The Crimson submits this Interview as an example to Interviewers throughout the country. This distinguished writer has shown by her Insight into the character of her subject that she is a budding blossom in the journalistic world. The Crimson welcomes to its columns the star of "Roberta."
Last night I was privileged to enjoy one of the more enjoyable privileges of being a stage star. I interviewed a handsome blonde editor of the Harvard Lampoon. He was wearing a ravishing blanket effect jacket supported by yards of flannel beneath, and brought up by a train of black and white shoes. Oh, but let me tell you the whole exciting adventure as it happened.
The curtain had just fallen, and I was rushing to my dressing room, shedding intimate feminine apparel in all directions when the doorman came up to me and said, "Miss Tamara, a young man wishes to see you."
I told the doorman to bring him in and was more than gratified to see the post charming man, whom I recognized at once as a Lampoon man from the expression on his face. I opened the interview as follows.
Tamara: Yes? you wished to see me? What is it?
Lampoon Editor: Well, er, ah, yes. Yes, Yes. I ah, did.
T: What is it you wished?
L. E.: Well, uh, I'm here to interview you. What do I say?
T: I'm sure I don't know. I'm not any more used to this than you. (my modesty.) Why did you come?
L. E.: (Embarrassed) Well, we matched and I was odd man.
T: How do you like Boston audiences?
L. E. (with gleam of intelligence) Hey! I'm supposed to say that.
T: Is your name really? (struck out. No advs, allowed free) Are you really a Russian Princess?
L. E. No, that's just my stage name. No I'm not really--Hey! There's something wrong here.
T: Well, thank you very much for your time, and now, if you don't mind, I'm afraid you're busy.
L. E. Min. Yes, I always like to meet my admirers. It gives one more of a sort of a what-shall-I-say, tsk, tsk, if you get what I mean.
As we parted still good friends, he shock hands with an emphasis that shot your correspondents heart right into her lap. Ah, those men from the Lampoon.
