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THE
LADY VANISHES
From
NEWSWEEK
April 10, 1950
Melodramas have long been the stock in trade of the fusty
old 272-seat Grand Guignol theater in the Pigalle section
of Paris. Next to the Folies Berger and other music halls,
it is the biggest theatrical magnet for tourists. No matter
how sketchy their French, they can always react to screams,
shadowy hands clutching throats, and bodies toppling out
of secret cupboards.
One night last week the Grand Guignol audience was abruptly
told between the second and third acts of James Hadley Chase’s
lurid “No Orchids for Miss Blandish” to get its money back
at the box office. The play could no go on because its star,
a 22-year-old blonde, Nicole Riche, playing her first big
part as an heiress kidnapped and raped by an American gangster,
had suddenly vanished from the theater.
My
Excuses. Backstage gossip reported:
Nicole Riche was handed a note while dressing for
the third act. She read it, turned pale, flung on a mousseline
negligee, and ran to the stage door. There she talked with
a tall blond man in a camel’s hair coat. While the doorman’s
back was turned, she disappeared.
The dressing-room floor yielded
the note: “Mademoiselle,
my excuses for bothering you, but I wish to see you urgently
about your mother. I shall await you in the passage outside.
Best wishes.” It was signed Tesso or Messo. There were also
two unsigned notes. One denounced the play as salacious;
the second read: “You have no right to appear in an immoral production.”
Next day a new actress, Liliane
Ernout, who learned the part in a few hours, announced that
she had received threatening telephone calls. Then the male
lead, 25-year-old Jean-Marc Tennberg swallowed too much
sleeping potion and was taken to the hospital, where doctors
thought they might pull him through.
After two days of mystery, Nicole, still wearing her
negligee, walked into a Paris police station at 4 a.m. on
April Fool’s Day. Her kidnapper had abandoned her without
food in a house an hour’s drive outside the city, she said,
and finally turned her loose in the forest. Friendly gypsies
helped her find her way back. The Pigalle police commissioner
was unsympathetic. “Sheer poppycock,” he said.
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