Picture Play Magazine (Oct-Nov 1915)

NOV 26 1915 ©CLB343634 WTEEISLT 'Devoted to Picture Plays, their Actors Authors'! Vol. II. No. 8 November 27, 1915 Price, 5 Cents Published weekly by Street <£ Smith, 79-89 Seventh Ave., New York. Entered as Second-class Matter at the New York Post Office, according to an Act of Congress of March 3, 1879, by Street & Smith. Copyright, 1915, by Street & Smith. O. G. Smith and G. C. Smith, Proprietors. CONTENTS SHANGHAIED: A CHAPLIN COMEDY 'TWAS EVER THUS . THE BLOT ON THE SHIELD . VIA WIRELESS — Conclusion HINTS FOR SCENARIO WRITERS ANSWERS TO READERS B. Qaade 1 A. Lincoln Bender 8 Donald Doyle 14 Edwin Balmer 20 Clarence J. Caine 29 31 Terms to PICTURE=PLAY WEEKLY Mail Subscribers. (.Postage Free.) Single Copies or Back Numbers, Sc. Each. 3 months 65c. One year S2.50 4 months S5c. 2 copies one year 4.00: 6 months SI. 25 1 copy two years ■ 4.00 How to Send Money— By post-office or express money order, registered letter, bank check or draft, at our risk. At your own risk if sent by currency, coin, or postage stamps in ordinary letter. Receipts— Receipt of ypur remittance is acknowledged by proper change of number on your label. If not correct you have not been properly credited, and should let us know at once. Shanghaied: A Chaplin Comedy (ESSANAY) By B. Quade Probably it would be hard for you to imagine Charlie Chaplin as a sailor. Don't try to imagine it — this story of his funniest comedy will show you what he did, and failed to do, aboard ship, and in a way to make you hold your sides with laughter. It's a scream — that's what we say before you read the story. It's certain to be what you'll echo after reading it. 'HE vessel must be sunk — I need the insurance money !" The shipowner hissed the words, in approved conspirator's style, into the ear of the "captain. "Aye, aye, sir !" the latter replied, in a voice whose lowered tone caused it to sound like the rumbling of distant thunder. The captain of the good ship Sally Ann had a barrellike chest, from which emanated a voice that under normal conditions could be heard by persons situated ten blocks away — and sometimes even farther. "She goes down on this next trip — or you can call me a lubber !" The captain departed in one direction to secure a crew to embark upon the last cruise of the ill-fated Sally Ann, the shipowner set off in another, while from yet a third direction a young man came walking. His upper lip was decorated with a mustache that could not yet be said to have attained maturity — it was still in the adolescent stage. As the young man propelled himself along on the heels of a pair of shoes that were the worse for what appeared to be no less than ten or fifteen years of hard and continuous wear, his mustache moved from side to side in time with the alternate setting down and lifting of his feet— which, in addition, was accompanied by a wriggling motion of his narrow shoulders. In a battered derby hat, a too-short coat, and trousers that would have been big enough to fit two comfortably — if not in any way elegantly — plus the frayed necktie which "rode" a collar of questionable whiteness, the young man did not look as though he was going to keep an engagement with a member of the fair sex. And yet that was precisely the errand upon which Charlie Chaplin was bound. Stopping before a gate — it happened to be the one to the ship owner's house — Charlie placed his fingers alongside his lips and whistled. A bird, perched in a neighboring tree, at sound of the eerie melody — or the lack of it, rather — which floated from Charlie's pursedup lips upon the previously peaceful air, toppled slowly over on its branch and fell dead with a hopeless flutter of its wings. I Charlie sent the mournful, off-key whistle quavering forth again, and yet