It takes some pepper pot to create any notice in a studio where Nazimova has worked.
Isn’t it rather sad, to say the least, to have fame affect some of our stars, as it does? Our attention has been directed to Charles Ray—rather more strongly to Mrs. Charles Ray. Charlie’s rise has affected her—so much ’tis said, that there is a dearth of chauffeurs at the Ray villa. This in spite of the fact that a half score or more have entered employ—and rather quickly tired of it. One of ’em tells us his reasons, and we admit they would peeve a brass Buddha.
And, by the way, was it Mrs. Ray whose attitude toward a grocer’s delivery boy who carelessly let his Ford drop a bit of oil on a macadamized driveway, caused so much mirth around the colony lately?
An event long looked for in the Somborn household (Gloria Swanson of yore) has occurred, and a bouncing girl is announced. Months ago we were told that Gloria’s contract with DeMille, at a comparatively small salary, could be broken only by such an event. Mr. Somborn, being a picture magnate, is said to naturally have wanted to star his wife. Now the way may be open. We shall see.
Mutterings around a certain railroad ticket office in New York the other day, boded ill for the husband of the deceased Olive Thomas, had he dropped his dignity and approached in person. His valet, through association or education, we know not which, has picked up a domineering attitude, and the tantrums he went through over the phone at various times with every clerk in the office, got under the skin. “Don’t you know who my master is,” chirped the valet. And just as chipperly the railroad clerk said, “I do, and I don’t give a damn.”
Party of four, two staterooms on the Century huh? We are slightly curious, just slightly.