Silver Screen (Feb-Oct 1935)

62 Silver Screen for August 1935 No takers MEN say of her, "Good looking. Good company. Nice Girl. But please excuse me." Why? There is just one reason. She's careless about herself! She has never learned that soap and water cannot protect her from that ugly odor of underarm perspiration which makes people avoid her. She has nobody to blame but herself. For it's so easy, these days, to keep the underarms fresh, free from odor all day long. With Mum! It takes just half a minute to use Mum. And you can use it any time — before dressing or afterwards. Mum is harmless to clothing, you know. It's soothing to the skin, too. You can use it right after shaving the underarms. The daily Mum habit will prevent every trace of underarm odor without preventing perspiration itself. Get into the habit — it pays socially. Bristol-Myers, Inc., 75 West St., New York. MUMd TAKES THE ODOR OUT OF PERSPIRATION O ON SANITARY NAPKINS. Make sure that you can never offend in this way. Use Mum! wish to call your attention to the fact that this is the United States of America— not Princeton." "My wife," stormed Dickie dramatically, "carrying a bouquet of flowers, entered this house. If you think you can make a fool of me you're mistaken. I live in a respectable community, I've got a position to maintain, and if anybody gets a divorce, I get it." Compromised But a search was not necessary for, at this moment, Linda walked nonchalantly into the room wearing an old towel robe of Steven's and a pair of his slippers. "Steven," she said to the staring group, "where are the cigarettes? Oh, hello, Dickie. And Butch!" "I'm not Butch," pouted the offended youth. "I'm sorry. I always get you boys mixed." Linda smiled with amiable sweetness. "You're Chuck, aren't you? And he's Butch." "We'll see who's going to get the divorce." Linda yawned and offered the tip of her cigarette to Steven to light. Dickie turned on them belligerently. "And you thought you were smart. Deliberately giving me knew what it was all about, shouted, "You're on the air." All right, what could you think up to say to the great big critical radio audience? Well, after that Joan decided to take the next plane back to Hollywood and to hell with a week-end in San Francisco. Her nerves and her stomach were completely upset when she got home to her husband, Gene Markey, so she wept on his shoulder for awhile and then announced, "Gene, I must have a rest, I'm going to fly to New York tomorrow." And the pay-off on the whole story is that she had barely been grounded in Alburquerque before the Los Angeles newspapers cracked through with divorce rumors, so Joan hardly got to New York before she had to fly back to her Gene. One of the funniest "rests" I ever heard of was that taken not so long ago by Bill Powell and Dick Barthelmess. They both decided they needed rest in a big way. A friend had told them of a sand bar seven miles off the coast of. Long Island, so the two pals had an old boatman row them over and promise not to come back for them for forty-eight hours. They put up their pup tent, fried their hamburgers, and prepared for a healthful night in the open. "Isn't it beautiful," said Bill, and they looked at the stars, and felt awfully sorry for all those poor people back in the city who were ruining their health in night clubs. Then came the mosquitoes, terrible mosquitoes, and poor Bill and Dick had to put their underclothing over their faces and pull their sox over their hands, but still the mosquitoes drilled. Along about midnight a cold wind blew down from the Arctic, and the pup tent simply collapsed. Hours later they were awakened from a fitful sleep by the lapping of waves, and to their horror found the Atlantic Ocean at their feet. (They learned later that that night was the highest tide that had been heard of in those parts in seventy-two years.) The next day the sun came out in all its fury, and along with it fifty-seven varieties of insects. Then, with the sunset, came severe cold again, and as all their groceries had been washed away in the tide love lessons. Well, your lesson wasn't so hot. She was glad to get a husband, she just fell into my arms and I didn't have to say a word except 'I love you!' " Accent on Age Steven pondered this last shot as the trio made their departure. He turned to Linda. "Is that all he said— just 'I love you?' " Linda nodded. "I ought to slap you around the block for falling for a brilliant speech like that but I think I've got the best doggone idea for a comedy that anybody has had since Time began. Get your pencil! Ready?" "Ready!" she replied in a voice of hushed excitement. "Act one— scene one! A penthouse apartment in New York City . . . change that to a castle in Spain." Steven looked at Linda experiencing a surge of emotion, a happiness unbelievable in its madness, and bent his head so that his cheek touched hers and he was looking at the pad over her shoulder. Linda lifted her eyes to his and smiled. "Maybe it's not good playwriting but— I love you, I love you, I love you!" And so age answered youth. they had nothing to eat. When the boatman finally came for them they were almost a couple of raving lunatics, starved, bitten, and so blistered that they couldn't sit down for days. Bill says that the only thing that didn't wash away in the tide was the radio, and all through the miserable nights they could hear the Paul Whiteman orchestra at the Biltmore Hotel, and Bill and Dick swore then that in the future they would do their resting in a cocktail lounge. And nuts to health. You haven't heard anything until you've heard Irene Dunne tell of her recent visit to New York. Her intentions were to meet her doctor husband there and spend six weeks in a hideaway in the Adirondacks. But somehow or other she didn't get nearer a hideaway than the Waldorf Astoria. By actual count this is what Irene did while resting in New York: three benefits, seven radio appearances, four recordings of the songs in "Roberta," six formal dinners, numerous teas, parties and such, one lecture at a Woman's Club, one christening, one wedding, one course in operatic singing, twenty-two interviews, and the usual shopping and plays. Of course the "rest" really started down in Cuba where she arrived just in time for a Revolution, and after dodging bullets dashed back to the boat in such a hurry that she lost most of her luggage. In Hollywood Irene keeps awfully busy and is rarely seen in the night spots, but in New York it seems she is all over the place, and even consented to sing at the swanky Casino one evening. When Janet Gaynor goes on a vacation she works three times as hard as she does at the studio. When she "rests" at her cabin up in Wisconsin she is up at the crack of dawn, rowing or fishing or hauling logs, and she even cooks and does the laundry, things she'd never think of doing at home. But Janet claims that she has never been as physically exhausted by a vacation as she was by her last trip to New York. For the first time in her life she worked hard at sight-seeing: the Metropolitan Museum, the Aquarium, the Statue of Liberty, and everything. Then at night she would have dates, mostly with Gene Raymond. One The "Resting" of the Hollywood Stars [Contimied from page 25]