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Campbell Studios
The Extra Girl Invades Anotht Courtroom
WE were resting between scenes. In hushed ton we were exchanging confidences that, if shout* from the housetops, might have turned mo archies into republics, Bolshevikis into Holy Rolle and ended for all time any doubt in the public mir concerning the League of Nations and the freedom the seas.
“She’s a winner,’’ eloquently whispered “Muffins brushing the hair back from his high brow.
“Believe me, old girl, they dont come any finer supplemented “Coffee,’’ writing “Finis’’ on the tabl of the last olive oh the plate.
“She’s the best little woman in the business,’’ r marked John Stahl, sotto voce to an interested spe tator.
At that moment the subject of discussion a] proached, with that graceful glide which has long be* our envy and the object of our unsuccessful imitatio She was enveloped in squirrel from chin to toes. H* eyes shone thru the brim of her black lace hat and, “Muffins” put it, “she was a winner.”
But it takes more than that to make and keep scon of friends like “Coffee” and “Muffins” and Mr. Stal;
“You must be genuine and human and then — we then you should worry about anything else,” “Coffei told me later.
It all came about this way. My best friend a> nounced one day — and oh, how she flattered me!“Get a story about Florence Reed, and I’ll forgi you for going into pictures.”
You see she (the best friend) comes from Worce ter. Mass. Worcester has one great reason for pric besides its proximity to Boston, and that is the fa that Florence Reed was at one time leading woman its favorite stock company.
Above all things I crave my best friend’s forgiv ness, so one morning I waited at the corner of Fort; second Street and Tenth Avenue for an I-dare-you-t catch-me until the Indian outside the nearest cig; store had nothing on me in the line of being a perm nent feature of the landscape, and was rewarded finally landing on my arched insteps at the door of tl Fiftyfourth Street studio. As usual, a courtroom w; in the act of being transferred to the screen. No\ if there is a courtroom lying around loose in which have at one time or another failed to grace its harde bench, I can in no way account for its escape. Th chamber of justice had one lone seat vacant, and th lone seat had a thousand beckoning hands. Even b fore Assistant Director Fred Hazenmeyer had e: gaged me I found myself moving towards it as if a trance. Here and there a face that had aided me decorating other courtrooms in previous existence smiled at me in friendly greeting.
The jury, had already a sembled. In general comp sition it was not unlike oth juries that sit and are paid fill space ; in fact, I reco nized several jurors of yeste year, and even the year befo that, except that it was mac up of eleven men — and or woman. The woman, ,( course, was the heroine. Mi
Florence Reed has been dividing lier time b e t vv e e n the stage play, “Roads of Destiny,” and the screen studios. She has just completed “The W^oman Under Oath,” in which Miss Rosemon appears with her
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