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    Under Hedda’s Hat

    Natalie Wood’s friends hope she is not pinning her hopes on getting Warren Beatty to the altar soon. Those close to him say he has absolutely no intention of getting tied down. Natalie’s been so busy trying to keep up with Warren that she hasn’t actually filed for divorce from Bob Wagner. But the property settlement—usually the toughest part of a Hollywood divorce—has been signed. Natalie and Warren took a crash course in French from a language expert who flew all the way to New York to give them lessons. Now they can say “we.” But when will he say, “I do?”

     

    Chubby Checker floored Hollywood (dance-floored, that is!) when he came here to twist. The rage is definitely on! Some of our best hostesses, who would have died at the thought two months ago, are throwing twist parties.



    Marilyn Monroe decorated the apartment she’s taken in California—all by herself. Be- fore it was completed she lived in hotels, except when Joe DiMaggio went out of town. Then she occupied his Beverly Hills pad. Her new West Coast home is more like a big room, the main feature of which is her king-sized bed. There is also a glass-enclosed patio. She decorated it like an Hawaiian lanai.

    Marilyn is one of the blondes Frank Sinatra seems to prefer these days; the other is Dorothy Provine. At a Mike Romanoff party I saw Sinatra putting a blonde into a car as I made my entrance. Smelling a story, I asked, “Who’s the dish?” “That’s no dish,” grinned Frankie. “That’s Dot.” Provine had arrived wearing a short dress, and when she saw all the other gals in formals she went home to change.



    Gardner McKay’s pals think he and Dolores Hawkins are secretly married. He’s given up all other girls, and recently took time off from his TV series to fly to Acapulco to join Dolores for a week’s vacation. Dolores doesn’t want to stop modeling—and why should she, she makes about $70,000 per year. That’s more than Gardner gets.



    Tuesday’s done some Welding. She kissed and made up with Gary Lockwood when she saw he meant business about calling quits to their big romance. When he left town on a personal appearance tour, Tuesday chauffeured him to the plane. She was on time—but he wasn’t, so she patiently waited outside his apartment. That’s a new twist for Tuesday, whose antics caused their short break-up.



    There was a lot of speculation as to whether May Britt’s career would end with her marriage to Sammy Davis, Jr. Evidently it didn’t. She’s had film offers, but has turned them down.

     

    The problem is she wants to be free to travel with Sammy. “We’ve been married a year and it’s not good, these constant separations. Look what happens. If both parties continue their careers, they never get to see each other. How can a marriage survive?” When Sammy told her they’d been offered “thousands of films” to do together, she said, “That’s fine. As long as there’s some time left for us to have another baby.” And now there’s talk in our town that May and Sammy are expecting again. If it’s true, May must be delighted.



    Rome got an earful when Liz Taylor fell with a bang at Caesar’s feet instead of rolling gently out of rug for a scene in “Cleopatra.” She let out with a remark that shook the set to the rafters and sent the staid British extras into loud gales of laughter. Romans got an eyeful, too, when Liz appeared on the Street in a black patent-leather helmet, shiny black leather pants, jacket and boots. Was she serious?



    Sandra Dee’s “Tammy” days are gone forever. In her first picture after the birth of the baby, Sandra is getting herself a glamour wardrobe complete with furs and jewels. U-I is really shelling out the loot to see that Sandy looks gorgeous.



    It’ll be the old-fashioned kind of true love if Dick Beymer’s romance with Dany Saval survives the test of time and separation. She isn’t divorced yet, and will have to file in Paris. This means she can’t marry until 1963. The visit she was scheduled to pay Dick in Hollywood was called off when she signed for a Shakespeare play in France. “We both agreed not to let love interfere with our careers,” says Dick wryly. “Now it looks as if it will be almost three months before I see her.” Meanwhile, she has his huge diamond ring to keep her warm.



    Bob Wagner and Marion Marshall, Stanley Donen’s ex, are having themselves a Roman fling that looks mighty serious.

     

    Photographers had a field day at a Thalian benefit when they caught Jayne Mansfield cuddling Harry Karl (above) and Debbie Reynolds kissing Dick Powell (below). But no rift rumors, please. It’s just that the Karls will do anything—almost! —for Debbie’s pet charity, The Thalians.

     

    Here and now I want to thank the Photoplay readers for the wonderful letters of welcome. I always enjoy hearing from readers—even when they don’t like what I write. I had a chance to meet many people when I was in New York before Christmas for three wonderful weeks. My friend Evelyn Sharp had a wonderful supper dance for me. Mary Martin came up from Philly for it, and even did The Twist! Rudy Vallee—a big hit on Broadway now—sang, as did Russell Nype.

     

    That marvelous Ray Bolger danced. Then the exclusive Lotus Club had a party for me. That doll Jackie Gleason sent over the biggest hat I’d even seen—five feet wide and two feet high—all covered with gorgeous yellow chrysanthemums. It was the hit of the party. Gleason loaned me his Rolls-Royce for a few nights, too. While in the Big City, I went to the premiere of Bob Hope’s “Bachelor in Paradise,” with Lucille Ball and Gary Morton. She had just gotten her engagement ring that afternoon, so Gary kept lighting matches in the darkened theater so she could look at it. It was a gorgeous ring with mounds of diamonds and a big pearl on top.



    Lucy’s lovely wedding to Gary lasted a short nine and one-half minutes. When the ceremony ended, there was a pregnant pause. Rev. Norman Vincent Peale, who performed the marriage, turned to the forty guests and said, “Allow me to introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Morton.” Everyone applauded. Lucy and Gary greeted all the guests, then we all left the Marble Collegiate Church for a champagne supper at Lucy’s apartment.

     

    There were 1,500 fans waiting outside to throw rice. Lucy and Gary looked as if they’d been through a snowstorm. When Lucy had left for the church, the doormat in front of her door was marked “B”—but when we returned, there was one marked “M”—someone had taken it from another apartment. Their honey- moon lasted forty-eight hours, then Gary returned to Palm Springs for an engagement, and Lucy remained in New York to rehearse a TV spectacular with Hank Fonda. The Mortons will honeymoon when both are free of commitments this month.



    Ann-Margret was crushed when she lost the lead opposite Elvis Presley in “Kid Galahad.” She’s been a Presley fan from the beginning, but 20th wouldn’t spring her for the job. However, her enthusiasm for Elvis caught the ear of Colonel Tom Parker and he’ll introduce them.

    When the Colonel was making the deal for Elvis to play the Century 21 Exposition in Seattle, he held out for a cool $250,000—that’s a quarter of a million dollars, son—for one week. The buyer finally agreed to the figure but nervously said, “Colonel, this show is outdoors. What do we do in case of rain?” Parker told him to read the contract—that there was a rain clause. The clause said, “In case of rain, Colonel Parker and Elvis reserve the right to sell their one-dollar plastic umbrellas.”



    Richard Chamberlain has all the girls flipping, but his pals have tagged him, “Mr. Shyness.” In Las Vegas, Keely Smith rolled those big eyes at him a couple of times, and young Dr. Kildare took off for home. And when friends try to line up dates, they run into trouble. Because for all Dick’s built-in girl-appeal, say “date” and he backs right out. The reason for that is Dorothy Whitney, the lovely stepdaughter of Raymond Massey.

     

    All’s well: Jacques Bergerac and Dorothy Malone are happy about their coming baby. And Soraya, after an innocent dance with Jacques, is now dating handsome George Hamilton.



    Reports from Rome have Stewart Granger about to marry two gals. First it was Duchess Mea AcQuarone (below) then it was actress Sylvia Koscina. Granger insisted Sylvia be in the film he’s directing in Rome and made sure she looked great on film. Who will he marry? I’m sure I don’t know.

     

    No one can find out who it is that Efrem Zimbalist, Jr. flies to Mexico City to see. He says he goes there to learn Spanish— but at a thousand bucks a trip, that’s a pretty costly way to learn a language. Methinks there’s another attraction. At any rate, Efrem and his wife Stephanie have finally called it a day. She’s playing the field.



    Talk about a marital mix-up! You couldn’t top this one with an electric eggbeater. Luciana Paluzzi jetted in from Italy and told her lawyers to ask for $2,000 a week alimony from Brett Halsey. He doesn’t make that much money. Not to be outdone, Mama Paluzzi, who held a “payment on demand” note from Brett, put in her demand, too. When Halsey asked for pictures of their baby, which he’s never seen, Luciana sent him some snapshots via her escort of the previous evening, Brett’s chum David Hedison.



    After Max Schell gave out that statement in Europe that he didn’t aim to marry anyone—including Nancy Kwan, I noticed that she began dating others. Nancy now admits, “There’s no marriage ahead for Max and me. Guess I’ve still got to find the right guy.” I could have told her that a long time ago. When I asked Schell about marriage, he grinned and said, “Why don’t you ask me when I’m going to commit suicide, Hedda?”



    Steve McQueen’s already set England back about two centuries with his racing car and the jeep he bought for wife Neile Adams. He took British tradition in his stride, except for one thing—the servants. “They make me nervous,” he said. “Every time one comes into a room, I feel like getting up.”

     

    Gloria Swanson, who was once the “femme fatale” of movie-land, is looking younger than herself these days. Gloria is now traveling, but we wish she would send us back her beauty secret.



    Pope, the perfect butler who worked for Bob Hope and Bing Crosby during their stay in Britain, treasures a letter of thanks he got from Kathy Crosby. He liked the job, but said the most difficult thing to get used to was breakfast. “They ordered steaks or lamb chops and kippers, with mustard or marmalade,” he revealed.

     

    That’s all the news for now. See you next month

     

    It is a quote. PHOTOPLAY MAGAZINE FEBRUARY 1962

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