THIS STORY HAS A MORAL

Radio Record, 15 July 1938, Page 13

THIS STORY HAS A MORAL

Special to the "Record"

by

JANE

RAEBURN

ERHAPS you have sometimes wondererd where the newspapers and film magazines find those extraordinary stories you are asked to believe about the film stars and their doings. The ramblings of a super-stimulated angler in an inland town never reached quite such flights of fancy and achievement as the greatest masterpieces of film ballyhoo. Even the lesser creations of Hollywood journalism surpass our commonplace imaginations. There are, for example, endless little paragraphs which tell you: That Ronald Colman collects peanut shells because his mother once travelled in Italy. That Shirley Temple signed 8567 autographs in one raorning, then spent the rest of the day copying pothooks at school. That John Barrymore might never have had a profile at all if he had not so quickly fallen out of love when five years old with Mary Jones at the corner. He used to press hig nose against the window-pane in his father’s drawing-room, waiting to see her go by, but she played "hookey" one day with Lionel and John never forgave her. His nose, no longer pressed against the Window-pane, was permitted to develop as Hollywood intended. That Jon Hall keeps a sucker preserved in alcohol on bis mantelpiece. He cut it off an 18-foot octopus with which he once battled under water

for 22 minutes by the stop-watch. That Deanna Durbin still goes to bed with a teddy bear given her by an aunt nine years ago. / ‘That Greta Garbo, at the age of .15 months, bit her nurse in the ealf ‘because she wouldn’t let her alone, . PHIS is the sort of information that is circulated from Hollywood to every corner of the earth where there’s paper and printer’s ink. It reads like nonsense (and much of it is), but a fair proportion, nevertheless, igs actually fact, heavily embellished, that has been solemnly dug up and solemnly recorded by the hundreds of journalists who exist upon the public’s insatiable appetite to learn the least detail about their film favourites’ lives and loves. In no other place on earth, surely, are there such strange values on news as Hollywood sets. In no other place do journalists make so much money from writing about such

utter trivialities. If you are interested to know how they do it, read the following little story (which has a moral if you can find it) that originated from a Hollywood reporter, and is probably typical of newsgarnering methods in the City Under Camera :- A CHARMING young woman walked jauntily into the Warner Bros.’ offices. ‘Good morning," she said brightly to the man at the inquiry desk. "Good morning." She dropped her bright voice quickly and leaned acros¢ to him. "I want some information,’ she whispered. "Certainly, miss, what is it you want to know?" She thought a moment. "Have you ever seen any of the male stars without their clothes?" The inquiry man glared. "No!" The young woman made a moue. She suggested he might visit them in their dressing-rooms. "But why should I? What do. you want?’ "Well, to be frank,’ she admitted, speaking well into his ear, "I want to know how many bairs they have on their chests. I want a story about the stars’ hairy chests." "They won't tell you.’ said the

inquiry man firmly. "You'll never find out, I think it’s a silly story anyway." She persisted. "Leslie Howard | started it. Claims there are hairs under his shirt. Surely, your players must have some!" She spoke secornfully, but the in# quiry man was sulky, not to be drawn. She waited; then, as the _ silence grew, made an opening. "I read that Pat O’Brien has hairs." "He’d beat a gorilla,’ conceded the inquiry man. The young woman seized her advautage and went on eagerly. ‘Then is it true he’s tattooed on his chest, and that be had the tattooed skin removed and made into a lampsbade? A Jampshade with a green border that matched the other furnishings of his home?" "Not true, " said the man. "He never was tattooed on his chest." "And there isn’t any lampshade? "There is not," (Contd. on p. 30.)

Story with Moral ° tener (Continued from page 13.)

"Too bad," she said. "It was Such & good story." Then added: "Robert Taylor is proud there are hairs on his chest." , "So’s everyone," grunted the inquiry man. "O’Brien is, so are Humphrey Bogart, George Brent and Paul Muni. Muni rears a forest." "Go on," she urged. "What about Brian Aherne? He’s been working in ‘The Great Garrick,’ hasn’t he?" "We has and he hasn’t," said the inquiry man. "Now you’re being flippant," she complained. "Well, he has been working but he’s got no hairs. Not enough for you to mention anyway." "I'll mention them," she s#id decidedly, "even if they’re only two. Straggling, 1 suppose?’ she prompted. "Like &rrol Flynn{s?" "T expect so," answered the inquiry man wearily. "And Wayne Morris?" "Wew-scattered." "Dick Powell." "Same." ° "Kdward G, Robinson?" ‘What would you think, lady?’ "Well, I’a think plenty." "Right again. Now, look here. who started you on this silly story?" "I told you. Leslie Howard." "You run along," pleaded the inquiry man, "and say that Howard’s chest is as smooth as a baby’s. ‘That’ll start something. I’ve got work to do." "It's my assignment," she suid stubbornly, "I can’t be bothered to quarrel with you. Just before I go, do tell me. Do you think Dick Powell considers his few scattered hairs a handicap to his career ?"’ "Look here, skip it. Run along. I still think it’s a silly story." The young woman looked at the inquiry man in surprise. "Do you? But it might be funny." The inquiry man laughed hoarsely. "Good-bye," he said. "Good-bye. . ." ND next week probably the interview appeared under huge black headlines, with pictures. And here we are, reproducing at least half of it in the "Radio Record." Faney !