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Holt--Who Goes There?
In This Case It’s Jack, the Fascinating Scoundrel
of the Silversheet
By MARY KEANE TAYLOR
Holt’s father was a minister in ole Virginia, a far cry from the movies. Jack was up in Alaska for a long time as a mining engineer
friends whom he had made in that desolate section of Alaska.
Desolate ? Ugh ! The word makes one shiver — at least a Californian feels tempted to ask about climate, and I rushed in where angels fear to travel in a flivver, anxiously asking, “Didn’t you ‘just hate the cold weather in Alaska ?’’
“Hark to a solemn confession,” said Holt. “Tve felt colder right here in advertised California than I ever did in that north country. There’s such a deadly chill in the atmosphere here after sundown, the houses in winter seem to become veritable morgues overnight when the fires are out, but up there one wears furs and woolens, always remembering to don garments which prevent perspiration. It’s the latter that makes for chill. Of course, you dont look down on a stove, metaphorically speaking ; in fact, you have been known to get on most intimate terms with it, especially at night, when there’s nothing to do but swap tales around its cheerful sputter.”
“Did you drift right into pictures after leaving Alaska?”
“No, indeed. I was a cow-puncher and {Continued on page 66)
ACK Holt may be a villain on the
screen, but off ! I formed my
opinion while we prowled about the Lasky stage-sets, trying to locate a cozy corner away from cowboys, villains, pretty girls in evening frocks and scores of directors and scene-shifters.
First — Holt has lived almost as adventurous a career as any of the fascinating scoundrels he plays on the silversheet.
Mr. Holt’s father was a minister in ole Virginia, so that’s a far cry from the footlights. Son Jack took the route gradually, for his dad insisted on a col
lege education, and the boy studied civil engineering. Before graduation he was asked to assume control of the engineering end of a mining proposition in Alaska. He stayed up there a long time, not at all interested in his vocation, feeling always that there was something bigger for him, something which would develop into a loved hobby. However, he made good use of his time, studied types, wrote down some of his impressions, thinking they might come in handy some day, and was sorry to leave the queer, rough
( Twenty-nine,
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