Photoplay (Apr - Sep 1918)

The Rise of Elsie Ferguson 43 us," she observed. "The interviewers put words into our mouths, and then if we answer back or defend ourselves they say, 'Bad tempered, unethical,' and if we remain silent they say, 'Stupid,' all of which is no doubt true," and Miss Ferguson laughed that indifferent little laugh of hers which makes one feel somehow as though he were the culprit. "But I say every day," she went on more seriously, " 'Thank God I am in motion pictures!' for this is a most disastrous season for theatres, actors and actresses. At the first intimation that our nation must economize the people in a body deserted the theatres and the road companies cannot make enough to pay their fares, as they are forced to close. And what is the effect on motion pictures? Why all of the people who feel that they cannot afford to go to the theatres turn naturally to the motion picture nouses and so the silver lining is right on the outside for the motion picture producers. "And the studio, too, is a haven of rest, even though it be, like to-day, rather cold comfort. I could not have gone on any longer in the spoken drama. I was tired — oh! so tired — physically and mentally; but now I am growing stronger each day, and I am beginning to look at plays again. I hope of course to go back, but I never shall desert the silent drama and I never shall play again until I find a play which suits me exactly. Behind all the camouflage with which publicity men disguise the real facts about stars, the facts will sometimes stick out. The one about Miss Ferguson which is of greatest importance is that it is obvious she actually does love her art, because she doesn't have to work if she doesn't want to. Her marriage a year ago to Thomas B. Elsie Ferguson and Maurice Tourneur driving an Algerian tram-car Note their Arabian steed. Clark, Jr., vice president of the Harriman National Bank, was one of the social events of the New York season. Her husband is interested in her work, though he is never to be found at the studio, and he has never had his picture taken with his wife, or any other way that can be discovered. If I were a man and married to Elsie Ferguson I think I would want to advertise the fact in every possible way. For Miss Ferguson is always superb, always the aristocrat, almost— may I say it in the complimentary sense? — always on display. A point which is best illustrated by an incident: It was morning and the studio was very, very cold, as we have said, and Miss Ferguson's gown was not designed to protect its wearer from icy blasts. Everyone was tired and the scene had been done over and over, and yet when the word came to go over the top, Miss Ferguson instantly became Lily in "The Song of Songs." She staggered across the room and then with the tears streaming down her cheeks she threw herself into the arms of her leading man, crying, "Steve, Steve, kiss me and take me home," and as he threw her off she reeled, and would have fallen if he had not caught her. And then we knew why Miss Ferguson's work is what it is. She convinces her audiences because she has first convinced herself. Away from the stage she seems rather cold, indifferent, almost unhappy and sometimes rather unreal. But with the turn of the camera or the rise of the curtain she lives and breathes radiantly. Paradoxical as it sounds, Elsie Ferguson is natural only when she is acting.