Browning chief. [volume] (Browning, Mont.) 1941-1953, 1945-06-22
CHAPTER xxi

"Wen, I suppose I could 60 to
work at my regular Hollywood sal
airy. But I would have to have my
expenses"
"1'd have to take that up with
Chicago"
''That's the very least could af-
ford to do the job for" I said, once
more the businessman. "You know,
that's working pretty cheap"
He nodded Understandings at the
plight Of the workingman.
"1'n call Chicago and let you
know"
The elevator and foated down
together.
It wasn't long before I was living
in Chicago in the Stevens Hotel with
all expenses paid. Oh boy!
I went out on a tour of three
states and found that dealer"
was a filling station man. One day,
"to get the feel OF it," I went out
on an oil truck and helped deliver
gasoline and fuel oil to farmers in
Wisconsin, and finally wrote the
"training film." It was filmed in
Hollywood under the title Stan, and
was shown in the Midwestern states
controlled by that company-the
most ambitious training film that
had ever been made.
Then came the great-the wonder
ful-moment. put all the training
film money carefully aside, some
magazine stuff I had already writ
ten sold, so when I was through
with the film hurried home to Mis-
souri, as fast as l could 60 and
went in to see the representative
of the eastern insurance company.
asked him how things we're. They
were just plain bad, he said as only
an insurance company representa-
tive can say it, And there was the
situation on the Croy farm. His
company had been riding him. He
looked pretty disturbed.
WELL" I said, II suppose had
better pay that off,"
He smiled pleasantly; one of my
jokes.
Lets figure up how much it is"
said and hauled out a check.
"You mean all of it," he gasped.
II might as we'll do it now as any
time" I said as if paying off
mortgage was mornings trifle.
Then had glimpse into field
that made book writing seem as de-
pendable as corner post. After
finished Family Honeymoon"
which I consider my best comedy,
I sat looking at it with paternal
pride; maybe it would make play.
Then and there I condensed the plot
into these lines:
"A professor in the Middle West
falls in love with young and at
tractive widow who has four chill
dren. He proposes and is accepted.
AS the happy bride and groom are
getting ready to leave they are
forced, at the last moment, to take
the children along on the honey
moon. Many strange things happen,
but in the end all is we'll and happi-
ness again reigns."
I sent this with a note to Owen
Davis, and in no time at all he had
me on the telephone. He was in
the middle of play of his own, he
said, and had two commitments on
his desk, but he liked the honey
moon idea, and would l send him
the manuscript?
I got it to IS East 18th Street so
fast that he must have thought the
messenger was already downstairs.
Forty-eight hours later Owen Da-
Wis telephoned that he had read it
all in one night and that he was
willing to drop everything and start
the professor and his bride off on
their honeymoon. I was delighted.
The theater-wise Owen Davis! Aft
er while, over the pounding of my
heart, I heard him ask:
"When can you come to the Hotel
Astor and have lunch with me?"
said I could come today.
He had, I discovered, regular
table in the Hunting Room. Some
luncheons you never forget, and I'll
never forget that one. Not what we
ate, but what we talked about. and
the feeling of buoyancy and tremen-
.dous delight had to be alive and a
part of this fine world.
AS we built up the humorous stu
atoms, we laughed so delightedly
that people turned and stared. But
that was all right with me. Some day
SHey'd be laughing at the play and
laying us money for the privilege.
After lunch we went to the office
of Richard J. Madden, the play
agent, and Owen Davis told him the
terms he would give me. I was so
pleased that Owen could have said
that he would just give me a pass
to the show and / would have been
satisfied. A play on Broadway!