Picture-Play Magazine (Jul - Dec 1929)

22 Tne Stars5 Secret Code It consists of lending a helping hand to those less fortunate, and never saying anything about it, but it never takes the form of charity. This intensely human story reveals the least-known side of Hollywood. By Helen Louise Walker Illustrations by Lui Trugo ONE of the nicest — and least publicized — traits of this fantastic film colony is its habit of taking care of its own people. The traditional, generous open-handedness of the stage is amplified here to extend to all branches of the industry. The custom cannot, by any stretch of language, be called charity. It is a sort of code of give and take — a business of the people who have jobs looking out for those who haven't. And it is a pleasant thing to see. It is one of the reasons, I believe, why people do not, as a rule, get very rich in pictures, even when they make large salaries over long periods. Because the moment any one begins drawing any sort of salary he is automatically called upon to look after one or several without work. While the salaries in pictures are large, the jobs are frightfully uncertain, and nearly every one who is successful now can remember times when he was broke and possibly hungry. In all likelihood, some friend or mere acquaintance helped him to tide over until his break came, and now he feels an obligation to do the same for some one else. There is an unwritten and unspoken rule that no one ever denies the possibility of any one's achieving success. If you are down, the colony takes it for granted that it is only temporary, and no matter how deeply your talents are hidden, your friends will give you credit for having some. No one ever suggests that you abandon your dream of acting or writing or directing, and go and get yourself a job with a wholesale-grocery concern. They can understand your sweeping out studios for a time, but not your working in a filling station. Stars, of course, or other members of the really high-salaried groups, always have a startling number of relatives to support. It is perfectly amazing how few actors have even a second cousin once removed who is able to pay his own shoe bills. But that is not the thing I mean. It is the aid given to casual acquaintances which is surprising. I know a writer and his wife, for instance, who set aside a certain portion of his distinctly fluctuating income each year for these purposes. They have a comfortable establishment, and there is a small house at the back of their grounds which they lend to acquaintances who are unable, for one reason or another, to pay rent. With this goes light, heat, milk, and laundry, to say nothing of loans of actual cash for emergencies. The "guest house," I may add, is seldom vacant ! For some weeks last winter they had, as their guest, a girl who had once been of some importance in pictures, but who had slipped from her position because of ill health. She had undergone a serious operation and was completely helpless for a month or more, requiring constant attention of the most careful sort, night and day. She got it — along with sunshine, special food and freedom from financial worry and, at last, assistance in finding another position when she was on her feet again. Only a few days ago I heard a chap ask a friend for money to make the payment on his typewriter, so that lie might finish a story which he hoped to sell to a studio. Me was behind on his installments, and feared that the typewriter company would snatch the machine away from him before the opus was finished. Yet this same man had been keeping another chap for several days who, he said, was worse off than himself, having no money, no food, and no place to sleep! A month from now both these men may be drawing hundreds of dollars a week somewhere — and spending a goodly portion of it to help some one else. They have both been in such positions before. Not only money, but time — which is often less plentiful— is given where it is needed, in the same casual fashion. Carl Laemmle, Jr., that youthful and ever-sobusy executive, left the studio every afternoon for weeks to spend an hour or so with a prop boy who was his friend and who was in the hospital seriously ill. Junior will probably be annoyed with me for telling this, but I think he is annoyed with me, anyhow, for a better reason People actually quarrel over the privilege of looking after the needy.