About four months ago, out of 20th Century-Fox studios in Hollywood, a knotty casting headache loomed. The biggest picture of the year, 'In Old Chicago,' as preparing to shoot. It demanded a rare cast combination. The O'Leary boys, Jack and Dion, were brothers, closer than close. They had to look like one another, act like one another, reveal on the screen a sympathy and understanding minus any trace of unconvincing fake. What's more, since 'In Old Chicago' was Darryl Zanuck's big prestige spectacle, both had to be top-flight stars.

You could have combed Hollywood for athe order without any luck. But they filled it in two minutes right there on the lot. They filled it because Don Ameche and Tyrone Power had met back four years ago in a Chicago radio station and had both instantly felt the electric spark of a great friendship.

There is something uncanny about that friendship-something so fine and strong that only by knowing about it can you realize what swell guys this Ameche and this Power are. Because it just isn't' the sort of friendship that flourishes in Hollywood. It has no right to exist at all. By all the laws of nature Don Ameche and Tyrone Power should go out of their ways to avoid each other, should have nothing but ill to say of each other, should lie awake nights to think up ways of doing the other out of his heart's desire.

Plenty of pals and famous friendships are scattered throughout Hollywood and radio. But there is none like the friendship of Don Ameche and Tyrone Power, tested and tempered by the keenest kind of competition which started the minute they met and exists to this day. What is so remarkable is that instead of straining their friendship to the breaking point, each new conflict between their careers has served only to bring them closer together, assure each of them once more of the other's worth.

Don and Ty have actually become better friends every time Fate has tossed their careers into a squared circle and hammered the gong.

It was that way in Chicago, four years ago, when Ty landed there on his way to New York and hit the radio studios for work. He had promise. Producers told him so. Everybody was for him. But he stayed in minor radio parts because-Don Ameche was in Chicago, too.

And at last Tyrone Power left Chicago-and radio-because of Don Ameche.

You see, in those days this young Power-house had only a name handed down from his dad. He was nobody. Tyrone was a tyro; new, raw, young, unseasoned. He had a good voice, a swell air personality, but they were a dime a dozen. There weren't' so many dramatic shows on the air, and when sponsors wanted to start a new one they didn't care about gambling on somebody the air audience had never heard of.

On the other hand, Don Ameche was an established star and a big radio name. Time and again Ty struggled up to the brink of a contract that would give him his chance, but always, somehow, there was Don Ameche in the way. The First Nighter went on the air. Don Ameche got the star spot. And Ty drew a bit on the same show. Don Ameche went on to become the most popular dramatic star on the airwaves and Tyrone Power-well, there's a little story about his exit from radio.

He got a call one day for a broadcasting job. Calls didn't come very regularly then and Ty didn't eat very regularly either. So he was inclined to take whatever showed up in the way of work. This time the spot was on a homely program we'll call 'Uncle Bob,' because it wasn't 'Uncle Bob.'

Ty showed up in a studio room covered with newspapers. Uncle Bob greeted him warmly.

'Well,' he said, 'let's go on the air.'

'Okay,' said Ty, 'where's the script?'

'Script?' Uncle Bob shook his head. 'We don't use any script. Here-' he handed Ty a sheaf of colored comic sections. 'We just read these.'

Ty checked his amazement and swallowed his pride; he needed the job. But when he had finished emoting from 'Red Barry,' 'Buck Rogers,' 'Tarzan' and 'Flash Gordon,' he stamped home in disgust.

'A fine business for an actor,' he told himself, 'reading funny papers! Nuts to radio!'

The next day he packed his things and caught the train to New York. Don Ameche wished him good luck and told him goodbye.

The next time they met both were in Hollywood.

History, of course, has a way of repeating itself. But in the case of Tyrone Power and Don Ameche, it is nothing short of startling the way the situation existing years before in Chicago set itself up exactly the same way in Hollywood.

Ty had gone to New York, starved and pounded the pavements and landed-in a fairly modest way. A break with Katherine Cornell brought him before the movie scouts; his screen test was okayed and Darryl Zanuck put him on the payroll. But hundreds of young actors get movie contracts every year. And darned few stick. Ty had nothing really but a chance when he came to Hollywood. That was in May.

But in March, two months before, Zanuck had signed another screen unknown, a radio actor who had knocked them cold on the air, and this actor had proceeded immediately to knock them colder on the screen in 'Ramona.' To 20th Century-Fox then this was the greatest possible good fortune, because that studio and an enormous production schedule, but practically no box-office stars outside of Shirley Temple.

To say that Don Ameche was the fair-haired boy of the lot is putting it mildly; he was Prince Charming rescuing a damsel in distress.

Tyrone Power chose this of all moments to come not only to Hollywood but-of all places-to 20th Century-Fox. And the guy he was gladdest to see and who was tickled to death to see him was his old best friend and professional nemesis-Don Ameche!

They hadn't seen each other since Ty had come through Chicago in a road company. And even if Ty had any idea of the setup he was bucking it didn't make five cents' worth of difference. They celebrated.

The strangest thing about the friendship of Don and Ty is that it has flourished and rooted deeper in the face of things that, as I said, usually bury friendship six feet deep. They weren't nearly the pals in Chicago that they have become in Hollywood. And nowhere have two friends been thrown into fiercer competition for success.

All the choice parts In the big pictures were tagged 'Don Ameche.' Ty drew what was left. It was exactly as it had been in Chicago. They put him in a thankless bit in 'Girls' Dormitory.' Why not? He was an unknown quantity; no name in the movie sense. And Don had fan mail piling up like a Roosevelt landslide. There wasn't anything either one of them could do about it.

Yet this was the time when Don and Ty really came to know each other and cement their friendship in a hundred ways.

The busy whirl of Hollywood, multiple careers and the demands of success keep don and Ty apart more now than then. Ty, of course, is a bachelor while don is the most married man you ever saw, and completely happy around his home and family. But I the first months that both were exposed to this strange and wonderful new world, neither had many other friends; consequently they saw each other constantly.

The Ameches then, as now, were inveterate diners out. Don is perfectly domestic in every respect but dinners; he likes bright lights and music for relaxation after a day on the set or in the studio.

Naturally Ty, being a bachelor and alone, was the perfect dinner third. The threesome became a foursome when a girl-blonder even than Don's wife, Honore-started coming along with Ty. She had been with Don in 'One in a Million.' Her name was Sonja Henie.

All the time, though they never mentioned it, things were heading toward a showdown for Don and Ty at the studio.

One day it happened.

Don was called din to make a test for the big picture of the year. 'Lloyds of London.' At the same time, Ty was called din to test for the same part. Don didn't know Ty was being tested; he supposed the part was cinch for himself. He was pretty happy about it too. Ty had no idea Don was being tested; if he had had he would have considered it no use.

'So they both made their tests. That night they all met for dinner. Neither mentioned 'Lloyds.'

That happened twice.

There was no decision from the first tests. Studio big wigs couldn't make up their minds. They decided to try both young actors again.

Don ad Ty went through a second set of tests. Don still hadn't the faintest doubt he was slated for the part, was still ignorant that Ty was being tested too. Ty, on the other hand, suspected his competition now and considered his case hopeless. On his way around the lot he hid his costume wig in his coat when he saw Don coming. He felt guilty somehow competing with Don Ameche for a part; he didn't want Don to know.

Out of 20th Century-Fox, a lot of people remember the day in the Gold Room of the Caf' de Paris when Tyrone Power came in and sat down beside Don Ameche to tell him the news. He came up bashfully, almost apologetically, with the boyish grin that s part of his charm on his face. They had just told him the part was his. But to Ty it didn't seem quite right. He couldn't get over the idea that Don should have had first choice.

If he had any fears, and he did, as to how Don would take it they quickly vanished. F don had any disappointment, and he did have, he buried it beneath an honest smile. He jumped up and slapped Ty on the back while the whole room watched.

'Boy,' he said, 'if you don't go to town in that picture, I'll murder you!'

Of course, Ty did. Now both are established stars. But professionally competition still haunts their friendship.

It has pitted them against each other already in three pictures, 'Ladies in Love,' 'Love is News' and now 'In Old Chicago.' They've traded socks and fought for the girl all day long and then laughed about in in the evenings. They've stayed pals in spite of everything.

It's uncanny, though, how the haunt chases them-even onto the air. Don, of course, is the top regular radio dramatic star on the Chase and Sanborn Hour, Sunday nights on NBC's Red Network. On October third, Ty makes his big time air debut, starring in a dramatic half hour of popular plays of Woodbury's Soap. Every Sunday he will go on the air only a split second after Don Ameche signs off-and on the Blue Network, making it necessary for you to tune out Don's last words to hear Ty's first.

Two things that have bound them together in the face of the ordinary career competition are two things you seldom associate with each other-religion and common uproarious sense of humor. Both Ty and Don are devout Roman Catholics; both were education in church seminaries, and both find religion an important factor in their lives today. Not that they're stuffy about it.

In fact, the other day a group of Shriners visited the 20th Century-Fox lot and came around to the set where Don and Ty were talking to a Jesuit priest, brought out from St. Louis to check up on certain aspects of 'In Old Chicago.' The Shriners wanted to meet the boys, so they slipped off to chat and post with them winking to one another at what the good Father would think if he knew he had been deserted for a bunch of Masons!

The two most gorgeous grins in Hollywood are enough to warrant their funny bones, but if you need proof, you can ask Alice Faye. Alice suffered good-naturedly all through 'You Can't Have Everything' when Don discovered she made a swell subject for the ribs and jokes he loves to work. But when Ty and Don teamed up on her in 'In Old Chicago' she decided to do something about it.

The other day Ty entered his trailer dressing room and dived right out again to escape a suffocating odor of garlic which had been liberally smeared all over everything. He found tell-tale traces of La Faye and consulted with Don. They immediately lured Alice over to the trailer on pretenses of a party, shoved her in and locked the door. The garlic and the California sun hitting around a hundred did the rest. And while Alice stewed in her own salad dressing, Don and Ty hustled over and played Texas tornado with her frocks and lacy unmentionables, using lipstick for color effects on the walls and rug.

Now they're all swiping official stationery for Darryl Zanuck's office to write each other severe notes on the respective raids.

Off the lot both Ty and Don continue to lead lives as far apart as the two poles. They get together to bowl occasionally-Ty always wins-but Ty still glories in single blessedness and keeps busy playing the field.

Don, on the other hand has gathered all the relatives he can find around him at his Encino estate. There he presides like an old time patriarch in all his spare time, such as it is, and loves it. He admits freely he couldn't get along without his wife, Honore. She makes his appointments, orders his food, approves his clothes, goes with him everywhere-he'd be lost without her. And of curse the two Ameche hopefuls, Donny and Ronny, are two bid reasons behind that famous Ameche smile.

Such overpowering domestic bliss close at hand is always subtly dangerous to a bachelor. So far Ty hasn't shown any signs of weakening, but the other day out at Don's Donny and Ronny climbed up on his knees, and these two cherubic specimens of married bliss caused Ty to heave a deep sigh.

'You know, Don,' he said, 'these kids are great. I wouldn't mind trying this marriage stuff I you'd tell me the combination.'

Bu Sonja Henie might have something to say about that.

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