Motion Picture Classic (Jan-Aug 1919)

MOTION PICTURE CLASSIC which 1 was to grace. The little freshwater college, Elmwood, had a certain number of seats in its classroom. The previous day they had been filled to capacity. Then one of the pupils had dropped out, not because of any unfriendly feeling toward the college, but because, her chum informed me, of an offer of a “job” that would last much longer than this particular picture. It would not do to have a vacancy when Hugh Thompson was professor of Greek and pretty Evelyn Greeley was his assistant, so C. E. G. matriculated and filled the unoccupied space completely — if not gracefully. It was the spring of the year and, as every college student knows, spring and examinations are synonymous terms. We had sat up most of the night cramming Greek roots into our brains, and now we were attempting to bring order out of our chaotic thoughts. My neighbor nudged me gently in the rib that happened to be nearest to the point of her pen and inquired : “How do you translate that second sentence ?” I shook my head, registering absolute ignorance of the question at issue. At that moment Miss Greeley and Mr. Thompson looked up from their work and rapped sharply on their desks, attempting to convey the thought that such behavior at such times is covered explicitly in the Fourteen Points of the Examination Period. “But Miss Greeley is far too young to be the assistant of a college professor, is she not?” I ventured to inquire of my playful rib-poking neighbor, while Max Schneider, the camera-man, was getting ready for the next shot. “Well, you see she was brought up on Greek,” my friend replied. “Her father was Professor Illington, a renowned Greek scholar, who taught his infant daughter to utter her fir.st cries in that language. Tho he was long on learning, he was short on cash, and when he died he left Evelyn a whole library of books, out of which even Hoover couldn’t make a decent hash and not much else. Her guardian, Donald MacWrath, wanted to marry her, but she couldn’t see him at all, at all, .so in the hope of making her love him he treated her rough and made things so unpleasant for her that she ran away from home dressed in boy’s clothes. In the woods she met Professor Alden — that’s Hugh Thompson, you know — who hated girls because one of them had just treated him to a Jess Willard. He thought Evelyn was a boy, because none of her curves showed or anything, so when he found out she could read Greek he invited her to come to see him. One day she popped into his office and introduced henself as Damophilia, Phil’s twin sister.” “ ‘My brother said you’d be awful glad to see me,’’” she assured him. “Professor Alden was just resigning position because all the girls were The Extra Girl and Evelyn Greeley (Continued from page 53) giving him flowers and making eyes at him and everything.” “ ‘Wherever you go, you’ll find females,’ the president told him. ‘Stay here and I’ll try to protect you. I’ll get you an assistant to handle the girls and you can take charge of the boys.’ ” “‘Wont I do?’ Evelyn asked, and she was engaged right on the spot. That’s how she happens to be here.” “Now all the girls turn their heads toward Mr. Thompson, all the boys toward Miss Greeley,” Director Oscar Apfel interrupted. “Bend over your papers until I count ten, then up and turn.” We were not in the later scenes, but we sat around watching the proceedings with great interest. Unanimously the extra girls and boys were very much in favor of Miss Greeley. This was her first picture as an independent star. As I have watched some stars I have asked, “How did it happen?” Haven’t you? But with Miss Greeley one knows exactly how. She has a large amount of the sweet winsomeness that characterizes Mary. Of course, there is only one — one Mary, I mean. She has none of the star airs, nor does she look as if she is apt to acquire them. She seems to enjoy the company of her fellow players, and the extras talk to her just as freely as they do to members of their own group. Most of the girls were rubbing aching backs and limbs this particular day. Miss Greeley was preparing to introduce the Greek dances she had learnt from the pictures in her father’s books. Director Apfel had decided that they should be staged in proper Greek style, so had engaged a competent dancing instructor, under whose watchful eye the extras had been rehearsing for hours the previous day. “Oh, I can scarcely walk !” one of them exclaimed, as she sank stiffly into a chair off-stage. “You’re not accustomed to dancing, then?” another extra suggested, with a superior air, as she straightened up to prove that she was free from aches and pains. “Of course. I’m accustomed to dancing, Pavlowa,” the first returned. “But I’m up-to-date. The stuff we’re doing now must have been invented when Adam was an infant. Perhaps that’s when you learnt it.” When Mr. McIntyre engaged me he mentioned that there was to be a dancing scene and suggested that, if I practiced with the rest of the girls, I might be permitted to trip the light fantastic over Mother Earth’s muddy chest some day in the near future. In previous existences I have felt the combination of dirt, pebbles and prickly weeds yield to the weight of my unencumbered feet. However, I decided to be game, but on the first round I learnt that I was entering a sort of contest. The girls whose elbows, knees and chins formed the letter “Q” in the most efficient man ner would be chosen for the final exhibition. The other pupils of the college had a long start by both nature and training, so I decided to withdraw voluntarily. “One, two, three — down ; one, two, three — up !” the instructor called. How glad I was for the shelter of the friendly trunk. It always does pain my sense of the aesthetic to dance without music. A week later I met one of the dancers on the Fort Lee boat. “Were you chosen?” I inquired. “Sure, but let me whisper something. Doing the Greek on the American green isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Maybe you think the early spring mud is as soft as it looks. Well, stick to it next time and you’ll find out.” I smiled agreeably. I could afford to smile agreeably this and many succeeding mornings. Why, you will learn in our next. Then you will join Miss Wriggles and me in a gurgle of girlish delight, you will. A Rod That Grew Up Straight (Continued from page 48) new picture. The management didn’t know quite what to do, until I up and suggested that they let me play the part. They looked at me in astonishment. ‘Why, you play heavies,’ they remonstrated, unwilling to be joggled out of their rut of preconceived ideas. ‘What of it?’ I asked. ‘I know I can do leads; try me. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.’ They let me play the part and I’ve been doing leads practically ever since. But in reality it’s a great deal more difficult to be the character man than the hero. The hero generally has a pleasant all-around time of it and gets all the praise ; the character man has to really act.” Rod talks with a delicious drawl, which may be the result of his birthplace, Canada, or the delight he takes in recounting humorous happenings. He loves to introduce his slender young mother as Mrs. La Rocque, because every one takes her to be his wife; and, when his young sister is along, nothing pleases him quite so much as to have her mistaken for his daughter. He considers his work in “The Venus Model,” with Mabel Normand, the most satisfactory he has yet done and he doesn’t wish to sign up with any stock company. He believes that he will accomplish more by free-lancing and associating with different directors and companies with each new picture than by being tied to any one organization. He has a horror of becoming narrow and groove-like. But — “It doesn’t pay to be too serious,” said Rod, teasingly. "You get serious, get married, then divorced! Might better spend your money on good clothes and have a good time. Eh — what?” And his teasing smile left me dubious as to whether he was joshing me or — serious ! ( Sixtyfour)