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ARLENE FRANCIS . . . TOAST OF THE TAX COLLECTORS ache for her lawyers and a dream for the U, S. Government. Reportedly, What’s My Line shells out $1000 for her weekly wit. Then there are Ta¬ lent Patrol, filmed commercials (last year she got $10,000 for one De Soto job), fashion shows, advertising en¬ dorsements and Broadway and TV dramatic ventures. According to Martin Goodman, her manager of 14 years, “Arlene is a financial enterprise. Last year she earned upwards of a quarter of a million dollars, and that was before the Home show.” She also is endowed with a working husband, actor-pro¬ ducer-director Martin Gabel. Using the most remarkable logic for a financial enterprise, she says she’s an anti-feminist. The feminists fought for equal rights for women. “A girl’s job,” she qualified, “is to be a girl. Once she takes over a man’s position, she loses her femininity and her place in society. Then, what use is she?” Arlene also claims, with modesty: “I’m just an ordinary housewife. I keep house and I can scrub a kitchen and bathroom as well as anyone.” Her home, though, is comfortably staffed by servants who stay quietly in the background except to appear with refreshments or to empty ash¬ trays. “Didn’t I prepare my own din¬ ner last night?” she asked of her cook. Cook said, “Yes.” “I don’t understand why people think I should be different. On a Madison Avenue bus yesterday, a woman looked at me and gasped, ‘Why, it’s Arlene Francis. What are you doing here?’ “I ride buses, too,” Arlene an¬ nounced, proving the wonders of de¬ mocracy. Miss Francis was born in Boston, Mass., the daughter of an Armenian- American portrait photographer. She won’t say when. (“I’ve fibbed about my age for so long even my passport doesn’t tell the truth,” she admits wryly.) Her parents, opposed to the theater, consented to Arlene’s playing bit parts on radio. Success came to her on “Blind Date,” when she threw away the script and started talking off the top of her head. “Sometimes my head is quite empty,” (another Arlene-ism), “but it started me ad- libbing.” As you know, one thing leads to another. “Blind Date” went to TV; Arlene went with it. She appeared in the Broadway version of “The Doughgirls” and suddenly wound up on Home, talking about vichyssoise. “That’s what I like about this show. I can tell women not to be afraid of vichyssoise because it’s plain old po¬ tato soup .”—Katherine Pedell 4 Arlene removes blindfold on Blind Date show, her first TV triumph.