Silver Screen (Jun-Oct 1940)

90 Silver Screen for October 1940 What's New in Tampons? THE KOTEX* TAMPON i _JT'S "QUILTED" ..Quilti„gmakes M* ,he to delicate tissues. for trial supply today. OMr 25* FOR /2 Accepted for Advertising by The journal of the American Medical Association ( Trade Marks Reg. U. S. Pat, Office) ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ HBS-Room 1450A, 919 N. Michigan Ave., Chicago. I enclose 10c for trial supply of EIBS, the Kotex Tampon, mailed in plain package. Name Address City State with Ray Milland in "Untamed," a Technicolor epic of the north woods. A Paramount drama coach and makeup expert recently studied Miss Morison carefully and gave the following confusion to the world via publicity releases. Said one: ". . . Miss Morison is a striking brunette with a brunette voice and a distinctly blonde personality, with all the vivacity of the blonde and the intensity of the brunette — she's all mixed up, but sweet." Not half as mixed up as the drama coach is. . . . The other one stated: "Blonde-brunette. She's fire— and ice. Her hair is auburn, but what goes on underneath is platinum. Decidedly a blonde with blue eyes — and dark hair. Funny, but awfully interesting." Not fumy at all, Joe, but mighty, mighty interesting. .... Suppose we study her — perhaps, we're smarter than these Hollywood experts. She is mildly athletic. Stands five feet five inches and weighs 118. She rides and fences and expects to study with Basil Rathbone's fencing instructor. She and her brother have bought a sailing ketch (for $160) because they detest stinkpots (motorboats). She bicycles, but has had to alone. Now however, her English cousins, Dennis and Ursula Skeate, newly arrived, are going to pedal with her. She swims badly and is too lazy for tennis. She will take walks in New York City where "there are things to see," but not in Hollywood. Her eating tastes run to roast beef, chicken, European dishes and Italian and Spanish ones. Her cooking ability is minus, with her only real achievement being tea-making. She uses an earthenware pot that she has rinsed well with boiling hot water. She measures the tea with her fingers. Then she brings the pot to the kettle and lets it brew for two or three minutes. She has tried her pretty hand at omelette Mussolini and a chafingdish present resulted in a cafe diable that put the family under the table. Crepes suzette are distinctly out. She is a terrific Mexican devotee and has haunted the (New York) Museum of Modern Art's Mexican exhibition. She and her brother, Alex, first drove to Mexico in his '35 Ford and stayed there three weeks. For the fun of it, Alex sang at a night club and the senoritas begged him to stay. He did — and formed a band. Pat flew back to the U. S. for Christmas, but returned in a month with her mother. Oddly enough, Pat doesn't like Mexican food, but loves the country's art. She visited Mexico's great artist, Diego Rivera and he responded by taking her to spots few gringos ever have seen. He ended up by giving her two figurines his Indians had unearthed from Aztec mounds. Something Mr. Rivera rarely does. She bought two statues of St. Francis from natives. The statues were two hundred years old and cost her 160 pesos— whatever that may come to. She wears a native-made, silver charm bracelet loaded with miniature arms, legs and coins. There's a reason for it all. If you have a pain in your leg you buy a tiny silver leg, attach it to your bracelet and zingo! the pain she is gone! One of the coins had what she called the Pillars Of Hercules on it. The Pillars are two columns held together by a weaving line from which was taken our dollar sign — catch on? Her understanding of Mexico was broadened by reading Prescott's "Conquest Of Mexico." Her description of the country is better than good: wonderful, strange, tragic, poor, beautiful, terrific, artistic — a land of natives who are appreciative of their country and at the same time proud and lazy. Her movie favorites are Bette Davis and Greta Garbo on the female side and Charles Boyer and Robert Donat on the other. Oddly enough, these two gentlemen are precisely the men she wants to play opposite. She doesn't get to see many movies these days, but she is taking up sculpture and the piano and that occupies her spare time. She dances the rhumba and the tango, but is no jitterbug. She doesn't mind talking over the telephone and hops out of bed early in the morning. But not until after her usual breakfast of coffee and orange juice which has been served her in it. As for clothes — she believes evening dress can go to any extreme. Isn't used to slacks yet, even though her tailor sent over three pairs some time ago. Likes peasant dresses and tailored suits and fussy afternoon wear. "But," she grinned, "hats really send me!" (To borrow a very expressive word from the jitterbug's dictionary). In one picture sequence, Mr. Naish had to grab her negligee-covered arm while he yelled, "You little fool!" As she dressed for the opera that night she was admiring the way her strapless evening gown hung, when she looked up into the mirror. There on her arm was Mr. Naish's hand print clear as day! Her reading runs to biographies — such as the "Life Of Leonardo da Vinci," which she recommends. She found "How Green Was My Valley" quite good, but on the whole doesn't care for fiction. Detective and ghost stories don't come under this ban— at least, not if they're gory or creepy. She is the world's worst correspondent. Gets moody when she's writing a letter and uses up piles of paper for one short thank-you note. Usually ends up by forgetting to mail the thing. Is one of those women who likes both men and women for friends. Sleeps in a nightgown and goes in for elaborate bed jackets. Likes a bath before bed and then plop in between the sheets with a book and a hand to the radio switch where she listens to Fred Allen, Jack Benny or Bob Hope. Likes the "Music To Read By" program, but finds in her case that it's often music to sleep by. She has the longest hair in Hollywood — 42 inches long. She has to wash it in the shower because it gets all tangled up in the basin. Swabs it with soap, rushes under shower, out again and more soap, back again for a final rinse. Her 42-inch tresses beat Dorothy Lamour's former 36, Anna May Wong's 34, Evelyn Venable's 34 and Arleen Whelan's 32. She's funny about the daily rushes (results of day's shooting). Hates to see them, they give her an inferiority complex. Mr. Naish (who seems to be helpful to every Paramount star this writer has interviewed) advised her to see them — to correct acting mistakes. Lynne Overman told her to ignore them if they bothered her. She compromised. Overman, she says, is the same off screen as on— never seems