Shattering Illusions About Our Dear Stars is Hollywood's Favorite Indoor Sport.
Hollywood hasn't any Follies, nor a Woolworth Building. Ethel Barrymore wouldn't shed a tear if she never saw the City of Angels again. Third, and even fourth musical comedy companies try their pitiful best to please at the Mason Op'ry House. And they do say it takes a year for a style to travel from Fifth Avenue, east, to Seventh Street, west.
But—
And it is around that "but" that Hollywood carols gleefully. For, my dears, Hollywood boasts that it is THE film capital. Its secrets are as safe with us as with a broadcasting station.
Hollywood inhabitants are the only and original star-leggers—willing to exchange 'em for any illusions you may have.
Imagine saving all year for one look at that storied place, Hollywood! And then—
You are the envy of all Duluth when you announce your plans. You are actually going to see Gloria Swanson—for didn't Fan Fare show pictures of her strolling down Hollywood Boulevard, buying the evening pork chops, and trundling Gloria II? Perhaps Charley Chaplin will ask you for a match!
The carefully buttered publicity has been carefully digested in your town, however. You know, for instance, that some of the stars aren't a bit better looking than the local gals. And you have been warned that all that moves is not movies.
But—again that volume-speaking "but"—that isn't the fourth of it.
All Hollywood, and your friends in particular, are only too eager to play that tireless game "un-hokuming Hollywood" for you.
"Do you use rouge?" the interviewer asked Miss Ayres. "Why paint the lily?" responded Agnes.
