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Depression Lessons #8

To the extent that motion pictures have always glutted us with visions of loveliness, Bebe Daniels was kind of ordinary. I’m not referring of course to her early years, when Daniels ranked with Gloria Swanson and Pola Negri as exalted commodities at Paramount. That was an altogether different incarnation, her silent screen persona based in large measure on “exotic” beauty—milky skin handed down from a Scottish father and a head of raven hair from a Spanish mother.

Daniels had a little age on her when I caught my first happy glimpse.

Well, "age"—a mere 29 in 1930's Alias French Gertie, by which time Hollywood’s corner on the beauty market had already begun mercilessly snapping at her heels. Those immense dark eyes of hers, a lively part of the overall equipment, could still flash. Only now they were being called upon to communicate “Every time I get a

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