Moving Picture Exhibitors' Association.

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

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Hyams. Her hair is growing
out both at the back and the
sides. She pins it in tightly over
the ears, keeps it marcelled and
wears a false braid, coronet fash-
ion, which is pinned in at the back
keeping the back hair in place.
The braid is then pinned over the
top of the head.
False hair is also used effectively
by Anita Page. She keeps thost
back ends down by pinning tightly
across them a set of little curls.

Mary Astor has just bobbed her
hair, but she intends to wear it both
ways. Incidentally, her method is a
good one while the hair is growing out.
A small chignon was made of the
hair that was cut off and this is
pinned tightly across the back
while the sides are allowed to fluff
out softly around the face.

You'd never believe, to look at
Nancy CarroU, that her hair is really
nape-of-the-neck length. It looks as
if she has a smart bob and this is

done by separating the back hair
into eight parts and coiling each part separately. Then it is
But take courage. Take a lot of courage. There are ways pinned securely to the nape of the neck, the shorter top hair is
for everyone, with every type of hair, to overcome this. combed over it and the effect is that of a neatly cropped head.


ing hair that is neither bobbed nor long

^ Z/hat

Awkward Length

By Katherine Albert

Laura La Plan te let
her hair grow for
her role of Mag-
nolia in "Show
Boat." But when
the picture was fin-
ished she hied her-
self to the barber
and had it cut
again in her favor-
ite almost-boyish

Olive Borden be-
longs to the "yes
and no" group —
those who have
bobbed, grown
out and bobbed
again. Olive has
recently suc-
cumbed to the very
short clip — off the
ears, softly waved
around the fore-

There is another method that some
of the girls use. When Joan Craw-
ford started to let her hair grow, she
accomphshed it neatly by allowing
the sides to grow, but keeping the
backclipped to avoid anunkempt look.

When the sides were long enough
she brought them together -at the
back to hide the short hair and then
started to let the back hair grow.
Joan had to have her hair cut again
for a screen role, and at this writing
she is wearing it very short.

Billy Dove's hair is now long
enough to do up easily. It is shoul-
der length and can be brought into a
coil at the back of the head. Loretta
Young may do the same thing, al-
though occasionally, with sports
clothes, she wears the very long bob.

AND Doris Dawson can do up her
hair at the back. But you will
notice that most of the girls with
long hair keep it short at the sides
and around the face. The softness is
flattering and makes hats more be-

And, speaking of hats, that seems
to be the main trouble with long hair.
Then take a tip from Ann Penning-
ton, whose hair is unusually long and

And Leila Hyams is "growing
out." Her waved hair is drawn
over her ears, a false braid
pinned firmly at the neck and
looped about the back of her
head, coronet fashion

thick. She brings it around the back •
straight and makes her knot over the
left ear. In this way the hair does
not come up under the hat and take
up e.xtra room.

LONG bobs are very good in
Hollywood, but these eventually
grow into long hair. Clara Bow de-
clares that she will always have her
shoulder length bob, as does Myrna
Kennedy. Well — maybe!

In the matter of hair, fashion is
not arbitrary. Olive Borden is one
of those who have just recently in-
dulged in a boyish bob. Remember
when it was down to her shoulders?
The hair is parted on the. left side,
waved back from the forehead and
drawn softly off the ears.

Laura La Plante let her hair grow
for "Show Boat" and then cut it off
again in an almost boyish bob. As
long as Lois Moran's clip is so versa-
tile she won't change. For evening
she wears it curled tight all over her
head. With sports clothes she wears
it straight, parted on the left .side,
and when she wants to be a trifle
more formal she uses a slight wave
and a few curls about the face.


2 43

Here is the first short story of the

ed by


"You — you're not supposed to come in here," stammered Emerson Slipe, the tone expert.
"Why, Emerson!" pouted Rosie. "Not stay close to my tiger man when I'm not busy?" The purple
eyes filled with tears. "You wouldn't say no, honey?"



ezv talkie studios — and it's a wow






And triumphs over

Hollywood's newest

menace, the expert In

tonal vibrations

Stewart Robertson

ELEVEN people sat around a table
in a private dining room at the Stupe-
faction Studios, and ten of them,
entirely unaided by the verbal lashing
of a director, registered acute resentment.

For half an hour they had been insulted
and badgered by the guest of honor, and now they wriggled
uneasily as though preparing for revenge as one collective
worm. W. Grosvenor Hoople, the character heavy, cocked
a meaningful eye at Carlos Cabrillo, the star, who nodded
slightly, whereupon jNIr. Hoople rose majestically to his feet
and scowlingly interrupted the speaker.

"It seems to me, young man," he boomed, "that we have
heard about enough. May I remind you that you are address-
ing established members of the third industry in these
United States? Some of us are nationally known and we object
most strenuously to being lectured by a — a mechanic."

Mr. Emerson Slipe poured himself another snifter of pine-
apple gin, drank it with relish and stared insolently at a point
some three inches above Mr. Hoople's baronial head. He was
an irritatingly complacent youth with a turned-up nose and a
shock of incredibly yellow hair that had been roached and
swirled into the effect usually associated with a prize cocker

Manifestly, Mr. Slipe was on the best of terms with himself,
and a tolerant pout depressed the corners of his mouth as he
continued to ignore, with one exception, the presence of the

Rosie Redpath was
one of the chief stars
of Stupefaction Pic-
tures. The publicity
department billed her
as "passion's child."
Read what her devas-
tating purple eyes did
to Emerson Slipe,
master of the moni-
tor room and super-
expert of the new
tonsil drama

screen players. At length, sensing that a

questioning silence had descended upon

the room, he replied in a voice freighted

with the wisdom of twenty-three years and a Perth Amboy


"So you think you're established, do you?" he drawled.
"Horse cars used to be popular, my fat friend, so were celluloid
collars, but where are they now?" His blase gaze interrogated
Mr. Hoople, who was holding a spurious pose of nonchalance.
"Understand me, I care nothing about your so-called acting;
I'm interested only in your voices, and I've warned you that
whatever other abilities you may possess will be a washout
unless you have tonal value. You may call me a pessimist,
but how about \'0ur employer? Isn't he importing a famous
woman from the stage to co-star with this Spanish person on
my right?"

AS though waiting for a cue, Carlos Cabrillo jumped up
and glowered at the reckless one. "Listen, Percy," he rasped,
"don't let my sideburns get the best of you. I may be the
public's Cordovan Kid, but off the set I'm a nasty Nordic
called Simpkins. What if they are bringing on some gasper
from New York? I used to be an inhabitant of the Bronx
myself and no Broadway canary is going to overshadow me.


How Hollywood's Silent Puppets turned

We've all had voice tests, anyhow, and in the movie racket we
pay attention to the director and nobody else, so pipe down."

Mr. Slipe yawned and patted his mouth with a pudgy white
hand. "Never mind the breast heaving," he advised. "Now,
then, you people, you'll listen to me and like it, and so will your
director when I'm ready for him. You've never made a talk-
ing picture; you know nothing about them. Well, / do, and
besides being out here as monitor expert for the electric
company that controls the patent, I'm also an authority on
tone. I'm the new boss, and all the dirty looks in the state
won't alter the fact."

"You have a most unfortunate manner," said Mr. Hoople
angrily. "Haven't you enough intelligence to cultivate the
good will of the actors who will work with you?"

I DON'T have to," snapped the expert. "I don't believe that
any of you can act. You silent players are nothing more than
puppets." For the twentieth time his fishy eyes strayed down
the table to a svelte redhead partially concealed by a flowered
chiffon dress, and for the twentieth time he mustered what he
imagined to be a winning smile. "One exception duly noted,"
he continued oilily, "in the case of that extremely decorative
young lady in the corner," and ignoring the stony glances of the
diners, he ambled over to the desired damsel and patted her on
the cheek. "You appeal to me," cooed ]\Ir. Slipe.

For the twentieth time Joyce Cleary's eyes turned to black
ice and her sun-tanned legs itched to convert the Lothario into a
goal from the field. While she possessed a thorough knowledge
of the Hollywood catechism, there was something so peculiarly
offensive in Mr. Slipe's gaze that she ceased to remember it
would be good politics for a mere second lead to engage in a little

Instead, she slid away from his
flabby touch and jutted her small
chin to an angle unbecoming her
oval face with its coronet of smoothly
brushed hair. "Hands off, you
miserable little rabbit," she cried.
"Where do you think you are?"

"In the iilm colony, of course,"
mouthed ]\Ir. Slipe, on whom the
combined gin, warmth and growing
sense of power were beginning to
have an effect. "The land of free
love and orgies. Don't you suppose
I read the papers? Come on, girlie,
be friendly — "

MISSCLEARY shoved him off and
lowered a threatening shoulder.
"Stop, I tell you," she warned, "or
you'll be sorry." Behind her, Carlos
rose from his chair and sauntered
down the room.

"Don't get emotional, ' scofi'ed the
expert, pawing his way forward, "and
there's nobody going to hurt me,
girlie. I'm the new bo , ouch!''

The impetuous Joyce, shifting with
the grace and abandon that spoke of
hours on the tennis court, had
launched a straight left that curled
Mr. Slipe's generous nose even fur-
ther north, and he retreated against
the wall as the bloodthirsty ]\Iiss
Cleary showed every intention of
following up with a right hook. The
next moment Carlos interposed a pair
of weU tailored shoulders and smiling-
ly captured the belligerent actress.

"You took the idea right out of
my head," he told her, "and I guess
this will be the last course in the
meal." He winked approval, and
then surveyed the expectant row of
faces behind her. "Come on, gang,
let's enjoy our last slice of freedom
before they start shooting tomorrow."


Miss Cleary, trembling from the reaction that follows artistic
achievement, allowed herself to be steered through the door,
followed by the sympathetic cast who were busily engaged in
scattering derisive remarks concerning blond greenhorns with
mechanical minds. Only Mr. Hoople remained to hurl the

"My advice to you," he thundered, "is, as the vulgar say,
to pull in your neck. When you insulted that young lady you
antagonized everyone who works for Stupefaction. You're
an interloper, sir!"

Mr. Slipe staggered to the table, foraged for the pineapple
gin and downed another bracer. "Rubbish," he mumbled.
"Any psychologist would tell you that the girl is really nuts
about me. Interloper, eh? You'll find out how important I
am when I start polishing up you Hollywoodenheads."

"Perhaps we will," admitted Mr. Hoople, "but look out for

TEN miles away in Los Angeles the somnolent dinginess of
the Santa Fe station was being revitalized by the magic
wand of expectancy. A pleasantly pulpy strip of royal blue
carpet, stored in the parcel office between welcomes, spanned
the sixty feet from Track A to the smudgy brick portals.

Platoons of cameramen, reporters, tourists and idle taxi
drivers grouped themsCives in positions of vantage, while even
the torpid newsagents peered alertly from amid a jumble of
post cards, chocolate bars and illegitimate Navajo souvenirs.

To lend an international tone to the affair, two or three
hundred Mexicans and Chinese milled curiously in the back-
ground and ruminated on the madness of the white race when
a personage was coming to town.

upon the Expert in Dramatic Gutturals.

Finding the waiting room too hot for the employment of
brains, Mr. Abraham Zoop kirked in the narrow shadows of
noon and pestered himself with a series of questions.

As President of Stupefaction Pictures, he was wondering
if the pilgrimage of Miss Magnolia Bellairs from New York
to California had been pulled off with the proper edal.

HAD the newspaper boys in tervie wed her during the half hour
hangover at Kansas City? Had the congratulatory tele-
grams reached her at Pueblo, Albuquerque and P'lagstaff? Had
the special consignment of ice been delivered at Needles, that
anteroom to Hades? Had the publicity contact man boarded
the train at Pasadena with that two hundred dollars' worth
of flowers and gilt lettered ribbon? Had — , he paused abruptly
as a billow of perfume made him think of a Persian garden, and
sniffing in happy recognition, he looked up just in time to dodge
a beaded bag that swung dangerously near his nose.

A glamorous brunette with eyes like purple pansies was
regarding him like a rattlesnake about to devour a fascinated
frog. "You silly old cluck!" throbbed the lady in sultry tones.
"Just because the publicity saj's I'm beautiful as a statue, I
suppose you think my feelings are made of marble, hey?"

"Now, Rosie," said Mr. Zoop, smoothing the air with
appeasing palms, "be nice. All I'm askink you is to give a
couple hellos and a roll of them eyes. That ain't much, baby."

Rosie Redpath twisted her fulsome lips to a knowing slant
and tried unsuccessfully to look as tough as she felt. "Oh,
isn't it? Well, how about the humiliation of being made to
greet the woman who's stolen my part. 'Uneasy Knees' was
scheduled for me until the panic started about bringing in
these gaspers from the East. You've got
a nerve, Abie."

"Sure," nodded the president, "and that ain't all, Rosie.
Four million bucks I got invested in the picture business, be-
sides insomnia from thinkink about it. All the others are
shippink in stage talent and my nose ain't the right shape to be
snubbink profits. But listen — for why would I have you here
if it wasn't for your own good? Photographs there'll be, and a
ride to the Ambassador with a flock of motorcycle cops out in
front with their sirens screechink. Publicity, baby, and just
as much for you as this Bellairs dame. Anyhow, she's only
signed for one picture."

Miss Redpath, somewhat mollified, assumed a more grace-
ful stance, and essayed a smile for the benefit of the onlookers.
"Just the same," she said softly, "there'll be no eyework. It's
wasted on a woman because she's wiser than a man."

"Well, you're an actress, ain't you?" countered Abie.
"Then make believe you're dizzy with delight. Start twinklink,
now, here comes the train."

THE express slid dustily beneath the First Street viaduct
and wheezed to a halt as though relieved at the chance to
divorce itself from the feverish party that cluttered up the
observation platform. Inside the brass railing jostled innocent
passengers, press agents, maids, second cousins, the current
boy friend and similar deadwood, having for their focal point
the languorous Miss Bellairs, who, smiling from an ambush of
blossoms, chafed inwardly at the strain on her arms. A pair
of cynical trainmen trundled forth the portable steps, which
Miss Bellairs descended dramatically, opening her heavy eye-
lids far enough to perceive the gentleman who was to pay her
two thousand a week.

"California welcomes you,"
chirped Mr. Zoop with a grandiose
gesture, "not to mention every
member of Stupefaction's thirty-
four specials for the comink year,
and represented by Miss Redpath
and myself." The dutiful Rosie
stretched her mouth in mechanical

"I'm positively enthralled," cooed
Miss Bellairs, and the words seemed
(0 hang in mid-air like sparkling
drops of crystal. The beaming Mr.
Zoop nudged Rosie and proceeded
to listen avidly. "And in these
marvelous surroundings," contin-
ued the star, oblivious to the de-
pressing vista of warehouses on the
horizon, "I cannot fail to do my
greatest work."

ABIE applauded vigorously,
then motioned the ladies to
stand on either side of him. "But
not too close," he whispered, "be-
cause it may come out clubby in the
newspapers and oi, does Momma
rave about them suggestive pic-
tures!" Then all three leered toothi-
ly at the cameras, after which they
waded through a rising tide of wor-
shipers to the waiting motors.

During the procession to the
.Ambassador, Rosie mercilessly


Emerson Slipe paled to a sickly
chartreuse. "Rosie?" he quav-
ered. "No, she wouldn't — "
"Oh, yes, I would, dearie,"
announced Rosie. "Didn't I
spend two mushy days with you
to find out how your machinery

"You ain't got a contract,"
bellowed Mr. Zoop. "So get
your week's pay and run, don't
walk, to the nearest exit!"


^^ssip of All


s ^

Here is why Director George Fitzmaurice recently
dashed from the set in the middle of a scene for
"The Locked Door." The girl in the center is Sheila
Fitzmaurice. You knew her mother as Diana Kane,
sister of Lois Wilson

Now, fans, the lime lias come to balk!

Let us demand, with all our tact,
Not only actors who can talk

But also talkers who can act!

THERE is much ado regarding the romance of Janet Gaynor.
Hollywooders are trying to figure out whether she really has
a fancy for Charlie Farrell, now that they are working together
again. At any rate, we understand that Lydell Peck is always
so conveniently at hand that the novelty of his presence is
wearing ofif a bit with Janet. Charlie, on the other hand, is a
little bit stand-ofiish and possibly that makes him all the more

If Lydell is actually out of the studio for a moment, his proxy
is there in the form of a telegram filled with endearing young
terms, or a bottle of perfume, a box of flowers or even a box of
candy. And Janet doesn't like candy! But perhaps persistence
will win.

When she completes her current picture Lydell wants to take
her to Honolulu on a honeymoon, and we do hear that he
would be very happy to have her retire from the screen.
There, no doubt, is the rub.

WILLL\M FOX has induced John McCormack to sing for
the Movietone. McCormack has cancelled his concert
tour for next fall in order to devote his time to the production,
which will be filmed in Ireland.

HARRY LANGDON, after a long e.xile in vaudeville, came
whooping back to Hollywood laughing out loud, and
then —

His mother took sick.

His former wife slapped some sort of a legal paper on him.


Hollywood doesn't get enough of dressing
up during its working hours. At a
masquerade ball given by Basil Rath-
bone, Renee Adoree gave a good im-
personation of a young Dutch boy

The income tax boys turned up and began going over his
returns from 1923 on, just to keep busy.

His big, nickel-plated touring car and another car crashed at
a busy corner, junking both and sending an occupant of the
other car to a hospital.

"Heighho!" says Harry. "My horoscope said I was going
through a lot of these little matters for a time. I'll get by!"

So he ordered another car, is about to sign with a big com-
pany, and allows that he's going to marry again one of these

OLD Gal York and the little woman got notorious the other
night very cheaply.
They went to the Los Angeles opening of "The Trial of
Mary Dugan" — one of those hotsy-totsy premieres. In the
same row sat Bebe Daniels, Ben Lyon and OUve Tell, the last-
named the actress who played Mrs. Rice in the picture, and did
such high class screaming.




And Marion Davies appeared disguised as
a basket of cotton. Hers was voted the
cleverest of the costumes. This trick
outfit was borrowed from the antics of
the circus clowns

It happened that Cal and the madame had seen the fihii at
Its New York premiere.

Therefore, it wasn't as hot a treat as it might have been, so
during the first half of the picture they cat-napped and caught
a little much needed rest.

But they were awake enough to see that Miss Tell was
watching them with horror she didn't try to conceal. She didn't
know whether they were dead or just dumb.

As they left the theater, the beauteous Olive was standing
near the door with a group of players.

"Look," she said in her best microphone whisper, "there are
the people who slept all through this wonderful picture!" And
her friends looked, and were properly horrified, while we slank
into the night.

And unless Olive Tell reads this, she'll never know who the
two saps were who couldn't keep awake through "Mary
Dugan." She may even frighten her grandchildren with the

Here is a boy who probably doesn't know his luck.
He is William Bow, eighteen-year-old cousin of Clara
Bow. He's breaking into the movies under the
guidance of Clara. You can see that he looks like
"Buddy" Rogers

RUjMORED retirements:
Constance Talmadge, recently married to Townsend
Netcher, Chicago merchant.

Eddie Cantor, now a millionaire, and pining for a little
leisure to play golf.

THE star had just met some distinguished visitors from
Australia. "Oh, you're from Australia!" she gushed.
"How nice.

I'm going to run over there for a week-end
this summer when I'm in Paris."

HERE'S a story they tell:
Montagu Love's telephone rang in the wee sma' hours.

"Yes," answered Monte, only half-awake.

"This is Mclntyre, production manager on 'Bulldog Druni-
mond.' Just before you tried to shoot Ronald Colman in the
picture todav, what was the line you spoke?"

Monte waked up a little, searched his memory, said: "I don't
mind killing, when it's safe."

Mclntyre asked, " What's that? Talk louder."

Monte swore under his breath, but repeated the line.

"All right, thanks," came from the receiver.

And ne.xt morning they told Monte he had been talking into
a microphone, repeating a line that had recorded poorly in the
studio the day before.

G.\RY COOPER and Emil Jannings made a picture to-
gether, called "Betrayal."
They worked long hours at night and Gary was exhausted
when he came to work. A hospital scene called for Gary to be
placed on a cot. No sooner was Gary stretched out comfort-
ablv than he fell into a sound slumber. The work continued
without interruption, with Gary being moved back and forth


Will the influence of Rudolph Valentino
shape the career of his five-year-old god-
child? Bobby Ullman is the son of S.
George Ullman, Rudy's former manager.
He's making his debut in "Lummox"

from one scene to another. This was all the more realistic since
he was sleeping soundly. As it was not the sound version, the
snoring did not disturb.

After a time, Gary raised up in a startled manner and said,
"When does the picture start?"

"The picture is already finished, and you gave the best per-
formance of your life," Jannings replied.

"^■QTHING could be funnier than Nils Asther telephoning


to his Japanese houseboy. The other afternoon
called the boy to say he would not be home to dinner.
"Meester Asther no home," the boy informed him.
"Meester Asther iss talking," said Nils.
"Meester Asther no home," the boy insisted.
"Yah," repUed NUs. "He wiU be no home."

A FEW months ago friends persuaded Scott Kolk to leave
the sunny sands of the Lido to try his fortune in Holly-
wood. He is now playing an important role in Marion Davies'
most recent vehicle. Being handsome, attractive and a
thorough cosmopolitan, he was a welcome caller at the home
of any girl, but it seems to be the doorstep of Virginia Cherrill
upon which he parks most of his free time.

It is almost a rule at the Chaplin studio that Charlie fall in
love with and marry his leading lady, but perhaps Virginia will
prove an exception. Scott is evidently very persuasive.

WRITE your own headline. Jascha Heifetz recently played
with the Boston Symphony Orchestra before a dis-
tinguished audience. Many people remained after the perform-
ance to congratulate him.

But when they recognized Florence \'idor, his wife, Jascha

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