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Comic Conkling
By MARY McAUBREY
pute our rancher, so let's go," bantered one.
"Get him to tell you about his flock of bees he's fattening up for Christmas," called another, as the group vanished into the dressing-rooms.
"Are you a rancher as well as a comedian?" I asked.
"Sure," laughed Mr. Conklin. "I work at comedy and play at ranching. That is a fine balance, for you cant work at comedy all the time — it wears you out, and ranching is the greatest play there is."
Sitting on the steps of the big yellow street car, marked "The Wait In Vain Transit Co.," which figured in the new picture, the little comedian whose antics have occasioned thousands of laughs during his years on the screen told me all about his ranch, a hundred miles north of the city.
There are 320 acres, with 65 in citrus fruit; there is a wonderful view across the desert, with its fascinating lights and shadows, that lures one into its very heart. You cant get away once you succumb to its spell ! There are several thousand turkeys, and then there arc the bees !
^t"!
Till-: forest fires raging in the mountains back of Pasadena flung a curtain of smoke over tiie valley, making exterior camera work a difficult matter in the naiiy studios in Hollywood and Los Angeles.
Out on the Fox studio lot a g r o u p of jilayers were waiting for the haze to lift long enough to finish their scene.
"I should say that motion pictures make the greatest little patience exerciser in the w o r 1 d," remarked Chester Conklin. "You nuist learn not tccworry over delays in this business or you would go crazy. There's no hope, boys." he continued, with his mild blue eyes fastened on the grayish sky, "there'll be no more sunshine today."
"No one will dis
1^
We forgot all about pic tures and interviews and forest fires and overcast skies, while he told me many interesting things regarding the habits of the little creatures, lie finds them an absorbing subject and is collecting a library on bee culture. Recently he had to move his bee stands nearer to the honey flow — meaning the orchards, for in sea.son these tireless workers labor so hard that they wear themselves out ; in fact, they frequently die of exhaustion.
Suddenly, while talking, Mr. Conklin took off the paintbrush mustache which has formed a veritable trademark for this comedian, and he was so completely changed that I should never have recognized him.
"Why," I gasped, "you look years younger !"
{Continued on page 97)
Chester Conklin works at comedy and plays at ranching. He owns 320 acres and devotes the space to citrus fruit, turkeys and — ^bees. Honestly!
(Ninctytwo)