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Authors: Gilbert Morris

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“I’m not very particular. I don’t think I can afford to be. I’m a little tired of the theater and haven’t done well there. I thought I might do well in films. Can you two give me some tests, and perhaps you’ve got a project that I can do something in?” She added, “Oh, I’m not asking for a starring part, of course, and I know that making feature films is different from the stage, but I’d like to try something. This is what I’ve been thinking of for a long time.”

Lylah spoke. “I don’t see any problem. You’re a fine actress, Mona, although I haven’t seen the latest things you’ve done. I don’t think you’ve been fortunate in your choice of vehicles. There’s a great deal more flexibility in the world of motion pictures. I think we need to find what you do best.”

“Well, I’m past the age of playing ingenues,” Mona shrugged, “but I’ll try anything to get a start—even put on a long dress and bonnet and be in a cowboy movie.”

Adam and Lylah both laughed at this, and it was Adam who said with a grin, “Well, that shows you’re ready for anything. Let me set up some tests with Frank Haviland. I’ll tell him to use his own judgment, and he’s the best at that sort of thing I know of. We’ll find something,” he said warmly.

Mona felt relief wash over her. “I can’t–I can’t tell you how much I thank you. Both of you. It was so hard for me to come here and ask for a favor.”

“You’re not getting a favor,” Lylah said. “It’s a business proposition, and I’ll say right now, Mona, that if Frank and Adam don’t come up with the right project, I’m afraid we’ll have to say no thanks.”

“That’s all I want. Just a chance,” Mona said quickly. A warm feeling went through her as she looked at these two members of her family. Adam took her on a tour of the studio and introduced her to Frank Haviland, who was his right hand at Monarch. Haviland was tall and thin, with a shock of iron gray hair and sharp black eyes. He listened carefully as Adam explained, then he turned his gaze to Mona. “Be here tomorrow at eight o’clock.”

“Do you have some scripts I could look at?”

“I’ll sort through what we’ve got and send them over to you by messenger. Are you at a hotel?”

“Why, yes.” She gave her hotel and room number.

“They’ll be there sometime this afternoon.”

“I’ll study them tonight, Mr. Haviland.”

“Just Frank.” He grinned and then said, “Get a good night’s sleep. They say I’m a hard taskmaster.”

Adam put Mona in one of the studio limousines and sent her back to the hotel, then returned to his mother’s office. He and Lylah talked for some time about the possibilities of finding a role for Mona.

“I haven’t really seen enough of her to know if she can make it or not,” Lylah said quietly. “People think making movies is easy, but it’s worn out more people than any profession I know of.”

“Well, we’ll have a better idea after tomorrow,” Adam said. He was standing with his back against the wall, his arms crossed, studying his mother. He had noticed the signs of age were more apparent, and he knew she missed Jesse with a fierce grief. He considered what he had to say next, knowing that it would add to her burden, but there was no way to avoid the subject.

“Mother,” he said quietly, coming over to stand beside her, “I’ve got something to tell you.”

Lylah caught the tone of his voice and turned swiftly to face him. She stood up and asked, “What is it, Adam?”

“I’m being recalled to active duty.” He saw that the news hit her hard and said, “I won’t be in combat. You don’t have to worry about that. They’re establishing a training section just outside Los Angeles for bomber pilots, and I guess they think I’ve still got something to offer.” He watched her face, saying, “I know this is difficult.”

“It’s not so bad. Not as long as you won’t be going to Korea.”

“There’s no chance of that, and the good part is I’ll be right here in L.A. and able to divide my time.”

“Have you told Maris yet?”

“No, I’ll face that job this evening.”

“She won’t like it, I’m afraid.” Lylah put her hands on his cheeks and pulled his face down and kissed him. “You’re a good son, Adam, and you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Adam said, hoarsely, “Well, that’s sweet of you to say so. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, too. Why, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.” He grinned at her.

Lylah asked, “Do you ever think of your father?”

“The Red Baron, you mean? Of course. Quite a bit. But Jesse was the father I knew and loved. He’s the one I miss.”

Lylah thought back to her brief, passionate romance with Baron Manfred von Richthofen. “Manfred was a strange man,” she whispered. “The most lonely man I’ve ever seen in my life. I think if he had outlived the war, he would have been the most unhappy man in the world—but he would have been so proud of you, Adam, just as Jesse was.”

Maris was aware all during dinner that something was on Adam’s mind, although he played with the children as usual. He went through the ceremonies of putting them to bed—which included making a parade through the house with Suzanne on his shoulders and Samuel in his arms. They marched through all the rooms singing “Howdy Doody Time,” then he put them in bed, saying a prayer over each of them.

When he came back from the nursery, he sat down at the kitchen table where Maris had coffee poured, and after he had tasted his, she said quietly, “You’re thinking about something. Is it trouble at the studio?”

“No, things are going well,” he said slowly. “Mona came in today. She wants to get into pictures.”

“Do you think she has a chance?”

“A very good chance. She’s a beautiful woman, and she’s got some good experience on the stage. She’s got a good voice, too. Frank Haviland is working on some tests for her. We’ll know pretty soon.” He swirled the coffee around, then said, “You know me pretty well, don’t you?”

“Pretty well. I’ve made a close study of you.” Maris smiled over her cup but was troubled. “What is it, Adam?”

“I’ve got a notice from the air force.”

Apprehension leaped into Maris’s eyes. “You have to go back into the service?”

“Just as an instructor. I won’t be seeing any combat this time, and it’ll be right here in Los Angeles. I won’t even have to leave home. I’ll just get up, and instead of going to the studio, I’ll go out to the air base to train bomber pilots.”

Maris smiled in relief. “I’ve been expecting something like this, but I thought you’d have to go to Korea.”

“No. I’m just an old soldier answering the call,” he commented. “It’ll be hard on Mother, but Frank’s coming along so fast that he can do my job as well as I can.”

They went into the living room. The television was still on and Jack Benny was talking with Rochester; they listened for a time, and when the program was over, Adam got up and turned the set off. He came back, put his arms around Maris, and kissed her with more ardor than usual. She said, “I’m glad you’ll be out of the clutches of all those beautiful women for a while. I won’t have to worry so much about looking matronly.”

He smiled. “Matronly! I feel sorry,” he said softly, “for all the men in the world that didn’t marry you. They don’t know what they’re missing.”

3
T
RUMAN
W
AS
R
IGHT

1
950 ended badly for America, at least in Korea. For a time in September, the troops were successful in containing the North Koreans. On the sixteenth, UN forces launched a counterattack. MacArthur liberated Seoul before the end of the month, and it appeared that the war might be over quickly. President Truman went out to Wake Island in mid-October and the two men discussed strategy. MacArthur, always the old war horse, assured the president that he would take Pyongyang, the North Korean capital, within days.

United Nations forces did so on October 19 and reached the Chinese border, having captured most of North Korea. But on November 3, China threw its massive military weight into the conflict, engaging U.S. forces at Unsan, and the United States was on the verge of a full-fledged war with the Chinese Communists. Military leaders were shocked to discover that two Chinese divisions were fighting in the northwestern part of the country, while another five divisions had massed in Manchuria on the north side of the Yalu River—three hundred thousand combat-proven Communist troops overwhelmed the Eighth Army and X Corps, which withdrew by land and by sea. Regiments of the First Marine Division were surrounded far inland at the Chosin Reservoir. They reached the coast, fifty miles away, in thirteen days of heavy engagement that has been called one of the great fighting retreats of history.

Stunned by the upsets in Korea, President Truman declared a state of emergency in the United States and urged all Americans to join the battle against Communist imperialism. A few weeks earlier, complete victory seemed at hand, but with the entrance of China, America faced a new and determined challenge by a fanatic enemy.

It had been Jerry’s idea to invite the relatives living in the L.A. area to join in a night out to celebrate the New Year, even though he and Bonnie faced 1951 with apprehension—Richard and Robert would celebrate their seventeenth birthday, and Richard had announced firmly that he was dropping out of school and joining the marines. Nothing his parents said would dissuade him. He had signed all the papers, and his parents yielded. Richard was scheduled to leave for boot camp on February 2, but the marine corps delayed his induction until two days after his high school graduation in May.

The L.A. Stuarts made a sizeable party for New Year’s. The cousins all came—Gavin’s two grown children, Phillip and Sidney; Adam, with Maris; and Mona. Lylah opted for a quiet evening at home. But Gavin and Heather came, and all three of Jerry’s children were there, even Stephanie, home from college for the holidays. They all gathered in the Skylight Room, the ballroom of the Delmonico Hotel, at nine o’clock. Jerry went at once to shake hands with his uncle Gavin. Gavin Stuart had flown Sopwith Camels, British-built fighters, in World War I against von Richthofen’s “flying circus.” After the war he had done everything a pilot can do, including flying in the first airmail service and organizing an acrobatic flying circus. He had been Jerry’s mentor in flying. Gavin now worked as a consultant to Lockheed and other large companies. At fifty-eight, he was still trim and fit, and his hair was dark except for the white streaks at his temples. For this occasion he was wearing an evening tail suit that consisted of narrow gray trousers, a gray cutaway jacket, a white silk shirt with wing collar, a white-and-gray-striped waistcoat, and a black bow tie.

“You look great, Gavin,” Jerry said. “If you drop dead, we won’t have to do a thing to you.”

“What an awful thing to say, Jerry!” Heather, Gavin’s wife, still retained a trace of her British accent. Her hair was blonde, and her blue eyes were as large and brilliant as ever, and she looked ten years younger than her fifty-six years.

Phillip Stuart was twenty-seven and looked like his mother. He had blonde hair, blue eyes, and was very tall, six feet two. His wife, Irene, was a small, dark-haired woman, and the two of them had produced three sons whom they had named Matthew, Mark, and Luke. Phillip joked that he wanted to name them after the twelve apostles but Irene felt that was too ambitious. Phillip’s sister, Sidney, was two years younger than he. She was a very attractive woman, with her father’s dark hair. Sidney was engaged to her college sweetheart, Nolan Cameron, a tall, handsome blonde who was in medical school. They planned to get married next year. Gavin was particularly proud of Sidney—she was the first of the Stuarts to graduate from college.

Phillip was wearing an air force uniform and had first-lieutenant’s bars on his shoulders. Jerry turned to him with surprise and said, “The air force doesn’t seem to care who flies their airplanes. When did all this happen, Phil?”

“Well, since I’ve always been a flier, when I volunteered, they snapped me up. I guess they’re raking the bottom of the barrel.” He stepped across and put his hand out to Richard saying, “I hear you’re gung ho for the marines, Streak.”

“Yes, sir, Phil. I don’t leave til after graduation, though.”

“You picked a rough outfit,” Phil shrugged, “but those are the fellows that get the job done on the ground. Good luck at boot camp. I hear you’ll need it.”

Stephanie was wearing a sapphire blue taffeta evening gown that had long sleeves and a sweetheart neckline. It cut in tight at the waist, and the long full skirt fell nearly to the floor, where blue satin slippers peeked out. Phil stepped forward. “If my wife will look the other way, I’m going to dance with a beautiful young lady.”

“Why, I’ll be happy to entertain the troops.” Stephanie smiled back and drifted off in his arms. She was a fine dancer and so was Lieutenant Stuart.

“You’re worried about your brother, I suppose.”

“Yes, I am, Phil. It’s not just that he’s going into the service but into the marines. You know what they do. They’re always the first ones to hit the beaches.”

“I know,” Phil said soberly. He shook his head. “He’s so young. It seems like just yesterday he was collecting baseball cards and excited about a new bicycle. Now he’s going out to do the roughest job in the world.”

Across the room, Jerry was dancing with Bonnie. He regarded her dress with a lifted eyebrow. “That dress ought to be illegal.”

“Oh, hush! I’m forty-five years old!”

“Why, Grandma, what big eyes you have,” Jerry grinned. He held her closer and tried to do a fancy turn and managed to get his feet tangled up.

Bonnie laughed aloud, her eyes sparkling. “You can’t dance any better than you ever could. I thought pilots were supposed to have balance, and you fall over your own feet!”

Jerry ignored her comment. “Your beauty drives me mad,” he said calmly and pulled her closer.

“Don’t hold me so tight.”

“You shouldn’t smell so nice and feel so good.” He kissed her hair and said, “Do you realize that in a few years, we’ll be grandma and grandpa? Does that make you feel old?”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Bonnie said. “I hate it that Stephanie’s gone, Richard is about to leave, and Bobby’s hardly ever home. Nothing would make me happier than to have a bunch of young Stuarts crawling around getting into everything.”

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