Veronica Lake was in my living room yesterday morning, poised and bored, with the lissome form of a young dancer and the dead eyes of.  . .well, the eyes of someone who’s seen her future.

Which, if you’re Veronica Lake, wouldn’t be a cheery vision.

Later the sultriest sex symbol of early 40s Hollywood, Constance Ockelman was kicked out of a Catholic Girl’s School for rebellious behavior (which seems to me indicative of both intelligence and possession of a spine).  Continue reading →