Paramount Pep-O-Grams (1927)

Page Six P E P-O-G RAMS BETWEEN YOU AND ME ANI) THE PARAMOUNT CLOCK The Sort of Paragraphs that Most Folks Like to Read Marion Hecht, the Hundred Percenter secretary to Leon Bamberger, is carrying a sparkling solitaire on the third finger of her left hand. So illuminating is it that we heard someone call it The Paramount Light, Jr. The Purchasing Department receives many odd requests, but the monthly award of the fur-lined magnascope goes to the Rialto Theatre for their requisition of ten tons of coal to be delivered to the Projection Booth. Our correspondent hazards the guess that they were preparing for a showing of “Hot Papa,” a Paramount-Christie Comedy. Angels in heaven are not the only fluteplayers: Bill Gold of the 12th floor is a flautist, but a correspondent states that he lacks the nerve to play in the Pep Club Orchestra. Ce n’est pas vrai, Bill — Huh? DOWN TO EARTH AGAIN. That sly old boid, Mr. Stork, has been volplaning down to earth again. A note tells of the arrival of one of his passengers — Douglas Scott Campbell — on October 16th last. Douglas Scott, who cannot yet state that “If it’s a Paramount picture, it’s the best show in town,” nevertheless gets very close to saying “goo-glub” when shown his father, who happens to be none other than Victor S. Campbell, of the Booking Department. It is right and proper to say, too, that Mrs. Campbell is also “doing fine.” DINGDONG — T H E N PENNSYLVANIA. The air was very orange-blossomy for Miss Frieda Weissman, of the Editorial Department, on October 8th last, when she became Mrs. Alfred W. Scheele. The honeymoon was spent in Pennsylvania, where all the stars are Paramount stars — and all the moons are honeymoons. CORRECTION. Last issue, in the letter of thanks printed over the signature of Percy Lockwood, the name of Miss Margaret Russell was given as Miss Lillian Russell. It is presumed that either Mr. Lockwood, the printer, the proof-reader, the linotyper or even the editor must have had a great affection for the greatest of all American actresses. We assure you, therefore, that Miss Margaret Russell’s is the name which should have appeared. HELLO, RANDY! We are glad to have with us for a few weeks one of our members who might easily style himself a native of Holly York and New Wood, because the bulk of his time is spent between the Home Office and the West Coast Studios. He is Randolph Rogers, private secretary to Jesse L. Lasky, vice president in charge of production. Ask Randy which is the greater and finer street — Broadway or Hollywood Jack the Count Keeper In the last issue of Pep-O-Grams we introduced Jack Roper only in type, principally because his modesty had to be overcome before he could be induced to face the camera. Now we have his picture for all time. Apart from the modesty mentioned, we give Jack space here to again remind you of the very splendid work he did as Chairman of the Tellers and Watchers Committee during the recent Club Elections. WORDS BY MEL— ENJOYMENT BY ALL With Melville A. Shauer as Toastmaster at the Dinner Dance you’ve read so much about in this issue, it was as certain as dark following dusk that he would spring something or other as original as next year’s Ad Sales. This much was sensed by the Committee of Arrangements; so they forthwith planted one of the slimmer members on the Speakers’ table, disguised as a radio microphone. He of course didn’t have much to eat, but he did manage to secure the original manuscript of Mel’s famous twelveline verse which caused so much genuine fun. Mel of course missed it, but never suspected the microphone, though he did promise a dire and lingering end for the culprit. However, Mel is now in Europe, proving to the Francs that they cannot be Louises unless they transpose the last two letters of the lira — so we’ll show how brave we are by printing the verse. Lots of eating, lots of rest, Ev’ry one a tax-free guest. Laughter, joy arc running loose — — What the deuce! While the music’s being played There are movies being made: Then the waiters serve the chickens — — What the dickens! Soon dessert is on the line, Everything is going fine; Then the Toastmaster rings the bell — ■ — What the hell! Boulevard — and we wager that you will receive a reply that will be a model of diplomacy and tact, and one which will please both New Yorkers and Hollywoodians.