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What Makes You
Sof
unny
#Mr.A
uer
Here's what happened when Mischa, who usually laughs off questions about himself, couldn't duck some very personal queries
By Margaret Mary Joslyn
lifjMfrr
and mad, bargainroar of traffic, our
Auer laughed at his own acting for the first time when he saw "My Man Godfrey." Being funny when he grins, as at right, then in a closeup with Danielle Darrieux in "The Rage of Paris" — and finally, wideeyed wonder as at lower right.
AS IS the inescapable L— \ fate of office girls, / \ Jane and I were doing our shopping in the Saturday afternoon whirlpool of the Loop, buffeted by determined females with hats askew, hunting eyes. Above the
trained ears discerned the harsh croaks of women with parched throats who had staggered from drug-store to drug-store in vain search of a stool and a coke.
Heads down, we rammed our way through the mob, until our eyes were caught by as soothing a sight as one could hope to see. It was a large poster of Mischa Auer in front of the Palace theatre. Above his high hat appeared the legend, "Today, In Person."
Blessed Mischa Auer, who no matter how dry and cracked the creek of your spirits, can cause it to overflow with laughter like the Ohio river in floodtime ! Mischa, the Thief, who steals every picture in which he appears !
"I think," I said to Jane, "that I will drop around back-stage and interview Mischa Auer."
"Why, hello, Louella Parsons," she said. "Fancy meeting you in on old lapin coat ! Rehearsing for a character role, I presume?"
"Want to come with me ?" I asked, shaking her shower of sarcasm off my back, like a dog.
"You're not really going to interview him ?" she asked. "Do you have an appointment?"
"No, but I phoned back-stage this morning. The man in the office said Mischa is a good guy ; he'd probably talk to me if I caught him before his number. Come with me. If he won't talk — at least we'll see him."
Jane looked down wistfully at her rubbers. "Mmm, I'd love to see him. But I only have a half hour, and Fields, has a sale on pique blouses — a dollar ninety-eight. And I want to return the cologne I bought last week.
Besides the sidewalks are bone dry and I am wearing rubbers. How can a girl embark on high adventure wearing rubbers? I'd quail before those great liquid orbs of Mischa's. What would he think? 'There's a clod,' he'd say to himself."
"OK," I said. "Get your pique blouse. / am going to see Mischa Auer."
She hesitated uncertainly, as though to follow me, then glanced once more at her rubbers, and shook her head. "Report every detail. Don't miss a twitch of his eyebrow," she said, and waved goodby.
The doorman admitted me without question and waved me into a reception room overflowing with school children. Plump little girls in bowler hats and clean bright hair curling Deanna Durbin style, sat on the davenport. Their hands clenched autograph (Please turn to page 86)
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