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By
TRIM AN B,
HANDY
I)., you follow me? At any rate, permit me to introduce Miss Hawley as the very newest star of the season the most novel of all screen novelties, the dernier eri in brand-new personalities.
As I cogitate and think of all the things I am going to ask Wanda, she appears. She wears a simple tan sweater with very full sleeves, a black-and-blue checked dress and very quiet, somber grey hose and shoes. 1 ler hair is caught lightly about her ears. She enters blithely, as if she were really glad to see me.
(And this, may 1 explain, brings joy to the heart of the tired professional interviewer— to us who are used to spectacular entrances and carefully arranged
stage settings, especially designed to produce on us the proper effect of dazzling
and all that.)
Wanda is different from most stars.
The fact that
K e a 1 a it has
signed her for
five years has
failed to dazzle
her. She's, oh,
so pleased and
all that, but at
When you talk to her you are impreiied with the idea that aba'a a ■olid individual . . . that •he weara conaiderably more under her hat than juat mere blonde hair
the same time, she says, she looks upon the venture with trepidation, lest she make a misstep.
When Miss H a w 1 e y ' s blondeness first enhanced a Fox play two years ago, everybody predicted that before long she'd have her name in electrics over a production. She predicted it herself, and when y o u a s k he r now, she admits that, ChristianScience 1 i k c , she "held the thought." (Continued on paqe 96)
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