Motion Picture Classic (Jan-Aug 1919)

MOTION PICTURl I. I'A\PlRb STATL' t,\C.RAVIN(i COMPANY ,»< NI^WVOaKi DE-TIGNER-T RETOUCHER/ ENGRAVER/ IPRINTINO PLATE/ POR ALL PURPO/E/ (65-167 WILLIAM /T.NEW YORK OPEN DAY b NIGHT 48 Phntos of Movie Stars I i prorhiced in half tone. On cardhoard, suitaldc for framing. Arhnckle. Ilara, Chaplin, Pickfords, \nila .Stewart, Pearl White, etc. Hoth male and female .STARS are ,.ll here in Cl. ASSY POSES. By •nail postpaid l.> cents. Stamps or l.'oin. ARDEE PUBLISHING CO. Dept. 150 Stamford, Conn. Over Night A Movie Star! Siiv Un(t Ix’CMi just a liuuulrum KWTutan' ih a JuundninT N(‘\v York onia> and she ha^l hlossonu'd into ('alltoniia s Mnebt movie star. Tliis is tlie slor.v of a pirl's life in tiie mo\ie world of lais AuKelcs-that hapi>y-«o-lucky country win re fortunes and Kfiirs are made on an Imimlso — where life is full of lljilits ami laiwhter and danclim— whore moil and \\'(>mon live niul liroatho tlie inviuoratiup: atmoMiihoie of the studio until it iK'Coinea real to thom--tiiori real, j>orhai>s. than tlie trasedies ami cointHUea of their own Hve.s. Go to-dav to .vour ixwkseller's and pet THE CLOSE-UP By Margaret Turnbull, SI. 50 Kind It and I'Uss it on to a siddier. HARPER & BROTHERS Ettabli.hed 1817 HOTEL BINGHAM — Philadelphia IN THE CENTER OF EVERYTHING Large well lighted and comfortable rooms. Hot and cold running water in every room. Only hotel having direct Subway and Elevated connection with all railroad station5» ferries and department stores. Roof C>arden. Club Breakfast. Special Luncheons. Rooms without bath, $1.50; with batn, $2.00 up. FRANK KIMBLE, Manager, Where There’s an Alice Brady There’s a Way — (Continued from page 25 to me relinquishing my vocal training. ; He would not help me in the theatrical world at all. So I ran away with a Shubert show in which Fritzi Schefif starred, getting a small jiart. When we came back to town, Dad saw me. He realized my determination— and has been my pal ever since. ' “I have been doing pictures three years. At first I thought I should never ^ get used to it. There was such a lack of [ inspiration in registering before a camI era! Such a want of human response! Such a need of applause ! But I love it. ; I love it now. And that is why I give ; my best. “The celluloid world, however, I find is hard and heartless. It doesn’t want people who ‘keep’ their ages, or who do not ‘show’ their ages. It wants those without ages. It will not stand for wrinkles and big pores and soft chins. It is cruel. It demands youth first, then j beauty. I know too well that we cannot ' all be Mary Pickfords and Norma Tal madges, and therefore, because of my silly, irregular features, I have to work a great (Jeal harder. You cannot imagine how many disappointments my nose has caused me while I have been reviewing my reels ! “There are numerous things which on the screen look trivial and of inconse' quence. But those are the details that encompass so much labor. For instance, that picture of mine, ‘The Death Dance.’ ' Do you know that every evening when my camera work had been finished, I I would go to my master and be given instruction how to dance? Oh, I can kick ' and prance about, of course, but that tango had a most' peculiar tangle of steps. It certainly took a while of rehearsing before it was filmed. So there you are! Devious details diligently done hash on the screen one second, flash off the next, and” — she pertly tos.sed her head and stretched her chin to a bewitching angle — “look like nothing.” I “Hello, there, Teddy,” she greeted j Conrad Nagel, the young man who plays I opposite her in “Forever After.” “Have I you come to fetch me ? Well, I cant go, I I cant go, I cant go,” she jovially whimpered, twisting her skirts about her, putting her finger in her mouth and laughingly chiding him as she does in the play. “No, sir, I cant go out tonight. So run along, Teddy.” .She stamped Jier foot. “Teddy, do you hear?” Roguishly widening her eyes and giving the dimples a chance' to dominate again, “I’m busy. Dont you see? Woof!” And away reluctantly went Mr. Nagel. “He’s a nice boy,” Miss Brady smiled, turning to me. “That is one reason that I gave the party. He was to have left for the navy today, but we managed to get him thirty days’ leave. Awfully young, only twenty-one. That is why he was not called before, altho he wanted so badly to go. He ” “Miss Brady,’’ interrupted the maid, : “here are some more flowers for you.” “My! It’s big and heavy and ” a the papers were torn away, the exclamz tion ensemble was — “beautiful!” “Aren’t they just heavenly?” cam from the depths of the blossoms an ferns. Miss Brady was ecstatically sul merged in their fragrance. But before she had time to ask, “Whi do you think?” and before I should hav had time to answer, a United StaU Army officer approached. “Look her .\lice,” he sternly said, “we will not a low this much longer.' Your, party, yoi friends, your ab.sence. A little fun fc you, miss, and with you. Come along He lifted her off the ground, into h arms, curtsied, as best he could, his ej cuses to me, and carried her off to tl dance floor. There was a roifsing chei — I could hear it from my post — and clapping of hands. Then, before I hs a chance to realize I had been left alon I, too, was out there, one-stepping wit Mr. Nagel. The music was mighty good. It w; a victrola they were using. As soon i one record was finished those in chaq immediately put on another. They d not want to lose a moment. They d not want to stop. They did not want give up Alice. Conrad Nagel lauglu into my ear, “Isn’t she the bully sort? |j fierce worker, tho. Do you know, if si had her way now, she’d just as lief 1 rehearsing Saxon Kling’s part with hit See that light-haired chap over there That’s Mr. Kling. He is going to tal the part of Ted when I go.” During the fifth and sixth encores v stopped in the center of the floor to ch with Mrs. Russ Whytal and F'rai Hatch (Mr. and Mrs. Clayton in “Fc ever After”). As the music struck i and we began to sway onward, Mi' Whytal sallied, “It makes us both ' happy to see Jennie acting frivolous fi a change.” ' A few hours later, when I was leavi'^ for home. Miss Brady came up to f and took my hand. “I hope you enjoy yourself,” she dimpled. “I was qu surprised with the music, myself. Tl is the first time I have not had a ba of mesmerizing musicians. But w shouldn’t we learn to get along withe them? C’est la guerre! “I did not tell you much, did I ? E then, it was impossible to talk a great di when there was so little to talk about.” And so I left this busy young worn;: I rode home thinking Miss Brady bona fide, 100 per cent Yankee. S comes that way by her parentage, h mother was French. Her Dad, (one c: not possibly call William Brady anyth! but that when thinking of him in conn] tion with his Alice), is Irish. And ; she is peculiar in the fact that she di not try to take advantage of her herita* She is not the least bit socialistic. is not a whit of a snob. Here L a ( who loves to work fifteen hours a c and zvho doesn't have to do it! ' Sriifiii >i)