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Hollywood's Fourth Dimension
The least-known side of the movie colony has its stars whose talents are given to the stars you know, and whose brilliant personalities you should know.
By Alice Mo Williamson
IF any one had told me that I should discover a new, important and exciting side of Hollywood on my seventh visit there, I wouldn't have minded betting a thousand dollars that there wasn't a bit of Hollywood I hadn't seen.
Well, it's lucky for me that I didn't bet. I should have lost.
There is another side of Hollywood — a sort of Hollywood sky, sparkling with brilliant stars. They are not stars of the movies. They are — no, they are not in the talkies, nor
even
the singies. All the same, the movies and talkies and singies would miss these particular stars.
In trying to find the right title for this little — shall I call it a treatise, or sketch, or article ? — I considered several.
"Brilliant Boys in the Background" was one idea that occurred to me. But then I remembered that there were girls also, and besides it isn't a background. In fact, it's prominently a foreground. The tourists who visit Hollywood, however, even those privileged to see the studios, may pass through without seeing, as it were, the fourth dimension.
There ! I wonder if that is a good title? "Hollywood's Fourth Dimension."
Jetta Goudal sponsors "The Crow's Nest," the antique shop of Casey Roberts.
Earl Luick designs settings and costumes for the prologues and revues at the Warner Theater in Hollywood.
Of course the screen stars know "the fourth dimension stars, but it never occurs to them to hand on the information. Or perhaps they want to keep it secret.
When the movie stars are not movie-ing, they are often to be found in the fourth dimension themselves, especially in the evening — late in the evening, or what / would call late; but no hour is late in Hollywood.
Perhaps I may as well tell how it happened that I, though a stranger, penetrated into the fourth dimension.
I don't deserve the credit for discovering it on my own initiative. For a stranger to discover it would be impossible, without the password, or some equivalent. I had to be introduced by one in the know.
Lyrics for the making of a musical comedy of my little story, "Bill the Sheik," had been written in London by Sydney Boyle Lawrence, a newspaper editor, whose "Decameron Nights" was a huge stage success. But there was no music for the Sheik, and a man in Hollywood who has the entree to the fourth dimension, suggested that "Bruz" Fletcher might consent to write the music if he liked the book.
Who wouldn't be intrigued by the name of Bruz ?
I Sherlocked that its owner, as a little boy, had been a member of an affectionate family who shortened "Brother" into "Bruz," and it turned out that I'd deduced the truth.
"Bill" was sent to Bruz. Bruz liked "Bill," and said he would set him to music; whereupon I was invited to one of the leading bungalows in the fourth dimension, the bungalow belonging to Bruz Fletcher and Casey Roberts.
I'd been" to the bungalows and apartments and Beverly Hills and Santa Monica villas of various stars, but there's something special about this bungalow and the company that assembles there at evening.
Everybody, except myself, knows everybody else. There are plenty of divans and big armchairs, but Bruz is at the