Motion Picture Classic (Jul-Dec 1930)

The Most Dramatic Moment Of My Life (Continued from page qS) waiting . . . waiting . . . The following day was spent in a cold terror of excitement, anticipation and dread. The thought uppermost in my mind was that I had spent a week of my stay in Paris, arranging something that would probably be so horrible that it would remain in niy memory the rest of my life. It ne\ er occurred to me that my fears were really well-founded. But I was to learn in a few hours that I was incapable of fearing sufficiently to cope with the reality. I had no way of realizing that I was to witness a scene that my imagination had no possibility of visualizing. I was to have a 9ought-for look at Hell! The immensity of the situation began to dawn on me as I was led through the outer ofi|ce of the prison, and began my journey into the depths. VVill you believe me when I tell you that rn this day and age this prison is still run in the same manner and by men dressed in the same uniforms as it was in the Sixteenth Century? The interior of Sante is i(uarded by tall, uncouth rufhans in brightlycolored suits of the dark ages before the French Revolution. Not armed with revolvers, but with long muskets equipped at all times with bayonets — sharp bayonets that these ruffians are ready to put into use at the slightest provocation. Slowly, by the light of a tall candle, we were advancing toward the dense and musty depths that had been conceived in the mind of an early French king. At times, the light was extinguished by a sudden draft of damp air. . . And as I walked on, petrified with terror, I heard the scurry and swish of gutter rats and bats as they brushed my feet or whirled past my face. Have you ever been icy-cold with fear one moment and feverish with stark horror the next? If you have had such an exjierience, you have been through a Santi of reality! Forgotten and Lost BUT, suddenly, as if to make the situation even more terrifying (.if possible), I began to hear voices— rather, shrieks and moans — terribly intensified by the cold air and echoing walls and dripping water. They were the screams and mouthings of men turned to animals under the most grueling test of human sanity ever invented. A cry in the dark has always paralyzed my heart, but what I heard in the depths of Sante were the uncontrolled screams of man-made animals. In revolt. In pain. I was almost in a state of collapse when we came at last to the deepest caverns of this ancient prison. I could dimly see, by straining my eyes, that directly ahead of us, in the distance were the cages of the imprisoned men. .^nd now, for a moment of drama of the type that has never been acted. There before me, in the dim and shadowed light cast by a flickering candle, stood the boy. My powers of description leave me in this attempt to give you even a small conception of the reality. He looked at me — or did he stare? — with the eyes of a man lost to the world of the living. His e>es strained against the light that glowed in the shape of a candle, because (as I was to learn later) Sante is forever in darkness. The halfnaked animal who stood next to the boy was an insane man convicted of murder fourteen years before. Believe me when I tell you that he was frothing at the mouth! A Women Among Madmen NO sooner had the rest of the convicts in this Hell become used to the glare than they realized that I was a woman— the first woman many of them had seen in twenty years! There were gibberings, at first, of disbelief, then awful howls of pentup emotion and passion. The dirge of womanless men! How I managed to retain my balance while I talked to the boy (who perhaps couldn't hear), I have ne\er been able to fathom. Possibly, it was just the starkness of the reality that gave me a new set of nerves . . . new to women. As I tried to convey some of the hope for his release that was in my heart, fifty insane criminals howled and cried an obligato. The miserable harmony of forgotten men. One of those who used his lungs a bit more lustily than the rest sufTered a bayonet in the stomach. Soon I turned and motioned to the guard and we started our return march from the valley of the damned. As we went through the first iron gate, I turned for a parting glance at the horror I had just witnessed— gloomy, and now by the fading light of the candle, dank, hopeless. . . Thus ends my most dramatic experience. The boy was released within a week after my visit. His family never knew of his terrible experience and I ne\er told them. Every year, no matter where I am, that bo> sends me a heart-felt message of gratitude for what I did for him in Sante. He is a man reclaimed, but a man with imperishable memories. I have never been called upon, on stage or screen, to portray such drama as this — and I hope I never shall. I am sure that such nerve as I found myself possessed of in the depths of Sante is visited upon a woman but once! Oh, So Playful! {Continued from page wo) Charles Chaplin, Clara How. Al Jolson, Lon Chaney, Richard Barthelmess, Conrad Nagel. .Marion Davies, William Haines, Sue Carol, I'riscilla Dean (upside down) and even One-Eyed Connelly. More amazing still is George K. Arthur's tight-fisted scrawl. Rock's clients have their preferences in the type of joking material they desire. Cicrtrudc Olmstead runs entirely to eatables. Sue Carol also prefers table tricks. 1 he rubber pads that she inflated to make r guest's <linner plates jump about were distinct success. Jimmy Hall gave a series of three parties ith material picked up at .Magicland First, he entertained gentlemen of the local press; then, the Paramount publicity crew; and, finally, songwriter denizens of Hollywood's Tin Pan Alley. Murray Rock and his Magicland are becoming a Hollywood institution. With such a strong bulwark, the West stands ready to repulse Eastern attacks from such pretenders to the dynasty as Joe Cook. Our position, I must admit, has not always been so impregnable as it is now. Only a short time ago Magicland was unknown. When Rock first posted his shingle, sjiying " Magicland will soon open here," a lady from Hollywood dropped in to ask where his subdivision was located. Color Magic for the Lips! How innocent Tangee looks in its modest gunmetal case! But touch ic to your lips, you Blonde one of great fame . . . you Beauty of the titian hair . . . you sparklingeyed Brunette! For this is the magic of Tangee ... it changes • when applied to your lips and blends perfectly with your own natural coloring, no matter what your complexion. Tangee never gives an artificial, greasy, makeup look. It never rubs off. And Tangee has a solidified cream base, one that not only beautifies but actually soothes, heals and protects. Tzngee Lipstick, $1. The same marvelous color principle in Rouge Compact, 75^ . . . Crhie Rouge, $1. Face Pouder, blended to match the natural skin tones, $1. Night Cream, both cleanses and nourishes, %\. Day Cream, protects the skin, %\. Cosmetic, a new "mascara," will not smart, $1 . SEND 20(? FOR TANGEE BEAUTY SET (Sue items in miniature and "The Art of Make-Up.") The George W. Lurr Co . Dept. M.C.-IO 417 Fifth Avenue New York Name Addnsi 101