Gone With The Wind, Indeed!

Photoplay, March 1937
by Kirtley Baskette

Call out the riot squad! A new Civil War is raging! Who will play the principals in the world's best seller?

Time was when you could call a man a rat in Hollywood and get yourself a stiff poke in the nose. But now what you get is— "Rhett? Rhett Butler? Well— I don't know about that 'profile like an old coin' stuff, but I've been told I am rather masterful, and— "

Yes, and there was a day when you could call a woman scarlet in this town and find yourself looking into the business end of a male relative's shotgun. But now it's—"Scarlett? Scarlett O'Hara? Oh, do you really think so? Well, I wish you'd say that around Mr. Selznick. Of course, my eyes aren't exactly green, but unless they use Technicolor—”

Ever since that very small but very un-Reconstructed Rebel, Mistress Peggy Mitchell, of the Atlanta Mitchells, wrote a book called "Gone With the Wind," which went like a seventy mile gale over the country and whipped up a grade-A tornado, a civil war, the like of which Jeff Davis never dreamed, has been raging uncontrolled way out in Hollywood.

Houses are divided, brother against brother, husband against wife, butler versus pantry maid.

"Why, Judge," a woman told the court the other day, "this bum says the only man to play Rhett Butler is Warren William. How can I go on living with a cretin like that?"

"Yeah," countered the defendant, "and, Your Honor, she embarrassed me before my friends plugging for Ronald Colman. Ronald Colman—imagine! My business dropped off."

"Divorce granted," murmured the court, "although personally I've always thought Gary Cooper would be a natural for the part."

What is considerably worse, actors and actresses who have never been South of the Slot in San Francisco or below Twenty-third Street in Manhattan, whose closest tie to Dixie in fact, is a faint resemblance to Virginia ham, wander around calling people "Honey" in a languid, molasses manner. Mugs who always thought Pickett's charge was a labor demonstration, now demand real mint in their grog. Even the high yellows down on Central Avenue are brushing up on their southern accents.

It's really pretty awful. Of course if you haven't read the astounding book that has leaped clear out of the ordinary fiction league to become the marvel of modern American literature, all this may leave you as dizzy as a six-day bicycle rider. In that case, all I can say is that if you're around number sixty-seven on the waiting list and sound of wind and limb there is still hope.

But if you have, you'll understand why nerves are snapping from Burbank to Brentwood as the two juiciest parts in the history of Hollywood dangle like ripe luscious cherries just above tiptoe reach. For "Gone With the Wind" is all set to be made into the greatest moving picture of all time (they admit it). Only there isn't any Scarlett O'Hara. There isn't any Rhett Butler. The suspense is terrific.

Furthermore, the curious effect of this book, which now hovers around the million sales mark, is that the minute a gentle reader closes the back cover with the wistful hope that Scarlett will get another crack at Rhett someday, a crusading, militant, in fact belligerent one-man casting department is born. Yes Ma'am, and with a lusty squall.

So look what happens. Sixty thousand letters, wires, communications of all sorts, sent direct or forwarded by critics, columnists and radio commentators have poured in and keep pouring in to sweep the excitement higher and higher. The result is the biggest screen sweepstakes of modern movie history. The prize: fame, fortune and the greatest eager, ready-made audience any star ever dreamed about.

Who will win? Well— here are the favorites, complete with clockings, handicaps, and pole positions.

You pays your money and you takes your choice:

Ladies first, which means Rhett Butler—

Clark Gable is the odds on favorite. He probably will play the part. If he doesn't there may be a Revolution. The nation-wide choice, by a wide margin, he runs neck-and neck with Warner Baxter in the South, which, incidentally, will have plenty to say about the casting of this picture. Gable is also the big Hollywood favorite, although if you can't see him you can't see him at all. It's that way. Letters have poured in threatening boycotts and reprisals (honest) if he's cast as Rhett. The same if he isn't.

Clark is the right age, the perfect build, the effective sex quotient. On a very touchy point— whether or not he can put on a southern accent and wear it becomingly— he is doubtful. He would give a year of his life to play Rhett— why not? It would be the biggest monkey gland his career could conceivably manage.

But— Gable is among the most jealously hoarded of M-G-M stars. And Selznick International, not
M-G-M, copped this prize story of the century. M-G-M turned it down! Selznick International means John Hay Whitney and David Oliver Selznick. But again— David Oliver Selznick is married to Louis B. Mayer's daughter. Would Gable be available? What do you think?

Fredric March is the only actor so far officially tested for Rhett. Was the early choice, but seems to have faded in the back stretch. Would be available, eager and willing to play Rhett on a moment's notice. Runs about third in the terrific straw balloting which increases every day. Is regarded by millions as a great actor— many others do not agree. Played the other great sensational best seller title part, "Anthony Adverse." Consensus of opinion is that Fredric would be an adequate Rhett but that's all. Lacks the sinister sex considered absolutely essential to a great performance.

Warner Baxter has surprising support from Atlanta and the deep South. Is the best "sympathy" actor in the race. His recent sock hit in "To Mary—With Love" is considered an apt build-up. Warner has the strong support of all who picture Rhett Butler as a man who suffered and suffered. Is keeping his fingers crossed day and night because if he landed it would be "In Old Arizona" all over again for him. His contract, of course, is with Twentieth Century-Fox, which makes him eligible. Darryl Zanuck, who is a borrower of stars in the talent market, wouldn't dare bite the hand that feeds him and keep him locked up in the closet. Warner, too, is about the right age, a little on the oldish side. His weakness, too, is no powerful sex appeal.

Ronald Colman popped into the running through an erroneous press dispatch. But once in has remained a strong contender. Chief advantage is his spot as long term contract star with Selznick International, his decided romantic charm, suavity, age and sympathetic personality. Chief disadvantage his ever-lovin' britishness, hard for the folks down South to swallow when the story is almost a sectional issue.

Those are the favorites. But Cary Grant, Basil Rathbone, Edward Arnold haven't given up yet.

Now gents—it's your turn. For Scarlett O'Hara—

Tallulah Bankhead—shared the same bum steer announcement that brought Ronald Colman in. Was tested by Selznick twice, once in Hollywood while on the stage in "Reflected Glory." It was a simple color test but it gave the news-hawks ideas. Tested again in New York by Director George Cukor. Is a professional choice, being considered the best actress of all the candidates. Would satisfy Dixie, hailing originally from Alabama. Her pappy represents that state as Speaker of the House of Representatives in Washington. Talu could probably recapture a sugar-lipped drawl, all right, but the years and an aura of sophistication are against her. The part would be like long delayed manna from Heaven for her, bestowing the great screen break her rooters have long wailed has been denied a great artiste. Only a luke warm choice in the popular response. But vigorously opposed by an opinionated minority.

Miriam Hopkins is the red hot choice of Atlanta and the South. Leads other actresses by a nice margin in the letter deluge. One reason, she hails from Bainbridge, Georgia, right close to home. Is a good subject for color, if it is used, except that she'll have to wear a wig. Played Becky Sharp, the character generally compared with Scarlett O'Hara, but that might work against her.

BETTE DAVIS is the number one Hollywood selection. Just missed cinching the part by a matter of minutes. On her way to England, Bette was told by Warner's New York story board they were buying a great story for her, "Gone With the Wind." But by the time they wired Hollywood for an okay, the hammer had dropped. The day His Majesty's courts decided that Bette was a "naughty girl" and "must go back to jail" her low spirits were lifted by a columnist's clipping calling her the ideal Miss O'Hara. Answers to Scarlett now around the Warner lot. Bette is the only Yankee girl to score below that well-known line. Ranks third in the Cotton Belt. Is considered to be just the right age to handle the assignment and blessed with the right amount of— er— nastiness. No complaints from the home folks on her southern accent in "Cabin in the Cotton" or as Alabama Follansbee in "The Solid South" (stage).

But— Bette is in the doghouse, chained and collared, and one of the main issues of her legal whipping was her loan out demand. Warner’s can- probably would- keep her in the cooler. Selznick, in fact, is supposed to have said, "Bette Davis? Great— but could we get her?"

Margaret Sullavan holds second spot in returns from down yonder. Is a Virginia girl, and knows what to do when a lady meets a gentleman down South. Handled brilliantly the lead in "So Red the Rose," another Civil War picture. Fractious and fiery enough to make Scarlett a vivid character. Tagged next to Bette Davis in Hollywood.

And the Field— Katharine Hepburn, Claudette Colbert and Jean Harlow.

Now as if puzzling about all this were not enough to set a body weaving baskets in the clink, Messrs. Selznick and Company announce that they want, for Scarlett and Rhett, not Hollywood stars at all. No— instead they have arranged to canvass all the finishing schools of Dixie, and ogle Junior Leaguers at very lovely teas and discover an "unknown"Scarlett. A similar search, minus the tea, is hoped to dig up an indigenous Rhett.

Thus, they say, everything will not only be peaches and cream for professional Southerners, but what is much more important, two brand new stars will be born. Why take other studio's stars and build 'em? Isn't this going to be the greatest picture of all time?

Well— as to the first idea— it's great if it works, is the opinion of the Hollywood wise ones. But it won't work, they say. Whom are you going to find in the sticks to handle parts like those? Whom could you dare gamble on?

And that "greatest picture of all time" stuff? It smacks strongly, I grant you, of the old mahoskus. It's press agent oil of the most ready' viscosity and has flowed freely around every epic from "The Great Train Robbery" to Shirley Temple's latest cutrick. But this time the answer that snaps right back out of your own skeptic brain is, "Why not?"

These gentlemen— Whitney and Selznick —  have, and they know they have, the greatest screen story of our day. If you don't think so, here's the cold cash proof: The day after they laid $50,000 on the line for the picture rights, another studio offered them $100,000. The next offer was boosted to $250,000. The last bid, not long ago, was $1,500,000 and an interest in the picture besides! Tie that.

They said "No" and they are still saying the same. Mr. Whitney and Mr. Selznick are not ribbon clerks. They shot $2,200,00 on "The Garden of Allah." They will pinch no pennies on "Gone With the Wind." If color will help it (and it probably will) they'll shoot an extra million. Sidney Howard is writing the script. George Cukor will direct. Walter Plunkett is designing costumes. These men are all top flight.

So you can be reasonably sure of this— when you finally you see "Gone With the Wind" you'll see a picture dressed in the best trappings of modern production, primed with meticulous preparation, artistic thoroughness and as many millions as it can comfortably stand.

But as for who will be Scarlett and who will be Rhett— well, the riot squads are doing a nice business, thank you. And good citizens of Hollywood scowl across Cahuenga Pass at North Hollywood muttering "Dam' Yanks!" While out in Beverly Hills the South Side of the Tracks is threatening to secede if somebody will only fire on the Brown Derby.

It looks as if we'll fight it out on this line if it takes all summer. Everybody's welcome, and usually it doesn't require a second invitation. Just casually mention the subject. You'll see. Matter of fact, the only person I can think of off-hand who doesn't seem to be at all upset about the matter is the lady who wrote the book.

Early in the fray, Margaret Mitchell allowed it would be nice if a Southern girl could play Scarlett. But the reaction was so violent that it must have surprised her. At any rate she announced the other day it was her one desire to remain only as the humble author, and to a close friend she confided:

"I don't care what they do to 'Gone With the Wind' in Hollywood. Just so they don't make General Lee win the war for a happy ending!"

30 Things You May Not Know About Gone With The Wind

1. Four out of the five main cast members died in their fifites: Vivien Leigh (Scarlett) passed away at the age of 53; Clark Gable (Rhett) at 59; Leslie Howard (Ashley) at 50; and Hattie McDaniel (Mammy) at 57. Olivia de Havilland (Melanie) is still living. She currently resides in Paris, France.

Olivia de Havilland as Melanie Wilkes

2. Three directors worked on the film: George Cukor, Victor Fleming and Sam Wood. Only Victor Fleming received credit and the Oscar for Best Director.

3. The opening scene of Gone with the Wind was ultimately filmed five times. After the first time it was filmed, Selznick decided the Tarleton twins' hair was too orangey, so he had it re-shot. Then it was filmed again when Victor Fleming replaced George Cukor. Vivien Leigh looked too tired in another scene. And lastly, it was shot again, when according to Fred Crane, the etiquette expert Susan Myrick, said that no southern girl would show her bosom so early in the day, which is when they decided Vivien should wear the white, prayer dress.

Vivien Leigh as Scarlett with the Tarleton Twins, played by Fred Crane and George Reeves, in one of the deleted scenes.

4. The first scene filmed was the burning of Atlanta, which was actually the burning of other movie sets on the backlot named Forty Acres, including the King Kong set.

5. After the barbecue at Twelve Oaks, there is a scene in which all the men are gathered together discussing war. This is the only scene in the movie in which all of Scarlett's future husbands (Charles Hamilton, Frank Kennedy and Rhett Butler) appear together.

6. According to Frank Buckingham, Clark Gable would sometimes eat garlic before his kissing scenes with Vivien Leigh. Buckingham was a film technician who worked for Alexander Korda. Korda sent him to observe the making of Gone With The Wind.

Clark Gable as Rhett and Vivien Leigh as Scarlett

7. The scene in which Scarlett gives Ashley a sash for his uniform, while he's home on Christmas leave, is the last scene that George Cukor directed.

Vivien Leigh and Leslie Howard

8. Gone With The Wind is the only movie Alicia Rhett, who played India Wilkes, ever made. Originally, she read for the part of Melanie, but George Cukor didn't think she had enough acting experince to play Melanie, so he assigned her the part of India.

9. Alicia Rhett was an artist and sketched her co-stars during breaks while filming. Later in life, she painted a portrait of Alexandra Ripley, who went on to author Scarlett, the sequel to Gone With The Wind.

Alicia Rhett (India Wilkes) sketches Ann Rutherford (Carreen) while Evelyn Keyes (Suellen) looks on.

10. Vivien Leigh decided she'd be the one to play Scarlett, long before she arrived in Hollywood and auditioned. 'A curious incident was noted by film critic C.A. Lejeune, who had accompanied the cast [21 Days Together] on the last day of shooting down the Thames to Southend on a steamer. It had been raining and during the long wait between shots talk had turned to MGM's plan to make a movie of the current best-seller in America, Gone With The Wind. Someone suggested that Olivier would make the ideal Rhett Butler. "Larry won't play Rhett Butler," was Vivien's prophetic comment, "but I shall play Scarlett O'Hara, wait and see." '- Love Scene, by Jesse Lasky, Jr

11. David O. Selznick wanted Tallulah Bankhead to play Belle Watling. He also used Mae West's name in regard to the role as a publicity stunt. Selznick's final choice for Belle was Ona Munson.

Clark Gable and Ona Munson

12. Gone With The Wind marked the second time Thomas Mitchell and Barbara O'Neil (aka Mr. and Mrs. O'Hara) played a married couple. They'd previously played husband and wife in "Love, Honor and Behave."

Thomas Mitchell as Gerald O'Hara and Barbara O'Neil as Ellen O'Hara

13. Barbara O'Neil, Scarlett's mother Ellen, was only three years older than Vivien Leigh. Ms. O'Neil was born in 1910 and Vivien was born in 1913.

14. Hattie McDaniel's father, Henry, had been born into slavery and was a Civil War veteran. Hattie won the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress for her role as Mammy in 1940.

Hattie McDaniel as Mammy

15. Thomas Mitchell did not receive an Oscar nomination for Gone With The Wind. However, he was nominated for Stagecoach and won for Best Supporting Actor in 1940.

Oscar Night, 1940: Spencer Tracy, Vivien Leigh with her Oscar for Scarlett, Thomas Mitchell and Fay Bainter

16. Tomorrow is Another Day was one of the book's titles before being changed to Gone With The Wind.

17. The book's title, Gone With The Wind, was taken from a line in the poem Cynara, by Ernest Dowson. The poem is about obsession for a lost love.

18. Scarlett's name was originally Pansy.

19. There was serious talk from the studio about changing Vivien Leigh's name to Virginia Lee, so she'd sound more like a Southern girl instead of the British girl she was, and be more acceptable to the public.

20. Vivien Leigh went through 28 different hairdos as Scarlett O'Hara. Here are just a few examples of her hairstyles:

21. Walter Plunkett, costume designer, created over 5,000 pieces of clothing for Gone With The Wind.

22. F. Scott Fitzgerald worked on the movie's script.

23. Gone With The Wind premiered first in Atlanta, on December 15, 1939, followed by premieres in New York and Hollywood. Leslie Howard didn't attend the Atlanta premiere as he'd returned to England due to the outbreak of WWII. Hattie McDaniel wasn't allowed to attend due to segregation laws.

Vivien Leigh, Clark Gable, Margaret Mitchell, David O. Selznick and Olivia de Havilland in Atlanta

24. Vivien Leigh didn't attend the New York premiere on December 19, 1939. Instead, she and Laurence Olivier skedaddled off together for some private time.

25. When asked by a newspaperman, in 1937, how he felt about playing Ashley Wilkes, Leslie Howard looked slightly puzzled and quizzically responded, Ashley who-did-you-say? Well, -er, excuse me, but who in the deuce is he? Howard had been so busy with his production of Hamlet that he hadn't heard about Gone With The Wind or the poll that ranked him as top choice for Ashley. Howard never did read the book.

Vivien Leigh and Leslie Howard in the Paddock scene

26. Vivien Leigh, Leslie Howard and Olivia de Havilland were British. Howard was born in England; Vivien was born in India to British parents; and Olivia was born in Japan, also to British parents.

27. Margaret Mitchell won the Pulitzer Prize for Gone With the Wind.  "... [she] received news of the prize by phone, along with multiple requests for interviews. Hating publicity, she fled to a gospel concert at a small black church in Atlanta with her husband John Marsh, her publisher Harold Latham and her black housekeeper Bessie Jordan. The press scoured the city but never found her. It was a glorious night for Margaret Mitchell." -Margaret Mitchell: American Rebel

28. Special lighting was used to make Vivien Leigh's gray-green eyes appear a solid green to match the description of Scarlett's eye color.

Vivien Leigh as Scarlett O'Hara

29. After the raid on Shantytown, and the death of Frank Kennedy, Rhett brings home a "drunk" Ashley from Belle Watling's. This is the only scene the four main characters (Scarlett, Melanie, Ashley and Rhett) share.

Ashley, Melanie, Rhett and Scarlett

30. Thomas Mitchell, who played Scarlett's father Gerald, was only about nine months older than Leslie Howard, who played Scarlett's love interest Ashley. Mitchell was born in 1892 and Howard was born in 1893.


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Will Clark Gable Ever Marry Carole Lombard?

by Ford Black

Motion Picture Magazine
February 1939

One thing is sure, Clark and Carole are madly in love, but your guess is as good as Hollywood’s whether they’ll marry.
 
The odds in Hollywood, where you can get a bet from the wise guys on practically anything at all, are about fifty-fifty that IF Jane Peters ever marries The Moose, it'll be the beginning of the bust-up of the grandest, finest romance Hollywood has ever known—off or on screen…!

"You'll notice I've got that "IF" in capitals. Because the same wise guys will give you about ten to one that that "IF" never becomes "when."

You see, Jane Peters is Carole Lombard. That's her real name; Carole Lombard is just something a numerologist gave her. And The Moose is her pet name for Clark Gable, the guy she’s in love with, and vice-versa. That is, she calls him “The Moose” when she’s talking about him, with others. When she talks with him, she just calls him “Poppy.” And he calls her “Ma.”

That’s how it is with Clark and the Lombard. That’s how it’s been for more months than cynical Hollywood ever believed it possible for two people to be as deliriously, insanely, happily, head-over-heels in love with each other in movieland.

But before they can ever get married, there’s quite a bit of technicality in the way, The matter of Clark’s being divorced from or by Rhea Gable, the lady to whom he’s still married.

A great number of people, in and out of Hollywood, have been wondering when Rhea Gable will ever give Clark a divorce. You’ve probably read innumerable items and rumors in the gossip columns about it. There’s probably been more baseless twaddle written about Clark's marital status than about anybody else's in Hollywood—even Georgie Raft's.

But recently, I learned, from one of those pretty accurate and trustworthy sources, that only the other day, Rhea Gable, growing annoyed and consequently articulate about the constant reiteration of question-marks about when she'd ever divorce Clark, replied: "But he's never even asked me to!"

And that quite effectually shut up the interrogation, for the time being at least. As a matter of fact, the real low-downers of Hollywood are convinced that there'll never be a Rhea-Clark divorce. They feel, although the principals never openly discuss the matter, that Clark and Carole both feel that the situation is quite all right as it stands. Hollywood has its own table of ethics about things like this—a set of rules and taboos that are governed to a large extent by such things as publicity and the so-called "hinterland reaction." Hollywood fears, above all else, the wrath of millions of moviegoers whose moral sensibilities are assumed to be as fragile as gold-leaf, and as pure. There is justification, says that part of Hollywood which treads lightly, for an assumption that if Clark Gable should be divorced from Rhea Gable, and then leap headlong into an immediate remarriage with Carole Lombard, that the box-office status of both Gable and the Lombard would suffer a deep pain in the intake.

 

And what Hollywood can't stand at all is a drop in box-office rating.

So, since the world of movie fans apparently takes it for granted, and quite all right, too, that Clark is not in love with his wife, but is in love with Carole, the two of them seem content to let it lie at that, and why change the situation?

There has, in the past, been terrific studio pressure to "kill" all publicity linking the Lombard and Gable names. It was a policy in line with that fear of the hinterland reaction. But of late, we in Hollywood who make our living by writing about it have noticed that from the two studios concerned—Carole's Paramount and Clark's M-G-M—there has been a gradual but definite lightening of the taboo.

Both studios may just as well be—because Clark and Carole themselves aren't bothering with even a semblance of hide up! You'll see them go careening down Ventura Boulevard in that dusty station wagon of theirs, both of them togged in dirty old overalls and farm clothes, laughing like a couple of high-school sophomores. They're probably on their way back to town after an afternoon of bulldogging and steer-tossing on the San Fernando valley ranch of either of 'em —both Carole and Clark have ranches out there, and are nuts about roping cattle.

Or you'll see them at the niteries, as obviously and utterly in love with each other as a couple of newlyweds. Their birthday gag-gifts to each other are famous. As a matter of fact, Hollywood never thinks of either of them without the other. They're as inseparable as ham-and-eggs. Many a married couple of Hollywood aren't as irrevocably linked in Hollywood hostesses' minds as are the Lombard and the Gable. In Hollywood, you wouldn't think of inviting one without the other.

AND that's as it should be, if you skip Victorian conventions and get down to the real "savvy" of the situation. They ARE in love. They're grand for each other. I believe that Carole Lombard has done more, in a material and spiritual way both, for Clark Gable than all the rest of his life added up. She has certainly done more to make life worth the living for him than any of his other associations. I mean, she's brought him the real fun and joy of living —a thing that Clark, in all his previous striving and seeking, has never found before. True, he was married twice—the first time to Josephine Dillon, some years older than himself, who taught him a lot about voice control and diction and stage deportment, because that's her business. The second time (and still) to Rhea Langham, the society woman, years older than himself, again. Rhea dazzled him, and gave him a taste of how things are done in the upper tiers of social life. But she didn't bring him sheer, downright fun. Neither of those women, admirable as they are in their spheres of life, brought him the fun that fun-loving Carole Lombard did. Carole is an ex-Mack Sennett girl. She has no social aspirations, yet she is one of Hollywood's most sought after guests. She has no exalted ideas about histrionics, yet she is one of Hollywood's top box-office stars. Carole, therefore, can and does give Clark the social status Rhea gave, and the theatrical standing and help Josephine gave—but in addition, she also gives a whole-hearted comradeship and good-fellowship.

Carole is a man's girl. Clark is a man's man. He's no society butterfly; he'd rather wear dungarees or hunting-khaki than tails and an opera hat. He'd rather engage in some utterly, hilarious and often unmentionable bits of clowning, on the rabelaisian side, than take part in a la-de-da cocktail fight at Mme. de la Ritz's society soiree. And when it comes to joining him in the low-down gaggin', Carole's his girl. Just the other day, you maybe read about how she ribbed him because of the dance steps he's having to learn for his newest picture…

So shamefaced is Clark about having to learn to do pretty dance steps that he has kept the stage barred to all visitors. He's as embarrassed as a man in a lingerie shop. So what does Carole do? She gives a box to a friend of hers in the M-G-M publicity department, knowing that said friend can crash the closed doors on the Gable set.

"Give this to Clark," she says. The friend enters the strictly closed set. Clark sees him coming and smells the gag. "You blankety-blank-blank," he yells; "it's a RIB!"

It is! Clark opens the box, and finds that Carole has sent him a ballet skirt, embroidered with his own initials; and a pair of ballet slippers, pink, size 11. AND— a dozen pansies...!

I COULD tell you a lot of gags Clark played on her, too. But I won't. Because they're the downright lowdown humor kind that good fellows play on each other, and they don't take repeating. They're always clowning; always playing. Clark taught her how to shoot, and now they go skeet-shooting together, and now and then on hunting trips. She gave him two of the finest guns that could be bought—and that sort of shooting-ware costs in the high hundreds. She gives him other things. When she isn't working herself she spends much of her time on the sidelines, as Clark works. She gives him help, coaches him from her own innate sense of stagecraft. She rehearses his lines with him.

She is believed responsible, too, for a growing carefulness about the roles he plays; the pictures he works in. Clark used to play anything, do any "business" and speak any lines the studio gave him. That was all right, when he was on the upgrade and had laid his future in M-G-M's hands. But now he's a star, now it's his own care and lookout to protect the position he has attained as the No. 1 male star of the screen.

And recently, he has been decidedly careful and critical about his roles. He won't go ahead on a picture any more until he is completely satisfied with story, script, role, lines, business. He held up production on both Test Pilot and Too Hot to Handle until the scripts were revised to suit his ideas. And, insiders believe, to suit Carole's ideas of what her man should play. In fact, it's pretty generally accepted that Carole is Clark's professional mentor far and away beyond what appears on the surface.

She's doing fine for him, too. Clark is still at the top. He's drawing some $7,000 a week. He has developed a sense of humor and likability that wasn't his before Carole. True, he was always a pleasant, personable chap. But there was a hard-to-knowness about him; a shell of reserve; a lack of warmness in his contacts. Since Carole, that shell has vanished.

Nobody calls him "Mister Gable" any more. He's just "Hey, Clark!" to everybody, from the lowliest messenger-boy on the lot to Louis B., himself.

There was a time when the wise ones feared he would go Hollywood; that was at the beginning of his meteoric rise. Maybe he would have; it's tough to escape it. Hollywood thanks Carole for steering him around the menace.

True, he has his shoes made, specially, in London. True, he has the finest tailors in America cut his clothes. But that is business, isn't it? Outside of business, he puts on no "big" act. With Carole, he goes to neighborhood movies rather than snooty operas or symphonies. That ranch of his, that you read so much about—why, it's only a two-acre spot in San Fernando Valley; much smaller than many a lesser movie name boasts. And don't get excited about the screwy stories you may read of how magnificent it is. He doesn't even own it— he leases it from Rex Ingram.

He has no valet. I know a lot of $300-a week hams in Hollywood who have'em, but not Clark. He has only two servants— a cook and a housekeeper.

Reason he doesn't own his place is because (he says this himself) he wants no ties to hold him in case he ever decides to cut loose and move.

HE HAS no illusions about himself, nowadays. I remember there was a time, in the dim past, when he imagined he was a pretty fine actor. But something probably Carole, again—has knocked that out of him. Like Carole's own opinion of herself as an actress, Clark now admits he's "just lucky."

 

That goes not alone for his screen success, but for his offscreen life's livability, as well. Clark knows that it's given to few individuals to achieve the all-around happiness that is his today—an assured place in his chosen profession; a steady and big income; freedom from worries and entanglements; and a beautiful woman to love him.

He knows he's lucky; it isn't just a bit of phony modesty with him when he says "I'm just a lucky stiff!"

He knows it won't always last. He's looking forward to the time when there won't be seven grand a week in the pay envelope. He's being frugal, without being miserly. He doesn't put on any costly "dog."

He lives economically; doesn't throw his money around. Banks what he can of it, after the government takes it share. When the time comes, as it inevitably will, for him to abdicate his screen throne, he'll have a nice sockful of living-money.

He thinks he'll maybe do directing, or script writing, when that time comes. Or he may just retire. His idea of heaven on earth would be to have enough money to live comfortably and quietly—go hunting often—travel a bit—and have fun.

Preferably with Jane Peters.