Hale to Williams (Photoplay, October 1946) by Helen Louise Walker It all happened-with certain additions--just as Barbara had dreamed of it, sitting under the apple tree back of her home in Rockford when she was twelve. She had known it would be in the beautiful little stone church at Rockton, just outside Rockford, Illinois, where she had seen so many friends married. She had known that her childhood pastor, the Reverend B. E. Allen (affectionately and irreverently nicknamed "Pappy" by Barbara when she was small) must officiate--and that all the aunts and uncles and cousins and in-laws and school friends would be on hand to help celebrate. It all came true, except that the dreaming little girl under the apple tree could never have guessed that she would be a motion-picture star and that she would be marrying a motion-picture star. But that's what happened. And in a way, you might go so far as to say it all came about because of a thunderstorm. It was an ordinary summer shower which drifted over Rockford that day. But Barbara rushed to the hall closet and hid her head behind the biggest coat she could find. Her uncle, whom she adored, came to coax her outside. "Get into your bathing suit. I'm going to show you something that's a lot of fun." Then he took her onto the lawn and taught her what fun it was to romp in a warm summer rain. He showed her how far away the lightning was, and how harmless was the noise it made. "You just go on out and face it," he explained, "and all your fear goes away. After a little bit, you find it's fun!" Barbara has never forgotten that. "Lots of times in my life I've wanted to hide in the closet from problems, new experiences, new responsibilities, but when I've forced myself to come out and face them, I've found the thunder far away and the experience fun." Barbara still has this practical theory. Yet, when you look at this girl who appeared in "Higher and Higher," "First Yank Into Tokyo" and now "Lady Luck," you think that anyone with a discerning eye must see that touch of something special about her. She had it even in the early days in Illinois when she sold frocks at the town drygoods store. There was the touch of magic then--there still is. Certainly it was through no plan or thought of hers that she finds herself in Hollywood today on the brink of motion-picture stardom. After all, she started to be a commercial artist enrolling at the Chicago Institute of Fine Arts and working at Marshall Field's to pay expenses. Other students insisted she model for them. Later, Al Seaman, head of the Chicago Models Bureau, sent her photograph to an RKO executive. He stopped in Chicago to see her--and two weeks later, through no plan of her own, she was Hollywood bound--complete with contract. Nor was it any scheme of hers to land a role in "West of the Pecos." That was strictly RKO's doing for which they later paid off handsomely with an exquisite wedding dress. For it was in that picture that Barbara met Bill Williams. Bill had to die in the picture and Barbie, watching him from the sidelines, burst into violent sobs over his make-believe demise, although she scarcely knew him. This called for a celebration. So Bill bought her a soda "to cheer her up" and the next day he bought her another and then he persuaded her to have dinner with him and after that everyone on the lot "knew about them." THEY get along so well! Only points of difference are her light-hearted lack of punctuality and untidiness and Bill's trying to break her of them. She is trying to teach Bill economy. "If you've ever been short of groceries," she says, "you'll know how important a dollar can be!" But she's not dismayed about it. Nothing dismays Barbie for very long and you have a feeling that nothing ever will. Perhaps "blithe" is the word that best describes her. Certainly she was blithe over her wedding, even to the planning. Rockford was as loyally excited as any other smallish mid-western town would be if one of its favorite daughters, having become famous, chose to return there for her wedding. Bill, who has no living relatives of his own (his father died when he was six and a few years later his mother died), was amazed that anyone could have so many. He stood up pretty well under all the concerted scrutiny and the relatives, the friends all seemed to approve of him. The Day came, two thousand or more people assembled around the church ... little boys climbed trees and fell out of them ... people aimed cameras ... they crowded, gossiped, smiled. Barbie was late. She "just couldn't quite get into her dress on time." Bill mislaid the ring (natch), hunted frantically, produced a small silver number he had brought along for just such a crisis--and then found the ring again. But Barbie arrived, the hush settled over the little church, the soft music sounded and, in what seemed like mere moments, the simple ceremony was completed. Probably the most "important" people present were her two little nieces, in their very first "formals," who had been permitted to sing a little song before the ceremony. There followed a wedding celebration with several hundred guests at "The Wagon Wheel," a charming, rustic inn near the church and everyone ate the traditional chicken and hot rolls. Barbie showed everyone Bill's present to her--a pair of gold earrings which had belonged to his mother. And Bill was ribbed properly about her present to him--a gold key to their new house in North Hollywood, attached to a wee gold ball and chain! Then something really charming transpired. No less than eight national news services had sent famous photographers and their assistants to cover this event, in addition to the people from the studio. But Barbie, still mindful of her twelve-year-old plans, took the entire wedding party, including parents, in-laws, nieces and so on, to the local "photograph gallery" which is run by an old friend, and there she had wedding pictures made, just like any other local girl. THEN the hectic honeymoon began. Barbara collapsed momentarily when she went home to change into her pert little black gabardine "going-away outfit." "I felt," she says, "as if every drop of blood had drained from me--as if I simply could not move another inch." But--what she actually did was to pull herself together, get into her clothes--and away they went (part of her relatives accompanying them) to Chicago to another bridal party with another cake at the Palmer House where Stuart Morgan, Bill's erstwhile vaudeville partner, was appearing. Stu had served as best man at the wedding. They occupied the bridal suite at the Palmer House and then they took off for Newport News by air. They were "bumped off" the plane at Washington, D. C., so they rented a car and drove from ten at night until five the next morning to reach the home of their friends at Newport News. This time the little bride actually did collapse and was put to bed for two whole days and allowed to speak to no one excepting Bill--and only briefly to him. A week or so later they took to the air again, bound for New York. But Washington seemed to be their jinx city and this time high winds beset them and the plane came within inches of landing smack in the water. So they finished the trip to New York by train and there Bill's dreams began to come true. One of them was a suite at the Plaza overlooking the Park--he had dreamed of that for years and they had four days of it. Four days of pinching themselves and wondering whether it really could be true--the night clubs they had read about and which glittered just as brightly as they had thought they would--a luncheon for the press, with themselves the bemused centers of attention. They found themselves also the stars-of-honor at an RKO convention taking place in the big city and by this time Barbara's incredulous smile, denoting "How nice can people be?" was becoming as much a fixture on her as Bill's had been on him for a week or two. Then back they went to Newport News where a new car was awaiting them. As this is written they are probably somewhere between Orlando, Florida, and New Orleans, Louisiana, holding their breaths for fear RKO will be paging Barbara to return to start "Trail Town," opposite Randolph Scott. If that doesn't happen, they hope to visit Rockford again, briefly, in a more relaxed atmosphere which will allow Bill really to become acquainted with his in-laws. And they still hope for a scoot up to Yellowstone Park. Then home to the little house where they'll begin the permanency that Barbara has always wanted--a permanency touched by the miracle which is their deep young love. THE END