An interview with a celebrity of the magnitude of Rudy Vallee who is now appearing at the Metropolitan theatre is a matter of considerable difficulty. But in spite of a delegation of over six hundred home folks from Maine, stage door crowds, and Mr. Vallee's dislike of newspaper publicity an entrance was made into his busy and crowded dressing room. Unlike most stars of importance. Mr. Vallee wore no make up, his manner was simple and direct and he still wore on his yest a fraternity pin, reminiscent of his college days at Maine and Yale. In one corner of the room was a large basket of flowers from the Kiwanis Club of his home town which he later acknowledged with his characteristic unassuming naivete during his Act. Ris whole attitude was distinctly not theatrical.

Mr. Vallee began the interview with come remarks concerning his days at Yale when he and Peter Arno were to other there in the same class. But the rend of the conversation soon turned to his relations with his large public about which he talked with extreme frankness. He refused to discuss what he thought to be the secret of his popularity on the grounds that he felt that as an artist he should not discuss that side of his personality. He added that he spoke very openly on that subject in his "Vagabond Dreams Come True", a work from his own pen. He went on to say how ever that he found the effusive acclamation of his audiences was by no means so distasteful and tiring as one might expect.

"The radio," he said, "is my true medium of expression. If is may breath and my life. Here, in a thestre I may reach three thousand people a day, but my radio audiences are up in the millions I give them simply music of a kind that many people like. My popularity has not diminished the fame of Whiteman and the others, for I have only brought out another element in a direct appeal to the heart."

When asked about the movies. Mr. Vallee said, "My own movie is an ex ample of how much better the radio is for me to get my particular methods to the public as opposed to the theatre. The picture spoils the illusion and besides you never know how it is going to turn out. As long as I stick to the air I can keep up my following for twenty years or more, but a few bad movies would have a devastating effect, so why gamble? My movie was a simple story with hardly any plot, but it was advertised in such a way that everyone expected something stupendous. I acted in it just as I do in life, and as I am inclined to be not exactly sad, but rather serious, people thought that I could not be jolly. Of course I can smile, and that is one reason why I am taking this tour, although it is really a vacation. Incidentally, in Spain and Ireland the picture was particularly popular as they like my quiet, heart-to-heart way better than the more raucous stuff.

"The most unfortunate thing, of course, is to be misrepresented in the press. When I was arrested for speeding once in Brooklyn the papers printed how several hundred letters were received from women asking to let me off. They ignored the fact that I had just as many he-man friends who would be glad to take the bat for me. The grape-fruit throwing episode, for example, has been distorted completely out of proportion, and soon I will be receiving clippings from the coast about rotten eggs and heaven knows what. It is that kind of publicity that I do not like, while the crowds at the stage door are pleasant."

But by this time Mr. Vallee had to prepare for his appearance, and the interviewers, at Mr. Vallee's invitation went into the crowded auditorium to watch his act. Many of the assembly were people from his home town in Maine, and the simple and highly sincere manner with which he acknowledged their ovation was accurate epitome of Mr. Vallee's attitude toward his art and his public