Word: primae
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Like a Broadway musical show, the scenes were swift and elaborate. The first was an Alpine rock that looked on a glinting glacier. The second was a prima donna's apartment in a modern Swiss hotel. Then came a corridor of a Parisian hotel, intermission, the Swiss hotel again, the glacier, the balcony of still another hotel set for dining and dancing to a radio's loudspeaker, a street in the middle of the town, a railroad terminal with real trains, the terminal exit with a real automobile, the terminal's tracks again-and then the station...
Jonny was the hero, a blackface, jazz-band comedian. He wanted the violin which belonged to Danielle, a famed virtuoso, wanted it more than any of the women who wanted him, and he stole it. Anita, meanwhile, a fattish prima donna, went from Max, the queasy composer who took his inspiration glacier-gazing, to Daniello, back to Max again. She it was, unwittingly, who escaped with the stolen violin concealed in her banjo case. But Jonny followed her to Switzerland for it, jumped in her window one morning, recovered it and had it for his jazz until Daniello recognized...
Singers and actors usually tell silly stories about themselves. They have certain legends that must be preserved for their public and truth so much more fascinating than fiction in most of their cases is let to drop unnoticed by the wayside. So it is that most autobiographies of prima donnas make sorry reading, that the material they give their biographers simmers down usually to flimsy substance. But last week there was published a biography that proved the exception. Mary Lawton* wrote it, called it Schumann-Heink, the Last of the Titans...
...Great prima donnas usually do their singing in great cities, where great crowds besiege the box office for the privilege of hearing great music. Ganna Walska, different, opened a concert tour last week in the Central High School Auditorium at Binghamton, N. Y. This caused Critic Martha Wheatley in the Binghamton Press (circulation 34,800) to write as follows...
...even more sunny than ever he-came Wall Street to Wyckoff. A sympathetic understanding blossomed quickly between the onetime phonograph promoter and the would-be prima donna. It might have been music. At any rate it grew and grew, until the then Mrs. Wyckoff thought best to inquire...