Pictures and the Picturegoer (Jan-Dec 1925)

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JANUARY 1925 Picture s and Picture puer e evircsevvewkEK You can spell it either way, with one " r " for the Kansas town where she was born or with two " r's " for Claire herself and you'll be right each time. Claire? She's a Cawker. Spell it either way. With one " r " for the town where she was born. With two " r's " for Claire herself. For she's a game little soul, and a clever little soul, and as lovely a little soul as you'll find in a mid-winter day. Claire's taken the knocks that life gave her and bobbed up smiling. She has taken the knocks that casting directors and producers gave her and come up smiling still. Claire as an actress has never made a great shine — I do not think she will ever make a very great shine — but she has rested the eyes of picturegoers, tired of artificial beauty, all the world over. Claire is a thing to make any picture lovely. She cries out, with every line of her body and expression of her face, for ungrudging superlatives of admiration. Oh, she's a corker, Claire. . . . Only that's not her name. Her real name is Ola Kronk. Claire Windsor with a fan letter she received from Sheik Ali Ibrahim of Arabia. Claire Windsor and her son Billy are both ardent golfers. She told me so .herself, in our first few minutes of conversation, because, she said, the name was so ugly that she likes to relieve her soul with a full confession of it from the beginning. I can dimly hear her telling me the early story of Ola — but only dimly, for to be truthful those first minutes of our interview are still in my memory little more than a dream of gold and appleblossom and beauty. Claire's too lovely. Che takes your breath away. She seems to have more than her fair share of the good things of Aphrodite, so many charms, such an assemblage of all the lovely things that belong to all the lovely women of the screen, that you can scarcely believe in her as an individual being at all. The princesses in fairy stories, with hair like the sun and eyes like the stars and cheeks like the blossom of a May morning must have come to Claire's christening, and made .her like themselves. Right through the first part of the conversation I was studying her colouring, so blue and pink and gold, and the grace of her movement, and the fit of her simple white frock and close-clinging toque. I believe she told me that she had been playing tennis — that she always played tennis when she had been working hard, to rest her mind. I believe she told me that her mother looked after Billy while she was at the studio, but that she always hurried home