Evening star., 1933-04-09

~ Miss Ann Harding the other
" " day that sensitive artistic fed
in tears to her studio, there
by establishing precedent
for actresses rebuked by critics.
Wounded ladies of the theater, at least
the American theater, usually express
their pains in terms less temperate,
though heaven knows the chivalrous re-
viewers of this land seldom give them
reason to object. Like the Shrew's
father, we are affable and courteous
gentlemen-perhaps little fearful of a
woman's scolding tongue. As is the
habit Of the fawning zephyr, we breathe
gently on the violet, suspecting that 1t
may be poison ivy. In an aberrant mo-
ment not long ago I was rude to Miss
Mae West, forgetting my manners and
my welfare so far as to doubt, in print,
her genius. Did Miss West, then. shed
any water drops of grief? No; she
waited on the street outside my Office
with a horsewhip, according to Walter
Winchell. I was persuaded, therefore,
to enter and exit by the freight elevator.
protected by my Office dog and couple
of stalwart editorial writer's, until a
few days later there was assurance that
Miss Vests punitive ire had subsided.
All American reviewers have had
similar experience, but none, daresay,
has ever made an actress cry except
in jury. Those who are not knights by
nature have become such through in
timidation, believing, If Mr.. Belasco's
line may be quoted again, that sit is
better to lie little than to be unhappy
much" Few things afford more unhap-
piness to United States critic than
tongue flashing, written or oral, from
woman of the theater. Hence, he Is both
wary and gallant and maintains a cau-
ton that always stands him in good
stead; I have IN mind one OF last
months unlucky premiers. The play
was above the average, and it might
have had a chance II its leading actress,
brilliant though unknown player, had
not been especially unsuited to the
heroine's role. Her presence was ruin
ous yet in their ominous reports Of the
performance the Broadway reviewers
said nothing unfriendly about her. Here
was an instance where they were gal
liant rather than wary. For none of
them knew that just before the curtain
went up she had swooned in her dress
ing room because she was hungry.
should add that I have permission to
tell the story.
Ashton Stevens, drama critic Of Chi
cago, comes often to New York to say
his prayers in the Broadway joss houses
An orthodox ebeneZer, Deacon Stevens
has a sullen disbelief in evolution and
growls devoutly whenever 1t Is limited
that the cinema Is development of
and an improvement upon the old-time
religion of show business. Mention to
him such inventions of Satan as Cav
alcade" or Farewell to Arms" and he
puffs up like Richelieu and draws
around him the holy circle Of the dra-
ma, forbidding further blasphemies.
am aware that 1t Is difficult to be a
deacon and a cardinal in the same
paragraph, but Mr. Stevens performs
that feat with alacrity. I invited him
during one of his recent pilgrimages to
go to see Mr.. De Miles CORY photo
graphs of 1.-THE Sign of the Cross" but
he declined Indignantly and went to
visit Miss Beatrice Lille at the st.
James Theater.
There he discovered Lady Pell In a
frightful stew. Filled with choler.
rapt, inspired" she had just read an
impression Of her talents, written by
said, "I grow increasingly churlish
about the art of Beatrice Lille. Her
faxed stumbles and studied coyness
were amusing the first time, but after
a few years I am cloyed." There were
no sobs In Miss Lilies white throat as,
with vengeance hammering In her blue /
veins, she read the devastating mes
sage. 1.-The old fluff" she exclaimed
in balanced British and melodious ac-
cents. 'the old fluff gets my goati"
Mrs. Stevens asked Miss Lille II she
was not pleased when a New York
critic pronounced her gifts ito humor-