Pictures and the Picturegoer (October 1915 - March 1916)

PICJ'UR£5 Aiw .... PICTL'FLEGOER IZQ B ENDING Dec. 25, 1915 JUST ABOUT MYSELF By J. WARREN KERRIGAN 1WAS born in the town of Louisville, Kentucky. To the best of my 1 lection that peaceful settlement took my advent as a matter of course. I find comfori in the reflection that I had been preceded by seven boys and a girl. I'or I afterwards learned I hid arrived in pairs t he remaining half of the episode being a male! It was shortly after our arrival that the various members of our family commenced to concern themselves with our future. On this point their tastes were at variance. It was my mother's fond hope that I should some day grace tie ministry. My father; who occupied a lucrative position in a large warehouse, resolved that ! shonld follow7 in his footsteps. " During toy early childhood we removed from Louisville to New Albany, a small town where my twin brother, Wallace, and myself attended school for the first time. Because we were the youngest we were the most tenderly cared for. In more ways than one I have cause to he thankful for this, for our home lives were closely united. The stage, by which 1 mean both the legitimate drama and pictures, is the most exacting of all 'professions, and the one in which the price (if dissipation is the inevitable ruination of a man or woman. My first stage experience was under the direction of Clay Clement, my brother-in-law. The play was Sum Squston. in which I was given the juvenile lead. Being under the protecting wing <>f Kathleen, my sister (for I was hardly eighteen) who played lead in the performance. I began to show signs of intelligence in the work. The season after this successful run I played in the Spooner Stock Company in New York, and later juvenile lead in Brown ofllarrard, Brady's production of The Master Key, and featured in Shubert's success. The Road tu Yesterday, How I came into Pictures. When we were playing in the lastnamed piece there came 10 me the first intimation that I would some day leave the stage for pictures. A member of the Essanay Company had seen my performance and after speaking of the matter to my manager, he made me a flattering offer to join his company. I visited the studio next day, and before leaving signed a contract for two years. The principal inducement was that 1 could then look after my dear mother, who at that time was in poor health. Long -before I became identified with them my interest in motion-pictures '• Jack " \Y. KsBJua \\ wiiii his 1 1 a m 1 « ox rut-: i:n:i. at Tahob (Calif bnia), " The I.akk OP THE Skt.'! a 1 ounted almost to f scioation. I I to the work ike a duck t<> water. I started out by drawing a la'e salary, it has increased from time t<, time. Upon the organisation of the American Company. 1 was the first meml er to be engaged and at a salary I could refuse. For a period of three years 1 jlayed lead in every picture at the 1 of two a week, which that company ; duced, 1 was drawn to the Universal Company on account of bigger indi meuts in every direction. The Universal offers a broad field for an actor'. 1 production of x and Delilah, in which -I was favoured with the Samson, is one of the largest and m spectacular _ pictures ever produced. Such pictures as !'■'., Magic SI . /> Inheritance, The Rfsi 5 '.and ff 0' the Bogs have furnished opportnnil for original and effective work. Motion-picture work requires a certain numl erof natural qualifications that all people do not possess. It requires a strong physique, for there is no calling that taxes physical endurance so much as the moving-picture camera. One day you may be called to jump a half-tan broncho over a 1 n't. cliff, and the next you may be ordered to swim through^ howling sui'f to shore from a sinking 1. One must drive a six-horse mailcoach at gallop speed over a mountain road if the scenario calls for it. and if one doesn't happen to know how to drive six horses one can take a day off to learn. We depend upon the sunshine for taking pictures in California, and as the sun is shining 1 am working. 1 have the rainy days to myself. , aid t!i days I spend at home— 1 dacesaj happy a borne as you'll find in Hollywood, because my m tht r. my sister Kathleen, my brother Wallace, and myself, all of us bosom pals, live together i a our bungalow. The Letters I receive. Now about my mail-bag. For.thei four or five years 1 have received from forty to seveqty-ilve letters a day. and I answer as many a< my limit d leisure permits. A correspondence which Ihrfvc d the most highlv of all and wu has embodied a world of pathos culminated with the following word*. ] have never heard from the writer since and am forced to believe that she is dead : "Dear Mr. Kerrigan I hope you will excuse me for taking the li erty writing you again; but I am sending back to you your picture. which you me last fall 1 said 1 would not take all the money in the state for it. but at i