American cinematographer (Jan-Dec 1924)

January, 1924 AMERICAN CINEMATOGRAPHER Seven I3S^ Action shot showing beasts driving into triangular fence where they stampeded. crowded into a careening pack so that they were forced to go direct ]y over the top of the camera pits. The Beginning As the stampede was set into action, the horizon became a long line of moving mass. Gradually the line narrowed and grew higher as the buffalo came nearer and Mere forced closer together by the triangular fence. Then the heavy mass grew distinguishable — one could make out the horns and the heads of the beasts as they stumbled forward. Roar Arises At the same time a dim roar became audible. It increased to a wild din as the herd charged toward us. At last the leaders of the herd were upon us. We expected them to dash, unabated, across the tops of our pits. Leaders Fear Lenses But we were surprised. They halted momentarily as they, despite the surge behind them, perceived the mysterious camera lens and became conscious of the steady circular movement of the turning of the camera crank. Then, directed by a sudden decision within their thick skulls, they turned to the side and utterly avoided the fearful looking camera eves. The animals which immediately followed the leaders likewise changed their course but as the rush became heavier the force frmn behind prevented the bulk of the herd from side-stepping. By the time the middle of the pack had been reached, the buffalo, so closely were they crowded, did not even see the lenses. They jammed forward, unconscious of the fad that machines were turning on them and making a record of their charging heads and crunching hoofs. A camera hog is the buffalo as it halts, awed, before lenses. Zero Hour' For us in the pits there was an anxious moment when the hoofs of the first buffalo struck above our heads. Would the oil drum which covered the pit hold up? Or would it give way under the ponderous monsters? Would some of the beasts crash into the cavity, pen us beneath them and themselves be crushed and torn asunder under sharp hoofs as the rest of the herd stumbled onward? Into Celluloid lint once the zero hour was passed, we losl all thought of our fate and, becoming accustomed to the thunder overhead, concentrated on putting into celluloid what we saw through the 12-inch slits in our pits— just enough to allow the cameras and ourselves to look out. Sometimes we caught a clatter of hoofs which dashed within a hair of the pit opening. At other times it was a pair of enraged red eyes, or snorting nostrils. At still other moments the dust fleetingly threw up a natural veil between us and the mob while particles of earth were flung into our eyes. At last the tail-enders straggled by. The rush was over and we were able to crawl out of the pits and relieve ourselves of the dust which so generously covered us.