Film Fun (Jan - Dec 1916)

ETHELMARY OAKLAND, IN "THE HEARTS OF MEN" A Youthful Star V^OUTH is having its day on the screen. Ethelmary Oakland, who played Amy Fisher in "The Hearts of Men," is only seven years old, yet she has all the tricks and the manners of the stage at her fingers' ends. For Ethelmary has had experience on the speaking stage as well as on the screens. After her rehearsals for "The Hearts of Men," she took an engagement with the Boston Opera Company in "Madame Butterfly," playing a Japanese child, and is said to be one of the most versatile child actresses of to-day. A Three-year-old Leading Lady TV/IISS HELEN MARIE OSBORN is a leading lady with the Balboa Company, and if you wish to incur her severe displeasure, just call her "Baby Helen." Since she has been a leading lady, she demands to be addressed as "Miss Osborn." Both her father and mother play seconds to her leads, both at home and at the studio. Leon Osborn, her father, is the manager of her company, and her mother, better known as Babe St. Clair, plays the maid in the pictures in which Miss Osborn leads. The wee leading lady played child parts so well during her brief engagement with the Balboa Company that the Horkheimer Brothers had a play written especially for her. She was quite content to be known as a baby until she learned of this, and since that time she arrives and departs and conducts herself generally with a dignity that convulses the company. "Hello, Baby!" said one of the company one morning, picking up the wee mite to kiss her. ' ' Gimme a kiss this morning. ' ' Helen Marie hopped nimbly out of his arms and announced grandly, "No lady 'lows such f'marity. Please 'dress me as Miss Osborn." Miss Helen Marie Osborn, if you please, leading lady of the Balboa Company. The Explosions of Elaine Sometimes the children interpret the leaders better than they know, as did the small boy who was eagerly gazing at every scene in the picture show one afternoon. Dimes were none too common with him, and he wanted to enjoy every moment of the picture. At the close of a rather tame film a leader was flashed upon the screen. It read: THE EXPLOITS OF ELAINE. The small boy settled back in his chair with great content. "Watch out there now," he said to his companion. "Here comes the Explosions of Elaine!" A Grateful Cat Viola Dana came into the Edison Studio one morning in time to see a stray gray cat being unceremoniously swept out of the door. "No extras wanted to-day," said the office boy, with a grin. "Scat, cat!" Viola rescued the feline and fed it some canned milk and gave it an old rug to lie on. Then she forgot the cat. One morning, in rehearsing a play, she needed a cat and three kittens in her scene. They sent out to the company menagerie for the required number of cats. The keeper politely and regretfully told them there was nothing doing in cats. Wait a minute — here's where the cat's appreciation of a good turn comes in. When Miss Dana sank back in her chair and turned a despairing face to her director for sympathy at the paucity of cats, the old, original gray cat walked in the door, proudly leading a furry procession of three small kittens, each a replica of the mother. She led them to the feet of the little leading lady with a triumphant air that said as plainly as a cat can talk. "Now, don't say I'm not grateful. Here's your cat family for your play!" That is why you see a cat and three kittens in "Gladiola, " the play in which Viola shares honors with her pet cat. HELEN MARIE OSBORN