Picture Play Magazine (Sep 1925 - Feb 1926)

A Unique Figure in Pictures 25 sort of path, with a few knolls and an occasional valley. But it's a very lonely path because it isn't well traveled. She is a unique figure in pictures. Unique in that, beyond the day of the personality star, she maintained her stardom, if her continued presentation in Vitagraph program films could be so termed. In that, though a star, she lived a life of total isolation from Hollywood. And thirdly, and to me the most vital factor concerning her because it is likely to be influential upon her future and because it is so unusual, in that she built up one of the largest fan folio wings of any person on the screen — by writing letters. Not circumstances, nor wise management, nor exceptional ability, nor publicity, none of the methods used to keep a player before the public, but merely a girl's loneliness and her love of letter writing, are responsible for the warm place which Alice Calhoun occupies in the hearts of her fans. The letters that I receive and those sent to PicturePlay speak of that affection in no uncertain terms. Her fans rebel that she isn't seen to better advantage. They do not understand the peculiar conditions that she has faced. All they know is that they love her and are hurt that she is not given more attention. The line that recurs most often is this: "I had a letter from Alice to-day," adding that Alice had written about her new dress, or the three black cats that are her pets, or how she was having her car overhauled, or that she had a new candy recipe. In short, those letters, written in her own hand, were filled with the little things which make up the average girl's unimportant life. They contained a few references to her work, and such comments upon Hollywood as a visitor might write home. That intrigued me. While many players are conscientious in regard to having their fan mail taken care of by secretaries, Alice is the only one I have ever found who delights in answering letters personally. One week her mail bag brought her thirty-seven hundred letters. I couldn't understand at first, in view of her relatively inconspicuous place on the screen, the reason for this loyalty to her. Not until she said, "I love to write letters. I go out so little, and there isn't much else to do in the evenings, and I've made so many wonderful friends that way." Then I began to see a glimmer of light. No labor of duty, her fan mail. It was a lonely girl's one road of contact with the world. You fans who have been so faithful to her, you have done her a very great favor in letting her write to you. At least, that is how she looks at it. Perhaps this intimacy has shattered the illusion which most actors claim must be maintained in their public relations ; but it has brought Alice the greater good of a deep affection. To understand her present position, it is necessary to touch briefly upon happenings that all good Alice Calhoun fans have pasted in their scrapbooks or engraved upon their memories. Seven years ago a little pig-tailed, gingham-clad Ohio girl of thirteen arrived in New York, with her mother. By chance — while they were renting an apartment— a director saw her and was interested in her movie possibilities. For a year she did extra work at the Eastern studios. A contract to play leads for Vitagraph at forty dollars a week was her first satis faction, and it became infinitely more than that when a short time later she was promoted to stardom. At that time Vitagraph had stars far more beautiful and glamorous, of tried and proven public appeal — Corinne Griffith, Alice Joyce, and others. The star system then was on the ascendency. And jealousy over the new twinkler was made manifest in numerous ways. The youngster of fourteen, who lived away uptown and, took the subway to the studio each morning, was snubbed and ignored as being of no consequence. But she must have had something beside the earnestness with which she worked. For envy often is a tacit admission of a possible rivalry. Once the queen of the lot sailed into the manager's office, and delivered an oratorical flow to the effect that Alice wasn't exceptionally pretty, couldn't act, had no personality or any other attributes which would make her worthy of the spotlight. "So?" The manager chewed his cigar, and chuckled, "I was a little uncertain before, but now I'm darned sure. If she's got enough to worry you, she's star material." "At that time I was unhappy over the attitude that I encountered at the studio," Alice speaks of those days with the tolerance that the years since, bringing a different but equally hard struggle, have developed in her. "I did so want to make good, and to have people like me. It hurt, that I didn't have the qualities to make friends-. But now I can see that their jealousy really did me a lot of good. It not only boosted my stock with the officials, but it helped me in other ways. "I couldn't afford to run with the crowd that spent money, and besides, I wasn't invited to parties. I felt awfully left out of things. And that condition continued after I came to Hollywood. But it saved my youth and kept me from possibly getting into bad company and making a mess of my life, as so many other girls of the movies have done." Three years ago she was sent to the West Coast. The Vitagraph studio is not located in Hollywood proper, and a home was bought which would be convenient to her work. It isn't a movie star's home. It's a small, white frame bungalow all cluttered up with the things that a family accumulates. It is such a tiny house, and their needs are so few and so simple, that they do not even keep a maid. Since my first meeting with her, I have dropped in a number of times unexpectedly, when I thought that Alice would be at home. I was rather curious to test out my impression of her genuineness, for Hollywood, with its many artificialities, does breed skepticism. Invariably I found her either writing letters or reading a new novel or helping her mother. That is her life, aside from her work, with an occasional movie or theater party. She has a few boy friends whom her mother approves — not of the picture crowd — but has never had a "beau." Her life has been more isolated than that of any girl connected with the movies even in a capacity much less important than that she occupied as a star of program pictures. A luncheon at the Montmartre or a walk down the Boulevard is a treat. As she says : "It's loads of fun. I feel like a tourist, having the stars pointed out to me. I read the papers and keep up with what is doing at the other studios, but I seldom go visiting." [Continued on page 105] ALICE CALHOUN IS UNIQUE IN PICTURES BECAUSE— Though a star, she has lived a life of total isolation from Holly= wood. A walk down Hollywood Boulevard is a treat to her. She has built up one of the largest followings in pictures prin= cipally because she delighted to write, in her own hand, friendly, chatty letters to her fans. Her secretary is her chum. She wouldn't think of going anywhere without her. In a world of smartness and glamour, Alice is frankly an aver= age girl, with her naturalness un= tarnished and her freshness un= soiled.