Picture-Play Magazine (Sep 1928 - Feb 1929)

44 Photo by Hesser Sue Carol's romance with Nick Stuart flourishes in spite of their temporary separation. Rags Are Royal Raiment Here. ,0 you remember, a few years ago, a little, gaunt, wistful face that periodically peered out of pictures, whenever the story called for the kind of girl that men forget? Sometimes you would see her passing around a tambourine at an obscure Salvation Army meeting. Again, you would find her languishing in the last stages of consumption, or else she would be somebody's younger sister, whom you might pat on the back, and overlook thereafter. Sometimes she hobbled about on crutches, unruffled by her hardships and the city's din ; or you would discover her once more earnestly advocating the straight and narrow path to some hardened offender, touched for a moment by her fragile appeal. She inevitably aroused that "bigbrother" feeling in the hearts of the masculine sex, but it was the other girl who always captured the male prize, while the noble little soul, serene and content, remained "the little sister of the world." Her appeal to the gentler emotions has long since passed away. The hollows in her thin cheeks have disap an Florence Vidor parted with Jascha Heifetz, her new husband, whose professional engagements called him to Europe. Impressions, news, and gossip of the stars who visit New York for work or pleasure. peared. Bright spots of carmine now liven the high cheek bones, once colored only by a hectic flush. Rags and ginghams no longer are her raiment. Spangles, satins, velvets, crystals, and the latest gewgaws from Paris now hang gracefully from her willowy form, which is to be seen passing through the maze of modern frivolity, without so much as a backward glance at that wistful, shadowy figure of some years ago. She is not as interesting, not as distinctive, as she used to be. In fact, there is nothing to distinguish her from myriads of other up-to-date girls, who feel that life is an incomplete and sorry affair without the adjuncts of diamond bowknots and mink coats. She is Pauline Starke now, just as she was Pauline Starke then, but something of that ineffable quality of childlike charm and simplicity were doffed with her cotton stockings. Bessie Love, with the passing of the years, has treasured that quaint, elfin candor, which was her greatest charm, but Pauline Starke was determined to become the kind of girl that men remember. This ugly duckling pined to become a swan, and succeeded. "You might say I have grown up," she volunteers, by way of explanation. "Times have changed, and I've changed, too. The kind of girl I used to be no longer has any vogue, even in pictures. Her type isn't wanted. And then I adore wearing beautiful clothes. Who wants to wear calico all the time? I wouldn't be my old self for anything." Better she must feel to play the role of wife at home, than to resurrect the shabby, spirituelle, glory of yesteryear. "I am miserable, though, when I am not working. I don't know what to do with myself staying at home. I feel I am just wasting my time." With all her brilliants and gay plumage, we feel that if Miss Starke would wrap her furs in tar paper, put her jewels in the vault, and go to Mary Pick ford and borrow the habiliments of little Annie Rooney, she would be heeding the call of the megaphone in no time. For, despite her permanent wave, her highly polished finger tips, and her chic wardrobe, Pauline Starke is just little Annie Rooney for all that. Persevering Marion. Marion Davies is an example of perseverance. Of course she has beauty, charm, and grace. But who could have imagined, a few years ago, that she was destined to become a comedienne of the first rank ? Miss Davies. in her first screen attempts, used to be pointed out as the