Motion Picture Classic (Jan-Jun 1929)

Confessions of the Stars {Continued from page 21) had no formal education. \'ou pick up a lot here and there, of course, by contacts and experiences, but never quite what you get from conventional schooling. I've always thought that maybe, some day — but I guess not, now. "Anyway, I 'd heard of a man who worked in pictures. His name, they said, was David Wark Griffith. That was all he meant to me at the time. A man who worked in pictures by the name of Somebody. I had no idea of his real importance. And it probably wouldn't have mattered to me if I had. I may as well confess here that the one thing, the one asset, I have is nerve. Plenty. It has kept me going when all else has failed. If anyone tells me they will do anything for me, or if I hear of anyone doing things for someone else, I horn right in on the party. And I think, 'Well, why not? If they promise so and so, or if they are doing things for others, why not for me?' That's my motif in life. Calling John's Bluff "TT reminds me of John McJ_ Cormack, the singer. I met him one night at a party in 'Frisco. I was strutting my stuff and he asked me if I had ever taken vocal lessons. I said no. He said, 'You should.' I said 'All right, but who from?' He said, 'I'll give you some lessons when I'm in Los Angeles.' He probably forget the words the moment they left his lips. I didn't. When he came to our city, I presented myself on his doorstep and I took vocal lessons. I was terrible and he thought so, too, I suppose, but I stuck it. He'd said he would. "Well, to get back: I went over and asked for Mr. Grififith. He saw me and I told him I'd heard how he made stars out of people. I had heard, I said, about Blanche Sweet and the Gish girls. And a lot of others. I wanted to know what I must do to be made a star, too. "He was probably amused. Whatever his reaction, he signed a contract with me that very day. And he looked at me and said, 'We must find you a name to fit you. Let me think. Bessie. Bessie, love.' "For quite a time things looked pretty slick to me. I began to earn money. Then more and better money. Big money, or so it seemed. "I bought a ranch, a swanky car, furniture, clothes, all the things I felt a young person in my position should have. "People kept on discovering me. I am about the most discovered person in pictures. And I've lived through several sorts of incarnations. And of course I believed that each discovery would mean something. Would give me my big break. They never did. Things have always been bad until now. Awfully bad. Discovered Again GRIF'FITH discovered me first, of course. I played gingham girls with roses and' gingham loves. Nothing much happened. I just kept on while others climbed over my head and made big names. "Then Tom Ince discovered me. I played in a picture with Mrs. Wallace Reid. A picture in which I took dope and lived 72 hand in hand with death and horror. I thought, 'This will put me over with the well-known bang. For now they'll see that I am one big tragedian.' They didn't. Nothing happened. "Along came Famous Players with 'The Song and Dance Man.' I had a dance routine in that and once again I thought that this discovery — Bessie Love as a gifted danseuse — would lead to something big. And again — nothing happened. "Nothing happened but this: the tide began to turn. "Money was scarce. It grew scarcer, The awful ogres of my childhood days began It has always been Bessie Love's desire to play something more than the gingham girls she first portrayed. And this ambition came true with "The Broadway Melody. to leer at me from forgotten corners. The pictures I made were of no particular consequence. I was going down hill. And I was going with a sickening rapidity. I knew it. "I began to lose my ranch. I began to lose my town house, my town car and other valuables. It looked very much as if Bessie Love was about to do a fade -back to Juanita Horton. "They talk about breaks. I don't know. I rather think I don't believe in them. I think I blame myself for everything that has ever happened to me. I look back now and see what I might have done, a lot I might have left undone. Parts were offered to me and I wouldn't play them. I wanted to break away from the ingenue. I wanted so badly to do something forceful and unforgettable. There didn't seem to be any place for me. "Finally, a short time back, I went into vaudeville with the idea of acquiring some stage training. I thought it very likely that I was through in pictures. I figured that I was almost certain to be able to get some stage work. And I believe that you have to know your job if you want to get anywhere, no matter what the job may be. "And then came 'The Broadway Mel ody.' It's my big break, at last. It's mv ship come in. The ogres aren't leering at me now. They may again. I have sense enough to realize that no one stays on the crest of the wave forever, but oooh! while he does, it 's great. " I've never been in love in all my life. "Nor is it a case of 'Mother Knows Best.' My mother is the type who takes me, life, love and work very casually. At our lowest ebb she used to say to me, 'Times will change. They always do,' If I had wanted to marry I could have done so with no more than a wave of the hand and a 'God bless you' from her. I could still. I have never wanted to. "I've thought I was in love here and there, now and again. For an hour or a day it would be tragic, terrible. I 've even had moments so grim and desperate that I've thought, 'Suicide is preferable to this.' But the point is that I have forgotten, today, what 'this' was. "When you are really in love you never get over it. I know enough about love to know that. " I think I 've worked too hard. I haven't had time to give to other emotions. The pursuit of the dollar has drained my heart and brain and hand. And when they've come to me, these other emotions, they have bloomed and faded too rapidly. Aigrettes and a Little Anguish THE one that came the nearest to reality happened to me some years ago. I had been thinking, 'This is the genuine thing,' One night he broke an engagement with me. He had to work — he said. That was all right with me. Some other boy took me to a cabaret. And there was the gentleman who had had to work. With him was a lady. The lady wore aigrettes. I never saw him again. I suffered, but I was through. And that would be my procedure now. I -would probably suffer, but I would be through. I cannot stand a double-crosser. And more than all, a trivial one. " I believe that I am very much the same caliber as Hank in 'The Broadway Melody,' I know her. I would have done what she did, given the same circumstances. And I know what she would do with her life, taking it at the point where the picture ends. She would have kept on working in the sticks. She might have seen her sister again, by some arrangement, but she would never have seen the fellow again. She loved him too much. Some day she would marry. Because she was, first of all, a practical person and would know that it is not well for woman — or man — to live alone. She was a jolly little soul and she would need companionship even though love and romance were behind her. Practical, first of all, that was Hank. No time for retrospecting or grouching or wishing for things to be other than they are. That's me, too. "I have one great ambition in life; it's this; a great big house and a whole lot to eat and lots of company and a great big man and a whole lot of children. "That's Life. Living. And for that ambition, for that privilege of living, I would exchange any career in the world if I had to."