Evansville Courier and Press, January 5, 1936
Macon Telegraph, February 23, 1936
The Meriden Daily Journal, February 29, 1936
BY PAUL HARRISON
Hollywood – Dracula is dead, and the chief celebrant at the obsequies is Bela Lugosi.
Dracula is dead, and Lugosi, who created the monster, hopes that all memories of Dracula will die, too. Dracula made Lugosi famous and then, in true Frankenstein fashion, ruined him. The actor hopes now that he can go on being just an actor and not a horror-master.
With the movies’ genius for re-incarnation, nobody was sure that Dracula had drawn his last evil breath until Universal began filming “Dracula’s Daughter.” Lugosi isn’t even in it. The picture will show a Draculanean dummy on its bier, deader than a doornail.
So Lugosi looks ahead, as he did in the days when he was a leading man in the Hungarian National theatre, playing Ibsen, Shakespeare and such. At 48, his days as a romantic star are over, but at least he can do a variety of roles – most of them sympathetic ones.
He wants to justify the fan mail that Dracula used to receive. A sample: “We women can see in your eyes that you are really a good man. You should play sympathetic parts, too.”
Own Life a Trial
There has been horror enough in his own life. When the war interrupted his acting he was wounded, gassed, shell-shocked, and invalided home a captain. Later he became identified with the wrong side of one of several revolutions which followed the collapse of the Central powers, and fled for his life.
He appeared in German movies and sailed for America on a ship that tried its best to sink all the way across the Atlantic. He knew scarcely a word of English when he landed in New York and started out to rebuild his career.
His heavy accent might have been an insurmountable handicap if a producer hadn’t seen him in a Hungarian play and recommended him for the role of “Dracula.” It played three years, grossed $1,900,000, and later was made on the screen.
But the play typed Lugosi as a heeby-jeeby man. His part in the English “Mystery of the Marie Celeste” was his first return to a straight drama. Recently came his part as the “good” actor, opposing Boris Karloff in “The Invisible Ray,” and two more sympathetic roles will follow. So Lugosi seems to have shaken off Dracula’s ghost.
He lives in a big house surrounded by a wall and five menacing dogs. To see them and the master’s private arsenal, you’d think he still feared reprisal by his Hungarian political enemies of 1919.
He doesn’t, though. Lugosi is an American citizen, and really a very friendly fellow. He’ll show you his stocks of imported wine, and the nauseous sulphur water that he drinks, and his treasured books and oil paintings. His fourth wife is a pretty girl of Hungarian descent who formerly was his secretary. She washes his shirts.
Keeps In Condition
The actor’s remarkable physical condition wasn’t attained without a good deal of self-discipline. He rises early, at 5 or 6 a.m., drinks fruit juice and sulphur water, calls his dogs and hikes 10 or 15 miles in the hills. Returning, he has a bit more fruit juice, or maybe some raw vegetable juice. No solid food until night; then he has raw vegetables and a pound of meat, rare.
Lugosi is a cover-to-cover reader of a dozen leading national magazines. He’s one of the few Hollywoodsmen who takes citizenship seriously; conscientiously registers and votes in every election. Methodical, too; his days are charted to the minute.
Not Like Hollywood
His parties consist mostly of music, a little rare wine, and conversation. Lugosi hasn’t a single close friend in the movie business. He’s voluble about his love for America, but doesn’t care much about Hollywood.
Recently, on the occasion of their fourth wedding anniversary, he took his wife to the Trocadero. It was their first turn at night clubbing.
Ogdensburg Journal, March 30, 1936
Bela Lugosi and Eddie Sutherland are the most-married men. Tied at 4 -4.
Movie Classic, June, 1936
The Film Daily, October 22, 1936
Cleveland Plain Dealer, November 8, 1936
A Woman’s New York by Alice Hughes
I’ve found that the finest way to meet with national delicacies is to hook with citizens of these countries and be led to the trough. In this way you are sure of getting the authentic best. For instance, lugubrious Bela Lugosi, the morose Dracula of the stage and screen, introduced me to veritable chicken paprika and other toothsome Hungarian tricks.