On the other hand, Theda Bara, to counter-balance the exodus, is going back to the screen again.
Personally I quiver with excitement waiting to find out if T’eda is going to be a vamp on the screen again. She’s a queer girl—T’eda.
It used to be said of Oliver Goldsmith that he wrote like an angel and talked like a fool. Just the other way with T’eda.
Personally she is one of the most charming women I ever met. She has brains, wit, philosophy, humor and concentration. She is a brilliant conversationalist. I once heard her talk with a dramatist, renowned for his brilliant conversation, and the silver-tongued genius had nothing on her. She simply sizzled and coruscated with brilliancy.
But when she stops talking and turns to her professional life, the brains ooze out somewhere. The only thing worse than Theda’s pictures was Theda’s play, put on last season. At that, she has real ability as an actress—if she would take up sane subjects.
Theda was married the other day to one Charles Braban, a director.
A few days after the wedding, she was in court testifying as a witness. They asked her for her name. She said it was Theda Bara.
The lawyer was one of these bull-dozing gents. “I want to know your real name,” he said with cheap sarcasm.
The courts recently gave the lady the right to change her legal name from Theodosia Goodman, with which she was born, to her stage name Theda Bara; so she replied with dignity, “My real name is Theda Bara.” And annihilated the lawyer with a look. The examination had proceeded when she suddenly shrieked, “Oh, no. Excuse me. I forgot. I am Mrs. Charles Braban.”
The deeply regretted death of Caruso will be followed by a musical revolution.