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Dont Cry Over Spilt Milk
Secrets Of Popularity That Jeanette MacDonald Learned From Her Own Experiences.
By Arthur L. Wolf
(Sketches by Julie Dean)
Why does this girl lose her popularity?
TN TRIM navy blue slacks fitting smoothly over slender hips, a blue flannel blouse open at the throat, her golden red hair that hung to her shoulders catching glints from the firelight, Jeanette MacDonald resembled nothing so much as a Gainsborough or Henry Clive beauty masquerading as a boy.
I have seen Jeanette MacDonald in glittering gowns and luxurious furs at important premieres, looking every inch the glamorous movie queen. I have seen her in street attire, in the latest modes from Parisian ateliers.
But this was my first glimpse of her in slacks. This was an informal Jeanette, relaxing on a free afternoon after strenuous weeks of working in "Maytime." Making no effort to be the glamorous star nor a carefully turned out lady of fashion— yet appearing as natural as if she were garbed and made up fc: a sophisticated screen role!
After I got over staring, like some foreigner on his first visit to American shores, we talked of many things. Not like star and interviewer. But like old friends. It is so easy to talk with Jeanette MacDonald. She speaks pleasantly, frankly, intelligently, and what is more, is a good listener.
So we talked of many things. Of moving
Why do men hover around when a charming girl isn't even trying?
The girl who can laugh when she is laughed at will be
someone's pal. .
pictures we had
both seen. Of books, new and old, and found many mutual friends among them. Of places where the food was good. Of football, of lectures and recitals, and stage shows coming to Hollywood . . . We even talked of philosophy!
And then she told me:
"My mother taught me a bit of philosophy when I was a child. Expressed simply, it was 'never cry over spilt milk.' It came to my rescue then, and has done so innumerable times. After all, when an unpleasant experience comes your way, there's little sense in dwelling upon it. You might be so busy making yourself unhappy over yesterday's disappointment that something fine in today's schedule goes unnoticed. There are a dozen ways of expressing the philosophy of my spilt milk axiom. There's 'Close the door on yesterday.' There's 'Live for today, for yesterday is gone and tomorrow may never come.' There's 'Look forward, not backward.' Oh, and many
more. All of them reminding us that today, not yesterda\ nor tomorrow, is what counts.''
Jeanette curled herself into a more comfortable position. Obviously, she was warming to her subject.
"I believe most things that happen to us, happen for the best," she went on. "Sometimes I've had to cling tenaciously to that philosophy, but in the end it has proven true.
"But to go back to my first disappointment—how insignificant it really was, but how important it seemed at the time! I once had the most violent crush on a boy— and he didn't even know I existed!"
Her words, startlingly clear, enunciated in her simple, unaffected manner, fell, I must confess, on unbelieving ears. Her next words revealed that she must have read frank disbelief in my expression.
"Oh, but I'm serious," she added.
With a smile that broke into a crescendo of musical laughter. Hollywood's most gorgeous red-head confided to me about
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