it was expected of me. I hate parties, I despise people, I loathe cocktails — I want to be alone — I've always wanted to be alone — [Continued on -page 62] Domestic and Exported Love WOULD you rather have a French or American hero make love to you? Robert Montgomery gazes at Constance Bennett in that worshipping, wistful way in the American version of the "Easiest Way," but Andre Burgere in the French version asks no questions but seizes lovely Lily Damita in his arms. The American humbly pleads for love; the Frenchman takes it boldly 36 Silver Screen