Silver Screen (May-Oct 1939)

How Women Rule WHEN people in Hollywood get talking about who has Power in Hollywood, they usually do it in whispers and among small groups of intimates. There are certain Powers behind thrones and there is always that drab little man who sits in the corner of the set all day and no one knows what he is doing there. There is the inevitable blonde secretary of a Big Man and there is the brawny bodyguard of a certain male star. No one knows anything, mind you, but everyone has an idea, and they glance over their shoulders as they murmur what they have heard and what they really think about who cracks the whip over the picture industry. It was in such a mystic and agitated group that a young actor — a newcomer, but a powerful one — suddenly raised his voice and proclaimed: "I haven't the faintest idea of who runs the picture industry. I only know that it's run by men. But I know who runs Hollywood's private and social life, who directs the manner in which Hollywood lives and thinks and dresses and eats. "Women! That's who! Women! "They don't have anything to say about how studios are run or how pictures are made. But, boy, how they crack the whip when they aren't on the set! Whee-ew!" He sounded so doggoned bitter about it all, and he's only been here six months. I wanted to know how he thought women cracked that whip. But such a patter of discussion broke out that I couldn't make myself heard right away. While I was waiting to get a word in edgewise, I kept thinking of something that Ronald Colman said to me several years ago. We had been talking about super-super premieres. Those were the Upper left to lower right: Bob Young says even his daughter gives orders. Pat O'Brien says salesmen try to please his wife, not him. Jimmy Stewart resents men standing at cocktail parties. Ty Power enjoys having Annabella supervise. They most certainly hav« the say and if you don* think so just read hov the male stars feel about ii By J Helen Louise Walker days before studios started taking train loads of guests to far points to view th openings of pictures. Premieres in thos' days were in the home territory but the; were pretty strenuous, even then. "Do you imagine," Ronnie inquirec with some heat, "that any man in hi senses would put on a white tie and tails buy fifteen dollars' worth of orchids, bat ter his way through traffic and mobs, pas photographers and microphones anc searchlights, just to look at a, motion pic hire unless some woman bullied him int< doing it? "If he hasn't already seen the thinj previewed, he can see it on the seconc night of its run in mental comfort anc physical security. Maybe some of th< younger fry like to dress up and escorl lush young things on these occasions But a man outgrows it, I assure you Women don't seem to outgrow it. So sometimes, a man has to go!" Ronnie had me there. I didn't knew of a single man, over thirty, who woulc consent to attend one of those hectic opening nights unless some woman bulliec him a little bit. But, down inside, I was wondering whether the men didn't like the fanfare, too. Just hated to admit it I don't always trust the he-man posj turing. The discussion, occasioned by the young actor's remark, was growing louder anc more confused. I wanted to ask some of those dominant-sounding males about Ouida Rathbone's terrific party not so long ago — the one for the Screen Guild — but you couldn't get a word in by