The Birmingham age-herald. [volume] (Birmingham, Ala.) 1902-1950, 1921-11-15

{
pink and blonde, blue-eyed and
yellow-haired, and just the size
of a minute; diminutive enough to be
worn as watch charm, brimful of
life and running overland you have
the ideal "Bab"-whom Mary Rob-
ert Rinehart picturtd so charming
ly in her book by that name, and
which is now engaging the atten-
ton of those who enjoy the theatre
in the form of a play
Honestly. little pink AN white
Helen Ware isn't big enough to be
cut of her mothers sight-much less
on the stage-and yet she's Is; which
she thinks sounds awfully terribly,
outrageously old. but which thought
was just so disgustingly young that
1T couldn't possibly be true!
Like Bah" of the play, little Helen
Ware has written a play, but she
adds:
II hope it's better than Bab's."
And l believe it is from what she
told me, because she's taken an aw-
full lot of pains with it-working on
it world without end and striving to
make it real, genuine "thriller'-
because that's her ambition--to write
her own plays and play them!
"Of course, 1 know it is a big am
bition," said little Miss Ware to me
yesterday, as she sat perched up on
the side of a huge divan with, her
little saucy bonnet perched more
saucily on the side of her pretty lit
tie head, and her feet swinging for
dear life-except every now and then
when she'd take her little arms and
hands and wind them about her knees
and push them up most under her
chin-you know, like a little child
when she's interested in telling some-
thing, oh, SO important!
I've had a very interesting career
on the stage. even IL l am only 1S."
continued little Miss Ware. Because
1t started when L was such little,
tiny, wee bit of a thing. / lived in
Chicago and l always had wanted to
go on the stage, but, of course, fond
parents objected-that's the way
parents always do. you know-and so
just had to coax them along and as
l didn't receive any encouragement
from them l decided that I'd write to
David Belasco in New York; knew
he'd encourage me-"
"Well-he didn't" said little Miss
Ware. II just wrote and wrote and
wrote and still never a line from the
great Belasco. And then one day
something happened. 1 got a letter
from his secretary. Happy? That
doesn't half express how l felt and
treasured that letter to my heart
because 1t said that If I ever went to
New York Mr.. Belasco would see me-"
And then something else hap
pened," she said. MY father decided
to send me off to school and New
York was the place he decided on.
In the meantime 1 had been In the
moving pictures-played quite bit
and had saved up some money and
this I drew out of my little bank ac-
count and took 1t with me to New
York"
IT hadn't been there very long
in fact just a month, when my father
had business reverses and l was
compelled to leave the school,, said
Miss Ware. Fortunately / had
little money left out OF that which
had saved; only $25 dollars, but
1t seemed so much to me and so
said: Here's where 1 go to see Mr.
Belasco. because his secretary said
he'd see me II / ever got to New
York That was five years ago
when I was just 13, and so l didn't
tell my family anything about what
had happened to me, but / just got
into a taxicab and went to the Be
lasco theatre and asked for Mr..
Belasco's secretary. Mr.. Dean"
what do you suppose had hap
pened?' she said, her beautiful blue
eyes opening wide, as they regis
tered surprise. THE doorman told
me that Mr.. Dean was dead. 1 said:
%, 1t can't be true; surely he isn't;
why, why!' Oh. 1 nearly died. There
I was in New York and expecting to
be received by Mr.. Belasco-and to
get an engagement because-well 1