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58 IT TOOK NINE TAILORS
covered wearing an elegant dressing gown and getting shaved by my valet, had been cut. At that point Father leaned over and asked when I would appear.
"Very soon now," I assured him.
A reel went by and no Menjou. Again Father leaned over and inquired when he would see his son in this nonsensical drama. At that very moment I appeared, dancing with the heroine but wearing a mask.
"There I am!" I hissed.
But by the time Father turned back to the screen, I had whirled the young lady into a crowd of other dancers, and he was never sure whether he saw me or not. That was the last time I appeared in the picture. My part had been scissored out and was on the cutting-room floor.
I tried to explain this to Father, but he was irreconcilable. As we left the theater, he attracted considerable attention by denouncing the acting business and motion pictures in particular. Fortunately he was speaking in French. The gist of his remarks was that I had to get out of a business that could eliminate me so easily; I must get into something stable— a solid, substantial business with a future.
"But Father," I protested. "This is exactly that kind of business. Didn't you notice all the people in that audience? They paid good money to see that picture."
"I counted them all," he answered in French. "And there were more people on the screen than there were in the audience. If you run a restaurant that way, you go broke!"