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THE FAITH HEALER 79
Los Angeles. Hollywood, as a place to live, was still considered rather rural, and horse operas were actually being filmed in the outskirts of Beverly Hills.
My wife and I found a small apartment on Parkview Street, which sounded like a classy address but was strictly third rate. We lived in an old frame house that had been converted into small furnished apartments. By this time we had only $900 and my wardrobe. I wasn't sure that I could get a job in Hollywood, but I was determined to economize and stay as long as our money held out, for California had obviously become the best place to pursue a picture career.
About three o'clock one morning during the first week we were in town there was an earthquake. I'm a very light sleeper, so as soon as the bed began to shake I was sitting up, wide awake. The whole building was shaking. For a minute I thought a truck had run off the street and into the house. But things kept right on shaking. Doors rattled; windows rattled; suddenly I realized it was an earthquake. My wife and I jumped out of bed, found our dressing robes, and ran out into the street. Things finally quieted down and we went back to bed, but I couldn't sleep a wink that night wondering whether that was going to be a typical evening in California.
As soon as we were settled I began figuring out the best way to find a job. I knew several actors whose advice I could ask but no directors or producers or people who had jobs to offer. We went to call on Fatty Arbuckle, whom I had known in New York before World War I. He was living on West Adams Street in one of those magnificent rococo mansions of that period. The place looked as big as Grand Central Station, and Arbuckle was throwing a lavish party. We met Buster Keaton, Joe Schenck, Ford Sterling, the chief of the Keystone Cops, Mack Sennett, Mabel Normand, and many others. Somebody asked me to a poker game a couple of nights later to which several directors had been invited.
"What kind of a poker game?" I inquired.