MOVIE MIRROR
"Tyrone Power's Bachelor Guide to Hollywood "
November 1937
By Dorothy Spensley






Hollywood bachelors, collectively, don't think in terms of matrimony. Not if they are twenty-three, tall, dark, handsome, with Irish wit, and are building up annuities, as Tyrone Power is doing. Sorry, girls, but it?s true. They'll marry later, of course, and rear families, but when they are still on the up-grade climb to fame neither Norse snow maidens with fabulous skating ability (Sonja Henie) nor American movie queens (write your own ticket) can sidetrack them into marriage.

"Most of the men I know have the same ideas that I have about marriage," said Tyrone Power seriously. "It's out now. Later, when we have economic security, we'll think about marrying. The girls that we go about with are usually actresses and they feel the same way about immediate marriage. It's alright-later."

The purpose of the conclave was not to get the matrimonial lowdown on Champion Bachelor Power, and other eligible lads-about-town, but to get a Leica view of what makes up an unwed cinema hero.

How, for instance, does his live? Where does he buy his ties, his socks, his shaggy polo coat, his shirred-sleeved tuxedo, his haircuts, his glamour girl's corsages, his uncut drinks, his streamlined cars and slacks, his black pearl cuff links and cashmere sports suites, his lotions and luggage? Where does he go for entertainment-dinners, films, dances? Now if it's Alps you want, you go to Switzerland. If it's notes on how an eligible bachelor lives you go to Hollywood's Tyrone Power.

"I'll tell you, if you'll do me a favor," he said. "Will you promise?"

The answer, of course, if obvious. We nodded. What, we quivered, hoping for the worst, was the favor?

"Promise me," quoth Tyrone, "that you will not have anything in the title which reads or sounds anything like 'More Power to Tyrone!' I'm a little fed up on that one.?

We promised, and here we are giving you elementary lessons on How to become a Hollywood Bachelor. Bachelorhood, we know, is a fledgling state in which the male flaunts his brightest feathers. This explains all the brilliant plumage of the Hollywood unattached male. His sky blue suits and those of sage green; his gaudy cravats and polka-dotted ties. Only in Nature's rival birdland does the male of the species dress any brighter.. So, of course, if you are going to be a Hollywood bachelor you'll have to polish up your apparel. You need not buy thirty suits a year, as does ex-bachelor Dick Powell, but you?re going to have to ignore a few inhibitions when it comes to gaiety and color.

Mr. Davis (Tyrone's tailor) of Mariani and Davis Learns to his dismay (and so do we, for we thought young Mr. Power was a representative cinema bachelor) that the young 20th Century-Fox star majors in blues and grays when it comes to suits, but think how far you can go with blue this season in masculine sartorial splendor-Horizon, blue, Cobalt blue, et cetera. Gone, Tailor Davis reports, are last season's broad shoulders. It's the chest that?s emphasized this month. The trousers have three plaits at the waist and the coat three buttons up the front. Those trick sleeves that Tyrone had put in his tuxedo are called "draped shoulders," but the fullness, to our dresssmakerly eyes, is just so much shirring.

Young Power's wardrobe boasts several of those new soft-as-silk cashmere suites that the lads are wearing informally. They won't last long, the suits, but the impression they create and the comfort they give are the things that count. Beyond these garments, Power?s wardrobe is slim for a Hollywood bachelor but it will develop as his success does: Eight suits, six pairs of shoes, three hats. "When it comes to ties I never buy them," Tyrone reports, in dark-eyed amusement. "My man, Bill Gallagher, always buys them for me. "It's about time you were getting some more ties." He'll say, and come back with a dozen. I pick out one and wear it until it?s shabby and the others are still new. I guess you couldn?t call me "tie-conscious.?"

A little disillusioning, this confession, but not so upsetting as the news that the sumptuous new haberdashery shop, the Sunset House, with its black marble front, bronze-medallioned fare, eight barber chairs manned by imported New York tonsorial artists-a shop that is simply created for the Hollywood male-has not been frequented by our hero. Well, maybe the other bachelors patronize it.

"There's a little place in the Hollywood Plaza Hotel, Jack Bell's, maybe you know it?" asks Tyrone. "That's where I buy most of my things. This cigarette case of leather I bought there. I'm kind of mad about leather. I have a suede coat and even leather cuff links that I got at Bell's. He has god looking sweaters, and shirts. My shoes and socks I guy at Hamilton's-the same place where I bought my things before I got my contract."

So the extra-long cigarette case of soft pigskin was not a gift. "No," he laughed. "I bought it myself."

"You'll have to ask someone else for that answer," retorted Power. "No square-cut emeralds on my salary. Flowers, yes. But not jewelry.?

He buys flowers at a chromium-and-glass emporium that is called "Halchester's." So do many of the movie males. Chet Halchester, its proprietor, is known to be the essence of discretion. You?ll never learn who is that way about whom from him.

"I like to send roses," said Power. "And long boxes of spring flowers. You know how they fix 'em-row upon row of tulips, ranunculuses, anemones, delphinium, until they fill the box. Some Sunday mornings I'll wake up, stretch, and think 'Gee, I feel like sending flowers today.' Then I'll get the phone and send flowers to girls I know."

When it comes to corsages, this twenty-three-year-old is a master of diplomacy. Many an older male could learn from him. He phones his lady and asks her what frock she will be wearing on the gala night. Then he orders flowers that will harmonize with her gown. The blonde Henie usually wears white and gets white or dark purple orchids. To others Tyrone sends gardenias. His master stroke was sending Talisman roses to a girl who was wearing brown chiffon. For himself, and for his home, this bachelor will take white carnations, thank you.

Power's favorite semi-classic music is Strauss" "Tales from a Vienna Wood." Among painters he likes Van Gogh; in the American moderns, Grant Wood. Petty, the inimitable, with his lush ladies, is his favorite illustrator. These preferences shape into a pointed picture of this young bachelor whose Irish wit nullifies the tragedy of his dark eyes.

Of course if you're the kind of bachelor who insists upon buying jeweled knick-knacks for your lady, Hollywood is full of glittering bubbles, and the Sunset Strip is a fine place for you to ramble. We are going right along with our monograph on bachelorhood as lived by Tyrone Power. With costume and corsages well covered, we can go carefully into the places where such creations are displayed. We mean swig and swing salons, full soft lights and music. The Trocadero is one such place; perhaps the most de luxe of them all.

"I like to go there on Sunday night when I am not working," Tyrone told me. "They have special entertainers, and you can be sure that everyone in Hollywood will be there. About the best Sunday night show the Troc put on was the Weber and Fields affair. What would I order? Let's see-" He leaned back in his chair, obviously delighted with the culinary trend of the conversation. What healthy young male doesn't like to eat?"

"No, I wouldn't order for the lady," he answered my query. "Most girls I go with are professionals and have an eye to their weight. I'd let her order what she wanted. She knows what's on her died, or off it. For myself, a shrimp cocktail and a cream of asparagus soup. Then I'd have a filet of beef, medium rare, with string beans. Sweet desserts don't interest me, so I'd have a fruit compote, or some cheese, and coffee. That's my idea of a real meal."

Today, at a hurried lunch between scenes of "In Old Chicago," the young fellow was eating lamb stew, drinking mil, topping it off with a cup of coffee.

"My favorite eating place is the Tropics," said Power. "I go there about two or three times a week because it is quiet, the food is good, and I don?t have to 'put on an act' if I am tired from working. I can relax and be myself."

It is there that he occasionally sips a Scotch Old-Fashioned, his favorite drink, but mostly Power gets his exuberant good spirits from a workout at the Hollywood Athletic Club. Like most young Hollywood bachelors, Power is a member of the HAC, takes sunbaths in the nude on its spacious roof, swims, boxes and plays handball or squash. When he wants to go to a beach club, his membership gives him privileges at Santa Monica?s Deauville Club, the Surf and Sand Club at Hermosa Beach, the Pacific Coast Club at Long Beach, and the Riviera Club.

Our hero does not belong to any of the excellent local country clubs, but if you?re the kind of bachelor who enjoys golf and the usual exercise at the nineteenth hole, there are any number of good clubs to join-Lakeside, where Bing Crosby plays, California, Bel Air, Brentwood, Wilshire, and so on. And you'll probably find a number of Power's contemporary celibates [sic] as members, although, when you think about it, it's mostly the married men who are country club members. There is undoubtedly a good reason for it. As for tennis, we regret to inform you that young Power does not belong to the swank West Side Tennis Club, nor to the various racquet clubs of Palm Springs. That may come later. His star rating is still very new and shining.

Tyrone's home life is typical of the Hollywood bachelor's. He lives in a Bel Air home with his mother, widow of the tragedian. He drives a black Cord car, with silvered trim. ("Better say 'chromium,'" he corrected us.) His telephone bill runs to forty-five dollars a month so you can figure out how many times it is used for dating and other 'de-lovely' occupations. He has his hair cut every two weeks by Bob Matz of the de luxe Westmore establishment, and he has to shave twice a day because his beard is so dark and heavy.

Monday night is usually spent at home, resting from weekend festivities. He writes letters to his friends-"All two of them." Tuesday night he may go bowling at the alleys on Wilshire Boulevard in Beverly and Wednesday night it?s probably dinner at the Tropics or the Hawaiian Paradise-he likes cafe settings to be equatorial, apparently-and a film at the Village Theater in Westwood. Wednesday night means nothing to him because Saturday night is his favorite dating night, so he probably eats out again with the girl friend, and looks in at someone's house. But not to play bridge. He doesn?t like cards.

Thursday night is another dining out night, so he and his mother, Mrs. Patia Power, find a cozy nook among the bamboos at the Tropics, probably, and chat away like old friends. Friday-well, Friday maybe someone is giving out with a part or he goes over to see Phyllis Brooks or Alice Faye or Loretta Young or Janet Gaynor, and has a few good clean laughs. Power and his girl friends are strong for laughs. That brings us to Saturday night which may man the Troc or the Grove, flowers and all the trimmings. Sometimes it?s a premiere and Tyrone and Sonia drive up in a bushing Dodge car, with chauffeur (loaned by the studio), while Tyrone's sleek Cord sulks at home in the garage. That?s always a laugh to this young bachelor. Sunday night, as we have inferred, is also a Troc night, informal, of course, but with the world's best entertainers entertaining the world's best entertainers.

Financially, our young bachelor's affairs are in the hands of one astute Francis D. Adams, called "Uncle Frank." He budgets Tyrone's salary, gives him an allowance, and sees that much of his salary goes into annuities. Already the twenty-three year old is owner of two apartment building, one in which he lived when was a lowcaste extra. He's no Croesus yet, but some day young Power is going to be a substantial member of the community. He is a sane, healthy, level-headed fellow, very much like the other members of this new crop of Hollywood bachelors. If you are unalterably determined to be up-to-the-minute bachelor you couldn't use a better model than Tyrone Power.