Motion Picture Classic (Jan-Jun 1929)

^ The Native Son Also Rises William Bake well of Hollywood Will Always Remember Himself as The Young Man Who Knew Coolidge By DOROTHY MANNERS S' O I came into his office and there sat Griffith. 'Well,' he said, 'you're the boy Belle Bennett told me was a good actor?' My knees were knocking like a couple of castanets because it was the first time I had seen this great director to his face. But I managed to stammer, 'I hope so, sir.' "He sat there looking at me for a minute. Then he said, 'I want you to do a little scene from the picture for me.' Just like that. Right off the bat. No test. No preliminary rehearsal. No nothing. 'Now,' he went on, 'pretend I am your old mother and you are bringing me a birthday present. This book will do.' I managed to walk over and take hold of the book he handed to me. But my hand shook so I must have looked like I had a dash of the palsy. But I kept telling myself, 'Billy, this is your big chance. You'll never get another one like it. Griffith! His big picture, 'The Battle of the Sexes!' You've got to make the grade.' "I tried to forget that this was just an office and that I was scared to death. I looked at Griffith and tried to imagine that he was really my mother, but that was kinda hard. Anyway, I did the scene and when I got through Griffith said, 'Well, that's pretty good.' I guess he thought my quaking voice and knocking knees were emotion when all along it was just plain old-fashioned, scared, stagefright. But I got the part," said William Bakewell, aged twenty, "and I guess that's all that matters." In Quest of Confirmation BILLY, who was slightly out of breath from his dramatic recital, perched himself back on the edge of the desk in the publicity department and eyed me questioningly. These uplifted glances had been as much a part of his recital as the rapid flow of words that changed key rather unexpectedly when he got into the exciting parts. The words spoke for themselves, but the glances timidly questioned as to whether or not I thought he had done right. If I had been in his place, wouldn't I have felt the same way about it.' He seemed to have a pointed and friendly desire to take me through his experiences with Ltuiaini Brown him, sharing the suspense, the 'thrill and the contract. His foot swung restlessly back and forth. With that can't-sit-still type of nervousness he did odd things with his hands. He alternately transferred them from his pockets to an akimbo posture. Now and then he would clasp them tightly behind him. As though in accompaniment, his facial expression kept pace with smiles, frowns, grimaces and other moods that lighted up the high-spots of his first interview. "It might be a good idea to play up the angle that Billy is a Hollywood boy who has made good in the movies," suggested a lady press agent. "Billy was born here and it is almost as hard to find a native of Hollywood as it is to find a native of New York." "Yes," said Billy, getting onto the idea right away, "I was born right here and went to school. The school that I attended is called Harvard Military Academy and I was graduated from there in 1925." A Drilling Past SOMETHING tells me that though Billy has never given interviews before, he has read them. He was a stickler for detail, names, dates and facts. He added that he had been more than active in Harvard Military Academy's dramatic club and that soon after he was graduated, in 1925, he set right out in pursuit of his favorite profession. "I went over to the Paramount Studio and tried to get extra work. It seems that no matter how big may have been the parts you have played in dramatics at school, it doesn't mean a thing around the studios. The casting director told me I would have to start in at extra work. {Continued on page 84) 55