From under my hat (1952)

From under my Hat "Extremely." Then I realized that the call from Mr. Simmons was the hotel's way of checking on a lady traveling alone. Smart people, the English, and I've never underrated their intelligence. Many earth-shattering events took place in 1923: Adolf Hitler staged his famous Beer Hall Putsch in Munich; Red Grange played his first college football game for Illinois; Henry Luce started Time magazine; Jack Dempsey knocked out Luis Angel Firpo in the second round— and Tallulah Bankhead captured London singlehanded. Charles Cochran, the British theatrical producer, invited me to the opening of The Dancers, which marked Tallulah's first London appearance. The way it came about makes quite a story. Ira Hill, famous New York photographer, kept a picture of Talu in his Fifth Avenue showcase. When Cochran noticed it he stood stockstill for a full minute. Tallulah was wearing an off-shoulder black velvet gown with real lace around the top. Next day Cochran lunched with Frank Case at the Algonquin and commented on the remarkable picture he'd seen in Hill's case. Did Frank know the girl? Was she an actress? Looking across the dining room, Case spotted Talu and said to Cochran, "Like to meet her?" "I say, old boy, I'd enjoy nothing more." Frank called, "Tallulah, come here a minute." Over she sped. "May I present you to Mr. Charles Cochran," Case said. No need to tell Talu who he was; she knew. Cochran commented on the beautiful picture and asked what experience she'd had in the theater. She'd been in several plays, none lasted very long. Cochran said, "If you ever get to England, come to me; I'll give you a job." "Remember," she cried, "I have a witness. You promised. You won't back out?" Cochran said gallantly, "Nor will I forget." Talu was at a turning point. Her idol Jack Barrymore was newly married. She was out of cash. "I've got to get to London," she thought, "but on what?" 128