Evening Star Newspaper, January 18, 1937, Page 27

THE EVENING STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C, MONDAY, JANUARY 18, 1837. TARZAN AND THE MAYAN GODDESS. Lily Pons Is Acclaimed In Splendid Program Here Soprano Shows Great Strides in Perfecting Her Art—Sings With Exquisite Purity of Tone. BY ALICE EVERSMAN. ° HE admirers of Lily Pons in this city were privileged, yesterday after- noon, to hear her beautiful voice just as nature intended it to sound. In the several years that Dorothy Hodgkin Dorsey has included a Pons recital in her series, Miss Pons has always pleased her listeners to a high degree, yet the technical side of her singing has not been above criticism. Yesterday, a new Pons stood revealed, poised, artistic and supreme mistress of her art from every angle. The x;fr\'ous~} unrest, the forced brilliancy, the un- | ber of Seville,” and the “Ombra Leg- even vocal color and the unsatisfac- | i Sp o™y eveeers “Dinornhg," tory program numbers were all absent |y, "0) g Gifferently and how beau- and in their place there was beauti- | ¢ ity icantrolisdlivocaliem, afbisticdin® || LTULLY, SUBE- Bul there was albo, for sh and songs worth listening to. the space of a year, Miss Pons has fearned to keep her vocal power within its natural limits and has grown im- measurably in the fine points that indicate a great artist. Two years ago Miss Pons was achiev- ing her brilliant effects by sheer force of energy. A year ago her voice place- ment was unstable and her work was Tn | oPENing numbers, Bach’s “Ecoutez les Sons Celestes,” from the “Birthday Cantata for Augustus, IIL,” and “Pas- torale,” from the “Birthday Cantata for the Duke of Sachsen-Weissenfels,” and “Alleluia,” from Handel's “Esther.” And, later, Rossini's “La Promessa” and “La Pastorella delle Alpi,” “Hue's “A des Oiseaux,” “Liszt’s “Oh, Quand Je Dors” and “Comment Disaient-ils,” “ O Legere Hirondelle,” An anguished, heart-broken sigh escaped the lips of Queen Zalya as she found her way blocked by the Medicine Priest and her monstrous subjects. She had expected somehow to save Tarzan, hoping that in return for his life he might grant her a measure of friéndship. She had even nourished a vague idea that ske might escape from the Dead City with this fascinating stranger. Until tonight she had been content to rule her evil domain with a cruel, imperious hand, ex= ulting in hér power; now she wanted to run away— with him! She turned her eyes up to Tarzan with an expres- sion of hopelessness. The ape man, however, was looking straight ahead. He was plainly disturbed— not because his own flight had been blocked, but because his friends had been caught in the net of the monsters. There was still a chance of escape for him. He might run back through the maze of corridors and trust to luck to find his way to the surface. But now he could not leave his friends. His code of honor dictated that he stay—to help them, or die with them! uneven. Yesterday she sang with finely balanced restraint, with exquisite pur- ity of tone and great finesse in interpre- tation. Such appreciable strides in ar- tistry, in so short a period of time, is not the successful accomplishment of | from Gounod’s “Mireille,” and two lovely songs by Frank La Forge, her splendid accompanist, “Come Unto These Yellow Sands” and “Bird Song.” Usually it is quite easy to select two or three numbers as the most out- DAN DUNN Secret Operative 48. By Norman Marsh THEN WHEN I'M SURE THEY'RE UNCONSCIOUS T'LL GO IN AND SET THE GIRL AND LEAVE THE @UEANTIME, IN THE SECRET ROOM ARE KAY. DAN AND WOLF - ~KAY WORKS FEVERISHLY OVER DAN # THERE -~ WITH THE BLANKETS HUNG ACROSS THE TUNNEL AND THIS FIRE any other singer who has become a part of this city’s musical season nnd; she is to be honored not only for her | great natural gifts but for the progress she has made in their perfection. | Miss Pons’ voice, from nature, is not | large, but it is unusual in its sweet- | ness and range, all of which one could | appreciate yesterday, perhaps for the first time, and certainly with per- sonal pleasure. The tones merged one | into the other throughout the entire range with no disturbing change of quality, the limpid mellowness took on no edge in the higher register and | the play between pianissimo and for- tissimo was accomplished without once overstepping the natural boundaries | of vocal strength. The passages of egllity were not sharp and steellike as | formerly, but Iyrically beautiful as the roulades of a bird, while legato | measures had rich substance ‘even in | the lowest tessitura. | Program Well Selected. As it is impossible to speak of Miss | Pons' singing yesterday without com- parison to her other appearances | here, s0 also it is with her choice of | program for yesterday's concert. Here- ‘ tofore, one was dazzled by brilliant technical numbers which masked, to a great degree, the faulty mechanism or | disillusioned by puerile songs that gave little artistic satisfaction. This was not the case vesterday. There were the favorite arias, of course, “Una Voce Poca Fa,” from Rossini's “Bar- | ~DAILY SHO standing on a program, but on going through the list sung by Miss Pons yesterday, some remembered loveliness makes it impossible to exclude any, even the hackneyed “Villanelle,” of Dell’Acqua, or Jacobsen’s arrangement of the well-known “Chanson de Marie Antoinette.” And that is a major accomplishment even if there were not so many other pleasing things about Miss Pons’ singing. But each of these, from the classics to the lightest offering. was a superb example of bel canto, of dignity in execution and of deep feeling. Joins Rank of Great Artists. Miss Pons has definitely stepped out of the role of vocal gymnast into the select ranks of great artists who, besides giving pleasure by the beauty of their voices, also satisfy the artistic requirements of perfect technique, feeling for style and unquestionable musicianship. Frank La Forge, play- ing the long program entirely from memory, was an ideal accompanist, while Dominic Iascone, flutist of the National Symphony, admirably blended his suave tones with the singer in several numbers. The auditorium was filled to capa- city with some 250 additional seats on the stage. The enthusiasm was unbounded and several encores, among them Pamina’s aria from “The Magic Flute,” were a necessary prolongation of the printed program. RT STOR PRINTS CHARMING By P. T. Waterman. THE girl in the shabby coat and ,bright makeup laughed. The three - men sitting across ~the tavern table from her laughed, too. She looked sbout the deserted back room where they were sitting before she contin- ued speaking. “Can you imagine Hawk Jeferson, the ace bull dick of the Detective Bureau, falling for that moth - eaten gag?” The others burst into fresh peals of uncontrol- led mirth. “I wasn't sure that he had spot- ted me when we made that close get-away the other night from that Carston job, but I wasn't taking any chances. I knew he didn’t have a thing on me other- | wise, because I haven't a record, not | even prints and a mug down at the | Detective Bureau. “So I ‘figured that it would be a wild chance that he would ever con- nect me up with a jewelry job, be- eause, so far, he doesn't know my racket or who I've mobbed up with. I'm taking no chances, though, be- cause it's just possible he may have seen me with one of you guys from the mob, and be suspicious.” One of the girl's companions leaned over and patted her shoulders. *“You're a wise moll,” he approved. “But see that you stay that way!| We can't afford to have a moll in| with us as a front who doesn’t know | her way around.” The girl grinned Ampudently. * ok %X ok “]DON'T worry,” she informed him. “Maggie Delano could make her way around before you were out of reform school.” | “But what happened when Jeffer- son spotted ‘you last night outside the Union Station where you were standing, and stopped?” asked one of the men. Maggie chuckled reminis- eently. “I could see that the big flatfoot was going to ask me some questions, and I didn't know the score. So I dummied up and put on the weep act, wondering whether it would work. | “He stopped right in front of me, | and then he asked me if there was enything wrong, or whether there was anything he could do to help| me. I had to think fast of some way to get rid of him. I saw that| even after he had taken a good gander at me he didn't tumble to ‘who I was. “So I told him a phony name, and said that I was just in from out of town to look for a job and that somebody had stolen my suitcase and purse while I was washing in the ladies’ room. He asked if I knew any one in town and I said I didn’t. * x K % ’SO WHAT does the big sap do but drag me into the station to the Travelers’ Aid, and tell me that he'd have them fix me up with a room somewhere, and maybe get nte a job in the morning. Imagine me work- ing.” They all laughed at the lu- dicrous thought. *I was beginning to get just a bit leary by that time, because I didn’'t know who might be at the place he 'was taking me, or who might | recognize me in the station and give “him the office. I screwed my face 1p like I still wanted to cry, just in case, while he sort of pushed me by the arm up the stairs and back by =the ticket office. I guess it’s & habit cops have got. w1 began to breathe easier after we "ot there, though, because there wasn't I3 “‘I .. Put on th Weep Act’* | was admonished. anybody around. We waited about 15 minutes and the place was still as deserted as a church on New Year eve, so he scratches his head and pretends he can think. I won- dered what would finally come out of that thick scull of his, and I didn't have long to wait. * ok x % "HE SAYS that he can't af- ford to wait be- cause he has to go to work, and I start to breathe easier. Then he comes out with the proposition that I had to sleep and eat somewhere, so why not go to his diggings while he was at work, and sleep there! “I couldn't see any way out of it without looking suspicious, especially after he shows me his badge and | tells me he’s O. K. So we wind up at his dump and he tells the house- keeper to feed me and fix up a flop for me for the night. Then he tips his hat real polite and tells me he'll be back about 8 in the morning after work and see about a job for me. Honest, I nearly died keeping from laughing in his face. But I thanked him and he scrammed.” “How about the housekeeper?” she was asked suspiciously. “Just another dumb bunny. Never recognized me and she was the only one in the house, so don't worry. She had me come into the kitchen and rustled up a feed. Chicken and a shot of real good whisky and every- thing swell. Say, these flatties must make a swell graft, being able to afford to live like that.” “Stick to the story, sister!” she “What next?” “Well, 1 packed away the grub and then this dame brings me to old Hawk Jefferson’s own bed room, no less. After puttering around, dusting things off, she beats it and I begin to think of an angle. Finally I reasoned that maybe I may as well take the opportunity to take a prowl, because maybe there's some valuables | lying around loose. * Xk Kk % “J WAIT until about 1 o'clock until I'm sure the old gal is asleep and then I work the place over from start to finish, except for the house- keeper’'s bed room. She had her door closed. And look what little Maggie promoted!” She fumbled in her handbag. “I started with the house- keeper’s purse I found on the table, but she only had a couple of bucks in it. And then I found this in a drawer in the dick's bed room.” She handed around for inspection 2 beautiful onyx jewel box, which upon opening disclosed several dia- mond rings, a jeweled lodge pin and sundry other small pieces of jewelry. “A slick job, Maggie!” she was complimented. “Wonder what Hawk will think when he finds out about this?” They laughed. At that moment Hawk was think- ing, not laughing. The squad he had sent to trail the girl when she exited should report soon and then he would have the link to the Carston job and proof. ‘The onyx jewel box would take per- fect prints to match the ones found on the jewel case taken in the raid on Mike, the fence. The desk phone rang and Hawk listened for a mo- ment. Then he didn’t laugh, but there was a wide smile on his face. (Copyrighs, 1037.) BURNING UNDER THE INCENSE, (T WILL NOT BE LONG BEFORE THE POISON GAS REACHES THEM == . U. S, Pat. OF; Copyyight, 1937, 2 “mf h.bmldn Syndieate BEN WEBSTER’S CAREER. ALL RI\GHT, LEM,LET'S HANE \T=YOU'VE FINIGHED GWEETENIN ‘ UP THE OLD MAN AND DOG TO THEIR FATES /¢ \T'G JEGT TRIG: THE YOUNG JUNIPER BUGH'S 6OT OLD LADY HIGGING TRAINED 60O GHE'LL GTRING OUT A CUSTOMER ON THE 'PHONE TILL HE GET6 THERE _ W/ DAN. DAN/! PLEASE. PLEASE SPEAK O'VA G\T IT, O9WALD ? THE CUGTOMER THINKS | \F (T 15 ? WE COME IN? OH DEAR, I'LL BE A WRECK TONIGHT FROM ALL THIS SCRUBBING. BUT HAVEN'T YOU Y] HEARD ? THE IVORY DEVELOPED A NEW SAFE ONE, CALLED OXYDOL. AND IT SOAXS CLOTHES 4705 SHADES WHITER! WAIT—VLL GET A PACKAGE. THOSE "NO-SCRUB” SOAPS ARE T0O HARSH! ) TRIED ONE ONCE, AND \T FADED THINGS TERRIBLY. 17" m, whar YOU THINK ITS ALL RIGHT IF1 ASK HER?PORA MRS. OLIPHANT | MET LAST MONTH ! SEE—HERE'S HOW SHE USED TO LOOK, BEFORE SHE HAD /), THESE BIG WASHINGS BEFORE WE GEF THROUGH WITH _ HER,EH? IN 15 MINUTES— WITHOUT SCRUBBING OR BOILING ? ABSOLUTELY! ) JUST WAIT AND P! DO LOVELY WHITE! SOAKING! \T5 THE JONES, DEAR. THEY WANT US TO COME B\ OVER AND JOIN THE PARTY. 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