Motion Picture Magazine, July 1914 (1914)

EXTRACTS FROM THE DIARY OF MARY FULLER 81 March 20th- phoned today and thanked me for the gifts. Last week was her birthday. As I wasn't working in the morning of that particular day, I looked over my mail, and then rushed for the train. Went down to her rooms, took some spring flowers and arranged them in a vase on the table, put a new silk waist on the dresser with a note and prepared a nice birthday surprise. Then I came up- town and left the things to be discovered by her when she came home in the even- ing. I like doing things that will please other people. Marc ii 21st— Rummaging in my trunk this evening, among faded love- letters and erst- while emblems I found two of my baby photos. What a queer pollywog I was! but as they say homely chil- dren make hand- Some grown-ups, there is hope for me yet. March 22nd.— I worked this Sun- day morning at the studio, and then flew to my beloved Philharmonic con- cert. I arrived in good time, a n d, taking my accus- tomed seat in tin; back, I opened the lettuce and mayon- naise sandwich and proceeded to lunch. The usher looked at me doubtfully every time he passed thru the radius of mayon- naise smell, but the quick demoli- tion of the sand- wich and my cheer- ful abstraction disarmed him. The concert had started, and I was absorbing the beauties of Grieg, when "Raven Locks" passed down the aisle. Being in working clothes, I hid down under my hat, hoping to pass unnoticed, but how can a personal- ity of eloquent silence hope to get by unob- served? Just as I thought I was safe, he turned directly and bowed. During the intermission he came back, and we had a nice chat. "You dont need to be dressed up to enjoy music," he said, and I agreed with him. He is the sort of quiet, poetic personality that I like. One does not meet them often. The program was very good, tho I cannot enthuse over the new Dvorak symphony; I have heard it several times, and it hasn't registered yet. Madame Alda's songs were deliriously fragrant. One of them— 'Tis night, and the flowers are standing, Aglow from the kiss of the sun, Still burning from his caresses, And glad the night has come. They sigh as they wait in the darkness, And long for their lover, the dew; Await, impatient, his coming— Oh, that my love came, too!— called "Expectancy," by Frank LaForge, was rapturous and made all the goose- flesh on my back rise (relic of prime- valism) ; the other was equally good. March 23d.—I did battle with the dressmaker a n d tailor today. Dress- makers have whims of their own which cannot be dislodged, just as the genus "chauf- feur" always goes down the street you dont wish to go down. Sweet perversities that come from heaven to test our patience a n d m a k e u s stt nger! The dress- maker's art is nec- essary, a n d n o lovely thing can be born save with much travail. March 24th.— Took some "Dolly" stuff on 1 o w e r B r o a d w a y, and dont say "S o m e crowd!" A million can collect in a minute down there when the camera is produced. It takes some mancevering to steal the scenes. We lunched at the Old Chop House, which is reminiscent of the Chesh- ire Cheese in London. I wonder if my signature and accompanying drawing is still in the visitors' book at the Cheese. Dear old Cheese, the service is so bad there—and the ventilation. March 25th. —Today I had to save some one from committing suicide by jumping from the top of the Woolworth Building, forty-third floor (in "Dolly of the Dailies" No. 6). It makes one very squeamish to go up in those flying eleva- tors; my heart turned several flip-flops. The view of New York and the channel is superb from the balcony, and I hope we filmed some of that lovely "distance" as