Welcome to Vintage Paparazzi.

Nobody Told Her She Was A Star—Doris Day

When Doris Day and her husband Marty Melcher boarded the Super Chief for Chicago, en route to New York, it was with the distinct understanding that they were just ordinary passengers. “No autographs,” Doris had said firmly. “No special favors. No publicity. We’re on vacation. See?” The management of the Super Chief saw. In fact for twenty minutes after Doris boarded the train, the superintendent refrained from inviting them to dinner on the house. And for almost ten seconds the ever-hungry Marty refrained from accepting. Although the telegraph operators wired ahead to every station on the line that there were celebrities aboard, no one except porters, waiters, conductors, passengers and assorted fans gathered at the Melcher’s compartment door for autographs. And as to Doris Day, girl hermit, it was at least five minutes before she got lonesome in the peace and quiet she had requested and flung open the door of the compartment to the first fans, settled happily down to signing autographs and told Marty, “Gee. Isn’t it just awfully nice of everyone to make such a fuss?”

At every stop, kids gathered. Doris signed six dozen pictures, answered questions. One girl asked what they did on the train. “Not even Scrabble,” Doris laughed, “We’re just resting this trip.”

Doris posed for many snapshots with the train’s crew. She and Marty preferred the leisurely train ride to flying direct to their destination, New York. “We’re not in a hurry,” they agreed. “Why rush?”

Doris’ favorite fan reminded her of her son Terry, who, Doris told everyone proudly, was off to camp all by himself. She spent much time writing him postcards.

Breakfast, in the famous Harvey manner, consisted of ham and eggs, potatoes and steak! The Melchers ate in their compartment. At Chicago their car was transferred to the New York train.

“I think Marty and I never talked so little as during that breakfast,” Doris recalled later. “No, we hadn’t quarrelled; mostly we couldn’t take our eyes off the scenery. Indian country . . . so beautiful.”

At a station stop Doris bought on Indian bow and arrow for Terry. “Say,” she asked the Indian, “are these from Brooklyn?” “No,” said he, “but I am!”

But even on the train there was work. “At least,” Doris said, “it puts me to sleep!”



No Comments
Leave a Comment

Advertisment ad adsense adlogger