Motion Picture Classic (Jan-Aug 1919)

CLASSIC Me By Myself {Continued from page 35) loubtful, but it would keep me away trom home, they thought. Temperanent in four rooms was like a fire;racker in a teacup — anything might lappen. The great day came. We started out it seven o’clock in the morning. I, clad n my Sunday best, shoes that pinched, ind the family jewels, boarded a car illed with Broadway cowboys and exioubrettes, and after choking for an lOur from the smoke and dodging tolacco juice, we reached our destination, I motley moving picture camp in the lills. It was to be an Indian picture, and ve stood in line for our costumes and vigs. Just before my turn came the wigs ;-ave out — it was just my luck! I must a/c shown my keen disappointment, for he assistant said, “Give the kid a •liance; put her in the back and keep ler in the shade.” I have often wonlered if any one was ever startled by lie sight of a blonde Indian flitting lefore them. That was the beginning. A new vista lad been opened to me. Soon I received $25 a week — it was dabbling in ugh finance. A happy year followed, then the blow jell. I had gained a little recognition is the general utility woman of a small omedy company, playing everything rom Swedish servant girls to dainty ngenues with flowing curls and all the Accepted regalia. In parts that had charxter to them I succeeded fairly well, lut when it came to ingenues, I couldn’t inge” worth a cent. That started rouble and ended in my being fired. I had tried to skip gracefully around nd smile winsomely, but I was never nore awkward in my life, and my smiles wful caricatures of anything human, 'he director was plainly losing patience. Ve came to the place in the story where ,iy sweetheart and I climbed in a tree to ide from my pursuing parents. We had :o sooner .settled overselves comfortably n a bough, when it came crashing to the round. When my senses had sufficiently ecovered, I found myself, professionlly speaking, at liberty. “At liberty” was putting it mildly— I >as just plain loose. After a few weeks f hunting a position I looked for a job. -ven those were very will-o’-the-wispy. tried every place I had ever heard of, xcept the Keystone. Somehow it frightned me. Every one said, “Keep away rom that place if you value your life.” didn’t think much of mine, but I wasn’t razy about having it banged out by a rick or policeman’s club. Things got worse and worse, and one ay, in desperation, I .set forth for the :ridio of bricks, bruises and bumps. It as a very mild-looking little place at the pot of peaceful hills. I was just laughjg’ at myself for my foolish fears when patrol full of cops came tearing from ' “'ide entrance, clubs and guns in hand. I I (Sixty-nine) One look was enough. I made for home ! I went there every day for a week before I had courage to ask for work. On the eighth I walked meekly up to a fierce-eyed individual, who later turned out to be Mack Swain. “Was he using any people today?” “Can you shoot a gun?” he roared back. Could I shoot, a gun? I hadn’t worked in a Western studio for a year for nothing. I should say I could — with out batting an eye. He eyed me up and down. “All right, come as you are, only take that Christmas-tree off your head and wear something human.” I had always admired that particular hat, but to work again I would have worn a mud scow. That was an eventful day for me. We were taken out to the park, but after waiting around for hours, my turn came. It was my chance. Gun in hand, I waited for orders, my heart doing a fandango in my throat. “All right, camera!” yelled the director. Somebody — I think it was me — ^rushed forward. “Shoot !” somebody yelled. I shot. “Shoot again !” I exploded all the remaining chambers. “Good!” a strange voice called. “Take a fall !” I grew cold, but kept working. Such an indignity had never before fallen to my lot. “Take a fall!” The voice was now a .shriek. It was now or never. Somehow I threw my feet into the air, hurled myself forward and hit. They were laughing — was it with me or at me ? Anyway, I’d done my best. If this failed, it was the “want ads” for me. “All right, miss. That’s all for today. Eight-thirty in the morning, please.” I couldn’t wait for a car and ran all the way home. Almost strangled myself on water, so couldn’t tell the wonderful news for an hour, anyway. I must have been up half the night making faces at myself in the mirror ami practicing falls. When morning came I was a little the worse for wear, but happy. I made the call, and it’s been eightthirty every morning since. I did have, a few faint yearnings toward drama, but have reconciled myself with the thought that every one has a hard luck story and to create smiles was worth any sort of sacrifice. Serial comedy is my ambition. 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