Hollywood Filmograph (Jan-Jul 1930)

January 18, 1930 I Browsing Around with The Nighthawk THOSE FUNNY FELLOWS AND HOW THEY ARE CLICKING As gentle as the dewy drizzle that wooed the Southland into a verdant smile, Johnny Hamp and his marvelous band of Kentucky Serenaders crooned their way into the hearts of almost a thousand of the Cocoanut Grove's vast clientele last Tuesday night. The luring, haunting and velvety strains of his music, and its whispering cadenzas, at times, spoke eloquently of his mastery of nuances in syncopation. His inimitable style is a subtle unfolding of jazz magic at its finest. The pedal urge; the rhythmic yearn; the undulating thrill and the madcap twirl, all meet in every throb of his forte or pianissimo melodies. Col. Abe Frank, the "big shot" of the Ambassador Hotel, was the happiest mortal this side of the Tehachipa. With uncontrolled exuberance he let loose "With these weapons we will conquer." As Hamp raised his graceful baton to beat the lilting tempo of "Chant of the Jungles" his eyes leveled opposite him on a trio of Apollo's three diamond specials ; Paul Whiteman, Abe Lyman and Earl Burtnett. Under the glare of these Big Berthas, Johnny stood the gaff with fortitude. Their heads were together as close as a football huddle. It was a star chamber verdict, but the old Night Hawk — "The Eye That Never Sleeps" — got this through his eardrum: "You gotta go some to tie that bird," rumbled Paul; "Why in the hell did I come back from the east," burbled Abraham; "The Biltmore will never seem the same to me again," yodeled Earl. Verily, brethren, Johnny Hamp and his jazz joys have come to the Land of Beulah for a protracted stay. The merry-makers' appraisal almost to a man was, "great." Salute to Abe and Ben Frank. And the greeters — what a bunch. One of the first to extend Johnny the glad hand was Al Jolson and wife. Then there was Carmel Meyers and husband, Mr. and Mrs. William A. McAdoo ; Lawrence Gray ; Don Lee ; J. V. Baldwin ; Young W. R. Hearst ; De Wolf Hopper ; Walter Hagan ; Grant Withers ; Loretta Young; Sid Grauman and mother. Joe McClockey; Wilson Mizner; Jane Winton and hubby; Eddie Brandstatter; Alphone Strahl; Sam Holland; Raquel Torres; Bert Wheeler; Bobby Gross; Bobby Crawford; Frankie Taubaur; Isadore Friedman; George Fabregat, and Frank Borgaze and wife. Hats off to Maitre D., Henry De Soto, and his side kick, Jimmy Manos. The Blossom Room (Roosevelt Hotel, Hollywood), swung its night of nights last Monday in its softer-hour glorifying of the "Show of Shows" stars, fresh from their triumphs of Warner Brothers' masterpiece Revue. Program Purveyor, Norman Manning, ably assisted by his understudy, prince of publicity Sam W. B. Cohn, was particularly felicitous with his bag of feature tricks. His offerings were by far the classiest the famous Blossom Room has ever known. The merry jingle of composite twirl, murmur and gayety came to a sudden fadeout at 11:30 o'clock following George Olsen's lads persuasive, "quiet please." Then George trundled himself into imperishable renown with his latest ■ imajor stick effusion, "I Dropped It," the packed house fairly shouting lead off in hilarious surprise. The stunt is a wow, but it threw the bars of "The National Emblem" off its railroad tracks, and the coda ded something like a police-auto's honk gone haywire. George declares i it was simply his version of "I Faw Down," and that the damned stick "Dancing around in its bones." Sweet-voiced Robert Borger smiled ely as he ventured "Boopy, Boopy, Doo." Then James Liddy bridged the situation by rendering "If You Were Mine Alone" in a voice of tender resonance that vibrated the heartstrings of all present. Followed, Al Golden and George Dougherty, monarchs of tap dancers. Ah ha — Monte Blue bursting on the scene as if from the hands of the genii and with a tonsil full of japes, interspersed with a just eulogy of the Warner Brothers. Monte's little guff about "My sugarbowl haircut" put him temporarily in the Will Rogers class. Billy Elliott's "Old Man River" brought forth an enthusiastic burst of acclaim. The Campus Trio (three lovely peris), intoned, "Tain't No Sin to Take Off Yer Shoes and Dance Around in Your Hose." And Charley King with his cyclonic personality tore off three of his best song hits, shooting delirious joy into all hearts. Among those that were specially introduced by George Olsen were : Frank Fay, Alberta and Ada May Vaughn, and Sam H. Harris, famous Broadway producer. The Night Hawk caught Frank Mayo and his beautful wife, George Cohan's sister Helen, Colleen Moore, Bob Goldie. Ye Editor Harry Burns and wife, Lon Anger, Lew Cody, Mack Sennett, A. W. Strauss, Buster Collyer, Marie Prevost, Rufus LeMaire, Milton Golden, Countess Hauftman, Jack Fisher, Owna Brown, Arthur Unger. of "Variety," Alan Hale, Doc Martin and his wife, Louella Parsons, Henry Lahrman and Arthur Wenzel. Cecil Hall's name has about become a synonym of "success." When it comes to anything appertaining to the goodies of one's innards or the jazz thrill that sends one home to happy dreams, the name of Hall seems to work like a talisman. Hall's Chinese Cafe is fast forging to the front as one of Los Angeles' leading night-club pavilions of joy. Some of Movieland's big shots make the Chinese Cafe a weekly resort for their softer hours. His Collegians orchestra boasts no equal in their peculiar line and their dance music is a sure cure for sleepy feet. His Chinese food is fast attaining an unexampled local vogue; it's a case of once a customer, always a customer. Last Saturday night Dickey Kilby, the original "Whoo Poo Poo Doo" baby, entertained with his cute bunch of offerings. He is undoubtedly the greatest five-year-old kid in the pictures and is under the personal management of Gus Edwards. Don't fail to drop in at the Chinese Cafe; you'll get the treat of your life, and see how nicely "Big Boy" Charley Hammer treats you. Get the habit. By ED. O'M ALLEY We get a wholesome twinge out of the inveterate beefing of talkingpicture antagonists. One can doubt truth to be a liar, but one can not doubt that the more these beefers vibrate their tonsils, the more popular "King Phono" becomes. Now, ye blustering malcontents, get this into your noodles; the vocal upstart — as ye would have it — has come to park indefinitely in the realms of dear old Moviedom. The last of Cinema's minions to drop into the fold is Master Comedy, and he has dropped in with a lazy thud that bids fair to make his squatter sovereignty a permanent fixture. "King Phono's" greatest achievement in the funny-audibles line dated from that momentous day Harold Lloyd crossed the Rubicon. Lloyd, the monarch of all pantomimists, and from the moment his tonal quirks brought a new medium of joy to the screen, he immeasurably overtopped the highest flights of his silent career. Charlie Chaplin and Lon Chaney remain sulking in their tents, but who cares? Unless they perk up and vibrate the larynx they are sure to settle into a state of unsung desuetude. LLOYD ALL BY HIMSELF Lloyd has the single-harness field to himself; not so, however, with the team babies, the big trio of whom are Moran and Mack, Clark and McCullough and Laurel and Hardy. Each team stands out in its peculiar line of humor. The younger folks laugh consumedly and almost continually at Laurel and Hardy who, at times, fairly riot in an orgy of slapstick nonsense. Laurel specializes at moments on that wistful smirk of his that finally saddens into a gently-blubbering crying spell. It's his tour de force and is always greeted with cyclonic mirth. Old "Grease Ball" Hardy accelerates the laughter by gazing on these brimy banquets with the gross, goodnatured smile of a country boob. They are a sure-fire duo of mirth provokers enjoying a vogue that is steadily on the increase. Moran and Mack are the passive behemoths of comedy. When old "King Phono" burst from his swaddling clothes, he placed his hands on M. and M. and rumbled "you're it." All they have to do is to sit and talk and the auditors will guffaw their heads off. It's not so much a case of what they say, but how they say it — especially the unctuous "Big Boy," Mack. We are not prone to the belief that they will ever duplicate their hilariously rib-tickling first record on the phonograph. However, youth and adult alike will always laugh at Mack's hookworm delivery and herein lies the team's touchstone of success. OH YOU McCULLOUGH BOY! And now for Clark and McCulIough, who, to our way of thinking, are the cleverest of the three pairs. We get little kick out of Laurel and Hardy; laugh frequently at Moran and Mack, but with Clark and McCulIough are ready to die of joyous facial twinges when the old celluloid is twirling. McCulIough is undoubtedly the most diverting of all talkie humorists in the gross-comedy line. He is in a class by himself. One never tires of his lighted cigar-butt byplay, and he flashes his funny stuff so fast that he almost asphyxiates his auditors with uncontrolled mirth. All his nonsensical plots are darbs in their way and are just chock full of meaty situations. We still look back with a merry twinkle in our eye at Clark and McCullough's twirl at montebank doctors. Tramping through the sticks they find that a certain doctor is not home. He lives on a wellfrequented highway. The twain throw bunches of shingle nails on the road. Many punctured tires bring them many pleas for help. BEST COMEDY OF ALL Then the two comedians, posing as expert specialists, swing their victims onto the physician's electric chair, each of the poor devils being compelled to shout "ah, ah" several times. McCullough's work in this film is by far the funniest we have ever run up with in the talkies. Verily, we say unto you that these three comedy teams are one of the talkies latest and most signal triumphs and all are going over with the force of a tenth wave. JUDGE MARSHALL F. McCOMB PUTS HIS O. K. ON California law makes it compulsory for any contract made with a minor — 18 years or under in the case of girls — to be officially approved by a superior court judge before it may become binding. This legal measure protects the minors and likewise the studios seeking to employ them. As a result of this law, Judge Marshall F. McComb found his desk in the Superior Court of Los Angeles surrounded by a bevy of 40 beautiful girls recently selected with 60 others to appear in the dance ensembles of "The Golden Calf," FoxMovietone production now being filmed. The young ladies, who, because of their beautiful faces, figures and unusual dancing ability, made the pilgrimage to court, included Lee Auburn, Consuella de Los Angeles, Miriam Hellman, Bo-Peep Karlin, Margaret La Marr, Dorothy McNamee, Catherine Navarro, Joan Navarro, Georgia Pembleton, Beverly Royde, Emily Renard, Hazel Sperling, Mary Lansing Vee Maules, Joan Christenson, Gloria Wayle, Virginia Pierce, Catherine Brown, Ruth Trais, Marbeth Wright, Frances Hopkins, Katherine Gordon, Betty Gordon, Gwen Keats, Jean De Carva, Theresa Allen, Peggy Beck, Patsey Moore, Betty Halsey, Dorothy Kritzer, Pearl Lavelle, Barbara Lavelle, Bee Stephens, Theresa Barber, Rosina May, Betty Fox, Rose Lee, Lucille Muller, Dorothy Dahl and Jean Lajon. All the girls have calves which measure exactly 13 inches in circumference, with ankles seven and a quarter inches and feet nine inches long. This is the ideal demanded from the models who pose for the artist, Jack Mulhall, in "The Golden Calf," in which Sue Carol is the model. El Brendel, Marjorie White, Richard Keene and Paul Page are also prominent in the cast. Millard Webb is the director.