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HO L L Y WOOD'S
SCPEEN STAPS SHOP HELPING
HAND « "
Here is the exterior of the Screen Stars Shop on Cahnenga Avenue. It looks almost as attractive and appealing as the stars that keep it going.
By DOROTHY SPENSLEY
On the opening dav, June Collyer sold hosiery. Here she is making a sale to Ruth Roland and Mary Brian, who are two staunch supporters of the shop.
THE man was obviously embarrassed. His clothes, unpressed, worn, hung dispiritedly from him. He reached into the cabinet and pulled forth a pair of shoes, tan shoes. They were not new shoes. They had been worn. But they would still resist rain and the scorch of hot pavements.
"If 1 had shoes," he said, falteringly, "I could get downtown to the radio station. You see, they've promised to give me a chance to sing."
He paused. He was yoimg. He might have been handsome if the hopelessness of defeat had not been upon him. He did not want charity. He could work. He could work if they would give him the chance. Before the war — but that was a long time ago.
"Fifty cents," Mrs. Wood said. Her manner would have been no different if she had been serving a Rockefeller.
"That's mighty fine of you," the man said, his shoulders squaring. "And, say, I — I want you to know that I appreciate this. I have a little bronze elephant. It's not much, and one tusk is broken, but if you can sell it here, keep the money and apply it to the price of these shoes." And he was gone, his face changed from despair to hope.
e
OW much is this little blue suit of Miss Pickf ord's Unaware of the little drama just passed, a motion picture devotee turned to Mrs. Wood. At the souvenir case toward the front of the store another was asking to see Vilma Banky's shoe buckles. A boy of twenty had bought five dollars worth of star's photographs, autographed, and was waiting for them to be wrapped. About the shop there was the air of bustling activity.
Screen Stars' Shop. The words gleamed from the two front windows. Sixteen fourteen, the numbers beamed from the door. Pedestrians on Cahuenga Avenue paused to look at the black velvet and beaded flesh chiffon dress in the window. It bore the tag, "Donated by Miss Vilma Banky." Mary
Pickford had contributed the crimson velvet costume with the gold lace in the other window. Inside, housewife elbowed extra girl as they tried on hats, some marked thirty-five cents, others priced at a dollar or more. Blue painted cabinets were hung with chifi^ons and velvets, silk suits and dimity frocks that had clothed celebrated figures.
This is the newest endeavor to raise money for that worthy charity, the Motion Picture Relief Fund. It is Mary Pickford's idea. It has, and to her enduring credit, her every support. As President of the Fund until June of this year (she has been succeeded by Jack Warner), she saw the need for increasing their resources to care for the ever-growing demands; particularly since the talking picture has rhro /n thousiads of extras and players out of work.
HER thought was, originally, to start a small thrift shop in which small-salaried players might add to their
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