Photoplay Magazine, January 1921 (anuary 1921)

3° Photoplay Magazine ' T TOLD her up as an example of the perfect wife and J- -L she will soon take pride in making your bluff good." Take her to parties, arrange pleasures for her, she will be entirely happy. One of the cleverest wives I ever knew once said to me, "I don't care in the least what my husband does, is, or says, with regard to other people, or where he goes when he is away from me. The only thing I care anything about is how he treats me." Marriage is the only test of love. A man's part—I take it—is about ten per cent. And that ten per cent consists chiefly in making the woman happy. Because a happy wife makes a happy home. It is much more difficult to be a good husband nowadays than it is to be a good wife. The new order has placed hus- bands at a decided disadvantage. I think it was La Roche- foucauld who said, "A man who can govern a woman can govern a nation." Diplo- macy rather than force is the prime requisite. Woman is an epicurean in love. You can make her feel her chain. The strongest tie that can be used to bind a woman is (he knowledge that she is loved. She is willing to accept the hand of steel, but it must be adorned with the velvet glove. And just as long as there is a woman left on earth, man will have some- thing to learn. A woman requires pet- ting. They must have the arms, the touch of the one that is dear to them. A wife is nearly always true to the husband that is with her—not all, but most of the time. I wouldn't vouch for any wife left alone too long. You mustn't neglect them. Women are happier in the love they call forth than in that they give. The happiest love affairs are where the most love is on the man's side. Happy wives are nearly always indulged and petted wives. • They may not be of so much use to the rest of the community, but they are a lot more useful to the man. Marriage should be lived in the tropics of emotion. Undeserved rewards, extrav- Wally Reid. Jr. (To say nothing of the dog.) agant praise, public adulation, are to women what forbidden fruit is to men. The tree of marriage needs a lot of pruning. It is held back by outworn conventions, traditions, silly customs and beliefs. A husband must be prepared for a certain number of scenes. Women must have scenes. They adore 'em. The uncivilized side of the feminine nature revels in scenes. Therefore, the wise husband will assume a detached attitude and 'help her enjoy herself as much as possible. He might even leave her occasionally, let her find a love note from some other woman in his pocket, be abusive, so that she may have opportunity for a little third act music. He must learn to take quarrels lightly and forgiveness seri- ously. He must understand that a woman never means any- thing she says in anger. He must berate her for faults she admires in others and praise her for virtues she has never had. He must indulge her de- sire for exhibitions of her power over him. No matter what she asks him to do in public, he must always do it. even if he has to beat her when he gets her home to teach her better in future. Treat her advice and opinions with infinite re- spect. A woman loves to believe she is responsible for a man's success. For after all, woman was created because man had demonstrated that he couldn't get along by him- self. She has had a raw deal in some respects for a good many centuries, and if her new freedom has gone to her head a bit, let's cheer her on. It won't hurt her and it will probably do her good. Actually, woman is the inspiration, solace, and reward of everything a man does in this world. It doesn't do any harm to let her know it. There is nothing a woman cannot be to a man, but—as I said before—her love is a tropical flower. It blooms only in the sunshine of love. **** I ONLY HAVE TO SLIP ONCE! HARRY McLAUGHLIX, playboy of the skies, was beaten to death by the propeller of an aeroplane last month while performing his aerial stunts at the New- York State Fair in Syracuse. Below, in the grandstand, his mother sat watching her son, mangled by the whirling blades, carried down from a height of a thousand feet, and dragged along the ground. McLaughlin, who has recently been featured in two photo- plays, had been selected to fill the contract of Locklear, recent- ly killed in California. On Friday his contract expired and he made what he thought was his last flight. Then his mother visited him. She had never seen her son do his hair-raising stunts in the clouds and the next day he volun- teered to repeat his performance for her benefit. At the time the accident occurred he was swinging on a rope ladder from one aeroplane to another. He caught the ladder, a high wind banked the plane above and swung him into the propeller of the plane below. His body was almost cut in two. Clinging with his hands the plane pancaked down over the grandstand and dropped him in the dust before the horrified crowd. Harry McLaughlin was a young man who enjoyed every minute of living. While working at his aerial stunts he sang and whistled as he climbed about the planes, hanging by his feet, dropping from plane to plane, laughing at death every minute. Last spring he decided to quit the flying game. He was featured in two western pictures "Honeymoon Ranch" and "Crossed Trails." Then he decided to make one more tour, and it was his last. "I know I can do it 20.000 times and get away with it, but I only have to slip once," he said not long ago. He had been a lieutenant and instructor in the air service during the war. For several years he was an instructor in the Washington Y. M. C. A. He planned to work in a series of pictures this year. Thousands of times he had repeated his stunts without accident but on his last flight the one "slip" came.