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Eddie Cantor is strictly a family man, and who could doubt the substantial evidence offered by his daughters, Marjorie,
Natalie, Edna and Marilyn?
His Wife Is His Salesman
Eddie Cantor used to carry -her schoolbooks, but now she carries the check book of a millionaire comedian.
By Helen Louise Walker
EDDIE CANTOR, I believe, is destined to be one of the important comedians of the screen. And this in spite of his temporary return to the "Follies."
He knows instinctively what is funny. He is one of the keenest showmen in this country. He has a tremendous interest in the ps3'chology of the great majority— the customers, as he calls them. He is a capable actor and a master of pantomime.
He has, moreover, that quality of wistfulness which Chaplin and Langdon have — and which Lloyd and Keaton lack. The knack of portraying the pathetic bewilderment of the misfit soul, the lonelv, submerged individual who somehow never knows what it's all about, and whose confusion at life and circumstances has a whimsical pathos all its own.
When I first talked to him, a year ago, he was working in his first motion picture. He seemed nervous and a bit ill at ease.
"There is so much for me to learn," he told me. "This business is so different from the business of the stage. When I was working in 'Kid Boots,' on the stage, I learned a lot about the show business. I used to stand in the lobby of the theater in the evening before the show, and watch the people.
"I wanted to know what kind of people came to see 'Kid Boots.' I wanted to know who sat in the boxes — and why. I wanted to know who sat in the balconies and why they bought the cheaper seats. T wanted to know what the ushers thought of the show — that is always a valuable indication, you know. I wanted to
know what every usher and every stage hand was paid. I wanted to know everything about everything.
"I wanted to learn about this business in the same way. But it is harder. The customers are so scattered, and there are so many more of them. I want to know about distribution and exploitation and box-office receipts. It's going to take a long time."
When I next saw him, during the making of "Special Delivery," undoubtedly Eddie had learned ! He was telling his director what to do. "I want to take that shot again. I've thought of some new business !"
The scene was one in which he appears in the postmaster's office in a uniform which has obviously been made for a much larger man, pleased all to pieces with himself and his new outfit. The postmaster punctures his elation by telling him with large contempt, "You look like a fish ! Get out !"
Eddie wilts before your eyes, becoming, apparently, at least three sizes smaller, and goes out dejectedly.
The orchestra assisted him in his change of mood by going from jazz to some pathetic air. When they were ready to shoot again, Eddie still looked forlorn.
Turning to the musicians, he asked for some gay music. He listened for a moment and then executed four or five steps of a dance which sent the people on the set into howls of laughter.
".Shoot quickly!" he yelled, pausing in his gyrations and striking an absurdly triumphant pose.
The shot was made, and then Eddie and I went to Aladame Helene's for lunch.
Continued on page 112