Cinema Art (November 1926)

NOVEMBER, 19 2 6 s to flayers and Pictures By RENEE VAN DYKE L ESS than six hours after the tragic acci- dent to the Fonck Trans-Atlantic plane, in which Clavier and Islamoff were burned to death, Pathe News scenes of the take-off, the loss of a wheel, the first burst of flame as the machine spun half ’round, the hair-breadth escape of Fonck and Curtin, and the complete destruction of the big air cruiser in a seething mass of fire, had been delivered to Broadway theatres. These news films of the fatal crash were the first delivered locally and the first to be shipped to outside points by airplane, automobile and train. The Pathe News had the exclusive rights to the filming of the pro- posed Fonck hop from New York to Paris and two cam- eramen were stationed at van- tage points along the plane’s ground course, some fifty yards apart. The plane sped safely past the first camera- man, but was rocking badly as the second man, further down the field, cranked his camera. Suddenly the ma- chine hit the brow of a knoll, and.went into a tail spin. A flash of fire followed. Just as Fonck and Curtin emerged from the open cockpit and ran for safety, there was a swirl of fire and black smoke that marked the tragic end of one of the most daring undertak- ings in the history of aviation. An automobile, with engine running and driver ready, was standing nearby, and when the hopes for the two trapped men were gone the cameraman were rushed to the headquarters in New York, where an extra laboratory force prepared prints. Positive prints were delivered to Loew’s New York State Theatre at 11.30 a. m., just five hours after the disaster, which occurred at 6.30 a. m. A print reached the Strand Thea- tre at 11.58 a. m., and another print was de- livered at the Rialto Theatre at noon, estab- lishing what is believed to be a record for speed in covering an event that happened miles away from headquarters. P ATHE News’ service also did quick work _ reporting the devastation wrought in the terrific Florida hurricane on Saturday and Sunday, Sept. 18th and 19th, films reaching New York Tuesday afternoon, Sept. 21st, when Ralph Earle, staff cameraman stationed at Miami, landed at an aviation field in Jersey City. He used four airplanes in the trip north from Miami. Broadway theatres showed these sensational storm scenes at the Tuesday evening performances. Dramatic, indeed, is the story of the “cov- ering” of the Florida hurricane by Earle, a camera reporter located at Miami. On the first warning of the impending storm he pre- pared to photograph it, and was in the midst of the hurricane throughout its duration. Al- though he was injured and at one time im- prisoned for six hours in a wrecked building, he continued to grind his camera whenever the raging wind and water allowed him to. Unable to communicate with his editor, he left the devastated area and managed to get to Jacksonville, where he established wire communication with New York, saying that he would bring the film in himself. Immedi- ately an airplane was chartered which brought him to Atlanta, where arrangements had been made for another plane to meet him and make the next lap of the trip. Earle, almost exhausted from injuries and hunger, but refusing to surrender his precious film to anyone, was carried from the plane to another piloted by Doug Davis, winner of Nelson Keys, Dorothy Gish, and Will Rogers meet in England, where Miss Gish recently completed work on her next picture, “Tip-Toes” the recent aerial races at the Sesquicentennial. The fourth plane was sighted over Jersey City at 4.32 p. m. Due to exposure during the hurricane and his insistence upon standing by his film record- ings until he personally delivered them to his editor in New York, Earle was in a state of near exhaustion. He was immediately at- tended to by a doctor who was awaiting his arrival in response to a telegraphic message, reading: “Kindly get doctor . . . Three days in salt water and sand without removing shoes has resulted in bad condition.” W HEN Earle was sufficiently revived, he told the reporters his own story of his experiences in grinding a camera in the middle of a hurricane. “Last Friday I sent Mr. Cohen a tele- gram stating that the hurricane was forecast and that I had received the film negative that he had sent me and would be on the look-out. “About 6 o’clock Saturday night the first signs of the storm appeared. It became very dark and the air was stifling, making it hard to breathe. “Then the wind began to get stronger and stronger. I went first into a garage, when the window crashed in and the walls began to buckle. Leaving the garage I went around the corner where debris was sailing up the street. Something hit me in the head, knock- ing me down. I made my way back to my room on the beach. “I had my belongings in a big fibre steamer trunk and everything was getting drenched. But it was not raining. The water was simply being blown from the surface of the ground. I started to put things on the chairs because the water was continuously rising in the room. I took short strips of wood and tried to block the windows and finally succeeded in blocking up most of them. This was along about five o’clock Sunday morning. The storm was just about to break. “When the storm came I had put on a bathing suit, but when it in- creased in fury I changed, realizing that I might have to go a long way before it was over. Suddenly something at- tracted my attention to one side of the room, and none too soon, for as I just dodged away the window was blown almost into my face! Then, in rapid succession, timbers and walls came crashing in for about an hour. Later the roof blew away and the side timbers crashed in, burying me for six hours. Luckily I had a flashlight with me. My only food was a box of soda crackers. Finally, along about seven o’clock, I was rescued by the city firemen. I went over to the firehouse for a few min- utes, and then I went back to gather my things. The water was up to my knees by this time. I had great difficulty in keeping my films dry. I got the box up several feet above the water and covered it with oilcloth, pre- paring to make the pictures just as soon as it was light. About 9.30 I set the camera up on a table, about the center of the room, pointed it towards the door, and took the first pictures made of the storm. The wind and water were blowing over automobiles and covering them with debris and timbers. The water was being blown at about the rate of 100 to 130 miles an hour, just like a white mist. “About eleven o’clock we took the camera outfit across the street and put it up in a room, pointing it towards the storm. This was the most spectacular picture of all. About 11.30 we started to go south to the ocean. There the water was being blown about 100 miles an hour, picking up every- thing and throwing it about with ter- rific speed.” E MIL JANNINGS, recognized all over the world as one of the foremost screen actors, arrived in New York on Oct. 16 to work in America under his contract with Paramount. Jannings was born in New York in 1886, but his parents took him back to Germany before he was a year old. At ten years of age, Emil arrived in Gorlitz, where he left school in the fourth term—simply ran away, and Page Fifty-three