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"Inner circle" information about Cary and Barbara
Hutton
- the most hushed-up love story in Hollywood
The answer to the Hollywood query,
"Button, Button, Who's got Hutton?" is Cary Grant!
If he and Barbara aren't married when her divorce from Count Kurt
Haugwitz-Reventlow is final in February, their intimate friends
will be in for the sharpest letdown ever to hit this town of mad
surprises!
This hushed-up but hottest romance to hit the
film colony in years continues to mystify the large portion of
villagers not in the inner-circle "know." In a
town where news travels mercilessly fast, the Grant-Hutton romance
has been amazingly played down and gossipers' search for a news
oasis in their thirst for juicy facts has netted nothing but a
constant series of parched columns.
The reason for the silence is understandable,
however Cary Grant fans may disapprove of the secrecy attached
thereto. Barbara and he are in love. What hurts her
hurts him. Because she's been the target for bitter press
attack, she isn't anxious to stick her neck into another blast
now. There isn't a person living who trembles more at the
mere mention of "fourth estate" than Barbara
Hutton. And today, more than ever, she doesn't want any
magazine or newspaper barrage to send her on a detour from the
signpost she's just found in Hollywood, marked "Happiness
Ahead."
It is happiness ahead for Barbara and Cary,
especially if outside influences do not interfere. If you
knew the two, you'd sense the change in both instantly.
Cary is again the gayest person in
Hollywood. Barbara, twice capsized in her matrimonial
voyages, is on even keel again. There's a sharp breeze ahead
and clear sailing.
Barbara has run into a man who can stand on
his own feet. Cary doesn't need her money - not at $125,000
a picture and more bids than he can ever fill. When Barbara
dumped a cool $250,000 to the American and British Red Cross, Cary
turned his entire $125,000 take for his stint in "The
Philadelphia Story" to the same organizations.
They've been a two-way tonic for each
other. Cary, before this, had never really gotten over his
love for his former wife, Virginia Cherrill, now the Countess of
Jersey. It's ironic, indeed, that it took another countess
to snap him back into stride. And there's no question but
that Barbara has done it.
As an individual, there isn't a better liked
person in Hollywood than Grant. He is the same off the
screen as he is on. He is affable, kind, cheerful. He
is an overgrown kid who enjoys the unpretentious things in
life. He is considerate. His generosity is not of the
publicized variety, although he pays many bills in Hollywood for
old down-and-out friends you never hear about. He shuns
publicity. He's the shining example of a fellow who can get
on without it. There's no stuffiness about Grant. He
stands out in sharp contrast to Barbara's former husbands and
their regal routine and society parties that made anything but
good copy in New York or abroad. Cary's a down-to-earth guy
who prefers the company of a few good friends to all the night
clubs in the world. There's no fuss, no sham, no attempt to
impress. If once you're Cary's friend, you're always his
friend. He has an intelligent sense of values and does
everything possible to maintain it. What Grant offers as a
personality goes far beyond any of the pseudo-sophisticated
divertissement Hollywood or New York offers under the guise of
entertainment.
Those Hollywood people who really know Barbara
find a girl far different from the press-depicted person.
She's very quiet, very feminine, extremely shy. She dresses
with simple conservatism. She wears no crazy array of
diamonds and rings. If you didn't know her as Barbara
Hutton, you'd take her for any other well-dressed woman on Madison
Avenue or Wilshire Boulevard. The only adornment she has
worn in the line of jewelry since she came to Hollywood is a thin
gold bracelet. She lives far more sanely than many of the
top stars and producers, never does anything to impress.
Cary Grant feels these things to be true about
Barbara. He and his friends have gotten to know her warmly
and affectionately. They take cognizance of the fact that
her mother died when Barbara was but three; that she was but a
youngster when she was swept off her still immature legs by Prince
Mdivani. Cary is not interested in the causes for her
unhappiness - he's interested only in the effect of them upon her
life and he seeks only to cure them.
Her friends know her as a very loyal
person. Her servants who have been with her for years swear
by her. If she asks for tea to be served, the order
invariably takes the form of "Will you be good enough to
serve tea now?" When she telephones her representatives
- people she can fire at will - she never fails, in her shyness,
to inquire first whether or not it would be too much trouble to do
this or that now.
She is a good mother. She loves her
child as any mother does her children. She spends more time
with her son than she does at all her other activities
combined. But she sees no reason to publicize what's the
most natural thing in life.
It is true that Barbara has invaded Hollywood
behind closed doors! Few people here, as a matter of fact,
have seen anything of her since her arrival. But she wants
no publicity; asks only to be left alone. Cary loves Barbara
and will do anything possible to make and keep her happy. At
the outset, his friends were worried about the association. They
were concerned about what it might do to his career. But
they're no longer worried. There isn't one of them who
doesn't think Cary an Barbara are a swell combination.
Barbara has found a bulwark of friendship and kindness in Grant
she's never known before. In Barbara, Cary has found the
tenderness, warmth and affection so rare in cold Hollywood.
The romance had its start in New York last
year. Although it wasn't geared in high until this summer,
it picked up lots of momentum when Cary was in New York last
March. When he returned to Hollywood, Barbara's pictures
began to adorn his rooms.
In the spring of the past year, Barbara
arrived in San Francisco with her young son, en route to
Honolulu. Before sailing, she spent most of her time with
her long-time friend Countess di Frasso and Ricardo Cortez, who
squired both around the town. Barbara then left for
Honolulu, but returned after a month both because of her son's
poor health and her concern over war developments abroad.
If there is any one person responsible for
playing cupid in this romance, that person is the Countess di
Frasso. It was the Countess who house-guested Barbara on her
return from Hawaii. It was the Countess who arranged the
get-together dinners that brought Cary and Barbara closer with
each dessert. The more Barbara lingered in Hollywood, the
more Hollywood grew on her. The more she saw of Cary Grant,
the fonder the two became of each other, until, late in the
summer, she chucked all ideas of going East to the winds and
rented Buster Keaton's smart but conservative house in Beverly
Hills. Through the Countess di Frasso and Cary she was
introduced to a small circle of friends. There is little
chance now that the Woolworth heiress will return to New
York. She dislikes Gotham intensely. Besides, all her
other friends are mostly in England.
Cary's and Barbara's Hollywood friends include
Mr. and Mrs. Douglas Fairbanks Jr., Noel Coward (when he's in
town), Elsa Maxwell, "Dickie" Gordon, Richard Gully,
Ricardo Cortez, Johnny Maschio and his wife, Connie Moore, Reggie
Gardiner, and the DeLaney Hunters and Lady More, who are Barbara's
house guests. (There'll be three English refugee children at
her home soon, too.)
Now, while the Hollywood grapevine mumbles
about a Cary Grant-Barbara Hutton romance, only these close
friends really know what it's all about. They say nothing to
anyone - a more tight-lipped crew you'll never find. Cary,
who naturally shuns publicity, will not give out any
statement. If he's queried, he keeps quiet. Since both
he and Barbara dislike and thus avoid night clubs, there are no
pictures of them together at such spots. All the intimate
parties they attend (and we'll come to that directly) are closed
affairs. The press and photographers are summarily
barred. Even Elsa Maxwell's party for Noel Coward, which
drew a tremendous crowd, was closed tighter'n a snare drum.
If Cary and Barbara take dinner out, they avoid press-infested
hostelries.
There isn't a phonograph in town that wouldn't
give its right arm to play the recordings made at the intimate
parties mentioned above. No matter who the host - and they
take turns - no party is complete without each person's doing his
or her bit on the recording machine. For example, one record
will have Cary doing one of his hot piano solos, which a friend
describes as: "It stinks, but it's wonderful." The
same disc will have Barbara singing. Reggie Gardiner keeps
the "variety" show moving with his impersonations.
Jimmy Stewart, also with the gang, will do a monologue.
Dough Fairbanks will exhibit his "Angel Over Broadway"
East Side accent. When it's all over they play the record
back over and over again. These playbacks are good for a
million laughs. The group also gets up impromptu plays and
acts them right into the mike-hugged instrument.
The parties, according to the press-conceived
Hollywood standards, are quiet and simple; the average
Hollywoodian or visitor might even consider them dull.
Actually, the parties are lots of sport - good conversation,
bright, sparkling humor.
These parties are new to Barbara. She
loves them. Cary is happy that she's able to relax, be
herself and join in the fun. He has apparently discovered
the right combination for her escape into a world she's always
dreamt about but never had an opportunity to know.
Fortunately the parties break up early, for
Barbara is strictly an 11 o'clock date. She is awake every
morning at nine and is with her son until two or three, when she
prepares for her tennis lesson. Then it's a swim, usually at
Cary's Santa Monica beach home, where friends are always gathered
for tea. Dinner is usually scheduled at her place, or with
different friends at theirs.
When Cary's on a picture, she'll accompany him
to the lot on the rare occasions when the set is closed to the
press and public. No pictures are ever shot of her on a
sound stage. She herself, merely for the record, is not
interested in a film career, despite stories to the contrary that
were carried when she arrived.
Evenings, when they're not with friends,
you'll find the two driving toward Lake Arrowhead or along the
Beach highway to Santa Barbara. Yes, and they stop off for
hamburgers and hot dogs. Cary, overgrown kid that he is, is
a sucker for frankfurters.
We don't know what they talk about on these
excursions into the night, but it's evidently satisfying
conversation for both. They drive this way often. Cary
wants Barbara in the open air. He thinks she needs building
up. Truth is, Barbara is very frail, and tips the scales at
a mere ninety pounds.
Cary's forgotten about his former wife, the
Countess of Jersey. His only great love before Barbara was
for her and it's strange at the striking resemblance between the
former Virginia Cherrill and Barbara. Cary sticks true to
type. He's forgotten, too, about his long-ago dates with
Betty Furness (now Mrs. Johnny Green), Adelaide Moffett and
Phyllis Brooks.
Whether or not Cary and Barbara look forward
only to February when her divorce is final, neither will
say. But friends think differently. They are sure when
the time is ripe the romance will bear fruit. There is
apparently no question but what the Danish divorce will become
final at the expected time. Barbara's spokesman in New York
said some time ago that blitzkrieg or no blitzkrieg the divorce
will become final. Count Reventlow, at this writing, is in
New York, but there has been no attempt on either his or Barbara's
part to communicate with one another. According to the terms
bared in the divorce agreement, she is to have their son Lance
nine months a year, while the Count has him three.
As for her citizenship, Barbara is making
every effort to regain her American status. But since this
means going through a long maze of legal entanglements, it'll be
some time before she can step up to a poll and cast her vote
again.
Barbara's been knocked down for the count
twice. This time, if she and Cary are rice-pelted, as
apparently they will be, she's ear-marked for real happiness -
because this time she's getting best liked guy that ever hit this
town called Hollywood.
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