The Waterbury Democrat., 1935-06-14
BIZ arHuHAEL FAME

THAT scrroWful blonde" unused
Jarvis OF the Post Herald; "that
weeping willow OF . woman;
that" he turned the phrase
with a caption writer's junction.
that tragic ladyl i've seen her
somewhere, I know"
Jarvis edged his way through
the throngs that stood in front Of
Wynant's funeral parlors to be
nearer to the lady who OF all the
mob had commanded his attention.
She was pathetic figure--tall,
very slender, with great dark eyes
heavy with weeping; in black
from head to foot; her pale yell
low hair beautiful under q dark
turban. Jarvis looked at the tears
which trembled on her lashes and
thought: "Thoge are the first
real tears that have been shed
over Philip Benevento's death, I'd
swear. And bet any money there's
a story here"
Jarvis looked cynically at the
assembled hacks, at the thousands
OF "mourners" who overflowed the
funeral home and blocked traffic
for blocks about. A grand show II
was. The well-taiiored, we'll
groomed corpse Of Philip Beneven-
to had lain for three days in an OK
pensive casket, garnished with all
the mournful elegance which
Wynant, Mortician, could provide.
80
The crowds who had admired
him living admired him dead.
His seductive Latin smile, wistful
eyes. darkly curling hair--the
totally Of his charms had made
jelly Of the hearts Of the nations
fair wherever his shadow fell on
whatever screen.
suavely played as any. The en-
balmers had done him all justice.
His hair still darkly curled; his
eyes, though closed, were wistful;
his mouth still smiled seductively.
He was q beautiful cadaver.
Today the engagement was to
close. The great doors In the ia
cade of Wynant's funeral parlors
were flung open. The costly cof-
fin was borne by three movie stars,
two executives and director. The
cortege began to assemble.
The doors Of the hearse were
closed. Black-garbed menials Of
Wynant's funeral parlors, their WIS.,
ages suitably doleful, moved softly
and swiftly about helping the
grief-stricken into their hacks.
Then before the hearse could
move off there came q low, stran-
gled sobbing. Those who were near
enough to hear it--Jarvis Of the
Post Herald among them-turned
quickly to the spot from which 1t
came. 1t was she-the Tragic Lady.
Her black-gloved hands claspcd
tightly, she was moaning softly:
"Philippo! Philippo!" Then she fell
to the ground and her sobbing
ceased.
Jarvis was among the first of
several to leap to her assistance.
He lifted her in his arms and
looked down into the pale face.
There were dark circles under her
eyes. Again Jarvis thought: "Tve
seen her somewhere, I'm certain
| Of It."
"Give her to me, please" an
anxious voice requested. Jarvis
glanced at the speaker. He was
tall, young, well-dressed. And he
looked very worried. He, too, wore
black. tr Ia
II lost track Of her in the crowd
poor girl!' he explained. "She's
not we'll at ALL" He took her from
Jarvis arms. She had regained
consciousness by now and stood
up, leaning against her escorts
shoulder. The crowd pressed close.
Who was this beautiful foreigner
who had tainted with grief as the
body of movie idol was borne
past her? Ears strained to hear her
half-whispered words, spoken with
a marked accent:
I'm so sorry she said weakly,
brokenly. 1T was foolish of me-"
Her escort whispered something
to her softly. She said no more.
One after another the hacks were
pulling away. The tragic lady and
her smoothly solicitous friend had
withdrawn a few steps from the
scene of the outburst. The crowd
respectfully made place for them.
Jarvis of the Post Herald lis.
tened to the whispered guesses OF
those around him, '"They say ne
had a wife In italy," a woman said.
"She looked italian except for the
hair" another ventured.