Motion Picture Magazine (Mar-Jul 1918)

CSK&ss^i © way toward the hell that men have builded for themselves "out yonder." Also 1 have seen our charwoman downstairs washing out a spittoon in the washhowl, and I have heard the boys on our ship as they cheered the first sign of welcome on French shores, a far distant "Henry" chugging along . the harbor boulevard. I can truly say that the best thing I . have seen in France is not a thing, but a Wellesley girl who sold me chocolate-bars at the Y. M. C. A. hut Christmas night, and the most sensible words in the French language, to my way of thinking, are "Vive I'Amerique !" I have wished time and again that I had been a commissioned correspondent with a chance to write and have published this war as I see it. But alt I can do is wait, and make notes, and gather from day to day the foundation of the firm ground of retrospect from which I some time hope to be able to speak to a good many Americans, firmly and without fear. Here are neatly ordered little houses, and splendid chateaux, and smooth roads winding along the streams, and far stretches of wonderfully cultivated country. But the neat little houses have little fire, and the splendid chateaux shelter family after family in black. The smooth roads all lead to the Front, and the wonderfully cultivated country in the spring will be dotted with the pathetic figures of women and girls and old men and little boys toiling with worn implements to make nature yield another year of livelihood. You asked me to write j'OU often, but this whole thing weighs on a man so that it is only occasionally he can see his way to tell anything, and then he wonders who, of mortals, can really speak sanely of it. The memory of the lads on our boat-deck singing "There's a Long, Long Trail " as we stood around in life-preservers waiting for the possible explosion that would send us into the smothering foam — that is but one item of the catalog of experiences which make a man want, to damn the very Deity that would let the power of ruling a nation be given into any one man's hands — or, for that matter, into the hands of any group who would answer to the lure of power and money. All I can say, and you can tell it to the staff, or to your readers, for me, if you want, is that I can see no remedy for a repetition of this thing in the future, unless we get some new ideals and revive some old ones, centering about the home as the most sacred and the most enduring gift of life to humanity. About that verse — I'll send you some, as I am sending this, thru the Base Censor, some of these days, as I think they'd can me here if they ever found I courted the Muses. But the war must have its songs and its Muse, and I'm going to do my bit in verse and send you some straight from the front. Walter Edmond Mair. LIVELY TABLE MANNERS IN MEXICO Harry S. Northrup, of the RolfeMetro Corporation, admits that he is very fond of chili-con-carne. "And furthermore," said Mr. Northrup, while waiting between scenes of "The Eyes of Mystery" at the Metro studios, ''my liking for this Mexican concoction nearly cost me my life once. It happened when I was living on my olive ranch near San Diego', Cal. The south line of my ranch is just a mile from the Mexican border on which is a little town called Tia Juana. (F\ Well, one night I was returning from Pus LA.GL Don Ybarro's horse-ranch at Eusenada, Mexico, with a new saddle-horse I had bought, and stopped off at Tia Juana for my favorite chile. I ordered a large bowl in the little adobe restaurant, and was just sitting down to eat it when out of the corner of ray eye I saw a flash in the middle of the room. Instinctively I ducked my head, and just missed having a Mexican knife sunk in my face. As it was, it cut my right cheek open and embedded itself in the mud wall beyond. Had I ducked a second later there would be no Northrup here to tell this tale, which is a true tale, as is proven by the scar I still carry, and which can be seen on the screen when I appear in "closeups." The Mexican who threw the knife? Oh ! He had mistaken me for some other American, which slight error cost him two years at hard labor — without chili-con-carne. Our Exclusi7e Question Box A New Answer Man Appears on the Field and Challenges Our Own Old Answer Man tor Supremacy in the Art of Answering Foolish Questions Dear Mr. Answer Man — It is so nice of you to offer to answer our questions about the picture people. I just love Francis X. Bushman. What does the "X" stand for? Mabel D. We are so glad you love Mr. Bushman, Mabel D(ear). We love him, too. The "X" means ten-dollar bill. Dear Feller — Some wise guy tells me Charlie Chaplin is a Swede. Slip us the right dope on this. Mike, the Bite. He must have been kidding you, Mique. Chas. telephones he is a Hungarian, as witness his promiscuous misuse of goulash pies. Dear, Dear Mr. Answer Man — Dont you think Earle Williams is just dovey? And Pearl White and Anita Stewart are just dears? Aren't pictures lovely? Hortense. Dont you just love phudge, Hort? Deer Sur — I think yur a f oreflusher you big proon. I cent a qweschun fore monthes agoe an aint heern nothing yet. You big stiff yurs respecful, D. Ontno. Did yew evur heer tell of Nour Webstur, D. ? Gentlemen — I am a young squab of 42. I am thinking of applying for a lead part in the movies. Would you like my photograph ? Lydia Pink. Do you remember the day Dewey entered Manila Bay? No, thanks, Lyd. ; we have stopped going to circuses. Dear Sir — Is Mary Pickford married? Ima Beechnut. We thought so. Yes, awfully. Have you heard of the war? Ans. Man — Can you tell me how Douglas Fairbanks makes those awfully wonderful high jumps? O. O. Sary. It's very simple, Owo. Doug has his shoes full of excelsior; and you know how springy that is ! But keep this under your hat. Dear Sir — I want to be a piano player in a movie house. Where shall I go about this? Emma Tyro. P. S. — Thank you. To movie house. P. S. — Y'r welc'me. Mr. Answer Man — Can you tell me if Willie Collier is any relation to the periodical of the same name? Annie Axheuser. Hot coffee. Dear Answer Man — I am only 4 ft. 3 in. tall, but think I could be one of them heroes. I am cross-eyed, kind of, but not much, and have a receding chin, and am pin-toed. Could I ? 0. Awful. Could you what? Die? Sure! Dear Missis— A mens comes into my shop today to have his pants pressed (15c — good work.) He said by Meester Hart vos der best shooter outside der trenches of. Is he? IZZY. Is he ! You betcher my life he is, Izzy. Dear Sir— 1. I am very, very anxious to be a second Theda Bara. 2. Whr.t chance have I? Hazel Homebreaker. 1. There are 12,000,000 others with whom you may shake hands. H. 2. You have a fat one. Mr. Question Box — They say it takes brains to act in the pictures. Some of them dont seem to have many. Dementia Precaux. We are not a box. There are brains and brains, Dementia. By the way, how did thev treat you up there? My Dear Young Man — Can you tell me how to address a letter to William Desmond? And can you recommend a good h.-r-dye? (Miss) I. N. Sipid. Yes. No. Dear Editor — Why dont the} name some of the sundaes after movie actors? 1. Screem. You flatter us, Ice. Put Jack Johnson, Charlie Chaplin and "Billy" Sunday together and you have a chocolate-nutsundae. A. M. — I applied at a studio for employment and they said my hair would endanger the celluloid film. What did they mean ? Tessie. Dont be so terse, Tessie. Red, red, ginger-bread ! Dear Sir— Are those bricks that they bounce off the supers' heads real? D. Umhed. Almost. But the supers' heads aren't.