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The Waltz Dreamer
And California Sunshine Helps Oscar Straus To Dream
By
MOLLIE MERRICK
IIGHT luncheons with heavy lions make food for much of our Hollywood thought. ^ Since local producers acquired the habit of reaching out into the world beyond cinemaland and lifting the great from their secure retreats — for all the world like a conjurer nipping a rabbit out of thin air — you can choose your lion with impunity any day, on any lot.
Having progressed through an artistic appreciation with Mahonri Young, and a bit of dramatic dilettanting with G. A. Sil Vara, Oscar Straus claimed attention as most' famous of the musical group to be snared from the Old World.
It is a far cry from a Paris atelier to a concrete cubicle on a Hollywood studio lot. But Oscar Straus (not related to Johann Strauss, and spelled with one S) likes it. He says so — emphatically.
Don't think we arrived at this conclusion within the half-hour following our introduction. The great musician smiled upon bein^ presented, gave me the genealogical and spelling rubrics of his name, then lapsed into a profound and restful silence, the while we progressed through endless commissary tablet to our allotted one.
The Dream Waltz
QSCAR STRAUS stood out in my consciousness chiefly as composer of "The Chocolate Soldier." He it was bad given the world that waltzof maximum sex-appeal : ' Comt, come, I love you only — My heart is true; Come, come, my life is lonely — / long for you.
Come, come, naught can eface you;
My arms are aching now to embrace you;
Thou art divine!
Come, come, I love you only —
Come, hero mine!" Such things as this, I had concluded on the long drive to Culver City, are written out of burning temperaments. Are written in torrential tantrums. Have a fourth-dimenlional significance. The genius through whom such perfect
Longworlh
rhythm reaches earth must have a transcendental quality.
1 murmured something of all this as the waitress passed us the studio menu. -Mr. Straus, a delicate look of concern on his fine worn face, did not answer immediately. A significant silence lay between us. Then:
"I am perplexed," said Mr. Straus, with the level-eyed passivity of a child, waked from deep sleep: "I am perplexed to know just what to say."
He dropped his eyes to the menu; then raised them to the blue-and-white waitress:
"It is very confusing. Do you think I would like the stuffed pig's knuckle.'"
The Release Words
SHE thought Mr. Straus would like it very much indeed. She was gone an incredibly short time, but the interval did not furnish me with any key to the mystery of genius. A gentle coma had descended upon Oscar Straus. It was broken only by the arrival of the dish in question and my asparagus vinaigrette. The composer of "The Chocolate Soldier" studied the {Continued on page 86)
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