Motion Picture Magazine (Aug 1928-Jan 1929)

s / No Mother to Guide Him (Continued from page 112) years ago when her clothing caught fire it (I from a lighted Christmas candle, and Wally's eldest son. Wallace has three sons now. Somebody inside was playing the piano, but the rest of us sat out on the long veranda of the rambling house, in the wicker chairs and swing hammocks, under large, gaily colored sun umbrellas, underneath which the bright-colored dresses of the girls made a pretty picture. We heard that day the discussions about the Hollywood Bowl. I forgot to say that Carrie Jacobs Bond was one of the guests. The Hollywood Bowl, since grown so famous, wasn't in existence then. But Mrs. Kerrigan was much interested. And it was on that very veranda that the Bowl was voted into existence, a few weeks afterward, with Mrs. Carter, the president ; Mrs. Bond and the other musical enthusiasts present. "Now I don't entertain any more. I never shall. I just can't get the spirit back !" Jack brought me out of my reverie. This Sunday was just as bright with sunshine as that other Sunday. But everything was silence now. There were no gay sun umbrellas on the veranda, no pretty dresses, no gay talk. Perhaps more important still to his many fans, who still write letters imploring him to come back to the screen, he has never worked since, except in a very few pictures. No Heart for Further Work I just don't care to work any more. Oh, I won't say that I won't," he explained cheerily, "but I would play only those parts that appealed to me — parts in which my friends could be proud of me — and yes, my mother, too ! "You know," Jack spoke up quickly as though to loosen some flood of feeling within him, "I did not want to take that engagement in 'The Covered Wagon.' Didn't want to go on that long location trip. But Mother begged me to. After I had left, she told the others, I found out later, T shall never see my boy again !' I think she knew she was going to leave me. I think she didn't wish me to be with her t at the last. I think she wanted me to remember her as she was, so alive ! "It was a terrible ride home from location when mother was passing !" Jack never uses the word "death" in connection with his mother. "My brother Wally was with her. No — no, I didn't get there in time ! But she left messages, many messages for me !" It is quite plain all that is as though it were yesterday with Jack. And ah, those messages ! There was so much more meaning in them than anybody who conveyed them could know. It wasn't just the words. It was hardly the words at all, in fact. It was just the little drifting memories they roused, the poignant, cherished understandings, fleeting tendernesses that were hardly more than the trembling accent of a tone, the pressure of a hand. "Mother was just one who will live on always," said Jack with that simple conviction of his. "But, no, that's not true of everyone. Some souls destroy their own memories in our hearts as they go along !" Jack looked off toward the poppystrewn hills. "Sorrow isn't what we think it is," he said. "I thought at first I couldn't bear mean when we were putting her away), so when we came home I begged to be allowed to come into the house alone. But the moment I passed the threshold I knew she was there with me. That terrible burden was lifted!" There Is to Be a New House Jack is going to sell that old house with all its memories ! "Well, it doesn't matter," he said when I half demurred. "Mother will be with me wherever I go." And would he take her things? Oh, yes, surely. And that little willowtree that he planted, a little willow slip it was from one of her funeral bouquets. All the flowers he can manage. • And her room, we wondered. Well, yes, he would take that furniture with him, of course. Place it in a room to remember her by, just as it was in the old house. "You see," he told me, "her room is just as it was when she went away. It has never been disturbed. It is never opened except when Sis comes. Sis loves the room. She prefers it to her own. "I couldn't leave that furniture of hers nor sell it. I used always, you know, to tuck mother in of nights. Even if it was three o'clock in the morning when I came home, I'd always have to go into her room, and tell her good night. "And the mornings sometimes, too, still seem lonely. She always insisted on having breakfast with me. Even when she could hardly get about, before she took to her wheel-chair for good, she insisted on making my breakfast. She thought it wouldn't be just right unless she fixed it herself." And Jack never plays the piano nor sings since his mother "went away." Who can explain the holy mystery of that "closeness" with the thing itself so rare that no words have ever been invented to describe it? "I haven't," Jack went on, "missed my work at all ! You see, I have a few business interests, and I take entire care of this half-acre about my house. No hand except mine touches these plants. "I have occasionally a friend here, and I have my fox-terriers. One of them has just had pups, great little beggars," he pointed to the basket presided over by their importantly anxious and growling mamma. "And there are the birds. Why, the quail in the hills up there bring their young right down here to my shrubbery. "I never go out anywhere, because I don't care for night life. I have my books. Sometimes I read all night ! "I mean to travel. After I sell this place and before I build my new home, I'm going to travel around the world, spend a year or two at it." Was Jack's father still alive? Yes, he was alive. He had been so jealous of Jack's mother's love for her children. Maybe a little jealous, too, of the way in which Jack had helped support the family. "But he wrote me not long ago," said Jack. "He wrote that he understood. Isn't that wonderful?" Well, Jack's father would have something fine about him, one thought. In spite of Jack's brave words and his brave smile, I think there is still a great loneliness in his soul. Will Jack ever marry? I don't think so. He has still his invalid brother to care for. "One sees too much unhappiness," he said. BATHASWEET cMake your ^ath a beauty Treatment TRY IT FREE There was a time when a bath was just a bath. Now it is much more. Just a sprinkle of Bathasweet and your daily tubbing becomes a veritable beauty treatment. Not only is the water made fragrant as a flower garden, but it gains a delightful softness. It washes deep into the pores, dissolves the secretions of the skin and leaves about you an indefinable, almost scentless fragrance that lingers all day long. Your skin is stimulated to more radiant health; many blemishes disappear; and an air of springtime daintiness becomes an inseparable part of your personality. 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