The Motion Picture Director (Sep 1925 - Feb 1926)

1925 39 ©irector morning paper came in, spoke to me and started a conversation, hut I was an indifferent listener as I was wondering where I had seen the man before, who was at the moment entering his name on the register. He had the politician’s smile, and was rather good looking, his dark hair streaked with gray reaching almost to his shoulders. As soon as he left the register I sauntered over to the desk. You can imagine my surprise when I learned it was Dr. Booth? IN a few weeks we hit San Jose. All went well till Sunday morning. I was dressed in my best clothes and moving along Santa Clara Avenue with a roll of music under my arm, on my rvay to try out some songs with the first soprano of the big Catholic church. As I was passing a saloon, a young man in a bicycle suit was backing hurriedly out, followed by two hard looking customers who were hitting him with all their artillery. As he neared me he was knocked down and one man started to kick him. I held the larger man away, saying, “Your partner can lick him without you.” My back was turned to the man on the ground and his opponent. Suddenly I received an ungodly swing on the right ear. I turned to face my enemy and as I did so, the big fellow that I had held off swung one from the hip and caught me on side of the nose. If it Jim Corbett loses a bet to Frank Cooley and pays it many years later — Jim Corbett at left, Frank Cooley at right. Bertie Cecil so excited the lad that by the time the curtain was coming down he was under it. The big heavy roll caught him and was bearing him to the floor — I yelled to his brother, the janitor, and he stopped the windlass just in time. The boy was quickly pulled from under and the curtain allowed to descend. I was so mad that I made for the janitor at once and demanded that the boy leave the stage at once. He replied: “He’s my brother and he stays right here.” I took a punch at him — he looked at me in a daze, turned to his brother, saying, “Johnny, get the hell out of here!” Johnny went out in front and the show proceeded. The next morning I went over to the theatre to get something out of my dressing room. The janitor was sweeping the stage and upon seeing me, he dropped his broom and quickly preceded me to the dressing room, opened the door and ushered me in saving, “Look, I’ve cleaned her out good for you, Frank.” There was fresh paper on the shelf, clean water in a pitcher, and quite the neatest dressing room one had a right to expect in a small town. I played Selma every season after that for seven or eight years and never had the least trouble with anyone. I was generally called “Frank” by all and made some wonderful friends. The janitor, who also ran a d raying business, was a young man and the manager’s brother. He was a husky young fellow, yet he was taken ill and died a few years after our first visit and 1 have always deeply regretted hitting him. ANOTHER recruit joined us — MacDonald— I don’t remember his first name. I think he runs a drug store in San Bernardino now. He sang between acts, but in Tulare the piano player and he couldn’t mate up and he got the “Bird”. I was wild and intended to fire him, but he anticipated me by getting out over the back fence and I didn’t see him again for years. Before I get too far away I want to mention regarding my trouble with Dr. Booth at the Needles — that several years after the occurence we were playing a week in Pomona. One night after dinner I was sitting in the hotel office, when the bus arrived from the station with quite a number of guests. As they were registering, a waiter on the I joined my newspaper friend and asked if he knew who the man with the long hair was. “Sure,” he said, “that’s Dr. Booth. He’s running for coroner of the county on the Democratic ticket.” I recalled to his mind the trouble I had had with the doctor at the “Needles”. My friend had written a two column article about it at the time. He was immediately interested and had me review the occurrence for him. His was a Republican paper and next morning’s issue contained rather a sour account of the Democratic meeting and at the bottom stated, “Quite a coincidence — last night Dr. Booth and Frank Cooley were guests of the same hotel. This brings to our mind Frank’s first visit to the Needles” — then followed the story of Booth, the mob and the jail, ending with “ — and this man now asks the voters of Los Angeles county to elect him to the important office of Corner.” Another coincidence, Booth ran ahead of his ticket in Los Angeles, but behind in the county. He was not elected.