Motion Picture Classic (Jan-Dec 1920)

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^ /> ^ Imagine the "male vampire" of the screen being a New Englanderl A 1 1 h o of French descent, (his real name is Cote), Cody's home town is Waterville, Me., a few miles from the home of Dustin and William Farnum. He soon forsook Maine for the stage YOL' may, perhaps, think it strange that the original "He Vamp" star of the screen should have come from New England. And then, again, you may not. It all depends on whether you have come from there yourself, or on whether you still live there, or on whether you have never been there at all. Undoubtedly, there are people who are "un-profoundly" affected by their environments : for instance. Lew Cody. "Dustin Farnum used to live within a few miles of Waterville. Me., which is my home," he remarked. (We were, by the way, at iimcheon at the Alexandria and some moving picture notable could be seen at almost every table). "We often get together," he went on, "and talk over the scenes and people we used to know. Of course, we didn't live there at the same time and we didn't really know the same people, but that is a mere detail. In that neighborhood, the scenes and the people seem, somehow, always the same ; the same yesterday, today and forever!" There, then, you have the material for a tragedy by Ibsen. Think of it! Lew Cody, whose real name is Cote, a boy of French descent, living in a place where, if one can believe some of our best fiction, people take their sins and their virtues very seriously and where marriages are made in Heaven for life and for population! He could read French, too ; gracefully written tales of graceful love affairs, sincere while they lasted, lightly undertaken and gracefully dropped. Why, he might have committed suicide — or matrimony — before he was eighteen, with vine leaves in his hair ,ind all that sort of thing. But instead of that, he did something that could never have occurred to a character of Ibsen ; lightly and without any particular brain storm, he decided to go away. "One afternoon, after a whole day spent reciting poetry at my.self, I went to my father and told him that I was going to go on the stage. '.'\ll right!' my father .said. "When are you going?' Of course, that was all wrong. He should have objected violently. But he must have had too keen a sense of drama, himself, to do such a commonplace thing. Instead, he staked me to a wardrobe and I went to New York and got my start almost at once." This was with Mary Mannering in "The Stubborness of Oeraldine." Then came melodrama with .\. H. Woods: such plays as "Fast 1 ifc in New York" and "The Power of Money," an ( Eighteen >