Welcome to Vintage Paparazzi.

Moving Day—Doris Day & Marty Melcher

We took Doris Day up on her dare and watched her move. It was a beautiful day—sunny, and there was, between Doris and her husband, Marty Melcher, much quipping about its being “D Day” as we drove over in their car to the new place. Surprisingly, it wasn’t loaded under by clothes and books and such. “Love those moving men!” laughed Doris. “They planned everything so well we didn’t have to take a thumbtack with us.”

“I can’t wait to see how much they’ve moved in,” Doris kept repeating to Marty. As the car swung into the driveway, the moving men were already unloading the vans. “Jeepers,” said Doris looking a little pale. “I hope they don’t drop the new guest-room beds.” She hopped out of the car and ran‘ after them.

“Nobody dropped nothin’,” she quipped.

Glassware, china and other items for the kitchen were unpacked first. And after Marty unwrapped his twentieth cup and saucer he looked beseechingly at Doris and said, “Wouldn’t it be easier if we used paper cups?”

And just when the kitchen began to be more ship-shape, Marty begged, “I’m hungry.” At 12:30 Mrs. Melcher was sitting on a packing case in the middle of the living room, munching a jelly sandwich.

“The plumbing whistles,” she suddenly said. “Did Marty tell you? No particular tune—and just when it feels like it.”

“A house with personality, yet,” Marty Melcher put in.

“Yes, and we loved it the very first time we clapped eyes on it,” Doris continued between munches. “We drove by once fourteen months ago when it was still a Spanish-type place, not the way we wanted it at all then. But we could ‘see’ into what it could be—our dream place.”

“So,” picked up Marty, “we bought it and remodeled ninety per cent—inside and out. Its location here in Beverly Hills is perfect. It’s near Doris’ studio and my office.”

“I’m not so practical,” Doris laughed. “What I love most about it, its always sunny. And the ice cream bar! It’s big enough to set up in competition with Wil Wright—right, Marty?”

Marty chuckled as he often does—constantly around Doris, it seems—as she went on. “We both love ice cream and since we don’t drink, it seemed sensible to be real squares and admit we’d rather have an ice cream bar than a hard-liquor one. And now I’ve got my own office-den, something I’ve been dying to have. It’s hi-fied all over and is painted white with grass-cloth material on the walls. Marty built my desk. He bought Swedish-modern chests of drawers and fashioned them into a ‘do-it-yourself’ desk But I’m jabbering too much. Up on your feet. There’s loads more to do.” By five p.m., with slave-driver Day’s help, the dream house was on the way to being set up and ready for business!



No Comments
Leave a Comment

Advertisment ad adsense adlogger