Movie Makers (Jan-May 1928)

PORTRAITS of PIONEERS H. A. DeVry First of a Series of Interviews with Interesting Personalities in the Amateur Motion Picture Field THERE is one man who could if he would write a thrilling and romantic story of how motion pictures were made safe for democracy; that is, how they were kept from becoming the exclusive monopoly of the theatre and were released for the use of the home, the school, the church and the world of business — a story that would read like a fairytale. But this man's modesty stands in the way of getting the story in his own words. The story would begin with the conquering of seemingly insurmountable difficulties and it would end with a modern example of the survival of the fittest. This manufacturer inventor prefers to work either at his table or with his engineers, where some of the most original and ingenious apparatus for motion pictures has been worked out by him in the past score or more years. The man is H. A. DeVry, better known to his many friends and employees as just "H. A." Notwithstanding the fact that "H. A." could long since have retired from business, he is the very active head of the DeVry Corporation. He and the night watchman, the only employee on a 12-hour shift, just about divide honors on the time each puts in on his job. There are times however when the call of the water gets too strong for him and then he lives with his family on his yacht — a beautiful 82-foot Diesel-powered craft named "Typee" a variation of the name of his pet portable motion picture machine "Type E." Unlike most men of his age, he does not spend his surplus energy in golf, but polishes brass and mahogany on his yacht, which he navigates so successfully that he has repeatedly carried away the principal efficiency prizes in navigation on Lake Michigan. The distinction of having made the first practical portable projector, the suitcase projector, the first portable motor-driven projector, all belongs to "H. A." It was conceived back in 1912 while he was a free lance movie camera man and exhibitor, and made with his own hands in his basement workshop of his home — "And be One-hundred-jour HERMAN A. DEVRY lieve me," says "H. A.," when speaking of that time, "I worked the midnight candle in those days, with my good wife to keep me company and give me the steady encouragement I needed." How "H. A." started his business with a foot-power lathe, a work bench, a few tools, a completed model and cash capital assets of $125.00 in a 16x18 foot room at 117 Wells Street, Chicago, in the face of dozens of concerns which were working in the same line, with from $2,000 to unlimited capital; how he persisted until today he is the only one to survive in the portable and non-theatrical field of all those who were in business at that time, is a story of real romance. There is still another story which would deal with "A. H.'s" perfection of the DeVry Automatic 35 m.m. Movie Camera, which created a sensation on its appearance by accomplishing for $150 the essentials of the job which had previous required professional movie cameras costing up to $5,000. Its great contribution was the double counter-balanced spring, which had so much power to spare after the film was unwound, that it stopped with the snap of a start. Although designed for the amateur, Hollywood studios and newsreel men have used it widely with unqualified success. When once set it takes pictures under water, upside down, dropping from aeroplanes, facing gun powder and dynamite explosions, or what have you? It is said to have outsold every standard movie camera made in the history of the industry. Nor would Mr. DeVry say much about his new creations — the Type G 16 m.m. Projector, and the De Vry Continuous Projector for the advertising world. "Look at 'em," he said, "isn't that enough?" And what I saw in the projection room, was a dainty little machine, with its large silvery discs gleaming in the dim light like butterfly wings. When he pressed the button, its gentle hum could scarcely be heard. He picked it up and held it perched like a pigeon on the palm of one hand. Twenty seven feet from the screen where we stood the pictures were almost life size, and clear as crystal. He pressed a button — one of the moving pictures suddenly stopped dead "frozen" stiff on the screen — giving one the uncanny feeling of a ghost suddenly caught from a weird processional. "Over here", said "H. A.," "I don't have to press a button to make it stop. This one is self stopping. The built-in clock and Mercoid switch does the work". Now he was showing me the Continuous Projector, built on the same base and lines as the Type G. It possessed the further marvel of continuous uninterrupted projection, hour after hour, the same picture story over and over again — until the hands on the clock reached the predetermined time, then a tiny mercury tube tilted a little — and the thing became instantly dark and motionless. And Moviedom is now watching for the promised De Vry 16 m.m. camera. Will it have three speeds? Will it have the double counter balanced spring of the De Vry 35 m.m. camera? How much will it cost? These questions are interesting many. I was shown a model of it, but I can only say that it will be out in April and will measure up to all of the high expectations for it. (Continued on page 118)