“We Argue About This—”

Mr. and Mrs. Sid Luft

“Sid brings home dogs,” says Lynn Bari. “Frequently. All kinds. Usually very soiled and undernourished. It’s reached the point where, when I see him approaching with a new addition to the menagerie of the malnutritioned, I get all prepared not to speak either to Sid or the dog. They enter and proceed in meek silence to the kennels where an assortment of canine breeds consume our points, while we resort to fish, baked beans and canned meat. I maintain a stony silence up to the point where the new beast begins to poke at my leg with his nose, or tries to jump up to be petted—or just sits looking woeful, as if to say he is the only unloved dog in the whole world. The dog and Sid always look so wistful I just can’t stay mad. It ends up, of course, with my loving the beast as much as Sid does. Then just as I’m learning to love the dog, he deserts us. Bitterly we realize we’ve just been played for suckers, a stopover, a meal and bed for a night. But next day the process starts all over again.”

Mr. and Mrs. Craig Stevens

“Craig and I usually confine our political disagreements to our own home,” remarks Alexis Smith. “We learned a long while ago that you can never change anyone’s political convictions over the dinner table at a friend’s house. But the Stevenses, Mr. and Mrs., like to discuss current issues, political issues in particular, and although we agree on almost everything, there are a few odd pointy on which we differ.

“We have learned a little trick that solves the problem of ‘getting in too deep’ in this department. When our discussions reach the argument stage, either Craig or I always remember to abruptly change the subject. This is guaranteed to make you laugh, after which no argument is possible.

“ ‘Shall we dance?’—‘Have you read any good books lately?’—or ‘Let’s call up some friends and have a party,’ are good ways to change any subject. So far we’ve managed to keep our political views from hurling us into a pitched battle. We credit this subject-changing system to our success as non-combatants!”

Mr. and Mrs. Gregory Peck

“I believe anything is possible,” Greg announces. “At least I believe that anything is possible for my wife to accomplish. This occasionally results in my promising people that she will do things, without asking her first. This, in turn, is apt to cause argument. For instance, the other day on the set, several friends were crying about not being able to get any cigarettes. I immediately said, ‘Why, my wife can get us cigarettes easily.’ I promised everyone three or four packs of their favorite brands. It added up to about two cartons. I came home that night and said, ‘Darling, get me two cartons of cigarettes tomorrow, please. I have to take them to the set.’ This caused a mild dissension during which I pointed out that she had nothing to do all day but look for cigarettes—nothing to do but visit the ration boards to get things for the new baby, take care of the baby, supervise the house and look for a new place for us to live. Finally she agreed to try. She wound up with a couple of handfuls of brands no one ever heard of. ‘Whoever heard of such a thing?’ I demanded. ‘Anyone can buy cigarettes!’ She smiled that sweet smile of hers and said, ‘I’m sure you could get them, Greg. But I did my best.’ I went out to show her how easy it was. In an hour I returned sheepishly, without even one package. But, still, secretly, I can’t understand her inability to get them. I think there’s nothing she can’t do!”

Mr. and Mrs. Dana Andrews

“A psychiatrist might be able to explain my absolute rebellion against being told what to do,” Dana reports. “I’ve never been able to understand it, but it’s there. The minute anyone says ‘do this, Dana’—I balk like a mule. If we’re driving down Wilshire and my wife says, ‘Why don’t we turn over and go down Sunset so we can look at the shops,’ I immediately do just the opposite—even though I might have intended going down Sunset originally. It’s one of those little idiosyncracies you just can’t rationalize.

“For awhile this stubbornness of mine probably was a source of irritation to my wife. But I picked a girl with the most wonderful sense of humor in the world. And she knew just the proper cure for this sort of thing.

“I’d be driving along, put out my hand to turn left down Vine Street, and when she’d see that, she’d say, ‘Why don’t you turn down Vine Street, Dana—?’ For a few times I bit beautifully, gunned the car and went on by without turning. Then I looked at her once when she made the suggestion. Her eyes were twinkling, and her laughter was just about to bubble out all over her face. And I tumbled to the fact that I was being beautifully ribbed. I couldn’t help laughing, and then she laughed, too. That’s a sure cure for any argument no matter how large. I’ve begun to get over this reaction of mine, because I’m never sure when I’m being ribbed.”

Mr. and Mrs. Harry James

“Harry and I agree on practically everything—now,” states Betty Grable. “But when we first married there was one little argument that kept cropping up whenever we began to get dressed to go out for a big evening.

“You see, the bone of contention in our life was ‘how my hair should be done.’ I was in the very extreme pompadour stage when Harry and I were married, and I saw no reason to change my hair-do with my name. However, Harry soon made himself heard on the subject. He likes it quite plain, parted in the middle or on the side and combed back loosely, not done up fancy. I was always spending a lot of time in front of the mirror rolling’ it over ‘rats,’ upsweeping it from my face, building up the front so I’d have the highest pompadour in town. I’d think I looked pretty sharp, and all I’d get from Harry was a frown of disapproval. He thought it made me look older and too sophisticated.

“The problem was finally solved by Harry’s methodically going through my dresser, picking up all hair pads and ‘rats’ and tossing them out into the trash. I finally gave in. Now, to please him—except in pictures when I have to wear it up—I wear my hair down and plain. The baby seems to like it better that way, too—she can get her fingers into it and pull.”

 

It is a quote. PHOTOPLAY MAGAZINE JULY 1945