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Vol. 47, No. 470
Even the Gods love jokes — Plato
June, 1928
Cover Up!
I-IOLD everything! Here comes a swift one!
This week’s mail brings this letter from Francis Bensmiller, of Holly¬ wood :
“I have admired the covers of Film Fun and often wondered who the artist was doing such splendid work, but the girl in green on the palette is the most beautiful of all. The artist has put a lot of feeling into his work on this particular one, and I know that he must have a beautiful model.”
Which reminds us that there’s something in the cupboard which we’re going to put on the table for you folks pretty soon. It’s another contest, a brand-new one that has never been tried before, and it will give the monthly winners the thrill of their lives and enough cool cash for a month’s stay at the local Mills Hotel.
That’s all we can tell you. But here’s a tiny tip. Keep your eyes peeled for Film Fun’s covers.
Poetess Laureate
DEMEMBER reading some stuff ^ in Film Fun not long ago by a girl named Norma E. Kennedy. She’s putting ’em across the plate again. This time she sends us a batch of modern Mother Goose Rhymes (brought up to date). Fred Thomp¬ son is one of the principal objects of her rhythms. Here is the verse: “Ride a cock horse to Banbury Cross,
To see a fine actor upon a white horse.
No rings on his fingers, no bells qn his toes,
. But he’s the big noise wherever he goes.”
California Woman — My poor man, what brought you to this deplorable state?
New Arrival — The pew model Ford, Madame.
Alphabet Zoop!
TOUIS J. CASSAM, of Cleveland, is ^ another poet who crashes through with more verse than you can shake a stick at. Louis runs up and down the alphabet naming his favorites and the pictures they’re in.
We’re sorry, Louis, that we haven’t room to print your contrib.
Canned Jags!
TINE up on the right, sparrows, and cheer for Mrs. J. F. Thomas, of Daisetta, Texas. She’s the lass with a nose for news who shoots us the paragraph from somebody’s home¬ town newspaper which tells how one far-seeing Negro woman is cashing in on the thirst of her colored neighbors.
It seems, according to this yarn, that the girl friend in question heard somewhere or other that persons who persisted in guzzling “canned heat,” an alcoholic liquor designed for use under chafing dishes, would soon shuffle off their mortal coils. She hunted up a doctor and asked how true it all was. “Certain!” he told her. She rushed out, had the lives of a half dozen of her friends in¬ sured, and sat down to await results.
Thus far, you sure-thing bimbos, Mrs. Black Cloud has made a net profit of $6,000.72 cents.
Laff that off.
Collection
“^ERTAINLY enjoy your little magazine and wish it was com¬ ing out four times a month, but I guess it would be impossible to get together in a week the amount of quality that is published."
That’s the way Robert Campbell (we’ve lost his address) started his letter to us. Atta, boy, Bob. We re with you from the word “CYrtainU Mr. Campbell has been making a collection of movie stars, he tells us.
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