Motion Picture Magazine (Aug 1915-Jan 1916)

CHATS WITH THE PLAYERS 117 dont believe that stage experience is necessary for success in pictures." "But what is the secret of success?" I asked. "There is no touchstone," she answered, "or magic sign that I know of. It 's a case of hard work, adaptability, an expressive face that suits the camera, and a certain amount of emotional feeling, real or simulated." She is modest, I thought — half of her own fine points are left unmentioned. She had just returned from a hard ride on one of the bridle-paths for which Chicago is famous, and Miss Bayne on horseback is a vision to delight the eyes of a poet or an artist. And speaking of artists, she is one herself. One of her greatest ambitions is " to do something really worth while," as she expresses it, in art — portrait painting preferred. And her other hobbies are quite bewildering in their variety, such as collecting fine linens, antiques and china, and then, too, she loves music and plays well. "Whom do you consider the greatest photoplayers ? " I asked, with mv notebook half-filled. "Oh, there are ever so many that I like. There are Mary Pickford, Blanche Sweet, Norma Talmadge, Carlyle Blackwell, Francis Bushman, and House Peters. They are my favorites ; but there are ever so many more whose work is so good, that I just sit silent and watch them, either with tears or with laughter, as their delineation demands." "And what do you think of the Motion Picture Magazine?" I demanded vaingloriously. "I think it's a splendid medium in which the public and the photoplayer are brought into closer friendship and understanding. I like every bit of it, from the front cover to the back. And every bit of it is worth its weight in gold to the photoplayer and to the public. "Isn't life gloriously worth living?" she asked suddenly, her brown eyes sparkling, her cheeks pink with the kiss of the lake wind. I agreed that it was. I should have liked to have thrown my notebook into the lake, and gone stirrup by stirrup down the road with this modern young Diana, but the voice of the people called, and I answered. "Are Motion Pictures destined to outshine the stage, do you think?" duty prompted me to ask. " No ; each covers a vastly different field, yet both go hand in hand," she replied quickly. "What a relief to the theatrical managers this wTill be ! " I murmured, scribbling busily. "And what improvements do you suggest in Motion Pictures?" She knit her fine brows, tore her eyes from the vista of springtime and answered : ' ' Good, conscientious work on the part of each individual in every department of the film productions." And when I asked her the name of her favorite poet, confidently expecting her to say James AVhitcomb Riley with his "Green Fields and Running Brooks," she confessed, with calmness that goes hand-in-hand with sincerity, ' ' William Shakespeare ' ' ! Any girl who is as young and as pretty as Beverly Bayne, and who spends her leisure hours reading Shakespeare, has my utmost respect. She looked at me with the courage of desperation in her Yan Dyke-brown eyes. "How many more questions have you on that list?" she demanded. "Oh, two or three more," I answered nonchalantly, knowing, guiltily, that there were at least a dozen. "I'll make a bargain with you. Forget the rest of those questions and I'll give you some of my latest photographs with a special one for yourself. And I'll treat you to luncheon at a queer, little, old inn. Is it a bargain?" she demanded, springing up. "It is," I answered promptly, stowing the list in my pocket. "All right, then. Let's amuse our appetites for awhile," she cried gaily, starting for the door. And I followed the dashing heroine's lead, as who wouldn't? Roberta Courtlandt.