The Wilmington morning star., 1941-01-16
THIRTY-TWO
WRITTEN FOR AND RELEASED BY
NTRAL PRESS ASSOCIATION

New YORK uldt ouii
October when Kit went out to orln&
her back.
She was bound for the train tina
was to return her to New 4ort
when a taxi collision sent her tc
the hospital with a broken ankle
There were flowers and books an
other gifts that arrived by tele
graph and post. But it was the let
tiers from Vance and Kit, unfolding
a story of work and courage anc
accomplishment, that lessened the
pain and fed her hope.
Vance's July letter began the
story. He wrote, in part: .
I'm the guy who should be get
ting sympathy. Trying to run my
own career and play Simon Legree
to Kit will have me in a sanitarlIr
any day. But, you'll BE pleased tt
know, Pm making strides in the
right direction. We gave Heller the
buns rush and Armenia, abou
whom 1 have already written you,
is undoing Helfier's mistakes rap
idly. .
MY end of the show is getting
engagements for her under inc
other name (Mary Moore), which
she uses in her double life. She
tells me that she is writing you
about these engagements so III
spare you the details.
"Armend is a fabulous guy, but
he's sound. He isn't easy to put or
paper"
Armenia! Armenia and his dra
mates. Armenia was an artist
needing an artist to depict him
His dramatics were subjects for
bold strokes. The coarse red hand
kerchief with which he wiped his
great brow. The black curls
clutched with frenzied fingers. The
black eyes that rolled with agony
when a high note splintered, that
glowed with warmth when a sweet,
round note fell upon his ear.
His we're eyes that saw below
the surface of things, wise eyes
that probed and searched the face
of Kit O'Reilly the day that Vance
brought her to him. There were
things in the sensitive nostrils, the
eager eyes, the plant mouth of the
girl that he had wanted to fine
there. Sleeping things she did MOI
know herself.
She sang for him.
He nodded slowly. She had {
MISUNDERSTANDING little one.
But she must begin anew. She
must begin anew. She must be
taught to use it. But, first, there
were other things she must learn
Armenia would teach her those
things. He would teach her to fee.
through her senses; he would make
use of that sensitivity he read ir
her face. For her there must be no
subtle shadings; she had not ye'
learned the primary responses O
life. She had laughed, yes, but die
she know laughter? He meant hel
to know laughter? He meant hel
to know laughter, and anger, anc
Pity and sentiment and JOY.
Laugher ...
Armenia the artist became Ar
mendi the clown when he wanted
to hear her laugh. Armenia, with
her silly little hat perched on his
huge head, her silver fox about his
shoulders, mimicing across the
basement kitchen. Kit laughed de
lightedly and his antics became
more ridiculous until she rocked
with laughter and the tears came te
her eyes. Then, the clown became
the master and he commanded hel
to loose her voice in rollickine
song.
He never taught her to be angry
but he used anger to make hel
sing when he knew she could anc
there were no other means to draw
from her throat What he knew was
there. When she was hot and tree
with c%easeless effort, when t h
strident voice of the Ghetto outside
the windows of the basement were
more than she could sing against
Armenia rained a torrent of i'm
passioned Italian about her ears
and demanded to know if she
thought the world a concert stage
for one soloist. Kit sang.
But when he was angry because
she refused to understand him, hi
was gentle and patient. He knew
the delicacy of the instrument hi
was tempering.
1t was more than pity that XII
experienced the day he made he,
walk with HMM the wake of {
hurdy-gurdy into the streets
broiled by the August sun, thanked
by the wretched tenements of the
poor. Beauty was a stranger t.
that neighborhood and Nature wa.
not kindly. But something stirred
and Weakened there as the mechan
ical music rose on the hot air. I
was something that lightened face.
darkened by toll and poverty. XII
saw and sensed the power of es
cape in music and felt, in herself
a tremendous sense of duty toward
the power in her to use it.
Sentiment
To make her body but a shell fol
the spirit that must burn there lik.
a flame before it could serve her
Armenia fed her mind, weavins
tales of the great. The soft, rict
voice spun on and on with the col
orful threads Of memories and ira
ditional lore until the company il
his basement kitchen grew witt
the glamorous ghosts that cam,
out of Time and crowded the shad
owy room. The twilight slipped int,
niohf. the candles fic,Arinn Aa,,