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Robert Montgomery, too, knows by experience the tragedy of having to play a role at a time when tragedy is close. Worse, he had to act light-hearted.
Lew Cody's contribution to Hollywood courage was in sticking to an old friend— a famous movie star— whom the world had turned against.
Richard Arlen, too, knows that the picture must go on— even in the face of personal injury. During a picture he was badly injured— but stuck to his job.
HEROISM
ing back to the scene of tumult. But both would have been too late to check the charge and the escape of the other maddened beasts, if it had not been for the glorious pluck and coolness of that one film star.
The trainer and the firemen burst into the enclosure, to find Beery standing carelessly among the elephants. The giant beasts were kneeling — one of the tricks the trainer had taught Beery. Their murderous panic had been checked by the fearless presence and the calm orders of the man they had learned to like and to trust.
This was no screen stunt; no bid for publicity. It was the deed of a man who gaily staked his own life against big odds, in an effort to save the lives of others.
HOLLYWOOD is alive with "extras," all eagerly waiting for their chance; all willing to risk everything for that chance. Here is a tale of wholesale courage, performed by some of them in the effort to make good :
A shipwreck was to be staged. At the climax of the wreck the passengers and crew were supposed to dive singly and in groups over the side of a sinking yacht.
A hundred extras signed up for this diving job. They waived possible damage claims. One and all, they declared solemnly that they were expert swimmers. Therefore very few lifeguards were engaged to prevent disaster to such of the divers as might get cramps or find difficulty in keeping afloat.
As a -matter of fact, nearly half of those hundred extras, did not know how to swim a single stroke.
Most of the others were anything but the "expert swimmers" they had claimed to be. But the whole hundred played tag with death, by plunging into seventy feet of water; and had made false statements in order to do so.
They were looking for their big chance. Mere risk of drowning could not stop them when that shining goal seemed in view. By some miracle, the few real swimmers and the fewer lifeguards managed to rescue the floundering victims ; and thus to avert wholesale tragedy. But the courage of the hundred extras was none the less amazing.
THE water-hazard seems to have scant terrors for fearless Hollywood. Dick Grace, the "stunt-flyer," was so anxious to outdo himself and to win success when "The Lost Squadron" was filmed, that he crashed his plane into the ocean.
The impact might readily have killed him. He took still greater risk of not being able to extricate himself from the machine, under water; and of drowning, pinned there and powerless. But gaily he took that double danger, and by rare luck he survived.
A "prop man," working in the "Broken Wing" company, was less fortunate in a flying venture.
The prop man never before had been in a plane. He knew nothing about aeronautics. But he volunteered to work the smudge pots for a stunt-flyer who was doing a spectacular bit of work in the picture.
The pilot lost control of the plane and it went into a
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