Evening star., 1921-12-11
By Sophie Braslau.

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to consider a noted artist to be
not quite human being. and
hence to regard her as set upon
a pedestal as something to be gazed
upon with awe and admiration. That
is the case not only here but also in
England. After my recent recital In
Albert Hall, in London, a large group
of the audience came back and stared
at me as if were a wax work. Had
they but known that 1 was nothing
more than a lonely, homesick Ameri-
can girl they might have at least
dared to come forward and say a few
words to me.
But If there is the aloof and wor-
Shipping class, there is also a class
which is not so aloof. but which fol-
lows the woman artist and renders
her at times absolutely miserable.
do not mean by this the famous
"fapper brigade" that waylays
Gerry" Farrar after every public
performance and my very good friends
who come forward to thank me after
my recitals wherever I go in this
country. I have in mind, rather. the
men who seem to filter around
women Of stage prominence like the
proverbial moth about the flame.
X X X +
MY experiences with this class
A'A cannot repeat-the attempted
overtures, the letters slipped under
nv hotel door from all sorts and con-
ditions, some funny, some tragtc-tne
letters that come every day from men
who protest they have fallen in love
with my voice or my portrait! NOR
are all these merely from aatterers
and flirts. They are also from men
who are quite serious. Once, not
very long way from Denver. there
was introduced to me young man
who seemed most pleasant and was
quite intimate with several nice peo-
pie whom I have known Tor some
time. Hence when. one warm even
ing, he asked me to take a motor ride
with him was glad to accept.
remember riding for what seemed
many miles. mounting constantly
through winding hill roads that grad
uraly unfolded before our gaze an
unparalleled panorama Of beauty,
stretching for seemingly endless
space as far as We could see. My
companion stopped his car on sum-
init that commanded marvellous
view of the glorious plain country.
the home of a million head of cattle.
How wonderful" I exclaimed.
DO YOU like it?" he asked. BE
cause if you do." he continued ar
IDENTIFY, you have only to say the
word and every bit of it's yours"
was stunned and impressed by
the sudden, impetuous offer of that
young ranch king. 1 gently thanked
him and suggested an immediate re-
turn. But at the time l could not
help wondering, as I have wondered,
womanlike, many times since in sim
liar il not as spectacular situations.
whether he had become infatuated
with a woman or a voice!
Even the man artists dwell in this
same mystic aura apparently. Not
long ago one told me that, caught in
his dressing room ty band of woman
admirers, he laid aside copy of a
popular science magazine, only to
have one of his visitors exclaim, pite-
ously and disillusioned:
"oh, do you read that?"
She was broken-hearted, apparently,
at finding her idol reading what
well, what her own brother might
very we'll read. Poor woman! I hope
she will never find out that the popu-
lar mechanical magazines and detec-
tive stories form this artists favorite
reading.
NOR are the man artists free from
Nv the unwelcome attentions Of fe-
male admirers. Apart from the silly
mash notes Of foolish young girls,
they are aften pursued by love-smit-
ten women who should have more
sense. On the street. in restaurants.
in the theater they are ogled and out
rageously fiirted with. A great tenor
with whom I was 1unching. in speak
ing Of this, remarked that he could
not understand how a refined, edu-
Gated, well bred woman would act as
many had toward himself. And as
he spoke he pointed out to me very
prominent society bud who was doing
everything In her power to attract
his attention. watched her for
some time, and could readily UNDER
stand my hosts disgust.
Such experiences are all In days
work: they are the penalty the star
pays for fame in any chosen profess
sion; they are one Of the trials and
tribulations Of the artists life. But
they are as nothing compared to the
trials and tribHlations Of going "into
the heart Of America" on concert
tours. For what with jolting along
on endless trains, springless hotel