My husband is Robert Nemiroff, and he, too, is a writer. “I live in the Village, and the way it’s been, people sort of drop in on me and my husband. “I’m going to have some scrambled eggs, medium, because, as far as I know, I haven’t had my breakfast yet,” she went on. Miss Hansberry gave a soft, pleased laugh. What sort of happens is you just hear from everybody!” Meanwhile, it does keep you awfully busy. I’m thrilled, and all of us associated with the play are thrilled. Thomas Wolfe wrote a detailed description of it in ‘You Can’t Go Home Again.’ I must say he told the truth. Then I get a call from a stranger saying ‘This is So-and-So, of the B.B.C.’! It’s the flush of success. “It’s just incredible! I had the number changed, and gave it to, roughly, twelve people. “The telephone has become a little strange thing with a life of its own,” she told us, calmly enough. At her request, we met her in a midtown restaurant, so that she could get away from her telephone. We had a talk recently with Lorraine Hansberry, the twenty-eight-year-old author of the hit play “A Raisin in the Sun.” Miss Hansberry is a relaxed, soft-voiced young lady with an intelligent and pretty face, a particularly vertical hairdo, and large brown eyes, so dark and so deep that you get lost in them.
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