Newspaper Page Text
Copyright, 1913, by the Star Company. Great Britain Rights Reserved.
3
Moral: Don’t Be Perfect; Just Be Human
T HE extraordinary matrimonial situation de
scribed on this page by the wife herself, ap
pears to have no parallel, and no precedent
in history. To be “too perfect for marriage” sounds
like a paradox. Yet here are a husband and wife
whose carefully planned and faithfully executed
“perfections” at last got on each other’s nerves to
an extent that each found the Other’s presence un
endurable. It is not to be wondered at that these
same habits of “perfection” stand in the way of a
divorce, now being sought for the fourth time.
Mr. and Mrs. Lean had enjoyed for nearly a de
cade the reputation of having effectually disproved
the theory that marriage within the theatrical pro
fession cannot be successful. How their one mistake
was in attempting to maintain a more than human
standard of perfection is graphically told—with its
obvious moral—in the wife’s narrative,
By FLORENCE HOLBROOK
(No Longer “Dovey”) t
The Centipede was happy, quite,
Until the Frog, in fun.
Said: "Which leg follow's after which?”—
And so perpelxed the hapless wight
He lay a-kicking in the ditch
A-wondering how to run.
—High School Psychology.
Lt!\ 0VEY ” AND “DOVEY”—1 mean Mr. and Mrs.
Cecil Lean—are floundering in their separate
domestic ditches, with no present prospect ot
getting out, either as “the most perfect married couple
on the stage,” or as free and independent individuals.
Too much psychology—that’s the trouble. A matri
monial standard pitched in too high a key at the start.
Too many plans and promises and compacts and agree
ments to start perfect and stay perfect. Too much
effort to maintain the standard. You can’t be perfect
and human at one and the same time—especially after
marriage. We held ourselves in our stiff-necked course
of perfection until we couldn’t endure each other.
We separated. What was the use? The habit of
perfection could not be shaken off—we’re so perfect
that we can’t get a divorce.
Goodness gracious! hasn’t there been enough said
and printed about it? About “Lovey” and “Dovey,"
otherwise Florence Holbrook and Cecil Lean, who got
married and proceeded to overturn all the traditions of
the impossibility of married stage people living happy
“ever after?”
That was ten years ago. Nobody can say that we
didn’t make a brave struggle. For a couple of years we
believed we would have the whole acting profession
Florence
Holbrook
in a
Thought
ful
Attitude
comfortably reformed on the "for better or worse" lire-
side companion model—all the husbands and wives
members of each other’s companies, and autocratic
managers forever shamed from tearing wedded actors
assunder for whole long seasons. For several more
years we succeeded in fooling the outsiders—and then,
ghastly weary of each other’s perfections, it was all off.
Why didn’t some experienced relative slap us well
and remind us that “to err is human?” That marriage
is for human beings, that perfection is necessarily celi
bate? Why didn’t some kind person head us off? Why
weren’t we arrested? Just read the list of impossible
things we swore we’d do and wouldn’t do:
1. It is our marriage; no interference from rela
tives, blood or “in-law.”
2. We will remain to
gether in our work—man
agers will have to engage
both or neither.
3. We will permit no
professional jealously to
come between us—if one
gets more applause or
press notices than the
other both shall rejoice
equally.
4. We shall not be sep
arated in our pastimes;
there shall be harmony in
the choice of recreations
which both can enjoy.
5. If either develops
annoying habits or man
nerisms the other shall
be considerate and not
notice them.
6. We agree never to
argue with each other;
each shall respect the
other’s opinions.
Mr. Lean “Lovey” Wearing the
Smile That Miss Holbrook Yearn
ed to “Come Off.”
IF YOU WANT
TO FIND OUT
WHO IS BOSS
JUST START
SOMETHING
“The
smile
pursued
her.”
qcfi.ru
f
7. There shall be no personal criticism of each
other—especially in the presence of outsiders.
8. If a harsh remark or angry retort leaps to the
lips of either, he or she shall remain silent until the
impulse has subsided.
9. Each toward the other shall be courteous and
considerate in all circumstances, at all times;
Signed, sealed, sworn to and delivered—and then we
visited the Little Church Around the Corner. Better,
tor better if we had been arrested and haled to'Police
Headquarters and sent to the Psychopathic Ward for
observation as to our sanity. However, as that would
have meant a long term in Matteawan at public ex-"
pense, perhaps it was just as well that our punishment
was permitted to fit the crime.
We went to Philadelphia to rejoin the company in
which both of us were principals. We had not confided
in the company for two reasons. First, we wished to
make no parade of our example at the start, but to let
it sink in subtly and gradually. Second, Mr. Frank
Daniels, the star, was notoriously opposed to having
husbands and their own wives acting with him, and we
naturally desired a breathing spell before testing Clause
No. 2.
Alas! it had been necessary for us to get, the sage
director’s permission to remain over one train in New
York, and we found our letter boxes on the stage
crammed witr telegrams of congratulation. Clause
No. 2 received its test then and there. Mr. Daniels
glared at us, snorted once or twice, and sedulously re
frained from noticing us except as “Miss Holbrook’’ and
“Mr. Lean.”
As time went on our perfection was recognized
among our professional associates—except by certain
managers. We became “Lovey” and “Dovey.” I am sure
that the rank and file of our profession were sincere in
desiring to see us triumph. We steadily refused to be
separated in our work. Managers got to telling each
other:
“No use. They’re ’Lovey’ and ‘Dovey.’ You can’t pry
’em apart.”
There is no doubt that we sacrificed several oppor
tunities to add to our individual earnings and our in
dividual professional reputation in order to remain to
gether in our work and live up to Perfection No. 2. I can
not remember that his relation or mine ever interfered
with us—which kept No. 1 intact. As for No. 3, the
bulk or our press notices being about “Lovey” and
“Dovey” and their worthy example to the theatrical
profession, and our applause pretty fairly shared, we
had really no grounds for professional jealousy.
“Denied speech that
would arouse domestic
spats, she brought aggra
vating signs home—and
even they had no effect.”
Neither were there many
pitfalls hidden in No. 4.
We were both fond of out
door sports. We sailed and
motored togther, and could
play tennis and golf with
each other without getting angry and violating No. 8—
though occasionally by dint of protracted silences be
tween us. I was not addicted to the pink tea habit, no r
was he over fond of his club. Not much of a strain,
our perfection thus far.
But, oh, those fatal Nos. 5, 6, 7 and 9:
"Annoying habits or mannerisms.”
“Nover argue—respect each other’s opinions.”
“No personal criticism.”
"Courteous and considerate, etc., at all times.”
Don’t imagine that we didn’t, or did, or weren’t.
That is where the whole trouble lay. Even in hese
last named impossibilities of married life we forced
ourselves to be perfect. Imagine not arguing with your
own lawfully wedded husband. Or not reminding him
of his annoying habits. Or refraining from criticising
his ridiculous mannerisms. Or being always courteous
and considerate though married!
But we did it. We were perfect, as we declared we
would be.
And then, all of a sudden, we realized that we would
simply have to bethuman or quit!
It was the trifles that it was hardest to be perfect
about—being considerate, remaining silent about little
personal characteristics which were a constant source
of irritation. He had a habit of always being last. If
there was five minutes in which to catch a train he
would risk missing it in order to do something quite
unnecessary. I dare say I had little habits which
annoyed him quite as much.
Once there was a wife who left her husband because
his glass eye got on her nerves.
Another loving couple separated because of an argu
ment about which end of the breakfast boiled egg should
be broken—the large end or the small end.
I actually believe that a glass eye in the family, or
a real good, human, matrimonial argument about a
boiled egg would have been our salvation.
In order to realize our perfection ideal we kept all
our little differences and resentments and perfectly
natural little argumentative and critical inclinations
bottled up. The accumulation at length made us un
bearable to each other. We were too perfect to have it
out and clear the atmosphere.
For quiet a long while we kept on working together.
"Lean and Holbrook” sang and danced and made love
ro each other professionally. They continued to be
“Lovey” and “Dovey” on the stage—but nowhere else.
They were on each other’s nerves quite hopelessly.
Once, twice, three times, they tried to become di
vorced. Alas! they were too perfect. His Honor, the
Judge, could find no flaw in them!
They contemplate another attempt—perhaps “on
grounds of incompatibility of perfections.” Otherwise
the case seems hopeless.
Don’t think me flippant or careless in these remarks.
1 never was more serious in ray life. It is such a seri
ous matter that I feel like warning all young persons
contemplating matrimony that that state is not for the
perfect, or those wro have a passion for perfection, but
for those who are simply human beings, and otherwise
eligible.
“Whal on earth
can we do,” asks
Miss Holbrook—
(This Is Charming
Miss Holbrook
Completely Surrounded by Her
Question)—‘The only way to
be happy if married is not to
think about it.”
Famous Fashions from Mistakes
O NE of the kings of France came to
the throne a child of. ten; he
wore his hair in long ringlets
all about his head. Immediately
the men and women of the court
did likewise, and it became the nation
wide craze. This same monarch was bald
at thirty, and, being a lover of things
beautiful and feminine, ordered the elab
orate wig which was taken up and rev
elled in, during many reigns.
The- feather boa originated less than
twenty years ago in conservative Boston.
In ari idle moment an apprentice in a mil
liner’s shop sewed the discarded bits and
ends of poor plumes together and strung
them about her neck. The. other girls
laughed at the trimming; the head of the
department declared them pretty, and the
order was given that no castaways in the
form of plumes be thrown in the waste
basket. All parts of the plumes were kept.,
sewed onto a ribbon, and the entire thing
curled, the long ribbon loops put at each
end—and this creation was the means of
bringing that woman into prominence,
and it has gained in success each season
since.
The origin of the beauty spot is no less
interesting. The Duchess do Montmorril-
lon, suffering with a boil on her cheek, re
sorted to putting on a bit of blarl: mix
ture. which she had been told held grea
curative power. In the morning she either
forgot to w'ash her face, or did not use
enough care—so the tale goes—and ap
peared before the world with a face
spotted. Powdered and perfumed she re
ceived her callers, and they found the
accidental black spot charming, so much
so that before night had come they au-
nointed their faces with the black oint
ment.
The pannier of to-day was in great vogue
the latter pari of the eighteenth century.
The introduction was brought about by
mere accident. A very petite maid of one
of the well-known actresses of that day
was in the habit of pulling her outer skirt
up, so that when she knelt in arranging
milady’s habit it wouldn’t soil or wrinkle
the skirt. The actress, noticing the attrac
tive appearance she made with her outer
skirt rolled up about her hips adopted the
costume.
The late King Edward, when he was the
Ptince of Wales, set-and introduced many
fads and fancies. As a younger man he
was somewhat stockily built, and the high
pointed linen collars, in vogue at thatj
time, would irritate him in the extreme)
One night ho purposely grasped the points,
bent them over, and it didn’t take long for,
the English dressers to find the scheme an
excellent and practical one, adopt it, and
make way for our present turn-down col
lars.
Too Perfect for Marriage!
Divorce!
WHAT ON EARTH WILL
LOVEY'LEAN—'DOVEY'HOLBROOK DO
Here Is Mrs. “Dovey” Lean’s Own Story—
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tu-
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