Talking Screen (Jan-Aug 1930)

melody of love in the moonlit scene in The Song of Life. ERNICE swayed uncertainly. "I'd love to— but " she stammered, and then changing her mind, added in a throaty voice, "Yes, I'll be glad to, Larry." She was struggling to keep back the stinging tears. "It'll be splendid to know how it's done." Her eyes tried to register ■ smiling wonder, but her lips quivered nervously. For Larry to learn of Weinstein's refusal to give her a place in his talkie made her feel ashamed, humiliated. Now, for him to invite her exultantly to listen in to Velma's test for the very role that should have been hers, was like a knife in her heart. "But maybe Larry wanted 'Velma to have the lead," was her thought, as stunned and resentful, she shrugged as if to shake herself nientally. Gradually, by some stupendous feat of will, she managed to gain control of herself, and the three of them went along silently, tensely, matching their steps. THE soft violet brilliancy of the California morning crept across the ragged foothills to wipe out the purple shadows of the sunrise. The sun now poured floods of blue vapor down on the trees, melting the pastel shades into a golden radiance. In a little while they came to Larry's new roadster carefully parked in the shade of a pepper tree. Larry took the wheel and Bernice, thrilled with his nearness, unconsciously moved closer to him to make room for "W^einstein. She did not emerge from her ecstatic ttance as they sped out along the Boulevard towards 'Weinstein's home antil she heard Sidney enthusing in a deep baritone: "Listen Lacry, what this Velma's got is what it takes," he chuckled. "If only the mike is kind to her, she'll pack 'em a wallop in The Song of Life." "Sounds good," agreed Larry. Then he added thoughtfully, "that's right, Sidney, it's going to take a voice as golden as this sunlight— and gray matter, too," he supplemented, with a quick glance at Bernice, "to lend pathos to the song-writer's words." "She has 'em all, if you ask me. She'll not only slip 'em a lensful, but a loudspeakerful," promised "Weinstein THEY say she's a high powered and pampered doll," commented the leading man. Have you signed her up yet?" "No; I've waited to hear if she records well." "And if she doesn't.'" Larry showed a crescented eyebrow. "Don't worry, she'll be all right, I'm sure. Maybe I'm not a picker," and "Weinstein beamed. A half hour's spin brought them to the house on the beach that Bernice had heard Weinstein refer to as his shack. It was a huge, white affair, Spanish, with burnt red tiles and multi-colored awnings. Off from the big living-room, with broad windows leading out to velvety lawns and wide patios, he had constructed a sound-proof studio where apparatus for reproduction of sound pictures had been installed. V "She wanted the lead because — " Velma screamed, but Weinstein's frenzied gestures expressing bewilderment had stopped her. In a flash, shaking with fury, she swung about and struck him full in the face. T was litre at frequent intervals she had been told he staged private previews with headlinets and entertainers, par excellence, as his guests. Bernice remembered now his telephone conversation with Richard Motte, the director, but was surprised to find Joan Mixon, Willis Carnes, Norma "Waters, Bill Jarvis, Anita Ingram, Leroy Loeb, and seveial other .stars already there with Moote to hear ■Velma"s test and to give the little girl a big hand. Arthur Laney, the dialogue writer, a technician, and Irving Kaufman, were also there. The director strode about restlessly. "Velma Vallery had not arrived. The air fairly tingled with impatient expectancy. '"VX^onder who she thinks she is to keep us waiting," grunted the director, when "Weinstein inquired about Velma. 'ELL, say! " Weinstein bristled. But before he could resent Motte's caustic comment, the "wonder girl" of the New York stage swept in with a queenly manner registering extreme indifference to their annoyance over her thirty minutes delay. "Weinstein stepped forward eagerly to greet her. Bernice was holding an animated conversation with Irving Kaufman over at the piano, but looked up in time to catch Velma's quick eye spot Larry. Before she quite realized how it happened she saw Velma lightly wave "Weinstein aside with a jeweled hand and join the leading man. LARRY DARRINGTON! What a mar/ velous inspiration for "Weinstein to costar us!" and she smiled up at him in a manner that masculine theatergoers seemed to find so irresistible. "Yes — yes," stammered Larry confusedly. Then, with a jealous glance towards Bernice and Irving, he raised his voice and went on, ""W.e'11 have to get together often and rehearse." It appeared to Betnice that "Velma's smile was too direct as she replied, "How happy I'd be! "We're going to make a wonderful picture out of this." Then, linking her arm through his possessively, Velma struck a gracefully theatrical posture and turned her famous profile to the light. THE vivid vamp!" Bernice thought. "She's picked Larry for a new thrill — I'll bet she's thinking of the love scenes," and she tried to appear oblivious of the two of them and to concentrate on what the songwriter was saying, bu her heart was running out of rhythm. Larry's manner seemed uneasy now. He glanced again towards Bernice and before Velma suspected it, had guided her to where Bernice and Irving sat at the piano. "Gee! Bernice, you two seem to be getting a good one out of the air," he smiled quizzically, "how about letting us in?" "Irving and I were just trying the new theme song — it goes something like this," and swaying to and fro Bernice hummed the soft, plaintive notes of The Mating Call. I UT she came to a sudden stop. The haughty Velma's chin went up. An appraising look at the slim, clear-eyed girl at her side had apparently brought on her most ritzy manner. Then, sweeping Bernice from head to foot with a contemptuous and [^Continued on page 881 85