Moving Picture Exhibitors' Association.

Photoplay (Volume 36 – 37 (Jul. - Dec. 1929)) online

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there are reasons why certain of your guests must not
be seated next to or across from each other. Hollywood,
like Kentucky, has its feuds. Some people must be seated
near each other for, strange as it may seem, there are
friendships in Hollywood.

Glance at the list. You see Corinne Griffith has
accepted. So has Norma Shearer. Both are social leaders.
Which will have the place of honor? (Ah-ha, you thought
it was easy, didn't you? NOW will you behave?)

Well, what are you going to do about it? You should
be able to figure it out all by j'ourself , but if you get stuck
the answer is rigjit here.

We'll do even more for you. We're not going to be as
mean as Emily Post. SHE would give you such a problem
and then go away to play tiddle-de-winks with the bishop
and forget all about you. But we're not Emily Post.



Lupe
Velez



Billy
Haines



Hollywood Hostess



(Apologies — and all that

sort of thing — to

Emily Post)



By

Katherine
Albert



The
Hostess




June


Grant


Loretta


Doug Fair-


Joan


Eric von


Collyer


Withers


Young


banks, Jr.


Crawford


Stroheim



Oh, my, no! You could tell b\
looking at us. We're just an in-
fallible Hollywood hostess and
we know how these people must
be seated, but to help you out
we're going to give you inside
information on your guests. You may come to Hollywood
some day. You, too, might be a hostess.

Corinne Griffith — the orchid of the screen. Doesn't like
wild parties nor potato races. Is a social leader herself and
married to

Walter Morosco — her manager. Talks on any subject, but
is most fluent about his wife.

NORMA SHEARER— the patrician of the screen. Is also a
perfect lady and may be held up as an e.xample to young
girls. Married to

Irving Thalberg — the young genius of filmdom. Drives
his workers at the studio, but is pleasing and courteous in
a drawing room. You can rest assured he won't eat with
his knife.

Joan Crawford — the hey-hey gal has turned to cooking
and sewing and selecting the proper candles for the silver
candle-sticks since her marriage to

Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. — Douglas Fairbanks, the actor,
is his father.

Billy Haines — well, of course, Billy is a difficult guest.
He might trip the butler when he comes in to give you a
discreet message that causes you to jump up in the middle
of the soup course and run out on everybody.

Billy tells stories. Some of them you wouldn't tell your
grandmother. Or maybe you have that kind of grand-
mother. I don't know. Suffice it to say that Billy is
very gay.

GARY COOPER — one of those strong, silent men, born
on a Montana ranch. Unless you're disconcerted by a
far-away gaze in his eye, he's a good listener. He looks as if
he had a secret sorrow, but maybe it's just a birthmark.
Buddy Rogers — his engagement has been announced
to a lot of different girls. That makes him interesting,
doesn't it, unless, of course, he starts telling you that he
lives his screen roles.



A perfect Hollywood dinner table. Your problem,
and Miss Albert's, was to seat happily and comfort-
ably these twenty-four famous Hollywoodians at a
festive board. This is her solution. The story below
tells just why who was seated next to whom



Ramon Novarro — the proper
unattached young man to have
at any party. Is interested in
music, art, good books and is the
most polite man in town.

Grant Withers — what hostess
doesn't like to have a hero at the festal board? The story
goes that Grant did some plain and fancy rescuing during the
Pueblo flood.

Ronald Colman — the mystery man of Hollywood. Seldom
attends parties. Won't discuss his love-life. Runs from in-
quiring females.

Eric von Stroheim — stormy and temperamental on the set,
but very well behaved at a banquet. He, too, knows a cock-
tail fork from any other kind of fork.
Ben Lyon — his loves are, of [ please turn to page 127 ]




Two perfect answers to every hostess' prayer,
Messrs. Nils Asther and Ramon Novarro. These
nice boys are one hundred per cent fine diners-
out. Both members of this club, everybody likes
them, and they get on well wherever you put
them. They charm the old ladies, fascinate the
girls and talk he-language to the men. So always
invite Nils and Ramon



ornerin




4



Six Famous Pairs Who

Sing (Tra la!) and Dance

(Hey! Hey!) in a New

Revue






IN "The Show of Shows," Warner Brothers' Mammoth
Aggregation of Cinematic Marvels and Motion Picture

Alastodons. the famous sister acts of the screen warble
their prettiest and point their toes — one! two!

Here are pictures of six of the fifteen or thirty star-
spangled sister teams who will make the fans forget the old
crack about good things coming singly. Each pair will
wear the native costume of a different nation, and taken
all together they will spell "Hollywood" in a great, big
internationai way.



Glorifying Old Glory's little girls. Dolores and
Helene Costello, who glorified the photoplay
'way back when screen silence was considered
golden, add their scintillating bit to this
singie-dancie-talkie



ts



■^'■tSii



h.



m



»•/**-•



%'i(



y^







w^



"The top of the mornin' to you, sister."
Molly O'Day and Sally O'Neil, a couple of cap-
tivatin' colleens who do a sisterly turn in this
big revue. They jig, they sing, and they smile
with those Irish eyes



Two cute Dutch dolls — sisters Shirley Mason
and Viola Dana. We can't be certain, but they
probably sing a song of windmills, tulip time
in Holland, and the course of true love in the
land of the Zuyder Zee



34



the Si



ister



Market



Over this colossal collection of native and foreign
beauty Mr. Richard Barthelmess, accompanied by his
best boyish blush, will preside as screen master of
ceremonies.

This is undoubtedly one of the ace numbers of the revue,
which contains everybody from John "Profile" Barry-
more to the littlest and most freckled bat boy on the lot.
Now if they could guarantee us Lillian and Dorothy Gish
doing a hot black bottom, the world would be a better
place to live and love in!




The prettiest girl in Hollywood (some say) and
her pretty sister. Loretta Young (right) and
Sister Sally Blane, as the French sisters.
Loretta and Grant Withers are reported on the
verge of marriage. What verge!



Just two little Bohemian girls, trying to get
along. You know the Days, Alice (left) and
Marceline. As representatives of the land of
Pilsner beer and beautiful skies, they'll do
their bit in the big show



And now for Rule Britannia! As representa-
tives of the Mother Country we have Adamae
and Alberta Vaughn, reading from left to
right. You know Alberta. And Sister Adamae
is an up and coming young player!



They started the

story of
Sue Carol's im-
aginary millions




r ur v><oat



By
Eugene Earle




Bi



Sue Carol had to live up to a million she didn't have. Here

she is, dolled up for film purposes. Don't believe it — she's

only modestly in the big money



Y rights the title of this story
should be "The Poor Little Rich
)Girl," but Eleanor Gates or some-
one else always thinks up the good
titles before a fellow can get around to
them.

The heroine of the %,tory is Sue Carol,
who has been hounded from childhood
by riches she did not possess. There are
people in Hollywood today who believe
that Sue's personal fortune would make
Hetty Green's roll look like a baby's
bank.

Sue, almost from her first days in
pictures, has been pointed out as the
great Chicago heiress, who made her
debut at the Blackstone Hotel. Well,
Sue is a Chicago heiress. But an heiress
can be an heiress without having a sur-
plus of two or three odd millions hidden
in the sock. Her fortune is best described
as "comfortable."

Hollywood expected Sue to live up to
those imaginary millions. There were
countless demands for her money. Con-
tracts were offered to her at a smaller
figure than a less moneyed girl would get.

She determined to live on her own
earnings, but she was always subscribing
to this fund and that. And like anyone
else living beyond their income, she w-ent
into debt. Her salary check, at first,
was not large. Only in the last year has
she cleared off the indebtedness.

IT has always been that way — the
nightmare of millions that e.xisted only
in the imagination of her friends and
acquaintances.

"When I was little, if I had a dollar
to spend, my playmates always thought
I had ten. That was bad enough, but
it was so much worse when I grew older.
If I liked a boy, and he liked me, people
said nasty things — that he was only after
my money. It wouldn't have been so
bad if I hadn't heard the whispers. Boys
that I wanted to be friendly with kept
away because of the money I was sup-
posed to have. I've cried myself to sleep
more than once on this account.

" My grandfather had a great deal of
money. That much is true. I received
the major bequest in his will, but people
did not realize that much of his fortune
had gone to other peojsle and to numerous
charitable institutions. It was said that
I was a very wealthy girl on account of
that will. All of the money is in a trust
fund. I can't touch a cent of it. Perhaps
I never shall. If I ever have children,
it will go to them.

"I came to Los Angeles to visit friends.
I remained with a girl I knew when
mother's trip was cut short. She had an
apartment in a small, unpretentious
building in a not too fashionable district.
When I visited Janet Gaynor at the
studio she did not mention the money.
I thought that here my troubles were
over. That [ please turn to page 136 ]



3Q




he's U



K



AY JOHNSON is the first person
I've met who didn't insist on tell-
ing me about her operation.
She's just had a perfectly elegant



During the making of "Dynamite,"
Director De Mille, the C. B. one, arrived
on the set early one morning. Every-
thing was in readiness for a full day's
work. The telephone rang and John
Cromwell's voice came over the wire.
John, be it known, is Mr. Kay Johnson.

"I have some bad news. Kay was
taken suddenly with acute appendicitis.
She was operated on last night and it will
be three weeks before she can return to
the studio."

"Well, that's that," said C. B. as he
hung up the receiver. "Tell everyone
that there will be a three weeks' vacation.
Does anyone know where the fishing is
good this time of year?"

When Kay returned in three weeks
everyone was prepared to coddle her.
Comfortable chairs were provided, and
they wanted to shoot scenes where she
was sitting down. But not for Kay. She
wasn't going to be an invalid. She
plunged right back in the picture, and
worked fourteen hours a day to make up
for lost time. She forgot all about that
incision of hers.

During her teens Kay had looked for-
ward with keen anticipation to an opera-
tion. It seemed the final touch which
distinguished a woman of the world from
an ordinary, prosaic person. And then
there was that day of days, or maybe it
was night of nights, when her tonsils
came out. She could scarcely wait to go
to a bridge party.

WHEN she did, and proceeded to go
into her operation, every one listened
with bored politeness. The hostess finally
informed her tactfully that her three-year-
old daughter had also just had her tonsils,
as well as her adenoids, deposited in a
bottle of alcohol.

Kay was terribly hurt about it all, but
she had learned her lesson. No one will
be forced to listen about the time she had
her appendix out. The incarceration in the
hospital was not unpleasant, however.
There was a peach of a nurse, for instance,
who sneaked in cookies to her.

A godsend it was, too. Kay discov-
ered that hospital food has the amazing
faculty of tasting exactly alike, whether
it be fried onions or pate dejois gras. Sup-
posing, of course, that you get such things
in a hospital.

It's quite a studio joke — Kay's appetite.

When she was making "Dynamite"
she would begin asking about the lunch
call at 11 o'clock. When it was finally
called, De Mille would say —

"Everybody can go to lunch now, ex-
cepting Miss Johnson. I want her to stay
and pose for some stills."

[ PLEASE TURN TO PAGE 136 ]



ynamite

By
Stanley Burton



Is Kay Johnson^

and she drives to

her openings in a

taxicab




Kay, the "Dynamite" girl, was one of the New York theater's

smartest leading women. Now, on the strength of this first

hit in pictures, she is set in films



57



You may skip helter-
skelter from page to
page In PHOTOPLAY.
But pause here, gentle
reader, and read this
great story



yickles



'Z



By Jerome



THERE were few men in this world
who had the regal manner that was
Henry K. Nottingham's. It is not
often that you find a bachelor of
forty-three who is so sure of his footing upon
the pinnacle of success.

Now and then extensive search will reveal
a husband who fortunately is possessed of an
admirable wife who appreciates and under-
stands him, and whose constant genuflections
inspire him to appraise his genius at its true
worth. But bachelors are an inferior race
and usually act that way.

If Henry K. Nottingham strolled down
Fifth Avenue on a Sunday morning — or, for
that matter, down Wall Street on a Friday
afternoon — and someone behind him shouted
"Hey, you!" Mr. Nottingham would not
pause in his stride, nor turn his head.

Would you yell, "Hey, you!" at Napoleon?
Or at Mussolini? Or at John D. Rockefeller?
Henry K. Nottingham was tall and broad,
without a grey hair. His extensive but con-
servative wardrobe included five silk hats.
Few persons but Mr. Nottingham could dis-
tinguish between the one that was the thing
for the opera and the one that was to be worn
only at formal weddings.

He played bad golf, and admitted it, but
in spite of the fact that he kept the caddies
chasing through the rough, tliey liked to
carry for him. 'He never lost his temper; he
never blamed them for his bad shots. His
bridge was as ragged as his golf, but men
sought him as a fourth. He was a good loser
and, whenever the opportunity offered, a
good winner — eager to learn, thankful for
criticism, kind, companionable.

BUT his business was his Hfe and in busi-
ness he was a different Henry K. Notting-
ham — shrewd, piercing, firm, believing in
the infallibility of his judgment and his
balance sheets and his figures. Perhaps it
was not entirely his fault, this sublime con-
fidence in his own ability. There was a
woman, closer to him than any other living
person, constantly beside him, ever advising, forever singing
hosannas to his prowess — Miss M. L. Oleson, his secretary,
better known as M. L.

Business men are moulded by their secretaries, and M. L.
was much to blame for the fact that Henry K. Nottingham, in
business, thought he was quite a fellow.

Life outside of business was one thing. To be successful
in social pursuits you had only to be yourself, Mr. Nottingham
knew. But, as M. L. so often pointed out, sentiment must
never be allowed to break through into business. Business was
something else, calling for a certain state of mind that had to
be cultivated — a game played under a definite set of rules that
would bring success.

M. L. was pretty, in a way, as an express locomotive is
pretty: efiicient, powerful, capable. The only feminine thing
about her was her dark brown hair, waved and unbobbed.




IMr. Nottingham, President of IVIarvel Pictures

Corporation, was feeling much as the Chief Justice

of the Supreme Court in all his robes might feel,

if hit in the eye with a spit ball

That hair bothered Mr. Nottingham. In the many years
that she had been his secretary, through his struggles as presi-
dent of the Mid-Continent Cement Mixer Corporation,
through his triumphs as chairman of the board of the United
& Amalgamated Pickle Company, through the period in which
she changed from Mary Oleson to M. L., he tried to think of
her as being of neuter gender. But as long as she had that
hair she was distinctly feminine.

He had suggested, diplomatically, once or twice, that she
should have her hair cut like a man's, but she just laughed.
Those laughs made him uneasy. As the lion instinctively




Pictures



Beatty



•f^=:%^>




It took a snappy scena-
rio writer to teach Mr.
Nottingham that Hol-
lywood Boulevard and
Wall Street are differ-
ent alleys



result from the order, and the courage to
gamble that even after weeks of agony he
could find and train a paragon who would
possess all of M. L.'s virtues and none of
her vices.



E



[k?2?



I



On the other side of the rope a short, fat man in a

soiled golf suit was actually shouting at him —

at Mr. Nottingham himself! "Get offa that set,

ya fat head. Can't ya see that sign?"

knows when hunters are approaching, so did Henry K. Notting-
ham know that M. L. had decided to marry him. He had no
idea of marrying M. L. nor anyone else. The thought fright-
ened him.

She dominated him, he realized, but she was invaluable.
Her judgment in pickles and cement mixers had been sound.
Much of his success was due to her keen advice. But whenever
he made a calm analysis of the situation— which lately had
been often — he always came to the same conclusion. He was
being hunted. He must get rid of her.

But he lacked the courage to face the scene that would



T was the only time in his business life
that he postponed a decision. After all,
it was not of great importance — that was
his excuse.

Henry K. Nottingham had made a success
of pickies and cement mixers. And so the
bankers, who found themselves with Marvel
Pictures Corporation on their hands, believ-
ing that a factory is a factory and overhead
is overhead — pickles, cement mixers or
movies — took him from a dignified office in
WaU Street and moved him and M.L. into
a tall building covered with electric signs
on the edge of Times Square and told him
that he was president of the corporation.

They intimated that they would give nim
one year to make some good pictures ana
to get the business out of the red.

Mr. Nottingham had one flash of doubt
as R. W. Nelson, the noted banker, made
the offer. Mr. Nottingham did not know
much about the movies. He did not like
them.

But Nelson slapped him on the shoulder
and declared, " You can do it, Nottingham ' "
It was the first time the great banker had
seemed so friendly. Mr. Nottingham felt
as if he had been knighted.
" Of course I can, " he said.
Mr. Nottingham told M. L. about it.
"It is the easiest task you ever had,"
she predicted. "When this is done, do you
realize what is next? A partnership witn
Mr. Nelson."

Mr. Nottingham pinched his chin, nerv-
ously.

" i3ut one failure — you know Mr. Nelson's
rule — one failure and a man is through
forever. "

"Failure?" M. L. scoffed. "Ha!"
Mr. Nottingham was himself again.
"Of course, of course," he said.

Mr. Nottingham had been president for three days and had
come to several definite conclusions. One was that the over-
head was too high and that salaries were outrageous. For
instance, as iM. L. had pointed out, there was Agnes Callahan,
scenario editor, at S500 a week. It was absurd to pay any
woman that amount!

MR. NOTTINGHAM'S rule was to proceed with caution. He
would discharge no one until he was sure of his ground, and
not then until he could put his hands on capable replacements.
In the meantime, he was feeling his way along, learning the
business through conferences with department heads.
M. L. entered.
" Miss Callahan is here, " she said without enthusiasm.

[ PLEASE TURN TO PAGE 129 J

S9



^. »^ .^^^




IRENE BORDONI



IRENE BORDONI is the hot sauce of the movie menu. She
is small and "Fr-ranch," volatile and vivacious. Her

naughty eyes have delighted audiences from Bangor to the
Golden Gate. She has just made a talking picture version of
her recent stage success, "Paris," for First National. This
Avinter she will return to the stage, and, according to present
plans, be back in the spring for further pictures.

The Bordoni's arrival in Hollywood was nothing if not im-
pressive. She came quietly into town, accompanied only by a
secretary, a chauffeur, a chef and two maids. Bordoni was
going to be comfortable. In addition to her menage in Beverly
Hills, she maintains a home just off Park Avenue in New York,
another in Paris, and a villa on the French Riviera.

This interesting singing comedienne was born on the Island
of Corsica, in Ajaccio. She is not the only Corsican to sail
from her native shores and conquer the world. Napoleon first
saw the light of day on that island. Her great grandmother
was the sister of Millet, the famous artist.

AFTER stardom in the music haOs of the Continent, La
Bordoni scored instant success in America in "Miss In-
formation," a revue starring Elsie Janis. Her name soon
appeared in electric lights on Broadway. Her particular forte
has been versions of spicy French farces, in which she sings
both in French and English.

In this day when many foreign stars have been compelled to
leave the screen on account of accents, the greatest charm of
the Bordoni is in her quaint handling of English. She has no
desire to lose it. Bordoni without an accent would be apple-
sauce without apples.

She is one of the most distinctively unusual women to enter
pictures. Her presence at a premiere is noted with interest.
She dresses with individuality and sometimes with startling
effect. Yet, she is not an extremist.

The oo-la-la Bordoni's domestic affairs have been in one of
those trying states of flu.x for the past year or so.

She was for a good many years the wife of E. Ray Goetz,
theatrical producer and promoter. Then harsh words began to
be spoken, which rose to near-screams when Goetz produced a
play starring that hardy perennial, Peggy Hopkins Joyce. At
last reports an armed truce prevailed.

Bordoni has been, throughout her American career, a good
every-season bet at the box-office. She has capably furnished
our Gallic spice in the place of the lamented Anna Held,
bowling over sophomores of seventeen and seventy, year
after year.

So be prepared for something glittering and alluring when
you go to "Paris."

Irene will get you, even if you watch out.



^wo Aces

By Cal York




WILLIAM BAKEWELL reached the ripe old age of
twenty-one last May, the age of indiscretion.

Most young men of twenty-one are blase and
"tired of it all," even if the pose is a bit hollow. Billy takes
it big. The world is a grand place. AH the stars in Hollywood are
"nice," and he can't even think of a malicious exception or
two. He has been successful in talking pictures, and before
that he was successful in silent pictures. There is nothing to
worry about as long as his pal, Arthur Lake, doesn't have more
dates with Mary Brian than he himself has.

This >oung man w ith the green eyes was born in Hollywood.
Until he made location trips to West Point and Annapolis he
had seen ver>' little of the world which exists beyond the Holly-
wood mountains. The weekends in New York and Washington
were events. He met Ex-President Coolidge.

BILLY is one of the most popular of the screen juveniles.
He played the dual role of the two princes in "The Iron
Mask," and spoke out like a trouper in "On with the Show."
He has a voice with a personality, or sex appeal, or whatever
a screen voice is supposed to have. He was Alice White's
"sheikie" in "Hot Stuff," and they were such a good team that
Billy win make love to Alice again in a new picture at First
National. He is also to be featured in five pictures at Warners.
The first was "The Gold Diggers."

The next time you meet Billy at a party ask him to do his
imitation of John Barrymore, or the one on Harry Langdon.
They're both ver>' funny. The imitations, of course.

Young Master Billy is one of the leading members of Holly-
wood's younger set, which includes Arthur Lake, Alice White
and other pert )-oungsters full of ginger and pep.

Anywhere else they'd be howling around the streets in
stripped Fords. But being what they are, their dashing is done
in fancier cars.

Bakewell seems set for bigger and finer things. His work
with Fairbanks in "The Iron Mask" indicates that young
master will go far fast.



and a Pair

of Queens




ROBERT ARMSTRONG



ROBERT ARMSTRONG is an actor (and a pretty durn
good one, according to rumor and box-office) but he
doesn't begin every sentence with "I." Nor does he
believe that the little woman's place is in the home. He thinks
his art is perfectly elegant on Saturday night when he opens



Online LibraryMoving Picture Exhibitors' AssociationPhotoplay (Volume 36 – 37 (Jul. - Dec. 1929)) → online text (page 124 of 145)