While hotspots from coast-to-coast observed moments of silence in her memory, while Broadway pitchmen hawked little copper medals stamped with her image and a Hollywood boy was gnawed by a 15½-in. rat which crept up his pants during a memorial revival of one of her pictures, the late Jean Harlow went to her last rest last week in a manner which has come to be regarded by the film colony as quiet, conventional good taste. With a reliable force of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer company detectives on guard to see that there was no repetition of the...
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