Evening star., 1936-08-09


adena and also almost into
Il Il Lily Pons. Train passengers
for two days had been fascinated by
the quiet lady with the red hair, who
spoke no word of English, who carried
a black bag on which was stamped the
initials M p" and whose wide-open
stateroom door revealed large photo
graph of Lily Pons on top of trunk.
TT can't be Lily Pons. herself"
said vaudeville's Bill Mandel (on his
way to the coast to appear with Flea
nor Powell in Born to Dance") OBJ
viously he was right. But it was her
best friend and incidentally her moth
er. And mother Maria Pons, after in
Productions had been made, spoke en-
Enthusiastically about not only her
daughter, but about Washington, the
climate, the Monument and what a
splendid person is D. C's Mrs. Law
renee Townsend.
So when the train roars into the
peaceful town Of Pasadena, the sun
beating down on the white of the
streets and the palm trees which shoot
up way out Of sight, the end of the
journey is climaXed by the sight of
Lily Pons jumping up and down on
the platform, awaiting her mother and
eventually almost knocking down q
pack Of wide-eyed school children as
she dashes for her parent and EN-
braces her with good old-fashioned
hug.
Miss Pons is a pleasant herald of
Hollywood. Her hair is short and
crisp and curled up at the ends. Her
skirt is pair of white trousers, her
blouse Is dark blue, open at the throat;
her eyes sparkle and her smile extends
around the block She looks about u.
You know then that Hollywood can't
be very far around the corner by the
squad OF worshipers which has made
its appearance. Pencils and pads are
whipped out like magic, and soon
that slow siren cry that inevitably
surrounds the picture" great makes
its appearance: please, Miss Pons.
won't you--?" upon which the pads
and the pencils and also peoples jaws
are stuck forward with grim deter
n1inatton as they await her auto
graph.
Miss Pons Is. however, too busy with
Mamma and Mammals S luggage to stop
for that. She waves cheerfully at
the group. Says sorry" with her
eyes. then wheels Mamma of to the
waiting barouche which is black and
shiny and which somehow seems far
too large for the very small Miss
Pons and her also small mother.
Blonds Are More Scarce.
SO the train starts again and rum
bles into Los Angeles and there stands
M-G-Ms handsome Kay Mulvey as
welcoming committee. And there In
much to be said as the car speeds
into Hollywood and strangely enough
the blondS on the streets look yery
much like last years blonds on the
streetS-only there aren't so many Of
them and some Of them have turned
red and others a sort Of dark maroon,
But the town looks very much the
same; outside the Brown Derby are
clustered those same strange little
faces which wait all year for q glimpse
Of Dietrich or Gary Cooper; all the
automobiles, which seem to have been
born only yesterday, are driven by
women who hope that II they wear
dark glasses somebody will mistake
them for Garbo or Jean Harlow: the
Trocadero still huns with laughter
and champagne and motion picture
magnates, struggling to learn the
rhumba; the towns heart is very
much on the side Of the battling Mary
Astor; and when the car arrives at
the Roosevelt It bustles with activity
and with more sun-tanned actors and
actresses than you can shake stick
at.
There are things to be done before
even suiteases car Be opened and put