Movie Pictorial (May 1915)

WWWAVAVA^VAV.WWW $ ' ^ -'' ^WWJ'^AVAVAVA'WAV.V.'WAV ( MOVIE PICTORIAL BELOW THE RIO GRANDE F WE fail to have a man at Chihua- hua, ready to accompany the army on the advance to Torreon,” said James Gardiner, president of the Federal Film Company, “we shall be losers to the extent of our ten-thousand-dollar forfeit and our war film contract becomes void.” Telegrams had been flashed to the cardinal points of the compass, and also to the divergent angles between those points, in their mad haste to secure Denman—the great Denman — the Denman who had secured motion pictures of actual warfare in the Balkans while the other cinematographers were unable to get within hailing distance of the battles. “If we don’t get Denman!” the chief executive again moaned—and at this instant a long delayed wire was delivered from a point far down on the Mexican coast. It ran: “Denman securing films of sea-elephants at Guadalupe island off coast Mexico. Expected at San Pedro tonight.” Every mother’s son in the offices of the aggressive film organization breathed a deep sigh of relief. Denman had been located! All of this tenseness was due to the fact that a new camera—a crank- less camera—had been brought into existence. It was as great an advance in the art of photography over the old cinematograph as the motion picture camera had been over the still camera. But for all that, it required bravery and that intuitive cunning that Denman alone seemed to possess. Although John Denman was still under thirty years of age, he had been in all parts of the world, including those known and charted, and those unknown and uncharted. Upon receipt of Gardiner’s earnest request with information that the camera, with ample film, awaited Denman’s call in El Paso, that gen- tleman sensed the spirit of adventure that called anew from the domain where Villa fought sturdily for Mexican liberty and Mexican rights. Three days later, John Denman idled on the observation platform as the Atlantic express eased into the El Paso station. His six feet of sinew and daring, his magnetic style and his broad shoulders, indicated little of the real purpose back of this noted film rover. But the moment the air had been released, and the passengers began to shuffle out stiffly and awkwardly after their long ride, Denman vaulted the rail- ing of the observation car, and ahead of all the rest, beckoned the first taxi and was soon at the express office in possession of the new treasure, the real secret of which had been kept from him. He could not restrain an exclamation of surprise as he lifted the camera from its case. For it was altogether different from any machine he had yet used. In shape it was about the same as the regulation cam- era, except that it was longer. The size was about fourteen inches high, four inches wide and possibly twenty- two inches long. But what caused Den- man’s surprise was not so much the size, but the fact that the camera was covered by a thin layer of manganese steel; only By F. McGrew Willis HERBERT J IVsy- * the lens and the finder had been left exposed. And there was no place for a crank! Denman hurriedly opened the camera and found that it had been made longer to allow for the insertion of a small storage battery, and a tiny motor which took the place of the crank. Small wires about ten feet long were connected with these, thus enabling the opera- tor to stand at this distance from the machine and operate it. Some of the space was to allow room for a double sized roll of film contain- ing about six hundred feet, making a change of film unnecessary for the ordinary occasion. He unpacked the tripod and found that instead of the wooden one always in use, small steel rods the size of a lead pencil had replaced it. Denman was delighted, and gave vent to a low whistle of pure joy. “A new invention! A crankless camera!” He could not conceal his professional pride in the achievement. Here certainly was the ideal camera for taking war scenes. The danger of the camera being struck by a stray bullet, splintering the machine and spoiling the film already taken, was reduced to almost nothing. Only deliberate design on the part of some marksman could wreck it. In Tripoli, Denman had been with the Italian army and had had the use of one of the armored automobiles used in making attacks on the tribesmen. But in the Balkans his camera had been hit several times by spent bullets, although no great damage was done. He resolved to leave at once for Chihuahua, and after a light lunch at the hotel dining room, he boarded a street car and crossed the Rio Grande to Juarez. Already he saw the havoc and desolation of war. Already he foresaw the terrible toll that war exacts from those in its ruthless way. He was going into a country torn with strife and laid desolate by its own people. A harder fate had befallen the town than if it had been sacked by its worst enemy. He made his way up streets lined by soldiers, who glanced at him suspiciously as he went past. Some were in uniform, but the majority were dirty and filthy beyond description. He was glad at last when he arrived at the low adobe building pro- claiming itself headquarters of the army. His papers were ready and he was given a pass good for transportation on a troop train leaving in the evening for the south. As he came out of the building he ran square into Claybourne, who was just on the point of entering. The surprise was mutual. shouted Denman, grasping the other’s soul!” exclaimed the one addressed. “Denman!” “No other,” laughed Denman, squeezing the welcome hand. He added: "What are you doing so far from Fleet street'?” “Thought there would be a little fighting over here and prevailed upon the boss to send me,” answered the other,, as he pulled Denman out of the doorway to make room for several wait- ing to enter. “I wish I was back in old fog- i 5