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Docile, Shrewd, Smart. Ten years in the U. S. have put Lily Pons and the English language on a footing of jovial acquaintance rather than intimacy. Her soprano chatter is the sort which newspaper interviewers, transcribing every zis and zat with loving care, particularly admire. Of England's late King George V she said: "Ze Keeng—he ees tres gentil—zo zhentle, zo keeng." Of a shoe which was too small for even her No. 2 foot: ;'Eet ees no. I cannot enter." Pert and naive-looking with her big brown eyes, her childish face framed by a reddish pageboy bob, Lily Pons is to all appearances docile, even-tempered: she has all the French virtues, is genuinely kindly and cute comme un bou-ton—mais, zut alors, elle est shrewd, smart and has a will of iron. She has always worked hard, spends months preparing every role she sings at the Met,* is punctual at rehearsals.
In her brief (1935 to 1937) movie career, in which she was not a great success, she sang arias 50 times running without a murmur of complaint. Lily Pons hates champagne, drinks little wine, likes Coca-Cola, touches hard liquor and cigarets not at all. She still feels faintly seasick all day before a concert or opera performance.
Soprano Pons got $445 a week when she started at the Met. Now she earns $1,000 a night, which only Soprano Kirsten Flagstad and Tenor Lauritz Melchior equal. Concerts pay Lily Pons $4,000 apiece. This is success, and Soprano Pons enjoys the symbols of it: dizzy hats, spectacular gowns, never the same twice in succession. Soprano Pons likes chunky aquamarines, emeralds, diamonds. Once in San Francisco, feeling short of jewels, she borrowed $150,000 worth.
Such tastes make for publicity, and the U. S. press has faithfully reported Lily Pons's comings & goings, her decorations and honors. She is a Chevalier of the French Legion of Honor, holds Belgium's Order of the Crown, the Gold Medal of the City Paris, a certificate as honorary consul of Cannes, an honorary inspectorship in the Connecticut Department of Motor Vehicles. Three flowers, a South American race horse, a restaurant, a Boston & Maine locomotive and a New Jersey Central streamlined train have been named for her. Los Angeles and Norwalk, Conn. have celebrated Lily Pons days.
Newspapers reported that she knits for the poor, that she was kissed by an ape at Dr. Voronoff's monkey farm near Menton, France, that young female operagoers at the Met banded themselves into "Lily Pons Fans," in imitation of the "Gerry-flappers" of Soprano Farrar 20 years ago. A Maryland town, whose chief industry is water lilies and goldfish, eight years ago publicized itself as well as the diva by taking the name Lilypons. The full flowering of this pun occurred when Lily Pons sang to the lily ponds, while politicos, from Maryland's Governor on down, listened in rapture. Last week at the Star-Spangled Ball, a big Manhattan benefit for the William Allen White Committee, Lily Pons it was who sang the Star-Spangled Banner.