Motion Picture Classic (Jan-Jun 1929)

Does Success Change Them? Tradespeople who wouldn't have trusted him for a necktie now beg him to open an account. Even his family is polite to him. With the whole world changed, it would be remarkable if a player himself remained exactly the same." Naturally, this sudden right-about-face of the world brings bitterness to some sensitive souls. Menjou, Gilbert, Barrymore, have all become more cynical as they became more successful. "The American public raises idols for the fun of knocking them over" cried Valentino at the height of his popularity. "Vou lofe us ver' muchwhile we amuse you," smiled Pola Negri with wry lips. There is Gary Cooper, for instance. Two years ago Gary was sitting with the down-and-outers on a bench in Pershing Square, Los Angeles, keeping one eye warily out for a cop who might ask him whether he had a job or not. tic had no job, nor any prospect of a job. The leanness which he had brought to the city from a Montana ranch had become the gauntness of missed meals. Behold Gary, a few months later, by a sudden twist of fate a Famous-Players Western star! In the two years since he signed his contract there has been little outward change in Gary Cooper. He eats more regularly, but he lives very quietly with his father and mother in a small rented bungalow. The roadhouses and gay restaurants where picture people gather do not often know that tall, rangy figure. Movie star or not, this ex-cowboy will not dress the part or act the part. Gary says little, but one gathers that his views on life have changed somewhat since he became successful; and that oddly haunting smile of his is a trifle more ironic than when he watched the world from his park bench. {Continued from page 21) Then literally overnight, she became famous as the Blonde Whom Gentlemen Prefer. What has this sudden change of fortune done to Ruth? Has it turned that exquisite little golden head of hers? "Ruth has developed an absolute talent for luxury," a friend of hers tells me. "She might have been born with a diamond bracelet in her mouth. She might always have worn orchids and ermine. In the few short months since she got her break she has adapted herself perfectly to an existence de luxe." It is really amazing how with stardom seems to come a taste for antique Chinese ivories, the knowledge of how to order a formal dinner for twenty covers, and many 1 They talked for half an hour of the old days, and she went away assuring him that his break would come. It was not till later that she discovered that Charles Farrell had made a huge success of his work in "Seventh Heaven" while she was abroad and was now a star. Success has changed the make of' Charlie Farrell's car but not his hat-size. Richard Arlen is another person since he began to get big parts and good newspaper notices. He looks years younger, and he has learned to smile. Success has changed him from a bitterly unhappy boy to a happy one — success and Joby. ' And Jobyna Ralston has a poise and charm that shy, little country Joby did not have when she became Harold Lloyd's leading woman five years ago. But perhaps that is just growing up. r There is a lady named Belmont — first name Gladys — who, in the eyes of Richard Dix as "Redskin," is fair and fairer even than was Portia. In other words, she is the only thing in the desert country that isn't dusty k From Study to Studio THEN there is Charlie Rogers, yanked suddenly by chance from a college classroom into the glare of the kleigs. Success has not changed Charlie's idea that the world is a pretty nice place. Life has always treated Charlie royally. He simply exchanged college celebrity for movie fame. After two years of ardent fan letters, interviews, praise from the critics and attention from all the ladies, attached, semi-detached and unattached in Hollywood, Charles Rogers is as eager, enthusia.stic.and excited over his work and his fan mail as he was the first day at the studio. He has even managed to remain a trifle shy. Making the mazdas in Charlie's case has resulted in a satisfying of a previously inhibited taste for fine raiment. Only the most expensive tailors in town have his patronage now, and he returned from a recent trip to New York with four trunkfuls of the very latest things in What the Well Dressed Juvenile Will Wear If He Has The Price. For eighteen years Ruth Taylor was a daughter of a family of medium means. For two years she was a player on a comedy lot with a pay envelope as slim as her figure. 68 other talents that go with large incomes. "I think," said Mary Pickford the other day," that picture people are ■wonderful! Most of the stars have never had any social training. Their success comes suddenly, their whole lives are changed and yet they make fewer mistakes in adapting themselves to the new order of things than other people would make in the same situation. Fm proud of my profession.' " Sometimes success has a democratic influence on its victims. There are Sue Carrol and June Col Iyer, for instance, two society girls who have left a life of country house parties and other Four Hundred festivities, and in the space of one short year become working girls. Their success has changed them from pampered and bored debutantes into earnest little troupers who work late at night and get up early in the morning to go on location without a murmur. If a year ago either of them had been asked to live in a tent on a California desert, and eat stew out of a tin plate, it is fairly certain that they would have recoiled in horror. Charlie Farrell's success was slow in coming. In those years of extra work he was shabby, but always smiling. A woman who had known him then returned from a trip to Europe and visited the Fox lot. She saw Charlie standing on a set, still shabby, still smiling and went over to speak to him. Miss Beau Brummel F Clara Bow had never won a screen part as a result of a beauty contest, the chances are that she would be keeping house in some flat in Brooklyn, with a trip to the movie theater on Saturday night for her only pleasure. Clara's fame has meant education to her. The crude little school girl of eight years ago would never have grown into the finished woman of the world Clara is today without it. Success gave Valentino the kingdoms of this world, and death at the age of thirtytwo. If he had remained in his native Italy, following his training as a horticulturist, he would without a doubt be living today. It made of a poor Italian immigrant boy a great gentleman. Perhaps some of his manner was a heritage from his Latin forebears^ But there was an astonishing difference in the Valentino of "The P'our Horsemen," timid, crude, awkward, and the Valentino of "The Son of the Sheik" suave, polished, absolutely master of himself. He had become what the world expected him to be. "I laugh sometimes when I read what they say," Rudie remarked once, pointing to an article extolling his looks. "Why, there's a Valentino on every street corner in Italy." He himself did not realize the truth. Success and all that goes with it had changed Rudolph Valentino from an ordinary goodlooking young Latin to a man of remarkable physical beauty and grace. It is not the first time that the assurance of success has changed the faces of the stars. When Bill Boyd was a struggling extra man, sitting year after year at cafe tables in mob sets, his failure was written on his face. "That boy? Oh, that's poor Bill Boyd," someone once said in my hearing. "He's a nice fellow, but he'll never succeed." And looking at his rather indefinite weak blond good-looks one was inclined to agree. Since "The Volga Boatman" the ineffectual looking Bill has actually acquired a jutting lower jaw and the air of a conqueror. Success has not changed Bill. It's just made another man of him. The alchemy of fame works miracles. It turns crude little high school flapjjers into the opulent and charmed beings of another [Continued on page 71) P i