MISS BALL GOES TO BAT!

January 23, 1941

On January 23, 1941, film star Lucille Ball was the subject of a full page article by Hollywood correspondent Lucie Neville, including cartoons by Carol Johnson and three photographs in the Franklin Repository Public Opinion (PA).  

By LUCIE NEVILLE, HOLLYWOOD 

THE still-man on the set of “Three Girls and a Gob” was trying to snatch some pictures between scenes and was having no luck at all. Electricians trailed lengths of cable through the tripod legs; prop men strolled in front of the camera. Just as there was some inquiry about who would like a good poke in the nose, Lucille Ball broke in with a shouted, “You let him alone! He minds his own business and does his work. G’wan, Fred…shoot the picture.” And she struck a leggy pose, smiled wistfully into the lens, then made a snoot at the crew.

Knowing how it feels to get shoved around, Miss Ball vigorously defends all weak, helpless creatures, from union photographers to underprivileged producers. But she really goes to bat for anybody who, like herself, asks no favors, minds his own business and does his work. That’s doing things the hard way and doesn’t promote reams of publicity and sudden stardom. But it’s showing steadily increasing results for Miss Ball. 

The honey blond with the big blue eyes has been a major decoration of RKO films for five years, and she has been picked time and again as a can’t-miss star prospect. Her invitation to join the small but select cast of “Mr. Pinky” makes 1941 success pretty definite for her. 

THERE has been no colossal publicity on Lucille Ball, largely because her studio hasn’t boasted its smart, hard-working blond. But some of the fault is hers, because she isn’t good at aimless conversation and doesn’t eagerly volunteer dabs of personal information. Her early movie interviews she remembers as pretty flat because she had no exciting anecdotes and didn’t believe anybody could be interested in knowing whether she liked apples and what time she got up. Well, how about that time she landed her plane on the ice on Lake Chautauqua and rescued a couple of youngsters? “Oh, that! It happened a long time ago.” the heroine said un-encouragingly. “Why bring it up now? It doesn’t matter.” 

In those first Hollywood days, she was an independent little package whose swaggering what’s-it-to-you air helped cover easily hurt feelings, but didn’t encourage sympathy or friendships. Now, with more poise and assurance, her tongue isn’t so sharp, and she has relaxed. But she still is cagey with gossip columnists whenever she suspects one of trying to make her say what he thinks.

The pencil-and-paper boys got plenty of copy without asking any nosey questions, though, when the Lucille Ball – Desi Arnaz flame began to burn. All they had to do was watch, from the day the Latin from Manhattan musicals started work in “Too Many Girls.” Since Hollywood long had accepted Director Al Hall as the actress’ steady beau, it figured the new romance was just routine publicity that would end with the premiere. But it didn’t. Until Senor Arnaz reluctantly went back to Broadway to rehearse for a new show, he and Miss Ball might have been seen every noon, beaming at each other and paying very little attention to food. Rhumba spots called it a dull night when the two didn’t drop in. And instead of giving gossip-itemizers the usual brush-off, the actress welcomed chances to talk about the boy friend. 

Servants like to work for her, only they’re forbidden to brag or gossip about her to other movie-colony domestics. Plump, sepia-skinned Harriett, who is her personal maid, watches every scene from a canvas chair stenciled with her name. Miss Ball had the studio fix it specially so Harriett could rest her feet, just like a star or a director. 

Few people call her Lucille, and she has dozens of nicknames. Usual one is Lucie. Director Eddie Ludwig calls her Apples. During New York schooldays, she was Bobbie, or, because of her Montana birthplace, Two-Gun. While she imitated movie idol Clara Bow’s hairdo and makeup, she liked to be called Paris – the It Girl’s name in one movie – and proudly lettered PARIS across the chest of her basketball sweater. 

SHE knows publicity tricks, recently proved it when she got in a free plug for her boss, his picture and herself at the same time. In New York at the end of a personal appearance tour with “Dance, Girl, Dance,” she was wired to hurry home Harold Lloyd had turned producer and wanted her for “Three Girls and a Gob.” But Miss Ball didn’t depend on just being met by a couple of photographers at the airport. 

Instead, she hied herself to the World’s Fair grounds, arranged for one of the long-distance telephone calls on which thousands of visitors could listen in, and talked to Lloyd in Hollywood asked him all about the picture and himself, what her role would be, when the film would release. After this smart stunt, Lloyd isn’t bothering much about looking for another pretty and clever comedienne for his other pictures. 

The main reason she appreciates her business manager is because he has cut down on her hand-outs, won’t let her be a generous sucker. But the manager doesn’t cost Miss Ball a cent; she made her agent furnish, and pay him. For a while, she owned an artificial flower shop here but closed it, and later, her gown shop, as soon as it showed a loss. Lots of customers, she said, but an actress doesn’t have time to attend to business details the way she likes. And Miss Ball is strictly business, except where long-distance telephone calls are concerned. She has absolutely no conception of toll charges. 

She avoids local conversations, but given the faintest excuse to talk to anybody in New York or Miami, she’ll call several times in an evening, hang on until pried loose. Her toll charges probably will give her business manager gray hairs while Desi Arnaz is on Broadway. 

NEXT largest extravagance is hats. “I buy ‘em like spinach. I hate ’em but think they’ll be good for me,” she explained. “Every time I’ll say to myself, ‘Look, Lucy, it cost a lot be a good girl and wear the nice hat.’ Then I leave it on the shelf until it’s out of style." 

She has had the acting bug since she was three years old a precocious brat who danced and sang on the street corners of Jamestown. N.Y. "I picked up quite a little change that way, until my mother found out,” Miss Ball said. For a while she planned to be a concert pianist like her mother, but two years of music study after high school disillusioned her. 

The stage idea came back, and she entered John Murray Anderson’s drama school, toured for a while in stock. But back in New York, she could get only show-girl jobs, lasted briefly in Ziegfeld and Earl Carroll choruses. Even changing her name to Diane Belmont, obviously theatrical, didn’t help. So when she was hired as a manikin for Hattie Carnegie’s snooty salon, she gave up stage ambitions. But she determined she’d be the best model in New York, or else. 

“I was always the girl who had to show the organdies and nets,” Miss Ball recalled. “I got so sick and tired of ruffles that everything I bought for myself was tailored and still is. But the frills helped get me to Hollywood.” 

“I was posing for commercial photographers, besides modeling, and one job was a cigarette ad had me in a fluffy blue frock with a couple of white wolfhounds. The tobacco people picked me for special advertising because of it, and when Samuel Goldwyn hired all the poster girls for ‘Roman Scandals,’ I came along with all the others.”  She stayed. 

Speaking of hats and fitted couture, this photo and blurb appeared on the same date (January 23, 1941) in the Santa Ana Register (CA). 

On the same day in a different paper, fashion writer Ruth Penney mentioned Lucille Ball’s blouse in “A Girl, A Guy, and a Gob.”

Not to be outdone, the January 23, 1941 Hazelton Plain Speaker (PA) included a casually attired Lucille Ball on vacation in Miami Beach, Florida. 

Also on January 23, 1941, in Harrison Carroll’s syndicated column “Behind the Scenes in Hollywood” he reported that Lucy and Desi were in a car wreck where she got a black eye.

Different column, same day: Robbin Coons reported in his “Hollywood Sight…and Sounds” column that Desi had written a new song for his new bride.