Motion Picture Magazine, July 1914 (1914)

CHATS WITH THE PLAYERS 87 who had so aptly bestowed this so- briquet upon the youngest leading woman of Lubinville. She is all that the English artist of the last gener- ation made her pictures of little people —enchantingly quaint and droll. "But I'm quite a horsewoman, you know, and I dont think the Kate Greenaway boys and girls ever rode anything but hobby-horses. Mr. Jones —my director and leading man, you know—rides like a Frederic Reming- ton plainsman and has taught me to ride my mount just like a real West- ern girl." A mite of five feet and ninety-nine pounds dashing over the prairies seemel a bit incongruous, but Miss Louise's mount was her pony, and her field of action the park bridle-path. "Please dont laugh at me. Promise? Cross your heart?" We dumbly complied, and she continued: "Well, I want to play"—another comedienne who pines to play Lady Macbeth, we thought—"yes, I want to play Dickens. I long to be Little Dorrit and The Marchioness and Lucy Manette. I would rather the public thought of me as one Dickens character than the heroine of a hun- dred modern photoplays." "That's Cissy's dearest dream," Miss Justina interposed, "and she doesn't tell every one, but she has a plan—shall I tell, Cissy dear?" "Oh, please—not now. You see, I want to play Dickens, and I li&ve a quiet little way of getting what I want. Dont make me say more, wiL you? Just wait." Another surprise! The fragile snow- drop of a girl, with a laudable and consistent ambition, and her sister, whom we guiltily admit we thought reveled in the Elsie Books, are re- vealed as avid readers of Maeter- linck ! In truth, to chat with screen stars is to know them as they really are. Miss Justina, five feet one inch of quiet dignity, and Miss Louise, the same amount of girlish gayety, each said good-by in her own little way. And now do you know Justina and Louise Huff, bits of the old and the modern South, a little better than you did before you were introduced? NOEBERT LUSK. MIRIAM NESBITT, OF THE EDISON COMPANY Miss Nesbitt may be found at the farther end of an hour's sub- way ride, a half-hour on the elevated, a fifteen-minute walk—or, rather, pant—up a steep hill, and a brisk knock at the door. But she is worth it! Rap, rap! "Come in." Open sesame!. And, presto, Miss Nesbitt! : >,:She was writing a note, using her wardrobe trunk as a desk, and she greeted me cordially, albeit vaguely. "Sit down and look around while I finish assuring this girl, whom I never heard of, that I positively cannot get her a chance as leading lady with the Edison Company," she smiled in a pleasant, brisk, sure-of- herself voice. "The hundred-odd cos- tumes hanging on the furniture are the greatest trials of my life. Nothing up-to-date when I need it, nothing the right size or shape or state of buttons. What Motion Pictures need most is a regular wardrobe mistress to do our clothes-worrying for us, to keep us in repair and to see that we have appro- priate costumes for our plays. You might suggest that " While she finishes her note to the girl-she-never-hear.d-of, let us take a chair, gingerly on account of the white satin slippers, the pink-silk auto bonnet, the fur muff and lace parasoi already occupying it, and look out of the admiring corners of our eyes at Miss Nesbitt herself. She is neither tall nor short—five feet seven and one-half inches, to be exact; she is neither stout nor thin, one hundred and thirty-five pounds being the verdict of the scales; she is neither blonde nor brunette, with her chestnut hair, gray-blue eyes and fair skin. This sounds like a parody of Poe's Bells —"They are neither brute