Motion Picture Magazine (Aug 1928-Jan 1929)

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He wouldn't, indeed, let you call them burdens at all. They are his "dear life interests." For isn't there also that handsome little fellow — his brother Wallace's four-yearold boy, named for Jack? The elder Jack worships him. Remember the Universal Star? '"To all outward appearances, Jack is just the same youth he was when we knew him as a Universal star twelve or thirteen years ago. He still wears that lovely Irish grin of his, which crinkles at the corners of his clear hazel eyes and illumines his white teeth in the midst of his healthy red-brown skin. Only his hair is white ! Yes, and there is this : something has gone out of him ! Jack tells you that himself. He knows it. It is the inspiration that his mother was to him. What Jack doesn't know — he couldn't know it, perhaps, measuring his sorrow — is that something else replaces that something which he has lost. But, because Jack Kerrigan is now what he is, that home of his there on Cahuenga — the rambling, long house with its wings and its endless verandas and its gardens — is an oasis in hectic Hollywood, a green resting place in the hot, mad fray, and Jack is its king. . Yet no one can say that his life isn't different from what it would have been had his mother lived. A sensitive soul .was deprived at the height of his success of its inspiration. To understand what Jack is, with all his wide, kindly philosophy, his understanding, one must explain what he was. The complete idolizing of a human being is always hard to explain. In fact, it can't be. It just has to be understood without explanation. Jack knows that. He doesn't try to explain. He doesn't talk much about his mother to most people, he said. "Mother said that she would be always with me. And she is." There is nothing of the fanatic in the way Jack says that. It is just a clear conviction. We were on the veranda now, and he was thoughtful for a moment, as he stroked one of those beloved fox-terriers of his. Jack is old-fashioned enough to like fox-terriers — none of those fierce police dogs or chows for him ! After a while he went on : "There is a wonderful portrait of Mother in the hall. She seems always to be waiting for me there." He led me in to look at it. That started me dreaming, too. For I knew Jack's mother well. It was a gorgeous day, that Sunday afternoon so very long ago when I traveled up to the house that Jack built. On the porch I found a frail but how spirited little lady seated in a wheel-chair ! She hadn't been out of that chair for years. She was an invalid. But she had done her work well. She had managed to raise, with the help of her boy Jack, those six boys and one girl of hers. And how clever they had all turned out to be, to be sure ! Kathleen Kerrigan, the one girl, had every right to be spoiled. But she wasn't. Kathleen was there with us that bright afternoon, a fine, charming, cultured woman, married, even then, quite a long time. Kerrigan's Famous Open House |/"errigan Sunday afternoons were famous in Hollywood in those days. All the noted people of stage and screen dropped in, and Jack and his invalid mother kept open house. Mary Pickfqrd and her mother came often. They were very fond of Mrs. Kerrigan. And now Mary's mother has gone, too ! That afternoon there was a noted violinist and an artist or two, whose names I'm ashamed to confess I do not recall now, and there were Allan Dwan and Pauline Bush, Dwan's wife, since divorced ; and there were Madame Aldrich, the grand opera singer ; Francis X. Bushman, Lois Wilson. She was little more than a child then, and clad in the loveliest pink taffeta gown with three ruffles on it ; and Jack's brother Wallace, with his lovely wife and beautiful, ill-fated daughter, who was burned to death three (Continued on page 117) 112