Picture Play Magazine (Mar-Jul 1929)

18 Pit)? tke Poor Interviewer I defy Mr. ridicule any Virginia Bradford married Cedric Belfrage, whose cynical interviews have caused upheavals in Hollywood. More wonderment came to Hollywood when, a few months ago, la Bradford's own "true confessions" appeared in one of the fan magazines. "Virginia Bradford's Love Life," it was called, and it supposedly related her affairs of the heart, ending with her last— the said Cedric. Belfrage from now on to "true confessions," or to make fun of the stars as of yore. He has been hit with a boomerang of his own making. Diaries are other absurdities. It is astonishing the number of young players who have all of a sudden produced diaries. . Ruth Roland, I believe, was the original and genuine diarist. Ruth had some of its excerpts published. But now every little girl keeps one. When brought to light, all have the flavor of the press agent, but so long as it the star into print, why worry ? "Sensationalism" is the word hour. No "blah" stuff any more the "hot" yarns will be accepted. — as they inform us — life already appeared. Joan Photo by Spun gets of the Only True stories have Crawford's made her out to be anything but a demure, young girl, consequently many people in Hollywood, and scores of fans, can hardly believe that Joan's "reformation" is really genuine. Her love for Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., and his for her, have been duly reported. It would have been wiser had la Crawford not striven to be so revealing regarding her "past." But to go back to interviews, especially lunchless ones, the sure harbingers of the present war between star and interviewer. The beautiful Billie Dove was interviewed not so long ago. The lady scribe had been invited to visit the Dove home at eleven thirty a. m. "I'm having luncheon with Billie Dove," she told me, gleefully, when I met her on the Boulevard. "I hope you get more than I got at — well, be on your way," I added ; "lunch will probably be at twelve." The hungry interviewer arrived at the Dove estate. Miss Dove, having some friends there, could not concentrate right away. "But you might care to read the paper," she suggested, returning to her guests. Finally the interview began. One o'clock came. . A Japanese servant came, too. He whispered something to Miss Dove. He received a whispered answer. Then he drew together the curtains separating the dining room from the drawing-room. The guests could plainly be heard taking their places at table. The meal was served. The tantalizing smell of delicious food wafted into the drawing-room. Still Miss Dove sat there and replied casually to questions. Perhaps she was dieting, but there was no cause to inflict such torture on the poor scribe. At two o'clock the interviewer rose to go. "You must come and see me again," Miss Dove sweetly said. "I'll bring a box lunch with me, if I ever do," the interviewer just as sweetly replied. Had Miss Dove's caller been another writer the contretemps would have been avoided. This lady likes the sensational, and does not give a hoot for any star. She merely says she will be there for lunch, or dinner — whichever meal she believes will be in progress when she arrives. Perhaps such enterprise has caused the stars to withdraw their hospitality. I only know that everything is changed. It used to be another gracious gesture of the stars always to send a car for the interviewer. But to-day — the stars have forgotten that such old customs ever existed. Perhaps Evelyn Brent should be admired for her utter disregard of all things pertaining to publicity. I don't think Miss Brent gives a darn for an interview. One writer had an appointment at her home at two o'clock in the afternoon. No mention of a car was made. Priscilla Dean was present. The writer was surprised, for she said she would see Priscilla at another time. But there she was at Miss Brent's abode, ready to be interviewed along with Evelyn. Two interviews in one, without a bite to Phyllis Haver eati or a wheel to excluded a writer rjde , from her party, . , . and ruffled feel ; Around four ings resulted. o'clock the inter