His two chief passions, however, are moving pictures—preferably American gangster and war films—and speed. This latter may be achieved through either fast motor cars or aeroplanes, with a slight inclination ioward the planes. His familiarity With makes and models is comparable io that of any robust American kid with a similarly developed propensity—but his thirst for additional knowledge is unappeasable. He wanted to know all about the latest things in American fighting planes—how fast they can go and how many machine guns they mount. When his ignorant companions were unable to furnish him with accurate details he seemed a bit put out. However, his face suddenly brightened.
I know," he said, fellow can tell me."
"maybe that "What fellow, Sabu?"
"The fellow that runs New York.
Who is he, now? I'm going to meet his wife. Oh, yes—I know! Roosevelt"
But then his face clouded again. No, he finally concluded—maybe "that fellow" wouldn't tell him after all.
Military secrets, you know.
The top drawing stars of today's entertainment world are all—more or less—inarticulate, says the "Oregonian." There's Shirley Temple, a child, whose private life utterances are restricted to the epigrams of her age. Charlie McCarthy is a wooden dummy who can only come to life via the lips of Boss Bergen. Walt Disney's Snow White, who will earn more money for her maker than any of her flesh and blood glamour sisters, has no life—or speech—away from the silver screen.
Not one of the above three has figured in a marriage or a divorce, Not one of them has ever expressed an opinion on politics or religion, or Pictures, or producers. They just do the job for which they are hired—entertaining the public. All of which raises an interesting question. Would it pay the ladies and gentlemen of the screen to keep private their lives, their thoughts, their everything, as with Temple, McCarthy and Snow White?
About 50 per cent. of the stars become vocal with the slightest encouragement—sometimes with dire career consequences. Others have certain topics that are taboo—such as imminent divorce or marriage. The rest, headed, of course, by Greta Garbo, maintain a clam-like silence. This attitude of Greta's has added immeasurably to her screen longevity and the glamour that goes with her mame. But what of the others who believe that the public is interested only in their pictures and why should columnists probe into their non-working lives?
Gary Cooper Talks About Daughter Gary Cooper, who is one of nature's tight-lipped gentlemen, has yet to make an enemy of reporter or fan for inability to discuss his life away from the camera (with the exception of daughter Maria—for whom Gary unloosens his conversational gates to admit—"She's wonderful.)
But Katharine Hepburn's same silent principles have cost her the good will of press and public alike. The reason for the success of the one thinks," he complained the other day. He was sensible enough not to add the usual blather offered by such stars as Jean Arthur, Kay Francis, Luise Rainer—"why should people be interested in what I say or do?" Feople are interested and will only lose that interest when the star is no longer a star.
I think Norma Shearer, more than any other entertainer, understands the art of revealing and concealing her private life. She is the mother of two children, but while this fact is never denied, she herself does not mention it when talking for publication. She believes—rightly or wrongly—that motherhood does not mix with screen glamour—that it will be difficult to believe in the celluloid Norma Shearer if too much is known of the Mrs. Irving Thalberg side of her existence. Norma recently was sensationally frank regarding the size of her private fortune, which she estimated at $25,000 a year. She did not, of course, mention the huge trust funds left for her children by her late husband, and over which she has a very large say-so.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.