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Welcome to "Idols of the 1920s," where we hope to provide a special, cozy place for those of you who long to linger among the stars of the early silver screen, the hoofers and songbirds of dear old vaudeville's fading hours, a few diva's of the grand opera, and of the operetta too, flappers, flappers, more flappers, and of course, and perhaps especially, those femmes fatales who with one smoldering glance can melt a heart, or break it in two. Have fun!
Pola Negri, born Apolonia Chalupiek in 1897 Poland rose out of poverty and began her performing career as a ballerina. She was struck by tuberculosis, however, and had to give up dancing. She became for a time one of the most popular femme fatales in Hollywood.
She had a long affair with Charles Chaplin, and then Rudolf Valentino, apparently they were lovers until his death in 1926. She was one of the two major femme fatales at Paramount studios, (Gloria Swanson being the other), and according to Chaplin, Paramount dreamed up all kinds of false rivalry and jealousy between Pola and Gloria for publicity purposes.
To give an indication of the way Pola felt about Valentino, here is a quote attributed to Pola Negri, that we found on the great blog:
http://classicglamourchic.blogspot.com/2010/12/pola-negri-talks-more-about-meeting_20.html
"Before he could say another word, we were interrupted by an exceedingly beautiful young blonde. She said in a thick accent, "Rudy, please take me home now. I've an early call in the morning."
Valentino asked, "Do you two know each other? Pola Negri -- Vilma Banky."
I said good night and watched the striking couple walk away. She was one of his favorite leading ladies, and there were many rumors of a romance, which I found myself alternately hoping were true and resenting. I wondered if I was subconsciously jealous but quickly dismissed that as being out of the question. It was no more than a passing physical attraction. There had been my reaction to the way he led me across the floor, merely physical again. No, I had to admit he appealed to something deeper, something atavistic, something so basic in me that I had forgotten it was there, if, indeed, I had ever known it. It stripped away the veneers that went into the composition of my too public self, and exposed what lay beneath. Call it fatalism, but from our very first meeting I knew that somehow this man had the power either to destroy my life or so irrevocably alter its course that it would never again be the same."
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