IT WASNT the first time for either of them that day three years ago when Alice Faye added Harris to her name. She’d been throughall that front-page stuff with Tony Martin. Phil, in a less public way, had had his heart broken, too. So now they, were trying again, and they really meant it. You could tell that from the way Alice told reporters, “He’s a million times more important than my career.”
From the way Phil couldn’t take his eyes off her for more than seconds at a time. This time it was for keeps . . . That’s the kind of atmosphere baby Alice came into, and now at 18 months, she reflects the serenity, the happiness—and the flair for the dramatic of her mom and pop. Already she’s learned that cameras are to be mugged into, and there’s not an emotion unportrayable by her chubby little face. “What a ham,” Phil grins, thinking she’s just another Bernhardt. He thinks she’s another Gloria Callen, too, ’cause she takes to their swimming-pool like a 32-pound duck and goes into a darn good Australian crawl on dry land. “She’s a fearless character,” he brags further. Is crazy about the Harris’s “goggies” (huge German shepherds) and is constantly thumbing rides on their backs. . . . You can see what Alice is talking about when she tells you that all the fame and fortune in Hollywood can’t make up for what she’s missing at home; when she tells you she hopes next year to make just one good sophisticated comedy, and have the rest of the time for pampering Phil and watching the moppet become a subdeb. Alice Faye, the song plugger de luxe, the sweetheart of every music publisher in America, craving didie-changing—and more babies! At first it sounds strange, but then you remember how she and Phil longed for their kid. How, when the baby was coming, they went on the wagon for the duration; went to bed on the dot of ten. You remember that Phil insisted on holding Alice’s hand in the delivery room, and said hearing young Alice’s first cry the biggest thrill of his life. When you recall all this, it doesn’t seem strange at all. It’s just that Alice, hard-broiled and wise-cracking, but underneath it all, an awful softie, has traded a torch song for a love song, and found it a good swap. That rumor, by the way, that Alice would retired from the screen ain’t true at all, thank Heaven. We need you, Mom Alice.