The Birmingham age-herald., 1921-02-23
"PA ATRICOLA'

JlWj day before yesterday. was dead
 tired, just plain, old-fashioned tired, one of those black days" like the adorable Little Lady of the Big House" of Jack London's used to talk about when she spoke of her white nights" (when she couldn't sleep) and her black days" (when she couldn't thinkJ, tired of myself, tired of people, tired of things, tired, tired, tired-tired like imagine people get who contract the Sleeping sickness" or the hook worm' or spring fever"-yes, that's the tired feeling I felt, and l just wanted to be by myself, away from everybody and everything, and just hang around" and be an "onlooker" in the merry whirl-and forget So ambled into the Lyric--attracted by the glitteringly. lovely posters of Geraldine Farrar in her stunning pho- toplay, The Riddle Woman" and there 1 sat and enjoyed myself await ing the regular programme of vauGe- vile.
 l hadn't meant to write story about anything or anybody; that's an unusual position for me to occupy, because l can't remember the day when I've just gone into theatre, plain so, like "sho huff folks" and sat down and enjoyed myself like a human being, but that
  day when To and behold, "all of suddint" there came on the stage the , loveliest looking girl-dark, swarthy skinned, tall, slender and graceful as lily; jet black hair and big gray black eyes, and I looked on the pro- gramme and saw that her name was ! 'Patricola."
 Rhymes with 'Coca-cola.' 'Chero- cola, Rye-ola., and lot of other .n1a I md ha be nice sort of girl"
 If you saw Patricola' you remember that she wore a stunning black gown, and her graceful and refined manner indicated before she began to sing or play her violin that she was distinctive different radiant star shining through myriads of lesser stars, real gem of vaudeville, and when l turned to a nice gentleman friend" of mine, who had come in and sat next to me, and asked him who Patricola is, he laughingly turned the tables on me and said;
 why Dolly you are way behind the times: Patricola is one of the highest salaried. biggest top-liners in vaude- ville."
 Maybe it was that tired feeling" that had made my brain lethargic but at the mention of high salaries" and
 
 and put my thinking capv on and re- membered.
 And this is what I recalled: Patricola is one of Broadway's favorites; when she plays at the Pal ace she turns 'em away; and when the new million dollar vaudeville theatre in New Orleans was opened week be- fore last she was chosen to do the honors." and here was I, almost for getting.
 heard her sing, and saw her play her violin with her graceful, gracious movements, her sense of humor bub- bling through everything she sang and played-whether a Yiddish song of the Fanny Brice variety, or an Irish ditty which John Mccormack might have corraled. or yet a dainty fandango, which required all her skill with the "G" string or the nth" string, and all the other old strings of her fondly loved fiddle, and I decided she was quite worth while" I After the programme was over | went back stage" to see Patrfcola, just walked in, unannounced, unher- aided, and there I found her sitting in her dressing room, her pretty black frock and her heightened color from the excitement of her first appearance here giving her an animated and charming expression.
 In her broken English she invited me to be seated and then I asked her to tell me about her name, first, be- cause you'll admit that it is unusual and that it is attractive. Its my fathers name, my own. Pa tricola," she said proudly. My real name, or at least my front name Is Isabelle but I like Patricola and jnst left off Isabelle because I thought iti was different and catchy" There was no mistaking her nation- ality-Italian, born and bred-and while I was commenting upon this fact she dived into her big wardrobe trunk and "fished" out some old fashioned pictures of her family. her father, her mother, her pretty self. and her little baby brother, all sitting in row. ready to Took pleasant" and be snapped" by the camera man.