The Washington times., 1936-01-16

0au SuCCGSSA uuy AAuSA@SSO GAAO
pessimistic predictions of the
physicians. As far back as Nov
ember "a, 1884, he wrote for his
''MemOry Lane" here about his
illness while he was at Radio
City Music Hall: II was finally
carried out on q strtcher, and
1 later learned that l wasn't ex.
pected to recover. A long layOff
was the answer. Even when l
felt like getting back into har.
ness again, the doctors insisted
on rest and travel. l will live
to be SO-and see every one Of
my doctors gone, no doubt,
before my turn comes. have
too much work to do. I can't
afford to die right now" On
Friday afternoon he called up:
"Do me a favor" he said. will
you please eliminate part Of
that paragraph where wrote
/ will live to be 80 and see my
doctors die first, and so fOrth?"
"Why?" I asked.
"People would misunderstood
and it might make the doc
tors feel very bad-they might
think I'm laughing at them"
Poor .R0xy-gOne at So
with 80 much real work ahead
that he was eager to tackle.
Sophie Tucker celebrated what
she solemnly assured was her
49th birthday Sunday night at
the House Of Morgan. It was a
birthday party that for a time
threatened to convert itself into
an all7star show. Thus, Mr.. Rudy
Vallee sang a sentimental little
song about birthdays in general
and how they move the world;
MessrS. Chick Endor and Charlie
Farrell, after lamenting for sew
eral verses the type of songs
which had driven them daffy. up
to the current insanity, THE
Music Goes Round, etc." fin
ished up in a touching tribute to
Sophie to the melody of Some
Of These Days" Mr.. Eddie Cantor
did not sing but he did sigh as
he recalled that Miss Tucker had
a son-and he had five girls. Mr..
Cantor also repeated his favorite
You are big, Sophie-yeS, big
but you have to be big to house
the biggest heart on Broadway"
"a sentiment which met with
considerable and undoubtedly
sincere favor on the part Of the
guests.
Mr.. Harry Richman hurried
over from the Versailles to cut
the birthday cake. and the three
lunatics of Broadway, the Ritz
brothers, dashed in, sank their
faces into the chocolate mush
and then kissed whoever was
nearest. Mr.. Harry Ritz did an
Apache dance with Miss Tucker.
Mr.. Bert Lair did a solo tango
and then enticed friend and foe
into ring-around-the-rosy. Miss
Tucker danced with her grown-up
son. Mr.. Harry Ritz did the
dance of the dying swan. Mr..
Ozzie Nelson kissed his bride,
Miss Harriet billiard. Mr.. Ted
Husing looked Somber and dis
traught. Miss Eve Sully did
rhumba. Mr. Joe Moss straight
ened the jacket of his English
morning suit and Mr.. Harry
Kannen remarked that Miss
Helen Morgan may return any
month now. It is fitting and
proper that these details of a
birthday party be recorded. for
Miss Tucker insists it's her last
stars who reach fifty no longer
celebrate, she says.
Miss Mae Murray sat at the
Stork Club Saturday night.
Miss Murray is a fIuttery type
4 whose speech when transferred
to print should be italicized and
capitalized to get some idea Of
how she talks. But she's far
from dumb. On the contrary
I have begun to realize what
a genuinely brainy person she
is after Saturday nights con-
versatiOn. What she had to say
rang along something like this
without the italics or capitals:
"Well, goodness, I'm not just
going to let them put me into
anything and then have people
shake their heads and say well
isn't it funny how one minute
you're nD and the other minute
you're down. Look at that Mae
Wrrray-remember her in the
Merry Widow'?-welI, hasn't
she slipped. always knew
she was a flash in the pan.
I'm not going to let them say
that that's why I'm not &C
ceptinR engagements until I'm
sure it's something I can do
and people won't shake their
heads. AdOlph Zukor, sweet
soul, had such plans for me.
too. But I can afford to just
sit back and take my time he
cause I have my monthly in
c"me-not too large. YOU under
sFand-hut I ran always live
IN it without stinting too much.
But oh. I couIdnt remain a
snectatOr on the sidelines too
much-I must go back-it is
nv art, YOU knOw-that is so
much more imnortapt, YOU
krOw-than bread and atten-
t'nn. love DeopIe-I want
them 70 love me. And thev
do-I'II never let them down."
Miss Wilma Crittenden. whose
poems have been heading off this
column every So often for nnany