Motography (Jan-Jun 1913)

January 18, 1913. MOTOGRAPHY 55 Sans Grease Paint and Wig By Mabel Condon Ruth Stonehouse. THAT "Life is not a little bundle of big things but a big bundle of little things," is Ruth Stonehouse's motto, and she loves it because it exactly fits her ambition. "Career?" There was disdain in the voice of Miss Ruth as she pronounced the word. "Fame?" How dared such an undesirable quantity intrude itself into her thoughts ! No, her ambition is even bigger. It is to marry and keep house. "A great many more women accomplish being actresses, musicians, or artists, than just being women," declared Miss Ruth with energy, as she rolled her handkerchief into a ball, then rolled the ball between her palms and looked annihilation at the coverless ink-stand and thousands of typewritten papers on the desk in front of us. For we had retired to a deserted corner of the publicity man's office, out at the Argyle studio of the Essanay plant, as there were "ten million" girls in the co-operative dressing-room down-stairs, so Miss Ruth said, and I for one, was glad to escape getting into such a jam; so soon after Christmas, too. "More than anything else in the world, I want to be a true woman," went on Miss Ruth when the ink-well and papers had effaced themselves from her memory, because she wasn't looking at them, and the typewriter behind us clicked out convincing evidence of a busy existence. "I'm queer, I guess, because I don't yearn for a career or for fame. But there is no peace in going after either. You're always trying to beat the other person to it and, after all, you're not satisfied. I like peace ; peace of mind above all things, for I have to please myself with what I'm doing, or I'm miserable. "Take my work, for instance. I got my start in pictures through Gertrude Spoor. She's the dearest girl ! We went to school together and Mrs. Spoor used to take me home in her car with Gertrude. When I was ready to leave school, I was in a dilemma about what I was going to do after I did leave. I wanted to do something but didn't know what ; you know how that question worries girls ! "Well, I went ahead and composed a dance called 'The Moods of Women,' depicting caprice, love and joy, which I practiced in a filmy costume which I made myself, and then changed to a cerise drape and danced hate, grief and passion. But I had nobody to book me and no idea of how to have it done; and one day I told Mrs. Spoor about it. She and Gertrude interested Mr. Spoor in me and he sent for me one day and offered me a chance in picture work, but said I would have to make good by myself and not to expect any help from him. "So I started; that was a year ago. For the first eight months, I was beautifully discouraged and cried nearly every night. But I studied during those eight months; I studied everything and everybody connected with motion-picture acting and continued doing the little parts that came my way. I had lots of parts to take, that wasn't the trouble, but I never seemed to be getting anywhere. "Then, last summer, I went away with the company and when I came back I was resolved I was going to do something big. I was mad clear through and when the role of 'Sunshine' was given me, I went into it with all my energy ; and I discovered that my eight months of study had not been for nothing. I was perfectly happy with the success of 'Sunshine.' After that leads came my way in abundance. "It's splendid, doing whatever you're at, well," continued Miss Ruth as she tucked a stray corner of her handkerchief back into the wad in her palm and nodded, with a smile, to a stout gentleman with gray hair and a roll of typed scenarios, who was carefully making his way toward us through the row of desks and chairs intervening. "Sorry to disturb you, ladies, but I need this desk for a few minutes," apologized the stout gentleman, and we said "certainly" and moved to the next desk and Miss Ruth found an extra chair, which she had to bargain for, though, with Don Meaney. Meanwhile I admired her clear hazel eyes, her soft, wavy hair of the color that escapes being golden and yet isn't brown and that goes so well with rich amber and shades a lovely, lovely complexion that the owner cares for by leading a peaceable, exciteless existence and avoiding late hours and heavy foods. Also, I admired her selection of a violet and rose corsage, of the variety New York girls are affecting, entirely, this winter. By that time Mr. Meaney had waived all repartee 4fftL \^% ■£&£ • h*-', . One of 'Em is Ruth Stonehouse; the Other is Her Sister Hazel, About 17 Years Ago. Guess Which. honors in favor of Miss Ruth and very humbly placed the disputed chair and retired as gracefully as a defeated man ever can retire. We started in at Denver, then, which I knew to be Miss Ruth's birthplace, and where her father conducts a Stonehouse Enameled Steel Mine Signal Company, and reads every press notice given his "little girl," of whom he is justly proud. "I lived in the mining camps throughout Colorado until I was seven years old," reminisced the "Colorado Girl," as Miss Stonehouse is called in the west. "Then we moved to Arizona where we lived on a ranch for five