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"Lasky Lane," the dressing-room street in the Lasky studio yard.
To take our readers behind the scenes, into the studios of the large film companies, take them where the big pictures are made, let them watch the players at work, and introduce them to the famous actors and actresses— these are the purposes of this series of articles, of which this, the Lasky studio, is the second. Each article will be individual, ond up to date — a single trip to the studio which is its subject. The articles will appear in every issue, until all the big studios throughout the country have been dealt with. — Editor's Note.
HOLLYWOOD used to be a quiet, homy, conservative little suburb of Los Angeles, about half an hour out by electric cars. But that was before the residents looked out of their windows upon strange and devious things — in other words, before the Jesse L. Lasky Feature Play Company literally took possession of the town.
"Alas for Hollywood !" said one resident whom I met upon my arrival. "To the north, I see an automobile, with two bears in the tonneau, dashing by. To the east, I see another automobile is scurrying past, loaded up with pretty girls in Fiji Island scantiness of attire, perhaps, rings on their noses and in their ears. I hurry to my only remaining window, which overlooks my garden, where roses and orange trees mingle their sweet breath. There, I see
some one negotiating with a member of the family to use the garden as a setting for a scene. And I know, without looking out on the veranda, that I will find a group waiting the verdict, some of whom will have on decollete gowns, and others wearing full evening swallow-tail coats and yellow shirts. I am equally sure that some one of the party will be the particular friend of my charming neighbor next door, and of course I'll never refuse. It is inevitable. Hollywood, the peaceful, has become but a memory, and we live in a strange world !"
Armed with this information, and prepared for any uncanny thing which might happen, I started along a beautiful avenue of pepper trees that had dropped its red berries for so many years over the staid heads of Holly