Moving Picture Exhibitors' Association.

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

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Skelly, now under contract to Paramount,
has a house. He's all for the idea. When
he runs out of ginger ale he can just drop
out in the back yard and pluck a few
oranges. Charles Mack, the Black Crow
with the tired voice, has purchased .a
swankv mansion in Beverly Hills — the only
typically modern art structure in Southern
California. Whereas he used to buy the
missus " jools" on events like anniversaries
he now buys her peacocks, live ones. Just
little ornaments for the garden.

Eddie Buzzell, star of many musical
shows, wanted to buy a house and have a
garden. First [ ple.\se turn to page 138 ]

The little white arrow points westward, and
dozens of Broadwayites have taken the
hint. But New York has not yet become the
Lost City. Two or three taxis ply their
trade as of old, and white men may still be
seen in the wastelands of Times Square


A Hollywood


K -tfirs






IT was the most extraor-
dinary document that had
ever come up for a studio
manager's okay. And
Eddie M alien had seen some
pretty wild ones too. He had
been comptroller for two Von
Stroheim pictures; counter-
signed checks through the two
year vicissitudes of "Ben
Hur"; and that very after-
noon had okayed a ten thou-
sand dollar bead bill for a
certain-to-be-censored King
Solomon dissolve; tacked the
railroad accommodations of a
New York jaunt by an ex-
ecutive's family onto the cost
sheet of a dog picture; and
paid the rental of an alley cat
equivalent to the cost of a

hundred cats, because someone had forgotten to send the animal
back after one day's use!

But this — this mauve enveloped, violet scented bill from
Jerry Wilton's office! "Debtor, Eileen O'Hara" — whoever the
hell she was! Eddie scratched his broken, prize fighter nose, as
he always scratched it before engaging in battle with a big
director, and swung off for Jerry Wilton s office.

But he did not find Jerry there, or any place in the studio, for
that matter. In fact, it was almost three days before Eddie
was able to piece the story together from the gossip that so ably
supplements the news sheets of Hollywood.

A WOODEN horse was responsible for the fall of Troy. The
downfall of Eileen took place because of a rubber one. A
strange, striped creature whose coloring and physiognomy bore
no resemblance to reality. A sea-horse that gamboled and
hobbled upon the waves with a serene impudence.

-Apparently alone and unattached, it challenged to adventure.
Eileen, weary of her aimless troubled stroU down the Santa

Jerry Wilton Made One to Eileen O'Hara

Love to Make

INIonica beach, flung down her yellow flannel bathing cape, and
crashed into the curling surf, her slender arms cutting the
breakers in a long graceful crawl.

Cresting a wave, she captured the saucy creature and tried to
mount it. It turned. It spun. It dumped her backwards into
the sea. When she came up through swirling greenness, she
heard a voice, a throaty masculine voice.

"I can't ride the darned thing either. But maybe if I hold
his ears for you — "

She became aware of a smiling bronzed face and curly red
hair close beside her. Even in the water, she could feel the
magnetism of the stranger's personality. He held the bouncing
steed. She tried again and flopped back into his arms.

"Now give me a chance," he said.

She gave him not only one, but two and three, until finally he
mastered the art, and sitting far forward, legs spread as widely
as possible, he paddled triumphantly to shore with Eileen hang-
ing on behind and balancing in moments of peril.

As they dropped exhausted on the beach, he cast an admirmg

^^Jf o$.

— But It Took Much Persistence, Time and
Him Keep It!

To Eileen O'Hara,
fresh from Illi-
nois, Margalo
party at her
beach shack was
Famous film
stars laughed,
flirted, plunged
in the jade-green
pool. And her
cup of wonder
was full when
Jerry Wilton, her
director escort,
led her to a hand-
some figure on
the sand and said,
"Eileen, this is
Jack Gilbert"

Illustrated by


glance at Eileen's trig figure in its smart peacock-blue bathing
suit — the suit she had won at the High School aquatic iheet.

"I didn't know there was anyone who could swim as well as
that at Margalo's party," he said.

" But I'm not at Margalo's party," laughed Eileen. " I don't
even know who Margalo is."

"Tie that!" he said. "Do you mean to say you don't know
who Margalo Thompson is?"

"Oh, the picture star!" breathed Eileen reverently, for to
her, as to most people in the United States, the shadowy
luminaries of the screen were a world apart. "Do you actually
know Margalo Thompson?"

"Sure. Didn't I tell you I was at her party? That's her
beach shack over there."

"Shack! Why that's a palace!" exclaimed Eileen, gazing at
the huge white affair, Moorish with burnt red tiles and multi-
colored awnings.

"Say, if you think that's swell, you ought to see Marion
Davies' or Bebe Daniels'."

"You know them too?" breathed Eileen.

" I ought to. I've directed their best pictures. I — " here he
paused and spoke with the air of making an important an-
nouncement, "/ — am Jerry Wilton."

"Not Jerome Wilton, the great director?"

"Tell that to the critics," he laughed.

""^"OU certainly are. I go to every one of your pictures and
i think they're wonderful. I saw 'Love's Wings' six times.
How do you do it ? "

"It's knowing life, I guess," said Jerry soberly. "I may not
be much on books or theories, but I've had a bit more than my
share of bumps and knocks. It's sort of taught me to feel
things. Yes, I may not put in some of the stunts the foreign
directors do, but as Louella Parsons says, I know Life."

Eileen looked at the handsome stalwart young figure beside
her. Yes, there were traces of pain in those sparkling eyes and
strange furrows etched on the ruddy skin of his cheeks and

brow. [ PLEASE TURN TO PAGE 118 ]


Gossip of AW

Canadian Pacific

Ten million breakfasts halted — ■

Ten million grapefruit waited — •
Ten million voices luhispered —

Ten million breaths were bated.
The mightiest words of tongue or pen

Were "Clara Bow's engaged again!"

IF there is one thing old Cal hates, it's a cynic, but he can't
help remarking, under his breath, that Clara Bow, our little
Clara, has been celebrating Help-the-Boy-Friend Week.

The announcement of her engagement to Harry Richman
didn't send many people into hysterics.

Richman, while well known to New York playgoers and
night club hounds, doesn't mean a thing to picture audiences
anywhere, and he certainly could use a good push ahead now
that he is making a picture for United Artists. What harder
shove to the front pages could he get than a betrothal to
The Brooklyn Bonfire, except by taking a pot shot at the

BUT enough of cj'nicism. Clara and Harry, who recentl)'
had his nose bobbed, are really good friends, and they were
seen a lot of places when Bow last visited New York.

It may be all True and Beautiful and Sweet. Perhaps the
bells will ring out, and the turtle doves coo, and the cameras

And at the same time Harry Richman is trying to get a toe
hold in the film world, and Clara keeps making new movies.

So let's just say the romance was the sweetest little coin-
cidence that ever united a bounding broth of a Broad-
way boy and a little red-head with a rolling eye and a way
with her!

LON CHANEY is a mighty sick man, and one of the greatest
troupers of them all has been forced to step out of a picture!
Lon has been ordered to the Yellowstone to rest up after a
siege of pneumonia and a tonsil operation, and Wally Beery has
been hurled into the breech to play in Lon's ne.Kt scheduled
production, "The Bugle Sounds." Where Lon would have
made it silent, Wally will do it as an all-talker.

Our Hero may be out of pictures for several months, for he's


A posy for Maurice from the fair
white paddy of his little bride.
Under the wide skies and among the
lakes and mountains of the Ca-
nadian Rockies, May McAvoy and
Maurice Cleary spent their honey-
moon, after one of Hollywood's
largest weddings. "Love and career
for me," says May. "I'll stick to the
screen and Maury, too!"

Cosmo News

Million candle power smiles alight, French pol-
ished up and ninety-four trunks crammed, the
Gilberts are Europe-bound! Here are Jack and
Ina as they stepped from a train in New York.
They'll be back in the film foundries some time
early in October

in bad shape. Here's hoping he has a grand rest in the sun and
shade of the open spaces, and makes a quick return to us. Wc
can't spare Lon for long. He has no substitute in pictures, or
our hearts.

THE John Gilberts — plus ninety-four trunks, a maid and
two big smiles — sailed away for Europe in midsummer.
It is Jack's first trip abroad, and a small boy on circus day


The small, wrinkled object in the
center of this little family party is
distinctly camera-shy. It is too
little and too new to the ways of the
world to care to look at a birdie or
even a flock of purple-crested rhi-
noceroses. It is the first son of Mr.
and Mrs. Raymond Hackett, Ray
being the fine M.-G.-M. juvenile

scrapping was going on in the new family. They certainly
looked happy enough as they held hands and posed for an
army of photographers.

Jack and Ina made one of these forty-eight hour trips across
the country, and Ina was amazed at the throngs of women who
came to station and airport for a look at her husband.

"You should have seen the women at Columbus," said Ina.
"Thousands of them, and they all looked at me as much as to
say, ' Well, he could have done better!' "

At this point Jack broke in to say, "E.xcuse me, but I'm

And darned if he wasn't !

usual midnight


"Bathe me. bathe my dog!" says the superb
Dolores Del Rio, as she heads for the pool at
Wardman Park Hotel, Washington. This is a
rare view of The Mexican Masterpiece, made
during her triumphal personal appearance tour
with "Evangeline"

would be considered bored to death beside Gilbert's excitement
over the jaunt to the old world.

New York newspapermen gave the beaming couple a pretty
bad time of it. They insisted on pestering the honeymooners
with questions about Garbo, and about the rumors of discord
in the Gilbert home.

Jack had nothing to say on the Greta matter, and both he
and Ina Claire absolutely denied the widespread reports that

^^ snack at Henry's noted beanery.

A writer, nosing for news, asked, "Started work again,

"Not yet," said the little buffoon. "At the moment I am
just between scandals."

ALICE WHITE has a new boy friend!
The peppery little blonde is buzzing about, these days,
with Sid Bartlett, a young New York actor who is a protege
of Sophie Tucker's.

Take this, then, as the Alice White Bulletin for October.

AFFAIRS move fast in the life of Stepin Fetchit, the dark
three-Cadillac boy who went famous in "Hearts in
Dixie." No sooner had he taken himself a wife than one
Yvonne Butler, who appears to be a woman scorned, slapped a
hundred thousand dollar breach of promise suit squarely on
Step's beetling brow.

The fair Yvonne deposes and says that Fetchit allowed as
how he'd like to marry her, 'way back last November, and
then marched off to the altar with another gal.

Stepin Fetchit, the dark cloud, is looking right now for a
silver lining, and finding nothing but storms.


ERBERT BRENON was making a very important
scene, recently, and everything v.'as turning sour.
A young player didn't seem to get the hang of the situation,


Nancy Carroll, as usual with few clothes
and plenty of charm, the way she looks
in "Illusion," her next picture with
Buddy Rogers. Watch for a fascinat-
ing life story of Nancy in the next

and Brenon was beginning to turn purple just above the collar,
and his staff was getting ready to dive for the cxclone cellar.

At last the breaking point was reached. With a noble effort
at restraint, Brenon walked over to his chair with bowed head.
Then, raising his hands dramatically toward Heaven, he ex-

" Oh, God ! Why did you give ME all the brains?"

"\A7HAT do you consider your two greatest achieve-
ments?" an inquiring reporter asked Wally Beery the
other day.

Wally, who knows practically all the answers, didn't even
stop to take a deep breath.

"Being an elephant trainer," he fired back, "and the
husband of Gloria Swanson."

YOU know how we all have our blue days, our unlucky days
and our rent days. So you'll be amused to know that Greta
Garbo has her Swedish days.

When the glamorous one makes an effort, she can speak
English with almost no accent, but very often she just doesn't
care a darn.

On her Scandinavian days she walks into her dressing room
and says, "Alma, bring me dot comb and giff me dot powder,
joost behind de mirror."

But on her careful American days, she says, as prettily as you
please, "Alma, where is my comb? And bring me that powder,

But Greta the Great is getting more careful all the time, for it
won't be long until she faces the microphone for her first phono-
play, "Anna Christie." And her favorite reading these days is
a well-thumbed English-Swedish grammar.


Do you see any resemblance, in this family group, to
a much-mourned film star? The 14-year old lad in
the center is Jean Valentino, nephew to the late
Rudolph, With him are his parents, Mr. and Mrs.
Albert Guglielmi, who do. Jean has been in Italy

CUPID seems to have taken a pot shot at Gwen Lee, and to
have winged her very neatly.
The beauteous blonde seems sorely smitten with the charms
of Jack Oakie, some of our very best comedy relief, and the
couple is visible almost nightly making merrj' conversation at
one or another of the Hollywood lunch counters.

Well, happy daj's, and may all your troubles be wisecracks!

A THOUSAND dollars an hour! Do you suppose you
■^^ could stand off the installment collector with a fee like

That's what Marilyn Miller collected for her camera
labors in "Sally." The queen of the Ziegfeld girls received
$100,000 for the picture, and she put in an even hundred
working hours. Truly, Heaven has protected the working

LIVING ghosts come to Hollywood functions.
We and the screen forget so fast.

A pretty young matron entered the church for the May
IVIcAvoy-Maurice Cleary wedding. No camera shutters
snapped. No small boys cheered. Few, if any, recognized her.
Years ago her name was on everybody's lips. It was Mae
Marsh, one of Griffith's great developments of the Biograph era
and afterward.

Mae lives quietly in Altadena, a hilly suburb of Pasadena,
devoting all her time to her three children. She says she has
almost lost track of movie developments — just as we have
almost lost track of her. So it seems to be a pretty even break.

CL.ANG, clang! More wedding bells.
After all these months, Merna Kennedy and James Hall
are going to do it. The wedding is set for mid-October, and
Jimmy is whitewashing and primping up the old HaLl homestead
to receive the fair young bride.

P. S. The wedding will be a quiet one. That means, proba-
bly, that there won't be more than a thousand guests.

JOAN CRAWFORD is going to be every inch a Fairbanks,
if it kills her, and her serious minded young spouse, Junior
Fairbanks, is going to help her all he can.

With the wedding bells still vibrating, young Doug thinks
it is time he clamped down on undignified publicity for Joan, so

Who's the pretty little dark-eyed blonde? Three
guesses, and you're still wrong. It's Colleen Moore,
wearing a yellow wig in "Footlights and Fools," her
next and last First National talkie-singie. With her
is Max Scheck, a famous director of musical numbers

you'd better save up your pictures of Joan's pretty legs, and
preserve the precious specimens in back numbers of Photo-
play. If dashing Douggie can help it, the superb Crawford
stems will no longer twinkle from the pages of the nation's

Old Cal, therefore, proposes to start a bureau lo bootleg this
sort of Crawford publicity, which may be undignified, but is
certainly elegant and exciting.

Some players fail to win the throng

By letting words run riot,
While Garbo conquers every heart

By merely keeping quiet.

EVERY Sunday nioining, rain or shine and hot or cold, Nick
Stuart drives over lo Sue Carol's tepee for breakfast.
Sue shows her love for Nick by dishing up a big mess of hot

And Nick shows his love for Sue by eating them.

Greater love hath no handsome leading man with dimples!

■pUGS BAER, the perennial wit, views all this dieting
•^with a jaundiced eye.

"If this keeps up," said Bugs the other day, "we won't
be eating at all. We'll be playing tiddly-winks with water-
melon seeds!"

EVERYONE is rooting for Harry Langdon, the grand little
comic whose star has been clouded too long.
He has a job, again, and on July 27 he took himself a pretty
little wife in the person of Helen Walton of Toledo, O., a sister
to Alice Calhoun.

Harry's had too many bad breaks in the last few years. We
all hope that with plenty of happy work to do and a nice wife
to get out the carpet slippers and pipe when the day's over,
Langdon will come back in a very big way.

THE film fans of the world would be a happy lot if all their
favorites were as thoughtful of them as .^nita Page.
Metro's blonde beautv has a carefully kept file of all her fan
mail, which is carefully tended by her adoring and vigilant dad.
A tremendous lot of it is answered personally.

And on quiet evenings at home Anita does a lot of tele-

Cuties come and cuties go, but Clara
Bow-de-o-do never has a serious rival as
belle of the California beaches. Here
she is giving the camera a full blast of
It. Her next— "The Saturday Night

phoning to her local admirers,

What a thrill for the Page

HOLLYWOOD is beholding a new and fascinating Aileen
The handsome Aileen has dyed her hair a beautiful reddish
blonde and has bathed in the sun until she now sports one of the
finest coats of tan to be found in the tanful film colony.

The effect is amazing, and the always interesting Aileen is
now more engrossing than ever.

JACK DEMPSEY was submitting to an interview.
"Are you a self-made man, Jack?" asked one of the
bright young pressman.

This was the wife's cue, and EsteUe spoke right up.
"Just say he is a Taylor-made man!" she suggested,

YOU can get away with almost anything in picturewise old
One bright and sunny morning a group of jolly thugs held up
Mr. Sid Grauman's Chinese Theater and trotted off with
$14,000, American money.

Guests at the Roosevelt Hotel, across the street, watched idly
from their windows, remarking, "Just another movie!" But
it wasn't stage money.

CLAR.'V BOW may soon be paying alimony. But not to
Harry Richman!
Robert Bow, Clara's papa, has recently been divorced by his
youthful wife, Tui Lorraine, and Clara, who has dutifully
shared in her father's business [ please turn to page 70 ]


Talkie Stays On

It may not be off with the old and on with

the new this time, for "Talkie" has a strong

hold on the public

JA^ response to Photoplay's
request Jar a new name for the
talkies, between 15,000 and
16,000 suggestions were received.
Letters poured in from all over the
world. There were names of
every variety: technical and non-
technical, complex and simple,
dignified and flippant.

One word, in particular, stood
out in all this deluge as appro-
priate, euphonious and simple.
That word was " phonoplay."
So, to Howard B. Knight, who
wrote the most lucid and compre-
hensive letter advocating "phono-
play" as a name for the talking
picture, goes Photoplay's
award of $500.

In all probability "talkies''
will contimie to be the familiar
and commonly accepted name —

This Letter Wins
$500 Prize

w ^«


Howard B.

/ Suggest the


'T'HE word "phone" has come to be a popu-
-*- lar word associated with the human voice.
Telephone, phonograph, etc., need no ex-
planation to convey their meaning to the

The word "photoplay" is so indeUbly im-
pressed upon the mind of the general public
that the changing of one letter will convey the
new meaning of the moving picture and at the
same time retain the valuable parts of this
popular designation without the need of an
artificial or explanatory campaign to establish
this as the new name for the talkies.

Howard B. Knight
127 Amersfort Place,
Brooklyn, New York

for the word has taken too strong
a hold on the popular mind to be
easily supplanted. Nevertheless,
"Phonoplay" seems the best sub-
stitute brought to light by the New-
Name-for-the-Talkies contest.

Unfortunately, the contest had
one tragic result. One day, when
the flood of letters had swamped
the entire office, the postman en-
tered with a new load. The Con-
test Editor, who had been looking
not at all well, gazed at him
wanly, threw up her hands and

She was removed to Dr. Zilch' s
Sanitarium where she has been
confined ever since. Thinking
that it would be of interest to our
readers, we have prevailed upon
her to write an account of her
sad experience. Read on.

WHEN people enter contests
(and if you don't believe
people enter contests just
come to see me in my private padded room at Dr.
Zilch's Sanitarium) they think of the prizes, of the fame to be
achieved, of the subject — and even occasionally of the rules.
But does anyone ever think of the Contest Editor? Humph!

When I stepped up to receive my diploma at College, old Pro-
fessor Snitch looked at me piercingly. All students at old Confetti
know that merciless Snitch gaze. It bores into thevery brainof the
undergraduate and there nine times out of eight finds a vacuum.

Said Professor Snitch: "My child" (he always called me
"my child"), "what is your ambition?"

"Professor," I said, "I want to be a Contest Editor."

The kindly old monologist looked into my clear, young eyes.

"Comme ci. comme ca. So it goes! " he said in a husky voice.
"Freud be with you!"

1 was too young then to understand what he meant. Now,
alas! it is all clear to me. I know now why the ancient and
eminent gramophone looked startled. I know now why he


By Harriet Parsons

tore my diploma in half and said : " This
cannot help you." I know — for I hav'e
become a Contest Editor.
.At the moment of writing I am sitting in the Louis Quinze
(pronounced Katz after Balaban and Katz) room at the Zilch
Sanitarium for Homicidal Maniacs. They brought me here
after I was discovered wandering about the Photoplay office
■with a goofy look in my eyes. In ray right hand I bore a slip
of paper, which, when taken away from me by force, was found
to bear the cr\'ptic inscription " Sonolocaphonitonalogopho-
teagraph. " I was crooning softly:
"Phono, sono, tono,
Voca, loca, phote,
Ta-tata, ta-tata, ta-tata,
A-hunting we will go!"
In the quiet and peace of Dr. Zilch's institution, in my cosy
straight-jacket, I have compiled the following statistics of the
New Name for the Talkies Contest. These statistics will ex-
plain w'hy I did not even resist when Dr. Zilch's attendants
came to lead me away. They will [please tltrn to page 130]


Leonard Hall




Regarding Kay Francis,

the First Menace of the


NOT so long ago a long-legged, short-haired,
frank-eyed girl stepped boldly upon a big
sound stage at the Long Island studio of
Paramount pictures.

Her name was Kay Francis (Katherine for short),
and for three brief years she had strutted upon the
speaking stage. Never in her life had she stood un-
armed before a snarling motion picture camera.

Director Millard Webb said, "One, two, three, go!"
She went! The next day two things had happened.

First, Kay Francis, as the snaky secretary in
"Gentlemen of the Press," had given one of the most
astonishing first performances in the history of motion

Second, she had appeared, in a blaze of glory, as the
first great vamp of the audible pictures, using a type
of male-killing technique that is perfection itself for
the new form of entertainment.

Movies go and talkies come, but screen sirens must and will
go on forever. Sound or silent, there is always a menace in
skirts that must stand between the fine young hero and the

Online LibraryMoving Picture Exhibitors' AssociationPhotoplay (Volume 36 – 37 (Jul. - Dec. 1929)) → online text (page 78 of 145)