That fabulous Spanish haven of American remittance folk, Majorca is almost completely deserted. Where once the foreigner could live in splendor for $50 a month, an ordinary luncheon for four people now consumes a $20.00 bill. The jailing of Americans on slim pretenses added stimulus to the exodus. Almost the only American left is the former wife of Rudolph Valentino, Natacha Rambova married to a local grandee. Miss Rambova who has taken on much weight clings to the tight turban she so long exploited.
Monthly Archives: Dec 2016
In 1923, when studio contract troubles drove Rudy and Natacha to embark on the Mineralava Dance Tour a reviewer interviewed them during their Detroit appearance. “Except for the memory of a handsome cabochon sapphire ring Valentino wore in a little-ring finger, no impression whatsoever remains least of all the impact of a strong personality.
A flock of detectives took up the trail today of Miss de Wolfe the missing San Francisco heiress While a frantic mother accused dancer Theodore Kosloff, of using hypnotism on his pupil. Just at the end of Kosloff’s act at a local theater this afternoon a huge bouquet of American Beauty roses was tossed across the footlights by an attendant. It was tied with a big black bow of material that looked like undertakers crepe. Kosloff picked up the bouquet and pricked his fingers on the thorns. Blood sprinkled on the attached card on which was inscribed in her own handwriting “Winifred de Wolfe”. Investigation as to the source of the bouquet proved futile. The girl’s relatives however are certain now that she is alive. Kosloff declared this was the message he had vaguely expected and consented to issue his long-promised statement. “I hope” he said, “that when Miss de Wolfe reads the statements about Kosloff made to the newspaper by her mother she will immediately if she is alive, send a denial to the newspapers. That’s why for the time I have refrained from speaking on the subject. I consider Winifred de Wolfe what in my language would be called a saint, and only her great love for art, which is almost fanatical, would compel, her to leave her mother, her home, relatives and friends”. Winifred de Wolfe, has been missing since 26 April. The Russian Ambassador, Senator James O’Gorman, and Secret Service men have at various times joined in the search for her. Miss de Wolfe is the niece of famous NY Interior Designer Elsie De Wolfe.
Rudolph Valentino’s publicity expert Mr. Joseph Jackson is in a well-bred cultured condition of excitement. It seems that, on the advice of some 75 newspaper critics, he has awarded the world’s acting championship and the Valentino Medal as follows: John Barrymore in Beau Brummel; Norma Talmadge in Secrets; Lon Chaney in He Who Gets Slapped; Douglas Fairbanks The Thief of Bagdad; Milton Sills in The Sea Hawk. MY emotional reactions are two-fold. In the first place, I am unable to discover just why the talented Mr. Valentino should take it unto himself to call upon the actors of the world to pass in front of him and hand one the championship. Only kings are entitled to hand out medals and decorations. In the next place, I grieve to discover that all 75 critics were out of step except me. John Barrymore did not give the best performance of last year. Lillian Gish did in The White Sister. Beau Brummel was a fine piece of work; but it did not compare in any way with Miss Gish’s performance. To me Barrymore’s work is always marred by one fact. You are always conscious of his technique in every scene and in every foot. Before you can judge a contest like this, it is necessary to stipulate what you mean by fine acting? Is it the most display of personality; the most complete merging of personality into artistry? If to be a great actor is to completely sink one’s own personality and to take on another personality completely and logically and consistently then I think the honors should to go to a man who did not get a vote in the contest. Jean Hersholt is the best actor on the screen judged by that standard. I am not sure that he isn’t by any standard.
Rudolph Valentino died of humiliation, Lillian Gish said decisively. “He had been educated to be a landscape architect, you know, and he died because he was so humiliated at what he’d become. Miss Gish perhaps the grandest lady of the motion picture industry, a celebrated veteran who began her screen career in 1912 at Biograph, was wrestling in appropriate surroundings, an elegant room in an elegant Los Angeles mansion where a movie for television was on location. ” Mr. Valentino was such a gentleman” said Miss Gish and he cooked marvelous spaghetti. “My sister Dorothy discovered him. She saw him dancing and wanted to use him in her next film ‘Scarlet Days’ but Mr. Griffith said he would never do, because he was too foreign looking. However, Dorothy was making some comedies at Paramount, and she used Mr. Valentino in one of those. “If Mr. Valentino had lived, I think he would have become a major star in talking pictures because his voice had a marvelous timbre”..