Silver Screen (Apr-Sep 1936)

Silver Screen for July 1936 57 Interviewing Stars [Continued from page 23] day that the tabloids were carrying such banner lines as "Nancy Carroll divorces Jack Kirkland." I was a bit miffed. But it was such fun telling Nancy what I thought of her when I bumped into her several days later, and Nancy is a smart girl who knows her Press and shoved me into Tony's right away (that was before I made Hollywood) and I was never one to bear a grudge long atTony's. Her apology was so quaint. "You are too good to write for the fan magazines," said Nancy. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself." I accepted her apology Well, you'd think that would have taught me a lesson. But no, I got caught in the Joan Crawford-Douglas Fairbanks Jr., crisis, and didn't get much of a laugh out of that. For a while there I had quite a run of bad luck. All I had to say in a story was that lambie-pie is happily married, or that cutie-pie isn't married, and mercy, before the magazine could get out lambie-pie would get a divorce and cutiepie would get married. I just couldn't pick 'em. And I was getting pretty sour about the whole thing and sort of longed for the quiet and peace amid the pots and pans in Macy's basement. But when I failed to get "caught" in the Blondell-Barnes divorce, and the SidneyCerf divorce, I got so pepped up and cheeky that now I think my luck has changed. Though never again do I write a I-am-happily-married story, even about my best friends. Burny, Burny. I may say, in fact I will say, this is my story and I'll say what I please (that's what you think), I will say that with the exception of being caught out on these divorces my experiences in interviewing the Dream Girls have been most pleasant. Of course there was the star who threatened to sue me because I made disparaging remarks about her birthplace (that was Grace Moore), and there was the star who started me out on a grand case of flu due to the frigidity of her house and reception (that was Kay Francis)— but for the most part movie stars have been kind to me. Better still they have given me my fun. On account I am a shy person, and was brought up not to ask questions, I have reduced interviewing to its lowest common denominator. I never get a good interview, but I usually have a good time. Being a little on the cracked side myself my two favorite people to interview are Patsy Kelly and W. C. Fields. He always says, "Ah, my little chickadee, will it be a martini or an old fashion," and then will proceed to go through his entire bag of tricks, even to a little juggling on the side, while you roll on the floor in hysterics. What a grand way to have an interview. Miss Kelly of the Third Avenue Kellys will greet you with, "Huh, I suppose I'll have to feed you to get a good story— c'mon," and will take you to a restaurant, not too chic, and gouge all kinds of goodies down you, complaining with every bite you take of the high cost of publicity. And that's not all— when Patsy Kelly gives an interview, she gives a day. After lunch you will be driven down to the Venice Amusemei t Pier to play Keno for hours, until you ve lost all your money. Or if the racing season is on she will rush you out to Santa Anita and give you five hot tips that can't miss, on account she got them straight from a gangster friend. Take my advice and never bet on Miss Kelly's hot tips. The last interview I had with Patsy at the track cost me exactly fifty bucks (Patsy is still dodging me)-but I must say that I bad rather spend an afternoon with Patsy and lose fifty bucks than spend ten minutes Summer fashions. Mary Burris in a dinner dress consisting of a mousseline redingote over a taffeta slip, Billie Sullivan, in a pink taffeta; Peggy Parker, white crepe skirt with taffeta blouse; Mildred Hatton in a chiffon dress; Barbara Farlander wearing a black and white print with jabot. with a certain Frozen Face and get paid for it. I'm crazy like that. But with the exception of Kelly and Fields and the late Thelma Todd I have had very little luck with comedians. I spent a most embarrassing half hour with the Marx Brothers one day, during which time no one said anything for posterity, Alexander Woollcott, or Silver Screen. Maybe they just weren't mad that day. Edna May Oliver threw me for a complete loss. ZaZu Pitts I adore personally, but she begs me never to write anything about her. (I don't know whether it's because of an extreme inferiority complex on her part, or because she's read my works.) For a good straight, business-like interview, pleasant but not too gay, I heartily recommend Norma Shearer. Norma is a very intelligent young woman, knows the value of sane publicity, and makes it her business to see that every writer gets a good story. If possible, and it usually is, she finds out from the studio what the writer wishes to interview her about, and as quickly as she can she launches the embarrassed writer right into the proper channel, and all the writer has to do is sit there and listen or take notes. Norma takes the trouble (very few other stars do this) to find out a little something about the interviewer before she arrives, and greets her effusively by her own name with a bit of personal business thrown in, and naturally the writer is most flattered and pleased. My experiences with Norma Shearer have been most pleasant. "Make me a little mad," was the only request she ever made of me. She hasn't a long list of taboos like so many of the stars. And such co-operat ion. There was the time, about a year ago, when due to a slip-up by her press agent she found six eager writers all waiting to interview her at practically the same time. I had about ten minutes and upon departing sweetly informed her that 1 didn't have much of a story. The next day, to rm complete surprise, came lour pages of copy from la Shearer herself— all about herself, and things I would never dared to have written. I have never had a movie star do that before or since. Bette Davis, they tell me, is the frankest, most volcanic of the stars. Bette does what is vulgarly called "shoots off her mouth," and consequently is always in hot water with her studio publicity department. The writers love her. She is good copv. My rna Loy is considered bad copy. She just won't talk. Pleasant and nice and polite and all that— but she doesn't "give." There's always an icy barrier between Myrna and the interviewer, and Myrna just sits and smiles on her side of the icebeig and leaves you to struggle along as best you can on your side. But I caught Myrna off side once, and have had no trouble with her since. It was while she was making "Broadway Bill" with Warner Baxter, and the company had to go on location some awful place out in the Valley where the thermometer registered a mere 110. When I arrived Myrna was sprawled out in a chair with as little on as possible and the perspiration was racing down her face and legs. She looked anything but glamorous but was too hot to care. I took the other chair next to the canvas wall of her improvised dressing room, and in less than five minutes her red dress hanging bar!, of me had faded from the heat waves. Well, an icebeig hasn't much chance in a situation like that. The thaw set in with a bang and by the time the thermometei had reached 115 in the shade. Myrna and I were mopping away like mad. killing (lies frantically, ami the' best of pals) walsles. A Myrna Loy interview never finds me .it the dentist. About the screwiest interv iew I ever had. I suppose, was with |oan Blondell. I hadn't been in Hollywood long and had been told by Joan's studio and several writers thai Joan was a peculiar sou of person. "She doesn't like people." . . . "She takes one look and decides immediate!) she doesn'l