Arizona republican., 1921-03-13
LADA DANCED HER WAY INTO HEARTS
 OF LOCAL AUDIENCE

Like a lovely Dresden doll stepping from some high mantel, stepped Lada, the dancer, into the hearts of all who beheld her last Friday night at the high school auditorium. A crowded house. so hushed that the faintest tinkling note of .'The Blue Danube" could be heard in the farthest corner, greeted her. All eyes were glued on the slim, reclining figure on the tapes try-hung stage-Lada, in a billowy gown of frosted silver over which sky blue scarf trailed to the floor. She rose on slender feet, cast aside the filmy scarf, and stood poised as if for flight while the music rose and rose in ever-increasing allure. With startled eyes she looked to right and left started forward, hesitated-Stopped. she listened to the music-confidence delight, Then. daintily and lightly as if treading on air, sine danced And | with her danced the hearts of the on- l lookers-in little skips of pure delight, | in long, slow glides and lovely pastures while breathing came fast with the intoxicating grace and rythm of her l movements-the perfect coordination 1 of swaying arms and twinkling feet And when she had gone, with gay pirouette, and a swish of nuttering skirts, there came a burst of genuine applause such as Phoenix has seldom l heard.
 Lada had danced,
 She came back to bow and smile her appreciation, but her enravished watchers would have none of that And presently the entrancing strains of The Blue Danube" were heard again, and again the 1.-the form swayed and swlrled in gay abandon, and again the house hung in delight on her slightest move.
 Yes. straight into the hearts of all who beheld her danced Lada- whether in waltz or mazurka, whether in gay Hungarian dance or as Scottish maid. In the Hungarian dance her feet, clad in little red boots. twinkled so fast the eye could not follow them And clad as a Grecian maiden, played with a. great orange -colored balloon-toss- ing it Up into the air with graceful hands. bouncing it along the floor. and letting it lie. while she danced around it like a playful child. on bare feet which touched the floor scarcely more
 than did the balloon. There was a mazurka. done in a golden gown, which
 was a poem of motion and posturing
 And there was Maurine Dyer, with
 her voice of liquid sweetness and an
 enunciation so pure that every word
 Ol ilci SoHSS COulu De uuQeTSlOOO- The
 aria from Joan of Arc" splendidly
 sung, brought Ben Bolt'' as its encore
 And this was so appreciated that she must come back and sing it over again
 Her Danny Boy" in the same clear
 tones, was a treat to the many Of us
 who have sat through a, song, strainins
 ears to catch a well-known word here and there.
 Next there was the bewitching little French dance which Lada gave, while
 Miss Dyer sang the accompanyins i words-a combination so pleasing that
 the audience would not let them rest , until they had repeated it
 . At the end of the performance 2 |, marvellous thing happened-somethins for which every true artist longs. but which rarely comes-the audience re- fused to leave, even after double en- core had been given of Johnny Comes t Marching Home" It sat on, and , clapped and stamped and called Lads l back and back. until at last she came
 with flushed face and. bright eyes. tc