Janet Hardy in Hollywood

Chapter XVII

ON THE WESTBOUND PLANE

The week following graduation was a hectic one for Janet and Helen. There were the riding lessons each day, their wardrobes to be gone over, new shoes and hose to be purchased and they finally decided that each of them needed at least two new dresses to last until they could get into the shops in Hollywood and select things they desired there. It was fortunate that Janet’s father was a successful lawyer and Helen’s a famous director or their personal pocketbooks would have been much thinner at the end of the shopping expeditions.

Neither Janet nor Helen told their friends of their plans, but somehow the story got around that they were going to Hollywood and had already signed for rôles in a new picture. Some said they were to have parts in Henry Thorne’s next production while others claimed the girls were going to be bathing beauties in a series of comedies.

“Now wouldn’t that make you boil,” said Helen, as she related a conversation between Cora Dean and Margie Blake which she had overheard. “I was half way minded to step in and tell them the truth, but then I realized that was just what they wanted.”

They were sitting on the Hardy’s front porch and the telephone summoned Janet inside. She called Helen to her a few seconds later.

“It’s Pete Benda of the Times. He says he’s heard the story and if we won’t confirm it he will print all of the rumors going the rounds, including the one that we’re going to be bathing beauties. What shall I tell him?”

“Tell him we’re going to Hollywood with Dad for a vacation and if we get in any pictures we’ll send him an autographed picture,” suggested Helen, which Janet promptly did.

“Pete isn’t satisfied, but I guess he won’t print all of the rumors,” reported Janet as she hung up the telephone.

“You can just bet that Cora and Margie ran up to the Times office and filled Pete full of hot air,” said Helen. “I thought maybe after we were out of high school things would be different. I’d like to be friendly with them for they can be delightful when they want to be, but both of them are still carrying a chip on their shoulders.”

There was only one more afternoon of fishing and loafing along the banks of the creek and John Hardy went with Janet, Helen and Henry Thorne on the outing. Their luck was with them again and they hooked a fine mess of catfish and fried them over an open fire. Through the late afternoon Janet and Helen talked incessantly of their hopes and plans while at a distance their fathers dozed along the creek bank.

It was dusk before they started home, walking slowly through the twilight.

“This is the last night at home,” Janet’s father reminded her. “Tomorrow night we go to Rubio and you take the west-bound plane for Hollywood.”

“It hardly seems possible, but it must be so,” said Janet. “Everything is like a dream.”

“It will be until you actually arrive and start work in the studio.” Janet’s father was silent for several minutes. When he spoke again his voice was so low that it could not be overheard by Helen and her father, who were walking a short distance ahead.

“I’m not expecting you to turn into a motion picture actress, but I want you to do your best out there. The change will be a fine vacation and when you’re actually on the lot working before the cameras, give it everything you’ve got. That will add to the pleasure you’ll have in later years when you look back on this summer.”

“I’ll do it, Dad. I’ll do the best possible job.”

“Sure, I know you will. It’s going to be lonesome here,” he added, “but the break had to come sooner or later.”

“But I’m not going away for good, Dad. Only for the summer.”

“Of course. You’ll be home in the fall and we’ll make plans for school then. Have you thought anything more about the university?”

“Too bad I wasn’t a boy, Dad, then I could have tried for football there.” There was just a note of seriousness in Janet’s voice for her father was an All-American halfback at Corn Belt U. and she knew he had always secretly been a little disappointed when she proved to be a girl, for there was no chance of a girl becoming an All-American halfback.

“Football isn’t everything,” replied her father. “I’m satisfied,” and he said it with a conviction that brought joy to Janet’s heart.

Through the evening hours Janet and her mother checked over the last minute packing. Trunks had been sent ahead by express and only the essentials were going to be carried in the bags they would take on the plane.

Janet’s luggage was attractive, but not expensive, for her father had never believed in undue waste of money.

That night Janet found it difficult to get to sleep. Tomorrow night they would be winging westward at three miles or more a minute and by the noon of the second day would be landing at the Grand Central airport at Glendale, from where they could motor over to Hollywood.

Finally sleep came and Janet dropped into the dreamless slumber of youth. It was mid-morning when she finally awakened as her mother shook her shoulders.

“Time to get up,” said Mrs. Hardy, “for there’s much to be done today before you start for Hollywood.”

Janet leaped out of bed for in spite of all of the preparations they had been making through the last week there were a hundred and one small things that remained to be done.

The hours fairly melted away. She made three or four trips down town on hurried errands and as many over to Helen’s, where the same hurry and bustle prevailed.

At dinner time her mother made her slow down.

“Everything’s done,” she announced. “Of course you may have forgotten one or two things, but they aren’t important, and they can be sent on later. Now you take it easy and enjoy dinner for this is the last one you’ll have with your father and me for some weeks. My Janet, but we’re proud of you,” she added, with a happy smile.

“I’m just afraid I won’t make good; that’s the only thing that scares me,” confessed the usually self-reliant Janet. “Everything out there is going to be so strange and as actresses, I’m fearful that Helen and I will be about the worst that ever struck Hollywood.”

“Impossible,” smiled her mother encouragingly, and after Janet mentally reviewed some of the pictures she had seen, she decided that quite likely her mother was right.

Her father arrived home promptly and they passed more than an hour at a leisurely dinner, visiting about a score of different incidents, none of them important in themselves, but all of them important in that they kept them around the dinner table, prolonging their last dinner hour.

Janet’s father finally looked at his watch.

“You’d better dress, dear. The westbound plane leaves Rubio at eleven o’clock and there’s no reason to rush the trip over there.”

He reached into his coat pocket and drew out a small case which he handed to Janet.

“Here’s a little present mother and I want you to have.”

Janet opened the case with hands that shook visibly. Inside was a tiny wrist watch with a thin, silver chain to go around her wrist. It was a beautiful creation of watchmaker’s skill and Janet looked up with just a trace of a tear in her eyes.

“It’s wonderful, but you shouldn’t have done this after giving me the trip to Hollywood.”

“You’ll have to have something to keep time by so you can get to the studio on time. Maybe I should have gotten you an alarm clock,” grinned her father.

“I packed one in her trunk,” smiled Mrs. Hardy. “Now hike and get into your things.”

Janet, tremendously happy and so thrilled she felt she was walking on air, hurried up to her room. After a quick bath, tapered off with a cool shower, she started dressing. Her outfit was new from the silken underthings to the sensible but attractive summer linen suit. The skirt, snug and well tailored, fitted beautifully and a small but bright blue tie added a note of color to her heavy, white silk shirtwaist.

The night air was warm and Janet decided to carry her coat. There was no use in putting it on and getting it mussed until necessary.

Standing in front of her dressing table, Janet looked around her room and a queer little lump caught in her throat. It was such a pleasant room; she would miss it, she knew, in the months to come.

Then her father called and she caught up the small traveling bag she was to carry on the plane, snapped out the light, and hurried down stairs.

“Step right along,” her father warned, and they hastened into the car and rolled around in front of the Thorne home down the block.

Henry Thorne, pacing up and down the porch, called to his wife and Helen, who appeared almost immediately. Both carried small overnight cases. As they came down the walk to the street, Henry Thorne turned off the lights in the house, locked the door, and followed them.

Now that the time of departure was near there seemed little to say. They had talked of it for so many hours it hardly seemed possible that they were on their way.

John Hardy sent his big car over the road at a smooth, effortless pace. The lights of Clarion dropped behind and they sped through the open country where there were only the occasional lights from farmhouses to mark the blackness of the night. Later there would be a moon.

Tonight they were in the heart of the mid-west and to Janet it was almost incredible that by noon tomorrow they would be in the city made famous by the movies.

When they reached the airport at Rubio several hundred cars were parked near the entrance for the coming and going of the night planes always brought out a crowd if they arrived before midnight.

Henry Thorne, who had their tickets, took them into the office to have them validated. When he returned he announced that the plane would arrive in 25 minutes.

“There’s a good tail wind up high tonight and they’re stepping right along,” he explained.

A field attendant took their bags and stowed them on a small luggage cart.

They talked almost aimlessly and Janet suddenly felt very empty and more than a little afraid of what her reaction would be when she got into the plane and the ground started dropping away from her.

Then a ripple of excitement ran through the crowd and she heard someone call.

“Here comes the plane!”

Out of the east twin stars suddenly appeared, coming rapidly and very low, and then she heard the steady beat of two powerful motors. Like some great bird of prey, a-wing in the night, the silvery monoplane swung over the field, circled sharply, and dropped down far out on the runway and rolled smoothly toward them, its propellers flashing in the bright rays of a floodlight which bathed the entire field in a mantle of brilliant blue.

Janet watched the scene with fascination. The ground crew rolled a small platform up to the door of the passenger cabin and a girl, not much older than herself and dressed in a smoke grey suit with a jaunty overseas cap perched on a mass of brown curls, stepped out. After her came several passengers, alighting for a bit of air and to stretch their legs before settling down for the long flight over the plains and into the higher altitudes that would take them over the Rockies.

Janet’s mother hugged her hard.

“We’ll miss you, dear. Write often and remember to do your best if you get a chance in any pictures.”

“I will, mother,” she promised.

“Goodbye, Dad.”

“Goodbye, Janet. Hit the line hard.”

“I’ll tackle it with all I’ve got.”

“I know you will,” he said with a confidence that Janet wished she could have felt.

Then Helen’s father touched her arm.

“Time to go,” he said, and Janet and Helen walked toward the plane while the Thornes said a final word of goodbye to their old neighbors.

“You have seats four and five on this side,” said the stewardess as the girls reached the plane.

Helen went in first with Janet close at her heels. The interior was much like a bus, thought Janet, and she found her seat unusually comfortable.

Helen’s father and mother took seats across the aisle from the girls and the stewardess came along and snapped on the safety belts.

“You can take them off as soon as we’re away from the field,” she explained.

The landing stage was pulled away, the starters hummed deeply as though struggling with stubborn motors, and finally the mighty engines burst into a deafening roar, but were soon throttled down.

Lights in the cabin were turned low and Janet, pressing her face close to the small, round window, could see her father and mother standing on the ramp. She waved, and they waved back. Then the plane started forward, rolling smoothly along the concrete. When it came to the crushed rock runway it bumped slightly, but before Janet knew it they were in the air and when she looked down again, the field was several hundred feet below. She was actually on her way to Hollywood.

Chapter XVIII

HELLO, HOLLYWOOD!

Janet and Helen found that by leaning close together they could converse but with the steady beat of the engines in their ears, a sense of drowsiness soon overtook the girls and they relaxed in their chairs. Janet dropped into a deep sleep that was not broken until their plane dropped down at Cheyenne well after midnight to change pilots and refuel.

Here the stewardess offered them a selection of fruit and Janet ate several oranges with relish. Then they were off again, meeting the sunrise east of Salt Lake City with the most glorious panorama Janet had ever seen unfolding beneath her eyes.

After that they swung southwest in an almost direct line for Los Angeles, climbing dizzily over the Sierras and then dropping down into lower California.

Helen glanced at her watch and Janet, still unused to her own, followed suit. They would be at the Grand Central airport in less than half an hour.

Helen, leaning back, cried, “We’re almost there,” and Janet nodded happily.

It seemed almost on the echo of Helen’s words, although it was actually minutes later, when the plane wheeled and settled gently down on the runway of a huge airport.

Janet, looking eagerly from the window, saw a group of cameramen standing at the gate which led to the field. There must be some celebrity on their own plane or on a ship due in soon. She scanned the passengers in their own cabin. None of them appeared unusually famous and she decided the cameramen were there to meet some other plane.

A landing stage was rolled up the moment the plane stopped and the stewardess opened the door.

“Take your time,” said Helen’s father. “We’ll all be a bit stiff after this long ride. You girls want to look your best.”

Janet stood up and smoothed out her skirt. It had remained remarkably fresh and the heavy silk shirtwaist showed only a few wrinkles. Her jacket would cover that up and she got that garment down from the rack over her head. Helen, who had worn a brown silk suit, had fared almost as well, and after a hurried glance into the mirrors in their handbags, both girls pronounced themselves ready to see what Hollywood looked like.

Helen’s father and mother were out of the plane first with the girls close behind them.

A uniformed airport employee nodded to Mr. Thorne.

“I’ve had your bags put in your car,” he said, and Janet saw the famous director hand over a bill.

The cameramen were still clustered at the gate and instead of looking for the arrival of another plane, seemed to be watching them as they advanced.

“Hi, Mr. Thorne,” greeted one of them, a chunky little fellow half hidden behind a huge camera. “Have a nice trip?”

“Fine, Joey. Couldn’t have been better.”

“Get any fish?” another one called.

“You guess,” smiled Helen’s father.

“That’s far enough,” said the photographer called Joey. “Just line up with the girls in the middle. What’s the idea trying to sneak in on us like this?”

“What do you mean?” parried Mr. Thorne.

“The Ace publicity office just tipped us off that you were coming in this noon with a couple of girls from the midwest and that you think they’re a couple of great film possibilities. I don’t call that playing very fair with us.”

“So the office phoned and said I was bringing in a couple of new stars?”

“That’s right. Now girls, smile a little. We won’t bite even if the cameras do look big.”

Janet and Helen, more than a little perplexed by the sudden turn of events, couldn’t help smiling while the photographers clicked their machines.

Then several reporters, who had remained in the background until the photographers were through, pushed ahead.

“Give us the dope, Mr. Thorne – who they are, where you found them, what you have in mind for them? Do you really think they’re good?”

“Good?” asked Henry Thorne slowly. “Good? They’re two of the finest possibilities that ever struck Hollywood. Boys, you don’t know how enthusiastic I am.”

“Think they’ll be big box office?” one reporter asked.

“As far as I’m concerned, they’re box office attractions right now and they are going to be under my personal management and supervision.”

Janet chuckled quietly for she could see the trend of Henry Thorne’s conversation.

“Sure, sure, we’ll admit they’re good,” said another reporter, “but who are they and where did you find them?”

Henry Thorne paused a moment as though deciding a question of tremendous importance.

“Well, gentlemen, of course I hadn’t expected the office would tip you off on my arrival. I’d rather planned on slipping in quietly and giving these girls a chance to get used to Hollywood, but I suppose I might as well tell you now. I want you to meet my daughter, Helen, and her friend, Janet Hardy.”

Reporters and photographers stared.

“You’re kidding us!” one of them protested.

“I’m very serious,” replied Henry Thorne. “You boys let yourselves in for this. I’ve always played fair with you and you thought I was pulling a fast one on you so I let your imaginations run along for a while.”

“Then they’re not new stars?” asked one photographer, who had taken unusual care to get some excellent shots.

“I didn’t say they weren’t. Now here’s actually the story. The girls graduated from high school last week and this trip west is a present to them. Both of them have brains, better than average looks, and both of them can ride. Billy Fenstow is going to put them into his next western, but whether they’ll be any good is another question. I’m willing to bet that they will.”

The photographer called Joey looked at Janet and Helen critically.

“I’ll string along with you,” he decided. “Those girls look like winners to me.”

“Thanks Joey. I’ll remember that.”

“Any time you have a picture scoop,” Joey retorted.

The Thornes and Janet went on to a waiting sedan where a driver was ready to whirl them to the home Henry Thorne maintained in Hollywood.

“That was quite an experience,” grinned Helen. “We almost became celebrities.”

“Just another fool stunt of the publicity office, but I guess it didn’t do any harm,” admitted Helen’s father.

Half an hour’s ride took them to a comfortable, sprawling bungalow set well back on a side street.

“I’ve been living in an apartment, but when I got the idea of bringing you back with me I leased this place,” Henry Thorne told his wife and daughter. “I’ve installed George, my negro cook, and there ought to be something in the way of lunch ready for us.”

The bungalow was delightful with a tremendous living room clear across the front and two long wings to the rear, one housing the dining room, kitchen and servants’ quarters while the other contained a series of bedrooms with baths between. At the rear, flanked by a high hedge, was a medium sized swimming pool with a diving tower.

“Dad, this is wonderful,” exclaimed Helen. “I don’t care now whether I ever get before a camera. I’ll be happy right here, spending my days in that pool.”

Mrs. Thorne took charge, made instant friends of George, the smiling cook, and assigned the bedrooms, Janet and Helen sharing one large room with twin beds. It was at the very rear of the house with a door that almost opened onto the pool, which pleased the girls.

“Clean up and we’ll have lunch. George informs me that it will be ready in fifteen minutes,” said Helen’s mother.

“How about a swim?” asked Helen.

“What in?” asked Janet.

“The pool, silly.”

“But I hear it’s even against California laws to go in a pool in your birthday suit.”

“I forgot. Of course we’d put our suits in the trunk and I suppose it will be a couple of days before they arrive.”

After a more prosaic shower, they felt tremendously refreshed and the luncheon which George had prepared was delicious.

“See about a maid at once to do the housework, mother,” said Henry Thorne, “and with George to do the cooking you can have a little fun, too.”

“But I want something to do,” protested Mrs. Thorne.

“There’ll be plenty just keeping track of Janet and Helen.”

“How would you like to attend a premiere of a new picture at the Queen’s Court tonight?” he asked.

“Fine,” replied Helen, “but what’s the Queen Court?”

“It’s the newest of the deluxe motion picture theaters here. You’ll see a lot of stars. What do you say now?”

“Count us in,” declared Janet.

“What’ll we wear? Our trunks aren’t here?”

“Mother’ll take you shopping this afternoon,” promised Henry Thorne. “Or better, I’ll take you around to Roddy at the studio.”

“I’m not a mind reader. Who’s Roddy?” Helen asked.

Her father looked at her in astonishment. Then grinned. “Sure, you wouldn’t know Roddy. Well, he’s a thin little fellow, almost bald, but he creates the most sensational clothes worn by the stars at our studio. His credit line on the screen is always signed Adoree, but that’s just for publicity. Roddy wouldn’t be a good name for a creator of ultra fashions.”

“You mean you’ll have Adoree do dresses for us for tonight?” asked Helen.

“You’d better not call him Adoree or he’ll stick you full of pins. He’s just plain Roddy around the studio.”

Janet’s throat suddenly felt dry. Here, on her first day in Hollywood, she was to have a gown created by a famous designer and attend a premiere at the Queen’s Court.

Chapter XIX

GORGEOUS GOWNS

Henry Thorne telephoned for an appointment with Roddy and then drove the girls to the studio.

The Ace plant, one of the largest in Hollywood, was built in a rambling Spanish style.

Where most automobiles were stopped at the main gate, Henry Thorne sent his car rolling right on through and the gatekeeper waved and smiled. He stopped at a small office and a boy hurried out.

“Mr. Rexler wants to see you at once. It’s about your next picture.”

Henry Thorne scowled a little as he said, “Tell him I’ll be along in a few minutes.”

Turning to the girls, he explained, “Rexler is the general manager and I’ll have to see him, but I’ll take you to Roddy first.”

The creator of famous styles had his office and workshop in a rambling, one story white stucco building.

Roddy looked just as Henry Thorne had promised he would and Janet thought a good, strong wind might blow the little man away. But she liked him instantly, for his eyes twinkled when Henry Thorne explained his mission.