•î*V.ill rr íin-islittud fill tlic tusviTiny wig French actor ^'vcs Muniaiid, .Mnili.-y's dinnershe wears in A/v6>ij/(i/, where she mas- partner above, is leading man in liernew lilm. Herquerades as a Japanese entertainer. husband, Steve Parker, is the show's producer.

I GALL ON

SHIRLEYMACLAINE

By PETE MARTIN

The star of Ccm-Can and TheApartment tells of the lucky l^reaksthat took her from a Broadwaychorus line to Hollywood stardom,

Left: Un the set of My G'm/w, now being filmed in Japan :Shirley. Japanese actress Voko Tani and director Jack Cardiff.

ry and Laun'ncr llarv.-y alar ds f'llow sthool -teachers in TILO Ijitfi, to \v released ncxl month.

With Frank Sinatra in Can-Can. Shirley defends their off-scrccn friendship; "There's nothing evil, or even questionable, about ¡i " In All in a Night's 11 Wit with Deap Martin. Thechemistry' between Dean and me is good," she sa>'s.

Shirley MacLainc is tall, leggy, bosomy.Ht'i" smile curves upward likf a sliver ofnew moon b;il;inccd on its bottom. Othrr

portions of her face which trend upward are ihetip of her nose, the small half-moon srnile linesbracketing the corners of her mouth and theouter ends of her eyes. The over-all effect isthat of a child murmuring "M'm'm'm'm'm"in a peanut-butter advertisement.

She is so tall that when she stood on tipioein ballet school the top of her head was ex-actly six feet from the floor. She is also out-sized "careerwise"—as tlie writers of her ifKiOfilm. The Apartmenl. would put it. Her per-formance in Some Came Running won her anomination for a Hollywood Oscar in l.Q.'if).Last year she altendcd the \'eniec Film Festi-val to take home a Golden Lion for her work inThe Apartment. Still later last year she com-pleted work in ii picture wilh the title TwnLoves. After she wound up that picture, sherushed off to Japan to appear opposite YvesMontand in ¡\íy Ceisha, a lilm beinR made byher imprcsario-movie-produccr liushand, SteveParker. To get bnckground for this movie, shelived in a geisha house for two weeks.

Obviously, Shirley MaeLaine has becomewhat is known in Hollywood parlance as "'anextremely hot property." . s these words arewritten, she has just been nominated, alongwith four other film stars, for one of the top"Oscars" bestowed eaeh year by the Academyof Motion Picture Arts and Sciences—the"Best Performance by an Actress" in 1.960.The 1.9ßn awards will be announced shortlybefore this article reaches Poit readers, buteven if Miss MaeLaine does not win, il shouldbe remembered that an Academy nominationin itself is considered n great lionor in the en-tertainment world.

A few seasons back, when I was trying toanalyze the mysteries of Marilyn Monroe'sspecial appeal for publication, a friend of mine,Flaek Jones — who labors in the Hollywoodsail mines as a publicist—eame to my rescuewith his off-ihe-cufl' appraisal of Amei'ica'shome-grown sex kitten. When he heard thatI was about to call on Shiiley NLncLainc, hevolunteered another portion of Hollywood c.i-perttie, delivering it flavored with his ownbrand of verbal yeast while we stood on thecurbstone before Dino's Rr-itniirant on The

Strip. "I've got a theory about this MaeLaine,buddy l)oy," he Inld mi-, lilowinii a clcud ofeigaretie smoke from his cnoulh, ihcn suckingit quickly back into his nostrils. "This girl isthe biggest thing since sliced bread. She's aclean break with Hollywood's phony glamourand synthetic sexiness. I iines have ehanged,pal, and she's part of this now period. When Ithink about her I get a playback in my head oftwo words, 'natural' and 'honest.' Put it thisway: She's not an aetressy actress. Certainlyshe's not a broad on whom the studios havespent bucketfuls of money trying to change herinto a sexpot. This MaeLaine had Ihat goingfor her when she got here."

Some weeks later when I ealled uponShirley MacLainc in her New York hotel suite,1 put this, as \\c\\ as oiher matters, ttp to her.She discussed them with me between a suc-cession of hot-fudge sundaes — "they give meenergy"—ordered up from room ser\iee. Shesat on an overstuffed divan, eurled her longlegs under her and said, "To me it's simple;whatever's in tne just comes out. I figure if thatpleases people. I'd better not change it or fooiaround wilh il. Wilh (Continued on Page 9«)

Ft: Shirley and Steve Parker at home in Tokyo with ihcir daughter Stephanie, four,•vc works in Japan, so Shirley and Steph must cross the Pacific lo be with him.

T H E S A T U R D A Y t ï V E N I N C

1 Call on Siurlo\' MacL;i(Continued from Page 27)

me it's instinctive, like being a mother.I don't know a thing about DoctorSpock, and I know less about lx;lngwhat tbe books call 'lieing an adequatewife' But I do know this, I like Ix-ingboth. Well go into tbat later "

Outside the windows of her suite duskwas feeling Its way across Central Park.She ran her own long fingers throughthe hacked-at hairdo she'd worn in TheApartment and told me, "Some of thestudios I've worked for have tried to frizmy hair. Some of them have even talkedup a storm about changing the shape ofmy mouth, or hanging false ejelashes onme. But as for the rest of me. they hiredme this way, and I figure they must haveknown what they were doing. 1 don'tremember any studio ever trying to buildup my bustline, but there's not as muchneed for that as you might think. If agirl pushes herself in tbe right direction,she doesn't need to add anything. I'veheard that certain studios have put onbig campaigns to sell the images of somewomen stars as 'se\ goddesses." Nobodyever thought of doing that for me. Itwould be a kook notion anyhow, for youcan'l make cheese out of chalk."

She spooned up a ereamy gob of sun-dae, licked her lips and asked. "Wheredo you want lo slart? We could startwith 1954. Everything happened to mein 1954; like I was Carol Haney's under-study in The Fajama Game, and I signeda Hollywood contract. Before that I'dbeenachorusgirl. Before that I'd bummedaround Broadway. On the other hand,we could discuss the 'and then I wasbom' part of my story. Ask me what Iremember about my ñrst stage appear-ance."

When I fell in with her suggestion, shelaughed and wenl on, "I'm glad youasked me that, because 1 remember it vi\-idly. 1 was four, and 1 did a numbercalled An .Apple for the Teacher al theMosque Tbeater in Richmond, Virginia.the city where my parents were living atthe time. I tripped on the curtain, theaudience laughed and, little ham that Iwas, I ate it up. After that I tripped onthat curtain every time 1 passed it.

"My parents had entered me in danc-ing school because I had weak ankles.But once I heard dance music, nobodyhad to make me go to dancing school.I really loved it. Father is a real-estateman. but he had been a band leaderbefore he married mother, and motherhad been an actress. I guess I inheritedshow-business blood from both of them,but if 1 have a sense of rhythm. 1 got itfrom my dad.

"When my parents moved north to Ar-lington. Virginia, 1 attended Washingtonand Lee High School." Her eyes crinkled,and she added, "I had to give up base-ball because I kept slamming more homeruns than the boys. I had sense enoughto know that that wasn't very feminine,and I decided if [ ever wanted a familyI'd better drop baseball. 1 was a cheer-leader too. Jumping up in the air andtrying to make my heels touch the backof my head seemed the biggest thing inthe world.

"'If you saw me in the movie versionof Can-Can, you probably thought of meas a pretty big girl. I am big. If I don'tlook that big to you now, it's because Iam sitting down, in Can-Can 1 wore four-inch heels. Even without heels 1 am fivefeet, si.\ and a half. But the point is. Iwas this tall when I was twelve years old.That may be fine if you're a boy, but ifyou're a girl and you weigh ninety pounds,and you're only twelve, and you're allthat tall, life can be grim. At that age I

was just kind of blah." She opened hermouth and kt her lips (lutter to make the"blah."

"Tlicre were three other girls in highschool as tall as I. Our height was a bondbetween us. We kepi wishing that theyears would rush by so the boys we likedwould grow up."

1 wondered how she got to New Yorkfrom Arlington, a suburb of Washington,D.C., and she told me, "My family sentme north one summer to study ballet. Idid that for a couple of summers. Thenthe third year I auditioned for a replace-ment in the chorus of OKlalioma.', got the_iob and stayed with il through the sum-mer.

"By that time I'd begun to look the waya girl is supposed to look. You wouldn'tknow this, of course, but it's a great satis-faction to a girl when she realizes that she

and hoping Ihat no one would rememberthat I'd been there before.

"The third time was my lucky one.Richard Rodgers selected me from themob of girls on the stage by saying, "Hey,you with the legs.' The suspense wasawful, my stomach was full of knots.Mr. Rodgers said, 'Do a little jazz," Idid It. Then he said, 'Do ballet ' I didthat too. Thon he said, 'Sing,' and .some-body thumped a piano and 1 sang, whilethe other girls stood there, hating me.When 1 was done I felt completelydrained, but Mr. Rodgers said 'O.K.,'and the next thing I knew a secretarycame up to me and said, 'You've got thejob. What's your name? We'd like tomake out an advance payment to you—that is, if you need it.' Need it! 1 forgotall about the phony name I was usingand right quick said ' MacLaine.' Happilynobody noticed."

She recalled something else. "It didn'ttake the producer of that show long tofind out that I had a loud voice—I can

Shirley MacLaine (i.-i]i<ri \•..l. iiinniíuiii iJ IMI an .Academy Award for her I960 per-formance in Tfie Apartment. With her in this scene are Jack Lemmon and Edie Adams.

is a girl. She discovers why she's onearth."

She studied tbe half-empty sundae dishon the coffee table before her as if con-sidering a replacement for that too. Ifshe had that in mind, she decided againstit for the moment.

"When I went back to New York afterbeing graduated from Washington andLee Higb, I was seventeen." she contin-ued, "but I'd saved some oi the moneyI'd made in OkUihoina! and I decided itwas high time that 1 was paying for every-thing myself. I joined the St. John TerrellMusicCircus in Lambe rtville. New Jersey,but when I came back to New Yorkafter Lambertville. things were roughjobwise. It was then that I heard abouttrade shows."

1 said that i didn't know what a tradeshow was. She explained. "Suppose some-body has a refrigerator to sell; showsbuilt around that refrigerator travel allover the country so people can see it setin glamorous surroundings. 1 dancedaround a refrigerator for six months.Occasionally I'd stop to open one of ilsdoors so the audience could look inside.

"When I got back to New York.Rodgers and Hammerstein were audi-tioning for the chorus of A/c oriil Juliet.I auditioned for it three times before 1made it. The first two times I wasthumbed out, but I kept coming rightback, using a different name each time

scream it up pretty good if I want to—soI was given a line or two to speak. I re-member the first line 1 ever spoke on aBroadway stage, lt was this; 'Seems likeonly yesterday that Suzie left the show.'I went home nights and worked on thatline and polished it and tried it severaldifferent ways. I'd think. 'Tomorrow I'llgive It something it hasn't had before.I'll put more feeling into it.' " She giggled."Isn't that silly?"

She looked down at her feet. They ap-peared to be shod in either plastic orrubber high-heeled storm boots. I amnot very knowing about such things, butto me they didn't seem to blend toosmoothly with her Capri pants and theman's shirt she wore with its tails knottedaround her middle. I remembered an-other thing Flack Jones had told me; "Inever knew a dame with such a totallack of concern about wbat she's wearingor how she looks in it. That goes for herhair too. She features a chicken-in-the-rough hairdo. It looks as if mice havebeen nibbling at it."

Shirley MacLaine seemed to read mymind—or it could have been that I hadslared overlong at the casually arrangedlocks. She studied herself in a mirrorhanging on the wall across the room,grinned at me and said, "Long hair's apain—I mean, it's a bother. Thai's whyI ended up with mine like this. 1 choppedIt off when I was in the stage production

of Can-Can, because the producer of thatshow hinted strongly that I ought to dusomething about it quickly. I was wearingit in a ponytail, and every time I did aquick turn, my hair took half an hourto follow me around. So one night be-tween the first and second acts I let ithave it. I was chipping my leeth onbobby pins anyhow, and it's so mu jheasier this way. I forget that it's thereuntil things begin to turn dark, then Irealize that my bangs have grown so longI'm having trouble seeing through them,and I hack away at them again. I reallydo comb my hair in the morning when Iget up, but I must admit that I don'tcomb it any more, except with my fingerseven after I've driven in an open car."

She eyed a spoonful of melting icecream from which streamers of coolingfudge were dripping and said, "I guesswe're up to Tlie Fajama Game. I washired for it first as a chorus girl, then asan understudy for the star of the show,Carol Haney. The Pajama Game openedon a Thursday, but just before the curtaincame down after the following Wednes-day matinee, Carol broke her ankle, Iknow that kind of thing happens only mcornball plots, but this really </;'</happen.To make it even cornier. I'd had onlyone rehearsal as Carol's understudy, andmost of what I knew about her role Idlearned simply by watching her from thewings.

"I was engaged to Steve Parker, a NewYork actor, at that point. Steve also dab-bled in theatrical production, and hehad his fingers in the producing end uftelevision too, I'd left the matinee per-formance early on that Wednesday after-noon to whip up a little dinner for Stevein my apartment before the evening pier-formance. Although I was Carol's under-study, 1 was still really only a chorusgirl, and that depressed me. After all. Ihad just finished being a chorus girl mthe hit musical. Me and Juliet, for i\whole year. 1 was drawing a hundreddollars a week from The Pajama Game.but I had some money saved from Meand Julivt, and I didn't want to be achorus girl all my life. 1 wanted to studyand make something of myself. So I madeup my mind to turn in my notice.

"1 was fifteen minutes late reachingthe theater that night, but my part in theshow was such a tiny one that I thoughtno one would care. When I arrived atthe theater, the stage manager and theproducer were both standing out in Forty-fourth Street, tbeir faces ashen, yelling atme, 'Where have you been? Haney'sbroken her ankle. You're on.' 1 wentinto a state of shock so profound 1 didr'teven think about the fact that I'd neverrehearsed any of Haney's lines. My In-stinctive reaction was, '1 hope 1 don'tdrop the little black derby she wears inher Steam Heat number.'"

Shirley MacLaine must have seensomething lacking in my face, for shesaid. "You didn't see The Pajama Game.did you?" When I confessed that I hadn'i.she filled me in. "The Steam Heat num-ber opened the second act. It was one ofthe all-time great classic jazz numbers.It was done in black tuxedos, with blackshoes. It was accompanied by tricks donewith black derbies. That's why my firstthought had been, i hope 1 don't dropCarol's hat.' I went upstairs and put on •Carol's clothes. Miraculously, they fitme perfectly. 1 put on my own bodymake-up, and my hands didn't shake.Even tlie fact that Carol's shoes wereloo small, and I had to wear my own,didn't throw me, although mine werehorrible-looking. It did upset me a littlethat the rest of the cast stood in thewings watching to see if I was going tomake it, but the only thing 1 did thatshowed 1 was {Continued on Page ¡00)

l o oT 11 B S A T U R D A Y T. V E N I N O 1' ' i S 1

iifnim ft«'<- w,V} HCIAOUS \\;IS U-ask somebody to L\III Stove ÜIKI tell liimlo picase como lo llic thciiler ¡iiid walcliiiiy IX'rio nuance,

"I liiiil SULII rcsjiLX-t for Sieve's opinionand tor liis good Uislc." she went on."Ihal I knc\\ lie wmild juilye me tairly.Tlie miiltilie;n.1eiJ nionsler uiitcliiny meIroni Ihc other side of tlie roolhglitsdidn't bother nic a bit. After its lirslloud moan, when il was told th;it Carolwasn't going on, the iiiidience iipplaudede\crything I did.

"Stc\e came biickstage alter the |ier-formance. bringing a yard-high stack ofnotes he'd made. \ \ e went home and satdown to go o\er his notes, when sud-denly I thought. '>ou're only ShirleyMacLaine ;ind you're going to be onthat stage the ne\t night, and the ne\lnight after that." and I Tell apart. A de-layed emotional reaction set m. But thene\t day the casi was called in. and werehearsed and rehearsed unlil I began toknow whal 1 was doing.

'"The third night that I went on asCarol's substituie. Hollywood producerHal Wallis saw me. Hed come to ihetheater to see Haney. but by thai timethe managemeni had had little eardsprinted and put in each seat. They read.'Tonight Miss Haney will be replaced byShirley MacLaine.' When Mr. Wallis readthis, he wanted to leave, but a friend oThis. Bob Goldstein, who was with him.persuaded him to stay, 'We have nothingelse to do." Goldstein said to him, andmaybe this kid is good. Lei's watch herfor a while."

"After the last act Mr. Wallis camebackstage to talk to me. I was pretlyvague about Hal Wallis. I'd heard thaihe was a succes.sful independent producerand once I'd seen a line on a screensomewhere: 'Hal Wallis presents DeanMartin and Jerry Lewis.' Anyway, althat point Hollywood was as far frommy mind as Kamchatka—even farther.So when Mr. Wallis asked. 'What areyou doing later?" I wasn't sure whetherhe wanted me for me or as an actress.So I said suspiciously. 'I'm probably dat-ing my fiancé. Why?" Mr. Wallis said."If you can find a free moment I hopethat you will meet me briefly in the OakRoom of The Plaza hotel. I'd like todiscuss your career and a molion-picturecontract."

"I went into my dressing room in adaze and put on the only clothes I hadthere that belonged lo me. They hap-pened to be blue jeans and an old lerry-clolh shin.

'"I'll never forget walking into the OakRoom and up to the George M.Cohan booth, where M r. Wallis wassilting. I doubt that he'll ever forget,either, bul if he was appalled at myclothes, he never batted an eye. It tookme only seconds to tell him what I'ddone before, theaterwise—nothing! I'dbeen in a lot of shows, bul always in Ihechorus. He seemed momentarily takenaback. I remember that he said. 'Oh,' ina flat voice, then he pulled himself to-gether and said, "Tm leaving for Europein the morning. I hope you'll drop inand see my East Coast representative,Irene Lee, so she can start drawing upa tentative contract with you,"

"'The next night the head man at Co-lumbia Pictures. Harry Cohn, came tosee me. Paramount sent someone to seeme. and a Metro representative droppedin. but all ilit'y did was ask questions."How much do you weigh? How tail areyou? What are your measurement?What else have you done?' None ofthem made me a definite offer; they jusllooked me over squinch-eyed, as if study-ing a prize filly. And I thought that un-dignified of them, even if I was a blue-jeans type.

"l-\)rlunalfly I didn't have to brood;ibout Ihem. lor Mr, Wallis .sent me amarconigram Irom mid-ocean, "Go toFox Movieione,' it said, 'and make ascreen test,' When he gol back fromFurope. he ran thai lest while I waitedwith bated breath, "Don't Lie so eager,MacLaine,' I told myself. "You probablyblew it; But my lest was O.K.. and I wasall iet to blasi off as Miss Screen Starletof 1954. when I read the small print inthe contract I'd signed. For the lirst timeI noticed that the contract called for meto come to work in December, and il wasnow only May. So I had to bide my lime.

"Carol's ankle finally healed. She wasback in the show all summer. Then shewas out again—for one night—laryngitis.Talk about corny: that was the one nightthat Alfred Hitcheock's representativechose to see the show. 1 don't knoww hether he moaned or nol when he foundthe little card in his seat telling him thathe paid money to see me instead of Haney.but he must have turned in a good reportabout me to his boss, for the next dayMr. Hitchcock called Mr. Wallis andasked him if 1 could work for him in hisnext picture, Tlw Trmihic Wiili Harrv. Mr.Wallis said. "Yes."'

She stood up. walked to a window,raised her arms toward the ceiling andstretched mightily. For a moment herCapri pants and her man"s shirt withits knotted tails around her middle weresilhouetted against the lights Ilickeringon outside. She lurned. came back tothe di\an. sat down and told me, "'Iheard afterward that Mr. Hitchcock'stalent scout had been told to look for'something unusual.' If that's what hewanted, he got it. for when 1 showed upat Mr, Hitchcock's room at the St. RegisHotel to meet him. I looked like a slob.It was raining, and I didn't want to ruinthe few clothes I had; so I had on thesame blue jeans I've lold you about andan awful-looking beat-up old trench coat.

"'Mr. Hitchcock was sitting with hisdear, sweet wife. Alma; he's very short,and I must have towered over him, be-cause he said hurriedly. 'Please sit down.'Then he asked me, "What pictures haveyou starred in?' I said. "None," He asked."Well, what pictures have you done?' Isaid. 'None.' "You nimi have done a fewTV shows," he said. 'I'll look at thekinescopes." I said. "I'm sorry, sir, therehaven't been any.' I could feel the floortipping up on end and me sliding ofl". butwhen he asked. "What have you done be-fore this?" I kept right on telling him thetruth. I said, "Nothing," He swallowedhard, hut he's quite a man. He just said,"Why don"t you go out and round up awardrobe to wear in my picture?'

-I read Thi' ¡niiihlf With Harry script,then I went out and bought some clothes.I brotight them back and shov^ed them trMr. Hitchcock. He liked them."

She paused a moment, then went on.""Just before I went up to Vermont to be-gin work in The Troiihh- With Hurry,Steve Parker and I were married. Every-body seemed upset when I showed up forthe location shots with a new hushand.The idea seemed to be that a girl isn'tsupposed to start a new career and getmarried too, I didn't buy that. I knew 1could give both careers all I had, and 1have!"'

She studied her feet once more, and Igot the impression that she was wrigglingher toes inside her high-heeled rubberfootgear. "Right after The Troiihlf IVithHarry," she told me, '"I went to Holly-wood to make my first film for Mr. Wal-lis, a picture called AriiM\ and Moilch. Init I was Ihe hussy who ran up and downstairs in a yellow sunsuit. chasing DeanMartin and Jerry Lewis. And I hatedthat. If Vm asked to do something in apicture which seems unfeminine or un-ladylike to me. I can't stand it."

She eyed me quizzically and said. "'Ithink I know what you're wonderma.You're wondering how the word "ladylike"fits the part I played in Sonif dime Run-'linn. The girl I played in that picture iruva bit of a tart, but there was nothing un-feminine aboul her. After all. she knewhow to love, and to me that's all-impor-tant. I know it"s not exactly a complimentto me. but that was the easiest role I'veever played, 1 only had to read that scriptonce, and I knew what that girl was like.inside and out; what she wore, what shethought, what she did when she wasalone. 1 even loved the bits in which 1 hadto pretend she was stoned. 1 drink verylittle, but a lot of the fans who saw me inthat picture swore I'd had a few nips loomany.

"Since then,'" she went on, ""Steve hasmoved to Tokyo, He specializes in pro-ducing documentary films there and indiscovering and packaging entertainmenttalent. He finds Oriental talent not onlyin Japan but also in Hong Kong, inVietnam, in Cambodia and in Indonesia.After assembling them, he routes theseacts all over the Far East, and if he thinksthey "re good enough, he bundles them upand ships them lo the Llmled States."

She looked at me inquiringly, thenasked, ""Did you see the huge night-clubshow. Holiday in Jupun?" I shook myhead. ""Weil. Steve put it together."' shetold me. "And among other place-., itplayed the Latin Ouarter in New York,and the Latin Casino near Mcrchantviile.New Jersey."

'Ht-re comcv the part I was telling \ou about."'

She thought for a moment, then went•m. "You may be wondering how Steveand I manage to make our marnaye workall the way across the Paeilk. The answeris, if you love somebody enough, you canmake anything work. I happen to loveSteve and he happens to love me, and wehappen to have a four-year-old daughterStephanie, whom we both love. 1 couldhave done a Grace Kelly and walked outon my career so Stephie and I couldlive in Tokyo wilh Steve, but I didn'twant to give up acting, and Steve didn'twant me to either.

""If 1 had to choose between Steve anda career, there's no question about mychoice. I'd take Steve. For, after all, he'swhat my life is all about. It's hard for usto live apart, just as hard as it would befor you and your wife to live apart or forany husband and wife who love eachother to live apart. But Steve and I havetalked It all out. We think we know whatwe're doing, and for the time being we'vedecided to play it this way. Even so. wethink we have a richer and fuller life thanmany people.""

She looked at me from under the fringeof her bangs and lold me, "We keep a lotcloser to each other than most peoplewould think possible. We put in so manytranspacific telephone calls each monlhthat our phone bills are staggering. Theonly way we can ever hope to gel even isto buy enormous blocks of InternationalTel. and Tel, stock. We call each othertwo or Ihree times a week, and each calllasls about an hour and a half. They coslabout two hundred and fifty dollars acall.'" My eyes must have widened, for sheinsisted, ""That's the average,"'

She uncurled her legs, slid down in herdivan unlil they stretched out before her;she laced her fingers behind her head andsaid, "Anyhow, at this particular point Ihave a contract with Hal Wallis, and thatkeeps me in California, although, thankGod, thai contract is aboul to end. Whenmy contract with Mr. Wallis is completed.Steve and 1 may work things out in a dif-ferent way. I may spend six months a yearin California and six months in the Orientwith Steve."

1 said that I'd seen photographs of hertaken with her daughter and I'd neverseen a mother-daughtercombination whoresembled each other so much. She ad-mitted. ""Steph does look like me, but Ihope someday to have a boy that lookslike Steve. Steve is really handsome. ¡think Vd like to have about three chil-dren,"'

I remarked that most of the youngmothers I knew seemed to want live orSIX. ""Not me,'" she said flatly. '"When youhave too many children you have to de-vote your whole life to them, and it"s adisservice to them. They ought to learn todepend on themselves as early as possible.Steph"s only four, bul she thinks nothingol' traveling back and forth between Hol-lywood and Japan by herself to see herdad. Because she's been adjusting tothings all her life, she seems able to faceup to her lillle problems more easily thanmost children. She never cries or feels in-secure or rejected,

""Steve and 1 have our own ideas offun," she continued. ""We like to take acouple of cans of beer and go to a drive-in.We prefer drive-ins where science-fictionpictures or horror pictures are showing soI can scream without bothering anybody.Whatever is simple, that's what Steve andI like. We like to go up to the High Sierrasand climb mountains or go fishing, 1 didihat when I was si.\ months pregnantwith Stephie."

I was curious about what her doctorhad thought of Ihat. '"He th(.iu¡:ht it wasgreat." she said. ""I had a doijtnr whobelieved that if there's anything diflicultabout a pregnaticy, it"s usually something

April 32, 190t ,

the prospective mother dreams up herself.Three months later, when Steve wasaboul to go baek to Japan, I told him thatI'd like to have our baby before he left,so he eould see it. I was nearly full term,and 1 knew that there was a drug whichcould be given to me intravenously to in-duce labor. My doctor thought that wasO.K., too; su I drove to the hospital,parked my car, unpacked my bag and hadmy baby. A couple of days later, whenSteve came to the hospital to see us, Stephand I had gone home."

I asked when her daughter had begunto look like a carboncopy of hi;r. "Aboutthe third day." she told me. "She lookedlike Rocky Graziano when she was born."

Picking up the phone, she ordered an-other hot-fudge sundae from room serv-ice. When Ú came, she dipped a spooninto it. then said slowly, "I've read abouta group called The Clan. I know you havetoo. This group is supposed to consist ofFrank Sinatra, Dean Martin, SammyDavis Jr., Peter Lawford. Joey Bishopand me, although some writers make thelist longer. So far as I know, to date, no-body has ever taken the trouble to ask anyof us who are supposed to be in The Clanabout The Clan, although by the timeyour interview with me hits the news-stands some writer may have taken careof that oversight.

"If anyone did ask me about it, I'dhave to tell him that i don't believe such athing exists. I've never heard anyone inour group use the term; we don't holdoffices or elect officers. What does exist isthis: There are certain people in Holly-wood who enjoy being with each other,and I'm lucky enough to be one of them.Our friendship, our respect for each other,the fun we have together^thoîe all exist.

"I've read that Frank cails us on thephone and says, "Get over here ' That's asilly lie. It simply doesn't happen. I'vealso read that The Clan has its own lan-guage. That also is a stupid lie. We haveour favorite words and expressions, butI'm sure that you and your friends haveyour favorite words and expressions too.People automatically take on the verbalcolor of their closest associates. "

Anger grew behind her eyes as she wenton, "I've even heard that I'm the 'denmother' of The Clan." She put down herspoon and pushed her fingers against theoverstuffed divan until white flecks showedunder her nails. "I'll try to be a ladyabout that and, instead of telling youwhat I'd like to tell you, I'll say it is a fig-ment of somebody's imagination. It'strue that the chemistry between FrankSinatra, Dean Martin and me is good.It's also fun, and it's rare. But there'snothing evil, or even questionable, aboutthis relationship."

The laugh brackets at the corners ofher mouth were not there when she toldme, '"A lot of people have said a lot ofthings about me, but almost everyoneagrees that I'm honest. Not that honestyis unusual in a motion-picture actress.She has to be, because the movie cameradigs deeper than anything or anybodyelse, and she can't fool it. Anyway, thetruth is that Frank Sinatra's capacity forfriendship IS all-encompassing. He doesn'tget a good press, but I know a Frank thatthose who write about him don't know.Maybe they've had run-ins with him.That hasn't happened to me. Frank's abundle of contradictions. At times he'sunreasonable, at times temperamental.He can be compassionate and insensitive,gentle and rough. But he can also be askind as anyone I've ever known. If a per-son has all those contradictions, and youstill find him good to know, you've got tocall him your friend."

She glanced at the clock on the mantel.Unlike most hotel clocks, it was actuallyrunning.

Before I left I wondered if she wouldtell me about the day Mr. and Mrs.Khrushchev popped in for lunch at theTwentieth Century-Fox studio and caughther big dancing number in Can-Can. Iwanted to know if Mr. Khrushchev hadshown any noticeable reaction to herperformance. "He seemed to like it verymuch," she laughed. "He smiled through-out the whole performance, yet he com-plained afterward that it had been toorisqué. If he thinks ne were risqué, heshould have seen the original cancan. Thestudio research department told us that in

the 'Nineties French girts had danced itwithout panties, and the cafés where itwas danced were constantly raided.

"I don't think Mrs. Khrushchev likedeven our comparatively modest costumes.She wasn't smiling, and I think that Mr.Khrushchev began to di^iapprove after hesaw the frown on mamma's face. He maybang his U N desk with his shoe, but, justlike any other husband, he chickens outwhen his wife catches him getting toobright-eyed—girl wise.'"

I stood up to go. She got to her feettoo. She looked around the living room

IO!

of her suite and said, "You know. I wastrapped here all morning and the bestpart of this afternoon, and if I don't getout of whatever place I'm in now andthen, I get a shul-m feeling. So, just be-fore you came. I blasted out of here andtore around the park for half an hour."The ends of her eyes curled upward oncemore. "That," she said, "was a break foryou. If I hadn't taken that walk, Td havebeen itching to get out every minute. Asit IS, I've kind of enjoyed it."

I had kind of enjoyed it too.

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