Metropolitan news., June 11, 1935, Second Section, Page 16, Image 16

About Metropolitan news. (Chicago, Ill.) 1935-19??

Image provided by: University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL

                
I Features Facts Fiction
I ■ - ■ ■ -. —I
Claude Hopkins Was Reared
To Be a Physician
- - Instead He Became A Doctor of Jazz
Claude Hopkins did not
want to be a medical doctor,
but a doctor of jazz. The Har
lem maestro tossed his pills,
antidotes and medicines out of
the window and switched from
a pre-medical course to liber
al arts, when music became
his chief interest. Claude Hop
kins is one of America’s chief
dispensers of hot jazz. He
sends out his cheery music
via the air lanes from his ma
jestic perch at the famous
Cotton Club in New York.
Claude Hopkins is one of the
classiest men on the stage to
day. He was born in Alexan
dria, Virginia. He was reared
on the campus of Howard uni
versity. His father is the post
master of Howard university
and has held that position for
more than thirty years.
Claude’s mother is a mem
ber of the college faculty.
Claude studied “pre-med
ics” at Howard, but changed
his mind and took his bach
elor's degree in liberal arts
from the same school in 1923.
He conducted the college
symphony orchestra. He won
his letter on the track team;
he was equally adept at play
ing football, basketball and
tennis.
After graduating he at
tended the Washington Con
servatory of Music, studying
piano and harmony in the best
classical tradition. He spent a
year at this school.
Then he went out seeking a
job as a pianist in an orches
tra. Wilbur Sweatlnan gave
•Jm a berth in his jazz band.
Shortly afterward he organ-j
ized his own orchestra, and
secured a job for the band
in Atlantic City in 1924. His
society orchestra played cafe
and club engagements in At
lantic City, Washington and
Asbury Park, New Jersey.
Claude got his first real
break when Mrs. Caroline
Dudley Regan, wife of the sec
retary of the American em
bassy in Paris, was a guest at
the club where he and his or
chestra were featured. This
was in 1926.
Mrs. Regan was so im
pressed with the music of
Claude Hopkins that she hit
upon the idea of presenting a
Harlem revue in Paris. She
asked Claude to play the “St.
Louis Blues.’’ That settled it.
Ere long she was negotiating
with Claude’s employer to re
lease the orchestra from its
contract.
Claude was tickled pink over1
the idea of the Parisian trip.
When he finished work that
night he had a contract in his
pocket for the European ven
ture. Mrs. Regan wras equal
ly as jubilant and she began
to assemble a revue around
Claude Hopkins' orchestra.
She got Ethel Waters to sign
on the dotted line that she
would headline the show.
They rehearsed and re
hearsed. Finally they were all
satisfied that they had a re
vue. Ethel Waters became ill
a few days before they were
to sail. It would probably have
proven fatal to Ethel to have
taken the trip. What is a show
without a star? They had to
have one. Here they were all
set to go to Paris—and no
star.
Mrs. Regan and Claude both
began watching a clever little
girl in the chorus. They pulled
her out of the line. They be
gan grooming her to take Eth
el Waters' place as star of the
revue. The chorus girl was
thrilled beyond words. It was
the big chance in her life. She
just had to make good. She
went through her paces every
day on board ship bound for
Paris. The revue was sche
uled to open at the Theatre
Champs Elysees. When the
show opened on time in Paris,
the chorine was a star—she
had made good. Her name was
Josephine Baker.
The story of Josephine Ba
ker and Claude Hopkins re
sembles the plot of Warner
Brothers’ sensational motion
picture musical “42nd Street’’,
,s£>, much so that one would
bonder whether or not they
furnished the basic material
used. Ruby Keeler played a
similar role in the flicker to
the one Josephine Baker
played in real life. When Jose
phine got in Paris, she stayed
there.
The revue ended its engage
ment after a successful run.
Claude and his orchestra then
toured. They opened at the
National de L'Opera in Paris;
later at the Circque Royal in
Brussels, where he played a
command performance for the
late King Albert of Belgium,
The orchestra then played at
the Scala theater in Berlin,
and still later at the Nelson
theater in that city. He stayed
three months at this spot.
Then engagements were filled
at the Savoy hotel in Bremen,
the Palace theatre in Barce
lona, Spain, and the Royal
theatre in Budapest. He re
turned to America late in the
year of 1927.
Having met with such suc
cess with his first revue, Hop
kins organized another. He
labeled it “Ginger Snaps.” It
toured America with the mu
sical show. Then his aggre
gation became a ballroom
broadcasting orchestra. He
was a fixture at the famous
Roseland ballroom in New
York.
His CBS broadcasts on the
“Harlem Serenade” program
won him national acclaim. He
has made several shorts for
the movies and two features.
“Dance Team" starring James
Dunn and Sally Eilers and
“Wayward," with Nancy Car
rol, were the names of the
films.
Claude is an exceptional
piano player, arranger and
composer. Among some of his
numbers are “Harlem Sere
nade," “Mississippi River,"
and “Smoking My Pipe,"
which he wrote with his vo
calist, Orlando Robeson. He
also wrote “I Could Do Most
Anything for You.”
Many people have formed
the opinion that Orlando Ro
beson, the sweet-voiced croon
er, is related to Paul Robeson.
This is not so—Orlando was
born in Tulsa, Oklahoma, and
educated at Kansas universi
ty.
Captain Mooney Pays Great
Tribute to Fallen Heroes
By CLIFTON THOMAS
It has been said many times that the general sordid
ness attached to police work makes persons engaged in it
"hard-boiled” and impervious to human suffering and woe.
Each year in Chicago, however, plenty of proof has been sup
plied from men of outstanding character and ability in the
police department to show that the miserable experiences
necessarily witnessed only tend to properly direct sympathy
which is due each deserving person.
Among those officers who for'
years have capitalized in this re
gard as result of their experience
and, as a consequence, have always
received one hundred per cent co
operation from his subordinates is
Captain James L. Mooney, com
mander of the 6th District police at
48th street and Wabash avenue.
Dead Heroes Honored
As a fitting tribute to those men
under his command, who died in the
line of duty, resisting crime—men
who had great respect for their
leader, preferred to die rather than
to let a “pinch” elude them, Cap
tain has adorned the corridor walls
f the station with their likenesses.
They are all there, black men and
white men alike, an inspiration for
anyone in any line of work who
values devotion to duty and due re
i ard for a man who never asked his
men to do what he would not do
himself.
There on the wall hangs a picture
of Patrolman Roscoe Johnson, vet
eran of the force and hero of the
.World war, who went down fighting
bandits who attempted to rob the
Gordon Baking company, March 21,
1933. His slayers were never appre
hended; Patrolman Louis Purst,
who went to his death fighting a
crazed man at 5857 State in Sep
tember of the same year. The mad
man was finally slain by Officer
Carl Nelson; Patrolman John R.
Officer, killed April 13, of last year
when he surprised bandits during
a holdup of Bill’s Bootery, 302 E.
43rd street. His slayers were
caught and sent to the electric caair
for the crime.
Then there are the pictures of
Policeman Robert Granger, shot
and killed three years ago in the
line of duty on Prairie avenue, and
Officers Thomas E. Torpy and Gal
braith, whose lives were snuffed
out in a gun battle at 733 St. Law
rence avenue.
And so the police work under
Capt. Mooney goes on and on in
this busy district, with every man
anxious to curb crime—the first or
der of their commander and every
man, too, willing to stake his life
against the challenge hurled hourly
by hoodlums of the underworld to
prove that their fellov' officers who
have gone before them have not
died in vain and that their untimely
deaths are not unavenged.
NORA HOLT NOW
A SCHOOL MARM
i
Perpetual youth seems to be the
reward of Nora Holt. Freshness
of viewpoint is Nora’s secret, one
of her secrets. Love of nature,
the other, romance a possible
third.
Driving through the Arroyo
Seco last Sunday morning with a
faint haze giving a purple cast to
California mountains; fields of
green and golden poppies with tall
Yucca raising an occasional bloom,
Nora took a breath of pure air,
swept her gaze over the landscape
and burst forth with the surprise
of the year:
“I was never meant for Broad
way! Nite clubs and gay parties
always bored rne. I was thrown
into it all and I had to make a
good job of it. This is the life, and
I’m going to live it the rest of my
days.”
Fine gown creations, many of
them hand-painted; sequins that
Chinese women painstakingly
sewed together. Costly furs. Pri
celess antique jewelry. All lie un
disturbed in Nora’s trunks.
The former toast of the contin
ent, Nora Holt, is leading the sim
ple life: feeding a little puppy,
pruning rose rushes, teaching
school at night, writing new music
as the sun rises.
Now blackbirds are movie
struck.
Indications that they want to
become actors at Universal City
are evident as out of 200 birds re
leased from a cake at a party dur
ing the filming of Diamond Jim,
more than 50 lurked around sound
stage 12.
— - ■
So This Is
NEW YORK
By TED YATES
^=~ 1 i V
G-Men know Alvin (Fnb.ic En
emy No. 1) Karpis as, Eureau
Identification Order No. 12S1 . . .
That certain Harlem beautician
who fell hard for a Harold Teen
(drug store soda jerker tc you)
went and bought the ofay playboy
a car! Bernice Ince how**e you
been ? Allan (Al-Mac Syndicate)
MacMillian was to have 'tracked’
to Philly, but—well, the truck
didn’t come . . . Teduj (1-0-1
Club) Godfrey should marry the
gal. Meaning Dot Rhodes 7 ? ?
The Guardsmen Club of 5:lyn.,
had another one of those swank
things at the Savoy Banruum last
Satiddy . . . Ethel Waters is get
ting 4U’s and 5 C’s in Chi for her
bit. Which is the top price ever
paid a single act in the Windy
City. . . Wonder if Ralph Cooper
knows that Billy Rowe is out? t 1
Out of luck re-Edna Richardson).
. . . Best of the star acis w.uay is
Avon Long’s dancing, singing and
prancing . . . Atlantic City ‘pops’
on Satiddy nights and Sundays.
Too much! ! !The culluu waitress
es at Pep’s, in Phiia. give oetter
service than the ofay ones. Which
is right in step with our times. . .
Pardon my Gotham drawl, folks—
but, Freda Jackson, ami Iiarold
Holder (Cab Calloway's vaiet) did
do the wedding step, they tell me
that three chicks were peeved at
Holder who jilted tnem anu Freda
told the organist to pump hard.
But the pair are miles apart. So?
Don Redman’s, “I Only Heard,”
is really town talk . . . .\dolph
Phillips, the Phiia. beauty parlor
equipment supply head, contracted
the measles from daughter . . .
Bobby Evans, the Harlem play
boy and former Lucky 7 Trio dan
cer, will give Atlantic City’s Won
der Bar his all in a fortnight . . .
Lloyd Baskerville is sporting one
of the snappier soft brimmed hats.
Right smart! ! ! Wonder who is
“Mack” Baker’s heart now that
the Earl (Maud Danielson) Styles
have reconciled? ? ? Marion Hair
ston’s newest heartache is Har
lem’s ace columnist. I don’t know
who started that ! ! Rudy Smith,
the piano plunker who is doing so
well at that Greenwich Village
‘hot’ spot will get A. No. 1 press
notices for his swell goings-on at
Carnegie Hall . . . Don’t let any
body tell you different—Clarence
Robinson, right now, is our ace
stage producer ! ! 1
They’e trying to say that the
Harlem players didn’t get good
enough press notices. The box of
fice wasn’t pressed enough, thej
should say . . .Remember Father’s
Day, men. He didn’t forget you!
Joe Louis, the Detroit bomber will
have what canary whistlin’ before
the 7th ? ? And remember above
all things, what I told you first . ,
The Reggie Fendersons have cal
led it off. I hope that trey didn’t
blame it on the weather . . .Victor
ia Vigal is doing her numbers at
the Memphis Club in the Quaker
City ... So Fats Waller hailed
Tom Southern, his body guard, as
his "cheerful little earful.” And
the gangsters aren’t misbehavin'
(Being original and being newsy,
folks!) . . . Chez Washington and
Bill Nunn, of the Pittsburgh
Courier, came to N. Y. recently
to see their fran Joe Louis. You
should have been up to Mike’s the
nite the newsboys gathered—so
much huggin’ and bar bending.
Come back again soon, fellers.
Expect Ralph (Afro American)
Matthews in town any day now • .
So “Spinkey” Alston took Pheon
Hood bark ? ? ? Attend the show
at the Ambassodar this Sunday
nite. By all means, see Ella Gor
don’s Peter Pan Kiddies in action
. . . Some say Joe Outlear broke
the S. S. Normandie’s record when
he told a certain lass a thousand
’nots’ when she asked where did he
spend the nite . . . Lorraine Harris
still inquires about Monte Haw
ley’s goings on . . . They say, too,
that A. B. Coleman has went
places. Beauticians want to know!
Incidently, W. C. Stevens who
gave Harlem (the mag) Harlem
Life is slated to succeed your N.
Y. corespondent as editor of the
National Beauty Creator. All
along I knew it wouldn’t last . . .
Not to be funny, but does Ralph
Cooper know you’re out, Billy
Rowe? ? ? So to my friends, north,
south, cast and west I am letting
them in on the political situaion
in ‘Hot’ Harlem, Oscar Godfrey
and Daniel Burrows will vie for
leadership—with one, Perry, mak
ing it a three cornered fight. May
be there are others, huh? Well,
it’s about time we have a good
battle. There have been too many
fixed contests . . FLASH ! ! Vic
tor Lloyd is sporting one of those
German wrist watches Goodness
gracious me. I must be slipping!
LOS ANGELES CAFE
SPORTS NOTED TALENT
Leon Herriford, smart Kansan,
who came west years ago with the
Quality Four: Harvey Brooks, Tin
Can Henry, Paul Howard and
himself, introduced classy bands
in the old Humming Bird Cafe
opened by Gloria Swanson, owned
by Dr. Eugene Nelson.
Theatrical Career as a
Lifetime Profession
By EARL J, MORRIS <
"The span of a theatrical
career is only five years! ’
The aforesaid is the common
belief of those outside of the
theatrical profession. This is
not true in the sense it is ut
tered above. The chances for
success following a career be
hind the footlights are just as
good as those in other profes
sions. Each year thousands of
people will attempt to become
doctors, lawyers, mechanics,
teachers, authors and what
nots. Only a few hundreds are
able to remain in their chosen
profession. Those who do re
main in any line of work, do
so because they have some
thing to sell.
We are all salesmen in this
game of life. We have to sell
ourselves to our fellow man.
For example, two doctors with
the same amount of medical
knowledge—one is a success,
riding in a limousine, etc; the
other is struggling along on
a mere pittance. The success
ful physician was simply a
better salesman.
You have to sell it, no mat
ter what it is. If it is done
right, you will have a market i
for your talents.
There are hundreds or ooys
and girls working in taverns
and cheap night clubs, who
may be able to out-dance Bill
Robinson or out-sing Ethel
Waters, but they have no sales
ability. That is the difference
between a star and just anoth
er singer or “hoofer”—of
course, I mean a person who
has talent.
You have to let people kn^w
that you have the ability, and
you have to sell yourself to
the multitude.
One can last in the theatri
cal profession as long as in
any other vocation. We do not
know the origin of the gross
ly false statement that “the
life of an actor is limited to
jus. five years.” We are go
ing to show you in subsequent
paragraphs that this is high
ly erroneous.
Bill Robinson, who celebrat
ed his 57th birthday recently,
has been dancing for a living
for 50 years. He has been a
top act since 1908. Your
grandmother, mother, you, or
your children have thrilled at
the dancing ability of Bill
Robinson. Old Bill will be
around for some time to come.
“Bojangles” is a salesman.
J. Homer Tutt has been on
the stage for more than a
quarter of a century. When
this writer was six months
old, his mother took him to
the Pekin theater on State
street with her to see the Tutt
Whitney shows. Salem Tutt
Whitney has passed into the
great beyond, but J. Homer
Tutt is still on the stage. He
has a part in ‘‘The Green Pas
tures.”
Oertrude Saunders, the
“boop-a-doop" girl, with Billy
King, is still going strong.
Jennie Dancer and Mae Alix
have been in the theatrical
profession “since Hector was
a pup.’’ Blanche Calloway
came out of the chorus of the
Tutt-Whitney shows, and she
is still “tops’’ in theatrical
circles.
Human Crabs
Ethel Waters started her
career many years ago. She
has been a star for almost
fifeteen years. Ethel had
to sell herself to get to the
top and stay there. Of course
in a way there is plenty of
room at the top—it’s getting
there that is so hard, because
the human race has often been
compared to a basket of crabs,
each pulling the other further
back into the basket.
Ethel Waters was no dif
ferent from any other young
girl who wanted to follow a [
career on the stage. She prob-1
d
ably had been warned that the
span of theatrical life would
be only five years. But she dis
regarded these bugaboos and
went for herself.
Buck and Bubbles started
their careers about 1917 and
they were a sure-fire hit and
rose to the constellations and
stayed there. They are sales
men.
You will probably say: "Oh,
they got the breaks!” Well,
they made those ‘‘breaks”—
Ethel Waters, Bill Robinson,
and all the rest. It is no idle
rumor that Ashton Stevens,
the famous dramatic critic,
was one of the most import
ant factors in the rise of
Ethel Waters. He knew that
she was a ‘‘natural’’. But it
was no lucky break that Ash
ton Stevens happened to drop
into the Grand theater and
“catch” Ethel’s act. Mr. Stev
ens had been invited there by
Earl Dancer, who at that time
was her husband. Dancer is a
great salesman. He sold Ethel
to Stevens, and Stevens sold
her to the world, in big time
style. Earl Dancer in truth
sold little .Teni LeGon. You
must be a salesman. Are you
reading, “Gate?”
When They Started
About 1919, several girls,
among them being Flo Mills,
Josephine Baker, Elida Webb,
and Alberta Hunter had a
craving for the stage. In 1921,
they blossomed forth at the
foot of the profession as cho
rines. They rose from the
chorus to stardom. Flo Mills
was a star in Florenz Zieg
feld’s shows before her un
timely end. Elida Webb is still
head lady of the ensembles at
the Cotton Club in New York.
Josephine Baker is loved by
all France, and is the number
one star of that nation.
Eddie Hunter and Alex
Lovejoy, both comedians, are
still in the limelight. They
have been cracking jokes for
more than 12 years. Leroy
Brumfield started out about
this time. He has danced his
way from coast to coast, did
his stuff in China, and is now
in Los Angeles at Sebastian’s
Cotton Club.
Five Years—Phooey 1
Five years on the stage
Phooey! You can stay any
where a life time if you are
good, and know how to sell it
in the manner that the people
like.
Duke Islington came out oi
Washington, D. C.. with a six
piece band. Today he has twice
that number of men in his or
chestra. He started his career
more than ten years ago.
Claude Hopkins also came
from Washington, D. C. He
has been in the business long
er than twice the alleged al
loted span of theatrical life.
King Joe Oliver, the trum
peter, was a big shot in New
Orleans, on Rampart street,
when Louis Armstrong was
trying to get a job in his or
chestra. Oliver is still a box
office attraction. His orches
tra is probably the oldest se
pia band in the country. Arm
strong is a product of his.
Armstrong probably learned
his “A-B-C's'' of music from
the old master.
Fletcher Henderson is an
other old master who is still
being sought by dance lovers.
Good Career
Ivy Anderson came from
California. She had a voice
and Duke Ellington needed
such a voice and personality
and she has bpen with him
ever since.
Stepin Fetchit went on the
stage when he was about 15
years of age. He was a suc
cess on the stage before he
became a screen star. To stay
in the theatrical or any other
profession, you must sell your
talents to the world.
The stage, as a life career,
is just as good as any. People
are wont to attack the morals
of the stage. The actor gives
the public what it wants—so
you see the morality issue re
bounds. From the individual
side, the morality of the per
formers is no different from
yours or mine.
Plenty of Money
Choosing a career behind
the footlights from a moneta
ry standpoint, it is just as
lucrative as any other.
Bill Robinson’s salary on the
stage ranges from $500 to
$2,000 per week. His screen
salary is reputed to be $30,000
a picture, and he has only to
work about three weeks to
complete a picture.
Ethel Waters is the highest
paid single act on any stage
today. She is drawing $12,000
for a two-weeks engagement
in Chicago. She coined plenty
dough in “As Thousands
Cheer.”
The parents of Duke Elling
ton wanted their son to be a
pianist; he wanted to be an
artist. His mother lived to see
her son become one of the
foremost musicians of he
world. She chose his career
for him; she made him prac
tice when he wanted to play
ball or wanted to dabble with
paints and oils. She lived to
see him earn enough money
to do anythng that he, she, or
meir iamuy aesirea.
Adelaide Hall stuck in the
theatrical profession from the
time that she was just a wisp
of a girl. She sang her way to
fame and fortune. If you
don’t think that her profes
sion has paid, take a look at
her home on the Palisades. It
only cost her $30,000.
Cab Calloway has a palace.
Bill Robinson rides around in
a Dusenburg. “Thar’s gold in
them thar hills.”
“Oh, we expect those ‘big
shots’ to earn that sort of
money,” you say, “but what
about the ‘little fish’?"
The average good act de
mands a salary ranging from
$50 to $150 a week, and that
isn’t peanuts. Then there are
those who earn smaller sal
aries. But they are earning
more than they probably
would in some other line of
woric.
How to Be a Star
How do they get to the top?
They are salesmen; they have
a commodity to sell. The same
basic principles of salesman
ship are used. In other words,
a lot of “ballyhoo” is em
ployed.
win p lay ueueilLa*
dance and sing at every oppor
tunity they get to keep their
names before the people.
Many times the reported en
gagements of motion picture
stars are no more than high
powered press agent stuff.
Let's take Sally Rand, the
fan dancer. She thrives sole
ly upon publicity. Her act is
simply to appear in her “birth
day suit,’’ and make a few ar
tistic turns to music. The nov
elty lies in the fact that it is
considered daring. Her man
ager, Leo Salkins, at the
height of her career, had to
sell her to the public. He em
ployed a high priced press
agent and soon the world
knew about Sally Rand. The
press agent sold her to Ameri
ca; started controversies
about the morality of the
dance—whether it could fall
into the category of art, etc.
He even pulled those arrests
so as to make her page one
copy. Stars will conveniently
attempt suicide, by jumping
into the lake just as the cam
era man is near (and he is
always near).
When a new star is em
ployed at a motion picture stu
dio, or by the Mills’ Artists
bureau, which manages such
orchestras as Duke, Cab, and
Lucky Millinder. they are
turned over to the publicity
department and given a coat
ing of exploitation, which
arouses your interest to the
extent that you will ‘‘plank
down” the price of admission
i to see them.
Of course, they change with
the present tempo of things,
but in the main, they are the
same. You no doubt have seen
performers who in truth did
not display any exceptional
talents, but they were bub
ling over with personality, and
you encored them again
and again. They know how to
sell their wares. Then on the
other hand you will see a fel
low almost break a leg try
ing to entertain you with his
dance—he is no go. He lacks
the personality, the ability to
sell his number.
So, if you are thinking of
choosing a theatrical career,
provided, of course, you have
the ability, don’t fear the bug
aboo that you can only last
ve years; because if you are
good, people will want to see
you forever more. We laugh
at good jokes that we heard
when we were chldren. We en
joy seeing artists perform in
the same manner that we did
years ago.
You can remain in any vo
cation in life more than five
years if you have that swing.
- ----
‘Third Row-Center r\
| (The World, the Theater) I
fl By MARJORIE MURRAY *
REV. KINGSLEY in dinner
clothes, and the ony male guest so
correct at the Antiilia Protective
Association dinner in honor of
King George’s Silver Jubilee. He
sat next to us at dinner, and we
found him most human and jovial,
yet decidedly convincing. He's
temperate, you know, and as a
result we drank his wine. That's
what he gets for being so sincere
a preacher, and having to raise
| his water glass when a toast was
, said to the king.
Those watermelons we saw in
that shop window were almost
more than we could bear. Here
it is in the dead of June, with
snow and sleet all over the place,
and a guy thinks up a stunt like
that. I think they were for sale,
too! The funny shopkeeper would
make ten times more if he’d put
the watermelons in a glass cage
like a mummy or a stuffed dodo,
and charge a dime a peep.
That section of the MONTGOM
ERY ADVERTISER devoted to the
commencement at TUSKEGEE IN
STITUTE, and its editorial in par
ticular. Those of you who still
have visions of the South being
cluttered up with boogie men go
ing about hanging you to the near
est tree should dash right out and
grab yourselves a copy. We bet
after you’ve read it you’ll call your
selves a couple of big Jack Hor
ners and give yourselves a swift
kick, or do you inhale?
I’ve been humming that tune all
day “East of the Sun and West
of the Moon,” from “Stag’s at
Bay.” Pretty, isn’t it? And that
was a grand number that kid did
the other night over the air from
Frisco. (Sorry, her name has
slipped me.) It was after she
sang “Sometimes I Feel Like a
Motherless Child.” “Foot Loosa
and Fancy Free” from “Hooray for
Love,” the new Bill Robinson flick
er.
• • *
It was nice having a few high
balls with KAY FRANCIS’ best
girl Friday. She’s IDA PERRY
JOHNSON and on her way to Eng
land . . . not to meet Kay but on a
jolly jaunt quite her own. She
wouldn’t discuss the Kay-Cheval
ier rumor, but did say that if
there’s any feeling out in Holly
wood about our natural sun-tan, she
didn’t know it.
4 4 4
For a pick-up, take 1-3 Bacardi
rum, 1-2 dry gin, 1-2 French Ver
mouth. Shake well, and pour in
to cocktail glasses, or any glasa
for that matter. You may then,
my dears, relax, and count your
blessings one by one.
4 4 4
Cheerio—See you Friday.