The Motion Picture Director (Sep 1925 - Feb 1926)

7 9 26 THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 15 Irene Rich as “ Lady Windemere” Motherhood a7id the Screen uv OU can’t be a real mother to your | children and an actress too!” they told me. “They” were the usual groups of friends and relatives who surround anyone who is going into motion pictures, or to move to another state, or to choose a college or to buy a hat. “It’s a matter of duty to the kiddies,” they continued. “You know what the screen career is. It isn’t fair to the children to take them into that atmosphere, or to take their mother away from them.” “On the contrary,” I replied, “I’m going into motion pictures because of the children.” A gasp ! They all looked at my mother who, bless her sensible heart, was on my side. “I don’t know what the screen career is,” I continued, “and if you’ll pardon my saying so, dear friends, neither do you. But I have reason to believe that as a motion picture actress I can raise the children in a better atmosphere, can give them a better home, a better education and more of my own care than I could if I were going to become a stenographer, a bookkeeper, a — ” “But, my dear girl! Surely you know that there are such occupations as profes hi/ Irene Rich sional hostess, social secretary and others in which one’s social training may be capitalized— ” “And one’s time monopolized!” I retorted. I’m afraid I wasn’t altogether polite or considerate, but as a matter of fact I was secretly agitated. In spite of careful consideration of the problem, and arrival at a decision that I had no intention of changing, I had little disquieting fears — little jangling nerves that were easily aroused to the “jumpy” state. “I am going into motion pictures as I would enter a business venture,” I said. “I’ll have a sinking fund. I’ll be prepared to wait for business. I’ll invest in ways and means of attracting business, such as advertising and publicity. If I fail I can always try to find some other market for my personality and limited talents.” “You’re going into it, child, because you’re caught by the lure of acting, just as any silly little girl with no responsibilities might rush to Hollywood and destruction!” The speaker was a friend old enough and dear enough to speak her thoughts without reserve — and on this occasion she spared me nothing. “I plead guilty of feeling the lure, as you call it,” I said, “but it isn’t just the glamor of the thing. I’ve always wanted to try acting for the screen, because of the scope of the medium. Now I have an added incentive in the matter of its financial appeal. If I do succeed, I can do more for the children than I could do in any other way, I’m sure. So — ” Every time I hear of any girl or woman breaking the home ties and launching forth, from some distant circle of friends and familiar atmosphere, into the struggle for film success in Hollywood, I think of that scene. No doubt it is rather typical, for if children do not figure in the problem, inexperience in life or any one of many obstacles will be held up before the eyes of the aspirant to career, and magnified, I believe, beyond a just proportion. I’ll add my voice to those of the many who have said that the screen career offers no broad, easy highway of approach, no flower-strewn path of progress, no sinecure when success arrives. But we cannot keep up with the bandwagon of the times and still preserve those ideas of the not distant past that if possible girls should be kept from seeking a career other than that of marriage. Duty to children? As I saw mine, it