Close Up (Jul-Dec 1929)

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CLOSE UP the crook in your picture hide in a tree. I could see the point right away. We'll buy out any man's original ideas whether he calls himself Shakespeare, or Jimmy Perkins. Well, that's why you are here to-day under contract, my boy." " Well, old top," he indicated the end of the audience by a shifting of the chair, "I'd better be moving, got a lot of hard work ahead of me yet. Pete Heineman, my director, Rosa del Oro, and myself are going for a yacht trip to frame a movie that's going to take the world by storm. Between me, and you, and the telephone pole, Rosa is a peach of a girl, some personality, she can soak her socks in my coffee any day." And Jimmy Perkins went out into the air, the faint aroma of a Havana cigar lingering about him like the august memory of the Presence he had just quitted. And like the seers of old, foretasting future bliss, he saw himself in his mind's eye mounting rapidly that ladder of SUCCESS which leads from the bottom of twenty-a-week pay envelopes, dirty press rooms, sneers of " superiors " to that desirable heaven where Publicity Agents attend w^ith baited breath the steps of Majesty, where left-handed affairs with " girlies " are considered by broad-minded, truly Christian Gentlemen of the Press but as pardonable, extravagances of supersophisticated geniuses, and the society of princes, counts, millionaires, " beauties ", politicians, bootleggers, short story w^orld champions, and adoration, and adulation, and " parties ", bank accounts, and more bank accounts are but in the daily round of life . . . And he saw all this and it was good. Michael Stuart. 371