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Photograph by Kenneth Alexander
Old Dreams and New Realities
Doris Kenyon dips her pen in gold to write of Richard Barthelmess — and rhapsodizes a little
THERE are days and days, placidly following other days in our lives, but sometimes, now and then, there comes a day. I’ve had a few like that, all capitalized with happiness. There was the day in North Carolina I climbed the tall hill in the rain. It was then I discovered how April comes, and I fulfilled some dreams — but that’s another story. This is the story about a day when I discovered Richard Barthelmess. I say “discovered” because, altho 1 had not actually known him before then, I had thought many complimentary things, about him and on this special day I discovered they were all true.
It wasn’t April on the hill in the rain (altho the day was full of the eerie mists that April wears), it was at the Algonquin at exactly a quarter before two. Now the Algonquin has become so famous one doesn’t explain it often any more, but if there are some to whom *t sounds like an Indian statue, I hasten to proclaim that it is a popular and wise hotel, situated on West Forty-foutth Street.
We were to have luncheon there and I was going to talk to Mr. Barthelmess about these special things I thought of him.
From the moment 1 saw him I liked him. as he said in a gracious manner and all in one breath : “How do you do, , Miss Kenyon, forgive me, I’m late I know, but heavens I’ve had such a time and I feel dreadful being so late I want to apologize a million times !” I felt he was genuine.
I dont know whether it was the straightforward manner in which he looked at me, or the firm, earnest way he shook my hand, but to me he breathed sincerity. Later I asked what quality in people impressed him most when he first met them. “Well,” he said, “I rather think it depends upon one’s own mood at the moment. Sometimes I feel people’s charm, sometimes their personality, or then again their sincerity or a brilliant mind first of all. It just depends upon one’s self.”
Perhaps he is right, but I’m sure it didn’t in the least depend upon myself or my mood, that I felt from the first
moment he was a real person. He fairly radiates it.
In his manner there is neither assumption nor diffidence ; there is rather, an entire absence of selfconsciousness.
Finally, the ordeal of ordering luncheon was over, and it was an ordeal for me. For some reason or other my eyes focused stupidly
Doris Kenyon is one of our most gifted young stars. She acts before the camera and on the stage, and is a writer of charming verse. She is to open very soon in a play called “The Gift ” by Julia Chandler and Althea Luce. Meanwhile she is interviewing other stars, but the drazvback is, they all want to talk about Doris instead of themselves
( Fourteen )