The Washington times., 1927-04-28

DGtCHICGUs
Her name! Ruth Molyneaux!
l saw her first in a little piece
called What! No Prince?''-the
St. Pats did it last fall and it pro-
iected her to the attention OF those
critical creatures who make a
practice OF being synthetic about
plays and players.
Then again in neutrality-suspicious. !"
the hydra headed revue, now cur.
rent at Carroll Hall.
She is unlike anyone I've ever
seen - May magic danced in her
eyes and all the finest dreams of
men lighted her smile as she sat
in the shadows silken wrap
tossed aimlessly about her shout
ders.
She dances, she sings, she acts
and yet--she is not a ingenue.
Her charm is neither collegiate nor
matineeish. Or. for that matter
is 1t napperesque.
Rather 1t is elusiye-Arcadian!
Hers is an ineffable quality of
naivete!
There! You have a word that
describes her.
You look at her. hear her speak,
watch the chameleon loneliness of
her eyes and
Think of gardens, heavy with
the scent of jassamine--
Broad meadows. stepped in the
liquid silver of hundred million
stars
Pale fairy rings beneath a lat
tice.work of autumn leaves on
mystic nights
Knarled tree.haunts of pic.
turesque gnomes, wearing peaked
hats: servants to capricious Nell
sandes, patterned from white
clouds and a distillation of rain
bow colors-
You look into her eyes and
think of fragrant heaven-touched
melodies by Richard Strauss and
Humperdinck, who composed
"The Miracle" and "Snow-White."
You gaze, hearing not her
words. but the naiad nuances of
her arresting voice.
Surely here is the rich quintes-
sence Of
Seventeen
Such a fantasy of bewildering
beauty is Ruth Molyneaux.
There in the shadows she sat
and told me much about herself
much that impressed me-titani-
cally! More especially did this
Maeterlinckian girl amaze when 1
realized that she doesn't belong to
the age.
Dropped into an epoch that bub-
bles with materialism; crime that
rivals the heyday OF Romanesque
Decentralization; obscene and
risque humor, insolent and revolt
ing; murder on a wholesale and re-
tail basis; stark, blunt realism
with such age Ruth Molyneaux
doesn't exactly belong.
And her dreams are not of these
times. She is eighteenth century.
or those far away times OF
miniatures on ivory, duelling
matches in the gray dawn and
low, Takish taverns where rollick-
ing coaches halt for a change of
grays.
No. she isn't stage-struck. The
footlights mean adventure to this
darling of the gods. Not a solace
to her egotism.
She likes to play--that is. to act.
dance and sing-because play
means building dreams. then
bringing them to full realization.
Did emphasize her talents?
No? Well, she has distinct and
outstanding ones.
Considered apart from her within
steal radiance. Ruth Molyneaux is
gifted. And like the dream. girl she
is, her moments OF play (again her
moments Of performing under spot.
lights. mean are real to her
she whisks through them with all
: the yerve and vividness that
sparkled in Marco Polo when he
set out for the borders of Old
Cathay
heard her laughingly say
great many things, all fine and
richly.visioned, and decided that
she knows more of life. its
secret meaning, than most Of the
rest of us.
Only one thing did she stress
SERIOUSLY ,t
81 never expect to marry"
Which added merrily to the
glory already hers.
But in that she II wrong: She
Is. perhaps unknowingly. mar
ried-linked inseparably to the
best Of all the great spiritual