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Vol. IX, No. 7
my way of thinking, the best in their line. Brinsley Shaw, I believe to be the best heavy man in pictures and Mary Pickford puts more personality into her work than anyone I ever saw in films. Miriam Nesbit and Vivian Prescott are also favorites of mine.
"There is nobody in comedy, however, who can come up to Costello in drama; I see a great opening for a comedian in pictures."
And then I asked a question I wished afterward I hadn't asked. It was about Mr. Anderson's bungalow, where I had pictured him spending thoughtful evenings beside a log fire, when the weather made log fires desirable, which fire I imagined being shared by a sleek, lanky hound, or maybe a collie, stretched out beside the Anderson morris-chair, as per art-store pictures recommended for the home library, where a steam radiator takes the place of a log fire and you'd find your lease cancelled if a hound or a collie was ever known to invade your flat.
Anyhow, the bungalow question was put, and was promptly laughed to death. I explained the why of its short and humble existence, and Mr. Anderson laughed some more at the thought of his living away "from everything," as he put it, and explained that he "likes the white lights" too well.
So there he is this minute, I guess, "alone in a crowd" as he says he likes to be, with the lights and people giving him thought for new scenarios and the people who flock to picture shows imagining their "Broncho" hero sleeping the sleep of the just, on some lone prairie with a nice soft saddle for a pillow and his
famous spotted horse standing around doing picket duty, or some such pathetic scene.
I gathered my things up, excepting my veil-pin which slid into the waste-paper basket — and was ready to go, when Mr. Spoor came in and wanted to know if Mr. Anderson wasn't going down-town pretty soon and Mr. Anderson said he was, and invited me to make the loop trip in the SpoorAnderson auto.
But I had to see the somebody else I had originally gone to the studio to see, so slipped away and left the gentlemen to make their choice of the three wooley overcoats, a derby, a cap and a crusher, to wear on their windy trip through Evanston, and as they started, Mr. Anderson lit a cigar.
Film Has Strong Climax
Whose life should be dearer to a father — that of his wife or that of his child— is the question raised by the film "For His Child's Sake," the Lubin release of April 8th. In the climax of this picture the wife is imprisoned in a steel trap in a lonely forest, while the child is locked in a closet of a burning cabin, and the husband and father has to choose between saving the one or the other. Shall it be the wife or the baby? The story leads steadily up to the climax and doubtless the audience will be all on edge when the decision is finally made.
The story is by Shannon Fife and was produced by L. B. Carlton. The three leads in the production are Jack Standing, Isabelle Lamon and Doc Travers.
Scene from Lubin's "Women of the Desert.'