Talking Screen (Jan-Aug 1930)

Weinstein's Dearie "Sure, nothing jou Jl want to hear." BERNICE winced as though stung. "Why, Sidney, aren't you going to give me the lead? I've been counting on it — I've even studied the — " She wanted to tell him she had already learned the songs, but he interrupted impatiently. "Sorry, Bernice, but it isn't your type. You see," he flattered, "the public wants you in plays that have beauty and grace and delicacy." He inhaled a lungful of smoke slowly and gazed at her speculatively through narrowed lids. "You've made me as old-fashioned as Janice Meredith! I've always been a type — and as out of date as a bustle," she retorted. "The public doesn't know what it wants." EINSTEIN shook his head vehemently. "Say, listen to me, Bernice! The public knows now what it wants — good talkies— and believe me, that's what I'm going to give it," he added definitely. "But, Sidney," and Bernice off her guard with eagerness leaned across towards him. All I need is a chance to speak." "What!" Weinstein's exclamation had a thread of laughter in it. "Surely, Bernice, you're joking." "Never more serious in my life." Her tone was quiet, even mildly insistent, but there was a self-confident look in her shining eyes. "Please, Sidney, give me a chance in The Song of Life." "My God ! Bernice, this is ridiculous. You know what your voice is like. To be frank — shrill, high-pitched," and waving his fat palms at her, "you're just not suited, that's all." SHE drew herself up imperiously. "But you don't know my ability." Then, with a pleading intonation, "let me prove it. I'll make good if you'll only give me a test — " She broke off abruptly, afraid to trust her voice further. If Weinstein caught the note of desperacion in her tone, he made no sign. But he could not have cut her more effectively than when, looking at her calculatingly, he spoke with stern finality: "There's no use in discussing it, Bernice, we've practically decided on the girl for our lead." EINSTEIN rose. She saw there was no chance to prolong the interview. His attitude caused her to cringe as though he had struck her. She stood up unsteadily. She could not speak 'and turned to leave him. Suddenly, the door opened and Larry Darrington appeared before them. "Hello, Sidney! Just stopped in for you on my way to " Then Larry saw Bernice. "Why, hello, Bernice! Where have you been all these weeks?" and he caught her hands and held diem close. A swift deep smile illumined his eyes. There was the same aristocratic control and ease of manner, the same courtesy, but Larry seemed to be greatly elated over an {Continued from page 66] important matter. THIS was the first time Bernice had seen him since the regrettable Irving Kaufman misunderstanding. Now he was headed towards stardom in the talkies,, wih women going goofy about him. The latest gossip had it that he was to become one of the most popular idols of the talking screen. "Larry!" She laughed happily. 'How do you happen to be here?" His piercingly direct brown eyes weakened to the point of puzzled inquiry. "Why, haven't you heard?" Then, with an unassuming modesty, "Sidney's starring me in The Song of Life." "Congratulations!" Bernice had suspected this the moment Larry had entered Weinstein's office unannounced. The unpleasant matter was what she didn't suspect. Weinstein glanced at his watch impatiently. Bernice was quick to take the hint. "Please don't let me detain you," she faltered. "Gee! Bernice, it's great to see you again, but we're "on our way to Weinstein's studio to hear Velma Vallery's voice test." At her questioning glance he looked puzzled and hastened to explain: "You know, Bernice, "Vehna's the surprise choice for the lead in The Song of Life." HER face flamed at his words. The temperamental musical comedy star who was trying to crash the talkies. So her rival had fallen heir to this big break! The role she coveted — had prepared for! Now she could understand Larry's excitement. All the warm ardency of her nature went cold. Bitter jealousy welled up in her. But she managed to put on something that looked like a smile and extended her hand: "The best of luck to you, Larry." Her voice had a strange, earnest sharpness. "So long!" and she turned towards the door. "Oh, Bernice, just a moment," and Larry spoke in his most dangerously magnetic tones. Laying an impulsive hand on her arm, he looked keenly into her face. She saw a flicker of the old light in his eyes. SAY," he turned to Weinstein. "Why can't we take Bernice with us?" The producer nodded. "Sure, why not?" but his face showed ill-concealed chagrin, and Larry stared at him with a puzzled expression. Facing Bernice eagerly, Larry drew her towards him. "It'll be an opportunity for you to learn something about the 'mike'. Will you go, Bernice?" Her face did not change as he asked the question, but her breast rose perceptibly with an increased speed in her breathing. She could feel Larry's voice winning her again, making her feel sick and faint and joyous and full of that maddening confusion of emotion. She tried to despise herself for it as she remembered that it would be "Velma he would hold in his arms while he crooned a 84