Silver Screen (May-Oct 1934)

I Little Shirley THINGS that frighten me most in this world are earthquakes, Connie Bennett, Fox studio policemen and five-year-old children. Either they are terribly sophisticated and give you a line of dialogue that might have been written by Ben Hecht and directed by Lubitsch, or else they say, "You're the big bad wolf. Get under the piano and growl." And there is nothing to do about it but get under the piano, where the maid has neglected to sweep for quite some time, and growl. If only one or two nasty growls would suffice, but no, I have to growl all afternoon— and spring too. I believe it is the springing that really gets me, for I am the lethargic type. So, when I was told that if I wanted to eat next month, I had better go over to Paramount and see the "child wonder," Miss Shirley Temple, age five, do her stuff on the "Now and Forever" set, I was a bit dismayed. I had just returned from a week-end at Malibu, which seemed to have had more than its usual supply of kiddies this time, and I had been the victim of a couple of new horrors. I don't know why the little tots always pick on me. First, there was the plump little four-year-old daughter, with the prettiest baby blue eyes and cherubic smile, of one of the screen's virile heroes, who greeted me with, "I know a poem. I know a poem." So of course there was nothing for me to do but sit down and listen. "Save your nickels and save your dimes," little angel recited, "And when you get two bucks come up and see me sometimes." Well, now, after all— but you just can't spank the little dears when their mothers are around. There's sort of an unwritten law about that. And then there was the precocious youngster of one of the screen's famous blondes, who insisted upon throwing sand in my face while she informed me, "Well, daddy and his new wife have split up. And after only three weeks. That didn't take long, did it?" So, no wonder it was with fear and trepidation that I approached stage 5 on the Paramount lot. I may be old-fashioned but I still think that children should be natural and artists should struggle in garrets. They were doing a party scene when I arrived, and there were children and mothers and visitors from Texas all over the place. In the picture a Charlotte Granville, famous New York actress, was giving a farewell party to little Shirley at her beautiful villa on the Riviera. Shirley's papa was there, handsome big Gary Cooper, and papa's girl friend, Carole Lombard, lovelier than ever in a new coiffure. And there was the emerald necklace which Gary was going to steal and conceal in Shirley's teddy bear— and which, later, Shirley would find herself and learn that her adored father was a crook. A new set-up was called for and a boom had to be rolled in, so Shirley — She's as natural as a kitten. /I I i n ..y there was ample time for me to talk to Shirley, Mrs. Temple, Carole, Gary, Director Henry Hathaway and various and sundry people who are connected with the picture — and one and all they were all for oneShirley. She's as natural as a kitten and as sweet as an ingenue's smile. Shirley has not time for smart wisecracks (thank goodness) or Hollywood Sex Problems—she's far too busy thinking up new games to Mrs. George F. Temple, mother of the movie prodigy and, besides, two boys, one eighteen and one fourteen. 26 Silver Screen