Picture-Play Magazine (Mar-Aug 1926)

92 A Lady of High Degree k eyes glow softly behind silky, sweeping lashes. Her month is sharply, delicately curved over dazzling teeth. She has the lissome, swaying figure of the dancer, and the carriage of the aristocrat. Her hands are small and slender, with the honeless appearance of hands whose ancestors have done nothing for generations hut stitch fine linens and lightly touch the harp. She is beautiful, with a story-book perfection. 1 had luncheon with her not long ago. She had just arisen from a sick bed, where she had entertained a terrific cold. Now you know how mortal maids look in the throes of a cold. Not, you must admit, their nest. But this Dolores looked — well, just like the foregoing orgy of adjectives. Never has woman worn so gracefully a cold in the head. But she wailed. "Oh. I feel so bad. I think, my eye all disappear' an' I am just wan beeg nose." She sadly ew the nose, which belied her by being small and straight. With the arrival of the lobster cocktail. I asked for information concerning Dolores — infant, child and girl. She was born in Durango, the same town in the north of Mexico that has been made famous by Ramon Novarro. Dolores has never met him, but at the time of her birth, her mother and his were intimate friends. She is of pure Spanish blood, although her parents are Mexican-born. "'I don't know w'y in the news-peppers thev will say I am Aztec descent. I am only of Spanish blawd — all the way back. They say also Novarro is Aztec — but he is, too, Spanish blawd." When she was five, her' parents moved to Mexico City, where her father is a bank president, with extensive business interests. She was an only child, and anything she wanted was hers. As is the way in old countries, she was as familiar with the arts as with her schoolbooks. In particular, she showed a love for dancing, and on her frequent journeys abroad with her parents, studied under the best masters in Europe. Her parents, S'panish aristocrats of ancient lineage, welcomed at their home, and visited abroad, the most famous of artists and nobility — brilliant, cultured people. Dolores the child learned, as unconsciously as she had learned to dance, the talent of poise and serenity. The best of music and drama and art that Europe had to offer, came to Mexico City. On her travels, she learned the beauties and histories of old countries from their own cities.' One can picture her growing up in the gracious luxury surrounding her, smolderingly lovely, the delicate little olive face smiling shyly between the folds of gleaming black hair on either side of it. "My hair was once long, then. Ontil here" — indicating her hip — "but weeth a hat on my head look so beeg, they were fonny. So now I cut it off, ontil here" — touching her shoulder. At sixteen, when she was still in a convent in Mexico, she met Sehor del Rio. He was some years older than she, and the first man, outside her father, she had known. During her holidays, he visited her parents, and paid court to the youthful Dolores. She laughed adorably and leaned across the table, her black eyes shining. "Oh, it was so r-r-romantique. He fall in lawve with me, an' I fall in lawve with heem. For five mawnths we are engage'. And then we get mar-r-ry! "I wish you could meet my hos-ban' some day. He is wan-der-fool." Her voice softened almost reverently, and the graceful shoulders and fluttering hands were still. "SO clever, so culture', so kind. He is wan-derfool !" To the home of this "wan-der-fool" gentleman Dolores went, as a sixteen-year-old bride. With her new dignity as mistress of the great house, the long black hair was put up for the first time. From the grave cloisters of a convent, she stepped suddenly into the brilliant whirl of a cosmopolitan city. Her dancing had developed into an art — to have seen the Senora del Rio dance was a memory to be cherished by connoisseurs. Once, when she was visiting in Spain, Queen Victoria asked her to dance for the wounded veterans in the huge military hospital that the queen herself maintains. The royal family and all the court were present. "That was my beeg — my beeg minute! I was so excite', so happy. The queen is such a charming woman — oh, you can't know how charming !" The slim hands gesticulated, the shoulders rose eloquently. "She has been wan-der-fool to me. I lawve her." In Mexico City, at half a dozen great charity benefits, Dolores danced publicly. Thrilling to it — the lights, the beauty, the applause — all the gay artifices of the theater. Then, early last summer, Bert Lytell and Claire Windsor went to Mexico City to be married. With them went Edwin Carewe and Mary Aiken, now Mrs. Carewe. During their stay, they met a friend of the Del Rio family, and were entertained at his house. Because Dolores was an inveterate picture fan, the friend invited her to meet the celebrities from Hollywood. "I was so thr-r-eel', I nearly die. I could not believe that / was meeting Bert Lytell an' Claire Wins-sor !" Graciously, she asked the American visitors to have tea with her before they went. They came to her lovely home — for tea. But they talked and laughed and sang and danced with this enchanting hostess, and it was twelve o'clock when they left. They were all captivated, and told her she should be in pictures. Mr. Carewe, in particular, begged her to consider coming to Hollywood and taking up a career. Dolores laughed, as at a huge joke, but just the same, the idea was planted. Back in Hollywood, Mr. Carewe wrote entreatingly, promising his support if she would only give the movies a trial. Dolores was raised to the apex of excitement and longing. For three months, she pleaded with an obdurate family, who thought she had gone unexpectedly mad. Her husband refused to countenance a descent into the den of iniquity that was Hollywood. Her friends scoffed. But fate could never be too long unkind to such a bewitching creature, so Sehor del Rio finally consented to pay a brief visit by himself to Hollywood and see what it looked like. "He theenk he find these bad people, these wil' women. An' instead, he meet them in their homes, an' watch them wor-r-rk, an' fin' them all so charming, charming." So he returned to Mexico for Dolores, and brought her to Hollywood. She arrived on a Sunday. On Wednesday, she began work in "Joanna," directed by Mr. Carewe. After "Joanna," came the second lead in "High Steppers," also directed by Mr. Carewe. Then followed "The Whole Town's Talking" for Universal. Her current picture, in which she is cofeatured with Lloyd Hughes, is Edwin Carewe's "Pals First." And now, one of the biggest acting plums of the season has fallen to her share — the role of Charmainc in "What Price Glory." Hollywood has already taken Senora del Rio to its heart. She is invited everywhere, feted, admired. The gifts of the world have fallen into her lap. She might so excusably be a little spoiled, a little sated. But she is only surpassingly, luminously happy — the most completely happy person I have ever seen. Dolores — not for tears. But for joy — blessed by the gods and endowed by the fairies — Dolores.