The Moving Picture World (1907)

THE MOVING PICTURE WORLt). 661 so as to buzz around his head. He fights it off and gets mad and claps at the fly with his paper and hits some other people and gets into a fight and all kinds of trouble. Great. What? "Well, then the village cut-up—that's the 'rube' part you, Gordon—gets busy and puts fly paper over all „ benches and the steps, and when the borders come and the girls and boys chin each other and make dates they jet stuck on the fly paper. What?" "Not any for mine," spoke up a blonde-haired lady, ho used to play leading juvenile in the Marked for Life Company. or ie "I did a stunt like that with a motion picture bunch ast Summer and, say, that fly paper stuff didn't do a hing but put a brand new pongee of mine on the blink. onest, I scrubbed that skirt with turpentine and gas- ine. but, say, what do you think took it off ? Just com- non every-day boarding-house butter. . But T hain't got ie butter off yet and " \ "Cut out the weeps, Molly," said the manager coldly. f you don't like the fly paper to stick to your dress e can just have it pinned on. Well,!* when the couple ake a walk with the fly paper sticking to 'em, there's a ilace for the big laugh. What ? You see the first couple ;o prancing along giving each other hot air about being he swellest ever arid not knowing anything about the y paper. "Then the next couple, come in sight and they see the y paper oii the first two and holler and laugh and have its. See ? Then the third couple come along and they lave a fit at the second couple, and then the fourth couple hey pretty near die laughing at the paper on the third ouple. And you see they've got it on, too. Great. Vhat? "The last act is where the rube goes to sleep on a ch under the window at the boarding-house and itorge opens the window and. slings out all the fly paper n the rube and it sticks to his clothes and to his hair." "Nix," said the gentleman who was to play the rube ; aintively. "Butter ain't served regularly at my board 1 -house. Nix fly paper in my hair. Now don't get peevish, Gordon," said the manager a mollifying tone. "I've got a wig for you and I want • paper on it. Now cheer up." Everybody cheered up and the'party arrived finally at ie old-fashioned frame house where the pictures' were be taken. The people who lived in the house were not nthusiastic over the idea for awhile, but the manager, ho is skilled in borrowing backgrounds, succeeded - in rsuading them that no damage would be done to the ouse and that the neighbors would be treated to a mag- ificent performance free of charge. The properties were immediately opened up and a big ign put on one of the posts at the side of the steps, rked: SUMMER BOARDERS. The rube grabbed a wig and a pair of short trousers out the baggage and disappeared into a woodshed. The omen adjourned into the house and re-marcelled their arcels and powdered their noses and- then reappeared. he camera brigade unlimbered and made ready to go 'to action. AH these mysterious proceedings, especially the ap- •arahce of the rube in his short trousers and red wig, used great excitement in the neighborhood. First, two small boys playing in the street stopped in wonderment and gazed silently on the scene. A newsboy came along, took one look and then yelled to a boy back in the alley: "Come on, see de free show." Windows went up all around and heads popped out to see where the fire was and if the patrol wagon had taken the man away yet. George, who was down for the first act, took off his ioat, grabbed a newspaper and began rehearsing George had to have a bench to sit on. The family who had loaned the house were appealed to, but they had no bench. The eagle eye of the manager ranged around the neighborhood until it rested on a nice red settee on a porch. "The very thing," he said. The manager went across the street and promptly bor- rowed the settee, the woman who answered the doorbell seeming to be too much surprised to make any resist- ance. The settee was planted in front of the borrowed boar-ding-house and George pulled off his coat, flourished his newspaper and dashed up and sat down. The man- ager stood off at one side and made suggestions. "That's the stuff, George. That's right. Mop youi bald head; you're hot, see. Now business with the news- paper. Now, the fly. Fine." One of the assistants had mounted to the top of the porch and was lowering a papier mache fly down so that it would circle around George's shining dome of thought. "Fight it, George," shouted the manager. "Slam your paper at the fly. Get mad; great, get mad some more; oh, fine." George and the fly had a desperate fight, and then one of the women tripped down at the call of the manager. "Now, Maudie, you're one of the boarders, dead swell, see, and you don't know George, but you want a place to sit down and read a novel; so up you come, paying no attention.to nothing, and you sit down there on the bench with George. Now, George, you keep reading and you don't see Maudie. After she sits down the fly gets busy some more, and you shlam the paper around to hit the fly and you slap Maudie in the face with the paper. See." Georgie saw, Maudie saw, and the man working the exaggerated fly also observed. So Maudie sat down and was duly slapped with Georgie's paper and flounced away in high scorn, to the great delight of the ever-growing ; crowd in the street. . j .. "Now," said the manager, "are you all ready with the machines. All right. Now, this time we're making the picture. Remember, action's the word. Act, act, act. Work your hands and your face and your eyes. Plenty of lively action. Now, all ready." ' The. picture machine operators began to grind away on the long films on which the photographs were being made. ; . REGULAR RIOT OF ACTION. "Get in, George; get in, George," yelled the excited manager, hopping up and down. "What's the matter, are you going to sleep. That's the stuff. Now, business with the paper. Right. Now, fight the fly. Fight him some more. Great. Now quiet. Come on, Maudie. Get in, get in. Sit right down. Read your novel. Chew your gum. Now, George, fight the fly. Soak him. Wave your paper. Hit Maudie. Great. Come on, Maudie. You're dead sore. Walk out, walk out. Stop." So that part of the picture was completed. The man- ager and the picture machine operators went into con- vention to decide how the next picture was to be taken, while the troupe sat around on the steps and told of the time they played leads for Charley Frohman and made the big hit on Broadway. Maudie glowered "at