Silver Screen (Nov 1938-Apr 1939)

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Greaseless, stainless, dries fast. Stops the most intense itching in a hurry. A 35c trial bottle, at drug stores, proves it — or money back. SONG POEMS WANTED AT ONCE! Mother, Home. Love, Patriotic, Sacred, Comic or any subject. Don't delay — send us your original poem today for immediate consideration. RICHARD BROS., 28 Woods Building, Chicago, III. MORE ABSORBENT Trouble from Broadway [Conl i n uctl from page 55] 1 me alive . . . then, when you think you've got it, having i lie director yell "cut" and politely pick your work to pieces . . . encouraging )ou and telling you you're lousy at the same time . . . In fact, she didn't suspect a thing until Barney Eldridge inadvertantly sprang the cat from the bag. Barney disliked Roger with a degree of feeling bordering on ecstasy, but he was not the back-stabbing ivpc— which helped distinguish him from most of the rest of Hollywood. Besides, his devotion to Eloise was something real, and he would have protected Roger to spare her any pain. In other words, it was just one of those unfortunate slips. He was griping— more to himself than to Eloise— as he drove her home from the studio one evening. "That friend of Roger's probably isn't Lhe worst actress in the world, but she's a cinch to be somewhere in the money." "Which friend of Roger's?" asked Eloise conversationally. "That Gloria LaVerne number. The one from New York." Eloise sat up. "From New York!" That started it. At first Eloise went home and had a good cry. Then she got mad. And when Eloise Sargent got mad, there was bound to be a detonation heard for miles around. This time she smashed a couple of forty dollar bottles of L'Heure Bleu, grabbed the phone, and started to bellow. When Eloise got mad, her voice flew down the scale and took on a sturdy, two-fisted timbre. The result was an unmistakable bellow. "Barney? I'm going to give a party, and everybody's going to be there . . . including Gloria LaVerne. I want you to see that she's present!" At the other end of the wire Barney winced. He knew that tone and all that it heralded. "Now, take it easy, Eloise. There's no sense in . . ." "It will be a jolly party! A riot of fun for old and young!" "What'll it get you? Now, listen . . ." "Shut up and do what I tell you, you insubordinate pup!" Barney heard the receiver slam down at the other end of the line. He shook his head and sighed. It was a real party ... in the very best Hollywood tradition. Not like most of Eloise's parties, to which only a small, literate, and well-behaved group were invited. Her hillside home was jammed to the curtain rods. A slam-bang, polo-shirtand-sport-coat free-for-all it was, with the flow of liquor paralleled only by the steady stream of loose talk. The cigarette damage alone ran close to a thousand dollars. Barney arrived with Gloria, holding her by the arm gingerly ... as he might hold a highball that had gone flat. Gloria was radiant, marching up the walk swinging her hips with cheerful abandon. Eloise was at the door to meet them, Barney handling the introduction in a manner that would have done credit to a stunned longshoreman. To his bewilderment, Eloise was as sweet as a hive-full of honey. But behind that honeyed smile and sugary greeting, Barney detected an ominous note— like the buzzing of many bees. Still, Gloria held the upper hand . . . and she knew it. She had a self-assured air, but her eyes were watchful and cagey. They took in everything in quick, appraising glances. "So nice of vou to come," said Eloise, sizing her up in that inch-by-inch feminine way. Gloria's eyes were still roving. "Thanks." Even Barney knew that wasn't the right thing to say. "I've heard so much about you . . . your contract and all." "Have you? That was supposed to be sort of a secret." "Secrets will leak out, you know." Gloria gave her a funny look. "And there's not much anyone can do about it, is there?" She turned to Barney. "Fetch me a drink, lambie. Let's get in the party mood!" Barney spun around, clawed his way to the nearest waiter, and gulped a martini and two side-cars. All the oxygen in the house had been exhausted, and the party had reached the flushed-faced, contentious stage when Roger entered the front door. Nodding and smiling, he worked his way over to the corner where he spied Eloise. He greeted her brightly. "Hello, darling. Wonderful party. And so practical of you ... no waste space." Eloise laughed gaily. She was more than a little high. "It's rather clubby, isn't it?" "Clubby 's the word. The very air is like a blackjack. Confidentially, aren't you the girl who doesn't like Hollywood parties?" "This is different," exclaimed Eloise. "This is a reunion. Old friends and that sort of thing. By the way, I want you to meet someone. This little girl has just been given a contract, and everyone tells me she has a multitude of talents. Miss LaVerne . . . Mr. Lawrence." Roger looked up at the girl who had just approached. He paled and fought with his tie. "How do you do," he wheezed. "Hot in here." "We've met," smiled Gloria. "Really?" said Eloise in her best hostess fashion. "I'm afraid I don't . . ." began Roger lamely. "In New York, Mr. Lawrence," said Gloria. "Don't you remember?" "Yes, Roger, don't you remember?" Roger was suddenly aware that Eloise's voice had descended a full octave and was rapidly picking up volume. People stopped talking and looked around. "Surely you remember New York, Roger, where you had such fun two-timing me with Miss LaVerne? It isn't possible that you could have forgotten so soon, is it, my darling, deceitful, two-faced rat of a Roger?" Where thirty seconds before there had been a pounding din, there was now a taut, breathless silence. Someone dropped a glass, and it sounded like doom cracking up. Roger tried to laugh, "Wait just a minute, darling, and I'll get you a soap box. I don't think the boys in the back room heard you." "I'd appreciate it if you would take Miss LaVerne and leave my party!" Eloise's voice never carried so well. In ten minutes everyone was gone but Barney. Eloise sat glumly on the couch watching him go around the room finishing up the hors d'oeuvres. "Well, you really told him," commented Barney, his mouth full. "You said it." "Rudolph won't like it a bit, but who's Rudolph?" "Sure. Who's Rudolph?" Barney filled his mouth before answering. "Nobody." AT 5 AND IO9 AND BETTER D E PARTMENT STORES