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By CAROLINE SOMERS HOYT
THIS is the amazing story of a girl who could have jumped overnight from an obscure cafe where she sang for her dinners into the lap of blue blooded society and, instead, decided in favor of a career that held only the slightest glimmer of promise.
Three times Grace Moore was asked to accept in marriage rich, handsome men whose position commanded servants, diamonds, yachts — and each time she said no to pin her hopes on her young, untrained voice.
But when, not long ago, royal equerries left a crested invitation to tea with Queen Mary of England, this same girl who had refused wealth and luxury through a husband's name stood in the hallway of social fame, accepted and applauded by the same people who would have scorned her short years ago. . These untold chapters which have hidden the tremendous courage and belief in herself that helped Grace Moore prefer musical comedy to overwhelmingly rich young bachelors, began to unfold in New York's garish Greenwich Village.
Grace had come to New York to seek her fortune with nothing more substantial than a $25 a month allowance, all her army officer father could afford to send. Together with another equally poor and aspiring girl, she was living in a tiny one-room walk-up apartment. To make sure that she would eat every night, Grace sang in the Black Cat restaurant, a typical Village meeting place.
That is how it happened that one night Thomas Markoe Robertson heard Grace Moore, sat at a table in the dimly lit Black Cat and drank in the slim figure outlined on the floor by the flickering lights, took in the enchanting beauty of her face. Grace never dreamed while singing to her audience that listening, engrossed, was one of Park Avenue's most sought after men.
She didn't know it until Robertson spoke a brief
For Grace Moore's program, sponsored by the Vick Chemical Company, see page 56 — 9 o'clock column.
word to the proprietor and an introduction was arranged. Young, eager, hopeful, she accepted his friendship with a thrill she couldn't quite hide. From that night on, Robertson forsook his uptown clubs and his socialite kinsmen to drive down to the narrow side street off lower Seventh Avenue which boasted the Black Cat.
Grace, going home after work at night to crawl into the hard, narrow bed in the cramped apartment, dreamed over the things Robertson had promised her. He had spoken of Europe, of a honeymoon trip around the world, of his country estate on Long Island. (Continued on page 74)
When Queen Mary of England invited Grace to "tea for two," society gasped. George Biddle, wealthy socialite, below, urged an elopement, but Grace preferred a career. Prince San Faustino, lower left, offered Grace one of the oldest Italian titles. Lower right, Thomas Markoe Robertson, whose wealth and position Grace also refused.
Acme photos