Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1926-07-11

'N NE new Irlanon was the OIL.
hotel in Jonesville that pro
claimed a. dinner concert OF
4 Sunday evenings, and dane
ing through the week in thu
Morse room until closing.
It was on the dancing that AR
lnand lie Brun came In, Armand wal
the leader of the New Trianon Or
chestra and lie Bruins Jazzateers, and
no fiddler was more hssome than he
nor could any wear q snappy tuxedo
with more deadly effect.
Armand lie Brun was the best JAZZ;
bandmaster between Chicago and New
York. Travelling men who stopped al
the New Trianon said so, and Jones
vile merchants who went to New York
for their Spring and Fall buying found
nothing In the furious Forties to com
pare with him. Even collegians and
world-weary prep-school lads, dancing
to the strains of LIE Bruins band dur
their languid approval on his ardent
bowling. Not even the conductor OF
the symphony orchestra Of 10 pieces
that played the pictures nightly in the
New Paradise had q wrist that could
equal Armand's. And as for his waist
And his legs! And his hair!
Armand lie Brun was not his real
name. He had taken 1t from a motion
picture screen In Nappanee, Ind,
where he had been born q Smalley.
He had been taking the interurban
car to Jonesville to play for the dances
of the Old Bachelors Club for only
one season when he saw that the
time was ripe for somebody to step
in and become the Paul Whiteman
of that thriving city. So he stepped.
and as he transferred his personal
and professional wardrobe from Nap
panee to furnished room in Jones
vile, he became Armand le Brun.
~ rs
A VILLAGE boy who grows up on
"A stale copies Of the Billboard does
not need to be told that a professional
name means something in the profess
sion. Noodles Simpson, the pianist Of
the Jazzateers, might stick to his
homely name. Noodles, who played by
bition beyond Jonesville, but Snalley,
at "a, intended to go higher. He In
tended to play concertos for $1,000 q
night, and so he had the name all
ready and waiting.
And as he led his men he followed
critically with a half.closed eye a girl
who for three evenings In succession
had danced every number with the
same man. She bothered him.
Considering that Armand intended
at the apex Of his concert career to
woo with his bow q wondrous creature
embodying all the allurements Of Clio.
ria Swanson, Norma Talmadge, Bar
bara La Mari and Corinne Griffith,
this dancing girl bothered him a lot.
There wasn't much to her. Armand,
resting to let Noodles play the refrain
through, could not imagine her exer-
cising q pair Of Russian wolf hounds
in the royal gardens he expected to
provide as setting for his bride. who
was to be Norma, Gloria, Barbara and
Corinne all in one. This girl was
small, light and blonde. She was let.
ting her hair grow in, and Armand,
who was an exquisite Of such things,
saw that she was doing 1t beautifully.
Her eyelashes, he noted, as Noodles
finished and he raised his bow to con.
clude the number. curved upward and
were darker than her hair. Her
mouth was a red splash against pal
Tor, the precise shade that told the
Violinist that she was sophisticated
TO the difiicult degree that makes the
beholder wonder II the wearer's color
Is really artificial. She was just a
pretty bit Of fun. Ordinarily. Armand
would not have noticed her. But he
did.
He was laying his violin IN its case
when q touch on his arm caused him
to look up. The partner Of the bit OF
fun was standing beside him. With q
black, tight-waisted overcoat buttoned
as neatly as an undertaker's working
clothes, and bright plaid scarf
wrapped under his pinkiy massaged
chin, he was a perfect man-about.
town. Under his arm he carried
fiat, hard hat. and he wore gray silk
gloves. He contemplated Armand dis.
mally with light, weak.looking eyes,