{New Article} 1938: What’s Become of the Good Scout?

This article is lamenting the chatterbox lounge lizard Carole of the past–the pre-Clark Carole!

Carole is the needle in the Hollywood haystack, and press, public and photographers all find her hard to track down. What’s happened to that good scout who was always available for a laugh, a picture, a gag or a cocktail? That’s what everyone is asking now. And not only us get-arounds in Hollywood, but fans write and want to know, too. “What about Carole? Why no interviews? Has she gone high hat? Where is she? What is she doing?”

Well, here it is finally, not the awful truth, but the very acceptable truth which explains briefly, but conclusively, all those harassing questions. Carole, as you shall soon see, is, in many ways, still the old Carole, only, whereas she used to be “anybody’s copy,” the Carole of today is strictly “not for publication.” And that brings us to the first “why” of the story.

For the answer to that most repeated question of why this sudden desire for personal oblivion and Garboian solitude we must first cherchez l’homme, because there is usually a man behind most female plots, though the reverse has been more often publicized. And in this case we don’t have to look very far, for he is usually right there by her side, a certain Mr. Gable. Gable is responsible for at least eighty per cent of her withdrawals from fanfare, and his responsibility may even be divided into two parts: forty per cent direct influence, forty indirect. Let’s take the indirect first, because at the moment it seems to be the most prevailing. When you ask Carole why she has suddenly adopted this words-off and camera-away policy as far as Clark is concerned, she just loses her lips tight, and for the moment you think she isn’t going to answer you at all. Then the old Carole smile shimmers through and she says, not harshly, but gently, “Well, considering everything, wouldn’t you?”

And because we, eventually, saw what she meant, and saw that she was right, we redirect the question to you. In other words, we’ll try to squeeze you in her shoes (size four and a half A) and then you’ll see it, too. So now, let’s suppose.

You are a famous movie star. You meet and fall in love with another movie star. You begin going places together. The world takes you up, plasters you all over its pages. Glamorous couple, so delightfully suited to each other. Real love at last. And the inevitable speculation—how soon will you say “I do?” In the meantime the world forgets that there is still such a little thing as the movie man’s wife (oh, isn’t he divorced yet?) to be reckoned with.

You haven’t forgotten though. There is talk about a property settlement—that seems to be holding up the parade to the altar, by detour of the divorce courts, but how can that drag out so long? You know that the other woman is a fine woman, beloved by all who know her, but you also know that love turns funny tricks sometimes. If she loves him enough there may be jealousy, for jealousy is the first flower of heartbreak, and jealousy often produces a little bud of its own, a not so fragrant one, a bud with thorns—or as some people call it, scandal. Under the circumstances then, as Carole herself has suggested, what would you do?

There is only one answer, if you’re a wise girl: put on the soft pedal. No more gadding around night clubs, no more even sitting at the tennis matches with the best beau beside you, and the flashlights popping all around. No more being conspicuous, no more calling attention to the fact that where you go he goes, too—and no more, especially no more giving of little white Fords with little red hearts painted all over them, red hearts which mean little though themselves, but which might be interpreted as flagging semaphores, with an “I love you” message. No more of what was gay and glorious and giddy, at least not where the Cyclopean eye of the public can see.

 It’s always been interesting to me how much the press loved Clark and Carole’s realtionship seemingly from the get-go. I wonder if another actress, one with more “bite”, one with more of a “reputation”–perhaps Joan Crawford or Bette Davis or Miriam Hopkins– would have been saluted as being married Clark’s love interest. But nice girl Carole can do no wrong–naturally! I think that is really what got to Ria. All of Clark’s other girlfriends were hidden by the press, never heralded. But this Carole romance–suddenly everyone was awaiting the divorce!

You can read the article in its entirety in The Article Archive