The Washington times., 1936-03-03

easy to be lazy here.
The B (of the B-Bar-H rep
resents Charlie Bender, who came
to this arid desolation 13 year!
ago, sucked water from the re
luctant earth after a years drill
ing, planted date trees and shade
trees and created a miniature
paradise. The H Is for Luciar
Hubbard, his partner. Metro pro
ducer in hi" spare moments. The
place accommodates some 80 hand
picked guests and it's no place
for a haraSsed Broadwayite seek
ing to get away from it all, foi
our companions here have been
among others, Harpo and Zeppc
Marx. LibrettiSt Howard DletZ
Playwright Sid Kingsley. Twenty
ones Baron, Jack Kriendler. Gin
ema's Gallahad Joel McCrea and
his fetching bride, Frances Dee
Hollywood'S affable playboy. Pat
de Cicco and Walter Kane.
Here. too. are Katharine Alex
ander, widow of William Brady
jr., Helene Costello, KEITH Gallian
Pat Wilder, Mrs. Ed Knopf, Sheila
Browning.
On this wild and wOOlly ranch
Jack Kriendler, attired in hi
narrow heeled boots, chaps, q
red. green and mauve ban
danna, q 3O-gallOn sOmbrerO and
o shirt which added seven un-
mentiOnabIe cOl0rS to the rain
bows quota, suffered an ignO-
minious rOut yesterday in a
ping-pOng joust with Mustang
Mike" Dietz-lOSing a case Of
Scotch. As he Tlunk off the
battlefield, two Of the native
born cowboys rode up aid one
tipped his wide lid and drawled.
"Pardner, you mind tellin' us
where we ian get one dem dere
hellish-fine cowboy shirts?"
Harpo Marx. il. a red turtle
neck sweater, green pants and
iungle.brogans, roarS, "Yip al
Yai," as he pounds out a piano
accompaniment for the three COW
boys chanting Western rourdelays
written by Ghetto sheep-herders'
"Two-Gun Sidney" Kingsley,
here to complete his annotations
for the book-version of his Dead
End" (the picture rights, as you
might have read, were peddled
the other day to Sam Goldwyn
for $165 ,O00), demonstrates his
skill with a hand-howitzer Dor,
rowed from Cowboy Paul Bender
by hitting the head Of a beer
bottle the very first time-atter
81 misses. Helene Costello, look
ing like a pretty edition Of Bron,
cho Annie, in a complete and
presumably authentic costume
suuats in an easy chair reading
movie mags. .zeppo Marx, warned
by his physician not to get too
far away from an ample supply
of orange juice, walks through
sagebruSh and cacti, throug g h
main-hall and dining room. in an
eye-deStroying green bag-shirt, car
rying a small pot of orange juice
In front of him. .240-pound Ho-
tel Man Nate Kramer provides a
few tender moments by making
his appearance in shorts, which
we would suggest to Billy Rose
as an essential equipment for
Jumbo. Katharine Alexander
fingers by the edge of the pool
materially watching her hand
some little gal as she takes her
plunge
We drive into the Racquet
and Tennis Club at Palm
Springs as Frank Morgan, in a
saffrOn.hued Sweat-shirt and
green beret, is polishing off a
youth opponent on the courts
An airplane rOars danger
Ously low overhead and finally
lands From it emergeS Paul
Lukas. Harold Lloyd enters
with Mildred Davis, stOutiSh
but still very pretty ."YOu
must have been good all your
life," he insists That's why
they let you into Heaven here"
E. Robert Taylor sits at a cor.
ner table and Townsend
Netcher gets up from another
to say hello. Constance (Tal.
madge)," he says, "is still feel.
ing wObbly. She's been q sick
girl". Freeman COsden 1--we
fOrgOtten-iS he Amos or Andy
or bOth?) drifts in "I
think I'll retire next year and
settle down here for life-well,
anyway, for a week or two"
The Racquet Club, started q
few years ago by Charles Far.
rell and Ralph Bellamy with
Virginia Valli as its amiable
hostess, is Palm Springs chief
assembly spot in the afternoon,
and its clientele would turn
Messrs. Billingsley and PerOna
(Manhattan's caterers to so
called society green and yel-
low with envy.
At the Desert Inn, Eva Farrell,
q seductively attractive nymph
in her shorts, halls us and drags
us over to meet young Emil New.