Through quaint and Alpine Salzburg, in Austria, prowled last week a Manhattanite with a tiny cinema camera. While local mountaineers gawked he accosted a honey-haired Diana, persuaded her to pose before a crazily swung gate, "shot" Maria Jeritza.
Prowling on, the camera grinder paused before the tiny Café Masalli, since 1705, a snug topers' haven. Within, a paunchy Hungarian was munching a sandwich, playing with a pretzel, drinking beer. He too consented to emerge and pose. He was Francis Molnar, most famed of Hungarian dramatists, illustrious in Manhattan as the author of...
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