The Washington times. [volume], January 29, 1938, Page 22, Image 22

About The Washington times. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1902-1939

Image provided by: Library of Congress, Washington, DC

                
22
"Us" ‘Man Most Likely to Succeed’ •By james Montgomery flagg
WRFiBI jjf ggHU
fe M Wwlr
SlwA Xv \ c
HwftWmxw / 7 yz\\ \ i i wE%%x n^^milUilflfllu l
\ '
■1 '\ / \ •. Im!|
B-x ° JkU u 1
/If
• Ltiftr Syndicalt W/[[[[[ J / y /1 l\
SWELEANOR POWELL, QUEEN OF TAPS, TOOK UP DANCING TO CONQUER SHYNESS
Star Cried All the Way Home After
Taking Her First Tap Lesson
When Six Years Old
Eleanor Powell, who has tapped her way to the top
most rung of fame's ladder, has this unusual “angle” on
her skyrocketing career to stardom.
“The most important thing that my dancing did for me
was not to gain me fame, but to help me gain myself,” she
declared the other day.
Those who have worked with her on the Metro-Goldwyn-
Mayer lot say she is the only person they’ve ever met who
didn’t have the least trace of any sort of complex, either in
feriority or superiority.
Yet when she took her first dancing lesson at the age of 6,
she was so bashful and frightened that she was almost
afraid of her own shadow.
HAS KNOWN HARDSHIPS
She has known economic
hardships, too. When she was
11 months old, her mother had
to find work to support her
child. Springfield. Mass., where
Eleanor was born and where
they continued to live, does not
of*er many shining opportuni
ties for a woman to progress
startlingly in business. So those
first years were defined by a
certain measure of deprivation.
But even then Mrs. Powell,
In her mother-heart, knew that
some day this small daughter
of hers would have everything,
including fame.
Eleanor grew into a shy child.
She was afraid of strangers,
sought the company of her
mother, or sat alone, rather than
play with the neighborhood
children.
When she was entered in
school her fears seemed to in
crease.
Wisely her mother sought
some key which would unlock
the child’s mind to the world.
Dancing lessons seemed the ob
vious solution. Eleanor today
still remembers vividly that first
hour at dancing school. She
says:
CRIED ALL WAY HOME
“After that lesson was over I
ran home as fact as I could,
crying all the way.”
The next day wasn’t so diffi
cult. Then, gradually, she be
gan to look forward to those
hours of dancing. She had a
natural aptitude for the art,
and at the end of three weeks
was the shining light of the
class.
When Mrs. Powell regretfully
gave notice that Eleanor was to
be withdrawn from the class be
cause of financial troubles, the
Telephone RE pubtie 1234
teacher begged her to reconsider.
Even in the short month she had
been with him, he told her, Elea
nor had shown that she had
great dancing talent, and that
if her training continued, she
would go far some day.
DIFFICULTIES OVERCOME
Somehow the family budget
was juggled. Somehow Mrs.
Powell cut new corners, saved
a penny here, and another
there. And Eleanor remained
under Ralph McKernan’s in
struction.
The summer Eleanor was 12,
her mother took her to Atlantic
City for a holiday visit with her
grandparents. The child was in
her glory. The beach was
smooth and solid enough to be
the perfect practice place for
her acrobatic routines.
From sunrise until the Board
walk lights came on, Eleanor was
on the sand; her every move
ment was a dancing step; her
every thought was on dancing.
Soon the sun-browned child
in her brief bathing suit was
attracting attention from the
holidaying crowd. She was no
longer the shy six-year-old who
would have fled in terror from
even an audience of one.
Atlantic City is the mecca
for tired Broadway. Here theat
rical agents, play producers and
writers, actors and managers
come for a brief vacation.
MEETS GUS EDWARDS
So it came to pass that a
theatrical agent, attracted one
morning by a crowd, shouldered
his way through and saw Elea
nor at her morning exercises.
Gus Edwards, famous producer
of children’s revues, was in town
also, and the agent went to find
I- •' '
..... .....
xuaL -
a-
Jb ? A • X? W* " W
x. ’• • . . A \ i / / -■* wSfep
M-'- | ft %. \ \ J W j",
' I W YAMr ■
W lllr x \ \ ]| |L.--u!
W 8 wh fl :J -A
■ ■aßbi IfL . ■■■ BHl'Wk'i ..<
.■'■ HL' X
tx K - y
t " Bk - " "
b 40
’ ' ' -'A . BjjL WAA 1
■A .. AAAxYSaSvAAA?’' ' '* , <jjiS'®'’w . . Z't-, •
THERE’S NO stopping Eleanor Powell. When she
strained a tendon in her left leg recently, she had a doll
brought to her bedside, and manipulated it to work out a
brand-new dance routine. She will show that routine—
him and report his discovery.
Gus had been handling chil
dren for years. He knows talent
when he sees it. In Eleanor he
saw ? future dancing star.
EARNS HER SCHOOLING
He introduced himself to Mrs.
Powell and asked that the
youngster be permitted to dance
professionally. He suggested that
she make an appearance each
night at the Ritz Grill, a fash
ionable Atlantic City rendez
vous. Her program was to last
five minute^—but it never did.
Each night the appreciative au
dience demanded encores until
she was on the floor thrice her
scheduled time.
And so by day Eleanor danced
THE WASHINGTON TIMES, SATURDAY, JANUARY, 29, 1938
on the beach. Each night she
danced in the club. For several
summers she followed this plan,
earning money not only for her
yc!ar in school, but for her sum
mer’s holiday.
“When I was 16 I finished
high school in Springfield, Mass.
It was then that mother decided
that I should either go into danc
ing for my life’s work or con
tinue with college and settle
down to some other occupation,”
says Eleanor.
“It took me 10 seconds to
make up my mind. In fact, just
enough in which to say ‘Danc
ing.’
‘Strangely enough, mother’s
answer was: ’I guess you were
born to dance,’ which happens
and a lot of other original steps, too—in Washington to
night when she appears as a guest performer for the
President’s birthday celebration to aid the fight against
infantile paralysis.
to be the title of one of my pic
tures.”
TURN TO BROADWAY
So there came a night when
Eleanor and her mother counted
their dollars, looked' at each
other in hope and in courage.
The decision was made. They
turned their feet and their
eyes to Broadway.
On their arrival in the
Metropolis, they were be
wildered, confused—but not for
a moment were they frightened.
They began their rounds of
theatrical agencies, of pro
ducers’ offices. Everywhere the
answer was the same: Yes, her
acrobatic and ballet routines
were interesting. But could she
tap-darce?
Eleanor could not, and Broad
way, at that time, was especially
intrigued by tap-dancing. With
out tap-dancing she might as
well go home.
CUT LUNCH FOR LESSONS
“Mother and I looked over
our slim budget. ‘We must
have money for those lessons,’
she said. ‘Why not cut down
on lunch? We’re getting too
stout anyway.’ So we managed
to scrape S2O together and I
went in search of a teacher. A
friend suggested that I see Jack
Donahue, who had a studio just
off Broadway. We got together
Ttlephona REpublie 1234
Won Engagement in Night Club After
Agent Saw Her "Step" On
' Atlantic City Beach
on a deal and I was to get 10
lessons, at $2 a lesson.
“When I was ready to try my
luck on Broadway for the sec
ond time, I found that it was
wise to hire an agent. I found
Billy Grady.’’
For seven months Grady
turned down offer after offer
for Eleanor’s dancing feet. They
were small roles, roles which
might keep her inconspicuous
for years. And for Eleanor,
Grady felt, it must be instant
recognition, or she would find
herself minus an important
career.
RIGID ECONOMY NEEDED
Mother and daughter found
dozens of short-cuts to economy.
They walked long distances to
save car fares. They did their
own laundry. They bought food
supplies cautiously.
Today Mrs. Powell is her
daughter’s secretary, and “buf
fer,” pal, maid, manager, and
everything else a young girl in
public life needs. She even
breaks in Eleanor’s dancing
shoes. Eventually, Eleanor’s
waiting ended. Her manager
had been right. She was given
a leading role in “Follow Thru.”
SHOW SCORES HIT
“Follow Thru’ ’’ ran for a year
and a half, and Eleanor’s fame
increased through the months.
When it finally closed, she had
a dozen offers. She was es
tablished on Broadway!
She next appeared in “Fine
and Dandy,” with Joe Cook;
then, in turn, in Ziegfeld’s “Hot
Cha”; “The Varieties,” as the
lead opposite Bert Lahr and
Harry Richman; in “George
White’s Scandals”; and in the
road show of “Crazy Quilt,” in
which she appeared with Char
lie King and Anita Page, who
had played the leading roles in
the first “Broadway Melody.”
And then came that small role
when the “Scandals” was
brought to the screen, to be fol
lowed by her big break in
“Broadway Melody of 1936.”
Then she appeared on Broad
way in “At Home Abroad.”
TOO BUSY FOR ROMANCE
In six years this girl has come
a long way on her road to fame.
The arduous program of
achievement she set for herself
has left her little time for play,
or for the usual romances.
But Eleanor insists that mar
riage for her is still a long way
off. She says she has much to
do first, and intends doing it.
Eleanor is unusual in her
instant friendliness toward
those she meets; in her vital
and vibrant enthusiasms; in her
complete lack of self-impor
tance.
Her desire to be of service to
others, her fear of being un
kind, her encompassing love for
those close to her are outstand
ing characteristics. She has a
joy in living and a joy in work
ing. And that joy she scatters
magnificently, e x travagantly,
never thinking of herself or
her weariness.
NEVER TIRES OF DANCING
She truly loves to dance.
While rehearsing her numbers
for her new pictures, she had to
follow certain routines which
she had created at the first of
the picture. But every night at
6 o’clock, after dancing all day,
she would say to her exhausted
piano player:
“Chris, play that funny piece
so I can do a dance just to
please myself.”
Her friends say that only One
thing will get the Powell tem
per to a red-hot point; people
who don’t think she devised all
of her steps herself.
Once she read in a newspaper
column that some instructor
was helping her figure out the
steps for her new picture. She
was so hurt that she cried for
an hour.
She’s really the pet of the
studio.
When the chorus men and
girls discovered that she had
purchased a new car, they put
in their dimes and nickels and
bought her a radio to go wit it.
She doesn’t go in for much
of social life. Says she’s too
tired after dancing all day.
When she rented her new
house, the first she’s had since
her arrival in Hollywood, she
told her mother that she wanted
to give a party right away.
Her guest list was unusual. It
listed her hairdresser, her
mase-up boy, her wardrobe
woman and her pianist.
No wonder they call her:
“SWELEANOR POWELL.”