Photoplay Magazine, Oct. 1915
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wmm mBS^mm ®. OctoLer 75 A Cents \ BEVERLY ^/nnouncihd tM^ Great Beauty a/idMfapis Contest
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Good Sport and Good Smoke Go Together There's more crisp, brisk, youthful vigor in an ounce of "Bull" Durham than in a pound of any other tobacco ever rolled up into a cigarette. It's the co-partner of the go-ahead spirit — the delight of the fresh, unjaded taste that goes with enthusiasm and energy. This grand old tobacco — the favorite of three generations — is today the liveliest smoke in the whole world. GENUINE Bull Durham SMOKING TOBACCO Within the last two years the "roll-your-own" idea has spread amazingly. Thousands of men have learned that their own hand-rolled "Bull" Durham cigarettes have a freshness and fragrance impossible to obtain in any other way. Made exclusively from mild, ripe Virginia- North Carolina "bright" tobacco leaf, "Bull" Durham io unique in its mellow-sweet flavor. Try it once and you'll smoke it always. FREE A sk for FREE pack- age of "papers" with each 5c sack An illustrated Booklet howing correct way to "Roll Your Own Cigarettes, and a package of cigarette papers, will both be mailed, free, to any address in U. S. on request. Address "Bull" Durham, Durham, N.C., Room 1329. THE AMERICAN TOBACCO COMPANY
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Photoplay Magazine — Advertising Section bit Don't Pay a Fancy Price FOR AN ELGIN, WALTHAM OR ROCKFORD WATCH These world famous makes— every design, size, number of jewels, both ladies' and gen- tlemen's— are now offered by Hartman at bargain prices , and on the most liberal credit terms ever made by any con- \^ cern in America. Doubtless you know that these are the world's standard watches. They are so absolutely perfect in every respect that for years they have been recognized as the world's leaders and we know that we can safely give them the backing1 of our unlimited, lifetime guarantee. We further guarantee to make repairs free of charge for all time. Sent On Approval We send any watch shown on this page or in our big watch catalog on approval, all charges prepaid, without 3 1 one penny in advance. Carry it for 30 I days. If you are not then satisfied that it is the watch you've long wanted, return ittousatour expense. The trial costs you nothing. If you decide to keep it, simply make small payment each month, eo small that you scarcely feel it— as low as 50c Per Month If you want to pay cash, you may, but it costs you absolutely not one penny extra to take advan- tage of Hartman's long time, open account credit terms. We make no reduction for cash. No references acked, B3 em- barrassing questions, no mortgage, no security, no inter- est, no collectors. Most liberal, satisfactory credit plan ever devised. Only the mammoth House of Hartman with its enormous purchasing power of more than ten million dollars, can al Con 1 to sell these famous watches at these rock-bottom wholesale prices and on these wonderfully liberal credit terms. PDCE1 Hartman's Beautiful ■ ntt Watch Bargain Catalog Contains the most complete selection of dependable watches ever shown. Handsome, full size illustrations in rich colors. Shows newest 10, 2J. 25-year and permanent guar- anteed cases, also solid gold cases with Inlay Enamel Monograms, Block and Ribbon Monogram, Lodge Emblems. Diamond Set and French Art Designs, open f aceor hunting cases, ladies' and gentle- men's sizes. Get your copy of this free book. Learn our sensational prices and most li'wral credit plan ever devised. Your name and ad- <I rsss on postal will do. Ask for Special Jewelry Catalog No. 418-J HARTMAN'S ,ewe,«* When you write to advertisers please mention PHOTOI'l.AY MAGAZINE
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REG. U. S. PAT. OFF. PHOTOPLAY MAGAZINE "The National Movie Publication" Copyright, 1915, by the Photoplay Publishing Company, Chicago VOL. VIII No. 5 CONTENTS FOR OCTOBER, 1915 Cover Design— BEVERLY BAYNE Pictures of Popular Photoplayers Cleo Madison, Victor Moore, Grace Darmond, Spottiswoode Aitken, Nance O'Neil, Mary Anderson, Betty Schade, Charlotte Burton, Clara Williams, Robert Warwick, Anna Little, Signe Auen, Bryant Washburn, Chester Conklin, Jackie Saunders. . Frontispiece The "Beauty and Brains" Studio The "Beauty and Brains" Contest All about Photoplay Magazine's search for the "Loveliest Ten." That Snow-Cruze Lady (Interview) A celebrity not ashamed of her marriage license. Mi Perdida (Short Story) A song that wove broken heart-strings. A Queen of Two Realms (Picture) The Boss bends to Billie Burke. Wallace Franklin Elwell Lawrence Sold (Short Story) Love's Sacrifice on the Altar of Misunderstanding. Hart of the Plains (Interview) Chronicle of a true son of the west. George Vaux Bacon George DeSalto Garry Bournemouth Julian Johnson Contents continued on next page The Impostor (Short Story) Happiness comes in a cloak of falsehood. "Polly" Frederick (Interview) New England Wisdom through Milady's cigarette smoke. 27 33 36 42 43 52 55 62 inn iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiii Published monthly by the Photoplay Publishing Co., 350 N. Clark St., Chicago, 111. Edwin M. Colvin, Pres. James R. Quirk, Vice-Pres. and Gen. Mgr. Robert M. Eastman, Sec.-Treas. Julian Johnson, Editor. Yearly Subscription: $1.50 in United States, its dependencies. Mexico and Cuba; $2.00 to Canada; $2.50 to foreign countries. Remittances should be made by check, or postal or express money order. Caution— Do not subscribe through persons unknown to you. We employ no subscription solicitors. Entered at the Postorhceat Chicago, III., as Second-class mail matter
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CONTENTS FOR OCTOBER, 1915— Continued i:::!::!::iii!iiiaii!iiBiuiiiiii!M Playing Hookey at the Movies Washington solons with the screen habit. The Circular Staircase (Short Story ) Raising the dead in a house of mystery. The Kick-In Prophets The Brothers DeMille, Lasky's Dramatic Genii. Starting a Picture Show Reefs on the golden shore. The Marriage of Kitty (Short Story) A fortuitous marriage of convenience. Charlie Chaplin's Story — Part IV Down-to-date installment of the comedian's biography. Close-Ups Pertinent and timely observations. "Super the Great" A thumb-nail sketch of Col. T. Wain-Morgan Draper. Investing in the Movies The actual stock-buying procedure. Bill Famum One of the gentlest of fighting men. Plays and Players Latest word from your screen favorites. "LaFilleauDevant" Beverly Bayne "The girl on the cover." Star of the North (Serial) A stirring novel of movies in the north woods. Mollie of the Movies The chum gets another batch of mail. What They Really Get The truth about screen players' salaries. Hints on Photoplay Writing A sample scenario is the department feature. Seen and Heard at the Movies Anecdotes from our readers. The Second Shot (Short Story) How innocence dared the gallows for love. Rocks and Roses In which our feelings are the target. Questions and Answers For the curious millions. Theodore Tiller Gordon Bruce K. Owen Neil G. Caward Edith Huntington Mason Harry C. Carr The Editor Jan Muenchener Paul Davis John Ten Eyck Johnstone Craig Frank Williams Kenneth McGaffey Karl K. Kitchen Leslie T. Peacocke Elliott Balestier S!!III!lll!!Iiil!ID 68 74 82 86 91 97 103 106 107 110 114 119 123 135 138 142 145 147 155 157
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Photoplay Magazine — Advertising Section A Department of Photoplay Review IN the November number of Photoplay Magazine, on sale October 1, will be found this periodical's Department of Comment and Criticism on Current Photoplay s. Thereafter it will be a regular and dependable feature of the magazine. The reviews will be of the broadest scope, and will be of more than momentary interest ; that is, they will reflect the trends of manufacturers and mark the advent of ideas, rather than be of minute and temporary attention to passing productions of ephemeral nature. They will be written by an authority. We aimed to secure the best informed writer in the United States to handle this department. Rather than talk about his ability to handle this big subject, let us ask our readers later if they concur in our judgment. These reviews will be written without fear or favor — old words, but expressive. Photoplay Magazine has but one interest in this new undertaking: the interest of its readers. It serves no other interest; cannot be made to serve any other interest. There is not today one authoritative department of screen criticism in any popular periodical. Is there no need for one — for recognition of accom- plishment as much as for the condemnation of stupid inefficiency? Some American manufacturers and directors have astonished the world by their genius; others, by rotten- ness which flourishes as the rag-weed. Photoplay Magazine's critical department will be constructive in its aims, yet it will carry not only laurel, but a Spencerian sword.
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Photoplay Magazine — Classified Section 66 2-3° o of the advertisers in this classified section have been represented in previous issues. The results justify their remaining with us from month to month. Every adver- tisement has equal prominence and every advertiser, therefore, an equal opportunity. Rate 10c per word. Forms for November issue close Sept. 14 Agents AGENTS— 500% PROFIT; FREE SAMPLES; gold sign letters for store and office windows; anyone can put on. Metallic Letter Co., 414 N. Clark St., Chicago. FREE— TO ANY WOMAN. BEAUTIFUL 42- Piece Gold Decorated Dinner Set for distribut- ing only 3 doz. Free cakes of Complexion Soap. No money or experience needed. F. Tyrrell Ward. 210 Institute Place, Chicago. WE WILL PAY YOU $75 PER MONTH TO travel, collect names, advertise and distribute samples. Expenses advanced. Write today. Rider Co.. Dept. 117, Coshocton, O. MEN NOT EARNING $1,200 YEARLY SHOULD get in touch with largest manufacturer of Transparent handled Knives and Razors in U. S. We will show you how to make more. Novelty Cutlery Co., 2 86 Ba r St., Canton , O. AGENTS WANTED — HIGH GRADE PHOTO finishing. Write Chross Photographic Co., 3817 P. IVImar, St. Louis. Mo. A< i ISNTS — SALA RY OR COMMISSION. Greatest seller yet. Every user pen and ink buys on sight. 200 to 500 per cent profit. One agent's sales $620 in six days; another $32 in two hours. Monroe Mfg. Co., X 56, La Crosse, Wisconsin. CLIFTON'S VACUUM FLESH VITALIZER— 100% profit on every sale. It is an efficient help toward beauty and attractiveness. Write for circular and agents' prices. Clifton Specialty Company, Inc., Buffalo, N. Y. Photoplay Text Books WRITE PHOTOPLAYS— FILM COMPANIES pay $lo to $100 for each play accepted. Con- stant demand. No correspondence course. Our book tells all, sample play, list of companies buying plays, etc. Write today for free details. Atlas Pub. Co.. 394 Atlas Bldg., Cincinnati, O. MAKE BIG MONEY WRITING MOVING PIC- ture plays in spare time. Correspondence course Unnecessary. Our up-to-date "Book of instruc- tions" tells how. Sample play, list of companies buying plays. Free details and special offer. E-Z .Scenario Company, X 309 West 93rd St., New York. Salesman SALESMEN — GET OUR PLAN FOR MoNO- gruming automobiles, motorcycles, traveling bags, trunks, etc.. by transfer methods; very large profits. Motorists' Accessories Company, Ashland, Ohio. Coins and Stamps COINS. 5 FOREIGN AND LISTS, 10c. 15. 25c. Moore Coin Company, Commerce, Texas. EDUCATING. INTERESTING. WAR COINS? Ten, 25c. Leo MacDonough. Toledo, Ohio. STAMPS SENT ON APPROVAL AT 70% Dis- count. Precancels Vic each. Reference required. J. Emory Renoll, C 21, Hanover, Penna. Pictures and Post Cards 16 PHOTOS OF FEMALE BEAUTIES TAKEN from life for 10 cents. Kaye Co., Box 67, Ottawa, III. SEPTEMBER MORN AND THREE REAL photos of feminine beauty that are better than September Morn. Posed by living models. The four photos 25c in silver. Mack Art Co., 609 7th Ave. So., Minneapolis, Minn. Melba, Idaho, Branch. STUNNING PHOTOS OF GIRLS FROM LIFE. Bewitching, unusual poses. Very clear. Splen- did sample pack for 25c. Reuben Olive, Will- mar, Minn. * FOR MOVIE STARS' PHOTOS OR POST- cards see Film Portrait Company advertisement on page 174. JOIN THE OXFORD POSTCARD EXCHANGE and receive cards from faraway lands. Member: ship 10c. Keniston, Publisher, South Paris, Maine. ^^^ ART POSES. RARE. IMPORTED MODELS. Sample and catalog 10c. J. Tlllberg. Proctor. Vt. "BEWITCHING FEMALE BEAUTY POSES." rare imported models, taken from real life, hand- tinted "True to nature." Send dime for two of our best full-size samples and catalog showing nearly 100 beautiful, bewitching girl poses, etc. You'll want more after seeing samples. Wil- liams Publishing Co., 721-M North Dearborn, Chicago. REAL PHOTOS OF PRETTY GIRLS IN bewitching poses, samples, 10c. K. L. Sun Co., Harrison, M i ch. 10 CLASSY POSTCARDS AND CATALOGUE, 10c. Stewart Co., Providence, R I. For the Photographer ROLL FILM DEVELOPED. 10c: PACKS. 20c: Prints. Brownies, 2c: la, 3x4, 3x5, and Post Cards, 3c each. Work returned next day. Postage paid. Kodak Finishing Co., 112 Merchants Station, St. Louis. FILMS DEVELOPED 10c. ALL SIZES. PRINTS 2U-314. 3c; 2%-4i,i. 3%-3%. 3%-4H. 4c; Post Cards, 50c doz. Work guaranteed and returned 24 hours after receiving. Postpaid. Send nega- tives for samples. Girard's Commercial Photo Shop, Holyoke. Mass. AMATEUR PHOTOGRAPHERS SEND NAME and address for information that will interest and benefit you. Myland, 2125 N. Front, Phila- delphia, Pa. Educational AMERICA'S FINEST PENMAN TEACHES rapid, tireless business writing by mail. Journal free. Francis B. Courtney, Box P, 492, Detroit. Mich. Games TRICK CARDS AND JOKERS CATALOG. 10c. McGuinness Company, 109 Weirfleld Street, Brooklyn, N. Y. (CONTINUED ON PAGE 8)
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Photoplay Magazine — Advertising Section (CLASSIFIED SECTION CONTINUED FROM PAGE 7) Help Wanted GOVERNMENT POSITIONS PAY BIG money. Get prepared for "exams" by former Government Examiner. Booklet free. Write to- day. Patterson Civil Service School, Box 3017, Rochester, N. Y. WANTED — MEN TO GET MEMBERS AND establish lodpres on commission basis for the Owls. South Bind, Imltan'a. $250 FOR RELIABLE MAN OR WOMAN; distribute 2,000 free pkffd. Borax Powder with Soaps, etc., in your town. No money or ex- perience needed. F. Ward Co., 210 Institute, Chicago. CHAUFFEURS GET $25 TO $50 WEEK. Many needed. In 10 weeks, with our coaching you can hold position. Sample Automobile in- structions free. Write immediately, Franklin Institute, Dip't B-21S. Rochester. N. Y. W ANTE D — CIRCULAR DISTRIBUTORS. Send 10c for application contract. Oliver H. Barklcy, Mount Pleasant, Penna. Plays ACTORS. MANAGERS, PROFESSIONALS, Amateurs^ — send stamp for catalogue plays, vaudeville acts, etc. New York Play Bureau, Tremont Theatre, New York. Photoplays LEARN TO MAKE DISAPPEARING PHOTOS. Phosphorescent Photos, Photos on Apples, China- ware, Cloth, etc. Latest fads. Big money makers. Disappearing Photo and particulars free. A. O. Benson, Stewartville, Minn. Typewriters LARGEST STOCK OF TYPEWRITERS IN America — All makes: Underwoods, Olivers, Rem- ingtons, etc., one-fourth to one-half manufac- turers' prices, $15.00 up; rented anywhere, ap- plying rent on price; free trial; installment pay- ments if desired. Write for Catalogue 65, Type- writer Emporium (Estab. 1892), 31-36 West Lake Street. Chicago. Illinois. Duplicating Devices OUR "MODERN" DUPLICATOR— Y OURS for $2.40. No (Rue or Gelatine. Always Ready. All Sizes. Free Trial. 34,000 Users. Standard for 15 years. Booklet Free. Sole Mfrs. F. C. Durkin & Reeves Co., 339 Fifth Ave., Pittsburg, Pa. Patents WANTED IDEAS. WRITE FOR LIST OF Patent Buyers and Inventions Wanted. $1,000,- 0110 in prizes offered for inventions. Send sketch for free search. Our four books sent free. Patents secured or Fee Returned. Victor J. Evans & Co.. 819 F. Washington, D. C. Miscellaneous SEE YOUR NAME WRITTEN TWELVE D1F- ferent styles — liner than you have ever seen be- for. Send 20c (2 dimes) today. Albert Meub, Expert Penman. R. 2, Pasadena. Calif. BOOKKEEPERS — WRITERS- FINGER TIP and Nail Protectors prevent ink-smeared lingers and smudged work; 15c set. postpaid. Institute Mfg. Co., Dept. 14, Akron. Ohio. Charlie Chaplin Squirt Ring HERE YOU ARE, BOYS-A medallion rinK of Charlie Chaplin. Everyone will see it on your finger and try to Ret a better look. Press the bulb, and Charlie will do the rest by squirting a fine stream of water all over the curious one. Will squirt 20 feet. Greatest joke out and brand new. By mail with big catalog 15 cents. FISHER NOVELTY CO. Dept. A, 721 Sterling Place, BROOKLYN, N.Y. liHJ Jiioo^P £Tdfor a«c5J pted. _/c«niDemand r spare time.Startatonce SggPENCEcmiPsr: 9 DETAILS FREE Atlas Publishing Co. EH AtlasBldg.Cincimiati BIG PACKAGE OF FUN |Qfi Imitation Gold Tooth, Voice Thrower * " " Roll of Stige Money, Chess and Checker Game, Fox and Geese, Nine Men Morris, Authors, Span- j)»y w(l ish Prison, Dominoes, 14 Flirtation Signals, 12 [ft^yjjj Love Letters, 73 Toasts, 16 Feats in Parlor Magic, W^^JL _ 1 Fortune Telling Secrets, 10 Funny Readings, 15 Tricks with Cards, 40 Experiments in Magic, 52 i Money Making Secrets, 250 Jokes and Riddles, 12 Flirtation Cards. 14 Pictures of Married Life. 51 Verses of Comic Poetry mid 11 Parlor Pastimes; all for 10c and a 2c stamp to cover mailing. ROGERS & ROTH, 32 Union Sq., Dept. 45, NEW YORK CITY JWW FRE trad OOX N0>pai;r bnftk before i-mollim: Cor ;m> 1*» rmirsr. Tells how judge claims of correspondence schools, and explains the Amrrienn 1 I Srhnol'a simple method of law instruction. Prepared by 56 legal authori- I ties— 28 more subjects and 30 more authors than any other co TespotvL-iice law course. 13 volume Law Librarv. 60 Text Books, and 36 Case Books | furnishrd even* student. Send (or your free bonk today. AMERICAN SCHOOL OF CORRESPONDENCE | Dept. 1467, Drexel Avenue and 58th Street, Chicago. U. S. A. Wear H A Week At Our Expense We will send yoa a genuine Hel ion Jewel set In solid sold for a whole week's free trial. Compare it with a diamond, in brilliance, hard- ness and beauty. If youcantellthe difference, send it back. Write today for New Jewelry Book. See illustrations of the exquisite Kerns. No obligations. The book is I l.'l.K. John A. Sterling & Son &?:.,""? "ii'S. FUNABOUT FORDS A regular book of sidesplitting funniest stories and poems about Ford autos. 64 pages, board cover, two colors. Only 25c Prepaid The Howell Co., 608 S. Dearborn St.. Dent. 1467. Chionco TYPEWRITERS^. rrires glum ni>, SOLD or IMMin AXTW'HEltE at '/a "; look Ilka new, guaranteed like new. Our big business Insures "Square Deal" and permits lowest oash prtoes — $10 and up; also naahloea Rented — or sold on time. Ho natter what your requirements aro.we oan boat serve you* '"rito and see - IT0W* TDUBG RHMBflBt CO, Dept, aid CHICAGO
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Photoplay Magazine — Advertising Section You and Lincoln Now May Meet —Will You Accept ? THE immortal American, the great, unselfish, sacrificing, noble Abraham Lincoln, whose life was a veritable moving picture of adventure — is to live again for you. He is coming to speak to you, to show you how he met adversity, how he rose from obscurity to the heights; how he conquered ignorance and educated himself ; how he shattered the grim prison of his desolate log cabin and rose to the Presidential Chair. Volumes — nay, libraries have been written about Lincoln's life. But the pages of history are no longer the only memorial of Abraham Lincoln. You need not turn only to the legends of him. He is living again. He has come back to life in the spirit and person of Benjamin Chapin. Benjamin Chapin is known to all the world as the Lincoln man. He looks like Lincoln. He acts like Lincoln. He talks like Lincoln. He lives like Lincoln. His body is the uncouth, awkward, lanky Lincoln body. His eyes look out with the same whimsical, gentle Lincoln smile. Now, this Chapin, this Lincoln man, this great exponent of the Lincoln ideal, has been for fifteen years preparing and the Charter Features Corporation has been for two years producing a great series of moving picture stories of Lincoln's adventures, under the name of The Lincoln Cycle with Chapin's Lincoln It takes you from the days of Lincoln's ancestors down to the assassination by Booth at Ford's theatre. It shows you Lincoln, the boy, struggling for an education, the rail splitter, the grocer, the lawyer, the legislator, the Presi- dent, the Emancipator of the slaves, the inspiration of the soldiers, the nurser of the wounded, the maligned, the cursed, the hated, but now all-beloved Lincoln. You May See These Great, Exciting, Pathetic, Humorous Incidents of Lincoln's Adventures If You Will You attend the movie theatres— You are the one that the theatre man wishes to please. If you want to see Lincoln there is one easy, absolutely positive way to see him, and that is to ask for the Lincoln Cycle. And in order that you may be able to see it, if you wish, we attach herewi th a little certi ficate on which you may write your name and address and the name of your theatre, and we. on your behalf, will approach the manager of that theatre and say that you are anxious to see the Lincoln Cycle. It means you are setting in mo- tion the wheels which are to bring1 to you this cycle of powerful, grip- ping, soul-stirring and heart in- spiring stories of the greatest man who ever trod the soil of America. It means that you are to have in FREE! For your co-operation Mr, Chapin will per- sonally autograph one of his photographs as Lincoln, and he will send it to you with his compliments on receipt of your name. This photograph of Chapin's Lincoln is of such startling; accuracy that magazines have paid big prices for the privi- lege of printing it. Due we will give you this ready for framing with our compliments. Today, before you turn this page, take your pencil, sign your name and mall the certificate. Benjamin Chapin has devoted his life to the exposition of the Lincoln ideal. It has been his creed that to spread Lincoln ideals would be to make America better, to make Americans approach nearer that liberty, freedom and equality for which America stands. So wonderfully has Chapin characterized Lincoln, so truly has he brought him back to live with us, that every- where thousands of dollars have been spent to catch a single glimpse of this great dramatist. On the vaudeville stage they paid Chapin a thousand a week, and on the Lyceum circuit they paid him the highest fees ever given to anyone. In universities, colleges and schools they have given a great deal to hear a word or catch a glimpse of Lincoln. Charter Features Corp. your moving picture theatre the great actor whom people have paid many dollars to see, where, at your leisure, you can watch the gradual growth of this great character. It means that you, as well as other millions of Americans, are going to be able to have the Lincoln Cycle in your town. The Lincoln Cycle is going to be- gin in September. This is your opportunity to see these pictures just as early and just as quickly and just as surely as any other of millions of other true Americans, true patriots and true lovers of motion pictures. 110 W. 40th Street NEW YORK CITY ............... CUT OUT HERE ; ■ CHARTER FEATURES CORP. : 110 W. 40th Street, NEW YORK CIT Because I am anxious to see the Lincolr J and because I want to get somt> literature m and a picture of Chapin's Lincoln. hlV 5 sending you this certificate which ' ■ enter, making me a charter member' I Cycle moving picture lovers. X^ ■ When you write to advertisers please men*1
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10 Photoplay Magazine — Advertising Section The Secret of Fast Typewriting New Methods enables any one to write 80 to 100 words a minute without mis- takes. It's all in the FINGERS. Doubles and Trebles Salaries Now, for the first time, has an idea been discov- ered which puts speed — great speed and accuracy — within the reach of every typewriter user. Almost overnight it has revolutionized the whole typewrit- ing situation. Stenographers who formerly never exceeded 30 to 40 words a minute are writing 80 to 100 words with less effort and with infinitely greater accuracy than ever before. And their salaries have jumped from a meagre $8 to $15 per week to $30, $40 and even $50. Amazingly Easy for Anyone No matter how low your present speed, no matter how labored your efforts, no matter how weak or clumsy your fingers now seem to be, no matter how little or how much experience you have had, no matter what other courses you have taken, this new method will positively bring you the desired results, as thous- f/~ ands of stenogra- ^A> phers — and >v ministers, ■^. lawyers, - ** wr'ters *q and reporters as well — have ■^ already proven. A few A» short weeks of spare 'O- time study is all V*, that is required ■^ and the work A is simply Ij. fascin ating Why Aren't Stenographers Better Paid? Whv are most stenographers Retting only ?8 to S15 a week— while others get $25. $30, $40 and even $50? Eight words tell the story. It's nothing in the world but lack of speed and accu- racy on the typewriter that is keeping salaries down— that is robbing most stenographers of the pay they ought to get. Think a minute. What is a stenographer paid for? Isn't it for your finished product -for the quantity and quality of letters or other type- written matter you can turn out in a day? No matter how good you are at shorthand, you can never expect much increase in pay until you get speed— real speed— and accuracy on the typewriter. Here are a few examples of how New Way in Typewriting has already resulted in increased pay. Letters from these students and from scores of others will be found in the free book. What it has done for them it will do for you. Raise First Year Richard Clarke . $ 900 R. 1. Rankin . 421) Carlos C. Guerre 2.000 C. C. Dorsey . 300 J. P. Jones . 900 H. K. Temme 540 Trained Fingers — The New Way European music teachers, when training their pu- pils for the piano, invariably give special gymnastic finger exercises. This is because untrained fingers are not skillful fingers. The best results cannot be obtained — the fingers simply cannot be used cor: rectly — unless the student develops and strengthens the proper finger muscles. This training is even more essential to expert type- writing. The reason that so few people can write more than 30 to 40 words a minute is because their fingers are not flexible or nimble enough. This new easy method overcomes this at once — develops finger strength and flexibility by ex- ercises away from the machine — trains the fingers beforehand for their work on the machine — and the results border on the miraculous. > Raise First Year J. H.Krull . . $836 O. B. Hunter . . 780 S. Shainin . . 1.800 Marie Parker 240 A. H. Gardiner . 900 E. Stoncman . 780 Valuable Book Free We have prepared a book which tells all about the wonderful gymnastic finger exercises and explains the course in complete detail, which is free to those inter- ested. It is a big 48-page book, brimful of eye-opening ideas and valuable information. It explains how this unique new method will quickly make your fingers strong and dex- trous, bring them under per- fect control, make them ex- tremely rapid in their movements — how in afewshort weeks you can transform your typewriting and make it easy, accurate and amazingly speedy— all this and much more is told in detail. No instruction bookeverwritten.no matter what its cost, ever told so plainly the real WHY and HOW of expert typewriting. If you are ambitious to get ahead— if you want to make your work easier— if you want to put more money in your pay envelope— get this book at once. It will be a revela- tion to you as to the speed and salary that is possible to typists. Tear orTihe coupon now, before you turn the page >TOI'I.AY MAGAZINE Is guaranteed.
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CLEO MADISON a favorite Universal player,owned a stock company, in which she starred, and spun on the vaudeville wheel before she went into moving pictures. Her work in " Shadows of Life," and three pirate pictures, " Under the Black Flag," " Captain Kidd " and " The Buccaneers" has been most impressive. She was born in Chicago.
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Photoplay Magazine tsa 38 VICTOR MOORE one of the best-known comedians of the legitimate stage, made his screen debut not many months ago, under the Lasky banner, in George Bronson Howard's play, "Snobs." Mr. Moore's success was so marked, and his liking for photoplay work so pronounced, that he will probably remain permanently in the domain of pantomimic drama. His best-known stage work was "ChimmieFadden."
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Photoplay Magazine mi mi mm^mi GRACE DARMOND is one of the youngest leading women in moving pictures. In " The House of a Thousand Candles" and "The Millionaire Baby," both Selig feature plays, she scored distinct personal triumps. Her first acting experience was as Editha, in " Editha's Burglar," a legitimate play. Miss Darmond was born in Chicago eighteen years ago.
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Photoplay Magazine mi r*a m SPOTTISWOODE AITKEN is D. W. Griffith's leading character man and will long be remembered as Dr. Cameron in "The Birth of a Nation." He was born in Edinburgh, Scot- land, and began his theatrical career at the age of 17. He was of the original cast of "The Dangers of London," and held many other important stage engagements. He is an excellent cartoonist, a proud father and an enthusias- tic though not notably successful gardener.
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Photoplay Magazine mi m. iIK NANCE O'NEIL a tragedienne, to whom the word "distinguished " may justly be applied, has made a remarkable success in a series of tremendous roles during her few months in active photography — all of which service has been with Fox. Miss O'Neil is a Californian, achieved footlight fame under the direction of McKee Rankin, and is unmarried. " Nance O'Neil " is a stage name, her own name being Lamson.
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Photoplay Magazine & m ess MARY ANDERSON one of the most attractive of the Vitagraph players, was born in Brooklyn, New York, June 28, 1897. She went into pictures directly from high school. Her first picture was in support of John Bunny. Before going into the movies, Miss Anderson was quite successful in Grecian dances at which she was expert, but which were not approved of by father.
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Photoplay Magazine SgE m subbbsme BETTY SCHADE a specimen of loveliness difficult to match in any department store of beauty, has been identified with several photoplay producing organizations in the vicinity of Los Angeles, and is at present with the Lasky company. Miss Schade not only photographs well in the films, but has been a camera art- subject of wide renown in the past few years. Chicago is her birthplace.
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Photoplay Magazine CHARLOTTE BURTON the villainess in "The Diamond From The Sky" was born in San Francisco, May 30th, 1890. She made her debut at the age of eight in " The Brownies in Fairyland." Although Miss Burton is a very sweet and decorative little person in private life, she is a most expert photoplay villainess and any plot in which she is called upon to tangle up the skeins of romance, may be counted upon to supply plenty of thrills.
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Photoplay Magazine CLARA WILLIAMS is of the dark, Spanish type of beauty so rich in emotional power. She was born in Seattle. As a child she appeared on the stage and was drafted to pictures by the Essanay company in 1910. Her best work has been seen in " The Reward," " Winning Back," and " The Italian." She is one of the New York Motion Picture Corporation's prize players.
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Photoplay Magazine im lIK WE =IIS8^i§l!I! _i!<3 ROBERT WARWICK of the World Film Corporation, is a product of the West, and music is the art that first attracted him. He studied singing in Europe but his voice failed, and he turned to the dramatic stage. He was first seen in films in "The Man of the Hour." " The Dollar Mark " and " Alias, Jimmy Valentine," are other pictures in which his work was notable.
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Photoplay Magazine RE TM !!£•; J mi aneun ANNA LITTLE of the Universal, is the cow-girl heroine of the little boys and the middle-aged boys and the gray-haired boys of the United States, who have accepted the press-agent's catch-line " darling daughter of the plains,1' without question. She is a native of California and unmarried. Her work in " Damon and Pythias," and "The Opened Shutters" attracted wide attention.
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Photoplay Magazine mi im JES mi &MSMIE SIGNE ATJEN of the Reliance-Majestic went into theatricals as a breadwinner. She was prominent in the younger social set of Spokane, Wash., when a financial crash that ruined her father, prompted her to seek work. After six weeks in stock she entered pictures. She is a graduate of a well known woman's school, and studied music and art, in Copenhagen. Her best work was in "The Fox Woman."
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Photoplay Magazine BRYANT WASHBURN who made a perfect transition from villainy to heroism, after serving the Essanay company in base capacities so long that virtue seemed impossible, is a native of Chicago, is in his fourth year in Essanay pictures, and came to the screen after thorough stage tuition, including roles in George Fawcett's vehicles, appearances with Percy Haswell in Toronto, and a year's starring tour in " The Wolf." Mr. Washburn is under thirty.
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Photoplay Magazine he m iSH CHESTER CONKLIN, who is widely known as Mr. Droppington was born in Oskaloosa, Iowa in 1886. He went into stock in comedy and in serious parts, all of which were equally funny. Mr. Conklin decided to stick to intentional comedy. His summers Mr. Conklin spent clowning with a circus. Two years ago Mack Sennett signed him for the Keystone.
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Photoplay Magazine EE m JACKIE SAUNDERS of the Balboa company is just as trig and chic as her name, and even the extra girls admit they couldn't do better in her parts. She is twenty and was born in Philadelphia. As soon as she was old enough to care for herself, she went on the stage. " Gypsie Love," " Little Jackie " and " Rose of the Alley " adorn her three years in pictures.
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Girls, This is Your Arena — if you are one of the fortunate winners in the great Photoplay Magazine— World Film "Beauty and Brains" contest just starting. It is the interior of the Peerless Studio at Fort Lee, N. J. This is the principal World studio, where Clara Kimball Young, Robert Warwick, Vivian Martin and other illustrious persons have made their great pictures. It is just across the Hudson River from New York City.
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ti\frrri-t]fTfrf,'rm ivyrf^iTr^ijTOjim;' *-■ < y "ySl The "Beauty and Brains" Contest PARTICULARS OF THE GREAT PHOTOPLAY MAGAZINE-WORLD FILM COMPETITION, NOW COMMENCING— THE CHANCE OF CHANCES FOR HALF A SCORE AMERICAN GIRLS TO BECOME MOVING PICTURE STARS THE ''Beauty and Brains" Contest, under the auspices of Photoplay Magazine and The World P'ilm Corporation, is now on. This contest was instituted for two pur- poses : to give ten unknown young Amer- ican women a chance for stellar honors in the great field of motion pictures ; to pro- vide one of the biggest of the producing companies with ten possible stars. Here are the particulars: It is only necessary that the contestants shall have had no previous stage or picture experience. Actresses, either of the "legiti- mate" or photoplay stages, will not be con- sidered. For the rest, send two photographs to The Judges, "Beauty and Brains" Contest. Photoplay Magazine, 350 North Clark Street, Chicago. Send a profile picture, and a full face study. Every picture should have the full name and address of the sub- ject written on the back ; pictures not so backed will not be considered. The sender must also write a letter of not more than 150 words stating: "Why I would like to be a photoplay actress." From the photographs and letters so re- ceived the judges will select two from each National Grand Division. Particulars con- cerning the five Grand Divisions are given in the ensuing paragraphs. The ten girls from the five Grand Divi- sions will be taken to New York in first class trains, will be properly chaperoned in the metropolis, and will be lodged expenses paid in full, at one of Manhattan's most celebrated hotels, and, within two weeks at most after their arrival in New York, will be given photographic and dramatic trials at the Fort Lee, New Jersey, studios of the World Film Corporation. Those contestants who pass the final pho- tographic and acting requirements, under the tutelage of the World's most eminent directors, will be given contracts as World Film actresses for a period of not less than one year, at a regular salary. Those who do not pass the final trials will, in a first class manner, and without any expense to them whatsoever, be re- turned to their homes. Thus the winners will either have estab- lished futures at a single cast of the dice of chance — or, failing that, they will in any event have had one of the most interesting 27
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28 Photoplay Magazine Vivian Martin, World Film star. experiences and the greatest trip of their lives. The ten winners will be announced, and their pictures and letters will be pub- lished, in Photoplay Magazine for Feb- ruary, 1916. Next month the names of the Judges will be given, and further particulars will be published in detail. LIERE are the Grand Divisions of the A ^contest by States, and from each Grand Division will come a pair of "Twins of Future Celebrity." The Eastern Division is composed of the states of Maine, Vermont. New Hamp- shire, Massachusetts, Rhode Island. Con- necticut, New York, New Jersey. Dela- ware, Maryland, Virginia, and North Car- olina. The East Central Division is composed of Ohio, West Virginia, Pennsylvania, Kentucky, Indiana and Michigan. The West Central Division is composed of Illinois, Wisconsin, Missouri, Iowa, Kansas, North Dakota, South Dakota, Min- nesota, and Nebraska. The Western Division is composed of Montana, Wyoming, Colorado, New Mex- ico, Arizona, Utah, Idaho, Washington, Oregon, Nevada, and California. The Southern Division is composed of South Carolina, Georgia, Florida, Ala- bama, Tennessee, Arkansas, Mississippi, Louisiana, Oklahoma, and Texas. THE most remarkable artistic offer of bona-fidc nature ever made to the young women of America is contained in the terms of the Photoplay Magazine- World Film "Beauty and Brains" contest, the simple but explicit terms of which are announced above. The art of Active Photography, the big- gest, newest, most universal and most hu- manly serviceable of all the arts, is crying aloud for exponents. Especially, it wants young women. It must have — as the name of this contest implicitly implies — "Beauty and Brains." No qualification is necessary beyond their possession. Alice Brady, snapped at Fort Lee studio.
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The "Beauty and Brains" Contest 29 A Group of "World" Celebrities An informal photograph from the Fort Lee studios. Standing, left to right: Director Capellam. Director Crane, Director Chautard, Holbrook Blinn, Director Tourneur, Alice Brady, Director Young, Clara Kimball Young. Seated, same order: Elaine Hammerstein, Wilton Lackaye. Dorothy Fairchild. No "favorites" will be picked. Neither Photoplay Magazine nor the World Film Corporation has a protege, or proteges, to "plant" in the minds and hearts of the American public. This is not a contest for the commercial exploitation of one photoplay. It is not a contest on ■which interest will be wearily reiteratingly centered on one pretty girl. It is a sincere effort to give to ten repre- sentative young American women The Big Chance. "THE World Film Corporation wants new stars. Its avarice for loveliness and talent is like the avarice of Moloch for its old-time sacrifices of beauty and youth — except that this is a complimentary, benefi- cent avarice — an avarice which serves rather than consumes. Photoplay Magazine, as a periodical appealing to and serving the photoplay public of the whole country, is the vehicle whereby this film manufacturing company and its unknown, future leading women may be brought together. And there vou are. P\() you know that a photograph is more Xhzn a map of one's features — that it is an index to mentality, and oftentimes, to character ? That is why the preliminary stage of this contest is to be decided upon photographs, aided by the letters, as an index of natural intelligence and education. These young women will eventually have the camera for a master, so it is well to see. right at the start of the affair, how well they serve it ; and, in turn, what it can do for them. Some sorts of beautv do not respond to the lens. Some lovely girls who would attract far more than momentary attention in a street, or at a public gathering, simply "will not photograph." This is a bit of tragedy, too. Why don't they "photo- graph" ? Lots of answers, and no two vol- unteer answerers seem to agree. Some say too much vivacity is responsible ; others, that immobility of countenance always make a bad picture. At any rate, the fact is unalterable, and the pretty girls who won't "photograph" must stand aside, now. for the pretty girls who do. This is a
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30 Photoplay Magazine Clara Kimball Young, in her dressing-room at the World studio, at Fort Lee, N. J. prime reason for judgment upon photo- graphs. "THE World Film Corporation, which is the manufacturing and presentation end of this joint offer, is one of the biggest and most active photoplay makers in the world. Its central offices are located at 130 West Forty-sixth Street, New York City, and from these offices radiate lines of pic- ture service throughout the world. There is not an American city of conse- quence, and few hamlets, in which World Film plays are not shown every day. Its principal studios are located at Fort Lee, New Jersey, just across the Hudson from Upper Manhattan. Thus its actors may virtually live "on Broadway," and at the same time be easily prompt at the 'cross- river studios in the morning. This company's "locations" are by no means confined to New Jersey. It makes its pictorial product all over the country — wherever the story seems to demand its situation nor do our boundaries even limit its stage. At Fort Lee will be found, in daily work upon the architecture of future dramatic masterpieces, men like Maurice Tourncur, the famous Frenchman who staged such successes as "Alias Jimmy Valentine," and "Les Miserables;" Albert Capellani, who made the production of "The Face in the Moonlight;" Emile Chautard, who guided the famous actor Holbrook Blinn through "The Boss," which Blinn himself had put on as a play upon the limited stage — and, perhaps better known than any of them to the public at large, James Young, whose "Hearts in Exile," a Russian masterpiece, will remain one of the great dramatic pic- tures of 1915.
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The "Brains and Beauty" Contest 31 I N the World studios Lillian Russell made *her "Wildfire" picture; Lew Fields im- mortalized "Old Dutch;" William Elliott appeared in "Women and Wine;" Tom Wise played "A Gentleman from Missis- sippi," and Wilton Lackaye perpetuated his wonderful Svengali in "Trilby." These be stars from the legitimate — but here, regularly employed, are Clara Kim- ball Young, and Vivian Martin, and Rob- ert Warwick, and Alice Brady and Hol- brook Blinn, and many others who have won an imperishable place in the affections of all American lovers of the play. Every contestant who wins the prelimi- nary of this great trial — and there will be ten of them — will be brought to New York like a little Princess, live like a little Princess at one of the most famous and most dignified of the New York hotels, and be chaperoned as circumspectly as a little Princess, too ! This last statement is not intended to carry the similitude of guard- ianship into any impetuous girl's jubliant but suspicious mind. It is intended to allay any mother's fear that her daughter will not have every kindness, service and thought of an actual home about her dur- ing this thrilling trip to the greatest Amer- ican city, and to the center of the world's greatest art industry. Arrangements have been made for all of these things, and further details will be announced in the November issue of Pho- toplay Magazine. T^HE "Beauty and Brains Contest" orig- ■*■ inated with The World Film Corpora- tion. They had received hundreds of ap- plicants for positions ; their agents, in different parts of the country, had inter- viewed hundreds more, unavailingly. In despair, Some One said : "There must be, unknown and perhaps in distant states, beautiful, talented girls awaiting the Great Opportunity, while we, just as helplessly, and in ever greater need, await these girls — the stars of tomorrow. How shall we reach them?" Then another Some One put into words the fundamental idea of the contest as it has taken shape. One more question arose : Who should preach this gospel of Beauty and Brains? What was the best medium for the Oppor- tunity that Was to reach the Girls Who Might Be? And in the council there was but one answer: Photoplay Magazine. Five Grand Divisions of the Contest 1SS3 Western ESwl Division West Central Division East Central Division Southern Division Eastern Division
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• / haven't even had a chance to answer my letters, " said Marguerite Snow. 32
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That Snow-Cruze Lady STELLAR MARGUERITE, A CELEBRITY WHO ISN'T ASHAMED OF HER MARRIAGE LICENSE By Wallace Franklin TH IS story is supposed to be about Marguerite Snow but really it isn't about her at all. It's about Mrs. J immy Cruze. ( >f course Marguerite Snow and Mrs. I immy Cruze are one and the same but nevertheless, they are very different. At the Quality Studio out in Hollywood I caught a quick glimpse of Marguerite Snow, a superb creature in "The Second in Command" acting her part with an inten- sity and fervor responding to Bushman's impetuous mood as the flying sparks from an anvil re- spond to blows from a hammer. The next clay I went to a little Hollywood bunga- low to interview- Marguerite Snow, but instead I had a little breezy chat w i t h Mrs. Jimmy Cruze and the one and only Julie. The light in her -"ft brown eyes as she talked of Julie and her home was as different from the sparkling brilliance I had seen at the studio as the glow of a firefly is from the sputter of an arc- light For there are just two big things in which Mrs. Jimmy is interested — Julie and her home. "Really." she said. "I'm afraid I'll make an awfully poor sub- ject for an interview. This is Julie Cruze. The license is not attached to Julie, but to the car. I don't ride horseback or swim or golf or run over people in my car or do any of those 'stunts' that make good reading." "The truth of the matter is that I hardly know- how to drive my own car and I much prefer the back seat to the driver's. The only real hobby I have is taking care of the baby and getting the place fixed up for J immy. "You know, Jimmy has been away for nearly three months. He started out here at the same time I did. but he is driving a car across the con- tinent, making one night stands on the way and is having the time of his life. "I've tried so hard to get the garden and the lawn all fixed up nice for him but" — with a rueful gaze at the lawn — "some gophers have got it in for me and have been tearing things up in an aw- fully discouraging manner." Julie. Mrs. Jimmy informed me, is go- ing to have her own sweet way about her career. She certain- ly comes from a theatrical family but when she made her debut in the pictures in a scene from "The Million Dollar Mys- tery." she acted in a scandalous manner. "Maybe thou g hi" said M r s. Cruze. "her exhibition of temperament goes to show that she has 33
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34 Photoplay Magazine histrionic ability. It's not merely temper." Certainly, if Julie ever was afraid of the camera, she has mastered her emotions to a marked degree for one so young, as the camera man had difficulty in taking any photographs of Miss Snow without chain- ing the everpresent Julie to the porch. Most babies are immortalized in one way or another, but Julie Craze will go down into fame of the near future as the young- est heroine of a five reel feature ever made. Every month since Julie's debut in this vale of sorrows her fond parents have had about twenty-five feet of movie film taken of her and it is their intention to spring the animated autobiography on her at some future date. Julice came by her name in a queer way. Mrs. Cruze had made up her mind that she was going to name her offspring Jimmy Cruze, Jr., in honor of her celebrated hus- band, and had laboriously embroidered the initials J. C. on a little coat. And then when the baby arrived circum- stances demanded that another name be chosen, for Jimmy makes kind of an awk- ward name for a girl. Mrs. Jimmy abso- lutely refused to change the initials on the embroidery and therefore she picked Julie as the prettiest name she could think of to fit the circumstances. "Anyhow," she said. "I had kind of hoped it would be a girl, because I knew I could dress her up so much prettier than if it were a boy." "I guess the real reason why I like mov- ing pictures better than I ever did the stage is because when you are working in pictures you get a chance to settle down and have a home while when you are on the stage life is just one hotel after another. "I started out on the stage when I was fourteen and was dragged around all over the universe by unfeeling managers until five years ago, when I got a chance to go to work for the Thanhouser people in New Rochelle. "You don't know what a relief it was to get settled down somewhere for the first time in my life. I had a great time with ' The only real hobby I liave is taking care of the baby and getting the place fixed up for Jimmy.
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Photoplay Magazine 35 the ThanhoUser people, but I am certainly enjoying it here. "You know, 1 was really scared to death when I came out here and had to rush into Mr. Bushman's arms in the first scene we had. But I didn't have much of a chance to remain a stranger, as we have been on a mad rush ever since. "I haven't even had a chance to answer my letters. Look at them. I Usually try to keep up, but I haven't had a chance out here and now I have had to buv that type- writer over there and I guess I'll have to dictate the answers and just sign them be- cause I never could catch up in longhand." I did manage to get her to talk shop just a minute. Marguerite Snow, with all her interest in Julie and her home, is a very wideawake young lady and knows the trend of moving pictures. "The people are getting awfully tired of pictures that just ramble along and also of stunt pictures. They like a real grip- ping story. People are gettting so familiar with pictures that it takes something really good to interest them. "You will see that the actors and act- resses who make a success in motion pic- tures are not trying to be actors and au- thors and directors all at once. You have to put all your time in at acting to be a success at it. "I think you'll also find that the people to reach the top in the pictures and stick there are the ones who got their training on the stage. Lots of actors and actresses get suddenly famous by means of some stunt they can do, but the public quickly tires of that one stunt and demands some real acting. When the camera man got on the job to take some pictures there was only one pic- ture that Mrs. Jimmy wanted badly. That was a good, close-up of the license number of her car. "Every picture I have ever seen of a mov- ing picture actress in 'her car' has had a dealer's license looming up in the fore- ground," said Mrs. Jimmy, "and I would like people to know that this car is really mine." "I'm afraid you didn't get much of an interview," she said as I started for the door and sidestepped Julie and her play- things on the floor. Perhaps I didn't, but I made the discov- ery that charming as Marguerite Snow is, Mrs. Jimmy Cruze has her left at the post. DOUBLES DO YOU resemble Mary Pickford, Clara Kimball Young, Ella Hall, Miriam Nesbitt, Edith Storey, or Marguerite Courtot ? Do you resemble ANYBODY on the screen? For every celebrated star there is, somewhere, a double. Photoplay Magazine would like to find these duplicates — these twins of fame. We would like to see just how much YOU resemble ? Our readers would like to see just how much your friend, or your sister, or your daughter, resembles well, whoever she is ? Not only the editors of Photoplay Maga- zine, but EVERYBODY, would like to see the girl who looks like Mary Pickford, or Clara Kimball Young, or Ella Hall. Send the resemblance picture to Photo- play Magazine. If you wish it returned, enclose postage. Write the name and address plainly upon the back. Next— watch for the procession of doubles ! PHOTOPLAY MAGAZINE, 350 N. Clark St., CHICAGO
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MI PERDI DA 'Btj Elwell Lawrence THE TALE OF A SONG THAT FOUND ITS OWN ECHO IN DRIFTING HEARTS Illustrations from the Vita&rapli Film TAX MORA came home from the opera very tired that night. He re- |l numbered afterwards that the air was ominously close and sultry, and that the instrument case under his arm seemed very heavy. Even for the first violin at the Neapolitan Opera House, the long Faust score had been exhausting. But with each step as he climbed the four flights to his tiny apartment his heart grew lighter, for all his world was in those three little rooms — Perdita. his wife, and Lola, their little girl. He could have played the whole night through with pride and happiness. A- usual he unlocked the door quietly. Yes, there was the candle on the table, and near it the tall glass of milk and the cov- ered plate of meat and salad. Ah. Perdita never forgot him. Could he ever be worthy of such love and care? Juan set his violin case carefully on end behind the door, removed his hat and coat with a sigh of relief, and went to the table. By the plate he saw a folded paper addressed to him in his wife's writ ing. He took it up with a little tender smile. What was it this time, he wondered. Some surprise for Lola, or a re- quest that he go nut before the shop at the corner closed, and get some- thing for break- fast ? He drank some milk and then opened the paper. "Dear Juan." From the photoplay by Jesse Datus Smith. 36 Fie-m the Photoplay ..! Jesse lMlus Smith "Mi Perdida!" she thought, and let the score fall into her lap. he read. "I can't stand this life of poverty any longer. Ducharme says 1 can still be great in opera, so I am going away to work and study as in the old days. Ducharme will give me my chance. Be good to Lola. Perdita." Alter the first moments of stunned in- credulity the man got to his feet. From room to room he went, and every step veri- fied her words. The bed by Lola's crib was untouched, the cheap wardrobe snipped bare of her clothes, the little in timate things that spoke of her presence were missing. Hack again at the table with its un- touched food, the note dropped from his nerveless fingers, and he groped bis way half blindly to a chair by the window. After all. then, what he had sometimes feared was true. She had been unhappy and discontented. She had regretted the career she had given up to marry him. He buried his head in his arms. Then he looked up. his gentle, sensitive face twisted as he remembered Du- charme. T hat man again, with h i s p o w e r. wealth and posi- tion as director at the Neapoli- tan.' W on 1 d their rivalry never cease? Juan recalled with sudden viv- idness how, seven years before, Per- dita. a remark- ably gifted girl in the opera chorus had re- fused Ducharme
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Mi Perdida 37 " My dear," said Ducharme, when the last echo had died away in the empty opera house, "yours is a voice in a thousand." and the career he offered to marry him, Juan, for love. He had realized then the artistic sacri- fice she was making, but he had divined also a still greater one — her relinquishment of the gay and luxurious side of opera life, a love of which seemed inherent in her tastes and blood. He had long feared her hatred of poverty, and now he saw that his fear had been justified. It was that pri- marily which had driven her away. Sitting there with bowed head, crushed, overwhelmed, he did not blame her. He had tried hard and failed, and he felt that to keep Perdita beating her life out here was like imprisoning a butterfly in a ware- house. That her departure implied any relation- ship with Ducharme he did not even con- sider. He simply knew that Ducharme had stirred her latent ambition with his flattery, and that maddened by the monotonous squalor of her life here she had left it for the excitement and adulation she craved. As these things grew clearer in his dull brain the door leading into the next room gently opened, and a little night-clad, bare-foot figure came in. The man's throat tightened at sight of the child. "Lola," he whispered. The little girl. was six or seven years old, dark-haired and serious-eyed, and at his call she pattered across the room to him. "Daddy, where's Mamma?" With a sudden passion of loneliness and grief he swept her to him. Her little arms went around his neck. "Mamma's gone away," he answered presently, "and now Daddy will have to be both Daddy and Mamma to you." "O-o-oh !" she said. "How funny!" "Yes," he replied, "isn't it — funnv !" Daylight brought Juan Mora the full realization of his loss, and it was a pale and distraught artist who went to rehearsal that morning. He entered the opera house by a door giving into the orchestra rest room, and found many of the members al- ready there.. The place was thick with to- bacco smoke, and noisy with the discordant tuning of instruments. Juan saw Ducharme, the director, talk- ing in one corner with Max Conrad, a little bald-headed German who conducted the second orchestra, and crossed over to him. "Is this true?" he demanded, thrusting Perdita's note before the other.
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38 Photoplay Magazine Ducharme read, pawing his spade-shaped beard. Then he burst into a sudden laugh, and tossed the paper back into Juan's face. "Yes," he said, "it's true. Your wife threw herself away for seven years, and now site's come to her senses. If we can undo the evil you've .done her, perhaps she will sing yet !" Juan drew a breaih that sounded like the hiss of a descending whip, and leaped for that leering, cruel face. He felt his fin- gers close about the hairy throat and sink deep. Then in the uproar men seized him and tore him away. When Ducharme could speak, he pointed a trembling finger at Mora. "Get out of here!" he grated, thickly, "and never come back!" And Juan with his violin under his arm, went. Inside of twelve hours love, art, work — everything he held dear had been taken from him. He faced the world broken and penniless. II "My dear," said Ducharme, when the last echo had died away in the empty opera house, "vours is a voice in a thousand. You will be great, and I shall have had the humble honor of directing you and bringing you out." He bowed deeply, al- most reverently. Perdita standing beside him on the dis- mantled stage. Hushed with pleasure. All the months of work and study had not been in vain then. Though she knew Ducharme loved her. she also knew that even he would not stake his reputation and career on a worthless singer, and that he spoke the truth. All the dreamed-of glory lay ready to her hand. And yet. her triumph brought little joy. She was not happy. Invisible ties of love and longing which she had tried in vain to throw off. bound her to the past. Little Max Conrad who had been listen- ing enraptured in the wings, rushed out to add his word of praise. "Wunderschone !" he exclaimed. "It is a superb voice, superb !*' "If only we had an opera — a new opera, worthy of you!" said Ducharme. "Ah. what a debut that would be ! And then" — he stepped close to her, his little eyes glittering — "perhaps! Ah, Perdita. I have waited so long!" She drew away from him with suddenly "We will give our opera, little mother, " he said. "I shall be the orchestra and you the prima donna. '
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Mi Perdida 39 accentuated disgust, and he, seeing he had struck a wrong note, shrugged and sum- moned a smile. He would wait. . . . Late that afternoon Juan Mora left the restaurant where he had finally found work playing in the orchestra, and started home- ward. At the first corner someone called him by name, and he turned to see Max Conrad. It was his first encounter with any associate in his former life, and he hesitated. But he bore no malice against the little German and stopped. "What are you doing now?" Conrad asked, as they walked along. He was quick to observe that Juan was pale and tired-looking, and that his clothes were shabby. The musician's eyes lighted with a new fire. "Come with me." he said, "I will show you." He led the way to a tenement in the poorest quarter of the city, and up the stairs to a single room in the rear. (Long since, he had given up the little apart- ment.) This place was neat with the piti- ful, bare neatness of poverty, and Lola, who kept it so. met him at the door. Juan, trembling with a strange eager- ness, went to the table and gathering up a sheaf of manuscript music, set it on the music stand. Then taking his violin from his case, he began to play. "That's what I have done," he said when he had finished, "It is my opera." He was silent a moment, and then added simply: "You know the tragedy of my life. I've told it there. If I hadn't had that, I would have killed myself." Conrad who knew good music when lie heard it, drew a long breath of admiration even as a daring thought leaped to his nimble brain. "It is beautiful, splendid!" he said, en- thusiastically. "It will make you famous. What have you called it?" "Mi Perdida, my lost one," said Juan, softly. An hour later Conrad was closeted with Ducharme. "You've wanted an opera and I've found it," he said exultantly, and told of his meeting with Mora. The director's face darkened for a mo- ment, and then its expression changed to one of craft. "If I could launch Perdita with an 'opera I had written myself," he thought, "she couldn't refuse me." Then he leaned close to Conrad. "If you can get me the manuscript of that work with- out Mora's knowing it, I'll have you ap- pointed assistant director at the opera house," he said. The little German gasped. Assistant di- rector ! It was more than he had ever dreamed. The dazzle of the bribe blinded him. "Gott !" he grunted. "I'll do it !" That evening there was a great celebra- tion in the little rear room ever so many flights up. There was meat for supper, the first in a fortnight, and after that a trolley ride, and last of all. ice cream at the ' corner shop which Lola courageously .passed every day with averted eyes. They came home tired and happy, hut Juan, excited by Conrad's praise to new- hope, could not sleep. "Bring me the music, little mother," he cried, gayly, unlocking his violin case, "and we will give our opera. I shall be the or- chestra and you the prima donna." Lola ran to the accustomed drawer, but the music was not there. She thought she had mislaid it and ran to the table. Juan, eager to begin, joined the search. From place to place, with ever-increasing con- cern, they went. Swiftly concern gave place to fear, and fear at last to the con- viction of overwhelming disaster. The opera was gone! Lola commenced to cry, but Juan stood dazedly leaning against the old deal dresser. Then suddenly the violin dropped from his fingers, his hands went to his temples, and he sank gently to the floor. Sometime later one of Ducharme's clerks brought Perdita a package. Opening it in her furnished room she found it to be the score of a new opera he had been prom- ising her. The title page read : MI PERDIDA AN OPERA IN THREE ACTS BY HENRI DUCHARME. "Mi Perdida!" she thought, and let the score fall into her lap. The tragedy • of those two words awoke in her suddenly all the deep and poignant memories she had denied so long. The' viston of Juan, patient, tender, and happy, even through
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40 Photoplay Magazine The director, faced at last with his theft, turned on Conrad and charged him with the theft. their dire poverty rose before her. Once again she heard Lola's voice and experi- enced that last childish embrace. And a great desire for them both swept over her. Blinded with her tears she rose, and with a new resolution, went out. Her way took her to the building where the first tiny apartment hail been, but she found it cob- webbed with the dirt of long vacancy, and the janitrcss whom she sought, could only shrug at her frantic inquiries. "Where have they gone?'' she said. "Who knows? They may both be dead by this time." Ill When they discharged Juan Mora from the hospital after the brain fever that al- most cost him his life, his first act was to get Lola from the institution where she had been sent, and to try and make a little home for them somewhere. But he was not now even the Juan Mora of the restaurant orchestras. His violin had been broken by its fall on that fatal night, and he had no money to buy another. For a while he could get nothing to do. and starvation stared them in the face. Then, made desperate by the thought of Lola's innocent misery, he stole a loaf of bread from the open kitchen door of a big restaurant. Retribution followed swift and sure from the cursing scullions, but when the big. white-aproned cook had heard Juan's wretched storv. he sent away the policeman that one of the men had called. "You Juan Mora of the opera?" he said. "I have heard you play and sat spell- bound." Then he laughed hugely. "After all. we are fellow artists. You play on men's hearts. I on their stomachs. I will give you work." So Juan became a waiter in the big restaurant. There are some natures to whom adver- sity brings only resentment and bitterness ; others which feel subconsciously that the dark valleys must eventually yield to the radiant summits. Juan's was one of these. He was grateful for the work he had. and for the fact that he and Lola were fighting on together again. Life was black, but he had an abiding faith that it was never meant to be and couldn't remain so forever. Then one night when the restaurant was
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Mi Perdida 41 crowded with diners, the thing happened. The orchestra slipped suddenly into an ex- quisite, yearning melody that caught every- one's attention. Juan was on his way to the kitchen with a tray of dishes when he heard it first, and he stopped as if he had been shot. His face flushed hotly. On the music went, from one lovely strain to another, and Juan Mora, standing there white and "trembling, knew that he was listening to the overture of "Mi Per- dida," his opera. ' Setting down his tray he edged .towards the orchestra platform, and looked"" at the music sheets on the stands. "Mi Perdida by Henri Ducharme," he read, and with the deadly chill that crept over him came the first faint suspicion of the truth. "Yes," the violinist told him good-na- turedly when they had finished the selec- tion, "it's the new piece at the Neapolitan. Tremendous hit, too." The Neapolitan! How Juan finished his work and got through the next day of waiting he never knew, but an hour before the performance commenced the next night he and Lola were in the front row seats he had bought with his meagre savings, listen- ing to his own divine melody. In the merciful darkness Juan Mora wept. Then the curtain rose slowly and re- vealed the scene of his first act. The ac- tion took place between the second leads with a chorus support, and prepared for the dramatic entrance of the prima donna. Juan sat tense, gripping the arms of his chair as the moment approached. Suddenly the spot light fell upon the rear centre, two curtains were drawn back and the prima donna stood there, her voice flooding the great auditorium with the sustained high note that marked her appearance. For a moment Juan stared at the singer stupidly. Then the blinding truth rushed over him. It was Perdita, singing his own opera, Perdita, at last! He could not think. He sat as if turned to stone. Then his faculties returned and his tumultuous emotions overwhelmed him. Forgetful of his surroundings he sprang up, calling her name with a great cry of gladness. Perdita, who had come down stage, heard him and stopped suddenly. A tense instant and the light of recognition broke over her face and she went deathly pale. The next, recovering herself, she rushed from the stage. The opera house was in an uproar. Ushers hurried down the aisles, the musi- cians rose in their places, and the lights went up suddenly. A moment later Per- dita, sobbing wildly, came through the stage door to a box, and then into the body of the house and towards Juan. Lola, seeing her first, ran towards her with a shrill cry, and the prima donna gathered the child in a fierce embrace. A moment later she and Juan had met, and oblivious of all about them, had spanned the gulf of all their misunderstanding. There was no performance of "Mi Perdida" that night. Then began Perdida's effort to establish Juan's title to authorship of the great opera. One day, opening a table drawer, she came upon a litter of paper scraps, evident- ly cut with scissors from sheets of music manuscript. Fitting some of the pieces to- gether, she gradually reconstructed the title-page of the original score from which Juan had copied his completed opera, and questioning him, found that he had given the discarded sheets to Lola to make into paper dolls. With this and other reconstructed pages she went to the Board of Managers of the Opera Company, and laid the whole story before them. Ducharme and Conrad were called before the Hoard and accused. The director, faced at last with his act, turned on Conrad and charged him with the theft. The little Oerman, as anxious as Ducharme to save himself, narrated the conversation in the director's office, which proved Ducharme to have been the insti- gator of the deed. Ready to fly at one another's throats, the two, by charge and counter-charge revealed the whole plot. They were summarily dismissed from their posts and Juan at once made director of the company. The news of the scandal spread like wildfire and when Mora, vindicated at last, came next morning to take charge of the great house from which he had once been dismissed in disgrace, he received an ovation. But while this triumph was sweet, far sweeter to Juan was the knowledge that through all he had lost, he and Perdita had finally found themselves and each other.
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Realms Billie Burke receives from monarch-maker Tom Ince, in great state, the contract - scepter of photoplay regality. This queen of the theatre will annex her new — and broader — dominion before the cameras at Santa Monica. 42
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SOLD Bij George Vaux Bacon AN AVERTED TRAGEDY OF MIS- UNDERSTOOD DEVOTION IN THE NEW WORLD'S QUARTIER LATIN Illustrations by Famous Players Company ABRAHAM DOLBEARE was not a pretty man. He was fat, and his neck was thick and protruded over his collar at the back in a great roll of glistening fat skin covered with oily black curly hair. He was crafty, like his twinkling black eyes, and his lips were thick and avaricious. But to sell him a picture was equivalent to being crowned with eternally undimming laurel by the Goddess of Fame herself. He was a picture broker ; one of the greatest in New York. His shop was a marble palace on the Avenue in the Fifties. Unto him came the parvenu, the nouveau Tiche, the connoisseur and the patron, each to be cheated, patronized or served accord- ing to Dolbeare's shrewd judgment of how much or how little his customer knew. One Sunday in June, on a morning as lovely, as a perfect sapphire. Abraham stepped from the side street off the Ave- nue on' which he lived in a house with a . modest brownstone front; but possessed of^an interior the oriental gorgeousness of which soothed his inherited Asiatic taste for color. - Upon reaching the Avenue, he walked southward slowly, enjoying to the fullest the.oddlychaste voluptuousness of a street -"'along -the •'pavements of : which walk more" charmingly beautiful and exquisitely dressVd women" than upon any other street in the world. -" ": Berlin is a spick and span Prussian offi- cer; Paris.- V scented dandy ;: London, a side whiskered -British tradesman with port-' empurpled face and respectable pomposity : NTew York, a' wonderful.' lithe girl: beau- tiful of face, figure and fabric. '- And Abraham loved beauty: the beauty of pictures because it brought him wealth." ■ the beauty of women because it brought him joy. Therefore, when he had walked four blocks and was opposite the cathedral, and saw Donald Bryant, the young "art for art's sake" idealist, whom he respected — {Photoplay adapted from the Russian of George Erastov by and laughed at — (when he thought of him) approaching arm in arm with a woman the beauty of whom struck him full across the eyes like the slap of a scented glove, he paused, raised his hat. He bowed pro- foundly to the woman. "This is Mr. Dolbeare, the great art dealer, dear," said Donald, introducing. Helen Bryant smiled. It was a wonder- ful, infectious smile of the kind that one man and woman in ten thousand possesses. "You have not yet sold me a painting, have you, young man?" he asked. "Not yet," replied Donald; "but when I do — the world will be at your door !" For a second the art dealer paused. In that second his eyes took in the full sweep of Helen's beauty, scarcely concealed by the light dress she wore. In that second his practiced eye told him that not even Praxiteles could have designed the perfec- tion of her lx)dy. "You are a, great painter, Donald," lie said, "but you have been unwise. .You paint for tomorrow, and wish to live today. It is not possible. You must give "the world what it wants, and the world wants beauty — above' all. the matchless beautv of woman. God's living masterpiece; not ideas, brilliant as they may bej brilliantly as you may express them in color ! 'Behold, you have Helen of Troy for a wife".-" and you send me paintings of shadows!" "What do you mean ?" The art dealer tapped the pavement with his gold -headed cane and put his hat. back on his head. "Tut! If I should meet Phidias walk- ing with Electra. or Pygmalion with Gala- tea, and he should ask. 'Do you know where I can find a good model?' 'Would I send him to an agency? I have met you strolling along the Avenue with your mas- terpiece !" He bowed, smiling and went on. "He is a strange one!" remarked Helen, laughing. "Hideous old brute!" answered Donald. Herman Bernstein.) 43
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44 Photoplay Magazine 'Don't you suppose her husband would allow her to pose? ' The next day lie received a letter from the dealer. It was brief : "Dear Mr. Bryant : "For a nude of Madame, your wife, in the manner of which I well know • you are capable, I will give you five thousand dollars. I should appreciate a reply. Sincerely, "Abraham Dolbeare." Helen had been criticizing gently and with wonderful understanding a work he was just finishing. He handed her the letter. "I will pose for you," she said. "It is impossible, Helen," he said, slowly. The thought of the woman he loved more than life — whom he had loved so much that he had sacrificed her as well as himself to his unquestioning devotion to art — being the object of the admiring glance of con- noisseur roues in an art gallery was like a physical pang to him. "Donald," she said quietly. "If, as you have always said and I have always dreamed, the creation of a beautiful thing is divine, then truly, it is a compliment to me, and not a dishonor, if you paint me beautifully. In a few more months this struggle will begin to beat your spirit down. Take this opportunity ! Go to Dolbeare. Tell him I will pose." Though she realized the tremendous com- pliment the art dealer had paid her in praising her — for from him, praise of a woman's beauty was as praise coming from one whose daily bread was earned through his understanding of loveliness — there was not a hint of conceit in Helen. Her mind was worthy of her body. Donald hesitated. They argued for a while in the pitifully bare little studio : but eventually he removed his painter's smock, put on his coat and last season's straw, and went to Dolbeare's palatial shop. In ten minutes the deal was closed — and he was given an advance fee of one thou- sand dollars to bind the bargain. No one
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Sold 45 knows the value of money till he has starved for the want of it. Donald's head spun like a boy's top. He went to Dol- heare's hank and cashed it, and bringing the beautiful saffron bills to the studio, presented them as a token to Helen. The next morning, he made his first sketches for the painting. Try as lie could to remind himself of the .unpleasant fact that he was about to paint a picture which would exhibit the naked grace of his wife before thousands, the grace and beauty of her was such that he lost all thought of her as a woman, as his wife, even as a living being, in the sheer appreciation of her love- liness. Day after day passed in a succession of hours of light in which they labored (for posing is no light task) and hours of dark- ness in which they rested. They lived on the advance which Dolbeare shrewdly knew was necessary for Donald to put his best and undivided efforts into the work. At last the day came when it was fin- ished. Donald was exhausted, as was Helen, too. The hours had been long, and the moments of rest few ; but both she and her husband knew that the finished work was a masterpiece. It was a bit of art as indescribable in words as words are inde- scribable when they reach a certain pitch of beauty in expression. Dolbeare was notified, and appeared, in the course of the afternoon, to view the work. Helen was busy about the studio. Don- ald was moodily sketching a "pot-boiler." The master canvas, almost the height of a man, stood on its easel in the center of the studio, covered witli a linen cloth while the colors dried. Donald removed the cloth, and the art dealer, adjusting his binocle, gazed at it in silence. "It is wonderful I" he breathed. " — such chastity — yet such voluptuousness ; such Bob's love, which had never died, drove his hand to surpass anything that he had ever done.
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46 Photoplay Magazine At last l/ie day came when it was finished. virginal eyes, and yet such passion ! The thing will drive men mad ! There is a for- tune in that painting !" He heard a growl beside him, and turned to find Donald glaring at him with eyes red-rimmed — like an animal's. "So that is what men will say of her, is it !" he choked, and before either Dolbeare or Helen could slop him, seize a heavy brush full of black, and with a cry like an injured child, inked the marvelous canvas from top to bottom ! Dolbeare turned purple. "You fool!" he gasped. "What have you done!" "You saw !" growled Donald, throwing the brush on the floor. Helen stood like a statue, looking from one to the other. "You are mad," said Dolbeare con- temptuously. "You will return the thou- sand dollars to me— or else paint another portrait of the same subject. (Jood day!" He turned on his heel ami went out. When he had gone, Donald flung himself on the couch in a corner of the studio and buried his face in the pillows. When Helen tried to comfort him he shook her off like a petulant child. She went to the beautiful canvas and covered it gently again with the linen cloth. If Donald Bryant and Robert Wainwright had been chums when they were students together in Paris. They had both loved the same beautiful girl : Donald had mar- ried her — Donald, whom the wiseacres claimed was the coming master — and then the parting of the ways had come. Wain- wright remained in Paris for a while, and Donald returned to America with his lovely young wife to reap the harvest of renown
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Sold 47 his early work had promised. The renown had never come, for he would not do what the public wanted done, and his paintings were unfailingly praised — and unsold. Robert, after a few months longer in Paris, returned to America ; but went West, and there painted wonderful, dramatic and popular pictures of Indians and cowboys and buffalo hunts of bygone days. His pictures sold like hot cakes and he became almost wealthy. One day he returned to New York and went to see Dolbeare. He found the usually urbane tradesman in a condition of mind bordering on deli- rium. "What on earth is the matter?" asked the painter. Dolbeare waved his arms frantically. "An artist — (lott! It is always an artist ! Now one has gone mad and ruined a painting worth at least ten thousand dol- lars before my very eyes — lief ore the eyes of me, who had ordered it and who had just pronounced it a masterpiece." Robert asked him for Donald's address. Dolbeare gave it to him with a gasp and rushed away into the rear recesses of his palatial shop. Robert, half amused and half nettled by his manner, left the shop and went to Don- ald's studio. He found Donald alone, busy over a sketch for an advertisement declaiming the merits of a new motor. "What, commercial work !" he de- manded, opening the door. Donald leaped from his chair. "Bob !" he cried, and the two shook hands joyfully. The contrast was striking. Bob was dressed as only money can dress a man. Although Donald had inherent good taste, it could not hide his poverty. They talked over old times for an after- noon that quickly fled into evening. Helen, who had gone out with a painting, came in. Both rose to greet her, Bob with that deep tremor in the heart which only he knows who has loved deeply and meets after a. long absence, her who has been always the incarnation of womanhood in his soul. If she had only married him! Before either could stop him, Donald had daubed the marvelous canvas from top to bottom.
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48 Photoplay Magazine She would have had everything that a woman can desire. He puttered around among a stack of Donald's sketches. Eventually, he pulled out a study in charcoal. Singularly enough, there was no head to it. It was a female torso; but one of such beauty, of such perfect proportion, that all the artist in Bob rose to a pitch of appreciation that his commercialization had not blunted. Helen was busying herself at the kitchen- ette getting something to eat for the two. "Donald," said Bob, "who was the model for this sketch ? She is a second Venus de Milo. If you'll tell me* who she is I'll give you a royal commission for it and pay her the best salary she ever received." "Too bad. She has given up posing and married," said Donald shortly. Helen, hearing him, turned and opened her mouth as though to speak ; but changed her mind and went on with her work. Something in Donald's tone struck Bob as peculiar. "How long has she been married?" he asked casually. "( )h, only a couple of weeks," replied Donald carelessly. "Don't you suppose her husband would allow her to pose — ?" "I'm sure he wouldn't. I tried, and he refused." Bob whistled disappointedly. Dolbeare. who had dropped in for a mo- ment, laughed sardonically, but said noth- ing. The following morning Donald received a letter from Dolbeare in which the dealer threatened immediate legal action unless the one thousand dollars were immediately returned or a new picture of Helen begun at once. Donald answered the letter by stating simply that he had spent the money and would repay it as soon as possible ; but that he would not expose his wife to the gaze of the multitude. Two days later a constable appeared and seized everything hi the studio except Don- ald's painting materials. Only the law which prevents a creditor from seizing a workman's tools for debt restrained him from that. Helen was broken-hearted. It seemed that all the devotion, faith and sacrifice that she had given Donald had finally turned to the dust and ashes of defeat. For hours she sat alone in the studio, brooding, while Donald was down town trying vainly to sell some of the "master- pieces" none of the dealers would buy. Presently, she rose, put on her hat and went out. Donald would not be back for several hours, she knew. He always spent the whole afternoon on his fruitless selling expeditions. Within half an hour, she was at Bob Wainwright's studio. It was on the second story of a famous studio building in Sixtv- Sixth Street near Central Park West. She went up in the elevator, walked into the dusk of the hall, and for a moment hesi- tated before pressing the bell that would admit her. To what was she going? she thought. Bob had promised a large sum for the model who was the original of the draw- ings he had seen in Donald's studio. He would undoubtedly pay the money. Oh ves. But she knew the temperament of such as he ; she knew that he loved her. hopelessly, and, for all she knew, desperately. She shuddered slightly and rang the bell. YVainwright himself, dressed in painting smock and velvet cap, with a bulldog pipe in his mouth, opened the door. "Helen !" he said slowly. "Bob," said Helen, "I am going to ask you to be very good to me — I am going to ask a good deal, I know." "Yes — " he nearly whispered, "What is it?" She entered the studio. . "Some days ago," she continued, "you said that you would be willing to give a large sum to know who the original of the sketches in Donald's portfolio is. Didn't you?" "Yes," he admitted. He indicated an in- viting morris chair before a bank of palms. The studio was furnished gorgeously. He perched himself on the edge of the model's throne. "I have come to sell you the services of the model," went on Helen. "How much will you pay?" . "I will pay you a thousand dollars for. introducing her and I'll pay the model three times her usual fees," said Bob promptly. Helen quietly removed her hat and laid it on her lap. "Agreed," she said. "Do you wish me to pose today?"
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Sold 49 Bob was a big man, with heavy brows, and a dark, tanned face. He looked at ber for a full minute without speaking, then said quietly. "Vrou mean that you were the model — and that vou have come to pose for me?" "Yes— Oh, Hob. Donald and I are des- perately in need of money. He would be beside himself if he knew ; but I thought I could come and pose without him know- ing, and so help him in spite of himself !" "There is no reason why you shouldn't," said Bob, "and I give you my word of honor, Helen, that you will not regret it — and that the work that will result will be worthy of you — and of me !" But when Helen had removed her gar- ments, and sat on the model's throne in all her dazzlingly beautiful perfection Bob's love, which had never died, drove his hand to work that surpassed anything that he had ever done. With the thousand dollars which Boh immediately paid her, Helen got rid of Dolbeare. going to his office with it, and begging him to take it back and not to force Donald to do the other pictures against his will. Dolbeare was polite- ness itself, and promised : but in all his life he had not been so infuriated as he had by Donald's destruction of the picture he had coveted. He took the thousand Dolbeare took the thousand from Helen, wondering where she got it. from Helen, wondering where she got it, thanked her effusively, promised that there was an end to the matter — and with Semitic patience proceeded to await an opportunity to- make Donald suffer. When the furniture was returned, Helen explained Dolbeare's generosity by telling Donald that the dealer had relented and was willing to await payment of the thou- sand dollars without security. Dolbeare suspected that something was going on. The source of the thousand dol- lars seemed worth discovering. To explain her absences when she was posing, Helen told Donald that she had gotten a position as an art teacher. As the days went by, the new painting of Helen grew to a thing of beauty sur- passing even that of Donald's: but with each succeeding day. Bob's passion for his model grew also, until, one day, it passed the bounds of human endurance. He dropped his brushes and bade her retire and dress. When she returned from the model's room, she found him staring at her with hungry eyes. He reached into his pocket to give her her pay for the day's work immediately, as is the custom ; but instead suddenly took her in his arms, crushed her to him, and
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50 Photoplay Magazine pressed on her lips kisses of such over- whelming passion, that she nearly fainted in his arms beneath them. With a struggle she released herself and shrank away from him. "I couldn't help it, Helen. It's more than flesh and blood can stand. 1 love you —God, how I love you !" he said hoarsely. He was trembling from head to foot. "Bob," said Helen, "I know. And I understand : but it cannot be. It is the same now as always. You are a friend, and so I forgive without even being asked for forgiveness; but I love Donald — Oh, so much. I cannot help it, can I ? Won't you let me come and pose for you? If you do this, of course I cannot." "I swear that it will not occur again," said Bob. The lines in his face deepened as he spoke. Bob kept his word. She posed twice again without a repetition of the scene. Dolbeare, by methods of his own, dis- covered one day, to his unholy delight, the source of the thousand dollars. That same afternoon, with his usual dignity, he appeared in Donald's studio. Donald had been getting a number of commercial orders, which kept the wolf from the door when he worked on his clas- sic subjects. He was doing one of these — a lady posing with a removable electric motor for row-boats — when the art dealer, top-hatted, with his gold cane and Prince Albert coat, entered the studio. "Hello. Dolbeare," said Donald shortly. "Aha, Mr. Bryant. Working in the un- holy cause of commerce, eh?" said Dol- beare. "One must live," snapped Donald shortly. "True. Very true," replied Dolbeare musingly. "Where is Madame?" "She lias an art class." "An art class? Women are so thrifty! They will drive us men out of business presently. Tell me ; where is her class?" "I don't know." Donald stopped his work and turned around on his chair towards the Jew. "What do you want, any- how? More masterpieces to 'drive men mad?'" "I must apologize for my errand, I con- fess," said Dolbeare suavely : "but I have come to tell you that Madame is not con- ducting an art class." "What are you up to now ?" "A woman of such beauty as your wife cannot go her way through the world with- out attracting attention. Such beauty, like that of a marble Rodin, or a Whistler noc- turne, demands a certain tribute of all men. 1 come paying that tribute. Madame is posing in the nude for Robert Wain- wright." A more vengeful man than Dolbeare would have received more than satisfaction for every insult in the expression that came over Donald's face. He turned as white as chalk and his lips were like two threads of crimson. His eyes were shot with pain as though he had been stabbed. He leaped to his feet. "You — !" he began furiously. "I beg of you." said Dolbeare pomp- ously, retiring with his gold headed cane in front of him. "You have misjudged my good intentions before. Do not do so this time. Be calm, and make a careful, prudent inquiry into the matter." He turned on his heel and left, his soul seething with alkaline joy. Donald literally threw on his hat and coat, rushed out of the studio and made his way to Bob Wainwright's. He got out of the elevator and banged furiously at the studio door without wait- ing to look for the bell. When Bob answered, he was hurled backward ; but seeing Donald, and imme- diately surmising what was in the wind, pretended to be furiously angry and seized his visitor by the arm. "What is the matter with you?" he cried, and shook him so lustily that Donald tried to punch him in rage and shouted at the top of his lungs. "My wife is here, damn vou! Where is she?" Which was exactly what Bob wanted him to do. Helen, from the model's throne, which was invisible from the door, heard her husband's voice from where she stood, and rushed in a panic to the model's room to dress. She was none too soon. Donald broke away with a volley of curses and burst into the studio.' No one was there — nothing but a portrait of a nude woman, a full length canvas of a beauty that, if Don- ald had been in his normal senses suffi- ciently to have noticed, he could scarcely have believed to have been the commercial- minded Bob's. "Well !" demanded Bob.
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Sold 51 "She is here somewhere I" repeated Donald wildly. ''Nothing of the sort. You seem to be out of your mind." "Dolbeare told me she was !" "Dolbeare!" Bob cursed the dealer roundly under his. breath. At that moment, to Bob's horror, the heavy velvet curtains that hung before the model's dressing room opened, and Helen fully dressed and deathly pale, a marvelous study against the dead black of the hangings, stepped partially into the room. Donald was standing beside a heavy teak-wood table in the center of the room. Upon it. lay a silver-mounted duelling pistol. Without a sound, he reached for it. clutched it in his hand, and wheeled toward Bob, who promptly started to run around the room. Donald was blind to everything except the object of his insane jealousy. For a second, Bob was still. In that second, Donald raised the pistol, which, for some reason of his own. Bob had always kept loaded and primed. With a terrific report and flash from the pan, the antique weapon went off. Bob had ducked involuntarily ! At the moment Donald had fired, Helen had rushed towards him and was directly behind Bob. The slug struck her fairly. She reeled, turned slowly half around with her arms toward Donald, and crumpled in a heap on the floor. Donald hurled himself upon her in agony. Bob. the practical, rushed to the telephone, called a surgeon, and then, pull- ing Donald from her and hurling him with the strength of a Goliath into a corner of the room, tore away her clothes revealing a gaping, bubbling wound in her shoulder. from which the crimson blood poured over her white breast. Within ten minutes, the surgeon whom Bob had called arrived, bandaged the wound, and pronounced Helen, though a little weak from loss of blood, to be in small danger. The men laid her in silence on a divan. When she recovered, she reached for Donald, took his head in her hands, with an effort, raised her head and kissed him. He buried his face on the couch beside her and sobbed like a child. "It was only for you, Dearest," she whispered. "Everything was only for you. Don't you see?" And from that time on, Donald did see. He no longer sacrificed his wife to his dreams ; but sacrificed his fruitless dreams for a love that was greater than art — that had been greater even than his own lack of belief. As for Bob, he was even more of a friend to the two. after that, than ever, and satisfied himself hugely, one day, by walking into Dolbeare's palatial shop and giving the art dealer a severe drubbing with his cane — and then sold him three pictures. He gave Donald his beautiful picture of Helen. Six weeks later, Donald invited Bob to an exhibit. In it, he showed him a picture that Bob had not seen. It was a portrait of Bob himself — a masterpiece of portrait- ure— and beneath it was a mfat white card with the interesting legend, "SOLD." "Dolbeare bought it — for five thousand dollars !" said Donald. They both laughed and went to the Cafe des Beaux-Arts for a bit of Louis' grape-fruit cordial. Have You a Friend to whom you would like to introduce Photoplay Maga- zine? A specimen copy will be sent to any address in the United States, on application by card or letter to PHOTOPLAY MAGAZINE, 350 North Clark St., Chicago, 111.
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Hart of the Plains CHRONICLE OF A QUIET GEN- TLEMAN WHO ACTS NOTH- ING THAT HE HASN'T LIVED By George DeSalto HAVING enjoyed the personal ac- quaintance, yea friendship of a number of so-called Western "Bad Men," I could never tolerate the virtuous, also mythical chap, who comes out from the East and rids Dead Man's Gulch of its baddest bad men via the trig- ger route, narrowly escapes lynching, and finally winds up in a until death-do-us-part clinch with the lovely blonde heroine. That's the "Western stuff" of the first period of the photoplay. It was no wonder that there was a terrible falling off in the pop- ularity of the wild aw woolly drama about the time that the scenario writers had gotten a good start in their incursions into the all but forgotten dime novel era. A public satiated with pseudo- Western "stuff" turned with relief to the crook plays am the vampire women. Hut the Western play is making a real "come back." Not the Diamond Dick brand, but dramas more truly typical of actual frontier life. Probably no one is more responsible for the reviving popularity of the western drama than William S. Hart, who in the face of a decline in the demand for that type of screen production, lias per- sistently "stayed 52 Hart is one of the greatest Western char- acters in the business, be- cause he is of the West, Western. with it." And as a result the cowboy camps of the other studios are again show- ing signs of activity and script writers are looking for good "western stuff" with search warrants. Hart is one of the greatest Western characters in the business, because he is of the West. Western. He knows his West like O. Henry knew his East Side. He knew the "bad men" as they were, not as the Ho- b o k e n litterateurs painted them ; the In- dians as human beings rather than bloodthirsty animals, and all the rest of the West as it actually was in the days before the frontier succumbed to the wet waters of the Pacific or the dry laws of legisla- tures. Only the man who has lived those days can enact them to the satisfac- tion of the West of to- da y a n d that is the real test of "Western stuff." Aided by his general physical en- semble, a stalwart fig- u re and a face of rug- ged charac- ter, together with a ce- lerity of ac-
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Hart of the Plains 53 tion and a mobility of features, "Bill" Hart lias proved up as one of the greatest Western heroes of the screen, as he was of "the legitimate stage, whether as an outlaw or as a hero of the conventional type. "The Bargain," the first big Western play in which he ■ starred, is regarded as one of the greatest of the kind ever filmed. "On the Night Stage,"- which followed it, and in which Robert Edeson appeared as a co-star, shares its popularity, and both productions are credited with aiding largely in the revival of Western screen drama. Hart is an enthusiast on the subject of the West. He is a firm believer in the staying power of the Western drama. "I can only see it one way," he told me. "The Western drama will never die. It may languish at times; it may give way to the temporary popularity of other sorts of plays, but it will never vanish either from the legitimate stage or the screen. "The West has given America its only real romantic period which reached its zenith in the eighties and early nineties when the frontier was making its last stand. That was an era of action, romance and red blood and in my opinion it has given America its greatest drama. It will live in literature and the drama because of its red blood, for the red corpuscle appeals to the anemic just as it does to the normal person, perhaps even more so, for very hu- man reasons." \ It might be stated parenthetically that as a purveyor of the red corpuscle. Hart is some purveyor. He is a big two-fisted fel- low, standing six-one in his bootless feet, an expert horseman, shot aiid roper and is ever willing to take a big" chance to put over a real thrill. He is- in no sense a "moving picture cowboy" for he was an actor of recognized abilitv long before the clicking camera was dreamed of. Before letting him tell about how he became an actor a brief glance' at his early life is due the reader. Born in Newburg, N. Y., of English parentage, he was taken to the plains of Dakota before he was old enough to say "goo," which is some young. His father was a college man and while his education did not suffer, he did' not see a city until he was fifteen. Like- wise he attained his first pair of shoes at that age at Minneapolis, en route back to New York. Not that he went barefoot. But moccasins were the common footwear of the plains during that period. Passing through the impressionable age of youth on the then wild and woolly plains, hobnob- bing with Indians to whom the warpath was yet a frequent diversion and the rough and ready frotiersmen of those days, the spirit of the West was indelibly stamped on him. and even the subsequent years in the effete East could not eradicate the dom- inant traces. "My first ambition was to go back to the West as a soldier," said Hart, "not as a $13-a-month trooper, but as an officer. I took the examination for West Point and passed an almost perfect physical examina- tion. I just got by in the other exam- inations, but in those days it required a long political pull to attain 'The Point,' and my father did not have it. "My next ambition was to go to Aus- tralia, and I had arranged to leave New York on a windjammer. But my father blocked that also. "Then I decided to be an actor, but New York did not show any indication of over- whelming joy at my decision. I had ac- quired a number of valuable prizes for athletic prowess and I sold them, took a boat for London, and landed a job carry- ing a spear. I was only eighteen when I returned to New York, but I considered myself a real actor. I convinced a manager of that fact and was given a job playing bits, on the road. The manager was also a tragedian, a German tragedian, who had played everything that any other actor had ever played. "My advancement was rapid. In a few weeks I was doubling as the king and the ghost in Hamlet and playing leads. The 'old man' raised my salary regularly. He would say, 'Yilliam, how much are you gedding now?' I would say, 'Sixteen a week.' Then he would say, 'Hereafter your salary shall, be eighteen tollars a week.' At the end of the season my salary had mounted to $35 a week, but the funny thing about my financial advancement was that I never drew more than the original twelve a week." At the age of twenty-four, young Hart was supporting Modjeska on Broadway, and at twenty-seven he was playing leads to Julia Arthur. It was his success in "The Squaw Man," and later in "The Virgin- ian," in which he played the title part* for two years continuously, that gave Hart his
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54 Photoplay Magazine He is a big, two-fisted fellow, standing, six-one chance, to put reputation as a delineator of Western character and which led to his ac- quisition for western screen dramas by Thomas H. Ince, director general of the New York Motion Picture concern, a year ago. His first two film plays did not feature him. He was afraid of himself and used an assumed name. Then came "The Bargain" and he knew that he had "delivered." Hart's private life is a quiet one. His constant compan- ion when out of the studio is his sister, who for fifteen years "held the book" for him in all his stage studies. "Mayme lost her job when I went into the pictures," said Hart rather rue fully, "and she finds it rather difficult to in his bootless feet, and is ever ready to take a big over a real thrill. become reconciled to my desertion of the stage, but some day we will go back to my farm on Long Island Sound and try our liest to live the simple life." One of the secrets of Hart's wonderful screen success is the char- acter of the man Hart has a face , ■ ir tt of rugged char- himself. He IS es- acter, capable SCntiallv and potell- ^ of great ■ J mobility, tially male. Personally I like him as a Western hero because he does not wear fuzzy chaps. And it takes character to resist the swashbuckling ' appeal of fuzzy chaps, especially when the public is enamored of the "hero beautiful."
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THE IMPOSTOR By Garry Bournemouth HOW HAPPINESS CAME IN A CLOAK OF FALSEHOOD illustrations from the World Film w ELL, Tearer, old girl, your dream's come true. You're going to see nobility at last. He's a real baronet, and he's coming here to see me." The man. dressed in dirty dungarees and rough shirt, glanced whimsically about the mean room where he stood. It was one of two the hut contained, and was small, bare and unplastered. with crude and scanty fur- niture. Through its open windows could he seen the wild, rocky beauty of the Welsh coast, and below, the sea with a stately white yacht riding at anchor. There was a dull murmur of surf. "Sir Anthony, your twin brother. Blink ! I can't believe it." The young woman was handsome, witli a dark, glowing, gypsy beauty. She lay indolently in a shabby chair, half wrapped in a brightly striped blanket. "You will when you see him. In the old days no one could tell us apart." The old days! It was ten years since, following a wild impulse, he had thrown aside a "gentleman's" life in London, for freedom and the open road. Herbert Greg- ston, known in every gypsy camp of Eng- land as Blink, the Tearer's husband, took a turn up and down the room, his fine head with its grizzled hair bent in thought. He was a big. stalwart man, a little past the prime of life. "Tony got a title by arriving in the world first." he added, "but I believe he's made a rum go of it. I've heard of his rows with his work people and his son. You'd think a man of his wealth and posi- tion might manage to make people happy, wouldn't you. instead of grinding them down. They say he's on this cruise now for his health after some labor trouble or other." For a moment he watched the white yacht rise anil fall on the water below. Then, in a pause, strange voices sounded close by, and the girl, throwing aside the From the photoplay of Douglas Murray. blanket, sprang up and ran to the edge of the cliff. She faced the sunset, and her pretty head and figure were suddenly thrown into sharp silhouette. Her shabby dress revealed a ripe, lithe figure. "Yes, they're coming !" she cried, return- ing ; "Gouger and Sir Anthony ; and Gouger is furious about something. I can't imagine what it is." Two men, strangely contrasted, mounted the cliff-crest and came towards the cabin. One, obviously the baronet, was dressed in tweeds, wore a monocle, and leaned heavily on his stick. The other was a gypsy, 'tall and swarthy, with silver earrings in his ears and a brilliant sash. This was Gouger. a friend, who. at Blink's request, had gone to bring the baronet to the cabin. To- gether thus, the two presented that gro- tesquerie of contrast Fate so often thrusts forward to view — one feeble of body, but influential : the other superbly molded, but otherwise a nonentity. "What did you bring me up here for, you brainless fool !" panted Sir Anthony to his companion in a fury. "My doctor warned me — " "I was told to bring you — you are here," growled Gouger in his difficult English. "Hold your tongue!" flared the other. "Remember your place ! Leave me !" After a moment the Gouger obeyed, but his face was dark with hatred as he slunk away. Then Blink appeared and the twins faced each other after their long separa- tion. And because blood is thicker than water they clasped hands across the nu- merous gulfs of position and privilege that separated them. At one side the Tearer. looking first at one and then at the other, stood amazed at their resemblance. But for their contrasting dress, as a result of the blind luck of birth, she could not have told them apart. Even their voices were alike. When he had got his breath the baronet launched upon a tirade. Times were hard. 55
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56 Photoplay Magazine "Sir Anthony your twin brother, Blink!" she exclaimed. "I can't believe it.' money was scarce, the damned labor scum was preaching anarchy, and would over- throw the Government one of these fine days. "What's the matter at the mines?" asked Blink, amused, remembering that the wealth and glory of Gregston Abbey depended on them. "Matter! (lad, everything's the matter. There's nothing the scoundrels don't want : more pay, shorter hours, safety appli- ances— " Sir Anthony's face crimsoned with fury. "The swine actually put on airs. But I've beaten 'em in the past and I'll beat 'em again !" Hlink laughed. "Tony, I wouldn't be as unhappy as you for the world! And now what's the son and heir up to? Seems to me I've heard something." "Vou have!" The other's choler in- creased. "You've heard that I've disin- herited him because he ignores my wishes. I want him to marry Lady Tagle and he refuses. 'Mary Priestly.' says he, 'or no- body.' 'All right.' says I, 'Slary Priestly and nothing." The headstrong, stubborn ass ! Let him defy me if he dares. I'll cut him off with a shilling. I will ! I will !" Sir Anthony shook his stick in a frenzy of passion, the veins of his forehead and neck standing out like whip cords; his face congested. Then, as with starting eyes and open mouth he seemed about to speak, some- thing happened. His gaze became fixed and glassy, his hand relaxed its grip on the cane, a swift shadow suddenly closed down upon him. Rigid and breathing sterter- ously, Sir Anthony fell to the floor. Combined apoplexy and paralysis did their work swiftly, and in a few minutes all was over. Then, with the troubled spirit gone, the face lost its look of strife and irascibility. Blink walked to the window and looked out. Through the shock of his brother's death he recalled the other's bitter and uncharitable words. How strange that with everything at his command Sir An- thony had really had nothing, while he with nothing had really had everything! The Tearer, who had worked fearlessly beside him during the crisis, gave a little frightened exclamation. "Blink! But for the clothes I could swear it was vou lvinc; there. I never saw
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The Impostor 57 such a resemblance. It's — it's ghastly I" The man shrugged, but the girl's words had suddenly set him thinking, and his thoughts led to a wild and daring conclu- sion. "No one could ever tell us apart in the old days," he thought-, "and now that I've been away ten years who would know whether it was Blink the gypsy or Sir An- thony who came back from this cruise?" He thought long and deeply and then turned to his wife. "Tearer," he said, "I think I'd like a go at this baronet business. I couldn't do it any worse than Tony did. And how would you like to be a real lady?" The Tearer's red lips parted in breath- less anticipation. Then, swiftly, she ran to a fragment of mirror hung against the cabin wall. A real lady ! Did she even look the part? Eagerly she studied her dark, vivid beauty — she was in her twenties still— and a wave of confidence and daring swept over her. "Oh. Blink, if I could onlv try !" "That settles it. Help me to change clothes with poor Tony. Then put on your one white dress ; you will have to "pose as my trained nurse till we can make some better arrangement. Thank heaven Tony was a widower !" The exchange was quickly made, and when the two left to go aboard the yacht, to all appearances Blink, the gypsy, lay dead on his cabin floor. An hour later the Nirvana raised anchor and departed on what her owner had ordered to be an extended cruise. Next day Gouger, his quick blood still hot at the affront of the Baronet, returned to the cabin and discovered the body of his friend. He discovered also that the Tearer was gone. To Gouger there was but one explana- tion of all this. The hated Sir Anthony had killed his brother with poison (there were no signs of physical violence) and had run off with his brother's wife. The gypsy buried the body on the crest of that lonely cliff, and above the grave Swiftly, site ran to a fragment of mirror hung against the cabin wall. A real lady !
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58 Photoplay Magazine swore vengeance for his friend with up- raised dagger. Then he set out to fulfill his mission. Now came nervous hours for Blink, hours when it seemed to him pre- posterous that the fraud was not discovered. But his identity was safe. II It was agreed by everyone in the vicinity of Gregston Abbey that the long voyage had done Sir Anthony good. He had re- turned with a newly paralyzed right arm (acquired suddenly when Blink found him- self faced with the necessity of signing Anthony Gregston's name to a check: he now did all business through his solicitors), but otherwise he seemed vastly improved. Considerable credit for this was given to Miss Gibson, his trained nurse, whose devotion was thought remarkable. Sir An- thony spoke of her in the highest terms, a fact which in itself made the servants giddy. His own "son," Blink was relieved to find, scarcely greeted him when he came home. Aubrey's "Ah. Guv'nor. good trip: I suppose," vouchsafed from behind a paper, was a revelation in filial affection. At first Blink was glad of this indiffer- ence, for he had dreaded that meeting, but as time went on and there was no change, he commenced to realize how far apart father and son had grown. The shabbily liveried servants who waited on him reflected this attitude. They paled with fright whenever he raised his voice, and whispered hatred of him in the servants' hall. They expected a return to the old hateful penury of the stingy baronet. The air of distrust and dislike at the Abbey was but indicative, Blink found, of that his outside employes expressed. Most significant was the attitude of the tenantry and the miners from the great coal shaft? nearby. When in his role of Sir Anthom he motored through the countryside it was to meet sullen silence and glances of hatred. Gaunt women and children stood miserably in their squalid doorways and watched him pass, and men at the village pubs shook their fists after him. There were mutter - ings of hatred and threats of upheaval When the committee visited the Abbey, with threats. Blink made Aubrey his spokesman.
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The Impostor 59 Then Blink told all that had happened that day in the little hut on the Welsh coast. everywhere. A "committee" even visited the Abbey, with threats. As a bit of humor. Blink made Aubrey his spokesman. "How poor Tony bungled his job!" Blink thought, observing all this. But one day a plan took shape in his mind, and he commenced to grin. The next afternoon, accompanied by Miss (lib- son, he went to call on Mary Priestly, Au- brey's fiancee. She was a level-eyed, self- possessed young woman, but when she saw her arch-enemy descend before her door and enter it. she feared he had had another stroke. Then, during tea. while the baro- net made himself bewilderingly agreeable to Mrs. Priestly (who had long since given up hope of such attentions), the Tearer talked with Mary. "I'm really very fond of Sir Anthony." she confided, "and he of me." Mary looked well-bred astonishment. "The fact is, I'm such a help — know his ways so well, and all that, that — well, my dear, we have just about decided to marry." For several moments Miss Priestly could not find words. "I think it onlv fair," she said then, "to let you know that the first Lady Gregston was far from happy." "Of course that may have been due to Lady Gregston's lack of skill," suggested Miss Gibson, sweetly, and went on: "Of course we realize that such a marriage might make a great deal of difference to Aubrey in the matter of the inheritance." she blushed becomingly, "so we are unwill- ing to take such a step without his con- sent." "I see." Mary's fine blue eyes grew speculative. "I'll tell him." That night the young man, a blond giant, sought out his father for the first time since his arrival home. He was the correct picture of young aristocracy, stiff, unemotional, to whom expressed feeling was distinctly bad form. "I'll give my consent to your marrying this nurse on one condition," he said, when after much parrying and evading, the real subject had been reached. "And what is that?" "The same one as always — that I be per- mitted to marr,y Miss Priestly without dis- inheritance."
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60 Photoplay Magazine "Nothing would please me more," said this astonishing Sir Anthony. "What?" In spite of himself the young man's eyes almost popped out of his head. "Quite so. It's an alliance I have dreamed of for a long time." Then the blithe baronet ordered the port brought in, and over their glasses a recon- ciliation was effected. It was agreed that the w-eddings should take place within a month. The next week affairs at the coal mines reached their climax. Two men were killed in a falling cage owing to defective equip- ment, and the whole countryside rose in revolt. Sir Anthony at once announced that he would visit the mines himself and find out if conditions were as reported. That after- noon, accompanied by the Tearer and Mary Priestly, he braved openly expressed danger of violence, and drove to the scene of dis- aster. At the shaft he found a grimy, mutter- ing crowd, sullen and hostile. But alight- ing fearlessly, he went over the property from tipple to gallery with his two com- panions, and listened to the complaints presented by a committee of the strikers. He found them to include the very de- mands that had so infuriated the original Sir Anthony. At the end the baronet climbed into his automobile and, careful not to gesture with his paralyzed arm, made a speech to the throng. He said that the miners were right in every particular, and that every demand made would be granted. For a moment there was stunned silence as the bewildered wretches thought their lord had taken leave of his senses. Then caps went into the air and the brooding anger of the mob turned into joy and cheers. "Love of that nurse may have done all this," said Aubrey to Mary that evening, "hut I fear for the Guv'nor's reason. But crazy or not, he's growing rather a good sort, y'know. Never realized it before." "Baroneting isn't so difficult, after all," Blink told the Tearer that night. "Fact is, poor Tony couldn't see beyond the end of his nose. With the new improvements the mines will pay better than ever before." Gradually the whole atmosphere of the county changed, and Sir Anthony Greg- ston, Bart., basked in the light of his good deeds. His passage through the surround- ing villages now was a signal for cheers, waving of hands, and pulling of forelocks. With higher pay and better homes the peo- ple found something to live for, and happi- ness superseded the old restless and danger- ous discontent. Meanwhile at the Abbey preparations went merrily on for the imminent wed- dings. Then one evening, when the Tearer was walking alone in the Abbey park at a con- siderable distance from the house, a man suddenly rose up from behind a stone wall and accosted her. After a moment of fright she recognized Gouger. "Where's the baronet?" he demanded fiercely, his black eyes glittering. "He killed Blink, and I'm going to kill him! I'd kill you, too, if I didn't think old Greg- ston had made you go with him." He told her of finding Blink's body, of burying it, and of the vengeance he had sworn. Dumb with fright, the Tearer could not answer. She thought for an instant of telling Gouger the truth, but then she re- membered the approaching marriage, and knew that could not be explained con- vincingly. Finally she put him off for the moment by saying that the baronet was away from home, and made her escape. This sudden resurrection of the past had the same effect on pleasant baronial life as the appearance of a bull at a picnic. In an instant it threatened to undo all that Blink had accomplished, and to plunge them into scandal, if not tragedy. It seemed as if the dead Sir Anthony, with a last effort of ill will, had reached from the grave to unmask the impostor. Blink himself was in whimsical despair. "I'm grateful for his noble loyalty to my memory, but I really can't be killed on that account ! Put him off. Buy him off. Tell him anything !" "He won't be put off any longer," the Tearer replied. "He swears he's coming tomorrow if he has to fight his way into the house!" "Very well, tell him to come," he di- rected. "But I want you and Aubrey and Mary in the room." The next afternoon Gouger strode glow- ering up through the big park to the house. A cross-hilted dagger protruded from his brilliant sash, and he glared at the servants ferociously as they showed him into the
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The Impostor 61 long, richly-hung, luxurious drawing-room. At sight of Aubrey and the two women he hesitated, but seeing Sir Anthony in the background, he bared his white teeth and strode forward, his hand on his dagger. "Here, you!" Au- brey barred the way. " N o ne of that ! What do v o u want?" Gouger turned on him menacingly, the stiletto half drawn. "I kill your fa- ther," he snarled, "because he killed Blink, my friend. 1 have sworn, and what I have sworn. I do." With a sudden motion, he eluded the young man and leaped at the bogus Sir Anthony. Then Blink, who knew the inviolability of the gypsy oath, realized that matters had gone too far, and held up his hand. "Wait !" he cried, and when Gouger drew back for a mo- ment, turned to the others. "I see there's no wfay out of this but to tell the truth." he said. "I am not Sir Anthony at all. I am Blink. It is Sir Anthony who is dead." "What!" For the second time in his life Aubrey was shaken from his well-bred stolidity. His jaw hung and his eyes bulged with amazement. "Yes." And then Blink told all that had happened that day in the little hut on the Welsh coast. When he had fin- She faced the sunset and her pretty head and figure were thrown into sharp silhouette. ished Gouger then turned to the Tearer. "Is this true?" he demanded. "On my oath," she assented, and Gouger. thrusting his dagger back into his sash, turned away. Then Blink drew a document from his pocket. "This," he said, "is your father's will, disin- heriting you." De- liberately he tore it across. "But to- morrow, Aubrey, I shall draw another will naming you as my heir. And now I ask you to forgive me the hoax I've practiced." The young man, who had been listen- ing with growing astonishment, sud- denly laughed. "Well, rather! You're quite the best Guv'nor I've had. you know, so we'll just say noth- ing more about it. As a matter of fact. I've grown a bit fond of you y'know. since you came back from that bally trip." He colored at this unseemly dis- play of affection, but Blink laughed. "We'll let it go at that." he said. "I was an impostor, but—" "Impostor!" said Mary Priestly. "Well, perhaps. But in everything but name you were the true baronet of Gregston Abbey." "And now for the weddings !" sug- gested the Tearer, who was about to become a real lady at last.
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"Polly* Frederick PAULINE, WHO CAME FROM NEW ENGLAND TO STARDOM, THROUGH THE CHORUS GATE By Julian Johnson ONE of the distinguishing features of the true actress is that one sel- dom, if ever, beholds the real she on the stage. I have seen Pauline Frederick across the tungstens many times, but I had to meet Pauline Frederick in her home to realize that I had never seen Pauline Frederick at all. Of course an actress must bring many real attributes of personality to her roles, or they wouldn't be convinc- ing : but if she is really an actress she is many-sided and has many attributes. Any of them may make a part ; all of them together make the woman. New York knows Pauline Frederick as a chorus girl who made good the way the novelists say she does, but which sel- dom comes to pass in real life. New York knows her as the per- sonification of ele- gant luridity ; not, perhaps, as a por- trayer of scarlet women, but as a por- trayer of women of scarlet emotions ; as the Mrs. Potiphar who nearly brought Joseph into an Egyp- tian divorce court as co-respondent; as the Innocent on whom George Broadhurst sprinkled a little more rosen paprika than Hungarian ancestry had given her. Her picture career has been a continua- tion of those vivid, passionate women. Donna Roma Valonna, mentality, spirit 62 and parental tragedy notwithstanding, was certainly too warm to be called a statue. "Sold" proclaims her as no panacea for St. Anthony ; other magnificent challenges to virility are scheduled to follow. Yet it is no temptress, no rose-pink jewel of emotion, who greets the fortunate visi- tor to her home in New York City. Rather, it is one of the best fellows in the world, not sexless, but with sex locked up for business hours, who grabs your hand like a man, and says: "H e 1 lo ! How are you !" with all the fervor of a real-es- tate agent who thinks you want to buy. No annal of Paul- ine Frederick will ever be complete that doesn't contain an overshadowing by Mrs. Frederick, her mother. Of the two artists, I must say that Mrs. Frederick is the greater. Paul- ine has climbed to a place where she has few rivals as an in- terpreter, but Mrs. Frederick, as a com- bination of gentle- woman and business- woman, mother and manager, diplomat and duenna, has no rivals anvvhere. The two Freder- actress and Frederick pacious, quiet, morn- ing-sun apartment on Park avenue. Park avenue is Manhattan's eastern frontier of elegance. It has something on Fifth ave- nue in quietness, and in its lack of a con- stant encroachment of shops. I have seen Pauline Frederick across the Tungstens many times, but I had to meet her in her home to realize that I had never seen Pauline Frederick at all. icks — Frederick the the Great — live in a
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"Polly" Frederick 63 The two Fredericks- Frederick the actress and Frederick the Great — live in a spacious, quiet, morning- sun apartment on Park Avenue. If you have a morning appointment it is certain that mother will meet you, and will probably entertain you many, many minutes — the while sending maternal S. O. S. calls to a sleepy star who shall be name- less. To. Mrs. Frederick there is no Pauline: there is Polly, a somewhat wilful daughter who nevertheless can be licked into sub- mission, and who is said to be pretty good at acting. . . I had just time to learn who was the real boss of the rancho, on the bright June morning in whose midst I called, before the entrance of Polly. Polly is a convert of that sartorial evan- gelist who proclaimed that the Mongolian, alone, knows how to robe his person at once for comfort and appearance. Polly loves Chinese and Japanese things, and she loves the Occidental modifications of them. The June morning found Polly in something that I shall describe, probablv with gross inaccuracy, as Mandarin trousers both fem- inized and glorified ; a kimono whose deli- cacy of color and fabric belied its richness : white silk stockings and chincsv black pumps which were only a frame for insteps as perfect as the arch of Titus. Poll v. like a Skoda mortar, has to have a setting to shoot. She's that kind of star. Polly's setting is a deep chair and a foot- stool, and a humidor of cigarettes. There is nothing risque, unwomanly or bold in the Frederick cigarettes. Many a clerk's wife gets behind a blue cloud, in public — and looks like Jezebel. Miss Frederick's Turkish tobacco is as innocent as a maiden lady's tea-without-tango, or as a young kid's swimming au naturel. Polly's cigarette belongs; it is as daintily disposed as a cafe noir at dinner or as an ice at a party. And I can't help but re- member that among the holy abjurers of such a ladylike consolation as Polly's there will be those facial distorters, those dis- played of molar convulsions, the gum- chewers! Oh, pot calling the kettle car- bonaceous ! The first pride of a real domestic woman is her home. Such a pride is Miss Fred- ericks. "This." she says, waving a cigarette like a baton toward the south entrance and its lamps and little pictures, and back toward the north end. with its big bay and beauti- ful books, "is what 'The Eternal City' did for me. Do you wonder that I choose to stay in photoplays?" I never wondered at that, but I said
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64 Photoplay Magazine "No," with bated mysteriousness, as though the wonderful thought had just kissed me. "I don't know what I can say about picture-making that hasn't been said," con- tinued the star. "I am as enthusiastic as I can be, and I do want to tell you how wonderful I think Mr. Porter and Mr. Frohman are. Mr. Porter, especially, has been such a help to me in every way, in making my pictures. He has not only told me how to depict emotion — he has helped me in every little detail of dress or cos- tume : he has gotten his own locations ; he has been more than a director : he has been a counsellor and a friend." And lest the reader may be benighted about Porter : he has been called the "man who does everything." He is accredited with being general manager of The Fa- mous Players, but he is also their most per- sistently active director ; he is his own cameraman, and he even develops and prints his own pictures! When he has nothing else to do he writes plays and in- But by the great Boston Bean Pot, she can cook, and she can act beautifully at the wash tub — she can go through the whole domestic curriculum" vents new devices in photography. He is an Edison of screen drama. "My particular pride." continues Miss Frederick, "is my mother. She is my per- sonal manager ; she makes all my appoint- ments and attends to all my little affairs ; and she is my business manager. She makes my contracts — made my contract with The Famous Players, in fact!" We recalled her theatrical days. I told her that I had first seen her, on a November evening in 1908, at the Cri- terion (now Yitagraph) theatre, as a very wonderful French woman in Gillette's pro- duction of "Samson." In as restrained language as possible, I told her of the glamour of her " Potiphar's Wife," in "Joseph and His Brethcrn ;" and of the ultra-humanity of her "Innocent" — the big scene of which consisted of a glowing fire- place to the West, an audience to the East,
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"Polly" Frederick 65 and a glowing girl in a nightie of diaph- anous pink in the middle distance. Pauline Freder- ick, you know, is really saying some-- thing when she says that the speaking stage is by her for- sworn. Here is no half-baked fledgling who failed to arrive, nor one whose great- ness is history. Here is a young woman w h o plunged directly, and in a moment, from the loftiest peak of stardom to the great ocean of active photography. She went from "In- nocent" and many months at the El- tinge theatre to "The Eternal City." "Did you ever" — she laughed — "see me in musical comedy ?" "No." "Well. I'm not laughing because I was bad — I admit that I was good ! — but because of the many, many experi- ences I had. "I made my first appearance on the stage at the Knick- erbocker t h e a t r e. with "The Rogers Brothers in Har- vard." September 1. 1902. My rise was perhaps too rapid for my head, for soon afterward I found myself re- hearsing a small part at the X e w Amsterdam : and. 1 as a director, in came Mr. E danger. The stage manager had told me how to play my part, and notwithstanding Mr. Erlanger's explicit instructions. I fol- lowed my first idea. He ordered me. with characteristic abruptness, to change. Angrily, I made my own in- terpretation even more marked. Then I think he swore at me — he does at al- most everyone, even his friends ! — and I 'sassed' him. " 'Young lady,' he said, with a certain ominous calmness, 'you get out of this theatre — now ! And I want you to un- derstand that you can't have another part on Broadway !' It was the Emperor of the stage, speak- ing. "I don't remem- ber just what I said. But my remarks had the desperation of the done. I chal- lenged him by all the stage gods to make good his threat. The others looked at me with the pity that may be in the eyes of spectators at an execution. "A few years later after 'Samson,' I had charge of a booth at an Actors' Fund Fair. Along came Mr. Erlanger. 1 hadn't seenhim since the Battle of the New Amsterdam. " Something that I shall describe, probably with gross inaccuracy, as Mandarin trousers both feminized and glorified."
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66 Photoplay Magazine '"Hello, girlie!' He had the most cheerful sweetness in the world. 'Well, I see you came right back and horned in, after all !' Not an incident, nor a particu- lar, ever escapes his mind. I was dread- fully embarrassed. I grew scarlet. He turned to go. 'I knew that's just what you'd do !' he exclaimed, shaking a finger at me. And then I laughed, too." Miss Frederick early made the transfer from musical shows to the legitimate. Among the plavs in which she has appeared are "The Little Gray Lady," "When Knights Were Bold," "Twenty Days in the Shade," "Toddles," "The Dollar Mark," "Samson," "The Fourth Estate," and "Joseph and His Brethren." She was born in Boston, August 12, 1884. And it is the strong, sincere, resourceful New England strain which is uppermost in her real self. It is the New England girl who grabs your hand so masterfully ; hers is a New England voice. She doesn't speak Bostonese, but her syllables have that old, unmistakable Puritan drive. And as New England has produced music-drama prima-donna like Lillian Norton, who became Mme. Nordica, and after that a breathing replica of every com- plex character in the modern repertoire, so it has produced in Pauline Frederick a keen, poised, alert woman whose intelli- gence and resource have enabled her to por- tray in breathing verity every sort of se- ductress, adventuress and charmer that she is not — besides giving being to a whole lot of perfect real ladies. The blessed photoplay business which in one year gave her the Park avenue flat, and most of what is therein, promises to bestow right early that blessed feeling which is every working girl's right, viz. : surety that one will glide in one's own motor whether the shredded wheat factories keep on turn- ing out shrapnel or not. The big and very real kitchen in Flat Frederick is not 'only for the use of the servants. Do you think that this New- England mother let Polly get great with- out learning all the details of housekeep- ing ? Not on your Emerson Essays ! She may be a Naughty Shadow, she may smoke cigarettes in bed, but by the great Boston Bean Pot she can cook, she can act beau- tifully at the wash-tub, she can iron like Sans Gene, she can set table, she can wash dishes — she can -go through the whole domestic curriculum without putting too much starch in her collars or too much soda into the biscuits. And, often, she does it! Married? Once. But, as the Russians said about holding Warsaw, it didn't prove expedient. So the marriage was evacuated in orderly fashion and with honor, and now Polly is a bachelor lady. "Zaza" is soon to be released, with Miss Frederick in the Carter role. When con- ditions permit she is rroing to Egypt, with a Famous Players company, for the filming of "Bella Donna." Motorized Movies YY/HERE once the actors trudged on foot " And weary reached the stage, They now dash past and travel fast, For autos are the rage. The movie star and her motor car Are very often seen ; Wherever films are being made There's lots of gasoline. The stage mechanics loll around On fine upholstered seats — No longer do they sweat and toil With faces red as beets! The march of progress shows itself: How speedily Time runs. They shift the scenes from their machines, The lucky sons-of-guns ! The boss's car has ninety horse ; The leading man's has fifty; The camera man's has yellow paint, And the janitor's is nifty. The president has eight machines And takes his choice each day. The extra men have limousines, In which to count their pay. So autos cart the actors off And bring them back again. They rush them to the sunshine. If at home it starts to rain. The auto does most everything That's thrown upon the screen — The thing that makes the movies move Is really gasoline! — Leepsox Bowxes.
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"Super the Great" SOMETHING ABOUT COL. T. WALN-MORGAN DRAPER, THE WORLD'S MOST FAMOUS EXTRA MAN, AND HIS DIVINE CHIN HALO By Jan Muenchener THERE was little pay and no g in being an extra man, until Col. Wain-Morgan Draper reflected hf the most striking men m pictures. He is in demand at many studios for parts calling for a distinguished appearance. And he lends those parts a true dignity. So often they are merely ridiculous. As a dip- lomat, the audience knows that here is a man who isn't trading Australia to a foreign power under the impression that it is situ- ated in the interior of Kamchatka. Like- wise as a jurist, as soldier, as financier, sur- geon or savant, he preserves the eternal fit- ness of things. He always registers. He is to the manor born. Colonel Draper was born in New York city sixty years ago. He is a retired army officer, is six feet and one inch tall, and as straight as a hickory sapling. He has trav- eled extensively on every sea and continent, and speaks five languages fluently. He first entered moving pictures October 25, 1914, at the Pathe studio in "The Perils of Pau- line." There are many parts which he has handled exceedingly well, that of Judge Eidlitz, in "The Curious Conduct of Judge Ledgard," having called forth particularly favorable criticism. He has been in many productions of the Yitagraph, Famous Players, Fox Film Company, Kalem Company, 'World Film Manufacturing Company, Solax, Lincoln Players, Dryeda, Universal, and Charles K. Harris. He is now with the Xew York Motion Picture Corporation. Colonel Draper has thousands of fol- lowers, of the quieter sort, among picture patrons. To those observant of refined de- tail the impersonations of this extra man are a source of keen delight. He gives a new zest to the wooden parts of old. a
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Plavin T was a hot afternoon in the House of Rep- resentatives at Washington. The cotton legisla- tion filibuster of ast summer was on. Less than two score of the 435 mem- >ers were in attendance and they paid little heed as a Southern orator pictured the woe that had over- taken his people hecause the European war precluded the shipment of the cotton crop. "Mr. Speaker, I regret to note the absence of a quorum." said Congressman Frank W. Mondell, a Wyoming Repub- ican, who delights to pester the Democratic majority. Speaker Champ Clark went through the formality of counting the little band of the faithful ' J L, ti^0c%Vo"& who were present. I he Sergeant- ^W H of the United 1 . . , ° . " States Supreme at-arms was given the customary Court and for- order to summon absentees. "I suggest he might find some of these recalcitrant members at the ball park," J said "Jim" Mann, the Republican floor leader. "Yes, and he might look into some of these 'movie' shows," commented the picturesque "Jedge" Adamson, of Georgia, who said, off the record, that he was getting blamed tired of so many ro calls. The Sergeant-at-arms found absentees both at the ball yard and the "movies," which brings one around to the fact that the average statesman is a moving picture "fan." There's scarcely a worth-while public official in Washington who doesn't like the "movies." Cabinet officers, staid jurists, senators and congressmen like the drama of the films. Before his period of mourning the President himself was a devotee, and moving picture productions were staged not infre- quently within the White House. If the President attended a vaudeville with a motion picture finish he remained for that finish and he has posed a number of times for the "movie" man. That President Wilson would like to be able to pay his nickel or dime and take in the average moving picture show, along with the kids and the proletariat, was intimated in a remarkable address he delivered sometime ago before the National Press Club. In this Photos by Harris & Ewing, Washington, D. C. mer attorney- general.
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Ho o k e y crowds without being noticed, Mr. Wilson said : "It would be a great pleasure if unobserved and un attended I could be knocked around as I have been accus- tomed to being knocked around all my life ; if I could resort to any delightful quarter, to any place in Washington that I choose. "I have sometimes thought of going tto some costumers — some theatrical rostumers — and buying an assort ment of beards, rouge, coloring and all the known means of disguising myself — if it were not against the law. You see, I have a scruple the law, could myself as President against breaking but if I disguise and not get caught, I would go out, be a free American citizen once more and have a jolly time." The next day a cartoonist friend of the Chief Executive published a cartoon of Mr. Wilson, standing in front of a moving picture theatre entrance and reaching for a nickel as he saw the "ad" of a thrilling detective story as the headliner. The cartoon caption read : "Some of the things the President would like to do." Other officials, however, are not tied down by custom and Secret Service guards. They come and go as they please and are regular "movie fans." The roster of government officials in Washington carries the names of men whose faces are familiar to the ticket-takers at many a moving picture house. There's the Secretary of Labor, William B. Wilson, for instance. When he lived at Sixteenth and T streets he would walk five blocks almost any night to see a good moving picture and he generally brought along Mrs. Wilson and the little Wilsons. "He came three times in one week," said the ticket-taker, laconically. "He's a bug about the movies. Likes anything from the comedies to the multiple reel affairs." The Secretary has now moved to another neighborhood, but as soon as the furniture 69 John Burke. Treasurer of the United States.
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70 Photoplay Magazine was in place he located the near- est motion picture theatre. The real "moving picture fan" of public life, however, is Con- gressman William Schley How- ard, of Georgia. He has been known to seek a moving picture emporium six nights per week and when the House has a night session, requiring the attendance of Howard, he gets fearfully sore because it takes him away from the films. Congressman Scott Ferris, of ( Oklahoma, chairman of the House Public. Lands committee, is another devotee of the films and Congressman Tom Bell, of Georgia, is "right pert" in his attendance. Senafor ,.mv. Grouping other Stone, of Mis- distinguished "fans" $&* gj£* of the House of Rep- £*&?£&£ resentatives one finds the names of Decker, of Missouri. Lloyd, of Missouri. Aiken, of South Carolina, liarklev. of Ken- tucky. Hill, of Illi- nois. Garrett, of Tennessee, Carlin. of Virginia (the co- author of the latest a n t i-trust legisla- tion) : Glass, of Vir- ginia (co-author of the currency law) ; Mann, of Illinois (the astute minority leader) ; "Vic" Mur- dock. who left pub- lic life last March ; Padgett, chairman of the Naval Af- fairs committee ; Fitzgerald, chair- man of the power- f u 1 Appropriations committee (he has to pay the way for about seven little Fitzes), and Mad- den, of Illinois, one of the wealthiest men in Congress. The Senate, too, is filled with mov- ing picture "fans," and it is by no means practical here to name one-half of the national legisla- tors who go when- ever they get a chance. Practically the entire member- ship of the Senate saw the original pro- duction in Washing- ton of "The Birth of a Nation," the in- vitations b e i n g is- sued by Senator Lee S. Over m a n, of North Carolina, the home state of Thomas Dixon. The most ardent "movie fans" in the Senate are Senators La Follette, Bank- head, Stone, Reed, Ashurst, Sheppard, Hughes, and James Hamilton Lewis, of pink whiskers fame. Senator La Fol- lette, according to the doorman, likes features and will sit through a three hour performance if the play is good. Former Senator Theodore E. Burton, of Ohio, now in the limelight as a Republican presidential candidate, saw his first moving picture show on his recent tour of South and Central America. The Senator had caught a glimpse of an occasional film rounding out a regular theat- rical performance, but his first visit to a motion picture place was made in Buenos Ayres. Mr. Burton, a man of extreme dignity and sedentary habits, was greatly amused to observe a reel depicting the antics of a lot of trained animals let loose by a circus. "foe" Tumulty, secretary to President Wilson, hies away
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Playing Hookey at the Movies 71 man, as his photograph denotes. He never gets ex- cited about the theatres. He simply attends a film show and enjoys it the same as he would enjoy the process of saving Uncle Sam one thousand dollars. Roy Cabell, former commissioner of Internal Revenue, has followed the motion picture industry from its infancy and is as enthusiastic about its pos- sibilities today as he was a decade ago. Secretary Josephus Daniels is a "movie fan." He believes in motion pictures to such an extent that they are shown not infrequently on battleships. Mr. Daniels says the "movies" are one of the great- est educators of all time, and he practices what he preaches by slipping away to see them whenever official duties permit. Associate Justice McReynolds. of the United States Supreme Court, posed for the moving picture Secretary of Commerce, W. C. Redfield. Senator R. M. La Follette, Of Wisconsin. to the "movie" every few nights. He dotes on Charlie Chaplin and is partial to any comedy reel. Like Fitzgerald, of New York, he is a man of con- siderable family and the ticket man generally gets about five pieces of pasteboard when the Tumultys pass through the turnstiles. John Burke, treasurer of the United States, whose name adorns the currency of the United States, is a "movie fan" of the near-Cabinet set. Another is Robert YV. Woolley, director of the mint. George E. Downey, the official watchdog of the Treasury who passes upon the validity of all accounts presented to the government for payment, had rather go to a "movie" than dole out an appropriation of mie million dollars or veto a padded expense account — albeit he is pretty good at vetoing padded expense bills. Mr. Downey is a quiet, studious, methodical Secretary of Labor, William C. Wilson
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72 Photoplay Magazine Senator Boies Penrose, of Pennsyl- operator as he left the office of Attor- ney General. His successor, Attorney General Gregory, was a movie actor with him — and both of them like a rattling good picture. So does Chief Justice Edward D. White, who is perhaps more fond of the drama, spoken and reel, than any other member of the highest tri- bunal. Chief Justice J. Harry Cov- ington, of the District of Co- lumbia Supreme Court, who was co-author while in Congress of the Federal Trade Commission Act, belongs to the coterie of judi- cial "movie fans." Judge Covington can deal with caveats, writs of certiorari, injunc- tions, subpoenas duces tecum and habeas corpus proceedings all day — and then forget all about it when he- enters the darkened interior of a mo- tion picture house. Secretary Redfield was not regarded as a possibility among moving picture "bugs," but inquiry develops that he is another Cabinet enthusiast. The Secretary, with his bristling red- dish whiskers, cold blue eyes and J. P. Tumulty, solemn countenance, wouldn't be Pre^SeiuwUson vania "acting' for the news camera. picked out as a habitue of the movie" places, but it appears that he is quite partial to them. On the other hand, Postmas- ter General Burleson seldom attends. Secretary McAdoo goes occasionally ; Secretary Lane likes to see a movie if it has an educational value, ' and Secretary Lansing, be- ing a whole-souled American, is not averse to an hour with the films, but is so busy writ- ing notes to Germany and other nations that he really has little time for any theatre. The predeliction of public men in Washington to seek the allur- ing haunts of the motion picture theatres was aptly expressed by the ticket-taker at a downtown establishment, to-wit : "Do we have any distinguished visitors? Well, I guess yes. Let me tell you : "I work in one of the depart- ments by day. I see all these Sena- tors and Congressmen around there hunting jobs for constituents in the afternoon and then at night they're here at the movies with these same \
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Playing Hookey at the Movies 73 constituents. They don't get the jobs, but they like the movies so well they go back home and vote for the fellow anyway. Seri- ously, though, there's nobody in Washington too good to go to the movies, and I've seen everybody from Cabinet members to gov- ernment janitors click -through these turn- stiles." . Even Senator Boies Penrose, of Penn- sylvania, standpat Republican, who is gen- erally derided by the Democrats and a certain Bull Mooser (whose initials are T. R.) as being little short of a horned human being — but who is withal a pretty good fellow and an able man — wasn't averse to going upon the moving picture film himself. He utilized the "movies" in his campaign and his majority was so big it took days to count it. There's a good place to end this story. Any industry which can engage the tal- ents and time of men so widely different in temperament as Penrose, La Follette, Roosevelt. Wilson, Champ Clark, Bryan and Redfield. has arrived with a whoop and is good enough for the ordinary mortal. Fashions and the Screen IILLIAN HOWARD, in November Photoplay Magazine, I t will offer you the best story on Fashions and the Screen that has ever been written for any periodical. C Miss Howard will show you, by words and by a remark- able series of specially posed photographs of America's leading stars in their fall and winter gowns, that the photoplay has actually taken the place of the stage as a purveyor of modes to the women of the nation. C She will prove to you, conclusively, that Fifth Avenue's foibles are swept to every corner of America — on the flying celluloids — while the innovations are still glitter- ingly new in the metropolis. C The Editors of Photoplay Magazine dare assert that no periodical next month will carry an article of such absorbing interest to feminine readers. ON SALE OCTOBER FIRST
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THE CIRCULAR STAIRCASE *Bij Gordon 'Bruce BEING THE STORY OF A HOUSE OF MYSTERY AND THE CAIRN OF THE PSEUDO DEAD Illustrations from the Selig Film P kLEASE remember, Mr. Bailey, that "you are only my father's hired man. and in his absence you will take your orders from me." "And you will please remember, Mr. Arnold Armstrong, that I take no orders, either from your father or his golf-playing son that are not in accordance with my ideas of how the banking business should be conducted." The altercation between Jack Bailey, cashier of the Armstrong Trust Company, and the son of its absent president, in a room at the Greenwood Club, had reached its climax, and the two young men spoke in loud and angry tones. Sampson Jarvis, who had been read- ing his paper at the other end of the room, looked up and saw them standing close to each other, fists clenched and faces flushed. "Gentlemen, gen- tlemen." he inter- posed quietly. "That doesn't in- clude Bailey," Arm- strong sneered. "You young puppy," Bailey re- torted, and his mus- cles grew tense, while Armstrong, anticipating a blow, dodged back and picked up a golf stick. "What's the mat- ter. Jack?" came a voice from the door- way, and the three turned and saw Halsev Innes. in Then slowly and cautiously, silent and trembling, they went to the circular staircase and descended, Gertrude pointing the gun into the gloom. Photoplay adapted from the novel by Mary Roberts Rinehart; publishers. 74 motor garb, just entering the club. "Nothing much. Just a difference of opinion over business matters," he said, and turned his back on Arnold. "Well, come on. Sis is waiting in the car. We're on our way to Sunnyside, and Aunt Kay said to bring you along. We can put you up for the night, and I'll drive you to town in the morning." From a violent quarrel with Arnold Armstrong, to a ride with his fiancee. Ger- trude Innes, was a welcome change, and Bailey hurried away for his coat and hat. "How does your aunt like Sunnyside?" Arnold asked Halsey. "Why, that's right — it's your father's place, isn't it? Oh. it's picturesque and comfortable, but rather old-fash- ioned. Seems odd to be without elec- tricitv. and that sort of thing." "Yes — Ave could- n't stand it," Ar- nold replied super- ciliously, but Hal- sey ignored the im- plied affront. "Queer arrange- ment, that circular staircase." he re- marked. "It's so steep it's a wonder someone hasn't broken his neck on it." Arnold darted a sudden. inquiring look at him. and then turned a w a y with a forced yawn as if bored by the subject. Just then special arrangement Bobbs-Merrill Company,
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The Circular Staircase "Auntie — you shall not call Jack Bailey will prove his Bailey called. "All right. Hal." and the friends departed. "Be nice to him, Gertrude." Ilalsey said to his sister, as they came up to the ma- chine. "Jack's been having a row with Arnold Armstrong, and you'll have to smooth down his ruffled feathers." From the silence in the tonneau as he drove the purring car homeward, he gathered that his orders were being carried out. Hut Gertrude could see that something was worrying her usually cheerful sweetheart, and that the pressure of his hand upon hers seemed mechanical and perfunctory, but being a wise young woman she asked no questions. Sunnyside was more than old-fashioned : it was almost neglected. The Armstrongs had not kept up the grounds, and the drive way from the lodge to the house wound through a -veritable tangle of shrubbery run wild, and trees whose branches, un- trimmed, swung so low as to brush the au- tomobile. The house itself was one of those rambling affairs of half a century ago, decorated with ginger-bread cornices, railings, and cupolas. One feature at- tracted the attention immediately upon en- tering— a steep, circular staircase, rising a coward! He is the man I love, and he innocence yet. " out of the center of the square reception hall, and going straight up through the three stories. The idea of the builder ap- parently had been to save space, as it took no more room than an elevator. Dinner and Aunt Kay were waiting for the young people. Miss Ray Innes, spin- ster despite many amorous sieges of her vigorous self and her ample fortune, had adopted the children of her dead brother when they were bereft of both parents in childhood, and seemed to find in their affec- tion all the family life her independent nature needed. She was as strong in body as she was in mind, with a certain mascu- line force of character, the result of being both father and mother to two extremely lively young persons. Her contagious good humor soon dispelled whatever worries had infected Bailey, and the evening sped rap- idly, so that it was nearly midnight before any of them realized it. Aunt Ray occu- pied a large front room on the second floor, with a door near the spiral stair, and Ger- trude one directly opposite. Jack and Ilal- sey had apartments at the rear. In the middle of the night Halsev awak- ened with a feeling that some one was mov- ing around in the house. Hastily slipping
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76 Photoplay Magazine on a few of his outer garments he went to Jack's room, and found it empty. He hur- ried down the back stairs, and began grop- ing his way toward the entrance hall. He heard the front door open softly and some- one enter cautiously. Then quicker and less cautious steps followed, and without warning there was the crack of a revolver, the sound of a body falling, a moan, the slam of the front door and flying footsteps, the scratching of a match, Jack's voice, exclaiming "Good God," and the front door opening and slamming again. Hal- sey, stumbling over furniture, rushed to the door and hurried out in pursuit. Aunt Ray and Gertrude, awakened by the noise, screamed and ran into the hall upstairs. "Auntie, Auntie, what is it? Who is shot?" Gertrude cried. "Halsey — Jack," the older woman called, but there was no reply. She hur- riedly lighted a candle, while Gertrude got a revolver from her room. They went to the rooms at the rear, and discovered the absence of the young men. Then, slowly and cautiously, silent and trembling, they went to the circular staircase and de- scended. Gertrude pointing the gun into the gloom. "Who is it? Speak or I'll fire," she called, but there was no reply, and the two women advanced toward the door. Sim- ultaneously their feet encountered a body, and shrieking they fled up the stairs. "The phone is in my room," Aunt Ray gasped. "We'll call up the club." Liddy, an old sen-ant of Aunt Ray's, was huddled on the floor in the upper hall. Mrs. Wat- son, the housekeeper, and Tom, the negro butler, former employes of the Armstrongs, were nowhere to be seen. Aunt Ray suc- ceeded in reaching Jarvis, who was staying at the club, and he said he would come at once with help. Shivering with fear the women awaited his arrival, asking them- selves over and over again : "Whose dead body is that in the hall below, and where The three women, their nerves tingling with excitement, waited below, braced herself to be ready for anything.
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The Circular Staircase 77 are Halsey and Jack?" At last they heard an automobile stop in front of the house, and went to the staircase. Jarvis, accom- panied by several of the club servants, en- tered the house, flooding the hall with light from several pocket flash lamps. Jarvis bent over the body, and turned the face to the light. "Arnold Armstrong." he exclaimed, "murdered in his father's house !" "Thank God it isn't Halsey or Jack," murmured Aunt Kay. "Where are Mr. limes and Mr. Bailey?" Jarvis asked. "I don't know. They are not in their rooms," said Aunt Ray. "That's strange," Jarvis mused. "Bailey and young Armstrong had a violent quarrel this evening." . "You don't mean — " Gertrude began. "I mean nothing. The police will have to work it out," said Jarvis. "I will stay with you until they come." While they were talking the housekeeper, white and staring, appeared in the doorway of the drawing room. She explained that she started down stairs upon hearing the shot, fell headlong, hurt her arm badly, and had been sitting, paralyzed with fear, in the dark, unable even to call for help. Wondering what it all meant, Gertrude and Aunt Ray sat up the remainder of the night, speculating on the cause of the dis- appearance of the young men. With the morning came the formal police investigation, in charge of Detective Jamie- son, who immediately organized a search for the missing Bailey. He declined to accuse the cashier openly, but insisted there were certain matters he must explain. But to search for a man, a clue to begin upon is necessary, and there was not the slightest trace of Jack's movements. Toward noon Halsey returned, coming to the house by way of the stables, exhausted, dusty, un- shaven. Where he had been, why he had gone, and whether or not he knew where Bailey was. he refused to say, even to his sister and aunt, much less to the detective. "Are you aware .that your refusal may place you under suspicion?" the detective asked. "Suspect all you like !" answered Halsey abruptly. Then came the newspapers with a flood of revelations. Young Armstrong dead, the cashier of the trust company missing, and the president absent in the West ac- companied by a private physician, Dr. Walker, in search of rest and health, the bank examiners decided there should be an investigation. Experts were called to open the safes, and it was announced that nego- tiable securities amounting to a million and a quarter dollars were missing. Dr. Walker telegraphed that the elder Armstrong, pros- trated by the news of his son's death, was unable to travel. The only man who might be able to explain, Jack Bailey, was miss- ing, so the authorities considered them- selves justified in issuing a warrant for his arrest on a charge of embezzlement. Aunt Ray. whose faith in Bailey up to this time, had been firm, began to weaken, and around the library table, discussing the situation with Halsey and Gertrude that evening, she ticked off the points against him, and hammered them home with the question, "Why did he run away? Why didn't he stay and face the music? I have no use for a coward." "Auntie — you shan't call Jack Bailey a coward. He is the man I love, and he will prove his innocence yet." Halsey patted her shoulder approvingly, and added: "Yes, and there is one thing we are forgetting. There has been no expla- nation for Armstrong's presence in this house. Find that out, and we may get a clue to the rest." There was little sleep for any of them that night, and after midnight, Aunt Ray. wide awake, heard light footfalls almost directly over her head. She thought it must be nerves and imagination, at first, as the third floor was unoccupied, and almost un- furnished, the rooms being used principally for storage purposes. She sat up and lis- tened again, and was sure she was right. She went out into the hall, making no noise, and crept to the circular staircase. The sound was plainly audible now. The solu- tion flashed into her mind — Jack was hid- ing in her own house. "Jack Bailey, is that you?" she called softly. The result was disconcerting. A heavy blanket dropped down upon her, a door slammed, and then — silence. Aunt Ray was not frightened. She had braced herself to be ready for anything. So she stood guard at the stairway, and called for Hal- sey, Gertrude and Liddy. There was no other escape, as the back stairs did not
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78 Photoplay Magazine reach to the third floor, and to drop to the ground would have meant serious injury. Halsey came with a lighted candle, as did also his sister and the servant, and Aunt Ray told him of the incident; and of her belief that it was Jack Bailey. "I can tell you this much, it isn't Jack," he said, "but I'll soon find out who it is," and with his revolver ready he ascended the spiral steps, while the three women, their nerves tingling with excitement, waited be- low. Halsey went through all the rooms, looked behind packing cases and trunks, and found no one. He retraced his steps carefully, not neglecting any spot which might shelter the intruder, but with no suc- cess. Moreover, all the windows were closed and fastened on the inside. "Auntie, you've had a dream," he said, as he came back. "Did I dream this too?" she asked, hold- ing out the blanket. While they were puzzling over the in- cident next morning a telegram was brought to the house. It was from Dr. Walker, and read : "Mr. Armstrong dead. Returning with body. His last request house must be va- cated at once as I have bought it and will reimburse you." "I shall do 'nothing of the sort," Aunt Ray declared. "I have a five years lease, and propose to fix up the grounds. By the way, Halsey, I want you to get a gardener for me right away." "A gardener ! Good idea. I don't like the idea of being the only man around, with all these queer doings. I'll go to town for one right now," and he was off. "Great heavens !" Aunt Ray exclaimed. "Halsey must be losing his nerve. Did you ever see a man move so fast?" and almost before she had finished speaking they heard the roar of the automobile down the drive- way. He was back in a few hours, bring- ing with him a neatly dressed young man whom he introduced as Alex Smith. Alex- did not look like a gardener, and Aunt Ray had a prejudice against mustaches, but Halsey assured her that the man's creden- tials were all that could be desired, and so he was engaged. While the household was thus increased, it lost one of its other mem- bers, for the injury to Mrs. Watson's arm developed blood poisoning, and she had to be removed to a hospital. Detective Jamie- son was still making the house his head- quarters, but was baffled by several prob- lems : Where was Bailey ? Why did Arnold Armstrong come to the house the night he was killed? Why had his father sold the place and why did Dr. Walker insist that it should be vacated immediately, when it was so advantageously leased? What was the source of the mysterious blanket and whose the footsteps Aunt Ray had heard? Several days passed without incident, ex- cept that Aunt Ray continued to hear muf- fled sounds on the third floor, for which none of them could account. Then Dr. Walker arrived with Mr. Armstrong's body, which was immediately given a private bur- ial in the cemetery near by, after which the doctor called to repeat his request diat the house be vacated. He produced a deed to the property and a curt note from Mr. Armstrong, asking that the lease be can- celed. Aunt Ray as curtly refused. "Madam, you will be sorry," Dr. Walker said. "I warn you to leave Sunnyside be- fore anything occurs which you will regret all your life. Mr. Armstrong had good reasons for his request." „ "I am willing to take full responsibility," the determined woman answered, "and I am not going to budge until certain matters are explained to my satisfaction." Dr. Walker began to bluster, but was interrupted by Halsey, who had been listen- ing in the adjoining room, and ordered him out of the house. "Remember, I have warned you," the doctor shouted as he departed. The more complicated the situation be- came, the more determined Aunt Ray be- came to solve it. The new gardener also provided her with food for speculation. She began to encounter him in all sorts of unexpected places. One day she found him on the mysterious third floor, and, upon being questioned, he explained that he was looking for tools. When she expressed to Halsey her doubts as to Alex's reliability, he laughed at her, and said she was grow- ing suspicious of everyone, and would be suspecting himself soon. Aunt Ray shook her head, and dropped the subject. Then she received a message from the hospital, saying that Mrs. Watson was dy- ing, and wanted to see her. She hurried to the bedside of the housekeeper. "Miss Innes," whispered the woman, who could barely speak, "I know I'm going to die, and I must get this load off my mind.
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The Circular Staircase 79 He was back in a few hours bringing with him a neatly dressed young man, whom he introduced as Alex Smith. It was I shot young Mr. Armstrong. Old Tom was sick in his room at the lodge, and I had been nursing him. On my way back. Mr. Arnold stepped out from the trees, and told me he must get into the house. I told him I wouldn't let him in. He argued with, me, and then struck me over the arm with a golf stick, took the key away from me and ran to the house. I hurried after him. I always carried a revolver when I went out at night, because I am afraid of tramps. When 1 reached the door he had just got inside, and I followed him. I fired, onlv intending to scare him out. and then tell you it was a burglar. Before God, I never intended to kill him. Then I ran out, and slipped in by the back door. Please don't tell anyone you don't have to, for I'm go- ing to die. but I'm not afraid to face my Maker, now I've told the truth." With this. the sick woman dropped back, limp, upon her pillow. "Have you any idea what he wanted?" Aunt Ray asked. Hut Mrs. Watson's strength had gone with her supreme effort in confessing, and in a few minutes she breathed her last. Armed with this revelation. Aunt Ray re- turned home, but after all it solved only the least of the puzzling questions. She called a council of war, and with Halsey and Oertrude discussed the situation, as they sat beside the staircase, outside her room. "Well. I've decided what to do." she said at last, with even more than her cus- tomary firmness. "There's some mystery up these stairs. Arnold Armstrong was headed for them when lie was shot, and up on that floor all the strange sounds have been going on. Tonight we will take- turns watching to see that no one escapes, and tomorrow we will go over it inch by inch, move all the things that could hide a man or a trapdoor, and get at the bottom of the thing if we have to tear out the par- titions. I'll pay Dr. Walker for his old house if I have to, but no blamed ghost is going to get the better of me." The first part of the night passed quietly, and at midnight Halsey and Alex took up their position at the landing on the second floor. The two men had become quite inti- mate, for employer and employe, on such short acquaintance, and were conversing in confidential whispers when a scream was heard coming from the servants' quarters at the rear of the house, and Liddy rushed into the hall. "Mr. Halsey. Mr. Smith," she called, "the stables are on fire."
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80 Photoplay Magazine The man hurried back and entered. Aunt Ray shouted at him: "Drop that! I've got you at last. " Aunt Rav and Gertrude hurried into the hall. "Watch the staircase," Halsey shouted. ''Come, Alex," and the men ran for the stables. The lines tightened around Aunt Ray's mouth, and she gripped her revolver. Ger- trude was no less brave. The Innes blood and Innes courage steeled her nerves. Then above the noise of the fire they heard foot- steps on the floor above, with no attempt at concealment. Someone had rushed to the back of the house, from which point the stables could be seen. Swiftly Aunt Ray mounted the stairs, handing Gertrude her gun. and motioning for her to stay at her post and keep silent. When she reached the top. the brave spin- ster nearly dropped with astonishment. Beside the top step there was an opening in the wall where a sliding door had been pushed back. Inside was a bare, unplas- tered room with solid brick walls, a bare kitchen table, a safe, and. on the table, a small grip. At the other end of the hall stood a portly man. looking out at the fire, and buttoning a heavy overcoat As he turned. Aunt Ray retreated into the secret room. The man hurried back and entered. Just as he reached for the grip. Aunt Ray shouted at him : "Drop that! I've got you at last." The man tried to dart out of the door, but the stalwart woman flung him back as if he had been a child. He turned and faced her, cowering, the table between them, and the light from the flickering candle revealed his features plainly : "Armstrong! And no ghost!" the un- wavering woman exclaimed. "Gertrude." she called. "I've got him. Never mind the stables. Call Halsey." Just then another voice was heard from the first floor. It was Dr. Walker's. "Armstrong — hurry," he called. "It's the last chance." "It isn't even that," anil Detective Jamieson stepped out of the drawing room, and in a few seconds had overpowered the conspirator. In the little room at the top of the stair- case. Armstrong, haggard from his confine- ment, and the picture of terror, kept back- ing away from his captor. He was fat and pudgy, and seemed anxious to avoid an- other struggle with the powerful spinster. He crowded himself into a corner, made a sudden movement, and a second door slid
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The Circular Staircase 81 open. Turning, he leaped for the stairs, stumbled and fell headlong, rolling over and over, clear to the bottom of the two flights. Aunt Kay ran down, and found Halsey and the gardener, who had been summoned by Gertrude, bending over the banker's inert form. His neck had been broken by the fall. They all turned from the gruesome sight, into the drawing room. "The game is up, Mr. Doctor Walker," said the detective. "You may as well con- fess. It will go much easier with you." The prisoner considered a moment, and then spoke, in a surly voice. "Well, Armstrong's affairs were getting in bad shape. He decided to loot his own bank, and go into hiding here, until I could send a fake body back from the West, where he was supposed to have gone. Bailey caused all the trouble by insisting upon Arnold producing the bank's securities, and Arnold was coming to get instructions from his father when he was killed. I bought the body of a pauper, pretending it was for a medical school, and hurried back. Mr. Armstrong and I had a code of signals arranged, and it was his con- stant watch for me that made it necessarv for him to leave his hiding place. That was how you came to hear him, for he had enough supplies stored in that room to last him a month or more. He signaled me that the place was being watched so closely he could not escape, and suggested burning the stables, to get everyone out of the house. That's the whole story. You will find the securities intact in a grip in the secret room at the top of the circular staircase." "But how did you get the deed and the note ordering me to leave?" Aunt Ray asked. "I had them before I went away. Arm- strong's first idea was that his greatest safety lay in the fact that you were occu- pying the house, but later we decided it was better to have some excuse to try to get you to leave, if necessary." "Well, then, what has happened to Tack Bailey?" "Oh, nothing much," came a voice from a dimly lighted corner, and the bewildered Aunt Ray looked around and saw her niece in the arms of the gardener. "Take off the mustache, Jack," Halsey called out cheerily, and his sister said, "Yes — it tickles." A Study in Expression Watching the Slap-Stick Comedy Film
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The Kick- In Prophets LEGEND OF THE FRERES DE MILLE, WHO BUILT A DAYLIGHT REALITY OUT OF A DREAM By K. Owen THE true prophet is not he who speaks and then sits back with folded arms and waits for the gods to make good for him ; but he who spills his little prophecy, then strips off his coat and makes it come true: the "kick-in prophet," as it were. When Cecil B. De Mille quit New York some eighteen months ago for Los Angeles "to convert a Hollywood garage into a mo- tion picture studio, he was thoroughly equipped with ignorance (according to him- self) and zeal; ignorance as to the rules and regulations laid down for the construction of pic- ture plays and zeal to pro- duce actual drama for the screen. When, a year later. William Churchill De Mille, his brother and erstwhile col- laborator, followed his trail to the setting sun to become chief of the scenario depart- ment of the Jesse L. Lasky Feature Play Company of the quondam garage, drama's recognition of the screen was complete. For more than a generation the name of De Mille had been closely linked with that of Belasco, both synonymous with high altitudes of dramatic art. Consequently when the first De Mille turned to the screen _ ... ,,. there was marked the begin- Cectl De Mille, in a Seville of his . i • Si own making, swaps some" Carmen" "l«g 01 a new epoch 111 him talk with Geraldine Farrar. annals. 82
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The Kick-In Prophets 83 Sons of a famous playwright of another generation, Henry C. De Mille, the broth- ers have virtually grown up in an atmos- phere of drama. Their father, one of the earliest associates of David Belasco, with whom he wrote "The Charity Ball," "The Wife," "Lord Chumley," and other noted plays. Before he was thirty, William De Mille had won a place in the ranks of successful playwrights with "Strongheart." "Class- mates," "The Warrens of Virginia," and "The Woman," To the credit of Cecil De Mille, among other successes, are "The Return of Peter Grimm," "The Royal Mounted" and with his brother, "The Gen- ius" and "After Five." Let it be recorded here that William C. has just entered his thirty-eighth year and Cecil B. is several years younger. It is not essential to the story but of more than passing interest that "C. B." calls the elder De Mille "son," without any show of resentment by the latter. There is nothing pater- nally patronizing in the way he does it, and I am sure that it is not because techni- cally, as director- g eneral, he is boss. It is bare- ly probable that the real reason is that William has retained more of a semblance of cranial adorn- ment than "C. B." As an object for reclamation work, however; neither has much on the other. "How did we get the big idea?" repeated the elder De Mille as he tapped the bowl of his briar pipe and shoved aside the script upon whic h he was working :n his den way off William De Mille — "son" gelling a photoplay ready in the most secluded corner of the lot. ' "Well, it came gradually but insistently. We of the legitimate stage saw our audi- ences dwindling — the magnet of the 'mov- ies' attracting from the footlights the mil- lions of stage patrons. "First it was the natural impulse of self preservation — then the growing conviction that here was an opportunity for great tilings. The photodrama was to succeed the cheap moving picture. My brother, 'C. B..' came out and did the pioneering. The big idea worked from the very start but it is only a promise of the bigger idea to come." In the interests of the story's sequence. we will leave William C. for the nonce and jump to "C. B." as he — at the start rather unwillingly — "sat for" his part of the in- terview on the big glass stage. He had just completed the last scene of "Carmen" and the lovely Geraldine Farrar had gone to her dressing room to put aside for the last time her guise as a Spanish senorita. "They gave me the laugh when I tried to interest thein in photodrama," be- gan the vounger I) e Mill e. "They" referred to an unnamed group of motion ]> i c t u r e mag- nates. " 'Nothing do- ing on that legit- imate stuff,' they told me. 'T h e stage is one thing and moving pic- tures another.' and thev laughed in unison at the insistence of my suggestions." Right here I want to record the impression that "they" had garnered "C. B.'s" goat. It is dangerous to get the goat o$ a to his younger brother— man who thinks for the council chamber. and twice as dan-
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84 Photoplay Magazine gcrous when it is the goat of two men who co-ordinate in their thinking. There is a whole lot about the drama of which I am densely ignorant but I claim to be an ex- pert on goats and goat-getting. As "C. B." rehearsed that initial scene with eyes that sparkled alternately w i t h chagrin and triumph, I could see with half an eye that "they," back in dear old N'Yawk, had on that occasion copped the younger De Mille goat, rope, tin cans and all. There were sev- eral "retake s" of that original scene with other principals scoffing, before the big De Mille idea found placement. "It was over the cigars at luncheon one day in the hotel Knickerbocker." con- tinued Cecil B. "with Jesse Lasky and Sam Goldfish, h i s brother-in-law. that the idea became aconcrete thing. They were willing to take a chance on the theory that the pub- lic which w o u 1 el stand for the 'mov- ing picture' would pay for real drama. "Our success has been due largely to ignorance. If we Cecil De Mille is the true prophet who spilled his prophecy, then stripped off his coat and made it come true. had been versed in the 'movie' technique of two years ago. I do not believe we could have succeeded. When I came to Los An- geles I knew nothing of the making of films, but I had the big idea. I had seen picture plays that were almost dramas. One touch could have made them dramas. but instead of that touch, there was a kick in the face, and it was farce. "The first Lasky picture which I pro- duced w a s ' T h e Squawman' w i t h Dustin Farnum in the title role. No one but the camera- man had ever had any picture experi- ence, of those who worked on that play in the garage studio. "Ignorance is a wonderful thing when properlv ap- plied." The younger De Mille told me much about his first plays for the screen, how he strove to add the touch of art that was lacking in the plays of other producers ; how he worked out new effects in film- craft in the face of warnings that cer- tain things "can't be done." "Most things can be done," he contin- ued, "and when any- one told me that such and such a thing could not be done, I got someone who could do it. I still follow that same principle. "In using genu- ine sets instead of painted scenery; in having our people speak their lines just as on the stage, a necessity .to correct expression, we believe, we are actuated by the desire to give the public the best in pictures. Fidelity to minor details may in most instances go over the heads of the average audience, but the cumulative effect will be there. General excellence and realism are appreciated even
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The Kick-In Prophets 85 though the technical procedure may not be understood. "As for realism, it is the most insistent demand of the public. The dramatic li- cense of the stage will not be tolerated. The public will not allow us dramatic li- cense. .When a man stabs another with a bayonet, the audience wants to see the bayo- net stick the victim, not pass six inches away. They must al- most see the blood follow it. "As an art photo- drama has advanced wonderfully but the surface lias only been scratched." The elder De Mille likewise believes that the transition period has only begun and that the methods of the "motion picture" must be entirely discarded; that the sce- nario writer with a "drama"-an-hour capac- ity must give way to the trained dramatist. So he has surrounded himself by a corps of playwrights who, like himself, knew nothing of screen play writing or construc- tion before their engagement by the Lasky company. Among them are Miss Marion Fairfax, wife of Tully Marshall and author of "The Builders," "The Talker," and other plays ; Miss Margaret Turnbull, noted dramatist and novelist, and her brother. Hector Turnbull. playwright and former dramatic critic of the New York Tribune. The scenarios turned out by this corps are com- plete, even more so than those prepared for the legitimate stage. Every gesture and every glance, every step taken in the course of Photodrama of the Future I BELIEVE that we have reached the crossroads. On one hand stretches the road to the literature of the past capable of adaptation to the screen; on the other hand the road to the plays and novels of the future, again only the adaptable being considered. The past has been thoroughly covered in the last two years. The future will supply a very small percentage of the material required. There remains then only the broad straight road of the original photodrama, the screen play written for the camera by the expert dramatist with the same care, the same craft, the same dramatic instinct as the play of the stage. In this medium alone will the photodramatic art reach the heights to which it is destined and to which the intelligent public is urging it. WILLIAM C.DE MILLE. the action is prescribed. Nothing is left to the director! He may suggest changes but he cannot make any without first ob- taining the consent of the "inner council." "My brother and I work in absolute harmony," said Wil- liam De Mille in dis- pHOTODRAMATIC direction ■*- has reached the point where the word art is no longer met with shrieks of laughter. The director of the future must be a man of understanding, of human nature and art; a combination of man who can convey power, beauty and drama as a sculptor or painter might portray it, ex- cept that his handiwork must live and breathe and feel. CECIL B. DE MILLE. cussing their methods of operation. "Our work dove-tails, an almost perfect co-or- dination of the writ- ing and producing ends of the business. The most interesting feature of our work is the 'council of war' after the completion of a play, when we pick it to pieces, dis- cover- its faults, plan to avert a repetition of mistakes and oth- erwise improve the next play. "While our experi- ment has succeeded and we have had our meed of praise for our dramas, we realize that the art is in its infancy. We try to make each play better than its predecessor. Certain ideals we closely follow. The Lasky pictures must be clean, containing nothing immoral or suggestive and must be told in clear dramatic manner. "Solon said that speech was the image of action. In our plays the action must portray everything that can be conveyed by speech." The Lasky studio has an atmosphere pretty much its own. It is a much sought atmosphere by actors and actresses, because it is created by a uniformly courteous treat- ment of performers, a dearth of noise and that e lemcnt designated as "rough stuff." You may be sure professional people appreciate this treatment.
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Starting a Picture Show REAL INSIDE INFORMATION AND ADVICE, WITH FACTS AND FIGURES, FROM A SUCCESSFUL EXHIBITOR By Neil G. Caward n MORE money. Magic indeed is the effect of those two words on the average man. Scarcely a human being but will give you his instant attention if he thinks the conversation will result in his learning how to obtain a larger income, without a cor- responding increase in labor. Knowing this to be the case, investment brokers, real estate sharks and unscrupu- lous theater managers, saddled down with a house which they have discovered to be unprofitable, fill the newspapers and maga- zines with wonderful tales of the profits to be made in the motion picture business and particularly in the ex- hibition end. Pick up the morn- ing newspaper in any of our large cities and you'll find col- umns of advertising matter, under the classificat ion of "Business Chances," devoted to glowing descriptions of thea- ters that are for sale because the proprie- tor is "in ill health" or "has to leave the city." All of these theaters, according to the advertisement, are big money mak- ers, ideally located, and the man who takes advantage of the opportunity offered is sure to become a millionaire within a few months. John Jones, or somebody else, who has read the magazine articles about how Carl Laemmle is today worth a billion dollars or so, and yesterday had only a collar but- ton, or how William N. Selisr started life Si/— v— if t£ , . ... &*» -» in an humble way and today owns a studio and menagerie at Los Angeles valued at more than a million, instantly is impressed by the wonderful opportunity, decides to draw that thousand dollars from the sav- ings bank and risk it all in the Palaza thea- ter, located on the corner of Umpteenth Ave. and Broadway. Within a month or six weeks Jones dis- covers that his expenditures are about twice as great as his receipts, that the Palaza. in- stead of being the "gold mine" described in the advertisement, is a "lemon" that will bankrupt him within a few weeks, unless he is fortunate enough to unload it on some- body as inexperienced and unsophisticated as he was on the day that he decided to make a million in the movies. With the idea of getting s o m e first h a n d information about a real theater and learning in detail something about the average operating ex- penses of an average house the writer de- termined to look up his old friend "Bob" Shields, once known the country over as the owner and man- ager of the Shields Stock Company, but now retired to a quiet home in an Illinois town of some five thousand inhabitants, where he had quickly endeared himself to the natives by establishing and operating the Metropolitan theater, a house of twelve hundred seats devoted to the celluloid drama. Bob was found leaning comfortably back in the easv chair in his box office, en-
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Starting a Picture Show 87 joying a good perfecto and the latest news of the movie industry in the columns of his favorite trade journal. After a brief dis- cussion of old times the writer sought to get a rise out of his showman friend by declaring that he had just learned at the hotel that Bill. Hicks, until last week pro- prietor of the town's largest meat market, had sold out and was going to lease the empty store down on the cor- ner of Elm and Main streets and convert it into a movie house. As anticipated, the news surprised Bob, but after a puff or two at his perfecto he laughed and said, "Well, well, so we've got some competition at last, have we? I knew it had to come, sooner or later. Run- ning the only movie in town was too soft to continue indefinitely. Wonder how much Hicks has got to lose?" "Then you already figure him as a loser?" I inquired. "Seems likely, since he don't know any- thing about the picture game, but I'm dead sure he'll have to spend a bundle of money if he's going to make any kind of a noise against the Metropolitan. However, I shan't worry much until Mr. Hicks gets his show to going, and perhaps not even then, if he's starting on a shoestring, as I more than half suspect." "I was told at the hotel that he realized about twelve hundred on his meat market," I volunteered. "Yes, and I suppose he thinks that'll give him a flying start," laughed Shields. "My boy, I've seen a lot of them try it in the past but there isn't one in ten that suc- ceeds, unless he has capital behind him, so that he's fortified against slumps in busi- ness, rainy nights and cut-throat competi- tion." "Then you don't believe twelve hundred will enable Hicks to start?" "I doubt if he can even open on twelve hundred," rasped Shields. "Here, I'll show you," went on the manager of the Metropolitan as he dragged a sheet of scratch paper over onto the slide of his desk and reached in his pocket for a lead pencil. "To begin with he'll have to get some seats, won't he? To have them look like anything at all, he'll have to pay about two-seventy-five apiece for .them, and from A good theatre manager must be a good business man. For after all a mov- ie theatre is just a busi- ness with amusement and seats for sale instead of dry goods or groceries. the size of the store you say he's going to make into a movie house, he'll crowd in about three hundred at the outside. Three hundred times two-seventy-five is eight hundred and twenty-five dollars," figured Shields aloud. "That twelve hundred is going fast," I commented. "Huh," snorted Shields, "we haven't got started yet. Take this house of mine. Its even thousand seats cost me three dollars apiece and I got them at a discount. Well, Hicks will get a screen of the customary size for about one hundred and fifty dollars and then he'll need about six of these big chandeliers for his indirect light- ing system and he can't get them for a cent less than two hundred dollars. Some wall lights with the proper shades will set him back another thirty dollars and a big electric sign in front of his lobby will add another seventy-five dollars." "All gone," I stated, referring to the twelve hundred. "I nearly forgot a projector," murmured Shields, "that will cost him two hundred and seventy-five dollars with all the fix- ings, and he really ought to have two in- stead of one. Why, here at the Met I've got two of the latest models and the two set me back just nine hundred dollars, but they are worth every cent of it, for the show is continuous and you never hear our patrons talking about poor projection. Why, only last week one of my nightly patrons told me that the pictures here at the Met were as good as they have in Chi- cago, so I guess we aren't so far behind the times, even if we do live in the country. "And then will come the license," added Shields as he set down another hundred dollars in his table of figures, "for Hicks will have to pay the city clerk his license before he'll be permitted to open. Let's add it up now and see where Mr. Hicks gets off." Silence pervaded the box office while Shields ran his pencil down the col- umns and put down a neat little $1,655 at the bottom as he finished. "Let's just suppose that he does get nicely started," went on Shields, "because he might have more capital than we sus- pect. When he opens the show he'll have to pay in advance at least thirty-five dollars
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88 Photoplay Magazine per week to the film exchange for rental before they will ship him his first 'show.' and in order to meet the big features we're running here at the Met three nights a week, they will talk him into at least one big feature additional to his regular pro- gram, for about- — oh. call it twenty-five dollars. That's sixty dollars a week just for film alone. Besides that he'll need a cashier at $10. an operator at $20, a pianist at $15, an usher at $5. and he'll easily spend $10 or $15 for paper and advertis- ing. He'll be mighty lucky if he gets that store for $100 a month rent, but let's sup- pose that he can and that'll make $25 more per week to add to his running expenses. Adding all that up, makes $150 a week for Mr. Hicks before he can show a nickel's profit, and I forgot to include any 'juice' bills, and expense money for repairs to the projection machine, new carbons, rolls of tickets, express charges on his film ship- ments or things like that." "According to your figures he'll have to play almost two full shows a night to break even?" I hazarded. "At ten cents a head and a nickel for the kids, even though he plays a full house and a half everv night in the week, he'll only be taking in about $180 or $200 a week, and by the time his bills are all paid : ■ ■:■'■■■ ■ ■' , - . >-■ ■ % ' v..: . Duffy is running a lot of society stuff and the Spring Brook people, typical rustics, don t know what it's about. and the interest on his investment deducted he'll starve to death. Many is the night the old Met has shown less than $30 at the box office, in spite of the fact that it has been the only show in town, and one week, during a rainy spell we had, the whole week showed only $150. Of course, though, when the business is good we get the money. During Fair week, for instance, and again when the Firemen's Carnival was on. I took in more than $175 a night and by run- ning matinees on Saturdays, when the farmers are all in town. I crowded the week's receipts up around the thousand dollar mark." "Yes. but look at your seating capacity," I exclaimed. "That's the answer," said Shields. "Hicks will probably see the time when he'll really be 'holding 'em out,' because he's only got three hundred seats altogether and there'll be somebody sitting in every one of them. That is one thing the Met don't have to worry about. With our thou- sand seats we can take care of everybody and there is no waiting line, except weeks like the Fair when everybody in town is trying to get into the house at the same time. It's just that question of having to wait that ruins many a house. The public is a queer animal. They pile into a show like a flock of sheep if they can get in while they're in the mood, but keep them waiting, even a few minutes, and they get peevish and go on about something else and try as you will you can't get them started for your show again." "Probably Hicks would give up bis idea of starting a show if he overheard the talk you have just given me." ' wfifc • i mm . lis?
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Starting a Picture Show 89 "Maybe you're right," agreed Shields. "But that's what puts the motion picture business in the wrong light. A lot of men like this Hicks take it into their heads to start a show. They dope it out for them- selves or somebody tells them that they can make a million dollars by starting a picture theater, and even though they don't know a thing about the picture game they hock the family jewels, sell out the only business they know anything about or borrow a few thousand and start in. After dropping their capital and finding they are head over heels in debt in a business that they don't understand they close up the house, disap- pear, and the consequence is another nut is loose to declare 'the day of the motion pic- ture is over.' If they would only stop and consider things just a little before they started, the papers would be about half as full of ads of theaters for sale, and there would be only about half as many knockers as there are at present." "I believe you're right." "Sure I'm right," admitted Shields, "but more than, half of them wouldn't believe you if you told them in advance what was going to happen. They think you are try- ing to keep them out because you don't want them to become as rich as you are, or put a crimp in your business. Every time though that one of these know-it-all chaps starts a house that proves to be a flivver it hurts the whole picture industry. 1 1 keeps the honest motion picture exhibitor from making the profits he ought to make and to which he is entitled, and makes the film exchanges about twice the work they ought to have, because they have to keep such close watch on their customers." "Frankly then you don't believe Mr. Hicks or anybody else with limited capital has a chance to succeed?" I asked. "I wouldn't want to go so far as to say that. For. provided a chap really knows something about the film game ; provided he knows the kind of patrons he is going to cater to ; provided he has enough money to finance his show and expects to spend the most of it in establishing himself, he might be successful. I wouldn't want to discourage anybody from taking a whirl at the pictures, just so long as he under- stands from the beginning what he is going against. That's the main difficulty. Lots of them believe all they have to do is to rent a film, open the front door and begin to take in the money. A good theater man- ager, one who is successful in a big way. has got to be first of all a good business man, for, after all, the show game is just a business, with amusements and seats for sale instead of dry goods and groceries." "I never thought of it in that way." "No, and there are a lot more to whom it never occurred," answered Shields. "Once your business is established, you have your films and your theater equipped, the next thing is to get your customers. Every merchant has to advertise, but about three exhibitors out of every four will laugh at you if you mention advertising to Smith at the swell sum- mer resort is running blood and thunder stuff, for plutocrats who are dying to see Ethel Clayton, and Clara Young. a-. <• ; *4J SBUBM. *: -V? .-. r-'
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90 Photoplay Magazine them. The fellow who hangs out a three sheet in front of his house and expects to be mobbed by the people trying to get in is going to die in the poorhouse. But look at us here in the Met. Take the nights when we have something special on and the days when we have a full page ad in the Daily Bugle. Why little Jessie, out here in the box office, is busier than a one eyed dog in a sausage factory, handing out the pasteboards, making change and wear- ing a smile for them all — " "Yes. but you give the public such good films — " I countered. "Yes, because we give them what they want. There's a whole lot to that you can be sure. Take Duffy, over in Spring Brook, for instance. He is running a lot of so-called features, but it is all society stuff and the people over at Spring Brook, which is a typical rural community, don't know what it is all about. If he would give them Charley Chaplin and a rip roaring old melodrama once in awhile he would be holding them out every night. Smith, over at Owatonka. the swell summer resort, is just as big a boob. He's running blood and thunder serials, cowboy and Indian stuff, and trying to coax a lot of plutocrats into his house who are dying to see Ethel Clayton and Clara Young. You have got to study your patrons and find out what they want to see. That is the secret of success and the exhibitors that are doing it are the ones who are taking their money to the bank by the wagonload." "There is a lot to being a manager, isn't there?" I asked, as a capper to the cross- examination. "Well there is a lot more than just un- locking the front door and counting up the house," admitted Shields. "But I don't want you or anybody else to think that just because I have scoffed at Hicks and his chances of success that a real smart show- man, with plenty of capital, can't succeed, because he can. There are people still un- born who will make a million in the movies, but take it from me it will be because they know the game before thev start." The Sky's the Roof Here r HE problem of ventilation has been met in the Princess Theater, Meridan, Miss., in an ingenious and effective manner. An opening was cut in the roof, and equipped with sliding leaves, con- trolled by a three-horsepower motor. Thus, on fair nights the auditorium may be thrown open to the sky. In case of a sudden shower it requires but a few moments to roll the leaves together, closing the opening. The accompanying picture illustrates the operation of the device, which has been patented.
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THE MARRIAGE OF KITTY *By Editk HuniitiJton Mason HOW MASKED BEAUTY STORMS AND TAKES A YOUNG LORD'S HEART AND FORTUNE Illustrated from the Lasky Film JACK CHURCHILL was the sort of fellow who passes for a gentleman among stable hoys, and for a stable boy among gentlemen. It was his gift for cards, which made him welcome in London's most exclusive clubs, unless per- haps it was the fact that he was brother to Mine. Helen tie Semiano. the most pop- ular actress at the Gaiety. "How-de-do Belsize?" he said airily, as a tall, well-built young Englishman entered the reading room of the Excelsior Club, — ■ where he sat waiting. The other shook hands, courteously, and led the way to the grill room, managing in typically British fashion to fill the duties of host without so much as uttering a word. "I have some news for you, Churchill." he said at length, when they had ordered dinner, "I'm goin' to be in a position to repay you every shilling I owe you. before very long." Churchill's laugh was almost a sneer. He had heard that promise, always made in the future tense, so often. "Inherited money, or something?" he inquired. "Yes," his lordship replied politely "an uncle of mine in America, died an left me something like five hundre; thousand pounds." The gambler's jaw dropped, and. somewhat to Belsize's astonishment he looked thoroughly dismayed. The youn peer could not know that the picture this announcement called tip in his guest's mind, was Churchill's inter- view with Mine, de Semiano at the theatre not an hour earlier. "What's the use of a title without a shilling to support it on?" Churchill heard himself saving to the actress. "You'd better stop wasting your time on Belsize. he isn't big enough game." And his sister's answer came back to him. as he stared at Belsize with sickening significance. "Don't worry, Jackie. I'm just amusing myself. I know as well as you do that it must be a title and a fortune for little me !" His perturbation was increased by his host's next words. "Of course you are. ah-aware. Churchill. of my devotion to your sister. That's one thing 1 wanted to speak to you about. I haven't had money enough to ask her to marry me before, but" — his ingenuous. young face brightened, "I'm going to ask lier tonight .'" It spoke well for the gambler's self con- trol that tinder stress of emotion, he did not leap from his chair. Great Heavens, this Here was Belsize planning was a mess . to ask Helen to marrv What if Belsize should find that in- stead of a homely country girl, his wife was beautiful and cultured I
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92 Photoplay Magazine him, and Helen ignorant of the informa- tion in her brother's possession, — deter- mined to refuse him ! Churchill felt he would give a vear of his life for one word with her in private. Hut that, unfortunately, proved very hard to obtain. Nothing must do for Bel- size but that his future brother-in-law, should accompany him to the theatre to see Helen act, and afterward go with him to Helen's apartment, when he intended to put the great question. "If she sees you're for me." said the simple-minded young peer, "she'll be more likely to accept me!" In vain Jack pleaded excuses, — his host was firm, and he was perforce obliged to let him carry out his program. He managed to scribble a note to Helen during the performance but the fear that Belsize would suspect something, prevented him from sending it behind the scenes. The evening passed in torture for him. At last, when the show was finished, in des- peration he invited his distinguished pat- rons to have a drink by way of celebrating his good fortune. 1 1 was w h i 1 e Belsize w a s ex- plaining the in- gredients o f a new h i g h ball. that Churchill found the oppor- tunity to slip the note into the hand of an attendant. " You're a wonder with the brush. Pa," said the girl happily. He must have accompanied the scrap of paper with sufficient inducement, — for Mine, de Semiano received it, not ten min- utes later. She had just time to don a welcoming smile and a gorgeous negligee which performed to a nicety the duty of showing off her many charms, — when her brother and the earl arrived. They say there is nothing in the world like being loved for yourself alone, and young Belsize, his line Anglo-Saxon face aglow, looked down with pride at the hand- some woman by his side as they stood by the rail of the great steamer which was leaving the dock at South Hampton. Mme. de Semiano had been so surprised, when he told her of his newly inherited wealth the moment she had promised him her hand, and she had been so prettily hesitant about accepting the responsibility of sharing so much money, — he had been anxious to marry her at once. But her brother's advice had prevailed. Churchill thought it better to interview first, the lawyer in New York who had charge of Belsize's affairs. However, he had permitted Helen, chaperoned by him- self and the old tiring woman at the the- atre, who was serving her as maid, — to ac- company her fiance that they might be married as soon as possible. Jack's caution proved justifiable. When the party arrived at the- Long Island country place where the lawyer. Stephen Silverton, was living, they found an unpleasant surprise awaiting them. Belsize's uncle, it appeared, had cherished all his life a prejudice against the stage, arid in making his will, had included a clause to the effect that his nephew might in- herit the money
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The Marriage of Kitty 93 only on condition that he did not marry an actress, Great was the consternation in the Churchill camp! Helen indeed, was quite unable to control her chagrin. Belsize had led her across the ocean on a wild-goose chase, she declared, he had known of the condition of the will all the time. — she was going to return to London and marry Sandy McC'lane. her stage manager, who had loved her all his life ! This outburst should h a v e warned the peer as to the temper of his betrothed, but his feeling for her had always held a hint of fear. — so instead of taking offense, he bent his energies to the task of reassuring her. "Don't take on so," he implored. "Don't be vexed with me! Th lawyer will arrange it for us, some how, won't you, Mr. Silverton?" Mr. Silverton rather thought he could. Hut they must leave him to think it out. Would Mrae. de Semiano like to see the garden? If they returned in half an hour he would have a plan to get around the will. That was his specialty, getting around wills. He laughed a fat, hearty laugh. The actress, heavy browed and sullen threw herself into a hammock, when they reached the garden. "I'm going to stay here." she may do as you please !" Lord Belsize did as he pleased. Mme. de Semiano was very handsome, and of course he was in love with her, but when she was in that mood ! . . . He strolled away down the path and looked about with appreciation at the wildness of the old lawyer's garden, and the un-English look of the clematis growing everywhere, the un- trimmed lilac bushes, the tangle of passion Mowers on the gate. A vision crossed his path, a vision in pink gingham with a rose-colored parasol and a laugh in the corner of her wide blue eye. She was so little, so enticing, so dainty, that before he knew it, a traitorous sigh of satisfaction escaped the lover of Helen de Semiano. The man who did not respond to that smile was a cad. But where had she vanished to? Must be un- derground passages in that garden ! Why had he been so slow ! " But you know my name is not Silver- ton/' she said, vou A voice from a distant hammock hob- bled his passion for exploration, and he re- turned very slowly, much occupied with the discovery that there was more than one woman in the world. The lawyer had called them into the house, Helen informed him. How large and heavy she was after all. he thought. It was undoubtedly true that Stephen Silverton had his own fish to fry when he suggested to his clients, his plan for en- abling Belsize to marry the woman of his choice. Belsize must first go through a marriage ceremony with a woman not of the theatrical profession, Silverton said. — some one who would consent for a cash sum, to be deserted immediately after the ceremony and subsequently divorced. He was a kindly man, was Silverton, and a well intentioned one. His greatest weak ness, as he admitted himself, was gambling on the stock exchange. To say that he- was worried by the failure of his most re- cent venture, which unfortunately had in- volved his daughter Kitty's inheritance from her grandmother, was to underesti- mate his feelings. He had meant, of course, only to double her money, and this good intention had made it seem justifiable to risk it. without his daughter's knowledge. Hut the result had been none the less fatal.
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94 Photoplay Magazine A cry stayed them in the act, and Helen de Semiano laid a fierce hand on the young man's arm. Why wasn't this tangle about the young Englishman and his uncle's will the very chance Mr. Silverton had been looking for, to recoup the lost fortune? If he could persuade Katherine to act the part of the pseudo wife, lie knew he could shake Bel- size down for a good round sum, and Kath- erine's money could be restored and no- body be the wiser. Belsize and Churchill took to the plan at once, but Helen had a stipulation to make. The woman engaged to play the part of the wife must have absolutely no claims to beauty. Belsize was temporarily won back to his old allegiance to the actress, by this pretty display of jealousy and with much laughter and many kisses, agreed to her suggestion. The matter of finding the girl was left to Silverton, and it was arranged that on the following afternoon, the whole party meet again for the purpose of carrying through the wedding ceremony. Silverton found, that after all he had no trouble in persuading Kitty to oblige him in the matter. What she would not have done if she had known a money considera- tion was involved, she did for the sake of the young Englishman, of whom, she told her father, she had caught a glimpse in the garden. She had also, she said, seen the lady in the hammock. "And I know," declared Kitty, with a look of wisdom that sat ab- surdly on her innocent young face, "I know that creature is marrying the poor boy for his money ! But perhaps we can save him. Pa. In the six months' time that must pass before he can get a divorce from me, he will have a chance to wake up !" It was a gorgeous summer day. Up- stairs in Kitty Silverton's room, all was ex- citement. Mr. Silverton in his shirt sleeves was holding his daughter by her pretty chin, and with an anxious squint on his cherubic face, was endeavoring with a brushful of sepia, to paint out, one of the girl's milk white teeth ! "It won't do to let them recognize you," he said, "and then of course that harpy downstairs," he indicated with a dripping brush, the living room below, "stipulated that the woman engaged, must be homely. And sav — " he whirled Kittv toward the
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The Marriage of Kitty 95 mirror delightedly, "don't you think even she ought to be satisfied?" They burst into laughter at sight of the hunched figure in the glass, with its plain black frock, its fluffy hair screwed back from the forehead in stiff pigtails, the blackened tooth, . and skillfully sallowed complexion. "You're a wonder with the brush, Pa !" declared the young lady happily. The ceremony was quickly over and no hint of the deception practiced upon them having leaked out, Belsize and his party motored away from the house quite content. The bride had been ugly enough even to satisfy Helen de Semiano. If distance lends enchantment, how often is it true that close inspection breeds dis- illusionment. Mme. de Semiano, during the six months wait necessary to obtaining the divorce for desertion, went to visit some relatives just outside of New York, and it was there her fiance was obliged to visit her. It was not many weeks, however, be- fore his aristocratic blood revolted at the familiarities of his future wife's relatives. Their use of his first name, shortened to "Reggie," became intolerable, and the fact that American democracy prompts Amer- ican citizens to address even royalty, with- out ceremony, did not at all ameliorate his disgust. The climax came when he accidentally overheard his future wife, discussing in her bedroom, with her maid, the relative ad- vantages of marrying himself or Sandy Mr.Clane — the stage manager at the Gaiety. "Sandy has more sense in his little finger than that long legged Belsize has in his whole carcass," he distinctly heard Helen say, "but of course his lordship has the coin!" A laugh followed. Thoroughly disillusioned, the young peer resolved to be rid of the whole situation, and to consult Lawyer Silverton as to the possibility of getting out of his bargain without a breach of promise suit. In the meantime. Helen's brother. Jack Churchill, had made a discovery. With his usual talent for such business, he had wormed his way into the Long Island set, which included Kitty Silverton and her father. Attractive and personable enough, he had been taken up by a crowd of fast young married people who were fond of playing Bridge for high stakes. That he should meet Kitty Silverton. here and there, was natural, but did not serve to enlighten him as to the fact that this popular and radiant young personage was the same girl who had gone through the marriage cere- mony with his sister's fiance. That shock was reserved for an evening at the hotel when the Saturday night cos- tume dance was given. He was dancing with a young matron of sociable disposition and fast reputation, when a girl entered the room, dressed in a short black frock, with her hair in two stiff pigtails, and one- front tooth blackened out. "That's Belsize's wife, poor devil," he said to himself, at sight of her, but was thunderstruck to be informed by his part- ner that it was Kitty Silverton, the prettiest girl in that neighborhood. The secret was out ! Full of foreboding. Churchill got himself to a telegraph office, and sent his sister a come-at-once sum- mons. What if Belsize should discover that his wife, instead of being a homely country slattern, was a beautiful and cul- tured girl? He felt the need of feminine diplomacy. It was just a coincidence that the same train which took Helen to Long Island to visit her brother, took Belsize to Long Island to see Lawyer Silverton, but it was an annoying one to the young peer. He couldn't imagine what her errand was, and feared it might be in some way connected with himself. He shuddered at the thought that he might not be able to free himself from his bargain. The two passed the jour- ney in elaborate efforts to avoid being seen by one another — although humorously enough, each had observed the other at its outset. As a draught of water to the thirsty soul was Belsize's encounter with the law- yer's daughter, in the garden of Long Island villa. It was there he had met her first, he remembered, and realized suddenly, that her image as she had appeared that clay had been with him subconsciously ever since. How fitting that his second view of her should also be with a garden for a background ! One always connected her with flowers ! "Good afternoon, Miss Silverton," he said : "is your father at home?" Kitty looked the young Englishman over, a cool second, before she answered, and then finding him as much to her lik- ine as she had found him the first time she
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96 Photoplay Magazine saw him, replied with a mischievous smile : "1 think he is!" Then a devil of im- prudence seized upon her. -"But of course you know my name is not Miss Silverton," she said. Belsize was confused. Had he jumped to conclusions? The lawyer had said something about a daughter — His step fell in naturally beside her little, white-shod feet. "What is your name, then?" he asked. Ah, what allure, what winning, resistless charm there was in the girl's voice as she answered : "If you really want to know," she said, "it is Lady Kitty Belsize!" It generally took a bomb to startle the Englishman out of his composure ! "Lady Kitty Belsize?" he repeated. "Good God, you're never my wife?" "Yes," she laughed. "But fear not! You must love pretty Kitty, her heart is so warm, and if you don't hurt her she'll do you no harm!" Then she placed the tip of a finger on one milk white front tooth, and with her other hand swept free two braids of fluffy golden hair, and pulled them tightly back from her forehead. In an instant the young man had a vision of the woman with whom he had gone through the marriage ceremony in the house behind him — not many weeks ago. He saw that that homely creature, and this radiant one before him, miraculously enough, were one and the same being, and the conviction filled him with such joy that there was no room for curiosity as to the reason for the deception practiced upon him. "You wonderful, wonderful child!" he stammered, and then, suddenly himself again, threw his arms about her. "A man may kiss his wife, I suppose," he said. A cry stayed them in the act. An alien presence unrelated to gardens, and sweet- hearting and kisses, stepped from behind a lilac bush, and Helen de Semiano laid a fierce hand upon the young man's arm. Her visit with her brother had been illuminating as to what she had to fear in Belsize's wife, and had sent her post haste to the Silverton cottage, where in- stinct told her Belsize had gone direct from the train. "What do you mean?" she cried shrilly, "what do you mean, Belsize ; have you for- gotten that you have a fiancee?" Belsize bowed to the angry woman, as if she had been a queen. "No, madam." he said, "I have not for- gotten, but I must also remember that, thanks to you, I have a wife ! Allow me to present Lady Kitty Belsize!" An angry scatter of pebbles on the path was the only reply the discomfited actress made. Standing in the lilac filled garden, watched over lovingly by the passion flower at the gate, man and wife took from each other the first kiss of their long delayed honevmoon. The Record Kiss CHRONICLERS of achievements ^d'amour will please get out their tabulat- ing pencils ; Lorraine Huling. a young clus- ter of Thanhouser fascination, has busted the long-distance kiss record. And she has yet a year to go before she will be 'teenless. She was playing a scene opposite Boyd Marshall. It was Mr. Marshall's delight- ful duty to gather Miss Huling in and im- print a regular right swing of a kiss upon her petaled mouth. He did. And before the kiss broke, the film broke. Marshall heard the short strip of cellu- loid rattling through the camera, and he gave Director Piatt a barely imperceptible sign. "Hold it !" cried Piatt, comprehending. Lawrence Williams, cameraman, did his share to promote happiness by changing magazines as slowly as he knew how, and thus it came about that Mr. Marshall, while still in the flesh, spent exactly six minutes in heaven — a privilege allegedly not ac- corded mortals since the days of the apostles. So, who dares say that there are no miracles in the picture game ?
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Charlie Chaplin luxuriating on the cushions, with Edna Purviance, his new leading lady at the wheel. Charlie Chaplin's Story THE FUNNY MAN AS A SERIOUS, SYSTEMATIC DIRECTOR, ALIVE TO THE GRAVE MECHANICS OF COMICS By Harry C. Carr Illustrations by E. W. Gale. Jr. CONCLUSION YOU often hear wise moving picture fans tell how Charlie Chaplin pro- duces a picture by just dashing out anything that comes into his head. Yes indeed ! Chaplin dashes through a scenario just about the way a watchmaker dashes through the work of repairing a re- peater. All these uproariously funny Chap- lin farces have been made slowlv and pain- fully. Chaplin never works from a regularly "written out" scenario. He gets a general idea, then slowly patches it together after getting the actors in front of the camera. Most of the scenarios are his own stuff. He says he thinks of them as he walks along the street, or in cafes, or any old where. Most of the time. Chaplin seems abstracted and as far away as in a dream. This is because he is usually manufacturing some moving picture story. He says he got one of the best hunches he ever had while eating lunch. It struck him so suddenly that he almost went out without paying the check. The scenario for "His Trysting Place" came from an old comic song that Chap- lin's father sang in vaudeville years ago. Once he has possession of the hunch. Chaplin begins directing the piece. His methods in this are as eccentric as are all his other ways. Chaplin plants himself in a chair just out of range of the camera. As he always acts in the piece he is directing, he always wears his stage costume. He pulls the dinky little derby down over his eyes, spraddles his big shoes out in front of him and the actors begin. Chaplin lets them do their comedy just as they please as long as they please him — • which is about five seconds, usually. He sits and watches them with an expression which seems to say, "Good Lord, and these guys are getting money for doing this!" Then when he can't stand it any longer he jumps up and shows them how to do it. He very rarely tells them what to do ; he shows them. The result is that every part in every Charlie Chaplin piece is acted 97
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98 Photoplay Magazine During the ivaits Chaplin fools around and pulls come of his funniest comedy. While producing "His Pre- historic Past" he broke up business at the nearby Ince Ranch with an imitation of a circus snake charmer. by Charlie Chaplin himself. As he goes along, he makes almost innumerable changes and corrections. As he practically writes his scenarios after the acting has be- gun, it is intensely nervous work. It is as hard to get a chance to see him at work as it is to get into a lodge meeting. But to show you the instinctive kindness of the man, the other day two little street boys were found peeking in under the fence. One of the supers was going to d r i v e them a w a y but Charlie called them in. There happened to be a lull in the proceedings, so he pretended to direct them in a comedy. To their delight, he put them through a little impromptu scenario. And it was noted that he was just as careful in directing their stuff as his own. The gen- eral public, he refused to admit to the studio, thereby differing from some directors, who seem happiest when a crowd is looking on. A very important and rather arduous part of picture work is se- lecting the "locations." In most companies this is the job of the assist- ant directors. Chaplin, however, does all his own searching for loca- He could no more be serious than a faun. tions. However, it must be said that most of his locations are simple and easy to find. In moving picture work, a great deal of time is wasted while the camera men are fixing the light shields, and other necessary contrivances. During this time, the actors are left to their own devices. Chaplin fools around during these periods and uncon- sciously pulls some of his funniest comedy. While lie was still with Keystone, they went down to the Ince ranch to produce that prehistoric film in which a great snake pulled "Ambrose" up a cliff. They had a whole basket of snakes down on the beach. While they were wait- ing to begin, Chaplin started to juggling with the snakes in imi- tation of a circus snake charmer. It was so f u n n y that it nearly broke up the business of the numerous Ince companies for the day. Chaplin, like many of the big directors, is a great waster of film. He never leaves a situ- ation until he is thor- oughly satisfied with it and he is hard to sat- isfy. He is very much given to re-takes, which is the most expensive habit in the movies. It is plain to the
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Charlie Chaplin's Story 99 careful observer that Chaplin is working toward something entirely new in pictures. Iri a general way, his idea is that comedy should be more subtle and have more real story, although the horse-play antics he in- dulges in make that idea hardly credible. He made the greatest advance in this direction in "The Tramp." In this, there was not only a real story, but a touch of real pathos which gave Chaplin a chance for the greatest "finish" that has ever been shown in any movie comedy. I think every one who saw it will agree with me on that point. Chaplin's idea is that one of the old style rough comedies gives absolutely no chance for real effects. When the paperhanger has spilled paste down the back of the dude and somebody has been pushed off into the lake, the comedy has been exhausted. Plays like "The Tramp" open up all kinds of chances for contrasts, — lights and shade. He does many things now because he believes "the public wants them so" — and for no other reason. Chaplin also believes that scenarios will be longer. He is a great admirer of "The Birth of a Nation." He saw that play nearly every week during its long run in Los Angeles. His idea is that comedies will also come to the point where one funny film provides a whole evening's entertain- ment. "Tillie's Punctured Romance" he believes an example of this tendency. He has two reasons for wanting to put on longer plays. One is that it will give more time in which to carefully work out his effects. The greatest reason is that he can produce the same financial returns without appearing so often. Chaplin is of the opinion that it is taking an awful chance with his popularity to be shown in a new comedy every week or so. We see Maude Adams at long intervals — once a year, perhaps, and we are eager to see her. But would we be so keen if we could see her in four or five different plays the same night in the same town? As Chaplin says, this is a terrific test of popularity. In the meantime, however, his popularity continues to increase to a veritable craze. When Charlie Chaplin goes to a summer resort near Los Angeles, it is like the tri- umphant visit of a king. it is an open secret that Chaplin doesn't expect to be in the pictures long. "1 want to make all the money I can." he says. "Then, in a few years, I am going to quit. I will pass along and let some other fellow have the center of the stage. I have made a bigger hit than I ever thought possible in my wildest dreams. And I am much obliged to everyone for laughing. For the public is the entertain- er's court of last appeal." That Charlie Chaplin is a born actor, entertainer, clown and buffoon, not only while posing before the camera, but from the time he rises in the morning till he goes to sleep at night — generally late at night — is the sum of the opinions of his colleagues at Niles, with whom he worked for months. Some of these actors and actresses, as is the way with stage folk, do not speak very highly of Chaplin's "art," yet all of them recognize that there is some sort of mad genius in the little chap who has made the whole country laugh at his antics. As for Chaplin himself he stoutly contends that it takes as much conscientious preparation for a comedv as for the so-called higher art. Worn ■£»'■ i 1 1 1 \\ • _■ The midnight concerts at Niles will live long in the memories of those who heard them.
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100 Photoplay Magazine Squeezing a BOFFftLO NICKEL until the Boll jt$ ! 4ft Now for a few instances to prove the above verdict of his colleagues : Five or six months ago. the Essanay company decided that Chaplin ought to have a madcap partner of the opposite sex to hurl through his dizzy series of utterly illogical exploits. Chaplin and his man- agers had the whole field of musical comedy, comic opera, comic drama, and burlesque. The golden megaphone of the Essanay company could summon any- one of a thousand or two of sprightly young women with lots of stage experi- e n c e. praised and petted in public — and funny! "Let's jus t.put an ad in the paper," suggested Chaplin, scratching his curly po 1 1. "Let's get some new blood in the game." The following morning there was a small personal ad- vertisement in o n e of the San Fran- cisco papers, offer- ing a position in the "movies" to a young girl without previous stage ex- perience. During the next week or two, Chaplin looked over more than a thousand fair ap- plicants. The cat was out of the bag. The stage struck young women of San Francisco knew that Chaplin was looking for a girl to play against him, and the com- petition became hysterical. Chaplin, unaided, selected one. Miss Edna Purviance, who did not know even the alphabet of the stage business. She has made good. She has appeared in a number of reels with Chaplin, offering an excellent foil for him. There were some heartaches at Niles, but the work of the new film actress convinced both actors and Chaplin's employes that he knew some- thin" about the show business which thev Chaplin's thrift is excelled by none and equalled only by that ivell known coin preserver, Harry Lauder, A had never suspected in one so guileless. "How the Dickens did he manage to do it?"' asked one of the veteran comedians at Niles. "That job of picking a new woman is one of the tricks of the trade which an- cient and honorable managers have spent scores of years in mastering." The selection of Miss Purviance might, of course, be explained as a lucky accident, a lottery chance. But then there is Dick T u r p i n w h o m Chaplin selected for important parts in his reels. Turpin is almost as funny as Chaplin himself and divided honors with him in several film comedies. Here w a s another instance of C h a p- lin's astuteness. His ability to pick win- ners was further shown recently in the selection of Bud Jamieson, with whom the comedi - an recently became acquainted in San Francisco. Jamie- son is big. fat, gen- ial, j o 1 1 y. and an excellent musician, but he had never been on the stage till Chaplin and his associates invited him to Niles, not for the purpose of entering the "mov- ies." 1) u t just to a muse the player sort of court-jester to folk out there! the jester-royal "This guy is good." remarked Chaplin to the boss of the Niles film ranch. "He's handed me a bunch of laughs. I'll bet he can make other people laugh." Bud Jamieson was pulled from his piano and given small roles in the Chaplin come- dies. He made an instant hit. and he is doing well at present. At Niles they say that Chaplin's thrift in money matters is excelled by none, and (.quailed only by that well known Scotch coin preserver, Harry Lauder.
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Charlie Chaplin's Story 101 "Chaplin has got some of the oldest money in California," said one of his col- leagues at Niles. "He never had a bank account till he joined the Essanay, and in a few years he'll be selling at a pre- mium the coin he received as his first week's salary. H e didn't know how to make out a bank ac- count till a few months ago, and he didn't know how to draw a check. One of the boys offered to show him how to make out a check. Chaplin watched him a few moments, and then shut his eyes tight, and turned away. "I don't want to learn. -I don't want to learn." "But he is learn- ing how to write a check," said another movie actor. "I saw him write a check once." "You did?" yelled a chorus of doubt- ing actors and actresses. "I did. It was on April 21, or was it March 21? Well, anyhow, it was on the twenty-first of some month. I remember because Chaplin wrote the date 21//;!" Most of the film actors at Niles live in cottages. Chaplin occupied a cottage with one of the actors, and at first bade fair to become a popular member of the colony, but that was before he brought his "Tabby" to Niles. One day he returned from San Francisco in great glee carrying under his arm a battered violin case. The same night he began to make night life in Niles hid- eous with the mournful strains which he tortured out of an ancient and disreputable violin. The film folk promptly likened Chaplin's playing to the wailing of an old tabby-cat on a back fence at midnight, mourning over a misspent life. The music- ally inclined actors aver that Chaplin has assassinated more tunes on his violin than a score of German street bands. There was some talk of dipping the film star and his "Tabby" into the bay. but nothing came of it. The plotters evidently remembered He knows how to pick ivmners. that Tabbies have nine lives. The actors recovered their sense of humor, and when the wailing, discordant notes of Chaplin's fiddle broke the rustic evening stillness, they joined in a lu- gubrious chorus, each voice a semi- tone out of tune. Chaplin's habits are mostly those of a bat. Those who know him best say he would never go to bed if he could have his own way about it. He is by nature "a sun dodger," according to his companions. He has never been k n o w n to y a w n after sunset, b u t none of the other characteristics of a night hawk are his. He does not drink. In fact, his dissipa- tion is confined to turning day into night and smoking. But sleep or no sleep, Char- lie Chaplin has never been known to show the lack of slumber the next day. • When the Australian Boys' Club which has been visiting the Exposition and the Pacific coast and Canada came to Niles, Chaplin pre- sented himself unannounced. He was im- mediately recognized by one of the lads who had seen him in pictures in the An- tipodes. "There is Charlie Chaplin !" shouted the boy, and Chaplin found himself surrounded by the youngsters. The comedian went through all his favorite poses, relieved the bandmaster of his baton, and led the band, going through his whole repertoire of an- tics. It was an awful concert, for the boys could not play their instruments and laugh at Chaplin at the same time. The boys gave him three Kangaroo cheers when tin- concert was finished, and Chaplin returned the compliment by presenting each of the lads with his autographed photograph. The Hotel Oakland was made the scene of one of Chaplin's comedies. Out of a side entrance staggered Chaplin one sunny morning in a terribly disheveled condition, chased by another actor. Evidently, there had been an annihilating fight in the pre-
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102 Photoplay Magazine ceding scene. Both men were supposed to be filled to the tonsils with some compound of rum. They ran and tumbled and rolled around a corner, out of the camera's range, and into its range stepped other actors and actresses, supposed to be in the same party, and when they had finished their turn, the camera man stopped turning the crank, waiting for Chaplin and. his companion to return. The company and the camera man waited in vain. Finally one of the actors noticed a number of people running from all directions toward Fourteenth street where Chaplin and his partner had disap- peared. He walked toward the corner of Fourteenth street just in time to see a patrol wagon dash up to a large crowd of people. A minute or so later three or four fat po- licemen struggled from the center of the jam toward the patrol wagon dragging Chaplin and his companion. The pair had tumbled into the arms of a conscientious officer who thought Chaplin and his friends were intoxi- cated. Explanations avail ed nothing. "You do your explaining to the judge." was the po- liceman's only reply, and it took the combined efforts of the whole movie company The End to release Chaplin and his fellow actor. Chaplin's first appearance in Oakland caused nearly a riot. With several movie actors, he was about to enter a restaurant when he was recognized, and the cry of "Here's Charlie Chaplin!" summoned every rubber neck in the vicinity. Chaplin escaped into the restaurant, and the crowd followed. Chaplin did not want to dis- appoint his admirers, so he took a ketch- up bottle and emptied it into the pocket of a waiter. Somebody grabbed the waiter's strong right arm just before the bottle descended on Charlie's head. The restaurant was in an uproar. When the table was laid and the order served. Chaplin disposed of his frugal meal just as he sometimes does in the film comedies. It was not refined fun. but the crowd laughed because it had seen a living demonstration of the comedy king. Mention has been made of the fact that Chaplin talks to himself when he is alone. As a matter of fact he talks to himself whether alone or in a crowd when he is not talking to someone else. The moment he ceases talking with anyone else, Charlie takes up the conversation with Mr. Chaplin. A civil engineering problem comes up during the filming of Lubin's "Tillie's Tomato Surprise.' They've got to get Marie Dressier over that fence somehow !
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"CLOSE-UPS 99 Ay- The £cfz6or~ iPlf Blue-Sky Picture "Manu- facturers" AN enterprising Indianapolis gentleman started a hundred- thousand -dollar motion picture corporation with an actual paid up capital of eleven cents ; his eleven cents. This is not a Keystone scenario, but a sober news-item. You can't pick up a tradepaper dealing in photoplay news without encountering some flamboyant start to an early finish. Some are more modest than others. The gentleman with eleven cents, for instance, was quite within the bounds of decorum ; he only wanted a hundred thousand. Those who have gone into the art and industry with tremendous thoroughness — those, say, who have acquired an idle shed and a second-hand camera — feel justified in talking of millions. Withal there is never a time when the right man can't find unsuspected diamonds, dig virgin gold or make interesting new pictures. But it is becoming increasingly harder to do any of these things. It takes ingenuity. It takes sticktoitiveness. And in the picture case it takes positive genius. In the whole realm of constructive art there is nothing more pitiful or absurd than the advance imaginings of these blue-sky Ince-killers. Knowing nothing of the subtle craft of marketing, less than nothing of dramatic art, these infants of easy-money die, as they deserve, at birth. An Artistic Civil War ALL arts and sciences have risen to recognition through a fog of persecution, in which ignorance and envious selfishness have played equal roles. The art of active photography, the most significant and potent recorder of human emotions among the discoveries of modern times, is merely repeating history. Not many months ago, active photography had to struggle for its very existence in an endeavor to win the recognition of the people it served. Now that the people have acclaimed it, its fellow arts, and chiefly that of the theatre, have black- marked and banned it, and are actually conspiring, if not for its destruction, for its dwarfing, for the paralysing of its efficiency. Although this is all as it ought not to be, it is only a sort of family history. The genius was ever regarded a toad by his relatives. No good can come out of Nazareth. And so the theatre, which should put a protecting arm around its younger and wholly kindly sister, spits upon photoplay, and instead of extending the helping hand is endeavoring, with ridiculous clumsiness, to wield the crushing foot. The theatre managers, in their merry war upon the movies, are doing the movies a world of indirect good. In the place of every illustrious stage-actor 103
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104 Photoplay Magazine scared away from the lens there will spring a player wholly of the screen — greater, younger, more adaptable — a new star in the as-yet vacant midnight blue. The movies are now beginning, with a humor as deliberate as the theatre's was unintentional, to retaliate. William Fox signed a very distinguished actor a few weeks ago with the express proviso that he should not belittle his screen value by footlight appearances during his term of lens service. It is said that Marcus Loew has just warned screen players whose pictures are shown over his entire circuit that they must not disport in person before their audiences, on pain of film -rejections. There is no real reason for this horse-play on either side. There is need of regulation, of course ; there is need for co-operation, and getting together, for the mutual spirit is the spirit of the Twentieth Century. Let us see what each side has to offer : the theatre can give to the screen some very great artists, who, once "camera -broke," could probably immortalize their best efforts in a way that they cannot now hope to do ; the screen, on the other hand, could bring to the stage the most astounding measures of personal publicity ever known, the value of a pictorial contact upon which the sun never sets, the very real worship of thousands beyond the regular theatre-goer's cold pale. Not all of the theatre men and the picture men are going to spend the rest of their existences bucking and gee- hawing. Some day two will approach the fence, from their respective sides, pass the time of day — and then all the others will wish that they had been first at the barrier. One Big Dis- appointment; One Little Surprise ONE, "The Second in Command," a sore disappoint- ment. Here that most virile of leading men, Francis X. Bushman, made his bow under a new management. What an opportunity, and how little came of it ! Theatre- goers will recall the strong, human old play! Supported, too, by a delightfully warm and girlish girl, Marguerite Snow, Mr. Bushman gave his beholders little of that restrained power, that iron reserve manifest — for instance — in " The Strange Case of Richard Neal." Was it Mr. Bushman's fault? I say not! The same Bushman of old, woefully misdirected. Why this gallery villainy, this lip-biting plotting, this nougat sentimentality? Why this modern warfare consisting of sabre-waving on top of an entrenchment? Flatulent, shoddy and windy, the scenic captions and speeches in " The Second in Command " are positively absurd. Alas that such things must be, and that splendid actors must sometimes count as naught ! The other picture: "Betty's Dream Sweetheart," with Robert Leonard and Ella Hall. Leonard is a young Californian, than whom no man in all of picturedom has worked harder, or more constantly in the past few years. He has perhaps made as many bad pictures as any director who has kept at it, encumbered with poor stories and the necessities of time. But he has arrived. The idyllic nature of this simple little story is ever uppermost. It is absolutely atmospheric It is logical, and like most real-life stories, it has no "ending." It just ceases. I'm not going to describe this picture. See it, and I believe you'll agree. It is a relief to see Universal pictures of this standard.
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"Close-Ups' 105 Now Come the "Movie Manners" JUST as the stage is a fashion - maker, in metropolitan centers, so the manners of the screen, in daily and nightly lessons in every hamlet, are beginning to make their impress. In some ways this may be regarded with alarm. On the whole, it's just a matter which should cause our directors to take, counsel. They have a big juvenile responsibility ahead of them, and they should be careful. Every boy imitates Charlie Chaplin. Your tom-boy girl — anywhere — is sure that she's a Mabel Normand, or a Victoria Forde, or a Fay Tincher. Even Mr. Droppington's brand of kultur has its devotees, and it is presumed that to some Ham and Bud are patterns of deportment. But the danger doesn't lie in contortional comedy. Spare us the pollywog "society" actor, with his sky-scraper handshake, his eyebrow emotions, his shoulder despairs and his wiggle-walks. He is really Youngamerica's misleading man. The manners of really well-bred people? Certainly! See the pictures of the DeMilles, study the personal directions of Tom or Ralph Ince, notice the entire naturalness of Mr. Griffith's folk. There are others. I haven't space for a directory. THAN the imitator there is no duller pest littering the screen. There are scores of imitators of Chaplin ; some of them are bold enough to contend that they invented his stuff. There are imitators of Walthall, and imitators of the Gishes. There are imitators of Mabel Normand — lots of 'em. Chester Conklin is acquiring his imitators. There are imitative Earle Williamses and pictorial parrots of Ethel Clayton and Viola Dana and Flo LaBadie. Mary Pickford and Mae Marsh have, so far, defied the imitator. The Imitator, Smallest of Pests Sunday Movies; the Public's Right NINETEEN hundred years ago a very Great One pro- claimed that the Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath ; yet the narrer feller has been busy through all these ages, proclaiming that the conduct of a rock accumu- lating moss was the only decent manner of Sabbath exist- ence. From time to time he finds a hearing, and gets in his muffling effect. Now, in several places, he is blatting about Sunday movies. No district suffers more from quack legislation than the great State of New York; the chin -beards at Albany have more than once tramped all over Broadway in their milk - spattered boots. It is unlikely that anything so ridiculous as a shut-off on Sunday movies will ever carry in the Empire State, but that agitation, contrariwise, may sweep the thing to success in other localities. To shut off from the masses of the people, on Sunday, so simple, inexpen- sive, instructive and relaxing a recreation as motion pictures would be to revert to the black days of Cotton Mather, in which a man, absent from home for three years, was put in the stocks for kissing his wife when he returned on the Sabbath ; that Sabbath which men, not God, had made a mocking blasphemy. J.J.
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Muffs of the Movie Minister By Rev. Fred Alban Weil Pastor of the Unitarian Chapel, Bellingham, Washington "\Y7HY is it in the movies. ™ When the ministers appear, They always are, to put it mild, A trifle out of gear — Not only in their make-up. In simper, how and stride, But also since they never ask A license for the bride? VV/HV is it in the movies, "" When the ministers are through Their lightning marriage services, There's just one thing to do — They follow down the steps And slowly mount again, But first register emotion As if they had a ten? DI D you ever See A movie Where The knot Was tied When The groom Flashed A license Before He got the bride? You did NOT. T~\ I D you ever '-'See A movie Where The knot Was tied When The minister Didn't Have A fee Which he tried to bide? You did NOT. YV/HV is it in the movies, " When the ministers are seen, They get behind the couples And use them for a screen — With palm- clown, up-lifted hand And eye rolled to the sky, As the couples. placed well forward, Look the camera in the eve? Vf/HY is it in the movies, ™ When the ministers depart, After presumably affixing Two hearts on Cupid's dart — I can't possibly imagine The director ever met A real minister or wedding Or would know one on a bet ! r\ I D vou ever ^See' A movie Where The knot Was tied With The minister In front And Not • Behind the bride ? You did NOT. r\ 1 1 ) vou ever ^See' A movie Where The knot Was tied When The janitor Didn't Take The part Or else the camera lied? You did NOT. 106
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Investing in the Movies THE THIRD OF A SERIES OF ARTICLES BY A RECOGNIZED AUTHORITY ON THE FINANCIAL END OF A GREAT INDUSTRY By Paul H. Davis T—f VNDRED'S of requests have been received by the editors of PHOTOPLAY ■*■ ■*■ MAGAZINE from persons who contemplate investment in moving picture companies and who seek advice on the subject. In many cases investigation showed that these people were being solicited to invest money in concerns tlfat, in the face of existing conditions, did not have one chance in a hundred to succeed. In his first article {in the August number) Mr. Davis gave a clear statement of the fundamen- tals of picture manufacture and sale, and sounded a warning against the wildcatter. The second article explained the sensitive, mercurial character of moving picture stocks, and indicated the safest manner in which to make selections from the market. IN the first article of this series I sounded a warning against the fly-by- night concerns that are springing up in the movie industry. Last month I pointed out tliat practically all motion pic- ture stocks are business risks — not sure things. Now I want to tell the man who feels he can afford to buy motion picture stocks how to get in the game. Most of us form our ideas of the stock business from information concerning the securities dealt in by the New York Stock Exchange — the so-called Listed Stocks. Unlisted Securi- ties, the group to which practically all motion pic- ture stocks be- long, are han- dled in an en- tirely different way, and it may be well for you to get a line on the way the Un- listed Stocks are manipulated. If you have decided to buy a motion picture stock, and have selected a security that interests you, there are two ways to spend your money. You may find some one who owns a share of the movie venture you have in mind, and purchase the shares direct from him. This is practicable, how- ever, in only a few instances, because it would be rather hard for you to find a When the slock is received it will be endorsed in blank, and the signature will be witnessed. stockholder who cared to sell the exact amount of stock that you wished to buy at the price that you would pay. The prac- tical way is to make the purchase through a banker or broker, who will handle the transaction for you, and won't hold you up, either. The first thing is to learn from your friends, or your banker, the name of a broker in your city or elsewhere, who is reliable. The company whose stock you are in- terested in may refer you to some broker, if you write for such in- formation. I f there is no broker n your city you can write to any one of the repu- table firms in the larger cities who will be very glad to handle your business. W h en y o u meet your broker your first ques- t i o n will be, "What is the market on such and such a film stock?" The broker may quote you a nominal market — for instance, 80 bid. 85 asked. This nominal quotation does not necessarily mean that stock is for sale at 85 and that 80 will be paid for stock, but shows, in a general way, the prices at which transactions may be made. Be sure that the broker quotes you the price in dollars per share, as some stocks are 107
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108 Photoplay Magazine quoted per cent, which is often confusing. In this particular case we may assume that several buyers might pay $80 a share for the stock, and that there were stock- holders who might sell at $85 a share, hence, 80 bid — 85 asked. So, if the broker quotes a nominal market don't consider it as more than a guide to what you will pay for your shares. While it is as accurate as can be ascertained, it is not a firm or actual market. The word firm, in this connection, is a technical one of the brokerage business and means that the broker will actually buy or sell at the prices quoted. If a broker tells you that the market is 80 bid, 85 asked firm, that means that he has orders to buy stock at 80 and orders to sell stock at 85. When a broker quotes a firm market be sure to find out the size of the market — the exact number of shares for sale at the asked price — and the number of shares wanted at the bid price. Having obtained the quotation on the stock, you will place an order with your broker to buy, say ten shares. You will probably bid a little higher than the other bidders, and a little lower than the price asked by the seller — just like in trading horses. In this case your bid will be about $82 a share. You may leave two kinds of orders with your broker ; one an open order — which means that the broker is commis- sioned to purchase the stock for you at your price any time until the order is filled or you notify the broker that you do not care to make the purchase ; the other is a time limit order. If you tell your broker to purchase you ten shares of stock at 82, good for the day this order automatically can- cels at the close of business that same day. Either of these orders the broker considers as absolutely binding, even though it may not be in writing. When he makes the pur- chase for you he will pay the seller for the stock. After you have left your order this is what the broker does. He will communi- cate with the various people, who have told him or written him that they might be inter- ested in selling some of the stock you have in mind, and will submit your bid to them. He will also communicate with brokers in other parts of the country to see if they have stock for sale. Should he find that the market has suddenly had a rise — that there is no stock for sale at your price, he will endeavor to get an offering of stock. When the broker finds the shares to fill your order he will confirm the purchase of the stock to the seller and also confirm the sale of the stock to you. This makes a binding transaction to which the seller, the buyer and the broker are all parties. It usually takes a day or two before the broker receives the stock from the seller. When the stock is received it will be en- dorsed in blank ; that is, it will be signed on the back just as a check is endorsed, in exactly the same way that the certificate is made out on the face, and the signature will be witnessed, and nothing else on the back of the certificate will be filled in. The rest of the details will be cared for by the broker or the buyer. After the broker gets this stock he will ask you if you want the stock transferred to your name ; that is, if you want the rec- ord of ownership on the film company's books made out to you at once, or if he shall deliver the stock just as he receives it and let you take care of this. It is, of course, desirable that the stock be trans- ferred at once, otherwise any dividends that may be paid will go to the stockholder of record — the man who owned the stock be- fore you bought it. Before the broker will make the trans- fer of the stock, however, he will ask you to pay for the stock, for as soon as it is transferred to your name the film company looks on you as the owner — and if you should suddenly die the broker would have to wait until your estate was wound up before he could get his money. In making the purchase of your stock the broker will have done more real work than you may realize — considerably more than if he were purchasing for you a Listed Stock. For this he is entitled to a reasonable pay. INVESTMENT PILOT
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Investing in the Movies 109 A great many brokers handle this business on a commission basis, the usual charge- being $1 a share. It is the endeavor to make the charge commensurate with the amount of work. In some instances where the stock is active the commission will be less than this; when the shares are inactive the commission may be a little higher. The most satisfactory way for you to either buy or sell motion picture stocks is to have a definite understanding with your broker as to the amount of remuneration he is to re- ceive for handling your business. A great many people, however, think t hat they will make their purchase cheaper if they give their broker a net price; that is, do not deal with any kind of a commis- sion understanding, but just state the price they will pay. In this case the broker has the liberty to buy the stock as cheaply as he can and sell it to you at the price you give him. Many brokers make it a gen- eral principle to make no more on a net order than on a commission order, but in the long run it will probably be better for you to deal with an understanding of the pay the broker will receive. In the Unlisted Stocks there is no set rule as to who pays the commission. The com- mission is usually paid by the man for whom the broker is working and it will usu- ally be to your advantage to have the pav come from you. for then the broker is your agent and is bound to do the best he can for you. A striking example of how this works out came to my attention not a great while ago. There were two men each wishing to purchase stock in a motion picture com- pany whose shares were inactive. Neither would leave an order with the broker. A customer of this broker had twenty-five shares of this stock, which he unexpectedlv decided to sell. He asked the broker to execute for him a commission order at $175 a share. The broker was bound to get this man the best price possible and was paid for that particular service. In this in- stance, the broker really acted as an auc- tioneer, giving first one of the men who wanted to buy the stock a chance to bid for it and then the other. The result was the stock was sold at $200 a share, the seller receiving $25 a share more than he had ex- pected and the buyer paying probably $25 more than he would have had to pay had he given an order. A great many people make the mistake of trying to deal through several brokers at one time. Last winter a man, well up in the motion picture business, but not so well versed in finance, decided to buy 200 shares of a well-known motion picture stock. The market at this time was 62 bid, 66 asked. In his effort to purchase the stock cheap he did what the brokers call "shopping," that is, he communicated with five or six brokers in different parts of the country, telling them that he wished to buy about two hundred shares. The re- sult was that it appeared that over a thou- sand shares were wanted instead of only two hundred. This unusual demand for stock, and the resulting activity on the part of the brokers in getting in touch with different stockholders, pushed the market from around 65 to a point where sales were actu- ally made above 75. Had this buyer se- lected one reliable broker and dealt through him alone he doubtless would have got the stock at 6.5 a share. When you pay your broker for stock it will greatly assist him if you make the pay- ment in a certified check. For instance, if you are located in Kansas and make a pur- chase from a broker in Chicago, buy from your bank a cashier's check on a Chicago bank. This will save the broker delay and avoid exchange payments. This will give you a general idea of how to go about making a purchase of stock in any one of the established motion picture companies that you may have in mind. If you should be interested in any of the new companies that are being promoted, it would be well for you to handle the pur- chase in the same way that you would handle the purchase of an established com- pany. By so doing you will have the as- sistance of your broker in analyzing the stock, which will prove invaluable. V "^<- v\ PROFIT
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Bill Farnum A VISIT TO THE WORK-SHOP OF A GENTLE FIGHTING MAN By John Ten Eyck BILL FARNUM is the most unneutral chunk of mas- culinity I ever met. He may be an actor, but when ( rod made him He moulded the actor from the cast of which fighting men are made. Hill has the dis- position of an angel, but let me say right here that there are many liv- ing today — right lusty varlets with their fists, too — who will absolutely guarantee the truth of this statement. Not that he is a pug with a metaphor- ical chip on his shoulder. Not on your life ; real fighters aren't that way. Mister Farnum is an Ameri- can gentleman, as his fathers were before him. For years before he played in studios he was a famous stage favorite, often appeared with his brother IHistin — as in "Ari- zona," when the all-star revival was made in New York two seasons ago — and incidentally acquired fame as a yachtsman and as a hunter. Speaking of his stage prowess, who could have been a greater Ben-Hur? Since applying his art to the screen, he has appeared in a number of photoplays of unusual length, the first of a long Farnum series which has been promised under Fox management. His screen successes to date have been "The Nigger." from Edward Sheldon's play ; "A Gilded Fool," clever screen adaptation of Nat Goodwin's old-time triumph ; "The Plunderer," and "Samson," the last a shadowed replica of the Henri Bernstein play in which William Gillette starred at New- York's Criterion theatre in 1008. Farnum has a town house on Riverside Drive, New York, and a country place at Sag Harbor, where he spends much more of his time. Here he and Mrs. Farnum. and their little daughter, Olive Ann, are to
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Bill Farnum ill "Well, I have had plenty of fights, confessed Bill, modestly, and exhibited the proof that both of his ivrists had been broken. be found every summer. There is another Olive Ann : the fastest sloop-rigged cat- coat on the north shore of Long Island. And there is a tall white flagpole from which flies an American flag from sunrise to sunset every day that the house is occu- pied. Farnum has the reputation of being a hard man to interview. He won't talk about himself, and he's hard to find in any event. But on the assignment I went forth. After much scarlet tape, interviews, conver- sation and telephonitis. I found myself in the subway ; then upon a Hudson ferry at 128th street, and, presently, in a big yellow car speeding along the top of the Palisades, en route to the Willat studio at Fort Lee. Here, I had been informed. Bill Farnum was sweating under the July sun, -with "Bing" Thompson in command. I entered a stone gate in the tall brick wall which apparently surrounds both the Fox and the World Film studios. Finding no one on guard save a genial old scamp in overalls, whom I bribed into friendliness with a cigarette. I marched undisputed into the studio. That was as far as I got. Thompson, with his coat off and hat on, was yelling instructions to a short, rather bewildered man with the best set of "actor's whiskers" which have ever risen above my horizon. Thompson, turning, saw me. "What the are you doing here?" he yelled. "I'm just hanging around waiting for Mr. Farnum — by appointment !" I added that as a life-saver. "Well, you can't see him now. He's busy. I'm busy. We're all busy. Go away. Come back in an hour." After fifty minutes of angry considera- tion over a couple of steins, at the Fort Lee Hotel. I ventured to return. Farnum was there. So was Thompson. "Hello," I said, somewhat scared. "Hello yourself." said Thompson, still short, but not nasty. "Sorry to have sent you away, but I can't work with anyone watching me. if I know why." "Artistic temperament?" I suggested, in a wave of maudlin bromidism. "Not at all. Plain crankiness. I'm go-
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112 Photoplay Magazine ing to start up again pretty soon, ami when 1 do, I'll have to ask you to look around the place awhile." Hut before Thompson began again, he and Bill Farnum decided to negotiate a pork-chop apiece. I had been introduced. Farnum was coatless and • collarless. I sat down with them, at Thompson's rough but kindly invitation. At close quarters, Farnum's very familiar features undergo an unexpected change. He has a mouth straight as a steel rail ; a neck like that good old animal of the simile, the Bashan bull ; and a rocky, square chin that gives him an appearance of indomit- able force and unscrupulous determination. But all these Bessemer features melt in a smile which is absolutely an extract of Italian sunshine. It's irresistible. The Lord knows what we talked about at first. I think it was whether I ought to have only one plate of ice-cream, or whether I should have two. I got the second, anyway. "Mr. Farnum," said I, "tell me about the fight between you and Tom Santschi in "The Spoilers." Was that the real scrap everybody says it was?' He laughed. "I guess people thought Tom and I were foolish to fight as we did," he re- plied. "For years I had noticed the ridiculous thing that the average \ stage fight is. I had be- come disgusted with the 'precipice wrastling' type of thing which the average Thespian fancies looks like an encounter at arms. I had come to the conclusion that a fight was one of those things that just naturally can't be faked. When the time came to take the big fight scene in 'The Spoilers,' I confided this convic- tion to Tom, and he agreed with me. We decided to have a real fight. "And believe me, it was. Tom Santschi is six feet tall more or less, and as hard as a rock and in perfect condition. There was a lot of that fight cut out of the picture." "What was left in was enough," I sug- gested. "It's a funny thing," went on Farnum reminiscently ; "but I seem to have a repu- tation for fighting all over the country. Not longer than a few days ago, I received a letter on very brilliant stationery from some 'promoter' in which he begged me to 'let him manage me.' telling me that be- tween us we could make 'an awful pile of monev!' I've had anv number of such offers'." He grinned handsomely. "Well." said I, "you can't make people believe that you are not a real fighter by exhibiting that smile of yours. Most real fighters are very pleasant people — until they fight. Your mean little shrimp is never a real fighter. He may be a bomb thrower, or an expert with a leather bag full of bird-shot in dark alleys; but he's not what one would call a fighting man. "Well, I have had plenty of fights," confessed Bill mod- estly, and exhibited the fact that both of his wrists had been broken. Whereupon I, in my usual egotistical manner, showed my battle- scarred left wrist and ex- plained how I got it, to- gether with a smashed knuckle on my index fin- 9 ger, by knocking a gen- tleman from Texas down ' a flight of cellar steps. We then went into a ^ long discussion of fighting in general, and agreed that wounds received in the heat of conflict did not pain until after one had cooled down. To prove this, Bill told of his grandfather's experience in the Seven Days' battle dur- ing the Civil War prior to the Battle of the Wilderness. His grandfather was riding across an open space, when suddenly his horse fell from under him, and he felt what he thought was the sting of a bee. When he had extri- cated himself from the stir- rups and tried to stand up, William Farnum, as lie appeared in "The Littlest Rebel."
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Bill Farnum 113 however, lie found that a fragment of shell had gone through one of his legs, shattering the hone to pieces, then had passed com- pletely through his horse's body, and com- ing out on the other side had shattered his other leg also. In fact, shameful as it is to confess it, we three — a dramatic star, a director and a writer — sat around that table for an hour eating ice cream and drinking (terribile dictu .') beer and talking of abso- 1 u t e 1 y nothing but fights a n d fighting men. "Of c o u r s e. realism in these things in pic- tures as well as the stage is the great thing." I suggested, h o p- ing to hook Thompson. He sprang at the bait. "The whole art of the theatre and the studio." he snapped, "is just simply this a n d nothing more — To do real things in an unreal way a n d make unreal things appear real. Think it over." If you figure out just w h a t the indomitable Frederick meant, you have the art and science of stage-craft in a nut- shell. "Realism," went on Thompson, "can be very easily pushed too far. In fact, it can become a ridiculous and criminal affair. "Did you ever hear, Bill." he said, address- ing Farnum, "of that director in Los An- geles who framed up the police against his mob?" "No," said Farnum. "What happened?" "Well, a certain director in California wanted a mob scene showing the police raiding the aroused citizenry, beating them up and driving them to cover. In order to achieve this, he went to a number of Los Mr. Farnum enjoys farming. He is here shown bartering some of his wheaten acres at Sag Harbor. Angeles police officers, who in those, days were allowed to take part in pictures when off duty, and offered each of them a five dollar bill to work in the particular scene he had in mind. When they had agreed to report at the time he indicated, he asked : " 'What would you do if you ordered a mob in the street to disperse and they wouldn't do it?' " "In joyful accord the cops burst forth: " 'We'd beat 'em up !' " 'Well,* said the director, 'that's w hat I want you to do tomorrow.' "And they did. They c 1 u b b e d those poor supers almost to death." Thompson be- gan to sho w signs of wanting to go to work again, which, of course, meant my departure. "Mr. Farnum." I said, "I've got to leave before your brutal di- rector harries me forth." We shook hands. "I'm mighty glad to have seen you." he said. "We've had a great little talk. I'm sorry this Simon Legreeful director in- sists on breaking up the party. We'll have another pow-wow after some one murders him, say. I wish you could come down to my place at Sag Harbor some time. I'll take you out in that sail boat you admired so much, and show you the wonderful gar- den Mrs. Farnum has. You know, my birthday is on the Fourth of July, and she has a wonderful patch of flowers in that garden that blossom into red. white and blue flowers every year, not on the third of July, nor on the fifth : but on the morning of the Fourth. For several years now. I've waited to see her flowers trick her ; but they obey her as absolutelv — well, as I do !"
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The Players from Ocean to Ocean A FOUR-REEL fea- ture entitled "A Close Call," vv h i c h is being produced by the E d i s o ii company, will bear the stamp of .Miriam Nesbitt first, last •and in the middle. Miss Nesbitt wrote it, and is now directing it's produc- tion and acting in it. Many of the scenes are located at the World's Pair. Miss Nesbitt is the first woman to direct an Edison picture, but the company has expressed its faith in her ability by giving her free hand in the production. Miriam Nesbitt HENRY WALTHALL, who took the part of the Little Colonel in "The Birth of a Nation," spoke from the stage at the Illinois theatre in Chicago, in connection with a bene- fit exhibition of the photodrama (given by the Chicago Tribune) for the sufferers of the Eastland catastrophe. Walthall, who never before had consented to appear personally at an exhibition of any of his pictures, declared that, when all Chicago was making such heroic efforts in behalf of the livinsr Eastland vic- tims, the least he could do was to lay aside this rule and lend his presence to the performance. EX-SECRETARY OF STATE WILLIAM JENNINGS BRYAN and Mrs. Bryan were among the recent visitors to Universal City, where they were the guests of President Laemmle. Cowboys and cavalrymen met Mr. Bryan's party on their arrival at the city, and fired the national cabinet salute with revolvers. During the day Mr. and Mrs. Bryan watched the filming of a number of scenes, for one nf which the ex-secretary turned the camera crank. THE first consignment of the Willard- Johnson fight pictures went down on the Lusitania. Duplicates were immediately shipped, and hundreds of celebrities of the sporting world, includine Tack Tohnson him- self, were present at the first unspooling at the Shaftesbury Pavilion, fudging from the attendance during the Ions' run of the pictured fight, there arc still a great manv unenlisted Britishers who love a battle nassionately, pro- vided the other fellow is doins the fighting. CLEO MADISON, who had been ill with pneumonia for some weeks has returned to work at Universal City. She has asked Photo- play Magazine to express her thanks to the thousands of solicitous friends who have in- quired concerning her health. CHARLES EYTON. general manager of the Oliver Morosco Photoplays Company, has an old maidish penchant for' neatness about the studios. Recently he found a litter of ash barrels, tin cans, waste paper, dishevelled cab- bages and bottles about the rear entrance. He ordered a janitorial charge on the offense, and it was soon cleared away. Presently Director Frank Lloyd was running around the studio wildly looking for his "alley." From Mr. Lloyd's incoherencies it was apparent that he considered it a beautiful alley, and all he wanted was the heart's blood of the person who had made away with it. He had had the invalid vegetables, barrels and ancient tinware specially arranged for a set, in Maclyn Ar- buckle's picture. "The Reform Candidate," and Mr. Eyton's white wings had brushed the land- scape away. ANOTHER of Broadway's darlings has deserted, and once more the notorious m.p.'s are named as co-respondent. The lights in the Lulu Glaser bill boards will be dark in the future, for that rollicking lady has signed with the Universal, and the scenario depart- ment is now busy on a production in which she will make her first appearance. There can't be much doubt as to how she will "go." in the minds of those who saw her in "Lola from Berlin," "The Madcap Princess" or "The Prima Donna." 114 DONALD BRIAN, who was the original Prince Donilo, in "The Merry Widow," has joined the Lasky players at the Hollywood studios for the production of Harold McGrath's picture play. "The Voice in the Fog." Upon the completion of this picture he will return however to the legitimate, for his second season as star with Julia Sander- son in "The Girl from Utah." H Vernon Castle IS fighting blood aroused," according to an excited New York journalist, Vernon Castle, the other half of the famous Castle House dancing firm, has decided to join the aviation corps of the British army. While this rampant phe- nomena of wakefulness among the corpuscles of the Castle haemaglobin, will perhaps not set many patella; in Berlin to knocking, it may give us a new, sad song and dance entitled : "I Didunt Raise My Bo-hoy to Fall Out of An Aeroplane!" Some months ago Castle bought a Curtiss aeroplane and has made numerous flights over Long Island. He now considers himself expert enough, according to the jour- nalist, to he of service to England in the upper regions of war.
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And What They Are Doing Today ONE of the latest recruits from the legiti- mate stage to the photodrama is Robert B. Mantell, the distinguished Shakespearean actor, whose last public appearance was in a repertoire of classical plays in New York. He and his wife, Genevieve Hamper, have signed with the Fox Film Corporation, and will produce mod- ern pictures. The contract, under which Mr. Mantell will appear, is one of the first in re- taliation for the theatrical managers rule against stage stars appearing in pictures, and in turn forbids Mr. Mantell' s appearance on the legitimate stage during the current season of his picture performances. THOMAS DIXON, author of -'The Clans- man," from which "The Birth of a Nation" was taken, recently wrote Judge Cooper, of Chicago, thanking him and expressing his ad- miration for the decision by which a narrow, prejudicial censorship was defeated in its effort to prevent the exhibition of the Griffith masterpiece. Mr. Dixon*s letter follows : My Dear Judge Cooper : I am sending you by today's express a spe- cial autographed set of my novels as an ex- pression of my personal appreciation of the great service you have rendered the authors of America, in your decision of our rights in "The Birth of a Nation." You have rendered the people of America an even greater service. The menace of censorship by pot house politi- cians is a growing threat against the founda- tions of a free republic. Thank God we still have a free judiciary to defend the principles of justice. With gratitude and admiration. Sincerely, Thomas Dixon. THE film epidemic which is ravaging the boards, has taken one of the American stage's fairest as a late victim. Reine Davies, who won favor as leading lady in "Love Among the Lions," "Mme. Sherry" and "The Girl Rangers," has been engaged by the George W. Lederer Filmotion Corporation. Her first work is in "Sunday." KEYSTONE MABEL Normand, recently worked in three pictures under three directors in a single day. Miss Nor- mand left Mack Sennett's company, in which she was working with Ray- mond Hitchcock, long enough to play a part with another director at the old studios. She was railed upon then by still another director to help with some re-take scenes, were finished she hurried Mabel Normand and as soon as these back to Sennett's company, and completed the day in a two reel feature. Mt AURICE COS- tello, Vitagraph Star, and his director, Van Dyke Brooke, were look- ing over Mr. Costello's recently acquired place at Bayside, Long Island one dark day, when they came across the new gardener, Pat Mahoney, who was very much in- terested in a lake that ap- parently had no outlet. "Sure an' where did th' lake come from ?" he asked of Mr. Costello. "Why that's one of the Lakes of Killarncy I had sent over during my trip around the world," answered the Vitagraph star, with a wink at Mr. Brooke. Excusing himself, Mr. Costello left to help one of his children who was having trouble with a lively pony, when Pat approached Mr. Brooke. "Whisht, Mr. Brooke, an' don't I know- th' Lakes of Killarncy are green and ain't this one black? But don't tell Mr. Costello, as I wouldn't hurt his feelin's for the wurrold." Maurice Costello AS organizer, manager, director and star of a moving picture company, Anna Cleve- land, who is well known on the speaking stage, has taken an unique position among women of the films. Headquarters of the new company is at Waterville, N. Y. Miss Cleveland de- clared that only feature films would be pro- duced. As the head of her own stock company on the stage, Miss Cleveland acquired consid- erable managerial ability, and is not at all timid about entering the eruelling struggle with the producers of male persuasion. VICTORIA FORDE, long of the Nestor company, has been signed by the Selig Polyscope company, and will play opposite Tom Mix at the new studios in Las Vegas. N. M. THERE is one moving picture star of whose fabulou; salary the publicity agent spins no golden yarns. Missing Link Chang is the actor in question. Three squares and a bottle of beer at bedtime are M. L. Chang's per diem wage. No, Chang is not a Chinese coolie. He is the hero of a Selig Polyscope August release, "The Orang Outang." Chang was brought over from Calcutta. India, several months ago. The foreign jungle star enioved work before the camera, it is reported. ARTHUR ROW, who played the part of Pitt Crawley in "Vanity Fair," with Mrs. Fiske in her stage presentation, has been se- cured to take that role in her screen version, which the Edison company is working upon. 115
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116 Photoplay Magazine Constance Tahnadge NEPOTISM is in- creasing in moving pictures. By and by, un- less you are a Moore, a Marsh or a Pick ford, there will he little chance to get your handsome face into the movies. Constance Talmadgc. the sixteen-year-old sister of the charming Norma (and all there in. the charming line herself), is one of the later ad- Vitus family album. The ditions to the St National Film corporation, which recently se cured the services of Norma, has now signed Constance and the sisters are working together at Los Angeles. Constance Talmadge made a decided hit as the ingenue lead in '"Uncle Bill Broadway." SYD CHAPLIN received a painful injury re- cently when he was struck in one eye with a ball from a piece of fire works with which he was experimenting. Immediate medical attention saved the sight of the eye but it will be two weeks before he will be able to resume work. His director, Charles Avery, was injured also, not long ago. and wiD be con- fined to the hospital until October at least. Charles Parrott has taken the direction of Mr. Chaplin. NEVA GEKBER, the little Beauty-Mutual leading lady, received a poem through the mail recently from an admirer that leaves her rather undecided. Perhaps you can suggest what emotion one should experience on read- ing it. Here it is : "Neva Gerber, Neva Gerber, your eyes like diamonds shine. Neva Gerber, Neva Gerber. please, oh, please, be mine. I don't know if you're married. But hear my heart's love-plaint. Charming Neva, I'll ne'er leave vou — Tell me that you ain't !" A PICTURE unique in filmdom is that of "Sarah Bernhardt at Home." recently re- leased in the United States and Canada. As the title suggests, the two reel picture shows the great French actress in her home life. It was taken at Belle Isle, Brittany, two months before the amputation of her leg. If one looks for the pathos of departed grandeur in this picture, he will be disappointed. For the im- mortal spirit of Sarah inhabits its aged worldly shell, as graciously, as blithely, as youthfully gay. as when she played for a world that was half a century younger, and almost as mad about her as it is today. Madame Bernhardt is shown leaving ship- board at Belle Isle, after which she is seen as hostess in her villa, making the rounds of her lands, visiting the peasantry on her possession?, and attending to the routine that occupies her waking hours at home. THE pictured version of "Carmen," in which Geraldine Farrar is starred, will be icleased during the early part of October. SD. DOYLE of New London, Conn., sent • the following to Photoplay Magazine : John Bunny's brother, George E. Bunny of Ocean Beach, near New London, Conn., is to enter the moving picture field as a comedian. Late in July he signed a contract with a new film company of Providence. R. I., and will he used as principal comedian in a series of films. Mr. Bunny is an old-time actor, hut has been out of the game for many years. BILLIE BURKE has been secured by the New York Motion Picture Corporation for an engagement of five weeks. Because of the large salary which the company is said to be paying for the pink-haired star, an insurance policy against rain has been secured from Lloyds of London, to be ooerative during Miss Burke's engagement. This is the second time that Lloyds has issued insurance against rain in the United States. The other occasion was Jul}- 4, 1910, when such a nolicv protected the promoters of the Jeffries-Tohnson fight. FREDERIC DeBELLEVILLE has been re- leased from his contract with "The Garden of Allah," to take the part of J. Rufus Walling- ford, the great capitalizer of human hope and faith, in the Lubin picturization of George Randolph Chester's humorous and ingenius stories of "Get-Rich-Quick-Wallingford." WILLIAM FAVERSHAM, whose first ap- pearance on the screen in Sir Gilbert Parker's, "The Right of Way," was a tre- mendous success, has been secured for another picture to be made by the B. A. Rolfe company. Clara Kimball Young CLARA KIMBALL Young, star of the World Film corporation, and her husband, James Young, recently enter- tained Mr. Young's par- ents. State Senator Young of Maryland, and Mrs. Young at New York. Senator and Mrs. Young were keen for visiting all the pictures in New York, and against the mild protests of the younger Youngs, the senator grimly insisted that as long as he was in New York he was "going to make a moving picture jag of it."
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Plays and Players 117 ARNOLD DALY has hist completed a contract with the Pathe company for a series of pictures which he will produce him- self, to he known as the "Arnold Daly Series." Mr. Daly will picturize the Ashton Kirk novels, by John C. Mclntyre. Ashley Miller will have direct charge of the staginsr of the series. Mr. Daly has assembled an excellent company for his productions. FROM Frederick Palmer, publicity manager of the Keystone company, comes an an- nouncement, tlie equal of which in solemn dig- nity and chastity of expression has seldom found its way to these offices. Here it is : Charlie Murray made a trip to San Francisco over the Fourth of July and received three offers to enter musical comedy while in the Northern city. He prefers to remain a lens squirrel in the creeping pastels, however. "As long as the trembling tin-types want me I am going to stay with them." avers Mr. Murray. "DLOOM CENTER" has Bone to join Pom- Dpeii, Nineveh and Tyre in the land of de- parted municipalities. Its earthly harassments are over. "Bloom Center" has been burned, as frivolously as it was created. The Selig Polyscope Companv needed a complete rural village for the filming of the "Chronicles of Bloom Center" series, and so the town was built. Having served its purpose it was given to the torch for the last of the series. Hie Jacet Bloom Center's ashes ! MIRIAM COOPER, who has been ill for some time, recently returned to the Holly- wood studios, in better health than she has enjoyed for some time. She still continues taking long auto rides into the picturesque mountain country, as the physician ordered. BESSIE BARRISCALE. who could rest her fame on her remarkable performance in "The Cup of Life," has been cast by Director Tom Ince as a fallen woman, in "The Painted Soul," which he says will eclipse even the for- mer masterpiece. HELEN HOLMES, "the railroad girl." who romps with box- cars, passenger coaches and eight driver engines for moving pictures, was recently made an honor- ary member of one of the western railroad or- ganizations, and was pre- sented with a union card. Miss Holmes says she is prouder of that card than any other single posses- sion. EDDIE FOY arrived at the Keyston c studios, leading all the little Foys by the hand, and announced that he was ready to take off his coat and go to work. Just then Raymond Hitchcock came through doing a rough piece of jostling around on the back of a bucking horse. „ . „. , "Give me mv card Raymond HUchcock back •■ demanded Foy in agitation of the gateman, "and tell the ring- master that I won't be ready until tomorrow.'' And leading all the little Foys by the hand, he went out. MIKE DONLIN, who used to amble up to the plate at the Polo grounds and draw the Reach spheroid down into left field so fast it looked like a chalk line, is to be featured in a five part photoplay, entitled, "Right off the Bat." The scenario, which is by Albert S. Lcvine. closely follows the life of Donlin, since he was a small-town boy until he achieves fame as a Giant. An excellent cast supports Mike. DOUGLAS FAIRBANKS, the popular legitimate stage star, who recently closed in the Broadway production, "The Show Shop," has been engaged by D. W. Griffith to appear in several feature photoplays, and is now at work at the Griffith studio in Southern California. THE comedy attraction which is always ready to oblige at benefits, birthday parties, and early morning serenades, is the notorious quartette composed of Charlie Murray. Fred Mace, Roscoe Arbuckle and Bob Albright. There seems to be no law in Los Angeles of a sufficiently comprehensive nature to cover the case either. DAVID HORSLEY has cancelled the con- tract whereby in the past he has released MinA films through the General Film Pro- gram, and hereafter will clear his entire out- put through the Mutual Film Corporation. His contract calls for the release of a single-reel comedy each Friday, a two-reel animal picture each Saturday, and a Mutual Masterpicture of four reels every five weeks. Helen Holmes EDWIN STEVENS, who has recently joined the Universal forces, is one of the best known character actors in America. His characterization of Dickens' book people stands forth as the best of any American actor.
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118 Photoplay Magazine a; LL men are liars, Lejaculated someone in the Bible, shortly after he had an interview with a press agent. And the genus press agent we still have with us. However, the one who thought this one up on Francelia Bill- ington deserves to get away with it. "In a re- cent Reliance-Majestic picture," he tells us, "a cat comes into view, ap- proaches the fireplace, where Miss Billington sits, yawns luxuriously and lies down, furnish- ing a very artistic touch to the home-likeness of the scene. Asked how she had trained his tahbiness to do this, Miss Billington laughed. "I didn't train him,* she said. 'I just put him in the ice-box for five minutes before the scene was taken and when he was released he made for the fire ' " Francelia Billington J WARREN KERRIGAN, who recently suc- • cessfully underwent a serious operation, has been discharged from the hospital, and has returned to Kamp Kerrigan at Lake Tahoc, where he is working at a studio built espe- cially for him and his company. The pictures on which he is workine are a series of ro- mantic mountain dramas and are entitled "The Gods of the Mountain," "Payment Received," and "A Night in the Pines." Jacques Jaccard is directing. BOB RYLAND, the colored porter of the Vitagraph Theatre, New York City, was very much perturbed last Sunday, over the remissness of "Lord" George Morley, treas- urer of the theatre. Bob is proud of the fact that he is known as the best dressed man in his set, and was equally as proud of the sar- torial accomplishments of "Lord" Morley, the fashion plate of box office men. It seems that Bob happened to know "Lord" Morley had been out late Saturday night. Bob, himself, had welcomed the rising sun that Sunday morning. The combination of late hours, de- pleted pocketbook and other things had be- fogged Boll's eyesight, and when "Lord" Morley arrived at the theatre three hours ahead of time, the picture he presented to the sleepy porter was that of a man who had arisen in his sleep and came to work in his pajamas. "Ah thought we'uns repertashuns had done gone entirely," said Bob, in telling of the inci- dent, "' 'til Ah 'spects de gem'man an' fines he am dressed in one ob does new six dollah silk pongee suits. Den Ah quietly checks him off de lis' as he caint trabel in mah class wid no sech 'duds' lik' dat." EJ. LE SAINT, who recently joined the • Universal's forces, has begun the produc- tion of Peter B. Kyne's photoplay, "The Long Chance," with Frank Keena, late Broadway star, in the principal role. JOHN W. BURTON, who for the last ten years has been under the management of Oliver Morosco, on the stage, celebrated his fortieth professional anniversary, recently, by acting for the first time before the camera, for the Morosco Photoplay Company. IT WAS the original intention of Harry Myers in the direction of "His Double," in which Wilton Lackaye is starred, to make the battle scenes in Quebec, where the company had gone for French atmosphere. It was found, though, that because the pick of the city's men were away at the front, not enough supers for a big battle could be secured, and the fight scenes had to be shifted back to New Jersey. HEADED by Peggy Burke, the Thanhou- ser studio's female baseball team opposed a male aggregation at the exhibitors' field day at Brighton Beach. Miss Burke dished up the curves and smoke, while Eleanor Brown, Janet Henry, Violet Hite, Ethyle Benham, Winifred Lane, Jean Lelmberg, Ruth Elder and Lydia Mead gathered up the disastrous results from the outskirts of the ball lot. No score was available. ETHEL CLAYTON, leading lady for Lubin. and co-creator with Joseph Kaufman of the distinctive domestic photoplay, has gone to Phoenix, Ariz., accompanied by her brother. Donald Clayton, and Edward Earle, to join Romaine Fielding's company for the filming of "The Great Divide." LEE KOHLMAR, formerly of the "Potash and Perlmutter" company, has just com- pleted a two-reel comedy, entitled "A Delica- tessen Romance," for the Universal. Kohl- mar was one of the best known comedians on the American stage. Fania Marinofi FANIA MARINOFF, young Russian-Amer- ican actress, widely known for her work in such legitimate produc- tions as "Within the Law." " Consequences." and "Arms and the Man." has been secured by Don- ald Mackenzie to p 1 a y opposite Clifton Craw- ford in "The Galloper," a Pathe feature.
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"La Fille Au Devant" REFERRING, IN PARIS1ENNE, TO BEVERLEY, THE BEAUTI- FUL BAYNE ON THE COVER By Johnstone Craig *. d: m m m ID you ever stop to think that the world, and most of what's therein, runs on custom? We do things because our forefathers did them. or because we've always done them — not because we have any direct inspiration on each individual occasion. So it has come to pass that skirted screen stars must, invariably, receive interviews in one of two places: home or studio. Your inter- viewer's best stock expression is — with breathless typewriter — "So this is the home of — " blank to be filled in according to time, place and gell. The next best stock expression: "I found (time and girl) in her dressing room, surrounded by," etc. The writer does not find his She- herazade surrounded by andsoforth, un- derstand ; the abbreviation is merely a literary code word, indicating that from this point the descriptive artist is free to follow his own fancy, naming any number of things which, as usual were not about the star, and had never been seen in her dressing room. When Photoplay Magazine's managerial padrone told me that Beverly Bayne was to adorn the October cover, and that the story of Beverly Bayne must be at least somewhat told, within, I ^^ determined that custom should run away from itself ; go mad and wandering ; bite itself behind the ear. In brief, n * I know of no finer lady in the whole range of interpretative arts than Beverly Bayne.
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120 Photoplay Magazine I would talk to Beverly Bayne neither in the parlor nor behind the camera ; I would endeavor to capture the real girl, away from home and off the job. She rides, but my periscope never caught her on any horizon of Lake Shore Drive. She motors, but I fell down there, too. I only motor when some one pities me, so perhaps that's that particular reason. She plays tennis, and she walks, and she shops, but always the mystic lady eluded me. Then, just as 1 was about to surrender to custom and call up the picture-works, I found her. She was tabled on the roof of Chicago's Hotel LaSalle, and, until I came, had been enjoy- ing her dinner. There was an "Im- pression" of B. B. in a recent Photoplay Mag- azine which referred to her as "something one glimpses in a limousine, in a night of cold and rain." Meaning, I sup- pose, the distinction, but perhaps not the aloof- ness of The Lady. I know of no finer Lady in the whole range of the interpretative arts. It is this gentility, re- finement and breeding, together with a distinct cordiality, which is the first Bayne thought that her presence conveys. When I read about A Personage I don't like my mentality cluttered up with a lot of chaotic suggestions by the author, covering a very few facts about The Personage. Let us proceed to facts. I said to Miss Bayne: "I am going to ask you the question which has occurred to me more times than any other about you : is so euphonious a name as 'Beverly Bavne' real?" "It is," she answered, sipping a bit of water. (I don't think she did take a drink of water, but it sounds like a real story if your character does something besides chat- ter. So excuse it, and believe it.) "It is," she answered, sipping a bit of water. "My full name is Pearl Beverly Bavne ; I've omitted the Pearl." When she was Pearl Beverly Bain; and 104 weeks old. "Because pearls upon a jewel are un- necessary," I answered. She went on to explain that her mother married a man named Van Name, and that many people, therefore, thought that her real name was Pearl Van Name. And I believe she said that the "Bayne" name was originally "Bain," so that the exact nomen- clature of this Essanay star, in toddlehood, was "Pearl Beverly Bain." There are few international successes who are younger, or who have had a simpler ca- reer, or one more devoid of change or startling event. From other sources I gleaned, and may impart the fact that Beverly Bayne is now twenty-one years old. She was born in Min- neapolis. W h e n her parents came to Chicago the fam- ily lived on the South Side, and it was here that Pearl-Beverly heard, one day, that the Essanay company wanted some extra girls. Although that was a very few years ago, it must be remem- bered that the era of pho- toplays, as an outgrowth of "moving pictures," is scarcely old enough to talk. In her own words : "Near us lived my best girl friend, Grace Taylor. Grace and I, quite unbeknown to our families, decided that we would be extra girls in the pictures. I had never been on a stage, knew no theat- rical people, hadn't the slightest idea what a picture studio was like. Neither did Grace. But we both possessed the same adventurous ambition. "We went out to the Essanay studio on Argyle street, and there we were received very kindly, and, after a wait, we were put to work. "We were told to return, and presently I got a letter, asking me to call at the office. Grace didn't get any letter, and I remem- ber that our feelings and opinions on the reason for this were very much mixed. I thought that I had been found just plain worthless, as an actress, and was about to
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'La Fille Au Devant" 121 be dismissed, while — "I arrived at the of- fice, and Harry McRae Webster said to me, with a little smile: 'How would you like to sign a contract, and stay with us awhile?" "Some one might pre-, sent me New York's Empire theatre, or a Kaiser might propose to me — and 1 wouldn't re- ceive such a thrill as I got then. I had life's greatest moment, right there ! "W e 1 1, after that, there seems so little to tell. I had the job, and Grace didn't. In my own happiness I'm afraid I forgot to be sorry for Grace. "My first picture was 'The Loan Shark,' in which I played the lead- ing woman's role. Though small, it was a good part, and since then I have had nothing but leading roles." Miss Bayne has been with the Essanay com- pany ever since, and one of the most redoubtable teams that has ever played in a Chicago studio was made up of Beverly Bayne and Francis X. Bushman. When Bushman left the Essanay company, last spring, he broke up a delightful association of years, and left a very sorry little leading lady behind him. The most efficient part of this association was that it was not a romantic one. Even- day the "Answer Man's" mail used to be loaded with forty styles of this query : "Are Beverly Bayne and Francis X. Bushman married — or engaged?" Of course they are not married ; they never were en- gaged, and never had any thought of being. It was "Bev" and "Bush," and just a couple of good fellows all around. "Mr. Bushman was. and is," says Miss Bayne, "one of the best friends of my life. We often laughed at the people who thought us lovers, but in the fact that no romantic senti- ment ever sprang up be- tween us lay, I think, the secret of our success- ful work. We planned together, we discussed every play, we thought alike. Acting with us was a matter of give and take ; we were just a couple of partners in a business venture — art that's successful is a business venture, isn't it? — and we devised sit- uations and business for each other, helped each other, in every way that we could. "In that way, I want to say that Mr. Bush- man helped me far, far more. I think, than I helped him. Mr. Bush- man became my leading man before I had been so very long in the studio, and so you see I sort of 'grew up' in his plays !" Asked what her fa- vorite plays were — her own screen plays — Miss Bayne said: "When I am doing it, 1 think that the particular play in which I'm working is my favorite. In fact, I can't do any piece un- less I get up an intense
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122 Photoplay Magazine "Picture-patrons will recall her fine delineation in 'Providence and Mrs. Urmy,' last of the Bayne-Bushmans. ' enthusiasm. As I look back over some of my work I recall especially 'Dear Old Girl,' 'Under Royal Patronage.' 'The Masked Wrestler.' 'The Accounting.' 'One Wonderful Night/ 'The Great Silence,' and 'Graustark.' " Picture-patrons, however, will recall her fine delineation in "Providence and Mrs. Urmy," the last of the Bayne-Bushman pictures taken at the Essanay studio. "I think." said the actress, in a semi- critical moment of introspective review, "that there are just two things which make for success on the screen: fair intelligence, and an unflagging desire to follow com- petent instruction, and to learn. When I first went into the Essanay studio I listened intently to every word of my director. 1 tried to do as he told me. As I look back, in the light of what I've learned since. I think some of them told me some very un- real things ; yet a girl will learn to dis- criminate, in time. The right thing will come to her. some day. "I see too many girls coming to Essanay. nowadays, quite sure that they are better actresses than Maude Adams! Self con- fidence is not egotistical vanity ; without the first a girl can't succeed ; with the sec- ond, she probably won't, and it's the be- setting sin of most of the girls of today. They've been told that anybody can be a screen actress ; that it's 'easy money ;' that 'there's nothing to it,' if you will pardon my repetition of the slang. I know a girl must have a fair amount of looks, but the main things are patience, and work." So, presently. I left her. I recall that departing picture most vividly: a chic little figure in brown, with her doll-like hands that her mother used to call, in babyhood, "bird's claws;" her big, dark, wonderful eyes ; all the style that's called Broadway and usually is found in 'Frisco ; the tiniest, high-arched feet ; the piquantessence of hats — Twenty-one, and a celebrity. Most of the college girls are just think- ing of beginning. Thus ends Chapter I, in the Book of Bavne. Reel i The World's Shortest Scenario (In jour reels) . He ; Reel 2 She ; Reel 3 They ; Re,/ ' It
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STAR OF THE NORTH Sfyr, frank Usf/lzams* (SYNOPSIS OF PRECEDING INSTALLMENT.) Paul Temple, leading man of a New York photoplay producing organ- isation, goes with his company into the Canadian woods to take a drama of the North. While tramping through the forest Temple is lost, and is only restored to his associates by June Magregor, a young girl who is as much at home in these fastnesses as a voyageur. Jack Baillie, a scalawag member of the company, is attracted by the girl and begins a cunning siege of her heart. Temple sees her danger, but, bound to a wife he does not love, feels helpless to interfere. He is further handi- capped by his own dawning love for June. At this juncture Temple receives a letter from his wife, who is insanely jealous of his leading woman, one Marguerite French, in which she announces her intention of coming north to break up the imaginary affair of the heart. Illustrated by R. Van Buren CHAPTER IV TEMPLE read the brief, brutal letter from his wife twice, letting each venomous word sink into his brain. Then, silent, hurt, bitterly disap- pointed, he sat staring straight before him, the single sheet dangling from his fingers. She would give him no divorce ; she sus- pected him of an infatuation for Margue- rite French ; was coming here to the camp. It was a characteristic letter, selfish, jeal- ous, hateful. And it was Gertrude's an- swer to his plea for freedom, his effort to end the miserable mistake of their mar- riage and rid himself of a burden that, dur- ing these last months, had grown almost intolerable. He might have expected the refusal, he thought, and the abuse, but this threatened visit — He glanced at the letter again. "I am starting for your camp as soon as I can get ready." The blood slowly mounted to his face and his jaw set. No, she should not do that ! He would telegraph her that — A moment's thought and he realized the futility of that. Long before a message could reach her from this isolated wilder- ness she would probably be on her way to him, and once she had started protests would only hurry her. A feeling of utter hopelessness settled over Paul. Always during the five years of their married life it had been the same. She had thwarted or resisted his every hope and ambition. Five years of it! He recalled as if it had been yesterday their marriage in the Middle West while members of the same road company, and the struggle that had begun upon their return to New York. Temple had wanted a home, but Ger- trude's preferences, lying in the opposite di- rection, she had plunged into the gay night life of the metropolis, leaving him to fol- low or not as he chose. The next year she had refused to go with him when he left for his season's work on the road, and then when stories com- menced to follow him to the one-night stands in the country he knew that the beginning of the end had come. What the exact situation was concerning certain men he never knew and never tried to find out. But gradually as his position grew more and more unendurable, his feelings changed from love to dislike and then to repugnance. The next year witnessed his first appear- ance as a film actor and Gertrude's final separation from him. Since then she had remained immovably in New York, living on the liberal allowance he made her, and appearing in several small "legitimate" parts under the stage name of Gertrude Mackay, by which she was known. To further her freedom and amusement she carefully concealed her marriage, and Paul made no effort to reveal that tragic chapter of his life. As a result it was almost un- known. Yet despite this state of affairs, what Paul had learned of his wife's behavior during the last six months had driven him to ac- tion, and in the hope that she wished to marry again, he had suggested that she take up residence in the West and get a di- vorce. Her letter had been the reply, bewildering, contrary and savage. Most brutal of all was her attack on Marguerite French. He read the charge again. "Everybody knows that French is crazy about you, and I suppose you want to get rid of me so you can have her." 123
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124 Photoplay Magazine Poor vain, misguided, spiteful creature! Paul's anger gave way to a sort of pitying contempt. He knew that public and studio gossip linked his name with that of his leading lady — as always when two people worked together for a year. But he also knew that there was no' truth in it. He neither loved Miss French, nor she him. A feeling of rebellion at his fate began to stir in Temple. Was he never to be free of this incubus? Was it to cling to him forever ? Five years of it now and no hope of freedom in sight. He couldn't endure much more. He was young, vital, brim- ming with youth and success, entering upon his best and most productive years, and this thing dragged him down like a millstone about his neck. Was he never to have an- other chance? Was the best and truest happiness to be denied him? He had dreamed for years that some- where, sometime, he should meet the one girl in the world who would embody every- thing for which his starved being yearned, and to whom he, too, would bring the greatest gift, and sitting in his tent, the murmurous voice of the great forest about him, he wondered if he had found her to-day? At the thought of June his heavy heart thrilled with momentary gladness. He had only met her, yet some intangible quality of hers had gone straight down to the very center of his soul, soothing and healing him like some balm of her deep forests. Motherliness was hers beneath the fresh girlhood, comradeship, innocence; the un- destroyed illusion and the unawakened re- sponse to love. After years of the sordid tragedy of Gertrude he yearned for the wind-blown purity of June as a thirsting man longs for water. Suddenly he was roused from his long absorption by quick footsteps outside the tent, and without as much as by your leave, the flap was thrown back and Jack Baillie shouldered in. Startled by the unexpected entrance, Temple's hand jerked and the letter flew from it almost under Baillie's feet. The latter stooped at once to pick it up. "More gush from the dippy dames, eh," he said, with a twinge of envy. His own mail was very light. "Let's have a look at it." He dropped his eyes to the sheet, but on the instant Temple had leaped from the camp-stool and crushed it in his hand. "Forget that, Jack," he said, sharply, as he took the letter. "Oho!" cried Baillie, half angrily, "a little touchy on that one, eh? A dark secret in the idol's past ! Always thought so, but now I'm sure of it." With a forced laugh he brushed a pile of opened envelopes off one of the trunks and sat down. "But say ! that little wildflower you dug up to-day is some pippin, Paul. Pretty ! Whew ! And innocent ! Say, she's got about all there is to learn !" Paul stared at him with sudden intense dislike. Then he became conscious of how very long it was that he had left June alone. "By George, I'd forgotten! I must go out and — " "Never mind," Baillie assured him, cheerfully, "it's too late now. She's gone. I wanted to take her home, but she wouldn't let me, confound it." "Gone !" "Yes, fifteen minutes ago. Asked after you, too. But say! Do they grow many of 'em like that around here? I'll have to see more of her — as the fellow said of the girl in the bathing suit." With bland familiarity he rambled on, while Paul, a slow anger gathering in him, listened, controlling himself with difficulty. Baillie was a new addition to the Graphic forces, having joined the company just be- fore it left New York. From the first his manner and a certain weakness in his handsome, dark face had repelled Temple, and now as he poured forth his Tenderloin rhapsodies of June, Paul felt that this impression had been well founded. "It's been slower than mud in this prison," confided Baillie easily, "but now I guess I'll be able to worry along, what?" Paul looked the other squarely in the eye. "If I were you," he said coolly, "I'd be a little careful with Miss Magregor." The younger man's eyes opened with as- tonishment. "Well of all the swank ! What do you mean?" "Just what I say. I don't like the way you've been talking for the last ten min- utes, and I thought I'd tell you." Baillie got up from the trunk and glow- ered down upon the other.
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Star of the North 125 Baillie's face flushed at the cool contempt of the other. "Suppose I give a damn what you think?" he snapped. "You're not that girl's guardian, and you can't dictate to me!"
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126 Photoplay Magazine "You did, eh? Well, let me tell you something. You may be the star of this company and have something to say about my work, though I doubt it, but outside of that you've nothing to say, and I'll thank you to remember the fact. I don't need your advice. I can look out for my- self." "And I'll look out for Miss Magregor since I don't think she's able to do it her- self." Temple leaned back, one knee clasped in his hands, and looked up at the other with steady blue eyes in which a spark burned which had a strange tendency to curb the ardor of youth. "I'm telling you this first because I brought her here and feel in a way responsible, and because she's so different from the women that you — or I — are accustomed to. You seem to think that fact is something to take advan- tage of, and I happen to think the oppo- site. That's all." Baillie's face flushed at the cool con- tempt of the other, and his thin-lipped, cruel mouth set tightly. "Suppose I give a damn what you think?" he flashed. "You think too much. You're not that girl's guardian and you can't dictate to me. Now you mind your business and I'll mind mine." "Thanks, I will," Temple told him, quietly, "until your business becomes mine. Then I'll take a hand. And if I ever do," his voice raised slightly, "don't forget that I told you this to-day." Baillie choked. He shook his fist in Paul's face. "Don't you interfere with me," he threat- ened thickly, "or you'll get yours. I give you fair warning. If you butt into what's none of your business I'll break your head. And don't you forget it !" For a moment, with congested face and flashing eyes, he stood over Paul. Then he stormed out of the tent, swearing inco- herently. When he had gone Temple sat for a lit- tle while, his face grave and thoughtful. It was not of the crumpled letter in his hand, nor of the past, he thought now, but of the fact that he had made an enemy. And the fact disturbed him, for he knew that he could have made an enemy at no more inopportune moment in his life. But behind that fact lay another, even more important, the root cause of that en- mity, his swift and eager response to June. It is the fighting, protecting male that love arouses, and here not five hours after their first meeting, he was championing her against the world, masked and, doubtless, unwanted. With Gertrude coming (that thought never left him) could he have done two more unwise, not to say dangerous, things in one day, he asked himself. CHAPTER V It was several days before Temple saw June again. In that time the Graphics had filmed the delayed water "stuff" on the river near the camp, and done a pur- suit by Indians through the nearby forest. It was characteristic of Briscoe that amid all this he found time to dress one of the guides as an English nurse maid and as- sign him to Paul as a delicate suggestion not to go plunging recklessly again through the province of Ontario. Almost one entire day was spent by the chunky director in extracting real tears from Marguerite French. No vaseline or other fake evidences of grief would do for him. The Graphic had invested $200,000 in realism, and realism it would have even at French's expense. "Set for a close-up, Gene," he directed the cameraman, and Perkins dragged his artillery to within a yard of the leading lady's face, a process she relished since there was neither wrinkle nor blemish on its smooth, fair surface. What fear of the bench is to a baseball player, the fear of the close-up is to a film beauty. Then with a cap on the back of his head and a cigar in his mouth Briscoe wrestled with the pump handle after this fashion : "Good God, princess, how sorry you feel for yourself ! Think ! That white woman has stolen your husband!" (French was still Na-shi-go.) "Every wrong that men commit has been committed against you, and you have no redress. You are an out- cast among your own people. Young and beautiful, your life is ruined, and now they are going to take the baby away from you. . . ." Briscoe was walking up and down, excited and much moved. "The child is so patient and gentle. ... It has only one pitiful little stick with a rag about it for a doll to play with, and at night its little arms steal about your neck
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Star of the North 127 so warm and soft and trusting!" He turned to her, tears in his eyes. "And they're going to take it away from you, the only thing you have, your one last pitiful possession. My God, will they leave you nothing !" He was directly in front of French now and he suddenly thrust his head forward and looked in her eyes. "Hell ! Dry as a bone !" he snorted and, drawing a handkerchief to wipe his own tears away, prepared to put on more agony. He succeeded at last, not through ten- derness, but by a lengthy disquisition on French's defects as an actress. They were tears of rage he evoked, but they were tears. "Snatch it!" he told Gene Perkins, wearily, and the precious pearls were ground into the black box to be preserved forever. . . . Then came a day when it was too dark to "shoot," and Paul dragged Briscoe to Fort McLeod in the interest of the "loca- tion." "Fort, me eye! What do I want with a fort? Scenario doesn't call for it," growled the director, as they walked down to the river. Paul's answer was unintelligible. His eye was roving among the craft tied to the pier. "Wonder where that red canoe is," he said. "These others leak. That's the third time this has happened." "Someone else out probably." Temple did not answer, but as he took his place his face grew stern. During the recent busy time in camp fortune had favored Baillie in that he had not been needed for the scenes taken, and Paul had noted his almost continuous absence. Since their interview in Temple's tent, the two men had tacitly avoided each other, but neither had receded from his position. This morning when the crescent of beach before the fort came in view the red canoe was plainly visible drawn up on the sand. Paul's jaw tightened. Baillie had a per- fect right to come here of course, but he, Paul, would find out the results of his coming ! When they had climbed the steep path up the bluff and stood on the clearing be- fore the fort, Briscoe stopped short in his tracks, his bright eyes glancing delight- edly from one detail to another of the picturesque scene. He turned briskly. "Great!" he exclaimed. "It's a find, Paul! Why didn't you drag me down here by the scruff of the neck? We've got to have this. That stockade, those In- dians, and dogs. Oh, mommer !" "But you said a fort wasn't called for in the scenario." "It isn't, but great guns, man, we'll put one in. Let me see, there's a dozen scenes that call for a trapper's cabin. We'll change 'em to this fort, and I'll work up three or four more to go with 'em. Hullo, there's Baillie. And a girl." The couple had just emerged from the door and stood on the low veranda uncon- scious of the visitors. Baillie leaning care- lessly against a post, bent towards June, who was looking up at him as if listening intently to what he said. "Yes, I brought her to the camp the other day, but you didn't wait to see her," said Temple, grimly. "Let's go up." They advanced, beating off an attack of the savage Indian dogs, and June, turning at the uproar, saw them. Temple thought she gave a start, but the next instant she was coming toward them with her long, undulating stride. Baillie, scowling, fol- lowed slowly. "You said you were coming to see me again, but you didn't," said the girl, frankly, to Temple when the introductions were over. "This is the first chance I've had to pay my party call," he returned, smiling. "Will you forgive me for not seeing you before you left the camp the other day?" He wondered whether it was imagination that made him think her cheeks were flushed more than he remembered them, and her eyes brighter. "Of course, . . . but do come up to the house. Father is back, and he's so anxious to meet you." They went for- ward together, Paul and Baillie nodding to each other perfunctorily. Briscoe, who, oblivious of the girl after the first moment, had been examining his surroundings, broke in sharply: "Those Indians want to earn some money?" June laughed. "They couldn't use it if they did earn it! Food and guns and traps are their money. Besides, they leave for their hunt- ing grounds to-morrow."
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128 Photoplay Magazine "Humph ! Don't let 'em go. How much of their time is a side of bacon and a bag of flour worth?" She laughed again, the clear, silvery laugh that had seemed to Paul like the tin- kle of one of her trout streams. "I don't know, but I'll ask them. But come up to the house first." As they reached the veranda there ap- peared in the open doorway a lean and wiry-looking man of middle height, with grizzled hair and mustache, who examined his visitors with a pair of piercing gray eyes. He was dressed comfortably in shoe- packs, corduroys and faded jacket. He welcomed his guests with "the reserve of good breeding, even in offering the gener- ous hospitality of the northland, and spoke with a racy echo of his native Aberdeen. " 'Tis a gr-reat thing you're doin', Mr. Briscoe, the lassie tells me," he said, in- stantly selecting the fountain head of the group. "Play-actin' I conseeder a work of the devil, but this, she tells me, is some- thin' different. Is there money in it?" Briscoe, who knew when patience and much talk were as good an investment as whirlwind activity, drifted with lamblike docility towards the chair the other indi- cated. This man was the possessor of props and scenery that the Graphic Com- pany needed, and Briscoe intended to get them. Paul, June and Baillie were left together and the situation grew difficult. The rela- tions between the men were strained, and the conversation steadily became more trite and perfunctory. Paul noticed that June seemed conscious of this ; or, if not that, he thought, some influence was working in her. Her vivacity was not the ingenuous outpouring of delight and surprise that had so charmed him during their first meet- ing. It seemed a little forced, and a feel- ing grew in him that she was extremely conscious of Baillie's presence. The symptom was as plain as day to Temple. It was the embarrassed unnat- uralness of a fifteen-year-old girl experi- encing her first romance. Except, he thought, grimly, June, for all her innocence and unsophistication, was a woman grown, with correspondingly deep and intense feel- ings. Temple felt instinctively that he was ex- pected to join the two on the veranda, but he sat firm as a rock where he was. This was the thing he had feared, and he deter- mined to counteract it if he had to stay_ all night. Underneath his pleasant, whim- sical banter a chill, sick feeling grew in him. At last Baillie, who since the arrival of the others had been morose and sullen, made an excuse for going and disappeared towards the river. Then Temple and the ■girl as if by common consent drifted to the far edge of the clearing and sat down on a wind-fallen log. "It's good to see you again," he said, simply. "Somehow you make one forget that there is such an ant-hill as New York, and such things as struggle and hatred and disappointment." She turned big, wondering eyes upon him. "Do you think that ! Oh, but think of living in New York! It must be won- derful. Is it true that there are buildings taller than that big tree?" She pointed. "Yes," he said, "you could put two trees as tall on top of that one, and leave enough of the building for a thousand suffocating people to live in." "Oh-h!" It was the exclamation of a child. "And is Broadway so bright at night that it's just like day?" He turned to her with a kind of pity. Baillie's track was plain. "Yes, but it doesn't prevent people shoot- ing each other down when they want to. Why are you curious about all these things? What do you care about New York when you have this glorious, clean, free life to live?" His heart was sick within him. His predecessor had worked with the subtlest poison at his command. "Freedom!" She said the word mus- ingly, not passionately. "How is this free- dom, when I never go anywhere, and never see anyone. There's so much to do, and know, and see, and I've had none of it. Isn't it wasting my life to stay here?" Her gaze was troubled, and all the dreams and ideals that she had newly awakened in him cried out against that first shadow of discontent. "No life is wasted that is happy, wher- ever it is," he replied, earnestly. "A hun- dred years in New York or anywhere else could never give you the things you have now, the different things that make you seem so wonderful to me." He checked himself. "And as for the other things, the
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Star of the North 129 ~JWW~ %-&>*%& 'Somehow, " he said, "you make one forget that there is such an ant-hill as New York, and such things as struggle and hatred and disappointment. "
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130 Photoplay Magazine cheap and flashy things, they never bring anybody happiness. Believe me, Miss Magregor, I know." She gazed straight before her across the clearing, her eyes vague with the awak- ened longings and dreams of youth. As he studied her profile it seemed as delicately chiselled as a cameo. Her hair was a soft, dark mass, and her skin where her shirt was open at the throat finely textured be- neath its tan. Briscoe and Fleming Magregor had left the porch now and were talking to one of the Indians near the discolored tepee. A damp, cold wind that seemed to presage the early winter roared through the great pines and made Temple shiver despite his macki- naw. But June was oblivious of it. She spoke finally without turning to him. "I believe you — I can't help it. But that doesn't satisfy me. Because you've known all these wonderful things, you can choose, but I haven't known them. I want to be able to choose, but I never will if I stay here. I'll be like a log that gets in a back- water in the spring ; the river goes on rush- ing by all the time, and the log simply drifts in a circle or gets stranded. I'm stranded here, and life goes by." Temple was silent for a moment. The flash of uncannily mature logic was unan- swerable; it was the logic of youth which has burst its shell and glimpsed for the first time the possibilities that life holds. "See here!" He made his words light with a laugh. "The day you rescued me you weren't like this. You were proud to live here and utterly happy. New York and you shouldn't be mentioned in the same breath ! The blight of it has touched you now, and everything you learn about it will take away something more you can never get back. You have lost something already." She looked at him now, seriously, stirred by the sincerity of his feeling. "I've lost something?" "Yes, without knowing it ; as a butterfly loses the down on its wings." "Oh !" The comparison was of her own woods and she grasped it. She sat for a long time silent, her brows knit, her under- lip indrawn by her teeth. Then she seemed to come to some decision and her brow cleared. "Yes, but think of all I'm gaining," she said, naively. "And now let's not be seri- ous any longer. . . . Tell me more about New York!" He knew then he was beaten and studied the ground before him for a little. "Well," he smiled, at last, "where shall we begin?" Inside him was a gone, hopeless feeling ; a feeling of futility; of beating vainly against a wall. Baillie had scored first, and with weapons more deadly than steel. Not only had he filled June's mind with the pictures most likely to impress it, but he had fired her imagination regarding himself. Temple could see this as plainly as if she had told him, and he thought grimly that the time when the other's business should become his own was almost at hand. And besides the mingled pity, regret and jealousy that consumed him, every fibre of his being longed for the physical encounter between them that he knew now was inevit- able. CHAPTER VI Jack Baillie studied the fresh young face of the girl opposite him in the canoe. Floating idly in the still backwater in the lee of a little island, they had been fishing, but now their rods lay disused across the gunwales. "Won't you believe I love you, June," he asked, softly, a spark kindling in his daring black eyes. She sat looking down at her hands that were folded in her iap, grave, half troubled, as if she were coping with a new and difficult "situation. "Yes," she hesitated, "I believe you. If you say you love me you must mean it." "And don't you love me a little in re- turn?" he pleaded. "I don't ask much, only a little." "Oh, I don't know, Jack. I like you, but — Oh, it's all so strange. Why should you love me when you've known all the beauti- ful women in New York!" This was not a question, it was amazement. "Beautiful!" His tone conveyed utter scorn. "Why, little girl, compared with you they're the poultry in an old chorus girls' home. I tell you you're the prettiest thing God ever made! And you're wast- ing your life here." His voice softened and he leaned forward a little. "I'm crazy about you, dear, and I'm simply going to make you love me."
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Star of the North 131 Something masterful in his voice caused her to lift her eyes and she met his with a little catch of the breath. With his sleek black hair, and handsome, imperious face he seemed to her a hero of romance, com- pelling and determined. She dropped her gaze again, flushed, flattered, confused. "I don't think you ought to — talk to me that way. It isn't right, is it?" "Right! Of course it's right! Isn't it right for a man to tell a woman he loves her? And if it was wrong I'd tell you just the same. Do you suppose I could help it? And now that I've told you I'm not going to let you forget it. When my work is finished here I'm going to take you away with me to New York where you belong. Why you'd be the queen there in a week !" "Oh, do you really think so?" Her ques- tion was eager, and her vivid face alive with the anticipation of wonders. "Do I think so ! I know it ! Why, little girl, — " he put his hand out and took hers — "together there's nothing we couldn't get away with in that glory hole!" Under his touch she sat quite still for a moment. Then, as if with an effort, she withdrew her hand from his. Was it intui- tive fear or the race-old virginal recoil ? "Please, you mustn't do that," she said, very low. A black look of chagrin passed over his face and he glanced at her keenly. "Oh, won't anything stir you?" he asked, in a hopeless voice. "Are you made of ice? But then I might have known you didn't love me — don't even like me." His voice trailed off tragically. It was the old familiar flank attack of Byronic desolation and tragic self pity. Her quick sympathy responded with a flash of that mothering contrition that has flat- tered men for ages. "Oh, I do, I do like you, better than any- one I've ever known ! You must be patient with me, Jack. I never met anyone — like you before." Then her maiden reserve took command again. "And I Jo so want to go to New York! But of course I'd have to talk it all over with father. I don't know how I could leave him." Baillie's face for a fleeting fraction of a second mirrored an expression that would have puzzled her had she seen it. Then he shiiled tenderly, and leaned nearer to her. "I'm sorry I was cross," he said. "My confounded temperament, I suppose. But — " his voice dropped to a confidential tone — "let's keep our little plan about New York a secret for a while, shall we? It'll be just between ourselves, eh? Even your father sha'n't know. Will you do it ?" Happy once more in the sun of his good humor, she answered his smile with one equally bright. "Oh that will be fun. Yes, of course. And now shall we go back?" When they had landed and climbed up to the fort, a "take" was under way in the clearing. Every day now the Graphics came down to Fort McLcod and shot the scenes that Briscoe's genius had devised. Now the director, with the amused factor to interpret, was instructing the Ojibways whom he had succeeded in hiring, in the "business" for the scene. Temple saw June and Baillie arrive and his face darkened. During the days since his first talk with her he had felt that he was steadily losing ground. Though he had been with her as often as he could, the consciousness of something forcing its way between them had grown upon him. He had not been so foolish as to argue or criticize or disparage the influence of Baillie ; he had only sought by maintaining his normal gay camaraderie with June to offset the attentions of the other. He thought to save her not only from the man but from herself. So far he did not believe that she really loved Baillie, but rather that her quick, un- tried fancy had been snared by his super- ficial charm. That she thought of him as a romantic figure inhabiting a desirable world and moving among great people, was evident ; but this was fascination, not love, Temple reasoned. A single step and the hair-line between this and infatuation would be crossed. Could he prevent it? Paul found his position growing more and more difficult. He dared not take an aggressive part against Baillie, for he had not forgotten the event that drew nearer and nearer each day — his wife's arrival. The event was imminent now. Paul had reckoned carefully and knew that, granting her time to prepare for the trip, she must be on the next boat due down river from the railroad terminus. Successive mails had brought no further word from her, and he took this to mean that she was on the way. In that knowledge he shaped his conduct.
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132 Photoplay Magazine He fought stubbornly to put from his mind any consideration of June except that of her welfare. All thought of loving her he crushed, but with a sensation of beating into stunned silence the quickest, vividest part of him. This was possible so long as he believed that June's interest in Baillie was no more than friendly. Then, one afternoon some days later, came a revelation, a crisis, and a change. . . . Briscoe was in his element. The "Wil- derness Idyl" was shaping up well, and the new scenes were adding just that touch of conviction his instinct told him the film had formerly lacked. The entire company was at Fort McLeod as it had been almost daily of late. The set-up was in the clearing before the fort, and the focus lines included the front of the dwelling, half of the big trading store- house to the right, the Indian "village," and the inevitable background of pointed and spurred pines. Gene Perkins had his "still" camera (a regular plate affair for snapping the most exciting scenes) beside his big Powers, and was gauging his shooting distance. His large cap was turned with the visor to the back and he looked like an aviator. "Nine foot firing line?" he inquired of Briscoe to find out his distance from the principal action. "Nope, twenty-five." The director ran outside one of the white tape lines a prop- erty man had laid down, and dropped his handkerchief. "Camera pick up anything here?" he asked. Gene sighted. "Nope." "All right." Briscoe turned to three or four men in trapper's costume, and beck- oned them. "You fellows make your en- trance from here. You come on talking together quiet enough, but when you see Baillie and Tanner come staggering in from the other side of the clearing — they're starving, you know, and there'll be a close- up of that — you get all interest and ex- citement." The native Ojibways revised their tribal ideas of war paint when they saw the Graphic feminine contingent. The women were ghastly, their faces covered with a powder, phosphorous yellow in hue. Their eyes and eye-brows were heavily blacked and their lashes "beaded." That is each lash had been gummed thick by means of a toothpick with hot black wax, and tipped with a tiny drop of the stuff. It was a process which lent an enlarged and starry look to the eyes, and was neces- sary for distance "takes." In these masks of yellow and black the women's scarlet mouths looked like fresh razor gashes. In the midst of Briscoe's liveliest manoeuvres, June Magregor appeared in the doorway of the low, solidly-built dwell- ing and stood watching the preparations. One bare arm rested against the door jamb above her head, and her slim, lithe body fell into lines of easy grace as unstudied as those of some unwatched wild thing. The director, looking up, saw her, and his eyes lighted. "Perfect type !" he grunted. "Half the atmosphere of the scene." Then, forgetful of half-posed groups, he hurled his chunky body in her direction. "Morning, Miss Magregor. We're going to shoot a scene with this doorway in it, and I wish you would stay right where you are and hold that pose. Will you?" "Oh, you want me in a picture?" She was animated at once. "Shall I stay just like this?" "Yes. Two people supposed to be starv- ing come in from the opposite side of the clearing and I want you to stand here and watch them." "Why, that very thing happened here winter before last!" she exclaimed, but he did not hear her. He had turned away and was beckoning Elsie Tanner. "Make Miss Magregor up," he directed. "She'll be in the picture this morning." Half an hour later, with a last look around, he went to a table just outside the camera lines on which were numerous scripts, weighted down against the breeze with stones. One of these was the type- written scenario, and another a paper ruled in several columns which contained a tabu- lated summary by number of all the char- acters, costumes and scenes. Checking briefly by this latter, he verified the layout before him. "All ready, children!" he bawled. "Now listen. This is the story. Temple has sent his "wife," Tanner, south to a certain lake in care of a trapper (that's Baillie.) The princess Na-shi-go's tribe in revenge for the fact that Temple has de-
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Star of the North 133 serted her and married the white woman, have followed them and stolen their camp outfits and guns. For days they have been without food, and they reach this fort in a starving condition. Got it?" There was a general assent and he threw the script down. "All right, then. Places !" . The two score minor people, including the Ojibways, went through actions in- tended to portray the life of the post in the busy time of early summer. June, made up by this time, was in her station in the doorway. "Is it all right?" Briscoe asked Flem- ing Magregor and Temple who stood back of the camera, and were judging the effect. "Very good," both pronounced, one from the realistic and the other from the tech- nical point of view. "Thanks. Places again. Now Baillie and Tanner." The two principals who were out of sight in a thicket to the extreme right, emerged wavering in their tracks and ex- hibiting what were meant to be signs of starvation. But Briscoe roared : "Baillie, Baillie, you're asleep ! You're dying on your feet! Remember you're starving and you've got the biggest belly- ache in the world. And drag Tanner." The two laughed and returned to their starting place. "All right. Come ahead." Temple, who was not in the picture, looked at June. But he did not see in her graceful, un-self -conscious pose only a bit of atmosphere. He saw in it the expres- sion of something as rare and beautiful as the opening of a flower — the fire spirit of the wilderness before man has found and despoiled it. She was oblivious of him, and stood with her attention fixed on the action of the two principals, who were now crossing the clearing. Baillie who, despite his personal character, was a juvenile actor of excep- tional talent, had caught Briscoe's idea and was acting up to his part. Ragged, gaunt- looking, weak, he staggered on half drag- ging Tanner. June straightened up and Temple saw her face change unconsciously from curios- ity to concern. The dire distress of the two seemed to have actually got over to her. "By gad," muttered Briscoe to Paul, "the girl's got imagination. She's acting, she can't help it." Temple nodded. Meanwhile the minor characters were playing their parts. In- dians and trappers registered surprise, then interest, then excitement. They moved towards the starving pair. Then Temple who was still watching June, saw still another look come into her face, a look of naked anguish and pity that startled him. And suddenly her emotions expressed themselves in action. Totally forgetful of Briscoe's directions, she left her place in the doorway, and with swift strides went towards the central group. Others had already gathered about the principals, but the girl pushed her way through and went straight to Baillie. So naturally did she do it, and so surely, that in a moment she was in charge, giving directions and dominating the scene. She clung to Baillie, supporting him, and as he leaned on her, simulating weakness, she bent over him with a swift look of compas- sion and tenderness that to Temple was like the tearing of a veil before sacred things. "Holy cat! The girl's great!" cried Briscoe, and then bounding forward, shouted, "Whoa ! That'll do. Now we'll shoot it. And Miss Magregor, I want you to repeat exactly what you did this time — see?" At the first sound of the director's voice, June had started with the violence of her wrench back to reality. Now drawing away from Baillie who was grinning at his success, she looked confused and em- barrassed. "Never mind about disobeying orders," Briscoe comforted her. "You got away with it, and I'll forgive you." At one side Fleming Magregor watched his daughter's debut in silence, his pride in her achievement wrestling with his Scotch conscience. As June went back to her station, Temple turned away from the scene and walked down towards the river. He wanted to be alone. He felt as if his whole being were afire. That look, that moment of tender- ness, had revealed to him the existence of the thing he had dreaded above all others — that June was beginning to love Baillie. That she had betrayed the fact uncon- sciously was to him the surest proof of its truth ; it revealed an inner state of mind
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134 Photoplay Magazine which she probably did not as yet realize herself. Baillie's gradual furtive cam- paign had swept her unknowing beyond her depth. And with this realization of June's love for the other, came a' second ; namely, that, fight and deny as he would, he loved June. Her act had been the tiny flame to set off the train long laid in his heart. His thought, that first day of their meeting, that perhaps she of all the women in the world was to awaken the great love of his life, he knew now to have been a divination. His long years of waiting had reached their inevitable culmination here, and he was as powerless to stay the sweep of forces within him, as he was to push back the flow of the river along which he walked towards camp. And what now would be the effect upon his life of these revelations with their con- comitant struggles and readjustments? The first was to effect a swift and com- plete reversal of his attitude towards Bail- lie. He shook himself free from the pas- sive course he had felt obliged to main- tain, and determined to master not only the man but his influence. He felt with absolute conviction that June's infatuation for the other (he ad- mitted its existence now) was not love, though she might think it was, and he longed to show her, by the glory of the thing that burned in his heart, the contrast between the two emotions. But his interest in wresting June from this infatuation for Baillie was not alto- gether selfish. He was sure of this. He had known Baillie of old. And he knew with absolute certainty that this girl could never find happiness with a man of ideals as far removed from her own as that garish Broadway on which they were fed was from these silent, primal north woods. If she went to New York with Baillie but one fate awaited her, and Temple shuddered as he thought of it. . But here he came face to face with his second and greater problem. He himself was not free. Yet, after long thought, frankly 'admitting this, he still claimed June. "Because I made one horrible mistake, must I pay for it all the rest of my life?" he groaned. "Am I never to have hap- piness?" His head was bent and his face lined with pain as he walked, fighting this bitter- est battle. Then, because love to those natures which ring truest, is a medium for giving, not getting, he pushed the clamor- ous demands of his own starved nature aside. To save June ! That was the first thing. After that, perhaps, the knotted problem of his own desires. It would require time, that rescue, and it would require more ; an ardent courtship which he had not right to pay. A gust of anger shook him. Right or not, he should pay it. The end justified the means. The hopeless pain such a course might cause him he did not reckon, for, thinking of her, his desired of the world, pain and longing became as naught. Just a little time, he pleaded, just a little time ! The trail debouched into the camp clear- ing, practically deserted now except for the cooks who were rattling about the big range under the cook tent in the first prep- arations for dinner. Acrid wood smoke from the stove pipe stung his nostrils. Paul walked to the edge of the bank that shelved down to the little natural cove where was the camp landing and pier, and looked across the river. The afternoon was drawing down, and the dense green of the pines on the opposite bank looked al- most black. The sun and a tingling breeze were in his face. Then, as he stood, one of two men who were working about an empty barge at the water's edge, suddenly stood erect and shaded his eyes up-river. Then he bel- lowed joyously, "Boat ahoy !" and pointed. Paul looked, and in the weltering gold of a far bend made out an inch-long black speck which familiarity had taught him was one of the great camp flat boats. Instantly his whole world crashed about him. In the intense depth of thought and feeling the realization of his love had brought, he had forgotten it. Now the meaning of its approach came home with terrific force. On that boat was Gertrude. By evening the whole camp would know of his mar- riage, and, the next day, June. Who would there be then to oppose Baillie? And who to save the girl who could not save her- self? What, too, of all his new-sprung hopes and dreams? (To be continued)
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Mollie offAe Movies Her Correspondence: Compiled 6y^~* Kenneth NcGaf fey Illustrated by Maud Martin Evers FIFTH REEL Hollywood, July twelve, 1915. DEAR Clara Bell, Of course I have told you the way some of these stars is acting over the success I have been making in the silent dram-a, how they would all go up stage and refuse to go on as long as I was in site. Well I was a permanant member of the Lasky all star stock company for a few minutes and coulda soon been running blanche Sweet a close second when the blow off came. It was this way. Me and Ger- aldine Farrar, and Mr. De Mille and all of us went down to take the bul fight scenes in Car men, which by the way hasn't got a darn thing to do with cars, but tells all about a lot of Wops, at the Stadium (yes thats the right spel- ing) before 20,000 of the e-light of Los Angeles when the bul saw me and refused to go on. Wouldn't that fog your film, Even the dumn animal knew he was running up against a artist. When all this hap- pened I hadn't start- ed to act at all. I was just getting my face in shape to reg- ister excitement and supprise when the bul crabbed the act. It was a shame to, Clara Bell. Al- though I was only one of the 20,000 I " ' You oughta know better than spoil a perfectly good film by horning in that way, ' she says. ' There would be room enough in your mind to stage all the Clansman at once. ' " knew my work was so distinktive that I would stand out above all the others. I had it all doped out to do a faint and a comedy fall into the bul ring and hand the bul a hunk of hay in a jaunty manner that would have got me a job for life. Some jealous cat must have told the bul for when he came into the ring he was as mad as all get out. Clara Bell, I never did see a bul so mad. I wouldn't go near him. He actually acted rough and not like a re-fined animal at all. I had a hunch that I would be blamed for it so I snuck out of the grandstand and rambled for home. Believe me, Clara Belle, you could of played checkers on my mantila all the way to Hollywood. Mr. De Mille is a lovely man and has a nice disposition, but they say when he gets mad he would just as soon as not go right down into the ring and run the bul ragged. Since that time I have not been back. Tomorrow I am go- ing down and see David Work Griffit, the director. I have seen them Gish girls and they don't do a lot of things before the camera that I would and I am go- ing to tell Mr. Grif- fit about it. I know if he had ever of seen my diploma he would 135
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136 Photoplay Magazine of given me the part of the Clam in the Clamsman just as well as not. Well there is a fire sale of beef stew down at one of the cafaterias and I think I will attend. All for now. Love, MOLLIE. Hollywood July Twenty. Dear Clara Bell : — Them that like this battle stuff can have it, but not for me never no more. I just assaulted the Al-lam- mo for David Grif- fit and I am off conflicts for life. If I was those soldiers in the trenches I would just drop the whole thing and go home. Bui fights is bad enough but bat- tle stuff has it look- ing like sinful idle- ness. Those Mutual- Reliance (correct speling) studios is a terrible place. Ben- nie Seedman told me that people had been lost in there for days at a time and they kept dogs there to go out and hunt mising persons. Its all right to start into but once when you get inside unless you carry a map you are gone. I am offered a en- gagement, for one day, as a Spanish seenyoureeta for Mr. Chris Cab-annie who is putting on the Al- lam-o. The man said go right back on the stage, but believe me Clara Bell before I found the stage it was time to quit for lunch. You are as apt to end up in a prop- erty room as to find the stage you want. They say the thing was built by a China- men who went bughouse designing puzles. While I was rambling a round trying to find Cab-Annie and his Al-lam-o I runs right into Mr. Griffit. There he was sit- " Mr. Griffit pushed back my tresses to take a peek at my fourhead. . . . I claim he said 'beauti- ful' but others insist he said 'bowveen.'" ting on the stage with his company a round him telling them about the scrip. Not that I wanted to get Mae Marshes job or any- thing like that but I horned right in and sat down with the rest of them. Mr. Griffit caled me over and right there is where the argument started. He pushed back my tresses to take a peek at my four- head and as he turned away he said some- thing. I claim he said "beautiful" while there are others who insist he said "bow- veen." I don't know what the last word means, but from the actions of some of the cats present I feel that there is a veiled knock in it. Then Mr. Griffit told me I had better run along and not keep Mr. Cab-annie waiting so I stepped right a long, but I know I made an im- pression for as I left he said "And they kill people like Lew- creeshaBawrgeeah !" I dont know who the lady is but anyway her name is not in Who is Wich in Flimland. Mr. Cab-annie is a nice little man with a Charley Chaplin mustash. Sam De Grass is in the picture, he is a nice man but he has a mean part. Clara Bell, I could never fall in love with a villan. Wawneeter Hanson is the lead- ing woman. She s e m'e d to be all right, but never acted enough, but would do only wat the director told her. How can those poor nuts know what fire burns in a womans bosum ? We were working in interior sets all day with a lot of shoting and things and were just getting ready to go home when Mr. Cab-annie said be back at eight oclock for some night stuff. What do you think of taking motion pictures at night? This was the attack on
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Mollie of the Movies 137 the Al-lani-o over in a vacant lot near the studio. I was one of the brave defenders inside the building and the mexicans were attack- ing us from the outside. Everybody was shooting away when I get an idea that would have helped the scene wonderfully so all I did was to .open one of the big doors and walk over to where Mr. Cab- annie was directing by the camera and asked him in a quiet lady like voice if I couldn't save a child or something. With a prop kid I could have done a dandy close up sliding down a rope or something. He didnt take it in the helpful spirit I meant at all. You know, dear, some people hate to have suggestions made them. He is one of them. I came darn near going over to Tom Wilson and asking him to come- back long enough to hand the fresh direc- tor a haymaker. Neadless to say I resigned at once. I would not lend my art to any guy who dished up the language he did. No one in Hollywood slept while he was doing the picture and I hope he gets pinched for dis- turbing the piece. When I was over taking my makeup off one of the extra girls had the nerve to bawl me out for cutting in on the scene. "You oughta know better than spoil a couple of miles of perfectly good film by horning in that way." she says. The idear, she said, walking right across the four- ground when that big battle was going on. You are darned lucky not to have been beaned by a wad from one of the guns. If I had of been the director I would have stuck you head first into one of the canon and a let it rip. If your mind was under diffusers, she says to me, there would be enough room in it to stage all the sceanes of the Clamsman at once. I wish you could of saw the look I gave her, Clara Bell. All I said was, How your artistic temperment ever got you away from the wash tub is more than I can imagine. With that I sauntered out. When it comes to a call down Clara Bell I am there. None of them have got anything on me. I'll bet if I had of shown her my diploma she would have felt even worse. These here stars cant make me forsake my art. I got a nice room and a landlady who is not in too much of a hurry and I am eating regularly. I'll make these di- rectors appreaciate my talints if I have to start a company of my own. I got to write to the Ten Dollar Mary Pickford for a new diploma. This one is nearly wore out. Write soon Love. Mollie. P. S. One thing I like about the movies is that it keeps you out in the open air. So far that is about the only place I have been. "I snuck and rambled for home. Believe me, Clara Belle, you could of played checkers on my mantila all the way to Hollywood!"
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What They Really Get A DISCUSSION OF STELLAR SALARIES FROM THE PRESS-AGENT'S TYPEWRITER TO THE CASHIER'S DESK By Karl K. Kitchen EDITOR'S NOTE:— Next to the ages of actresses and the connubial state of matinee idols no matter- is of such irritant and piquant perplexity to the fans as- the favorite's salary. Genius seems to be measured by the yardstick of weekly2 dollars in many intelligences, so up and up goes the (pressagentorial) fee, and the most fabulous sums are believed to be paid the creators of that drama which has no third dimension. There are of course great salaries paid to screen players — to a few screen players, but when you hear most of the big salary talk you are safe in using long division. The fact that a few get tremendous sums is in itself proof that the many do not. If they did, where would the money come from? Some of the latest announcements (from the companies themselves) state that Keystone has offered Weber & Fields $100,000 for the half year beginning in the autumn. Fox, they say, is paying William Farnum $75,000 a year; Billie Burke $40,000 for a few months' work; and the Famous Players, to Marguerite Clark, $50,000. Karl K. Kitchen, of the New York World, is not a metropolitan but a cosmo- politan newspaper man, who from Petrograd to Paducah is rated as one who is distinctly "in the know." SOME weeks before Charles Frohman sailed on his last voyage, he walked into the office of his brother, Daniel Frohman, at the moving picture studio of the Famous Players Film Company, on West 26th Street. C. F. had come to chat. Also he had come with a question in his mind. "Dan," he said, "they are saying that you have an actress here to whom you pay $1,000 a week right through the year. Is that so?" "Yes," said brother Dan, "we've got one here to whom we pay $2,000 a week, right through the year." C. F. was impatient, yet half credulous. "Look here, Dan," he said in a moment, "let's not lie to each other. You know I know something about the show business. Such a contract would ruin you." Brother Dan liked the situation. He could be in- dulgent and triumphant. "Well, C h a r 1 i e," he said and reached into a desk drawer, "these don't lie, do they?" He handed his brother a bunch of vouchers. "You'll notice that the weeks are consecutive," he finished. C. F. ran rapidly through the cancelled vouchers. They were weekly salary checks to Mary Pickford. "Well, I'm glad that I'm not in the pic- 138 Mary Pickford's salary is unique in the motion picture industry. Her earning capacity and tremendous following can only be compared with that of Maude Adams. ture business," was his only comment. Some weeks later Daniel Frohman was at his brother's office in the Empire Theater Building. The two men talked half busi- ness, half personalities, as was their wont. "Still paying $2,000 salaries at your place," bantered C. F. "Yes, Charlie. Why?" "No particular reason. I just wanted to know if you were still in the business be- fore I returned the compliment. Do you know how much Maude Adams made for me season before last?" "No, I never heard." "Give a guess." Brother Dan reflected and then ventured that the tour had netted $75,000 or $80,000. "You're way off, way off, Dan," exulted C. F. "My net profit on her tour that season was exactly $171,000." "Now Charlie," said Dan, "I know something about the show business myself." "I'll soon convince you, Dan," said C. F. "Come into this room." "When we went into the next room," said Daniel Frohman as he recounted the story to the writer; "Charlie got out the books and showed me the weekly receipts, just as they had been entered right through the season. I never saw such figures.
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What They Really Get 139 Every week was in the neighborhood of seventeen or eighteen thousand dollars. And there it was in black and white — one hundred and seventy-one thousand dollars." This little incident was related to the writer by Daniel Frohman and it authenti- cates the oft printed stories that Miss Mary Pickford receives a weekly salary of $2,000 fifty-two weeks of the year. But Miss Pick- ford's salary is unique in the motion picture indus- try. Her earning capac- ity and tremendous fol- lowing can only be com- pared with that of Maude Adams. For she is in- deed the Maude Adams of the film. Just as the salaries of actors and actresses in the "legitimate" are usually one-half or one- third of the amount stated by their mana- gers or press agents, the salaries of film stars are only a fraction of what the public is told they receive. In fact, when it is announced that a film star receives a cer- tain amount, the safe rule is to divide it by two and then subtract one-third of the quotient if you are anxious to arrive at the real salary of the player. The fault of ex- aggeration seems to be inherent in every- thing connected with the amusement busi- ness, and it is found in its most flagrant form when actors' salaries are discussed. What, then, are the real salaries paid to movie actors and actresses? With the exception of Mary Pickford, Charlie Chaplin and possibly Marguerite Clarke, there is no film star in America who receives more than $750 a week as salary. Yet dozens of legitimate and vaudeville stars earn that amount in the aggregate. Recognized film favorites like Clara Kim- ball Young, Florence Lawrence, Blanche Sweet, Norma Phillips, Anita Stewart and Ruth Stonehouse. receive from $200 to $500 a week. This is the weekly salary of Clara Kimball Young, who ranks second only to Mary Pickford in popularity. When it comes to male film stars, their salaries are considerably less. From $100 to $400 is the weekly salary for leading men like King Baggott, Francis X. Bushman. Arthur Johnson, Maurice Costello and Carlvle Blackwell. Here are some specifically stated salaries, When it is announced that a film star receives a certain amount the safe rule is to divide it by two and subtract a third of the quotient. per week: J. Warren Kerrigan, $400; Earle Williams, $300; Mary Fuller, $500; Mabel Normand, $500 and Charlie Chap- lin, $1,200. "Legitimate" stars who take fliers in the movies — that is, who are engaged for a sin- gle picture — make the big salaries in the motion picture business at the present time. But their salaries are ex- aggerated in the same way as those of the film stars. As a general rule "legi- timate" stars who go into the movies are not paid by the week, 1 ut by the picture. They frequently receive a stipulated sum for the picture — whether it takes four, five six or even seven weeks to make it. Four or five weeks is the average length of time required to make "a feature film," and during that period the actors engaged for it may be required to give from two to ten hours daily. The largest sum ever paid a legiti- mate actor or actress for making a pic- ture was paid to Sarah Bernhardt. She re- ceived $30,000 from the Famous Players Film Co., for about six weeks' work. How- ever, this was done largely for the sake of prestige. In fact, it was the opening wedge for the entrance of legitimate stars into the motion picture business. The moving pic- ture makers knew that if Sarah Bernhardt posed for them no American actor or actress would refuse to do so on the ground that it was beneath their dignity. Geraldine Farrar is receiving. I should say, a salary nearly, but not quite equal to Mme. Bernhardt's for her summer's work in California. There are many prominent stars who have not yet acted for the movies, but al- most without exception it is because the price they have put on their services has been too high for the film companies. On the other hand, so many legitimate actors have offered their services to the film com- panies that the latter are able to get well- known players at practically their own figures. Three famous actresses who received rec- ord breaking amounts for single pictures are Ethel Barrymore. Lillian Russell and Mrs. Fiske. Miss Barrymore received
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140 Photoplay Magazine $12,500; Mrs. Fiske the same amount, and Miss Russell something less than $10,000 and a percentage of the profits. But $4,000 or less is the usual honorarium of a star of established reputation for a feature film re- quiring four, five or six weeks' time. And not a few well-known stars are glad to ac- cept $3,000 or even $2,000— if they are hard up. Some of the film companies engage le- gitimate actors by the week. The largest weekly salary was paid to Pauline Freder- ick. She received $2,000 a week and her expenses in Rome, while the "Eternal City" film was made. As it required nearly four weeks to make the picture, it will be seen that Miss Frederick received a record breaking compensation — quite as much as was paid to Lina Cavalieri for the "Manon Lescaut" film. Cavalieri was promised $20,000 but received only part of it. Marie Dressier and May Irwin are two famous comedy women who have received big sums for appearing before the moving picture camera. Miss Dressier received $10,000 from the Keystone Film Co. for two pictures, and a contract calling for 50 per cent, of the net receipts from the in- come of the two films. However, the $10,000 was in the nature of advance to Miss Dressier, as it is to be deducted even- tually from her share of the profits. It is not unlikely that Miss Dressier will make $50,000 from the two films during the com- ing year, if the contract is carried out. It is now being disputed in the courts. She spent fourteen weeks making the pictures — an unusually long time. Un- doubtedly her contract calls for the largest per- centage of profits ever given a star by a moving picture company. Within the last few weeks Miss Dressier has won an ac- tion against Keystone in : " which she demanded an ~" * •-••'■--"*'3Sa% accounting of all the re- ceipts of "Tillie's Punctured Romance." May Irwin received $7,000 from the Fa- mous Players Film Co. for one picture. In addition she was given a contract calling for a royalty on the number of feet of film put into circulation above a certain figure. James K. Hackett. who was one of the first of the stage's well known actors to ap- With the exception of Mary Pick- ford, Charlie Chaplin and possibly Marguerite Clarke, there is no film star in America who receives more than $750 a week as salary. pear before the camera, turned down a proposition to star with Pearl White in "The New Exploits of Elaine" on account of his intention of appearing in "Othello" and "Macbeth" next season, and his desire to spend the summer in getting readv. He told me he was offered $10,000 for the series. Martha Hedman received $1,500 for a single picture, recently made at the Peer- less studios, with some scenes taken at Highland Falls, N. Y. J. Stuart Blackton told me that John Bunny was never paid more than $500 a week by the Vitagraph company. And Commodore Blackton ought to know. Many actresses, less well-known than Miss Irwin, receive so much per day and expenses for making pictures in which they are featured. For instance, Miss Margue- rite Leslie was paid $50 a day for a recent feature film. There is a tendency among prominent legitimate actors and actresses to demand royalties — based on the number of feet of film put out above a stipulated amount nec- essary to bring a profit to the film company. or a percentage of the net profits. Such arrangements, of course, greatly increase their earnings — if the pictures are success- ful. In addition, several legitimate actors and film stars have blocks of stock in the film companies for which they act. Conse- quently their net earnings exceed the sala- ries of some other equally competent play- ers. But in nearly every instance the state- ment of their earnings is exaggerated. The highest salary ever paid to a foreign dramatic actress to come to Amer- ica to make a picture was the $1,000 weekly salary which was paid by Wil- liam Fox to Betty Nan- sen, the famous Danisli ■:"r,'-vvjsj|i actress. When Miss Nan- tfz*m§&^^i sen arrived m New York, it was announced that $2,000 was her weekly salary. Thus it will be seen that she is receiving less than half of the stated amount, for a big commission comes out of her weekly salary. Gaby Deslys received $15,000 for a single picture from the Famous Players Co., a film which was made in Paris. This is a record amount for a foreign player.
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What They Really Get 141 Of course many legitimate actors in addi- tion to recognized stars are employed by companies making feature films. These players of more or less prominence — actors and actresses who appear in the support of stars on Broadway — receive from $10 to $50 a day. The legitimate actor or actress receives more money than the film player, not because he or she is better qualified. for the work, but because their names are sup- posed to give "class" to a film. Conse- quently film companies like the Famous Players and the Jesse Lasky Feature Play Company pay higher salaries than the com- panies which make general films. As an example of the salaries paid to well-known "top-liners" the $500 a week to Annette Kellerman while the film called "Neptune's Daughter" was being made is significant. Miss Kellerman was given an interest in the film, which later she dis- posed of for $12,000. Such a well-known actor as George Faw- cett received $2,400 to go to California to make one picture. Jane Cowl, Dustin Far- nura. William Courtleigh, John Barrymore, Macklvn Arbuckle. and dozens of other legitimate players receive less than $4,000 for each feature film in which they appear. At the present time the tendency is toward cuts in salaries. And for a second picture a legitimate actor or actress receives much less than for a "first appearance." The really big money that has been made and is being made in the motion picture in- dustry— always aside from Mary Pickford's remarkable salary — is being made by the manufacturers and owners of big blocks of stock in film companies. J. Stuart Black- ton, S. Lubin, W. N. Selig, Carl Laemmle, George Kleine and George K. Spoor are a few of the new crop of moving picture mil- lionaires. As many more are on the road to future fortunes. Among the technical directors who re- ceive large salaries are David Wark Grif- fith, whose film "The Birth of a Nation" is earning large returns. Tom Ince, Mack Sennett and Edwin S. Porter of the Fa- mous Players. Their earnings are very large, because in addition to their salaries they receive royalties on the films manu- factured, or have large holdings in the companies. Why are "Kitten Girls?" "YJJ/HY," complained a picture 'fan,' "do ™ they use so many fluffy little kitten girls in the moving pictures?" This important query, affecting the fu- ture peace of nations, was referred to a well known director who is rather noted for using so many girls of this type in his pic- tures. He smole a sly smile. "Picture theaters," he said, "Have grown much larger in the past year or two. The result is that the figures on the screens have to be a great deal larger. "In a recent 'closeup' that I produced, the face of the girl shown was over six feet across. Her eyes were more than a foot and a half wide. If she had had any wrinkles in her face, they would have looked like Panama canals. On account of this excessive enlargement it is important to use girls whose faces have not many lines. Hence the fluffy kitten." Long live her fluffiness ! The Mother Tongue Wags THE poor old English language of Shakespeare has a hard time keeping pace with invention these days. Hurried human thought hasn't time to go dawdling around the nice hedge-rowed paths of syn- tax, but takes a short cut and adds another to the lexicon of slang. As a result our old mother-tongue is hanging out from ex- haustion like a rabbit dog's, and is fast falling back to be cared for by the pro- fessorial Red Cross who are in the caboose of progress with Sanskrit and the early Chinese writings. Among the contributions of motion pic- tures to the language is the phrase "Acting on the dime," a georgeade meaning acting in photoplays. The expression is derived from the early plaints of actors who found that they had much less room to work in pictures than on the stage. When a pro- fession grows its own slang is usually means it has come to stay, and "Acting on the dime" is as good as it comes.
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MMM«nwv!'.:i.',iMvi.:'i'Wiii'iiH.!i '.-an ,'ii'i. .'■■'i,i. ■■.■ i . ' ij:1 \ ^'Wimmmiimwumviiumiimim^ Hints o/z Photoplay Writing Photoplay Magazine's authority In this department Is one of the most successful scenario editors and writers in the world. Many of the most interesting film features are his creations. VI EDITOR'S NOTE: — A concrete example is of great service by way of illustration. At the request of the Editor of Photoplay Magazine Captain Peacockc Itas selected, with great care, from hundreds of manuscripts which came to him in his executive capacity, a two-reel scenario. The "working text" is herewith reproduced just as it was used in the Universal studios. The author is Max K. Rausch. The photoplay was directed by Ben Wilson, and it featured Mr. Wilson and Miss Frances Nelson. It is to be commended for its conciseness, and its small cast of players. At this juncture in Captain Peacocke's instructive chapters it is deemed advisable to present a distinct "example," even though the price is the omission, for one month only, of this department's entertaining as well as authoritative infor- mation on the invention and construction of photoplays. Do not miss Captain, Peacocke's November instalment; it is brimful of facts that every photoplay- maker, amateur or professional, ought to know. "Neutrality" — A War Drama in Two Reels. Synopsis. Alphonse Marteau, a Frenchman, Iron Cross decoration. Max refuses ; Schmitt and his daughter, Jeanette, live on ranch ; his gets them himself. neighbor, Franz Schmitt, German, and his son, Two weeks later. Schmitt recovered from live on adjoining ranch. Both Marteau and Marteau's sword wound. Max meets Jeanette Schmitt are veterans of the Franco-Prussian coincidently on river where she is getting war of 1870. They are good friends though water ; they plan to reconcile their parents. In and Max, son of Schmitt, is suitor for Jean- the meanwhile Schmitt went riding and finds ette. Jeanette is knitting scarf for Schmitt's Marteau unconscious, owing to a fallen log. birthday. Schmitt binds up Marteau's injured arm with News of the European war comes to both scarf Jeanette made him, which he always families, bringing back to both men the mem- wears. Schmitt places him across his horse; ory of their fighting, 44 years ago. Schmitt brings him to Marteau's home. Schmitt leaves goes to Marteau and finds the tricolor on the Marteau in care of Jeanette. staff before his house ; enters house and finds When Marteau recovers consciousness he Marteau in old uniform, covered with decora- recognizes Schmitt's scarf and feels remorse; tions ; Marteau in great excitement starts argu- he sends for Schmitt and Max and a recon- ment and gets insulting, finally striking Schmitt ciliation follows. A picture comes to both with his sword. Max coming in with Jeanette, men's minds; both see themselves in their uni- Marteau forbids Jeanette further friendship forms while between them stand Max and with Max ; Max takes his father home. There Jeanette, holding stars and stripes. So peace Schmitt orders Max to put German flag on his and contentment reigned in both hearts, staff and to get old German uniform with the Moral : In a neutral country be neutral. CAST : with game ; congratulates his father on Alphonse Marteau, - - French farmer birthday. Jeanette, His daughter 2. Exterior of Marteau's house. Mar- Franz Schmitt, -------- teau comes out ; looks around ; re-enters. - - - - German neighbor of Marteau 3. Parlor interior. Jeanette on. Mar- Max, --------- His son teau comes in, looking for Jeanette ; finds A mail carrier. her knitting scarf for Schmitt's birthday. 4. Close. Jeanette shows scarf to her LEADER: Subtitle 1. Peace and Friend- father. ship. 5. Parlor same as scene 3. Marteau and Jeanette leave room. Scene 1. Parlor in Schmitt's house. 6. Exterior of Marteau's house, same Schmitt on. Schmitt reading ; Max enters as in 2. Marteau and Jeanette leave on 142
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Hints on Photoplay Writing 143 horseback to see Schmitt and bring scarf and wishes to birthday. 7. Woods. Show Marteau and Jeanette riding. 8. Exterior of Schmitt's house. Mar- teau and Jeanette arrive; knock at door. 9. Parlor in Schmitt's house, same as in 1. Schmitt and Max on. Marteau and Jeanette enter, received joyfully; make merry ; Jeanette puts scarf on Schmitt ; joy and thanks; Max and Jeanette exit. 10. Schmitt's garden. Jeanette and Max caressing. 11. Garden. Schmitt and Marteau walking in garden. 12. Bench in garden. Max and Jean- ette on, caressing ; the two fathers come from behind bush and watch them delight- edly ; lovers walk out of scene ; fathers shake hands. Subtitle 2. Sad Tidings. 13. Schmitt's garden. Schmitt and son working in garden ; mail carrier enters, bringing mail with news of European war. 14. Close. Show paper close, contain- ing news about war between France and Germany. 15. Back to scene 13. Schmitt and son express regrets. 16. Schmitt's stable. Schmitt and son saddling horses to bring news to Marteau. 17. Fields. Schmitt and son riding. 18. Marteau's garden. Marteau on. Receives mail and news about the war ; goes excitedly into the house. 19. Parlor. Jeanette on. Marteau enters excitedly ; shows papers to daugh- ter; Marteau takes flag from cupboard and both exit. 20. Exterior of Marteau's house. Mar- teau and Jeanette come out of house: Marteau starts to put up flag ; Jeanette protests, no use ; flag goes up. 21. Parlor, same as in 19. Jeanette enters, sobbing. 22. Road. Schmitt and son riding. 23. Parlor, same as 19. Jeanette on. Marteau enters in uniform with decora- tions, poses and flourishes sword. Subtitle .?. Fighting Old Battles. 24. Garden. Jeanette on. Schmitt and son arrive and greet Jeanette ; exchange news ; Schmitt asks for Marteau ; Schmitt goes towards house, while Max and Jeanette seat themselves on bench. 25. Window. Schmitt looking through window, sees — 26. Parlor. Marteau posing in uni- form. 27. Window, same as 25. Schmitt looking into window ; goes toward door. 28. Door. Schmitt knocks at door. 29. Parlor, same as 26. Marteau hears knock at door; goes to open door. 30. Door. Schmitt on. Marteau opens ; Schmitt enters. 31. Parlor. Schmitt enters, offering Marteau hand in greeting; Marteau re- fuses ; starts argument about war. 32. Bench in garden. Max and Jeanette kissing. 33. Parlor, same as 31. Marteau gets insulting, strikes Schmitt with sword. 34. Bench in garden, same as 32. Max and Jeanette hear noise in house ; exit. Subtitle 4. The Other Veteran of the Franco-Prussian War. 35. Parlor, same as 33. Marteau and Schmitt on ; Schmitt wounded on head ; Max and Jeanette enter; Marteau forbids Jeanette further friendship; Max and his father exit. 36. Room in Schmitt's house. Schmitt and son enter ; Schmitt orders Max to take German flag from bureau and bring Ger- man uniform; Max protests; Schmitt gets flag himself. 37. Garden before Schmitt's house. Schmitt comes out from house and puts up German flag. Subtitle 5. For the Fatherland. 38. Attic. Schmitt getting uniform from old trunk, lovingly. 39. Parlor in Schmitt's house. Max on. Schmitt enters with uniform and shows to son the single decoration, The Iron Cross, telling him about the war of 1870. 40. Close. The Iron Cross. Subtitle 6. Lonely Hearts. 41. Mountain and woods. Max sitting on log : whittles stick ; downcast ; exits. 42. Mountain overlooking Marteau's farm. Max enters and looks to farm long- ingly. 43. Fade in Jeanette in her garden. 44. Back to scene 42. Max exits. 45. Bench in garden. Jeanette sitting on bench, lonely and dreaming. 46. Fade in scene 32.
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144 Photoplay Magazine 47. Back to scene 45. Jeanette kissing her ring and weeping. Subtitle /. Two Weeks Later. 48. Garden before Schmitt's house. Max cleaning fishing net ; Schmitt comes and asks son to come with him hunting : Max refuses; Schmitt exits. 49. River. Max sitting by the river fishing ; Jeanette appears on opposite side to get water. 50. Shows Max crossing river. 51. Other side of river. Jeannette on. Max comes through river; Jeanette falls weeping in his arm. 52. Close view of Max and Jeanette. 53. Back to scene 51. Max and Jeanette seated on rock; plan to make peace between their parents. Subtitle S. Anxious for Netcs. 54. Parlor in Schmitt's house. Schmitt reading paper; happy over news of Ger- man victory. 55. Paper close; headlines, news of German victory. 56. Marteau's parlor. Marteau read- ing same paper ; anger and disgust. Subtitle g. The Next Day. 57. Marteau's garden. Marteau read- ing paper; French repulsing Germans; shows happiness. 58. Paper close; headlines of French repulsing Germans. 59. Schmitt's parlor. Schmitt reading same paper ; disgust. Subtitle io. The Accident. 60. Woods. Marteau busy with cutting tree; tree falls striking head and pinning arm ; unconscious. 6 1 . Close ; close view of Marteau pinned under log and still unconscious. 62. Woods. Schmitt riding ; sees Marteau ; hastens forward. 63. Woods, same as 60. Schmitt ar- rives ; pushes tree back. 64. Close. Schmitt kneeling at Mar- teau's side ; binds injured arm to splint with scarf. 65. Back to scene 60. Shows Schmitt taking Marteau on his horse and leading him to his home (Marteau's home). Subtitle if. Goad for Evil. 66. Gate at Marteau's garden. Jean- ette leaning on gate dejectedly; sees Schmitt approaching with Marteau over horse ; Schmitt takes Marteau from horse and brings him into house. 67. Marteau's room. Schmitt and Jeanette bring Marteau in and lay him on couch ; with kind words to Jeanette, Schmitt exits. 68. Close. Marteau recovers conscious- ness ; recognizes Schmitt's scarf : is re- morseful. 69. Back to scene 67. Jeanette enters ; Marteau shows her scarf and tells her that Schmitt saved his life. Bids her to go and bring him ; she exits. Subtitle 12. Reconeiliation. 70. Schmitt's garden. Schmitt and Max on ; Jeanette arrives ; asks them to come to her father. 71. Marteau's room, same as in 67. All enter Marteau's room ; Marteau extend;: hand to Schmitt, which is gladly taken. 72. Vision. . Marteau and Schmitt ir- uniforms ; Jeanette and Max between them, holding stars and stripes. 73. Back to scene 71. Schmitt seated by Marteau's couch ; Jeanette in Max's arms, kissing, etc. Happiness. Fade out. The Movies Make 'em Mis; The Small Boy — All day suckers ; the swimming hole ; dime novels ; tick-tack raids ; cigarettes ; chores ; lessons. The Working Man — Settling the Euro- pean war ; socialist meetings ; Lemp's ; the evening paper ; Anheuser ; Pabst. The Nursemaid — Washing the baby ; washing the baby's four-cornered toga ; kissing the park cop ; kissing the "mars- ter ;" Laura Jean T.ibbev's works. The Hypochondriac — The joys of mis- ery ; visits to the doctor ; symptom sym- posiums ; Peruna ; the clairvoyant; the spir- itualist fest. The Commuter — His supper ; Saturday- night shave ; the boys in the back room ; the date with the wife; Kelly pool; the last train. The Saloonkeeper — Old friends ; cash- register rhapsodies ; beery singing ; the face on the bar-room floor; feet on the third rail.
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een ana Heard at ike Movies Where millions of people — men, women and children — gather daily, many amusing and interesting things are bound to happen. We want our readers to contribute to this page. A prize of $5.00 will be given for the best story each month, and one dollar for every one printed. The stories must not be longer than 100 words and must be written on only one side of the paper. Be sure to put your name and addresson your contribution. Think of the funniest thing you have ever heard at the movies and send it in. You may win the five-dollar prize. Baby's Pin-money — Gets $5 ROSENSTEIX took his wife and baby to the picture show, but while there the infant began to cry, and the Rosenstein family was requested to leave, the manager refunding the money. N'cxt week, while at the same theater Rosen- stein became bored. "Do you like this show, Becky?" he asked his wife. "Xo, it's bum,-' she replied. "All right," said Rosenstein, getting his hat. "Stick a pin in the babv." " E. D. Hallock, Baltimore, Md. Amorous Incorrigible A MAN had just died in the picture, with his eyes wide open. Sud- denly he blinked. "Oh, the dead man winked," cried a girl to her escort. "Well," explained the explainer ; "he's just flirting with death." Naomi Esse, Newark, N. I. Eternal Masculine THE ladies were as black as the No. 8 pool ball, and as woolly as the West. "Say, Tansy," asked one, "what Raslus done git married fob ?" "I don't know, Liza chile ; de Lawd knows he keeps right on wuk- kin." Victor C. Casper, U'ilkes-Barre, Pa. Achillean Armor OUR hero was leading the last desper- ate charge, which was to turn the tide >>f battle. Shells burst above him, bullets whistled through the air. his men fell all around him. but he rushed on unscathed. "He must be wearing Paris garters." remarked the nut. ■Why?" innocently inquired the victim. "Apparently." said the nut, "no metal can touch him." T. C. Rogers, Binghamton, -V. )'. Lunacies of the 'Wealthy ON the screen, head bowed, the "high class" pater familias was asking the breakfast blessing. A small piiiing voice was heard to exclaim : "Oh, Mama, he's talkin' to his taters, same as papa says they does." Florence House, Springville, Iowa. Hand-Me-Down Cachinnation WILL you please re- move your hat?" implored the thin man. "Why should I ?" snapped the fat lady, ahead. "I paid, and I want to laugh, too," pleaded the t. m. "Well, you watch my shoulders, and when I laugh, vou laugh," gig- gled the hateful f. 1. Ruth Bell, Bronx, N. Y. Provident Providence T^VO middle aged wo- lien had followed the ordeals of the young wife of a movie drunk- ard, with their handker- chiefs to their eyes. Tilings went from bad to worse, until triplets came to the sad wife. "Oh the poor thing," wept one of the women. "What'll she do now ?" "I don't know," snif- fled the other cheerless- ly, "but when God sent the rabbits, he sent also the grass." George N. Eriksen, Elizabeth, N. J. 145
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146 Photoplay Magazine Love's New Etymology THE lights of the parlor burned low. Curled in a deep leather chair, eyes closed, small Johnny chaperoned his sister and her beau. The lovers thinking Johnny asleep began to knock a few kisses back and forth. At one of these pleasant junctures, falher entered. "Here, what's going on?" he demanded drily. "We were just discussing the kith and kin of the movie actors," replied the flustrated daughter. "Weren't we, Johnny?" "Yeth," replied that derelict chaperon. "Mr. Smith would say, 'May I have a kith?' and Sis would say, 'You kin.' " Joseph J. Fitzgerald, Everett, Mass. A Hold-up Imminent FOUR - YEAR - OLD Johnny was crying because he had to leave the theater, after mere- ly seeing the show once. "Be a good boy," coaxed Mama, "and when the ice cream man goes by tomorrow I'll give you five cents." "You give me five thents," sniffled Johnny, appeased, "and the ithe tream man won't go by ; he'll thop." Pauline Sterling, E. Watertown, N. Y. . * The Reason at Last THERE was a scene on the screen of an old man on his death bed. He had taken an oath to die with his boots on. He takes ad- vantage of the nurse's absence to get his shoes and draw them on. "What does he want to die with his boots on for?" inquired the person who asks such questions. "Oh," said the fellow, who answers them, "so he won't stub his toes when he kicks the bucket." George W. Laurence, Oakland, Cal. Leads Dual Life THE picture play was very moral and strong for the uplift. A man whose pious round- ness of spectacle seemed to mark him one of the cloth turned to a young man in the seat beside him, and inquired sepulchrajly : "My friend to what end has your life work been directed?" "To both ends," came the reply smartly. "I have the only first class hat and shoe store in His Hopes Dashed " A H," exclaimed the enraptured young a\ thing, "the climax of his wooing was so romantic. He proposed to her on the verge of a mountain gorge." "What did she do?" gasped the other. "Threw him over." Mabel McNeill, Sydney, Nova Scotia. my town. Here's my card. Look me up." Edward A. Fuller, Hyattsvillc. Md. An Angry Spell FOUR-YEAR-OLD RUTH was occupying a seat directly in front of two disapproving old ladies. While waiting for the lights to be lowered the child amused herself by kneeling in the seat and surveying the audience. "Not very p-r-e-t-t-y." one of the women spelled, critically to the other. "No, not very pretty, but quite s-m-a-r-t.'" small Ruth snapped over the back of the seat. Florence Townsend, New York. • Da bum-a hurda-gurd" A CAMERA man was taking a picture in a small village. A little girl who had been spreading her skirts and tentatively trying a few dance steps, approached him in deep disgust. "Mister," she said, "it's out of tune; and where is the monkey?" Clara M. Porter, Chi- cago. How Much for Babies? ONE of the ads which were shown on the screen between the reels caused almost as much merriment as the pic- tures themselves. It read: Delicious Ice Cream Sodas. 10 cents at 5 cents. Blank's ; Children, TWO their Miss Cora Slorahn, Chicago, III. © Dress Rehearsal ladies conversed animatedly, while husbands enjoyed the pictures. As the awkward girl in the picture stepped on her hostess' dress, the men laughed brutally. "What happened? Why do you laugh?" de- manded a wife. "Dear, the heroine just stepped on the train before it was wrecked." "It's horrible of you to laugh. Neverthe- less I wish I had been paying attention, for I love those sensational wrecks. What caused it?" "Oh, just a wrong little switch." Floyd Laver, Erie, Pa.
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THE SECOND SHOT 0?i) Elliott 'Balesti'er HOW INNOCENCE FACED THE MURDERER'S GIBBET FOR LOVE Illustrations by Lubln ALICE JASON hesitated. She did not like John Anthony — did not trust him at any time, and tonight she had a dim idea that he had made too frequent trips to the sideboard. His rather coarse face was flushed, and the expression of his bold eyes vaguely dis- turbed her. Still he had done or said nothing in the least out of the way, and there was really no reason why she should refuse his re- quest that they sit out the remainder of the dance. It really ic-as too hot for dancing . anyway. ■ So she allowed him to lead her from the drawing-room into the dim, cool shadows of the conservatory. But almost at once — in spite of reason — she regretted her decision. There was that in the increased pressure with which he held her hand within his arm, and led her deeper into the narrow, green aisles, that rang the subtle alarm bell in her brain. She stopped, striving with a light laugh to throw off the nervousness that oppressed her. "Really," she said, "I believe it is warmer here than dancing." She strove to withdraw her arm, but Anthony held it pressed tightly against him. "Do you?" he replied turning towards her. "I always find it warmer — and pleas- anter — when I'm alone with you." "Mr. Anthony!" The girl stiffened, again trying to release her hand from his arm, but before she could free it he had imprisoned it in his. "Don't play with me, Alice," he said. "You know I love vou. You must know that." Alice drew herself up. "I know you are our guest," she said coldly. "And I believe you are — not your- self. Therefore I can overlook this insult — oner. Kindly take me back." "Is it an insult to love woman?" he persisted, detaining her hand. "Most >men don't think so — in ir hearts." "It is for you" she re- ied desperately. "You e not free, nor am I. You now I am engaged to 'nil Dunbar." "D unba r," repeated Anthony contemptuously. That— milksop !" "He is at least a gen- tleman," flashed Alice, anger banishing the last of her fear. "Take me back instantly or I shall call him and mv father." But instead of obey- ing, Anthony swung her around and gripped "Phil, don't!" she cried. "Don 't make fnel Remember. From the photoplay of the same name by George W. Terwiltiger 147
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148 Photoplay Magazine her with fierce fingers by her other arm. "Don't play the ingenue, Alice," lie said harshly. "I'm not a hoy to be made a fool of. You know I want you and what 1 want 1 get. Any man does who is a man. ( )h ! I have no objection to Dunbar as a fiance," he added with a short, ugly laugh, "or a husband either, so long as he doesn't inter- fere with your loving me — and you must, for I'll make you." With a swift, brutal movement he drew her to him, and for a moment she felt his hot. liquor-laden breath on her cheek, then suddenly the arms that held her were torn away ; she heard the sound of a heavy blow on naked flesh, and Anthony reeling back had fallen panting and glaring upon a bench, while Phil, mad with rage, seemed about to hurl himself upon the cowering form. Hut Alice sprang forward and seized the uplifted arm. "Phil, don't !" she cried. "Don't make a scene ! Remember he is our guest." Hut Dunbar was beside himself. "Let me go !" he cried. "Let me kill the beast ! i heard what he said ! I heard — " Anthony stood up, a cold sneer on his lips. He was a larger man than Dunbar. and far more powerful ; on even terms Phil would have stood little chance, but the test was not to be made, for the stern voice of Alice's father interrupted them. "This is my affair, Philip," he said curtly, his keen gray eyes taking in every detail of the scene. "You will oblige me by taking Alice back to the drawing room. As for you. sir." he continued coldly, turning to Anthony, "you are, much as I regret it, my guest — " "A condition." interrupted Anthony with a sneer, "that need not embarrass you much longer." "That will not embarrass me a minute longer," replied the old man fiercely. "Go, sir, at once ! My patience is not in- exhaustible." "And let me warn you. you hound." flared Phil, despite Alice's efforts to get him away, "that next time we meet I'll be free — to kill vou — and by God Til do it too!" It was not conscious melo- drama. He was very young and verv hot-headed, and he meant exactly what he said at the minute. And he said:' "Bv God. I'll kill vou." II. Alice felt that she could not face her guests again that night in any case. She must have time recover her poise. So begging her father to make some ex- cuse for her she slipped around the veranda to her room, which faced the terraced garden on the lower floor of the rambling, bungalow-like house, and shaken and trem- bling, now that the reaction had set in, threw herself upon her bed. Presently as she grew calmer her thoughts turned to Phil. That his threats were merely the reckless words of a hot- headed boy she knew, but what if he met Anthony before his anger had cooled and time brought wiser counsels. He might attack him. and she realized fully that man to man Dunbar would stand no chance ,..|ntPV(.r R From the pocket of wiuucvcr. I H the waistcoat he Nor B^^B drew out a gold W a S A n t h o n y the sort of man to allow any s e n t i - m e n t of chivalry to restrain him. He was a brute pure and simple, and given t h e ... 1 watch, glancing from it to the clock on the mantel.
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The Second Shot 149 chance would undoubtedly vent his anger on the weaker man without any compunc- tion. She must see Phil before he left the house, and talk sense to him. Rising, she switched oh the light and hastily scribbling a note, asking him -to meet her at their usual trysting place under the elm in the garden at eleven-thirty, rang for her maid and dis- patched it. The local visitors would leave by eleven, she knew, and by half past the last of the house guests would have gone to their rooms. For a long time she lay there thinking, but gradually the weariness that follows excessive emotion overcame her and she slept. it was the staccato roar of motors, and the sound of laughter that finally woke her, and she waited until the last car of depart- ing guests had sped on its way and silence had settled over the house. Then with a dark cloak over her evening dress, Alice slipped out of her window, and stole through the garden, to the big elm with its cozy rustic bench, half hidden, by the bower of vines that covered it. Hut Phil was not there. It was eleven thirty-five. Why had he not come? It was not like him to be late. Perhaps he had gone home first to change his evening clothes, and something had detained him. That must be it. Alice sank upon the bench, her eyes following the gravel path that led to the garden gate. When Phil came she could see him the moment he en- tered the gate. But he did not come. Five — ten min- utes passed. Fearing now that her absence from the house might be noted, she rose to return to her room. At this moment the shadow which had been stealthily fleeing before the moon drew away and revealed something black — black, yet glittering in the path. What was it? What — ? It looked like — ! With a choking, gasping cry she sank back, clutching the arm of the bench convulsively. It was a foot — a foot in- cased in a shining patent-leather shoe ! A man's foot! Phil's! She could not think ; only the words pounded, shrieked, in her brain — "Phil is there! Phil is dead!" over and over in meaningless repetition. Then suddenly she remembered that Phil never wore patent leather shoes. In the flood of relief that the memory brought she almost forgot her terror. Immediately her natural courage reas- serted itself. Someone was lying there — hurt — perhaps dead. Springing to her feet, she hurried for- ward and bent over the form stretched by the side of the path, and once more horror and terror overcame her. Put it was a different terror this time. It was not as it had been when she imagined it to be Phil, yet it was for Phil that she feared, for the man who lay before her. his arms thrown wide, mouth open and eyes staring, was John Anthony — dead; and the dark stain that spread over the lower part of his shirt front and white waistcoat told only too plainly how he had died. Alice's brain reeled with the rush of thoughts that flooded it. Had Phil done this? He had said — ! Had anyone beside herself and her father heard his words? She didn't know. She wasn't sure, but it was more than possible — it was probable, and if so suspicion would point at once to him. Unless? Could it be that in a fit of remorse — or self -disgust- — ? Put no, John Anthony was not the kind of man to kill himself. But as the thought had come to her she had instinctively stepped back, and now as her eyes swept the graveled path, a cry of joy escaped her, and stooping she seized the small revolver that lay almost under her feet. But even as she touched it the cry died to a smothered, hopeless, sob, for she knew the weapon. It was a gold-plated, pearl- handled, automatic, one of a pair that Phil himself had bought, two years before, and one of which he had given to her. Her own was at that moment in her bureau drawer. This one was Phil's. The last hope was gone; in its place came deadly terror for Phil, and then the fierce, unreasoning determination to save the man she loved at any cost — the primi- tive savage instinct to fight for the mate who is in danger. A plan, fully formed, leaped into her mind. Without hesitation, she thrust the pistol into her dress, and stooping, seized the shoulders of the dead man. and strove to drag him towards the house. But the impossibility of the feat became apparent at once, and she paused, thinking as never before. Then her eye fell upon
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150 Photoplay Magazine a toy express wagon, left by one of the children in the garden, and she sprang to it. It was a big one, in which two or three children could ride, and still possessed of the artificial strength that comes to the most delicate person in emergencies, she dragged the body upon it. Slowly, care- fully, to make no sound, she drew her burden to the house. There before the window she stopped, and putting forth all her strength, lifted the body into the room. Quickly then she removed the wagon to a distance. Returning, she hid Phil's pistol in a secret cupboard of her own, at the back of her closet. She worked feverishly. Seizing her dress at the shoulders, she tore it downward, and without removing the confining pins, pulled her hair into wild disorder. Then taking her own automatic from the drawer she stepped to the center of the room. For a moment she paused, looking around eagerly. The scene was set. Noth- ing had been neglected. From the clock on the mantel came a soft, clear chime — the first stroke of midnight, and at the moment her left hand went to her throat, and from it issued one wild, terrified shriek, clear and loud, followed — as her fingers closed, fiercely, bruising and scratching it — by a succession of half strangled screams. Staggering against a chair she upset it. and as her father's voice raised in alarm and encouragement came to her, the pistol roared, and at the same moment a table crashed heavily to the floor. A second later, when her father, followed by half the guests, burst into the room, she stood gasping, disheveled, white as marble — appar- ently almost fainting with terror, crowding against the bureau, the smoking weapon in her hand, and at her feet the body of John Anthony. "He forced his way in the win- dow," she gasped. "He attacked me —I— I killed him! I shot him — in self-defense!" Then before even her father could reach her, she sank to the floor unconscious. 111. Hut Alice's weakness did not last long. The arrival of the police a few moments later, and the necessity for telling her story in a convincing manner, restored her nerve. For Phil's sake she must be brave. It had seemed to her that she had left no loophole by which the truth might be discovered ; but now she realized that the harder part — the searching questions of officials ; the living of the lie she had man- ufactured— was yet to come, and with that realization came doubt and fear. Had she known it, there was little to fear from the local police. Were they the only element with which she had to cope, the ordeal would have soon been over ; the Jason's were too prominent, too wealthy and respectable, for their word to be doubted or seriously investigated. They came; the chief looked about casu- ally, listened to Alice's story of the night's events, including the scene in the conserva- tory—in which there was no mention of Philip Dunbar — corroborated so far as his knowledge went by her father, and accepted it at its face "She is guilty of but one thing— a brave though futile attempt to shield the shyer.
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The Second Shot 151 •'He forced his way in the window!" she gaspzd. "He attacked me — /— / ki'led him!" won't be any trouble, Mr. Jason." remarked the chief. "It's a perfectly clear case of justifiable homicide. Of course we can't touch the body until the coroner comes, and I'll leave a couple of men here to look after things, but as far as Miss Alice is concerned, I don't think there'll be any- thing disagreeable. Most likely the cor- oner's jury will bring in a verdict that will clear her." He broke off to address a slim, pleasant- faced, smooth-shaven young man, dressed in correct evening clothes, who at that mo- ment appeared in the door. "Why, how- de-do, Mr. Herbert. Johnny on the spot as usual, I see. But there's nothing here for you I'm afraid. Perfectly clear case." He rapidly sketched the details of the case as told him by Alice. "Mr. Herbert," he went on, turning to Mr. Jason and Alice, "is the man who ran down the Firber mur- deress, and solved the Carter case. He's visiting Colonel Denbeigh down the road, as perhaps you know. On a vacation, he says'. But it seems he can't keep away from trouble." The detective bowed gravely, his keen eyes roving with extraordinary rapidity around the room, but he did not reply to the loquacious chief directly ; instead he turned to Mr. Jason and Alice. "Do you mind if I look about a little?" he asked courteously. "It is possible that I may be of service to you in the matter." Mr. Jason hesitated, but after a moment bowed his assent. "If the chief does not object, we certainly do not." he said a little curtly. "Sure, sure." added the policeman, quickly. "Go as far as you like. But hang me if I see what good it'll do you." A slight dry smile curved the detective's lips. He moved rapidly about the room, peering here and there. Before the mantel he paused, looking for a moment at the clock, but only twice did he touch any- thing. Once, when he took up and exam- ined the pistol, and again when, from the debris beside the fallen table he picked up a scrap of paper, glanced at it. and care- lessly crushing it in his hand, apparently tossed it into a waste basket. Finally he came to the body; kneeling beside it he examined it carefully ; once he raised a foot, and looked closely at the patent-leather shoes. Then from the pocket
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152 Photoplay Magazine of the stained waistcoat he drew out a gold watch, glancing from it to the clock upon the mantel, while the others watched him curiously, and with varying emotions. To Alice the ordeal was the worst of the even- ing. The swift, assured motions of the man. and his absolute silence, terrified her. She felt that if something did not happen she would scream or faint.- Her nerves were at the breaking point when Herbert replaced the watch and rose. "Do you mind if I go out on the porch?" he asked quietly. "I would like to be alone for a moment to arrange my facts." Without waiting for a reply he stepped swiftly to the window, opened it, and dis- appeared, closing it behind him. He was not gone long. In five minutes he was back, slipping into the room with the curious, silent speed that marked all his motions. For a moment he stood looking from one to the other ; then he turned abruptly to the girl. "Miss Alice," he said quietly, "this evening you wrote a note to Philip Dunbar asking him — " He opened his hand, disclosing the scrap of paper he had picked from the floor and apparently cast aside, "to meet you under the elm at eleven- iliirty. Did he keep the appointment?" Alice started. "Where did you get that?" she gasped, her dry lips scarcely aide to form the words. "I sent it by — " she stopped, unable to proceed. But a frightened voice answered from the door- way. "I took it, Miss Alice, but Mr. Phil had gone, and when I brought it back to you, you was asleep, so I laid it on the table." Alice breathed a sigh of relief. There was nothing in the note she knew to in- criminate Philip. "No," she replied boldly, answering the detective's questions : "I did not understand before why, but he did not come. I waited from half past eleven until five minutes of twelve — it — it was then that — that //(.' followed me." Herbert smiled slightly. "I do not know if the truth which I have discovered will be agreeable or not. To Mr. Jason I be- lieve it will be, for I am prepared to state positively that his daughter had nothing to do with this man's death — she is guilty of but one thing — a brave, though futile, at- tempt to shield the slayer." Alice's face, already as pale as seemed possible, turned ashen. "What — what do you mean?" she gasped. "Let me give you the facts," returned the detective. "The bullet that killed An- thony passed through the pocket of his vest, shattering the shaft of his watch and stopping it at one minute past eleven o'clock. The bullet fired by Miss Alice, admittedly at twelve o'clock shattered the works of the clock on the mantel, stopping it on the stroke of midnight ; further, from her pistol but one shot was fired. "Again I find upon the dead man's cloth- ing numerous traces of gravel ; upon the heels of his shoes, and the bottoms of his trousers are evidence that he was dragged some distance over gravel and grass and mold. Also a well defined track from^that window to a point just beyond the elm, where the path is stained with blood, shows where he was killed and how he came here. I can assert with assurance that John An- thony was killed by a pistol of apparently the same caliber as this one, not in this room at midnight, but under the big elm, at one minute past eleven. And further, judging by rumors of a quarrel and threats that have come to my ears and by the fact that Miss Jason was willing to go to the lengths she has to establish an elaborate fiction, there is a strong suspicion that the murderer — or at least the slaver — was — Philip Dunbar." He paused, as with a moan of despair Alice sank fainting — a real faint this time — into her father's arms. Shortly thereafter the detective and the police chief left the house of trouble and strode along the road towards the Dunbar home, to place Philip under arrest. IV. When Alice regained consciousness she lay upon the bed in her father's room, and he alone was with her. A heavy silence brooded over the house of tragedy. The guests had retired to their rooms. In Alice's room two policemen kept guard over the silent form upon the floor. For a moment she lay still, unable to remember what had happened or where she was. Then as memory returned she started up. "Where are they?" she cried. "Where have thev gone? Are they going to arrest Phil?"
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The Second Shot 153 Her father strove to soothe her, but in vain. She insisted upon knowing, but when she learned all he knew — which was little — she closed her eyes in despair — ap- parently in resignation; but it was only another example of the cunning a great love will breed in the most open nature. She must go to Phil ! In some way she must save him ! But that her father would never consent to her leaving the house she knew instinctively, therefore she dissem- . bled. "If — if I could have a glass of wine?" she begged. Her father must go to the dining room and get it, she knew, and then — A moment later she was flying through the garden and down the road, towards the Dunbar home, a quarter of a mile away. Save for a dim light in Phil's room the house was dark when she reached it, and the blank, silent windows told her nothing. Had they been there? Or was it possible, as her father had suggested, that they would wait until the coroner's jury decided something definitely? In either case she must know. The house was as familiar to her as her own, and she knew that in all probability one of the library or dining room windows would be unfastened. In that peaceful, honest countryside there was little fear of thieves. It was as she hoped, and once inside she stole silently up the stairs. Since the death of his father, Phil lived in the house alone, save for the servants, whose rooms were in an outlying ell, so she had no fear of meeting anyone. Such was her anxiety and fear that all thought of the proprieties or anything else was banished from her mind, and without pause or hesitation she pushed open the door of Phil's room and entered. But inside the threshold she paused, a horror greater even than when she found the body of the murdered Anthony depriv- ing her of the power to move — to think — almost to breathe. For the bed was not unoccupied, as she had feared to find it, but a girl's head of tousled gold curls pressed the pillow. One bare arm, round even in its thin- ness, was thrown outside the coverlet that outlined the slender form. A pretty girl, despite the feverish flush, and haggard lines that marred the small, piquant face. With a sobbing, choking cry that seemed to wrack her frame like a consumptive's cough, Alice stood staring, and it seemed to her she could feel her heart turned to ice within her. For this she had done-.— what she had done. And then the girl on the bed opened her eyes — hard, bitter, disillu- sioned eyes — and raised herself on one elbow. "Hello," she said. "Who are you? You are not the nurse. Where's the doctor? Where is Phil?" "Where is Phil?" repeated Alice, scarcely realizing she spoke, not knowing what she said. "Have you done anything to save him? You lie here asleep while they drag him off- to jail — to the gallows. While I—" She stopped abruptly and turned toward the door. "Wait!" cried the girl on the bed. "What do you mean? What are you talk- ing about? Doctor! Doctor Ward! Stop her! My God, what has happened now?" But Alice was already in the hall, rush- ing blindly towards the stairs, and in a mo- ment would have been free of the house, if three steps from the stairs she had not col- lided violently with a large man, who with- out a word took her by the arm and led her back into the room. "What does she mean about Phil?" de- manded the girl on the bed. "Make her speak, doctor ! Make her tell me !" Alice answered without urging — me- chanically— dully. "He quarreled with a man. He shot him. Now they will hang him." The girl sat upright in bed, her hair flowing out wildly around her, her eyes blazing with fever and excitement. "Who? Who? Who do they say he shot?" she demanded. "John Anthony," replied Alice, as a sub- ject replies to a hypnotist. A peal of wild laughter broke from the girl on the bed. "John Anthonv !" she repeated hyster- ically. "The fool's! Phil shot him ?" And then with a sudden change of tone : "You don't know who I am, do you? Well, I'll tell you. I am Elsie Dunbar." "Elsie Dunbar?" repeated Alice, a sud- den surge of joy sweeping over her. "Phil's sister — who ran away three years ago, be- fore I knew him?" "Yes," replied the girl. "Phil's sister,
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154 Photoplay Magazine the one -who made up her mind to go to hell her own way, and went — with John Anthony. I got tired of the life after a while and last night I came home. Phil was out — I got his gun and went to find Anthony. He ruined me ; he should marry me — or take the consequences. He — took — the consequences." "You — you shot him?" cried Alice. "I shot him," returned Elsie grimly. "He tried to bully as usual. Took me by the throat and forced me to my knees. I put the gun against him and fired once — once was enough for him — and for me too, I guess. Where are you going now?" "To Phil !" cried Alice, turning towards the door, but again the doctor stopped her. "Wait," he said ; "I knew nothing of this. Chief Warren and another man came a little while ago. and Phil went out with them. If he has been arrested for this crime, or is suspected, Elsie's confession had better be put in writing. I'll witness it. It will not injure her. The unwritten law will protect her surely. Just wait until I get some paper." Phil Dunbar sat dejectedly in the chief's office, staring dully at the brilliant red carpet that covered the floor. The evidence against him had been reviewed, and that it was damning he could not but admit, but except to insist that he had been home from quarter of ten until they came for him at one-thirty, he refused to speak. "I'm sorry, Phil." said the chief sadly. "Honest, I can't hardly believe it myself. plain as it is. Can't you think of anyone else who might have done it? I wish to God you could." Phil could. The hour of his sister's return ; the state of excitement in which she had arrived; the absence of his pistol from its usual place in his bureau drawer — told its own story to him; but he would not speak. "Well," began the chief gloomily, "I guess there's nothing to do but lock you up. I'd rather — " Without ceremony the door burst open, and Alice, hatless, disheveled, still in her torn evening dress, but with the light of a great joy on her face, rushed in and threw herself into Phil's arms. "It's all right!" she cried, and half turn- ing to the chief thrust a sheet of paper — Elsie's confession — triumphantly into his hand. "Read !" she commanded, and turned once more to Phil. Camera Phantasma^ora 1 1 r$\ i •» :li. /. ai. i A w f- BRfc^aftr -^ B »! KW:*ir '** - Photo by Floyd Photo by Floy.! You'd think this sunrise, but it isn't; it's girl- A rare portrait, from the Blak Tun pyramid, rise, and the mighty optics and caput appearing supposed to be Ee Dith Sto Rah, a favorite panto- above the mountain are Mary Fuller's. mimist of the Brook Lhinn Pharaohs.
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A Regular Boulder 243 East Fifty-Seventh Street. New York City. Editor Photoplay Magazine. Dear Sir : Just another rose for your bou- quet. Ever since a year ago when by chance I purchased Photoplay instead of another magazine which 1 had been reading several years, I have been a sincere admirer of your publication. Now, here come the rocks: It seems to me you are wasting too much space on questions and answers. I notice each month the department devoted to this nonsense is growing larger. Please don't let it! In the August number you had eleven pages of an- swers. Oh! Editor, how could you? Hearty wishes. Grace Hart. On the Other Hand San Franciscb, Cal. Editor Photoplay Magazine. Dear Sir: 1 have just finished reading your August magazine, and I must say it is great. There is not a fault to be found with it. Photoplay is far above any other magazine I have ever read. The personal stories of the players are very interesting: the pictures are bright and clear, and your question and answer department is splendid — tlie best goiny! I am highly pleased with your magazine, and I know hundreds of others who think the same of it that I do. Sincerclv. Edna A. Parker. Our Form Admired Indianapolis, Tnd. Editor Photoplay Magazine. Dear Sir: Am just dropping you a line to congratulate you on the form of your maga zinc as you are now issuing it. Have just fin- ished the August number, and it is about all that could be desired. I am a camera man, and in the estimation of myself and profes- sional associates your magazine far surpasses other magazines in the same field. Where you have it over them is in the accuracy of your technical articles. Keep on giving us plenty of them. Respectfully. M. B. Kingensmith. The Newsdealer Says— Eighth and Walnut Streets, Philadelphia, Pa. Editor Photoplay Magazine. Dear Sir: Just a few words in regard to that twentieth century wonder, Photoplay Magazine. I wish to say, both as reader and seller, that it is the most wonderful monthly ever put out. It certainly has an easy lead over all others, both in the movie and fiction fields. Only one kick and that is : why don't you supply the news company with enough copies of your magazine. We don't get half enough for our trade, and are exhausted a day or two after release. What is your idea in not supplying enough? Have you the subscription bug too? Respectfully. A. Radel, Josel's Newstand. Our Troubadour 551 Government Street, Mobile, Alabama. Photoplay Magazine. Gentlemen : Of Photoplay, Em an ardent lover. 1 read every word from cover to cover. Send me three issues, March. April and May ; They will banish the gloom of a rainy day. All other movie magazines you beat: They are the broth, you are the meat. I hope my words won't cause them pain : They scatter the chaff, you furnish the grain. For three hack numbers I enclose the pay. Please send them to me without delay. May Photoplay continue a sweet monthly rose. Wishing you well, 1 now must close. S. C. Ramsey. The Literary Optimist 490 Twenty-Eighth Street, Ogden, Utah. Photoplay Magazine. Gentlemen : I never read Photoplay Maga- zine until a short time ago. when by chance I came into the possession of a copy. It was so varied and inclusive of all interesting divisions of the moving picture world, that I felt at once I must have it. I am now writing scena- rios, and find Captain Peacock's hints vitally interesting, encouraging and helpful. I wish I knew him personally. I admire his optimism. His articles are so different from those by other scenario authorities. Please send ine the March issue of Photoplay Magazine, as I can't get it here. Optimistically yours, Robert W. Major. Teacher Plays " Hookey " Chicago, 111. Editor Photoplay Magazine. Dear Sir : You must learn how my friends and I enjoy the Photoplay Magazine. It is continually outrivalling all other magazines. 153
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156 Photoplay Magazine and just to illustrate this fact I can tell you that on the date of each issue, all the girls at school are occupied with it instead of their lessons. In history hour the other day the teacher had to take the Photoplay Magazine away from a girl, and what do you think I saw' the next hour, which was study hour in the history room. The teacher herself was simply cramming that very magazine instead of marking exam papers. So you can readily see that your magazine is appreciated. Very sin- cerely, Madeline Ayres: Thanks for This! Somerville, Mass. Rocks and Roses. I think you have achieved wonders with your wholly delightful magazine. As a most ardent film fan I have been interested in every new start in movie journalism, but Photoplay has climbed the highest. It is seven or eight months since I first read this publication, but since then I have not missed an issue. How I read them! It is really amazing to see how fascinating even an old copy can be. Respect- fully, Locis M. Saxhorn. A Beach Pebble Saltaire, Fire Island Beach. Editor Photoplay Magazine. Dear Sir: Allow me the privilege of compli- menting you on the August number of Photo- play. It was the best ever. Not that the older numbers were not excellent, but each month's issue seems better than the last. Sincerely, E. Jones. C. Donner Vetter! Donner, La. Photoplay Magazine. Gentlemen : I can only praise your mag- azine by saying that I enjoy it to the full- est extent, buy it every month and look forward with eager- ness to each new is- sue. My wish is that it may continue to grow, and become even more interest- ing, if such a thing is possible. Very truly, Charles B. Gilbert. Hot Cakes at Hot Springs Our Best Bow Belhaven, N. Photoplay Magazine. Gentlemen: I have just finished reading the August number of Photoplay, and must admit it grows more wonderful with every issue. It*s the same old axiom: To have better busi- ness, make3-our busi- ness better. With your efforts to make each number better I can only see in the near future, your magazine step for- ward as the most widely read in Amer- ica. T. Ralph Jarvis. W'rWi' '' ttuu '££ 52 poop - if V^3>r', ■****" ' u> pnt* morqyllfjfi J£rtcGouifn Hot Springs, Ark. Photoplay Magazine. Gentlemen : Last month, after one day, the supply at our four bookstores of The Photoplay Magazink for July was exhausted. How is that for record breaker at Hot Springs? An Admirer. A Pictorial Rose One of our readers, Mr. McGowan, has taken his pen in hand and given the public an Oliver twist that tickles our vanity so much, we are publishing it. No Circulation Suicide Here Los Angeles, Cal. Editor Photopla y Magazine. Gentlemen : I am just one of many who think so much of Photoplay. There are eight in our family, and as a rule you can find three or four Photoplays in our home every m o n t h, because not one of us will wait for another to finish reading it. Regards to Photo- play. Jack Davis. We Apologize Mitchellville, Iowa. Photoplay Magazine. Gentlemen : I have been a reader of your magazine for some months and like it im- mensely. I have two faults to find. Photo- play does not come often enough, and is not large enough. Sincerely, Miss E. Keister. At First Si£ht Detroit. Mich. Editor Photoplay Magazine. Dear Sir : I had never read a copy of Photoplay Magazine, until I got the August issue from a friend. Now I can hardly wait for the September issue. It is certainly fine! I have seen other moving picture magazines but none have pleased me as much as vours. I was surprised to see so many different parts, which are not in other magazines. I am especially interested in — but what's the use? I am interested in it all! Truly yours, Winona Dwyer.
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"THIS Department Is open to questions of any l reader of Photoplay Magazine, whether a subscriber or not. We are eager to serve yon. but don't ask foolish questions : don't ask questions about religion or photoplay writing. Write on one side of your paper only : put your name and address on each page : always sign your name, but give a title for use In the magazine. Your answers will appear In this department as soon as possible. Don't send communications to other Departments on the page you write your questions. Address your letters to "Questions and Answers, Photoplay Magazine, Chicago." s. s., Seattle, W. K.. Sax Bernardino, and B. B., New York. — The filming of the "Birth of a Nation." took place principally in California, although some of the plantation scenes were taken in the south. Folly 05 per cent of the pictures — all the battle scenes — were taken at Hollywood. The musical accompaniment, with (he exception of the plantation songs, was composed or adapted for this play by Joseph Carl Brlel, and Is n tri- umph In musical environment, as it contributes very largely to the effectiveness of the play. G. F. M„ Ogden. Utah: — Marguerite Snow was formerly with the Kinemacolor and Thnnhouser Companies, with the latter company achieving fame as the Countess Olga in "The Million Dollar Mystery." At the present time Miss Snow Is at the Quality Pictures Corporation studio, of Metro, at Hollywood, California. She is a southerner, born at Savannah, Georgia, Septemlier 0. 1801. and like l'nld Markey attended Loretto Heights Academy in Denver. James* (TTuze, however, was born in your own city in 1.884. J. E. M.. Lbwisbiro. Pens. — "Was Carlyle niackwell's first engagement in the movies with the Kalem Company. In the Blackwell-.Toyee se- ries?" No, Carlyle Blackwell Joined Vitagraph for liis initial photoplay work, after leaving the stage, and went to Kalem alKnit a year later, being with them for four years. After his engagement with Kalem he organized a company of his own. the Favorite Players, but is now with Lasky. his lat- est plav l>ciiig "The Puppet Crown," witli Ina Claire. II. C. B.. Charlton City. Mass. — Full page pic- tures of Mary Pickford and William Russell ap- peared In the September Issue of Photoplay MAGA- ZINE, and we shall be pleased to forward you a copy on receipt of 15c. M. V., Denver. — After much discussion. Anita Stewart herself settled the dispute regarding the color of her eyes. In the interview in September Photoplay Magazine. She says they are brown, and always have been. S. and W.. Petali'ma, Calif. — Champ Clark has achieved a great deal of fame but he is not the father of Marguerite Clark — he is a Democrat * M. P., SIMPSON Mission. Tex. — Evelyn Neshlt. the wife of Harry Thaw, is not a sister of Miriam Neshitt of the Edison Company. Certainly, write us as often as you have questions to ask. E. W.. Kansas City. — Myrtle Stedman and For- rest Stanley take the leading roles in "Wild olive." and either mav be addressed In care of liosworth-Morosco, 220 West 42d Street, New York City. D. .1. D.. Bridgeport, conn. — William s. Hart of the New York Motion Picture Corporation was born at Newlmrgh. N. Y.. Dec. 6, 1876. but he went west when six years old. He is of English-Irish descent, stands six feet two and weighs 104 pounds. He played in Broadway productions for eighteen years and remarks, regarding matrimony, that lie "never had the chance." M. F. M.. Lake Placid. X. Y.— Mr. Wheeler Oak- man has never played with anv company except Selig. He was liorn in Washington, D. C, Feb. 21. 1800. Is six feet in height, has brown hair and blue eyes. He Is married to Gertrude Ryan. I. B. M.. Aberdeen. Miss. — The Fox feature. "A Fool There Was," was filmed in Florida : "The Plunderer.'* with Wm. Farniim, in Dahlonega. Ga.. one of the few active gold mining districts of this country. J. J. St, X. Y. C. — Yes, Marie Eline (the Than- houser kid) and her sister. Grace Eline. are both playing "big time" vaudeville at present. They nave not lieen with Thnnhouser for some time, and It is said a serial is contemplated by the Eline Company. ,T. C.. Elizabeth. X. .T.— Tom Mix. of Selig. was born in Colorado. One of Roosevelt's Rough Riders, he stands six feet one. and has played with Selig in its western films ever since he entered tin* movies. His permanent address is Las Vegas. N. Mex., where Selig has recently established a studio. M. E. X.. Medfobd. Mass. — The desert scenes in "The Black Box" were taken in Deatli Valley. California. Charles Chaplin started with Essanay at $500 per week, and his salary has been advanced several times since then. Just what it is at the present time is difficult to say. K. K.. Cedab U.vi'iDs. Ia. — Florence Dagmar plays the part of Alice, the settlement worker. In "Kindling" (Lasky). Edna Mayo was with Pathe and with Carlyle P.lackwell's Favorite Players, in addition to legitimate productions, prior to Joining Essanay. X. K.. MfRRAV Bay. Can. — "The Warrens of Virginia" (Laskyi was filmed in Hollywood. Cali- fornia, the big battle scenes being taken on the 18.000 acre ranch In the San Fernando valley nearby. The Interiors, of course, were taken at the Lasky studio. L. K. P.. MlLWAt'KEE. — Both Xorma and Con- stance Talmadge are now with the Xational Film Corporation, with studios in Hollywood. Calif. 157
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158 Photoplay Magazine L. B., Cleveland. — Carlyle Blaekwell was born in Troy, Pennsylvania, but spent most of his early life In Syracuse. N. Y. John C'liarnock, Sr.. in Vitagraph's "Island of Regeneration." Is Leo De- laney : Jolin Charnock. Jr., as a boy is Hobby Connelly, and as a man. Antonio Moreno. R. C.. Washington, D. C. — William Worthington —all right! D. C. II., Washington. D. C— .You will find a very interesting and instructive discussion of the film industry in Mr. Davis' article in August Pho- toplay Magazine, "Investing in the Movies." It explains how the films finally .reach the moving picture theatre and the reasons for the business arrangement which is necessary to secure this distribution. C. and A. M. E.. Bei.ton. Tex. — Gypsy Abbott is the wife of Henry King. Just have a little patience and you will see pictures of your friends again — they will be far better than any that are in the old issues. A. 1")., Pine Bluff, Auk. — Florence Lawrence is married to Leigh B. Trafton : Muriel Ostriche is with Vltagraph and may lx> addressed at their Brooklyn office. Try Rosemary Theby and see. A. M. H., Boston. — We doubt very much whether you can procure pictures from "The Birth of a Nation." or "The Clansman." as it Is also called, but you might write the Mutual Film Corporation's New York office regarding them. The Biograph re-Issues appear on the Biograph pro- gram : they arc the property of the film company and not of the director. They are now on the market. A. F. S.. Orange, N. J. — Dame Rumor rampant — Beverly Bayne engaged to Francis X. Bushman ! For the love of Michael, where do these crazy stories start? J. C. J., St. Paul. — We know of no such com- pany. E. L., Little Falls, N. Y. — There Is absolutely no truth in that statement that Vera Sisson Is dead. She's very much alive. L. R., San Antonio. Tex. — Be a little patient and you will see a great deal about Mary Pickford and her new plays. Isabel Rea is with Biograph. II. W.. San Francisco. — Robert Warwick Is ap- pearing In current World Film releases. Mary Pickford has brown hair. J. K., Rochester. Pa. — We refuse to recommend any scenario school, clearing house or exchange. There arc a number of companies filming in the South at present. Nestor is a ITniversal brand. "The Man of It" (Reliance) was released May 20th. X. Y. Z., Santa Barabara. — Ben Wilson is with I'niversal. We shall have to do something very soon regarding a Robert Warwick interview. W. E. H.. Baltimore. Mn. — "The Goddess" was filmed partly In New York City and partly in North Carolina. The wild mountain scenes are in the South. (Continued M. II., Siocx Falls, S. Dak. — Mary Pickford and Owen Moore played opposite in "Caprice," "Mistress Nell," and "Cinderella." Marguerite Clark's eyes are brown, her hair light brown. F. T.. St. Loiis — In "Such a Little Queen," Mary Tickford has the title role, the King is Carlyle Blackwell : the Prime Minister, Russell Bassett ; the Prince, Arthur Hoops, and Robert Trainor is Harold Lockwood. James Kirkwood plays opposite Miss Mary in "Behind the Scenes." A. R„ Springfield, Mass. — The leading parts in "Wild Olive" were taken by Myrtle Stedman. Thomas MacLarnie, Forrest Stanley and Herbert Standing. L. II.. Albany, N. Y". — All of your questions have been answered in the last two or three months, and we wish you would refer to those issues. J. R. C. Elizabeth. N. J. — Brent Lindsev in "The Commanding Officer." Is Douglass Gerrard. S. O.. Manchester, N. II. — Out of hundreds and hundreds of contributions to "Seen and Heard at the Movies," the editor selects those that he con- siders the most amusing, and they appear In Pho- toplay Magazine. If yours did not appear — try again : S. II. D.. Boston — Paramount is a distributing company. They regularly handle the Famous Play- ers. Lasky. Bosworth, Morosco, and Lasky-Bolasco films, but at different times have distributed feature films of the Deutsche Bioscope. Oz Film. New York Motion Picture Corporation. Edison and others. In- cluding releases nnder their own name. "Para- mount." A company of this character corresponds very nearly to the wholesale house of the mercantile field. Mr. D. W. Griffith may be addressed at the Majestic-Reliance studio, Los Angeles. II. E. M.. Minneapolis — The nun in "Hypo- crites" is Myrtle Stedman. R. M. G.. Marshalltown. Ia. — Richard Marcus in "Innocence at Monte Carlo" (Thanhonser) is Ray Johnston. D. N.. Ft. Smith. Ark. — The Mutual brands are : Broncho, Domino, Kay-Bee, Keystone, American, Beauty, Reliance. Majestic, Thanhouser, Falstaff and Komic. Address Florence LaBadle at the Thanhouser studio, New Rochelle, N. Y. F. D.. Cimarron. Kan. — Chester Barnett takes juvenile leads with the Peerless Features (released through the World Film Corp.). C. L. M„ Watertown. N. Y. — We always appre- ciate interesting letters from our friends ; many thanks. L. S., Denver. — Theda Bara may be addressed in care of the Fox Film Company, as listed herein. I. B., CoLt-MRrs. Ga. — Arline Pretty of the Vltagraph was born In Washington. D. C. Septem- ber nth, 1893. She Is the daughter of Mr. Edwin Pretty. Her first stage appearance was with the Columbia Players, a stock company in Washington, but about two years ago she turned to photoplays, on Page 163) The Woman- Question propounded in a nice tangle of tress, fingers, bare arm and a single eye, on page 83 of the September issue of PHOTOPLAY MAGAZINE was Gertrude McCoy. The Edison star had this picture taken in a moment of impish summer humor, and so successfully did she hide her identity that although scores of replies to the query were received, no one fathomed the Bronx-park secret of who she really was.
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Photoplay Magazine — Advertising Section 159 HOW TO INCREASE YOUR LIVING POWER How to Increase Health Promoting Power, Mind Power, Will Power and Pleasure Obtaining Power to an Unusual Degree without Inconvenience, Apparatus, Drugs, Loss of Time or Study Through Conscious Evolution A GREAT, PRACTICAL AND USEFUL PHILOSOPHY The Story of "Conscious Evolution" and Its Discoverer By DONALD RICHARDSON THE simple fact that the human body is built up of billions of cells, all resulting from the evolution of one original cell, is in itself inter- esting, but little more to the average person. The further declaration that health, life and pleasures of the body depend upon the condition of each individ- ual cell compels notice. When, however, along comes an individual who combines intimate scientific knowledge of the human cell with the discovery of the means to insure its health and develop unusual energy and potency — who by reason of study, experience and a certain genius, shows us how without inconvenience, appa- ratus, drugs, study or loss of time, we can put un- usual health and uncommon life into every one of our vast multitude of cells, thus giving the human body and mind the maximum of health, pleasure and power, and do this in a very perfectly natural, easy and practical way — then we are all attention. A Great Secret of Life This is the marvelous secret uncovered in a won- derful little book by Swoboda, a great pioneer in the realm of physiological science. Some day the complete history of "Conscious Evolution" and its discoverer will be recorded, with all its immense significance and far-reaching ramifications. This brief article can only sketch the rough outlines. The story of Alois P. Swoboda is one of the romances of human history. As the discoverer of the origin and nature of the laws governing "con- scious energy" and of a scientific system for apply- ing those laws in a manner that has operated suc- cessfully in over two hundred thousand cases, Swoboda occupies a peculiar niche in earth's hall of fame. He did not merely write a great book, paint a great picture, invent some useful device, or win some particular battle. His fame is built on a far more substantial foundation. He is the wizard of the human body. He is the apostle of the greater, the successful life. Swoboda not only re-creates men and women ; he makes them more powerful, capable, and happy than they were before. He advances them a tremendous way along the line of human development. The man himself — as well as his hosts of enthusiastic clients — is a most convincing example of the effectiveness of his methods. He has revolutionized the methods of energizing the body and mind. The Swoboda System of Conscious Evolution Based on a Knowledge of All Sciences Swoboda fairly radiates vitality, his whole being pulsating with unusual life and energy. And his mind is even more alert and active than his body; he is tireless. He discourses with learned fluency on the science of "Conscious Evolution" which em- braces all other sciences, entering with equal ease and facility on any phase of this all-important sub- ject. Start him on his particular specialty — the de- velopment of human powers — and he pours out a veritable flood of illuminating exposition. Earnest and vehement, he rises to eloquence as he unfolds in his masterful manner the magnificent possibilities of man under the guidance of "conscious energy." Vou are impressed with the fact that you are in the presence of a remarkable personality, a superior product of the Swoboda system of body and per- sonality building. Swoboda embodies in his own super-developed person the best proof of the correct- ness of his theories and of the success of his "Con- scious Evolution." The Aim of Conscious Evolution is Better Minds, Better Bodies, Better Health and More Intense Pleasures Mr. Swoboda must not be classed with ordinary physiologists, physicians, faddists or with those whose aim is merely the development of muscle. Neither his philosophy nor his science is confined to such narrow limits. Swoboda's plan comprehends the complete development of the human being, — increase of internal force, more body power, more brain power, mind power, and, in fact, greater capacity to live and enjoy in every way. He is primarily inter- ested in those influences which make for a fuller and ' more potent life. One cannot remain long in the presence of Swo- boda without realizing that he is mentally and physically a superman. He makes you feel that you are only partially well, and vigorous and ambitious, only partially developed, that, in short, you are only half as alive as you must be if you wish to enjoy to the full the benefits of living, — that you are lead- ing an inferior life. No one can read his book with- out becoming conscious of his wonderful power and personality . Swoboda is a Man Who is Centuries in Advance of His Time His discovery of conscious evolution is itself of epochal importance. But its scientific and successful application is more wonderful still. The feat of Franklin in drawing the electric spark from the clouds was a wonder of the time. Yet it When you write to advertisers please mention PHOTOPLAY MAGAZINE,
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160 Photoplay Magazine — Advertising Section took a hundred years to master the secret of that electric spark and harness the giant force of elec- tricity to the uses of mankind. Swoboda not only discovered the marvelous secret and principle of Conscious Evolution, but applies it to individuals with results that are incalculable. Swoboda might, indeed, be called a specialist for the human race. A single electric spark is of little importance. But intensify that spark and multiply it a billionfold, and you have the power, the heat and the dazzling lights of a great city. So with our cells, says Swo- boda. Quicken' one, and it makes little difference. But energize and intensify them all, and you have a "live-wire" human being, with mental and physical potency plus! — the Swoboda kind of body and mind. What would happen to a business man who allowed half of his workmen to idle away at their machines, not only losing their own time and effort but inter- fering with the producing power of the rest of the force? Yet that is exactly what the average human being does with the workers in his physiological factory. You have a most ingenious, pleasure and power producing machine in your possession. The machine that means health or weakness, pleasure, happiness, success, or failure, and yet, you allow it to practically run itself or erroneously believe that when this machine is ready to completely crumble that some physician possesses the magic power of restoring your health and life through the use of a drug. Far from securing health and pleasure, how- ever, this resort to and belief in extraneous assist- ance, really encourages physical and mental decay, because it weakens by non-use and neglect, the body's natural resources, power, and means of re- cuperation. The Human Body is a Machine" War The commander who goes into battle with an in- capable army is handicapped at the start. The man who goes into the battle of life with his physiological forces far below par is foredoomed to at least par- tial failure. The great bulk of us are hardly draw- ing on our tremendous stores of energy and vitality. We are letting our cells grow stale and sluggish. Our human machine should be running in perfect condition in order that we may get the most out of it, — before we can enjoy its full powers in complete "and rounded fashion. Strengthen the vitality of these cells and you not only make the body more alive but the brain more susceptible to new ideas from without, as well as greatly increase its own power to generate ideas. Many a man is getting a great deal of pleasure out of his mind but nothing out of his body. Ponce de Leon's fountain of youth died with him. Your fountain of youth will die with you. Each man's fountain of youth is within himself. Through Conscious Evolution only can you drink to the full of the fountain of youth. Swoboda demonstrates that no matter how old we may be we can through the conscious use of the prin- ciples of Evolution make ourselves full-powered dynamos, with every part and wheel and power- belt thoroughly in trim, working smoothly and at maximum capacity, — too per cent efficient. If you believe you have developed to the highest degree your vitality, energy and powers of living and enjoying, you are, according to the Swoboda Standard, indeed mistaken. Conscious Evolution can lead you to a new r.nd even greater realization of health, energy and pleasure. More power, energy and life are the needs and will be the salvation of tie present generation. The problem has always been how to get them. Eagerly we try each solution offered, swarming like the Athenians after every new thing. And yet the means lie right within us, as Swoboda clearly demonstrates. Conscious Evolution is an antidote to old age in its every form and variety of conditions. It scien- tifically reduces excessive blood pressure, restores elasticity to arteries and turns the dial of physiolog- ical time in the direction of youth, efficiency, vitality and greater pleasure. No one who is energized through Conscious Evolu- tion will be subject to indigestion, intestinal slug- gishness, nervous exhaustion, brain fag, sleepless- ness, nervousness, or any functional difficulty of any character. Swoboda Has Written a Wonderful Little Book This book explains the Swoboda System of Con- scious Evolution and the human body as it has never been explained before. It makes clear Swoboda's new theory of the mind and body. It startles, edu- cates and enlightens. It tells how the cells build the body and how to organize them beyond the point where nature left off, for each one of us. It will give you a better understanding of yourself than you could obtain from a college course; the information which it imparts cannot be duplicated elsewhere at any price. It shows the unlimited possibilities through conscious evolution of the cells; it explains Swoboda's discoveries and what they are doing for thousands of men and women of every age and con- dition. It tells of the Dangers and after-effects of Exercise, and Conscious Deep Breathing. Swoboda's book shows how anyone may possess unusual health and vitality. You will cherish this book for having given you the first real understanding of your body and mind and for showing you how you may be able to attain greater pleasure and in every way a superior life. Thousands have advanced themselves in even- way through a better realization and conscious use of the principles of evolution, which Swoboda dis- covered. It will open new avenues through which you may become successful, in satisfying your most intense desires. It is not a dry treatise on phys- iology; on the contrary, it tells in a highly interest- ing and simple manner just what you need to know, about the body and mind and the laws of their evolution. Do not fail to take advantage of this opportunity to obtain a copy of this book while it is free. Ad- dress Alois P. Swoboda, 1322 Aeolian Bld^., New York City, N. Y. Since writing the above the writer has met a man who said : "Although I have been a close student of the body and mind all my Jife, and am a writer on the subject, Mr. Swoboda's book gave me a deeper conception of the body and mind than I have at- tained from years of study. Intellectual men and women must find his book of great interest. His theory of the body and mind was entirely new to me, and I believe that he is right." Every advertisement in PHOTOPLAY MAGAZINE is guaranteed.
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Photoplay Magazine — Advertising Section 161 OMm FROM RASCH C*N yOU GET GENUINE PERFECT CUT DIAMONDS WORLD'S LOWEST PRICE fer Carat DIRECT FROM IMPORTER TO ¥0U ^iS&WB And Here's the Reason: We import direct from the European dia- mond cutters and sell di- rect to you. No middle- men's profits included in our extraordinary low im- port price of $97.50 per carat. Retail value $150.00 per carat. We save you 35%. WE SHIP FOR YOUR FREE EXAMINATION —SEND NO MONEY Here's the popular Basch Plan. Select any article from our catalogue or from this page. We ship your selection for your free inspection — entirely at our expense and risk — without it obligating you in any way. t We invite you to examine and compare our goods without it costing you one cent. If you don't say the articlewesendyou is the greatest value you have ever seen, simply have it returned at our expense. The Popular New Friendship Bracelet Start your sisters , girl friends, relatives, etc, with afriend- ship bracelet. Solid sterling silver links only 15c each. (Retail value 25c). Black silk velvet bandfree with each link you buy for your different friends. The links arc worn on the velvet band until you have enough links to encircle the wrist; then send us the complete set of links and we con- nect them with Sterling Sil- ver Fasteners for 26 cents. The Friendship Bracelet is then complete und moken n v. ry attract- ive perm:ini'Ot piece of jewelry. Veiling cli irv. . prepaid. Remit in any form con- venient to you. L5 Solid Gold 1 Dia. $1.00 L6 1/2 c. Diamond Compl. $52.00 L7 1 c. Diamond Compl. $103.00 L9 1/8-3/64 c. Dia Special- SB. 95 , ,n 3/8 c. Dia. Compl. $35.75 L11 .Set Special $1.75 per pair A WRITTEN MONEY-BACK GUARANTEE FOR YOU! It protects you against disappointment or loss. A written legal contract to refund in cash full price less 10% should yon for any rea- son wish to return your diamond any time with- in a 3?ear- Also allows full price in exchange at any time. Contains written statement of carat weight, quality and value of the dia- mond. "See that your diamond is Basch guar- anteed." Send for Your Copy of the Basch Diamond Book De Luxe FREE! We will forward you postpaid, a copy of this beautiful book upon re- ceipt of your name and address. It is complete, valuable and authori-A tative. Contains facts written by ^^ life-long: experts which enable you -Tr^r to buy your diamonds and jewel- ^^^. ry safely. Thousands of illustra- ,^v^cy ^> ney saving prices. VC.* t Mail coupon or y»a JrJ$° write us a letter ^vL ° or postcard *^# .>J for your /«5v<r~~ free copy. JJL ■£• NOW! 4**/ T& ff§BF When you write to advertisers please mention rnOTOPI-AY MAGAZINE.
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162 Photoplay Magazine — Advertising Section •MMJ3I3* w !M wm a km a its* THE joy that music brings; the delight and stim- ulation of hours spent in the realms of the master composers and the supreme interpreters of the world's music. Whether it is the magnificent vocal art of a famed diva, like Fremstad, singing Isolde's Love Song; or the superb instrumentalism of Ysaye, unfolding the magic of his art in Brahms' Hungarian Dance ; or whether it is further afield in the lightsome measures of the dance; or whatever it may be — "All the music of all the world" is brought to your home on Columbia Records which play not only on Columbia Grafonolas, but on any stand- /j#wD\ al"d make of disc talking machine. '-' COLUMBIA GRAPHOPHONE COMPANY Box J476 Woolworth Building. NEW YORK This model Columbia Grafonola $200 When you write to advertisers plcaso mention PHOTOPLAY MAGAZINE.
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Photoplay Magazine — Advertising Section 163 M. A.. KlxiKMnxT. So. Dak. — In Universalis "Doorway of Destruction." Edward is Jack Ford and Frank is Howard Daniels. Francis Ford leads. A. K. I!.. COKNIKO, N. Y. — Yes, William Dunn plays in "t'he Juggernaut" t Vitagrapli i. The last two letters in "La Badie" are not silent. In "Stronghcart." Molly Livingston Is Gertrude Rob- inson ; she is now with I.nsk.v. • Tinf Amkiucax Film Mfo. CO. is reported to he in the market for one. two and three reel scenarios and desires manuscripts siihmittcd. • Mi V. (\, CmcAiio. — Chester Harnett is the clerk in ".The Tit." Norma Phillips. "Our Mutual Girl." •In "The Dancer and the Kins" I World I the Dancer is (Veil Spooner and the King Is Victor Southor- land. .. X. Y. C. — Win. F. Haddock, who has directed plays for F.dison. Melies, Kclair and other companies, entered the moving picture field in ,11)08: lie was horn in Xew Hampshire, and before becoming interested in photoplays was on the stage. • It. J. (i.. MINNEAPOLIS, Mixx. — Iioscoc Arluukle is ninrried to Minta Diirfee. also of the Keystone Company.. {Catherine I.a Salle, tiny Coomhs and Robert D. Walker take the leading rides in Kalem's "An Innocent Sinner." c, samples of Woodbury's Facial Soap, Facial Cream and 1'ovider. Address The Andreiu Jergens Co., 2102 Sprint; Grove Avenue, Cincinnati, .0. In Canada, addrest The Andrcvi Jergens Co.. Ltd., 2101 Sherbrooie Street, Perth, Ontario. When you write to advertisers please mention I'HOTOl'LAY .MAGAZINE.
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164 Photoplay Magazine — Advertising Section She is Beautiful! — has a Beautiful COMPLEXION MADAM, if you only knew what a difference Carmen Powder does make in the appearance of the complexion you would, we believe, at once begin the use of this Pure, Harmless aid to Real Beauty — One that adds real charm to the complexion without seem- ing artificial — one that keeps the skin fresfi| and dainty in appearance and blends perfectly with the flesh tints— a powder that ap- peals to the refined and wellj groomed woman. CARMEN Com pie x ion 587 Olive St., St. Loom, White, Pink, Flesh, Cream. 50c everywhere. Refuse substitutes— they are not like Carmen. Purse size Box and Mirroi — Box containing two or three weeks' '/A »_ #v_„ p_J supply (state shade) sent for 10c / silver and te stamp. Stafford-Miller Co., Trimmed, '/A Orange col- gj ored Box Seen Everywhere £ii'j Send for 116-page Jewelry Catalog contain™ over 2000 beautiful illustrations of Diamonds, Watches.Silverware.etc. Make o selection either for yourself or as a sift for a friend or loved one. We will Bend the article for your examination, all charges pre- paid by us. You assume no risk: you are under no obligation. You Don't Pay a Cent until you sec and examine the article. If perfectly satisfied pay one-fifth of the purchase price and the balance in ctghtequalmonthlypayments. If not entirely satisfied, return at our expense. Whether you buy or not, get Our Catalog. It is an education in Diamond and Jewelry values and easy credit buying. Send for catalog today— before you forget. It is FREE. LOFTIS BROS. & CO., The National Credit Jewelers Dept. E502 , lOO to IOS N. State Street, Chicago, Illinois (Esubfishcd 1858) Store, iu: Chicago Pittoborgb St. Loui. P. N. II. — Wallace Rcid takes the part of Phillip Ray in Mutual's "Knock Arden." Wall)- is now playing opposite Miss Farrar with Lasky. V. D., Rogers Park. — Romalne Fielding is with the . Lubin Company, and directing father than acting at the present time, though he leads, as .Terry Long, in "When Souls Are Tried." and as The Mexican Man. in "A Species of Mexican Man." B. W. G.. Wii.kes-Rarre. Pa. — The .Tohnson- Willard fight pictures were taken under the super- vision of Mr. Fred Mace, who is now with the Keystone Film f'o. So far they have never been allowed presentation iu the 1'uited States. L. E. M.. Kansas City, asks us. "Did you know that there is a town in Kansas named for Charlie Chaplin? It's a wee, small town, hut nevertheless It is there, just like Charlie." And probably some day it will go spinning around on one leg. just as he does. H. D. R., Oakland. Calif. — Your interest in moving pictures, both as an art and as an indus- try, is fully justified. The business is firmly es- tablished, hut it has not reached its fullest devel- opment, as is evidenced by the latest plans to intro- duce photoplays at regular "legitimate" prices throughout the entire country. Local conditions will vary from time to time, but the industry as a whole has every promise of an exceptionally bright future : this has been called the Age of Transporta- tion, but moving pictures are creating an Age of Information, and service rendered is always the basis of reward. S. H. S.. Nashville. Tenn. — The cast of "The Crucible" (Famous Players I : Jean — Marguerite Clark: Craig — Harold Lockwood : Amelia — Jus- tinia Johnstone : Mrs. Fanshaw — Lucy Parker : Miss Van. Ostvn — Barbara Wlnthrop: Stella — Helen Hall. L. M. P.. Norwood, Mass. — John Barrymore and Pauline Neff are Mr. and Mrs. Fitzhcw in "The Man From Mexico" (Famous Players). Yes. Har- old Lockwood Is also in the cast as the successful suitor for the hand of Mrs. Fitzhew's sister. R. Iff.. LYNOimrRG. Va. — According to the pic- ture, Trixie died following the gambler's shot, in "The Sins of the Mothers," a sacrilice to her moth- er's evil life. A. R. E., N. Y. C. — The cast of the "Moonstone" (World): Franklin Blake — Eugene O'Brien: Rachel — Elaine Hammersteln : Godfrey White — Itulh Flnd- ious Flayers) : James Ralston — John Mason : Louis Percival — Harold Lockwood: Baron Hartfeld — Russell Bas- sett : Capt. Redwood — Frederick Perry ; Lord Dre- lincourt — William Roselle : Nina — Marguerite Les- lie. 1 k - - » pi- 1 1 , 1 . ■ 1 1 1 1 t 1 1 1 j 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 .-, 1 , 1 1 1 , \ , • 'i j 1 1 William Roselle: Rosanna Spearman- lay. Of "Jim. the Penman' (Famoi E. R. C, Worcester, Mass. — Miss Florence Reed takes the role of Georgiana Carlej* in "Her Own Way :" Sirs. Carley is Blanche Davenport : Sirs. Steven Carley is Clarissa Selwynne : Lieut. Coleman is Robert Barrat : Steven Carley is Fraunie Fraun- holz, and the (irand Duke is James O'Ncil. P. K., St. Paul. — Will Drake, Benton, and Flo Drake are roles taken by Morris Foster, Boyd Marshall and Florence La Badie. in Thanhouser's "Crossed Wires." This film was released June 20th. E. C. I., Monroe. Wis. — Regarding your eutcring the film producing field, you may use any name for the company that Is desired. If It is not in conflict with a name already in use. A license is not nec- essary, unless you mean a corporate charter, which may lw secured from the state in which you reside. All films must he submitted to the Na- tional Board of Censorship, and must he the posi- tives which are used in the theatres. It would be well to correspond with distributers however, in order to learn the opportunities for disposing of your films, before doing very much. : Every advertisement in PHOTOPLAY MAGAZINE Is guaranteed.
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Photoplay Magazine — Advertising Section 165 A Local Salesman Wanted in 50,000 Towns Top Pay for All or Part Time This big concern — The Oliver Typewriter Co. — is famed for its winning sales methods. Yet we are now launching a brand new model in the most brilliant selling campaign in all our history. This means the chance of a life- time for someone in each of 50,000 towns. Those who act at once can secure the exclusive agency for the wonderful new typewriter — Oliver "NINE." 15,000 local Oliver agencies have already been awarded to clerks, bankers, merchants, telegraphers, ministers, doctors, workingmen, etc. These people are already earning handsome incomes by handling the Oliver sales in their towns. Hundreds started by giving us part time. You can too. You can soon see the profit and standing this agency gives you. Then devote all your time to this dignified business. How We Help You Win You can start right away and no experi- ence is necessary. Because this Oliver "Nine," with lightest touch known, has sur- prising new features found on no other machine. One — the Optional Duplex Shift — multi- plies speed and makes touch writing 100% easier! Another— The Selective Color At- tachment—does all the work of a 2-color ribbon and serves as a valuable check pro- tector besides. So this matchless typewriter sells itself repeatedly where agents show the sample. And we let them offer the famous PRINTYPE. too, without extra charge. OLIVER ,A The Standard Visible Writer Printype Slide Films Make your own announcements, run ads for extra revenue — on Printype Quick Slide Films. Any Oliver agent will supply them at extremely low prices. Exclusive Sale We give each agent exclusive sale in his territory. And we send him FREE the "Oliver School of Practical Salesmanship," that has brought success to thousands. Then we furnish names of prospective buyers that come to us from our mighty magazine advertisements. Often we send traveling salesmen to help you close deals. Yet we give you the profit from every new Oliver sold in your territory during your agency arrangement. Agent's Sample Oliver Our plan lets you acquire one of these latest model Olivers that gives the public 25 per cent more value without increased cost ! We let you own your sample on the same terms as the most successful and experienced Oliver agents. You are also privileged to sell on our popular purchase plan — 17 cents a day ! Opportunity Book FREE s Mail the coupon or send a postal for this inspiring book that explains our agency offer. Sent FREE, postpaid. Do not delay, and let someone else get your territory. The time to act is NOW. Mail This to Make Money The Oliver Typewriter Co., 1194 Oliver Typewriter Bldg.. Chicago Send me free, postpaid. Opportunity Book, with details of your agent's proposition. Name . Address . When you write to advertisers please mention rHOTOPI..\Y MAGAZINE.
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166 Photoplay Magazine — Advertising Section XBAZINRVBH REMOVES OBJECTIONABLE HAIR To wear the modish sleeveless dresses, trans- parent sleeves, and decollete evening gowns, the underarm must be as smooth as the face. To remove unsightly hair from the underarm, face, neck and body is a safe and simple mat- ter with X. Bazin. This preparation has been used by ladies of refinement, in theatrical and in private life in Paris and New York for over 75 years. X. Bazin acts quickly, yet gently X. Bazin does not cause the hair to return thick and coarse. X. Bazin simply removes the hair and retards its growth in a natural, normal way. r^ /\ and $1.00 at drug and depart- OUC ment stores. If your dealer hasn't X. Bazin refuse dan- gerous substitutes and send us 50c for trial bottle. If you send $1.00 for large bottle we will enclose free a jar of famous Sozo Cold Cream. HALL & RUCKEL 241 Washington St., New York DRAWING Learn by mail in your own home. C&rtoonfng, News- paper, Magazine and Commercial Illustrating, also Water-Color and Oil Painting Learn Drawing or Painting for profit and pleasure. Wo can develop your talent. Tola school boa tnurht thousand*. Free Scholarship Award- -special Ifmitcd offer. Your name and address brimr* you full explanation and our handsomo illustrated Art Annual by return mail. Don't dolay. Write today. FINE ARTS INSTITUTE, Studio 397, Omaha. Neb. Seiid0nlY20cr For Trial Boiile 71 (Regular 25i:Size) You have never seen anything like this before A new, original perfume extremely lust- ing; the fragrance nf thousands of blos- soms combined in Hieger's new creation « Garden Queen »• For a limited time, send 20c silver or etnmpg for n reKulur 25c trial bottle. Garden Queen is but one of the exquisite line of rTowSrDrops Other odors: Hon Amour, Rose, Violet, Lily of the Valley. Lilac, Crubnpple— all SI. 00 nn ounce at dealers' or by mail. Trial bottle, 25c. Send stumps, currency, money order. Money back if not pleased. Send $1.00 Souvenir box -6 odors, 25e bottles. EXACT Sffi 25* BOTTLE P*01 "'HEX.241 first Slr«L Saa Francisco. CI. J. II. M., Brooklyn. — Edwin August is now with the Comstock Film Corporation, which re- leases its plays through the World l**ilm Corpora- tion. A. C. J. A. M. and M. W. It. Sound Beach. Conn. — Tom Moore is the eldest of the Moore hrothers. Owen next and Matt and Joe the two most recent arrivals. Kd Coxcn is not in the cast of "A Good Business Deal" (American). II. G.. Evansvii.i.e. Ind. — Florence Cole is Elsie McLeod, and Inspector Itohhins. her hushand. is Thomas MeEvoy. in Kalem's "Her Husband's Honor." Antonio Moreno, of Vitagraph. was born in Madrid. Spain, twenty-eight years ago. James Morrison was horn in Mattoon. Illinois. G. B.. CLEVELAND, O. — "The White Pearl" (Fam- ous Flayers i. with Marie Doro, is scheduled to he released early this fall. E. 8.. Soctii Bkxd. Ind. — Jack Standing is Mary 1'ickford's lover in "Fanchon the Cricket." D. K„ Philadelphia. — Catherine is Arline Pretty in "The Man Who Found Himself (World) ; Robert Warwick leads. E. C. C. Charleston. W. Va. — Two Anita Stewart interviews have appeared very recently : April and September. Mary l'ickford is inter- viewed in May Piiotoi-lay MAGAZINE, and another will appear shortly. Blanche Sweet is the subject of "The Girl on the Cover" in April PHOTOPLAY. We do not know of any list of players which covers everyone in the photoplays, and to keep such a directory up to date would l>e out of the question, as many of the actors are with a com- pany only during the production of a certain picture and then go elsewhere. I. K.. Fra.nkkord. Mo. — Borden and Dennison, in ••The Comeback," are Elmer Clifton and Ralph Lewis, respectively. James Cooley is the American in "I.ove and Money." J. R.. X. Y. C.— Marguerite Clark. Harold Lock- wood, James Cooley. Jack l'ickford and E. L. Davenport have the principal roles in "Wild- flower. " In Edison's •'House of the Lost Court." Elinore is Gertrude McCoy : Delores is Viola Dana : Mrs. Edgerton — Mrs. Wallace Erskine : Lady Rosa- mund— Helen Strickland : Sir Anthony — Robert Conness : Captain Elliott — Duncan McRae : Nina — Sally Crute. and the butler is William West. Wil- liam Farnum impersonates Maurice Branchnrd. the man who rose from the docks to wealth and power, in "Samson" (Fox) : Maud Gilbert takes the role of his wife : Marquis D"Andolin is played by E. L. Davenport : the Marquise is Agnes Everett. Max. the son. is Harry Spingler : he is William Farnnm's "partner" in "The Plunderer." Miss Pearl White was born in Missouri. L. M. B.. Brooklyn-.— The Fool, in "A Fool There Was" (Fox P. is Edward Jose, playing op- posite Theda Bara as "The Vamp." The cast of "The Devil" (N. Y. M. P. C.) is as follows: The Devil — Edward Connelly : Isabella — Ressie l'.arri- scale: Harry Lang — Arthur Maude: Elsa — Clara Williams : Mill! — Rhea Mitchell : Alfred Zanden — J. Barney Sherry : Andrews — A. Holllngsworth. K. L. M.. Rochester. N. Y. — Virginia Charnock, in "The Island of Regeneration" (Vitagraph) ia Naomi Chllders. R. McIC, Troy. N. Y. — It is said there is some- thing very mysterious about the great amethyst ring which Mr. Bushman always wears, and no one has l>ecn able to learn Its real history. B. N.. Dayton-, O. — There is no connection be- tween the Famous Players and Pathe Freres ; they are entirely distinct organizations. Richard Travers and Lillian Drew took the leads In "Jane of the Soil." K. A. B.. Little Rock. Abk. — Yes. in "Betty In Search of a Thrill." Betty falls asleep and her adventures are dreams. Tsuru Aoki is Janira in "The Beckoning Flame" (a Thos. II. Ince film). When you write to advertisers please mention PHOTOPLAY MACAZINR
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Photoplay Magazine — Advertising Section 167 K. L. B., X. Y. — Tlie Tlianliouscr Twins, whom you admire so uracil, arc named Marlon and Made- tine :imi their last name is Fairbanks. They live in New Rochelle, N. Y. W. D. W.. Johnstown. Pa. — .Tamos Young. I)'1- lng sucli a well known actor ami director, would probably he rather surprised to learn that you do not know that his wile. Clara Kimball Young, is married. They are one of the l>ost known couples in moving pictures. T. K.. I.ofisvii.r.E. Kv. — William Russell, who plays the role of Blair Stanley, in "The Diamond from the Sky," is at the American Film Co. studio in Santa Barbara, If you are unahle to ohtain photographs from advertisers, he would probably send one to you. E. n vis Chicaqo.- enarlos ftb St- all in New York City. When you write to advertisers please Play Billiards at Home Under our easy payment plan the expense is scarcely noticeable. You will be surprised to find how easily you can own a Burrowes Billiard and Pool Table. No special room is needed. The table can be mounted on dining or library table or on its own legs or stand, and cuickly set aside when not in use. $l«-° DOWN ?£,eaE Prices are from $ 1 5 up, on easy terms of $ 1 or more down and a small amount each month. Sizes of Tables range up to 4'/2x9 ft. (standard). Balls, cues, etc., free. BURROWES Billiard and Pool Tables are scientifically built practice. Many leading experts use them for home Send for Illustrated Catalog i It contains free trial offer, prices, terms, ' tcstimonialsfromowners, order blank, etc. THEE.T.BIRR0WESC0. 180 Spring Street, PORTLAND, ME. Mfi-H. BamWNSpidm Insect Screens, (■cdiir Chi-Hts ant) Folding Curd Tables LANGUAGES IBTfiri Quickly Learned AT HOME by the Original Phonographic German — French — English— Italian — Spanish' or nny other lunguuce learned nuickly m ■ i >~ easily hy the Cortina Method at home* with Disk Cortina-Records. Write for free hooklet today; easy payment plan. CORTINA ACADEMY of LANGUAGES KHI ■«bfll Hide. [(KM) Broadway, Corner 4M||i Street, New York CORTINA-PHONE Do You Need More Money? To help your husband— to help your children— to help your- self? We can show you an easy way that Is dignified, honorable and profitable. The happy, contented women shown above are all free from worry and with money coming in. Kaeh of them hint founded, with our help, a «rowinn and prosperous business und every year sees eneh of them making more money. And these ruses ure hy no means exceptional, for IN MORE THAN 9,000 CASES WE HAVE HELPED ambitions, deserving women. You can do the samcP&a they have done. Sell World's Star Hosiery und Klenn-Knit Un- derwear in your home town. No urevious experience is nacSMSn - we nam yog how to make money in an easy, vunicenial and profiud lo way. Wi- sell direct from the mill to the home throuuli our local i-i-l>ri-Ki-iit:Uivt?.s. am] our lines of hosiery .itid underwear for men. women and children are famous the world over. Write today far our free catalog It tells the whole story Dept. 438 Bay City, Mich. // e have been in business here /or mart than 20 years mention I'HOTOIM.AY SIAGAZTNE,
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168 Photoplay Magazine — Advertising Section CAMERA OCc And Complete Outfit £aA %J Pictures taken and finished in two minutes. No dark room required; no printing necessary. Camera and complete outfit with instructions so that even a child of 6 years can take good pictures of landscapes, buildings, friends, etc. Positively no knowledge of photography required. Money promptly refunded if not as represented. War! On the CameraTrust Another carload of these fine cameras practically given away. Why Pay $5 or $1 When You Can Get This Outfit for 25c ? Complete camera and outfit ready for use shipped prepaid by parcel post for only 25c stamps or silver. CAMERA CO. New York Dept. 112 EASTERN 1162 Broadway New Illustrated. B@@k ( Writ© at once for your free copy of this intensely interest' ing illustrated book showing how disease is successfully eradi- cated through advanced Drugless Healing FREE $25 a Day f^Oin^ Our direct, practi- \*nil%%£" cal, profusely illus- (OLD A a^^TIn^ trated course Ur lUIW I IV surely and quickly prepares you at home, during; spare time, to enter this amazingly profitable profession. Everything so clear and easy that if you can read and write, you can readily master it— splendid openings. Easy, pleasant and surprisingly lucrative. Chiropractors make as high as Free Charts and Lessons For a short time only we offer five complete lesson sections of the Course and $15 set of 8 charts, absolutely free. This offer strict- ly limited. Send your name and address today for valuable free il- lustrated book on drugless healing and full particulars. American Unit crsity, Dept 388, 162 N. Dearborn St. Chicago "DON'T SHOUT" " I hear you. 1 can hear now as well as anvbody. 'How?' With the MORLEY PHONE: I've a pair in my ears now, but they are invisible. I would not know I had them in, myself, only I hear .all right. "The MORLEY PHONE for the DEAF is to the ears what glasses are to the eyes. Invisible, com- fortable, weightless and harm- less. Anyone can adjust it." Over one hundred thousand sold. Wrltf for booklet ami testimonials. nil; HOKI.KV CO.. Dept. 78i>, Ferry Bide., PMil.-i. Y. B.. X. Y. C. — Mary IMckford is in New York at the present time, as the Famous Players intend to produce most of their pictures in the east for sometime to come, in fact until their new Cali- fornia studios arc ready for occupancy. Mar- guerite Clark comes from Cincinnati, and not Bridgeport, Conn. C. L., Bexson-iu'kst. X. Y. — Charles Chaplin has not liecn Bast recently, and we have no idea when he may go to New York. However, if the rumor, of a vaudeville engagement, this fall or winter, prove true you should see him at that time. E. W.. Indianapolis. — D. W. Griffith and it. A. Walsh are entirely different persons, though both are directors at the Majestic-Reliance studios in LOB Angeles. You should write Mr. Walsh at the studio. P. P. B.. Florida. — You might write to F.leanor Woodruff at the Vitagraph studio in Brooklyn. C. M. IC. Chicago. — Cleo Madison is a former Chicagonn and had acquired much experience on the stage before going into moving pictures. M. A. C. Washington. I). C Lewis, playing Joe. in "The Lily was formerly with Sothern and surmised. - — Yes, Frederick if Poverty Flat." Marlowe, as you C. S.. Ei. Campo. Tkx.. and M. M.. Kxoxville, Tens'. — Clara Kimball Y'oung is with the World Film Corporation and may be addressed in its care. Miss Edna Mayo is not married. P. P.. LOUISVILLE, Kv. — Bryant Washburn is married to Mabel Forrest and may be addressed at the Chicago Essauay studio. P. L.. X. Y. C. — Arthur Johnson has left Lnbin and at the present time we understand that he is at liberty. However, his plans will probably he announced shortly. M. W. II.. Jit.. Xashvii.i.k, Tknn. — Tottle Twin- kletoes in Kalem's "Midnight at Maxim's." is Alice Rodler. "Maxim's" looked rather empty many times in this picture, and the disnppoaarnce of confetti and streamers in close-ups of the enter- tainers, and their sudden reappearance later, was rather noticeable. Alice Joyce is no longer with Kalem, and is not playing at the present time. O. B. J.. St. LOUIS, and E. K.. Ei.izaukth. X. J. — The cast of "The Stoning" (Edison) : Ruth — Viola liana : her father and mother — Charles Sut- ton and Helen Strickland: the Minister — Robert Conness : the hoy — Y'ale Boss : the hrakeman — Harry Beaumont. The rich man's daughter in "Out of the Ruins" is Gladys Hulette. THIS NEW TOY will delight any youngster's heart. It is a smaller model of the Frantz Premier Electric Cleaner — 14 inches high. It has a highly polished aluminum nozzle, revolving brush.dust bag and handle— just like the big one. This size operates without electricity, and can be had for 25c in stamps or silver. It is well worth a dollar, but is sold at the smaller figure qc to any home having electricity in £3C order to advertise the full-size Frantz Premier Electric Cleaner The kiddies like to "keep house" with theToyFrantz-Pre- mier. Soif you want to make a hit with them, and atthe same time give them a toy they won't grow tired of. . send 25c today. Every advertisement in PHOTOPLAY MAGAZINE Is guaranteed.
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Photoplay Magazine — Advertising Section 169 D. B.. Ciacixvii.LE. o. — A picture of Frank Bor- zage. of the New York If. P. C has not ap- peared in the art section recently, so it is impos- sible t» supply Bucn a number. II. I'. S.. Hai.i.ston BPX, X. Y. — While one hun- dred twenty-four subtitles in a four reel picture is a very large number, probably altogether too many, still if they are snappy and to the point, it is possible that their use would be effective. The use of the fade-out and cut-back however, generally serves the purpose of explaining the story, and is far preferable. L. U. I!.. I'iiatt. Kan. Pauline Fredericks may lie addressed in care of the Pamous Players' New York Office, and Miss Pamir in eare of I.asky's Hollywood studio. X. Y. Z.. Deposit. X. Y. — Again the matrimo- nial affairs of Blanche Sweet assume mountainous proportions to one of our readers, but the answer is still that she is not married. Samanthy in "The Lonesome Heart" (American I. is Margarita Fischer, and Sara Pruc is Lucille Ward. G. G. AND r. I.amardc is Thos. Commerford. Boliort Orson is Bryant Washburn and Baron Schoman is Lester Cuneo, As we have remarked before. Marguerite and Ethel Clayton are not related and Miss Norma ml is not married. "The Goose Girl." was adapted from the novel of the same name, and .Marguerite Clark takes the title rob' as the little Princess — Monroe Salisbury is the King. "Wildllower." featuring Miss Clark and Harold Lockwood. was adapted from a book leugth story by Mary Gormainc, which appeared in Muusoy's Magazine. 1!. D. T.. Richmond. Ixr>. — Yes. Gladden James, of Vitagraph. took part in the stage production of "Officer 66tS," as well as "The Third Degree." and "The Girl of the Golden West." His first appear- ance on the stage was in 1SP4, at the age of six, and he Joined the Vitagraph Company in April, 1918. Address Blanche Sweet at the Lasky studio, Hollywood. B. C, Little Bock. Ask. — We are glad that Miss La Badie responded so nuickly to your re- quest for a photograph, but we knew that she would do so, and for that reason we gave you the Information on page 168 of the August issue. Miss Farrar is unmarried. A. W., CHICAGO. Miss Arnold plays the role of the mother, Yvettc, in the first part of "The Swinging Doors." (Universal), and the part of the daughter Margot in the second part. Jean, however, is Murdoch Mac(v>uarrie, and not Prank Macljuarrie. B. It.. Kankakee. 111. — In Lubin's "Whom the Gods Would Destroy," John Strong is portrayed by Joseph Smiley. :md Bice and his brother Tom, are George Soule Spencer and Francis Joyuer. Nell and Laske are played by Ruth Bryan and Lilie Leslie, while the detective is John Smiley. K. B. K„ Hazletox. Pa. — G. M. Anderson, of the lOssanay's. Xiles. Calif., studio, still figures in western dramas, and nearly a dozen were re- leased this summer: "Broncho and the Land Grabber." "Broncho Billy's Word of Honor," "Broncho Billy and the Posse." and others. We like the questions first, and you had tbein just right. It. M. B., Bath. Me. — Dorothy Gist is Minerva in "Minerva's Mission" I Majestic-Reliance) : Cora Drew is her aunt: W. K. Lawrence is Grant, and James Gorman is the workman. Richard Stanton purtrays Dick Morgan. Leona IliiUon — Anile. Thel- ma Salter — Stella, and Edward Biennan — Warner, in Kay-Bee's "On the High Seas." E. P.. Ci.evki.axp. — Yes. Thomas II. Ince played with the Prospect Stock Company in your city six or seven years ago. EVEKiTHINCioWE^i ^ MO WOMtSl-CHILPREN YOU Want CMCtGO MAIt ORDER CO is our 36th season. And we now serve over ONE MILLION customers. It would be strange indeed if, with all this experience behind us, we could not get out a better and more interesting Style Book than anybody else. We Lead in Styles When it comes to Fashion, particularly, in things worn by women, it is pretty generally Ml admitted that we lead. * J To maintain our leadership we spend ^^^-r* -y thousands each season in visiting the great Americanar.d European , - St yle Centers. M* & That's whyourFall ^-^s Style Book is an un- /I erring guide to cor- rect dress. 1029 Bargains Our prices are al ■■■>- lutely unbeatable. That weamnsntoa. Over UOQp Articles pictured in this . Huolcaro surprisim: Bargains! Think of Women's Coats, Wraps and Cloaks at onrr $2.98! Girls' coats, SI.3St lie.iutiful waists, 48c! Wora- cn'sSuits, $l.7f>! New stylo skirts, $1.49! bresses.lwc! Petticoat*. 48e! Huts. 98c t > f-V.'-v In fact, every conceivable garment worn by woman, man and children — all at lowest prices. This Suit,765-H A dresny tailored suit— higl grade, double warp, all wool Serge. Coat slightly fitted. Maiio in modish 82- inch length. A stunning feature is the unique convertible collar which worn bitch up at ehown. Collar of Fide plaits which lino, trivo front a decidedly nu finish; attached belt; m< di ii pockets with flaps and button trimming. Back has two box plaits trimmed with self covered buttons, which extend from waistline to lower edge of coat. Lined throughout with splendid quality Satin, guar antccd for two bcbsi ™ Skirt has full sweep, v, raised waistlino and inn . bolt: Bidet finished with plaits headed with button trimming. Closes at lef* sidu over hip. Colors: black, navy blue or med- ium brown. Six**: 34 to 44 inches bunt mes ■ore: 23 to 30 inche; waist measure: 08 to 44 Inches front skirt length. WRITE! Wo pay nil shipping1 charges and wo guarantee safe, prompt delivery as well as complete sat- isfaction. Send Postal Now for Fall Style Book 265- H and thereby Save Big Money CHICAGO MAIL ORDER CO. %«• Ckicago, HI. When you write to ad«-eriiters please mention PHOTOPLAY MAGAZINE.
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170 Photoplay Magazine — Advertising Section The Butter- Kist Money-Maker $25 to $60 extra profit for you each week if yon install a Butter-Kist Pop Corn Machine. Hundreds of theatre owners are reaping a harvest of nickels. One of these machines install- ed Inst January took in $2.4)65 the first five months. Hundreds of like records prove the Uutter-Kist Popper nets much mure profit per .square foot than any- thing else, for 70c out of every dollar's worth of pop corn you sell is clear, clean profit. Bin, constant demand. All- year, spot-cash business. No stock to carry. Butter- Kist is a trade-builder. It is backed by a big ad- vertising campaign. Pay From Your Sales J»W»*» • this Bntter-Kist - Corn Machine in your theatre with all Butter-Kist privi- leges; pay balance on easy installments. Soon pan for itself nut of the money it earns. fl«*t Thi* Rnnk Fr*»*» Farts, figures, photo- vxei inis dook rree graphs, proofs of profits. etc., shown m our new book. "The Little Gold Mine.'* Sent free, postpaid. K*rry day fraln(!. L. T.. Guthrie Center. La. — You refer to Miriam Cooper of "Birth of a Nation" fame, in "The Artist's Wife." a Majestic-Reliance production. M. M.. Washington, D. C. — William Farnnm played the part of Glenister in Selig's "The Spoil- ers ' : Thomas Santsehi was McNamara ; Kathlyu Williams — deny Malotte: Bessie Eyton — Helen Chester: Frank Clark — Dexlry : Wheeler Oakman — Broncho Kid: Jack McDonald — Slapjack. M. S.. INDIANAPOLIS*. — Uuth Koland was born in San Francisco, Aug. 21; 1893. II. J. M., Edixburg. III. — We trust you are able to visit some of the studios when in California, but admission is difficult to obtain, and it is hard to reach many of the studios, as the trip must be made by auto, in numerous instances. II. S„ Seattle. — Yes. Dustin Farnum is married. M. F.. Minneapolis. — Mildred ITarris' parents are not players. Neither Lillian Gish. Dorothy C.ish. Mae Marsh nor Lovey Marsh is married. E. S.. ROCHELLB, III. — Lila Chester of the Tlian- houser Company is unmarried. M. W., Swain. X. Y. — According to the latest reports Bovd Marshall of Tlianhouser is not mar- ried. J. C. W.. Faikfiei.ii. Xeii. — We can not recom- mend any agency for correction or sale of scenarios. Why pay a middleman to do something you can do to lietter advantage yourself, if you study it out? "Licensed film manufacturers" re- fers to the original group of companies which operated under the film patents and formed the General Film Company. P. C, Booxvili.e. Mo. — "The Diamond from the Sky" was filmed in California around Santa Bar- bara, and in the American studios at that place. A. K„ St. Louis. — Tonv and Angelica. "From Italy's Shores" (Universal), are Boy Stuart and Jane Novak. L. R., Providence. IS. I. — Irenya in "The Un- afraid" (Lasky) is Marjorie Daw. B. DC, Chicago. — The Doctor, in Kalcm's "Preju- dice," is Robert Kills. Yes. many of the players answer letters from friends, though this is not true of all. and you will have to write and do the experimenting yourself. M. McC, St. Pail. — One of Marguerite Clark's latest releases is "Seven Sisters."' the story of which appeared in September Photoplay Maga- zine. There are no studios open to the public. that we know of. and special permission to visit them is exceedingly hard to obtain. Every advertisement in PHOTOPLAY MAGAZINE is guaranteed. G. D. C SrniNGFiEi.o. III. — The paragraph. "How lie met Lucille Lee. pretty little blonde soprano in the choir of the Episcopal church in Sheepshead Bay, married her, and made her baby brunette sister. Anita Stewart, a world-famous star of silent drama, I have told in another story," from "Ince of the Atlantic." in August Photoplay, refers to "Anita, A Star-in-Law," in April Photo- play Magazine.
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Photoplay Magazine — Advertising Section 171 B. P. C, Chattanooga. Tknx. — You will find answers to your Helen Holmes railroad pictures on pace 89 of July Photoplay Magazine. Tom Moore's real name is Thomas Moore ! Mary Miles Minter of Metro is thirteen. Julia Swayne Gordon and Anita Stewart are not related, as much as they resemble each other. V. M.. Cavbiiidge, Mass. — Practically all of the scenes in "The Goddess" are taken at the Vita^raph studio in Brooklyn. The mountain scenes are of North Carolina and ixiiifr Island, hut the strike scenes in the coal district are all studio products. G. L. W., Mitchell. So. Dak. — liarbara 'Pen- nant plays opposite Howard Kstabrook in "The Butterfly" (World). D. A., Des Moines. 1a. — Gretchen is Violet Mc- Millen ; Von Hoffman — Thomas Chatterton ; the Count — Herchal Mayall : and the Countess — Ida Lewis, in "A Modern Noble." J. T. W., Itoss, Calik. — Yes, Anita Stewart lias a younger brother, George, alxnit fifteen years of age. C. G. W, Cleveland. — Knid Markey is with New York Motion Picture Corporation, and Dorothy Davenport with I.asky. You might write to them at those addresses. II. B. McD. — "The Spoilers" was released nearly a year ago. One of Francis X. Bushman's last lOssanay plays was "Providence and Mrs. Urmy." Beverly Bayne played opposite him. C. E. L.. Sydney. N. S. W.— The girl in the "Stool Pigeon" is Yera Sisson. Your other ques- tions have been answered since you wrote us. E. M. R., Toronto. — Sanford Quest, In "The Black Box," is Herbert Itawlinson. A. B., Githiiie. Oki.a. — A cut-bad; is a momen- tary return to a portion of the film which has previously been shown. It is a most effective means for securing a well connected story. P. L. — The leading players In each of the fol- lowing films : "The Man Who Could Not Lose." Carlyle Blackwell : "Beulah." Henry Walthall: "In the Days of Famine." James Morrison and Dorothv Kelly ; "The Melting Pot." Walker Whiteside and Valentine Grant ; "May Blossoms." Gertrude Rob- inson ; "Souls in Pawn," Ben Wilson and Dorothy Phillips : "Quest of the Sacred Gem," ICdna Mayo and Charles Arling: "Money, Money, Money." Ethel Clayton and Joseph Kaufman. Si — "A rare compliment is ter be paid Bee- leyport. Main Street has been selected by a moving picture company as th' background fer a two-reel production of the "Deserted Village." FQl% if a TT I can read and BV MAT » *"rite English. **J *TA^**A*« Wousethesarr.c methods used in big resident colleges. The LaSalle law text is written in plain language by some of America's foremost legal ex- perts such as James DeWitt Andrews, for- mer member faculty Northwestern Univ., and other noted authorities and professors in such universities asllarvard, Leland Stan- ford, Univ. of CbL, Univ. of Mich., Univ. of Wis., Tulane Univ., etc. Recognized as fore- most Home Study Lew Course.^ We are the largest Home Study L..\v School in America and enroll more students than any other. BECOME AN LL.B. ffi1n%at thorizes us to confer the Degree of Bachelor of Laws (LL.B.). Our Course prepares you to pass a'.l subjects covered by bar examinations. We guaran- tee to coach free and until successful any LaSalle graduate failing to pass bar examinations. Special Course for Business Men Many of our students are business men who recognize the necessity of legal knowledge and the superiority of our simplified methods. Write for facts about business men's course. Complete Course In UUL'L1 Public Speaking * I\LL hkj Absolutely free. I*repared by Dr. Frederick B. Robin- "^ son. A.B.. A.M., Ph.D., Professor Public Speaking Col- to bc< I bow, — sh .-t time, , we give, yog U this remarkable | course Free. Start Today ; Mail coupon for proof of wonderful us prove that wo con qualify you no matter who you are. Let us send you facta and tes- timony of suc- cessful students.! Don't let lock ' of money inter- fere. Wit make term* to suit you. Mail coupon now. Send no money, LaSalle Extension ritative. Qualitie MONEY-BACK GUARANTEE BOND So thorough Is the LaSaltc Homo Study Course — so exceptional has been the suc- cess of LaSalle students— that we ismia with each LaSalle Course, a legal, binding guarantee to refund the entire tuition feo- ff after you complete tho Course you aro not perfectly satisfied. This guarantee is backed by our entire capital and re- sources of more than one million dollars, which assures your absolute success. University, «— ^ Chicago. A ~ * DcpL j^ I LaSalle Extension University, Dept.F-767 Chicago. III. Send freo facta about Fpeeial Law Offer, Com- as ploto Coiirao in JPublic Sprakinif ._ "Evidence.'' ■ and Valuable Law Guido. 1 do not obligate myself. F.767 . NAME. STREET AND NO_ Every advertisement In PHOTOPLAY MAGAZINE Is guaranteed.
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172 Photoplay Magazine — Advertising Section ii-4 What are you kicking about? — You men who think you're underpaid The men who get big pay are those who are trained to earn it. Your pay is small because you have no special training — and you only are to blame. You can learn to earn more. No matter what your job, where you live or how old you are, if you can read and write, the International Corre- spondence Schools can train you for a better position and bigger pay. If you want to get out of the ranks of the "hard- ups" and be somebody, prove your ambition by marking and mailing the coupon on this page today. Thousands of others just like you who have used this coupon are now occupying posi- tions of power and high pay. You can join them. Grit your teeth, say "I will" and mail the coupon NOW. 'iNTERNA^ONMCORR^PONSrSCHOOLS' Boxl073 SCRANTON, PA. Explain, without further oblieation on my pari, how I can qualify for the position before which I mark X Salesmanship Civil Service Electrical Engineer Railway Mail Clerk Elcc. Lighting Supt. Bookkeeping Electric Car Running Mrmii.rnpln A 1 v|M- u.-ii 111", Electric Wiremnn Window Trimming Telephone Expert Show Card Writing Architect I.iti.-r'.nr it Slpn iViimid:- Building Contractor Advertising Arehitertiiral l>rnfUs>ii.ti romnu>rriul llhiMralfnc Structural Engineer Industrial DcKigning Concrete Construction Commercial Law Mil I1.11 1 Engineer Automobile Running Mechanical Draftsman Teacher lti'frltri;ii--'s — 1 riii.li Gaa Engines t'hrmUt (irrmiin Name. Present Occupa'.:o-:_ Street and Nc City .1. 7... Clkvici.anh. — The cast in "Through Turbu- lent Waters" (Edison): Alice — Gertrude McCoy; Paul Temple — Frank Fnrrington : • Fane — Bessie Learn; her mother — Helen Strickland; her father — Duncan HcEae ; Mr. Montrose — Robert Brower; Frank Wcntwortb- Edward Earle; the leading woman — Marjorle Ellison. I.. I"., Los Angei.ks. — Inasmuch as you do not (rive the name of any plays, we must ask that you give the name of the producing company, as Pathe releases for many studios and otherwise we have no idea with which one your friend may be. S. M.. Sai'Ilvmkxto. Cm. if. -Boyd Marshall is the Confederate lover, Randolph, playing opposite Lorraine Hilling, in Thanhoiisor's "Fifty Years After Appomattox." '/.. I'... 1>ks Moinks.- Duncan McRac is Captain Flliot in "The Mouse of the Lost Court" (Edison). K. A.. MoxnoE, N. c. Miss Cleo Ridgcly is with L.isky in Hollywood. Calif. M. C. San Francisco. — Mary l'ickford's trip to Japan is rather uncertain at present on account of tile war : in fact, no definite annoiicement of any kind has been made. Anil then M. G. remarks, "My favorite is Mary Pickford. In the roles she portrays she simply makes sunshine out of dark ness. We find so much to admire ill the little actress, with her curls and her pout, but that is not all which attracts us. It is her personality and individuality — her own sweet self." O. .T. R. — We can supply all the issues of this year beginning with April. Read the current ad- vertisements In Photoplay Magazine concerning picture's of your favorites, ■•Carmen" is to lie the first L.isky picture featuring Farrar. A. . Qr/B. — The artist in "The Heart of the Princess Marsari" is Harry Bonham. For the cast of "Fairy Fern S 1." kindly refer to page 163 of September Photoplay. A. X. s.. Los Angeles. — llolfe's '•High Road," has been released for some time: Valli Valli is the star. The player 011 the strip of film you sent us is Vicky Fordo. Syd Chaplin was in the legiti- mate before going into pictures. J S. and L. IL. STROMSHTTBBT, III. — Kirke in Sclig's "His Father's Rifle" is <!nv Oliver. George Larkin was born in N»w York City. Nov. 11. 1SS8. M. 1'. ci.avton. Mo.-- .Elizabeth Burbridge plays the part of Betty Wright in "Shorty's Troubled Sleep- (N. Y. M. I'. C.I. E. C, Dallas. Tex. — Metro"s "Second in Com- mand." their rust Bushman picture, has been re- leased for some time. Francis X. Bushman and Marguerite Snow are opposite for the first time in this play. L. A. C; DOBCHE8TEB, Mass. — In Famous Flay- ers' "When We Were Twenty-one." the lead was taken by William Elliot, and Charles Waldron played Dick t'arewo. the character impersonated by Nat Goodwin in the original stage presentation. In the "Moth and the Flame" | Famous Players) Edward Fletcher is impersonated by Stewart Balrd ; Charles Dawson Edward Mordant ; Douglas Rhodes -Bradley Barker; .lames Walton — Arthur Donald- son: Marlon Walton — Adele Key: Mrs. .lames Wal- ton— Dora M. Adams : Jeanette (Iraham — Irene How-ley. Eicry advertisement in PHOTOPLAY MAGAZINE is guaranteed.
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Photoplay Magazine — Advertising Section 173 STUDIO DIRECTORY Kor the convenience of our readers who may desire the addresses of film companies we j;ive beltfw a number of the principal ones : Amkbicax -Film Mfg. Co.. 0227 Broad- way, Chicago, or Santa Barbara, Calif. Balboa am. I'hod. Co., Lon^r Beach, Calif. ItlooiiAni COMPANY, 80" East 17.">th St., New York, or th St., New Y'ork. Gapmoxt Company, 110 West -JOth St.. Xew York. David IIouski.v Sti did. Main and Wash- ington Sts.. Los Angeles. Calif. Kalkm Company. 2:i."> West 23d St.. Xew York: Jacksonville. Fla. : 142.1 Fleming St.. Hollywood. Calif., or Verdugo lioad. Glen- dale, Calif. Keystone Film Co.. 1712 Allesandro St., Los Angeles, Calif. Geo. Ki.ki.vk. Inc.. 106 North State St.. Chicago. I.-Ko Motiox rn-rriti: Co.. 0100 Sunset Blvd.. Hollywood. Calif. Lasky Featiio: I'i.ay Co.. 120 West 41st St.. Xew York: or 0284 Selma Ave.. Holly- wood, Calif. Li'Bi.x Meg. Co.. 20th and Indiana Ave.. Philadelphia, or 4",00 I'asadena Ave.. Los Angeles. Calif. Majestic-Keliaxce STUDIO, 4."i00 Sunset Blvd.. Hollywood. Calif. Oliver Morosco Featiiik Film Co.. 201 X. Occidental Blvd.. Los Angeles. Calif. Mitiai. Film Cohporatiox, 71 West 23d St., Xew York City. Xatioxal Film Corp.. Santa Monica Blvd. and Gower St.. Hollywood. Calif. Xew Y'ork Motion PICTURE Corp.. Inee- ville. Santa Monica, Calif. PATHS Kxciiaxge. 2.1 West 45th St.. New York City. Quality Pictires Corp., Sunset Blvd. and Gower St., Hollywood. Calif. Selig Polyscope Co.. Garland Bldg.. Chi- cago ; 11)01 Alessandro St.. or 3800 Mission Itoad, Los Angeles. Calif. Triangle Film Cori\. 4.">00 Sunset Blvd., Hollywood, Calif. Thanhocser Film Corp.. Xew Rochclle, X. Y. Universal Film Mfg. Co.. 1600 Broad- way. Xew Y'ork. or Universal City, Calif. Vitagraph Co. of America, E. 15th and Locust Ave.. Brooklyn, X. Y. ; or 2d St., Santa Monica. Calif. Wharton Stidio. Ithaca. N. Y. World Film Corp.. 130 West 46th St., Xew York City. ONLY Days FREE TRIAL! Standard of the World. Endorsed by Govern- ment and Railway Officials- 2*arri3 - Goar'a enlarged easy credit plan enabha you to own one of these superb Elgin hatches now. 17- Jewel Elgin! Now, during this Special Sale, is the time to buy this elegant 17-Jewel Elgin. Thoroughly factory tested, fitted in a beautiful Gold Strata case, factory stamped and guaranteed 25 years, hand en- graved, plain polished or with your own monogram, and our startling offer is to send you this celebrated 1916 Model free of charge for your inspection and approval. No Money Down Because we want to prove to you that the great vol- ume of oar business actually enables us to do bettor by you than any other watch or diamond houso in the world and that on this particular watch, we Bave you nearly half, for it Bells regularly at $20 to $22, while our Special Price is only $*• 075 We tlon't want you to send one cent. Not a JL mk\ ^™ penny. Merely give na yonr full name and address that we may send you this scperb 17-Jcwel Elgin on approval, and if after ycu receive it and want to keep it, then we ask you to pay us the small sum of Only $2 a Month =&»,£» and (Jon 't want to keep it, send it back at our expense. You assume no risk whatever. You do not bey or pay one cent until we have placed the watch right in ycur own hands for your own decision. Wo want no security, no interest, no red tape — just common honesty among men. 1 3 Fine 170 1717 1 1 Books rKLL! HARRIS GOAR KANSAS CITY HO. . Mr. IlARRrswantstosendyou I his three latest BOOKS FRLE I — one the% story of "Tkb 1 DiAMOND.'Mtadiscovery, where I and how mined. cutandmarkct- I ed,thoothcr*4FACTS vs Bcnc" I or all about the watch business, | both at home and abroad; also 1 our Big- Free Illustrated Watch * and Diamond Book. Write today — Do it now I HARRIS-G0ARC0.?epa^,men, J » Kansas City. Mo* The Homo that Sells More* Ellin W»tch©» than Any Other Firm In th* World. When you write to advertisers plcaso mention PHOTOPLAY MAGAZINE^
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174 Photoplay Magazine — Advertising Section There Is Beai In Every Ja However beautiful you may be, you can- not afford to neglect your skin. However plain you may be, you should not miss the possibilities for beauty and sl;in health in the regular use of Ingt&m's Milkweed Cream 50c and $1.00 At Drug Stores Preserves Good Complexions— Improves Bad Complexions Its use overcomes skin disorders mid sallowness, na well ' ■ as undue redness, sunburn nnd freckles. _ _ I Send us 6c in stamps, to cover cost of mailing and packing. I and vet free sample of the above. Also Ingram's Face j Powder and Itoupre in novel purse packets, Zodenta Tooth Tuwder and Perfume. Frederick F. Ingram Company Established ]n*5 Windsor, Canada 102 Tend. St., Detroit. U.S.A. \ Ingram's Vclveota Souveraine Face Powder * is Powdered Perfection for the Complexion. J Four shades: pink, white, flesh nnd brunette. Price, Sue at drug stores or by mail, postpaid. r. - tS&fifc&r 128 pages showingwhy more law-trained men are wanted. Mod- ern conditions demand that you be law-trained. It is necessary for Success. No use douhting it! H'b a fact. Learn why. Our hook also shows you how men who are unable to leave their home or business can become law-trained by a new and improved readln? course prepared by 60 eminent legal authorities and endorsed by U. S. Congressmen, and by Judges and Lawyers everywhere. Written in plain simple lunKuajre, and easy to understand. Practical, yet reads like a story. Ex- ceptionally favorable offer now being made to ambitious men. Write for particulars and free book. No obligation. BLACKSTONE INSTITUTE 20 W. Jackson Blvd., 1 797, Chicago. 111. 100 PAGE BOOK FREE Will gladly send new illustrated book, postpaid. Tells how to quickly, easily learn Indies', children's hairdreesing, (marcel and other modes), shampoo- ing, stopping loss of hair, Besip treatment, removal of superfluous hair by electricity, reducing double chins, women un - ■;-. 1 1. 1 iu:S 15 to S50 weekly. 1 teach all by correspondence. Address: KMZABKTH K1Xf Mm I'lrfcfnrd. [oaf "f Mnrenrrlt.- t'lurk, two of I'hsrlir ChspHn, one ot Itryant HuoIiImii-ii and a splendid new one of Jnrk W. ki'iricim. Dl | • i Free with All Orders JJ1UC LIS.I or sent on Request FILM PORTRAIT CO., 127A 1st Place, 1 Casts of Stories from Films in This Issue THE IMPOSTOR Wollil Sir Anthony, a millionaire Aire n. Francis Illink, Sir Anthony's twin Alee is. Francis Aubrey, Sir Anthony's son Sumner Card Qouger, Blink's pal Leslie Stnwe Mr. Priestly E. M. Kimball Mail/ Priestly Dorothy Fairchlld The Tcarer, later Miss Gibson Jose Collins SOLD Famous Players Helen Pauline Frederick Donald Bryant Thomas Holding Hubert Waintcrtght Julian L'Estrango Johnson Lowell Sherman I, mil Lucille Fttrsman Doloeare Rnsseil Basset t I )A MI PERDU Vitaffrapl I Juan Mon', a riolinlsl Nicholas llunaew Pcrdita, his wile Dorothy Kelly Henri Diieliarine, orchestra director William Dunn THE SECOND SHOT L ll bin A liee OrmI llawley John Anthony Kcmptbn Greene Phil Dunbar Karl Metcalfe Aliee's Father Herbert ForHe'r The Detective Arthur Matliews THE CIRCULAR STAIRCASE SeUg Halsey Innes (lay Oliver Aunt Hay Eugenie Besserer (,'ertruile Innes Stella Razeto Louise Armstrong Edith Johnson ■luek lluiley William Howard l.iilily Anna Dodge Mrs. Watson Jane Watson Old Tom F. J. Tyler Del eel ire .lauiieson Fred Iliintly Arnold Armstrong Clyde Benson Paul Armstrong George Hernandez Dr. Walker BCrt (iraslvy MARRIAGE OF KITTY Lasku K a Uterine silrcrton Fannie Ward John Tracers Richard Morris Lord lielsize jack Dean Helen Dc Semiano Cleo Ridgley .link Churehill Tom Fornutn Annie Mrs Lewis HcCord ry udvcrllscmi'iil la rllOTOIM.AY MAGAZINE is guaranteed.
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Photoplay Magazine — Advertising Section 175 Special Wm. H. Rogers & Son Quality The famous trade mark of Wm. H. Rogers & Son appears on each spoon. This means the finest spoon value obtainable. More than an ornament — they are designed for lasting service. National Film Star Spoons Are All the Rage Every Movie lover finds a delight in possessing them. There is a strong fascina- tion in their use. Send for one today. Perfect Satisfaction or Money Refunded Wc charge only 30 cents each for the spoons, because we know thai you will wanl to acquire the whole set. If you arc not fully satisfied, return the spoons at our expense, and wc will cheerfully refund your money. Fill Out the Coupon NOW! NATIONAL STARS CORPORATION 1328 Broadway, NEW YORK, N. Y. Please send me the Film Star Spoons which I have checked below. ...FRANCIS X. BUSHMAN . ANITA STEWART ..MARY FULLER .ALICE JOYCE The price of each sfioon is 30c postpaid. T enclose. . 1 may return the S|>ooii if not fully snli»tied. Will Prove Your Ambition Do you want a better position? Do you want to earn more? Do you want to get on in the world? Then prove it by marking and mailing the attached coupon. That's easy, isn't it? Then the American School will tell you how you can succeed in the work you choose — and will send you testimonials from am- bitious men, some of them right near you, who have won through the American School's help. Doing this simple thins will cost you nothing, nor place you under any obligation. It will bring you wonderful facts that will be worth while — yes, worth real money to you in the future. Are you truly ambitious, or just fooling yourself? If you really moan to get ahead, prove your ambition by putting an "X" on the coupon and mailing it today. No agent will call on you — the American School does not employ agents or collectors, American School JL \ of Correspondence. Chicago. USA Your Opportunity Coupon Check the course you want and mall the coupon now | American School of Correspondence. Chicago, U. S. A. Without any obligation on my part please send me your Bulletin and advise me how I can quaiify lor the position marked "X." Photo. 10-15 . ...Kleetrieal F,npineer ....Kief. 1,'if-ht Jk Power Snpt. ....Hydrneleetrir Engineer ... .Telephone i;ni:i r ....Arehileet .... Architectural 1> raftsman ....flulldine Ftintraetnr ....Rnildlnfr Superintendent ....Htrttftnrnl Engineer ...-Sirur-nii-.il UraftMtnan ....Herlinnifiil Engineer ....Meehanienl hraftumnn ....Citil Kinrlneer ....Steam Engineer ....Shop Foreman ....Shop Superintendent ....Sheet Metal Druflnmnn We altto prepare for eml - lire exnmlnBtl ....Lawyer miRlRM ft In ill enpineerin^DiibJeet.H ■ Address I When you write to advertisers please mention PHOTOPLAY MAGAZINE.
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176 Photoplay Magazine — Advertising Section Ruth Stonehouse Essanay Star, says "I am delighted with you exercises. They are so easy to do and I feel so refreshed after practicing them. With your system no one need fear old age." You Can Look Years Younger Won'tyouletmetellyou how my wonderful Beauty Exercises remove wrinkles and restore youthful con- tour. Thousands of women have benefited. You can too. Write for my FREE Booklet to- day. If you will tell me what im- provements you would like, I can write you more helpfully. Kathryn Murray, Dept. 2910, 109 N. Wabash Ave., Chicago The first woman to teach Scientific Facial Exercise SSiToM Improve Your Face By Making Faces — for 1 Oc — stamps or coin This book contains a complete course of \ instructions in Physical Culture for the Face. More than 9(1,000 persons are fol- lowing these instructions to-day. They ■/will do more to build beauty than all the paint and powder in the world, for they get right at the root of your facial defects and overcome them. Not simple or silly. Just physical culture np plied 10 the facial. muscles: common sense— Mini's all. If yon want to improve your looks; send 10c fortius hook, to-day, at once, while It's on yottr mind. PROF. ANTHONY BARKER 5201 Barker Bldg., 110 W. 42nd St. NEW YORK CITY TYPEWRITER PRICES SMASHED On nil makes rJnderwoods, KcminKtons, Boyala, L. C. Smiths', Foe. etc 500 MACHINES AT $10 to $15. Send for special wholesale price list. Have the middleman's profit. All Ma* chines studenta for any State Board where required. Board and Room at School— tow. Students' aid depart- ment helps ambitious tm-n and women "work thnmirh." Fall Term Opens October l»t— Extension couruu (home Htudyl may bo started at once, tuition fees applied on resident work. Special courses for M. O.s, Osteopaths and others. To acquaint prospective students with the principles of Chiropractic, introductory reading course will be furnished free upon application. Catalogue upon request. National School of Chiropractic Box 10. 421 S. Ashland B1vd..ChlcaKo FREE Yes, we will send you a gen-NjJjjll trine Lachnite Gem for you to ^S^Uw**; wear for 10 full days absolutely free. This is the most astounding jewelry offer ever made. See a genuire Lachnite for yourself. Wear it for 10 days, Then. If you can tell it fromaRen- uitii' diamond rend it I indent cmr expense. They are cut by the world renowned diamond cutters of Kurope and their dazzling- fire last forever. A superb Rem set in solid gold. Write today for our bio; new catalog. Open An Account Don't save tip your money for months and months before you wear beautiful jewelry. Unman account with oa Jlme nil the renuine LuchuiteH and other handsome jowolry yon wont. Write today forthe big new catalog. Wo trust yon. .No red tape. Your credit is good. Pay As You Wish Just a small amount down. Take your time about payfag tor the rest. Vour choice of any of the superb I.ach» nites ami alt sorts of other superb, elegant Jewelry. All at the rock bottom price. Astound- ing prices never equalled before. Pay as you are able. The most liberal of terms. Get the free book that tells you all about it. Write today— now. Free Book- Write Today Do not delay an instant. Put yonr name and r nddn-^onajn.siiLN.raiittornml ticnd it in to us ,U at once. We'll jii-nd you our bit,' new catalottlM :fk/ , of cl0 -"dyo" Superb Comet j An .-■.■":*:•, tin: o(T< r. This Triple Silver Plated Lyric Cornet will be sent to vou fnr onlyS2.no. PartnabalniM rttbenta of only lueaday. Free trial beioro you decide to buy. £-#222; Fro* Carryln; C*s»— with thia Superb Triple Sliver Tinted Lyric Comet. Kcnuine leather. Write today. ^easy payments. Generous allowance tor old instruments. We supply the U. S. Gov't. Writo today for Free Hand Catalog. THE RUDOLPH WURLfTZER CO. Cincinnati. Ohio P«pt. 146T Chicago. Illlwolm SPECIAL OFFER Beautiful hand-colored, larjje 11x14 Photo oj your Favorite Acior or Actress. These hand- some hand-colored Photos are an exceptionally fine work of art suitable for framing. Ask your nearest theatre, or send 25c in stamps or coin to WYANOAK PUBLISHING CO. 146 Wot 52nd Street, New York City Every udrcrllsunviit in PHOTOPLAY MAGAZINB is euaiantccd.
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Photoplay Magazine — Advertising Section 177 V N'AMF. ^.. .-::-:; .:..:.^ ::^;. \ ADDB£RB. • i ' |H | \ FRANKLIN INSTITUTE \ Dipt. B 201, Rochester, N. Y. ,v, x/ / vv ?■///// • This coupon, filled out as dircctcd.cn- •ti |^? ?W » WA W/. W». W/ fflffflk mm// \ tiUes the sunder to free specimen. — ■ esew "■"* ^ questions ; a free copy of our book, # Government Positions and How to $65 TO $150 A MONTH % ^kW^3SJ *S| the examination here checked. Railway Mail Clerks— City Mail Carriers— Postoffice Clerks \ ^SSS.^Z:&Si — Rural Carriers — Panama Canal Clerks — Steady Work— \ -.^KlSfc:fflS™ Vacations with Full Pay — Rapid Promotion—" Pull" Unnec- \ ;S ^S^.^.V^. essary — Common Sense Education Sufficient — Many Positions for Women \ "^^^^nm'imn .... , . .. . . . . e -^ j r • ".'.'stenosraohtr 1S8OO toSISOO) Write today— before you forget— tor list and description of positions now open to you; and free « ..imtrraiReTHiue. sample examination questions. It will cost a 2c stamp — it may bring you thousands of dollars. \ (S700tol800) _._ • . . Clerk al Panama Canal FRANKLIN INSTITUTE. Department B201, ROCHESTER. N. Y. *» (SI200 loSiBOO) ^ ^ ^ bbb„^v^»»>>SBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBpj>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>bbbbbbb& .. Canadian Goi'l Positions. .. ELECTRICAL ECONOMIZER ""*' It costs less than one-half as much to operate the motion picture arc light when you replace the rheostat with the Lemon Arc Regulator and the light is more steady and white. It is for alternating current only. VDNDEX ELECTRIC MFG. CO, AURORA, ILL, U. S. A. HOTEL MAJESTIC CENTRAL PARK WEST AT 72ND STREET NEW YORK THE HOUSE OF GOOD WILL Now that I am at The Ma- jestic, I can please you more completely in the matter of hotel accommodations than you have ever been pleased before. In addition to the natural advantages of the Majestic, such as its location at a main entrance to Central Park and its accessibility to all lines of traffic, there have been added all the latest forms of com- fort and amusement, that make it superlatively attrac- tive. You naturally want to be in the center of things and you are — at the Majestic. This does not mean that you will be in the heart of the all- night district The summer visitor finds here a haven of rest and interest The Ma- jestic is always a veritable paradise for the motorist and the equestrian. The foyer, corridors, res- taurants and ballrooms are of great beauty. The Cafe Moderne, lately opened. Is the last word in smart dancing places. Talented artists ap- pear every evening. The garden-on-the-roof is a balcony overlooking fairy- land. You may be assigned one room or as large a suite as you require. The minimum rate is S2.00 a day. Restaurant prices are reasonable and Club breakfasts are served. Guests arriving at the Pennsyl- vania Station can take surface car on Eighth Avenue side, which passes the door of the Majestic Write me for booklet now. COPELAND TOWNSEND Manaeinff Director Lately Manager Hotel imperial, N. Y. When you write to advertisers please mention PH0TOIM,AY MAGAZINE.
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178 Photoplay Magazine — Advertising Section ASTHE HUB 15 TO THE WHEEL SO IS POWERS CAM ER AGRAPH N96A TO MOTION PICTURE PROJECTION NICHOLAS POWER COMPANY NINETY GOLD STREET. NEWYORKCITY WRITE FOR CATALOGUE "P" Even- advertisement lu PHOTOPLAY MAGAZINE is iruaranteed.
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IF@3f> Easily Removes Fruit - Cof f e e Ainegar- and OtKer Stains From SucK Things As Oil-ClotK Tatle-Tops F. HAUL MINTING COMPANY. CHICAGO
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Fuller William: O'Neil Film Star; Find New BeautuocciS <~ These leading stars have told the secret of their beautiful complexions. Their complexions are their most valuable asset and the care of their skin is their greatest problem; for the reason that the slightest blemish or mar shows unpleasantly on the film. Peggy O'Neil ' I use SEMPr\E GIOVINE and most sincerely recommend its use. It keeps my skin soft and smooth and my complexion clear." Alary fuller "YourSEMPrXECIOVlNEhasstood for every test that I could put it to. It lives up to its claims." Kathlyn William* "I have used SEMPRE GIOVINE very thoroughly and now use it in prefer- ence to any other. I am very glad to rec- ommend 'The Pink Complexion Cake." Marguerite Snow "I find SEMPRE GIOVINE a neces- sary adjunct to my toilet table. After & day out in all kinds of weather it leaves the skin in a velvety condition." Ruth Stonehoute "In all my experience I have found nothing to equal SEMPRE GIOVINE. I use it regularly now and find that it keeps my skin and complexion soft and clear under all conditions." §empre Qovine ( ProTiounced Sem-pray Jo-ve-nay) Meaning l%Alivays Young" improves the complexion by thoroughly cleansing the skin. Its daily application keeps the skin smooth, soft and velvety. Ideal for the protection and relief of the skin when motoring, Stonehouse "The Pink Complexion Cake". is universally favored for its convene ient application — unique, different. Simply apply the cake direct to the face and in a few moments wipe off with a soft cloth or towel. Your skin will be thoroughly cleansed and your complexion clear. Send for Sample Cake e V_^aKe Mail It Today. Or get full'sized cake of Sempre Giovine at any drug or department store. Phone or ask for Sem-pray Jo-ve-nay "The Pink Complexion Cake" Marietta Stanley Co Dept. 1467 Grand Rapids Mich. Miniature Cake Coupon Marietta Stanley Co., Dept. 1467, Grand Rapids, Mich. Please send me miniature cake of Sempre Giovine. " The Pink Complexion Cake." I am enclosing four cents to cover postage and packing. Name ^' \ Wress T and State . |l Sfeijli(ta,ke