The Birmingham age-herald., 1915-03-27
No Indeed, Never Even So Much As
 Take Tiny Little Drink Says Mr. Oscar
 Fign1an That Is If Er-Er- Pour It Myself
By DOLLY DALRYMPLE

If the raven had discarded its natural lassitude and abandoned itself to con secutive speech it would probably have ing man" of the clever comedy. A Pair of Sixes,' did yesterday:
 "The interview-ee is at the mercy of the interviewer"
 Some people speak from the ground up; some from the depths of knowledge and some from the heights of experience; this and the added solemnity of elongated nmbs and the most deliciously amusing and attractive face you've ever seen, made the statement almost pure portent-
 The better things in solitude he cannot claim; he has to lend himself to the hor- rible newspaper persons cross exam nations now and then, always raising ey cry objection that he possibly can; all as thin as a lovers excuse, yet he still fir ds himself a victim once in a while of us press folk and he simply cannot get out of it-that's all.
 Mr. Oscar Figman is a person whom l. having heard a lot about, had nevertheless not pictured in my memory
 IOuih iiob itSdli lioW HC tOiADSt Aiis7 hair or whether he was thin or stout. W hen he greeted me in the foyer of the Tutwier> yesterday by appointment (doesn't that sound lovely and wiclSed?-- an appointment with an actor man0 sort of looked queer like and unsteady, use-well-er-er-he seemed taller and straighter and thinner and more un- approachable than any deed in history as he stood looking down at me from his towering height.
 After that I told him I remembered him, because l did,
 This seemed to amuse him, and he smiled back nice, large, engaging sort of smile from behind his musical com edy" "face"-yes, that's it, musical com edy''-thats where l placed him; old Peter Sturvesant'' in .'The Burgomas- ter" afterward MT. Somebody or Other'' in 'The Tenderfoot."
 Now then, I've told his real name.'
 'Wel?" I said infiectively I've come to ask you to tell me something about yourself"
 He smiled gently, and then lifting his sharp chin toward the ceiling, said:
 There's nothing whatever to tell. I'm the most uninterviewable person in the world.'
 Well, make up something, then, please, MT Man. I begged. "I can't go back to the city editor and report a failure. A fire would be better; come on; let's start a confia grafton" l begged.
 Nothing doing,' he said quietly. I'm just plain, ordinary man; never do any thing except commonplace things, and can't talk for publication"
 Don't you ever sleep a little later in the mornings than other people or stay up later at night?' l questioned, determined to find out some little characteristic that he possessed that was different from the rest of us ordinary mortals.
 Never" he declared tremendously
 Haven't you some choice about what you eat-egg sandwiches or raisin bread?" I asked.
 Nope" he replied again, equally as de- liberately.
 I saw failure staring me in the face.
 What was I to do?
 Lose my perfectly good job simply be- cause l couldn't make a mere man talk about himself?
 Neveri
 Happy thought--an idea ran through my brain quick streak of lightning.
 "Er--er,' l began. Tell me, Mr. Fig man, don't you ever take just a teen-y. ween-y, little, bits-y drink?' I asked.
 Not if I pour it myself" he said quick as a flash, and then everything was over,
 Lid on; service continued-at-the-gra effect-and there you arel.
 Pleased?
 Of course I was, because now l was go- ing to get something worth telling.
 As a matter of fact Mir Figman