Happy Days Back Again in Hollywood

Parties and Luxuries Herald Good Times Back for Stars

By Edith Lindeman

I know that people have been saying a lot about the depression being over, and prosperity having been found lurking behind that famous corner--but I never really believed it until just a few weeks ago. Life seemed just about as difficult, and the pennies had to be squeezed just as hard, of course, I thought everyone was in the same fix--just being brave about it, or pretending not to care, or something like that. Now, I find, that the world is definitely a happier place to live in, and money is being spent gayly and foolishly once more and, in short, happy days are here again.

The barometer of the nation is beginning to register! Hollywood has started giving parties! Hollywood, which satisfied itself with dear little toasted sandwich suppers and hikes into the country, has gone back to the good old days of high-priced caterers and exhobitant entertainments. The famous Hollywood party that faltered and died about 1929 is making a triumphant return along with a wave of new prosperity that has flooded over the screen colony.

As Hollywood goes, so goes the nation's hostess! One wonders how many intended to follow the lead of Carole Lombard who took over an entire amusement pier last fall and turned her guests loose to enjoy the carnival equipment of the "Fun House." Or perhaps they may prefer to profit by the example of Kay Francis who, shortly before her departure for Europe last season, rented the hole of the Vendome restaurant, converted it into a ship's deck, and invited Hollywood's notables to make merry--which they did.

Six to Noon for Robinson's Breakfasts

Breakfast, usually the most cheerless of meals, has been given a new significance by Edward G. Robinson. When he stages one of his famous morning meals, he sets the hour anywhere from six in the morning till noon. Thus he is assured that not one of the invited guests will rufuse his invitation: those who have been at night clubs till the wee hours will drop in for a large glass of tomato juice and a cup of black coffee and melba toast before trotting off home to get a nap. Those who have to be on the set at 9 o'clock, come in at 8 for a sustaining meal of sausage and waffles, and those who are able to sleep late breeze up about 11:30 for a "brunch" of grapefruit, filet mignon and crepes suzette.

Dinner parties are no longer those informal, come-out-to-the kitchen affairs. You should get a glimpse of one of Carl Brisson's dinners. He maintains open house at all times for any visiting Scandinavian, and when he sits you down to a typical Danish meal, he starts you off with "smorrebrodsbrod," the Danish equivalent of hors d'oeuvres. Maybe you don't think that's so lavish, but when you realize that no good Dane serves less than 50 to 100 different tasty bits, you've an idea of what happens when Carl really gets going. It's true that the dainty morsels aren't very large, and if you question Mr. Brisson, he'll tell you in all seriousness that the Danes are not great eaters.

"We know that if there were but two or three dishes on the table we would eat too much," he will explain, "so instead we have lots of things to choose from, feast our eyes on them, and dine sparingly. Then when we sit down to a regular meal of two or more courses, the edge is taken off our appetites."

Be that as it may, Carl's banquets are one more sign of rising affluence in the movie colony. So famous is his table becoming that he is hard put to it to keep his pantry stocked. He orders 2,000 bottles of Danish Beer sent over from the old country at one time. He takes cheeses that weigh a hundred pounds and are 14 years old, and passes them out to his friends as if they were no more than cottage cheese whipped up from yesterday's sour milk. He has no rivals for the position of High Host of the Dinner Table, though Jean Parker, just returned from Europe, recently caused a stir with her 12 course menu made up of the choice recipes garnered from the various hotels and inns of England and France which she visited while on her tour.

Top Hats and Tails Rout Studio Togs

Oh yes, Hollywood is giving parties again, and what's more, it is dressing for the occasion. No longer do our leading actresses pop in for tea attired in slacks or studio make-up. Nor do the male members of the film colony's social set descent upon a swanky dinner dance, decked out in sweat shirt and grimy tennis togs. Top hats and tails, white ties and shiney shoes, immaculate gloves, a glistening stick and an alabaster shirt front, that's what Hollywood's little men are made of these days. As for the ladies, such an array of Renaissance colors and fabrics and richness and luxuriance!

Jean Harlow steps out in black velvet banded with ermine. Jeanette McDonald flings Grecian draperies around her slender form. Kitty Carlisle lays a cape of silver fox about her shoulders. Jean Muir slips into a gorgeous affair of Vatican purple velvet for dinner. Anita Louise looks like an angel, a shining silver one when she goes out to dine, and a soft sweet one when she dons a hostess gown of ivory chiffon and rare rose point lace. The lavishness that put 500 yards of material in one of Gladys Swarthout's movie costumes reflects itself in the gowns the stars buy for their own use.

The new presence of bigger and better salaries is being made evident in the building of dozens of new homes, or in the addition of new wings to the old residences. But that is almost the whole story in itself. It must be noted however, that the wild and freakish ideas that once took possession of Hollywood's architecture are not found in the houses being built these days. If a star has a predeliction toward cupolas or pink tiling, for instance, he keeps it to himself, or if he has an incurable urge toward self-expression, he is allowed to plan his own bath-room, nothing more. This is probably why you'll find an Irish green tile bath, with shamrock decorations, in Pat O'Brien's house.

Fatter Pay Checks Help Hobby Craze

Bathing appliances that would have made Nero turn green with envy are to be seen in the homes of all the screen stars. It remains for Dolores Del Rio to install an extra "Russian" bath in the grounds of her home place. Located just off the swimming pool, and near to the artificial beach where she takes her sun baths in the sand, this Russian affair combines all the features of steam bathing, hot air manipulating and the more orthodox methods of hot and cold baths and showers. An hour spent in the Russain bath house is a big event. Naturally when Miss Del Rio just wants to clean up a bit, she uses the elaborate private bath connected with her own master bedroom.

That the stars are once more able to indulge in their pet extravagances is proven when one sees the electrically controlled pipe organ that Nelson Eddy is having installed in his home. Or the collection of diamonds that Mae West is laying by. Or the strings of polo ponies that are being maintained by Spencer Tracy, or the dozens of pedigreed dogs that Charlie Ruggles takes prizes with. Bing Crosby, George Raft, Carole Lombard, Ben Nernie, are just a few who have gone in for the purchase of race horses. And it is estimated that the miniature railroad craze which has struck Hollywood has cost director, producers and male stars something like $530,000 for buildings and equipment.

The funny part about all this is that no matter how much they make nor how much they spend, almost every movie creature has a pet economy that he can't or won't throw off.

William Powell saves rubber bands, even as you and I, and Virginia Bruce has huge balls of twine rolled up to show how economical she is. Robert Montgomery shaves himself and Jean Harlow shampoos her own hair. Lionel Barrymore drives his own car, and Lewis Stone skippers his own yacht. Una Merkel makes her own clothes, Rosalind Russell hems all her own handkerchiefs, and May Robson has no secratary but answers her fan mail herself. Greta Garbo hasn't bought a new car in eight years, and Director Richard Boleslawski brings his own lunch to the studio.