Motion Picture Classic (Jul-Dec 1928)

•jfF^P^:' The ^>J{^omeCoving Home-W^recker Thy His Haver %Jamps for Trofessional Turposes Only S HE is the personification of all the cuties from Cleopatra to Aimee Semple McPherson. She looks like Lorelei — botn Lee and legendary. She has the naughtiest eyes and the most alluring figure in the world. And — She lives with her mother, prefers milk to champagne, and spends most of her evenmgs at home brushing her prize Persians. Phyllis Haver. Champ home-girl of the screen. In movies she breaks 'em, m private life she makes *em. Dangerous doll of a dozen celluloid triangles, the girl who made the one-piece bathing suit what it should be today — is just a home-girl. Even wives like her. Phyllis was just fifteen when Mack Sennett signed her for his comedies. She started her devastating career adorning the beaches. She helped make Hollywood famous — she and Marie Prevost in those abbreviated swim-suits that never got wet. Her picture, on post-cards, went the rounds of the towns. If she had happened a decade or two sooner, cigars would have been named after her. As it was, she had her share of fame long before she was twenty. She was the Queen of the Cuties. "Pretty Baby" might have been written to her and undoubtedly was sung to her. The blondest of blonde hair, the bluest of blue eyes and the most luscious of curves — topped off with a smile guaranteed to melt the hardest heart and unloosen the tightest purse-strings. Not a King Collector AND what did this movie beauty do with this personal J^\^ fortune — cop off a king or a count, marry a millionaire, promote her own company.^ She did not. She stayed home with mother, minded her own business, saved her salary, invested her savings wisely — and waited. She BY CAROL JOHNSTON' <i'a|rc^~ knew — her mirror must have told her — that she had one of the most enticing make-ups since Helen of Troy — that girls with less equipment than ^^ hers had re-made maps and unmade magnates. But Phyllis — here's the great, big joke on Nature — Phyllis wasn't that kind of a girl at heart. She was — wonder of wonders ! — sober and practical. She was, besides, an artist before she was a beauty. She could think and she could act. So — she bided her time. Acting wasn't considered quite nice in those dear dead days. Pretty girls made pleasant faces and tossed their curls and flounced their skirts, but they didn't act. Heavens, no! And Phyllis wanted to be an actress. Meanwhile, with Marie she went right on posing atop wave-splashed rocks, tilted on tiny toosies, stretching dainty arms to the great, big cynical ocean. Magazines and newspapers continued to court her; millionaires and movie public smiled at her — and she smiled back in that irresistible way of hers. But — she'd go home and say: "Mother, I'm tired of it. When will I get my chance.'"' Phyllis Goes Dramatic IT CAME one day. Some girls might not have recognized it as "My chance." Phyllis did. It was just what she had been waiting for. A real acting part. Not a heroine; not even a lead. But a r6le you could get into. The wronged girl in "The Christian" — pathetic, shabby, pitiful. Great dramatic possibilities — yes. Hardly the part you'd pick for a famous beauty about -to graduate. But Phyllis grabbed it. And played it — and wow! She went over. She bridged the gap from beauty to actress in one gracefi'l leap. I don't think there is another case like it in picture history. That leap alone would make Phyllis unique in Hollywood annals — without the eyes and the {Continued on page 8j) 51