Marisa Wayne

He was the biggest box office attraction in motion picture history, his heroic screen image already gaining mythic proportions when John Wayne and his family moved to Newport Beach in 1965. Harbor tour boats would regularly stop in front of the sprawling Wayne house, passengers straining to catch a glimpse of the aging Ringo Kid sitting out on his patio. And while he would privately grouse, "Hell, I have to wear my wig--I can't even come out in my front yard," he'd always wave and shout hello.

He was the biggest box-office attraction in motion-picture history, his heroic screen image already gaining mythic proportions when John Wayne and his family moved to Newport Beach in 1965. Harbor tour boats regularly stopped in front of the sprawling Wayne house, passengers straining to catch a glimpse of the aging Ringo Kid sitting out on his patio. And while he would privately grouse, "Hell, I have to wear my wig--I can't even come out in my front yard," he always waved and shouted hello.

He was the biggest box-office attraction in motion-picture history, his heroic screen image already gaining mythic proportions when John Wayne and his family moved to Newport Beach in 1965. Harbor tour boats regularly stopped in front of the sprawling Wayne house, passengers straining to catch a glimpse of the aging Ringo Kid sitting out on his patio. And while he would privately grouse, "Hell, I have to wear my wig--I can't even come out in my front yard," he always waved and shouted hello.

He was the biggest box office attraction in motion picture history, his heroic screen image already gaining mythic proportions when John Wayne and his family moved to Newport Beach in 1965. Harbor tour boats would regularly stop in front of the sprawling Wayne house, passengers straining to catch a glimpse of the aging Ringo Kid sitting out on his patio. And while he would privately grouse, "Hell, I have to wear my wig--I can't even come out in my front yard," he'd always wave and shout hello.

"Ten more minutes and I would've jumped in the fountain," said John Wayne's daughter, Melinda, after the marriage Saturday of Wayne's youngest daughter, Marisa. Melinda spoke as, praise the Lord, the reflecting pool that decorates the center aisle at the Crystal Cathedral began to hiss with turquoise geysers, sending spray onto sweltering guests (many of whom fanned themselves with Crystal Cathedral postcards during the scorching, 20-minute ceremony).

Jimmy's parking garage in Beverly Hills, with masses of white lights overhead, was a wonderland for John Wayne Cancer Institute's holiday-spirited dinner dance honoring its benefactors. And there were lots of wonders to behold--including zillions, it seemed, of Waynes, all dedicated to finding a cure in memory of actor John Wayne, who died of cancer in 1979. The family's persistence in finding benefactors, coupled with institute leadership by President Dr.

To old Hollywood, he was the Tin Man's son, but to new Hollywood, Jack Haley Jr. was known as the prince of Tinseltown, a title he relished. Haley, who died in April at age 67, was a movie buff whose productions included the 1974 hit film "That's Entertainment." The Thalians, a show-biz philanthropic group Haley helped establish in 1955, paid tribute to his memory at its 46th annual ball Oct. 13 at the Century Plaza Hotel.

Orange County society won't be crying in their Dom Perignon when they say "see ya" to the '80s. It's been a vintage decade for the glitz-set. For starters, the Orange County Performing Arts Center opened in 1986, giving the glitterati a stylish new way to spend an evening: First, they dress to kill.

Extraordinary. A party so jinxed by the weather is one of Los Angeles' premiere affairs of the year--the Huntington Society of Fellows annual Christmas party. Last weekend 360 were supposed to have dined on Chasen's lobster bisque, roast chicken and pear Belle Helene under a tent on the lawn in front of the Huntington Library a few steps from the Art Gallery. Wouldn't you know, it rained.

After the 1987-88 televangelist scandals, it was no surprise that the Rev. Robert Schuller's weekly "Hour of Power" emerged atop the religious programming heap. The glass on the Crystal Cathedral was barely smudged during the "holy wars" period, but every preacher's moral and financial integrity was scrutinized. As a result, the Garden Grove pastor dropped from a high of 2 million viewers in 1986 to about 1.3 million, and he sounded the alarm for emergency donations last Christmastime.

"Ten more minutes and I would've jumped in the fountain," said John Wayne's daughter, Melinda, after the marriage Saturday of Wayne's youngest daughter, Marisa. Melinda spoke as, praise the Lord, the reflecting pool that decorates the center aisle at the Crystal Cathedral began to hiss with turquoise geysers, sending spray onto sweltering guests (many of whom fanned themselves with Crystal Cathedral postcards during the scorching, 20-minute ceremony).