Paramount Pep-O-Grams (1927)

P E P-O-G RAMS With this installment we are reluctantly compelled to bring Sam Cohen’s Paramount Peregrinations in Epicurean Europe to an untimely finish. Our reason is none other than the fact that Sam has made his accounts so vividly real — and so maddeningly appetizing — that we have been besieged with Paramounteers who want to go. abroad and make sure that Sam hasn’t mixed his “fettucini” with his “Ravioli.” In fact this urge to travel abroad has so nearly reached a precarious point that we figured the safest thing we could do was to curtail Sam’s vacation in Rome and have him travel as speedily as possible through Berlin to New York. “WHEN IN ROME— ’ By Sammy Cohen When I arrived in Rome. I was all set to do as the Romans do. But an hour s stroll around town soon drove that idea out of my head. I discovered that nine-tenths of the native population were soldiers of one kind or another, who wore a bewildering' variety of the most colorful uniforms imaginable. Never, outside of the comic opera or musical comedy have I seen such a brave and brilliant display. But if I couldn’t do as the Romans do. I could at least eat what the Romans eat. And five minutes after I had downed a heaping plateful of “fettucini,” I had inside information that the Italians know their noodles! For that’s all “fettucini” is — elongated noodles. Prepared with tasty bits of cheese it is a gastronomic delight. Of course, the staple democratic dish throughout Italy is spaghetti. You know with what affection the average American contemplates a plate of ham and eggs. You have heard of the German’s yearning love for frankfurters and sauerkraut. Well, this affection and this love is a pale and sickly thing compared with the Italian’s purple passion for his spaghetti. “A jug of wine, a loaf of bread, and thou beside me singing in the wilderness.” was Omar Khayyam’s idea of paradise. But to the simple Roman of today, a jug of Chianti wine, a load of spaghetti and a chunk of cheese represent a heaven on earth. And who shall sav the ancient Persian was right and the modern Italian wrong? After all, what did Omar know of paradise? He was a tent-maker! Perhaps I should mention, while I’m on the subject of food, that during my stay in Rome. T had dinner one evening with the Governor, Prince Potenziani. In the interest of truth, however, I should add that the Prince was unaware of the honor. He happened to be sitting at the table on my right in a public restaurant, the Umberto. This unexpected meeting was not without its educational value. T mean quite aside from the opportunity it offered to see what a scion of royalty and a descendant of the Caesars looked like. What? Why certainly I stared at him. Surely, if a cat can look at a king, a Cohen can look at a Prince! I saw the waiter place before him a plate heaped high with freshly-cooked spaghetti. It was | spaghetti in the first flush of youth, full of vim and vigor and vitality. It wriggled and squirmed. it twisted and turned, it quivered with suppressed emotion every time the fork came within tickling distance! And how did the Governor rise to the occasion? Did he attack the spirited spaghetti with a firm and practiced hand? Did he boldly spear that restless mass in front of him and then suddenly transfer a wiggly portion of it from his Plate to his esophagus? Nay, gentle reader. he did nothing of the sort! He was even as von and T’ He had one grand time with that spaghetti! Page Nine OUR FAMOUS VISITORS Sometimes whole bunches of months pass without a Paramount star making the rounds of the Paramount and Publix organizations: but this last month was a little different, for we had visits from no less than four who do their share in keeping Paramount Pictures as “The best show in town!” Harold Lloyd gave over many hours — precious hours in a crowded stay, to meeting the folks and really getting to know the organizations. Some of these hours were put in in the foreign department, where he mastered the intricacy of saying his own name in the obscure dialects of Saghalien and the even lesser renowned language of Gugurati, to say nothing of Siamese, Syrian and Senegambian. \*i Harold Lloyd Charles Rogers and Nancy Carroll, here for personal appearances in conection with “Abie’s Irish Rose,” roamed around the floors and collected a lot of hearts to take back to Hollywood with them. We know at least seven people — yes, positively — who will have to requisition new hearts. The fourth of our visitors was Bobby Vernon, star of Paramount-Christie Comedies, and one of the finest and most common-sensical of the screen s players. So you see that what with first one thing, and then another, life hasn’t been so dull and drab these past few weeks. Not that it really ever is; but people’s minds, being what they are, often imagine things whoa! this is getting into deep water, whereas all that we wanted to do was to tell you that you Pepsters have had a wonderful time being visited by the stars recently. T. C. Y. IN NEW SURROUNDINGS We are mighty happy to see Theodore C. Young, head of Paramount’s Real Estate Department, newly installed in a modern office on the 44th Street side of the tenth floor of the Paramount Building. 1 Ted Young was a real stalwart in the business of making the Ball a success; and it all goes to show you that good things come to those who merit them. FOR THE DEATHUESS DEAD The Buddy Poppy Department of the Veterans of Foreign Wars of the Umted States asks that we remind you of their annual national Buddy Poppy Sales which will be held during the week of Memorial Day. Sure! We’ll remind you! But if you have to be reminded of so sacred an occasion, and so worthy a cause , please send us your name and we’ll print it in scarlet ink. No* — not scarlet, for that is the color of the blood that stained the poppies red. Now stand by to buy, the poppies colored red; for those who did not die, but joined the deathless dead!