Motion Picture Classic (Jul-Dec 1928)

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MC-7 Conscience Doth Make Howards {Continued from page 21) there was no provender in sight other than negative and film cans. So, as hunger is one of the two primal impulses which must be obeyed, they called in Bill Howard. Bill had been dreaming of a beef stew for several weeks. Somehow or other the mob raised a hundred dollar bankroll and took a chance on Howard's salesmanship. Frustrating the sentries stationed at all strategic points to guard unwary executives from this very thing. Bill chiseled his way into the presence of the mighty. "High-pressure salesmanship," they call it, and by dint of speed, pressure and prayer, Bill put the squeeze on the wisenheimers for ten grand. Cash, no checks. And that was positively the last occasion upon which he found it necessary to stifle the still, small voice of conscience. Things don't always go from bad to worse. Sometimes the fairy stories come true. More especially if you are Irish. So eventually Bill got a job with a megaphone in close proximity. His own special leprechawn got to work in his behalf, and sure enough, more by sheer luck than good management. Bill got a crack at a big picture. You remember "The Thundering Herd." It came close to being an "epic." Perhaps it would have been had Howard handled it the full distance. But it was half completed when Bill was summoned to rescue Paramount from its dilemma. ■A Stampede of Luck "nTHE Thundering Herd" made a big noise in production circles, and when Howard followed through with more good ones, there was a clamor for his services. To date, the only pictures Bill cares about remembering are "Gigolo," "The Main Event," "His Count'ry," which has also been christened "The Ship Comes In," "The River Pirate," and, of course, "White Gold." Howard says that never again will he make a photodrama to equal "White Gold" — and the producers don't care if he doesn't. For with all its sweep of drama, its exquisite subtlety, and all the rare qualities that made it fairly blaze with a flame of genius seldom met in filmdom, the box-office gold the picture made was so white as to be almost anaemic. Artistry starves in the cinema while "Clancy's Yom Kippur" proves a merry movie money mill. It is rather discouraging to anyone with a less fighting heart than that possessed by William K. Howard. Since those baby days back in St. Mary's, Bill has grown to something under six feet. His face is bronzed by the sun. His hair is thick, and straight and black. He has big ears and a wide mouth which frequently stretches into a slow, expansive smile. But the most impressive feature of his Celtic face are the eyes, first remarked by women thirty odd years ago. They are grey-blue, — or blue-grey — or blue, or grey, or black, according to his mood. And they are set at an odd angle beneath terrifying thatches of eyebrow. When gay with laughter, they fairly chuckle. When "melancholy claims him for her own," they are dark as sea-depths on a cloudy day, a fringe of sooty lashes drooping over them like some sombre curtain. A Paradoxicsil Personality pToR Bill hasn't what one might ten "an even disposition." His is a natun| of high-lights and shadows. He is ir clined to be intense, and becomes terribl enthusiastic over persons and things. Liki] most of his type he is susceptible to wc men — especially beautiful women. Althougi his worship is bestowed on a passing idee|l rather than upon the particular girl whq for the moment, represents it. His wif|| understands all this, and stands ready tf receive him as a mother a bruised boy In fact, this boy-like quality of Bill' is probably his greatest single asset. Th exuberant enthusiasm, counterbalanced b; a deep, but child-like despair — the apparent] sincerity — the earnestness of purpose — thi faith. All these things coupled with certain slight cynicism, a fox-like shrewdness, gained perchance in the trick schoo of salesmanship, and a basic understanding! of what will go and what will not in mo tion pictures. And if these characteristics! appear paradoxical — so is Bill Howard. Maturity will always lend a hand to youth, though fighting tooth and nail the( rivalry of equal age. Thus Howard has not yet encountered the green eyes of professional jealousy to any great extent. He is "the boy" — the bright boy — the whitehaired boy. In Hollywood, Howard is more discussed than von Stroheim. And, the verdict is always in his favor. If, hi has an enemy, that one is fearful to fighti him in the open, for a cause against Bill would find few listeners and fewer sym pathizers. At present he is in the way of being something of an idol. Which is a very dreadful thing. For idols have an amazing manner of developing feet of clay — of crumbling away to nothingness. Dangerous Success r^ ESPITE a certain amount of dash in both . his pictures and his personality, Howard is handicapped by caution. His speech and his work impress one with his possession of a great idea — and his present inability to find just the right words, or. pictures, for its expression. There is a^ hesitancy. Perhaps Bill no longer has the hunger urge that rode him in those hardbitten days of "Hysterical History." The Pagan cavalier of "White Gold" may be getting religion in his well-fed life. If this be so, he will go down in Hollywood history as one of the Great Disappointments. But considering him agai. , and remembering those shadowed eyes — the sensitive, strong line of his mouth — confidence returns. And with it the consciousness that his type cannot be lulled to mediocrity by the sun of adulation, or the lotus of financial security. After all, there is more than a sarcastic reason for reference to Cecil B. DeMille as "God." In matters motion-pictorial DeMille is seldom wrong. And his confidence in Howard is such that Bill holds a contract enabling him to count over some thirty-five hundred-dollar bills from his weekly pay envelope. Which isn't bad for a boy. Even a white-haired boy. Even a white-haired boy in Hollywood. And back in St. Mary's they must at least admit that there arc more ways of striking oil than by drilling a well. 72