The New Movie Magazine (Jan-Sep 1935)

LIGHT, of hers, drew up her diaphragm behind the old-fashioned bouquet, breathed deeply and out came such lovely tones that there was a gasp of combined surprise and pleasure. A little later on, the only person in the theater who could have been astonished was Grace when she was cheered to a standstill. She refused to stand still, so we won't linger in the charming Music Box Theatre. Grace didn't and we'll follow her through several years of hard work. Languages, operatic scores, strict training. Struggling valiantly, chin up, eyes front and never wavering until they closed in ecstasy when she found herself at last singing the role of Mimi in Puccini's opera, "La Boheme." As Mimi she made her triumphal debut in the Paris Opera. As Mimi she captured the Metropolitan Opera House plaudits in Xew York. As Mimi she made her debut at Covent Garden in London this season, and as Mimi you will see her in her next picture. All of which would lead us to believe that Grace owes a lot to Mr. Puccini's gal, Mimi. She admits it gladly, but her deepest gratitude goes to Irving Berlin. If he hadn't stuck by her when she was voiceless at that dress rehearsal, she might have gone back down South and we would never have heard of Grace Moore or Jellico. So far we've clung to the Then part of this article rather stubbornly, getting a kick out of re-living the thrills of it, but, now, what about Now? I KNEW I was taking advantage of our friendship when I horned in on her last week, but what's a friendship good for if you can't do that? She only had three days in New York before sailing. I was sandwiched in between some relatives and an income tax expert. Grace had the former parked in one bedroom, the latter in another, but I rated the drawing-room for over half an hour, and I'm bragging about it. She swept in with an apology for keeping me waiting. When Grace sweeps, she cleans up. When she apologizes, you are dumb. At least I was. How any one could look so fresh, so well groomed, so — so — Oh, what's the use, I can't do without it — so swell, after a late night, an entire morning spent talking business, answering phones, greeting the Italian Consul (because she is going to meet II Duce when she gets to Italy) and being inter viewed about the medal she was to receive that night! I repeat I was dumb, but not blind. She had on about the loveliest bit of feminine intrigue I've ever seen. Flame color, if you please, in the forenoon. It swirled and clung to her figure, which is just what the diet ordered. "I'm so glad to see you, darling. You look so well and happy." She squeezed my hands hard. I'm past saying "You took the words right out of my mouth," so I wittily coined a phrase and said, "Gee! So do you!" "Now tell me all about yourself." She took my bag and gloves. "How do you like Radio? I love it. Do you miss California? I've become quite a native, but I'm glad to get away now. How is your nice husband? Valentin's fine. He'll be sorry to miss you. He's out doing a lot of things that have to be done, you know, before sailing! Oh, Elsie, he is such a marvelous person, I simply couldn't do anything without him." She sat back opposite me at her end of the divan, flashing that starbright look at me, and waited for me to say something about my husband. She got what she expected. You see, Grace took quite a long time before marrying. Nothing to compare with my long distance record and not for the same reason. I had my Mother. She had her career. But what we finally found was apparently what we were both waiting for. We had more notes to compare than any two bankers. My views and opinions on matrimony BRIGHT are not important, though that rarely stops me from giving them, but in this case hers are so illuminating, so regular, that I shall pass them on, though I didn't have time to ask her permission. I hadn't seen Grace since her epoch-making triumph in the films. I should have known another sort of success would not change her, but the worldwide hysteria that goes with film success often does odd things to the most experienced and alreadyacclaimed stage stars. Don't get the impression from the flashing welcome that Grace is the flustery or gushing type. On the contrary. She is about the most down-to-earth, clear-thinking and nontemperamental prima donna that ever rode the high C's. I believe she really was just as glad to see me as I was to see her, hence the barrage of questions as a greeting. She listened and smiled approvingly as I raved on about my own marriage and finally ended the oration by saying, "I'm so glad I waited, didn't go popping off as a kid with some one I couldn't possibly have loved now. Aren't you glad you haven't any divorces behind you?" "Glad!" She threw back her head and closed her eyes for a few seconds. "Glad and grateful for my good fortune. You know, Elsie, during those years of hard work I didn't marry because I had very set ideas about marriage. I brought them with me ^Please turn to page 44) The motion picture which started Grace Moore on her way. She had made other pictures before "One Night of Love," but it was "One Night of Love," with Tullio Carminati, that captivated audiences. Left: The Grace Moore that Elsie Janis met — a smartly turned out young woman with one hand tucked jauntily in a pocket and a roguish twinkle in her eyes. And above: Grace in the sunny patio of her Hollywood home, with the husband whose love means so much to her, Valentin Perara. And if you want to find out just why they're so close, you'll have to read Elsie's story and let her tell you. The New Movie Magazine, September, 1935 15