Motion Picture Magazine (Feb-Jul 1919)

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Harmony, Voice, Public School Music, Violin, Cornet, Mandolin, Guitar, Banjo, or Reed Organ— and we will send our FREE CATALOG covering all instrumental and vocal courses. Send NOW. UNIVERSITY EXTENSION CONSERVATORY 5476 Siegel-Myers Bldg. Chicago. Illinois Rest Assured Fault! Pajamas and Night Shirts .mean the originality. ,of everything in material, style and manufacture that is worthy, at a price which gives maximum value to the wearer. Over 10,000 dealers recommend — "The NICHTwear of a Nation!" The Polly-Sidney Drew (Continued from page 71) Q rehearsed yet again — this time with Polly's extra touch of comedy inserted. This, . I found later, was an old trial of theirs — they often thought of some little touch at the last moment which never failed to prove a success — so utterly spontaneous and natural is their work. When Polly and Mr. Drew at last discovered my presence, I was joyously greeted and given a seat of honor at the right of the camera-man — a vantage-point whence I could see everything without ever getting even my shadow in the way —one of the studio's worst social blunders, by the way. "Just look at the Avay they've arranged those hangings," came in a sort of despairing wail from Polly, and with a deft touch she rearranged the offending draperies. By the way — if you've never noticed the clever feminine touches to the Drew sets which make their home always so cozy— watch the next picture you see of them, for Polly's finishing touches. At this point it became necessary for a change of costume all around as other scenes were fo be "shot." Polly was back before any of the others. Henry wandered in next, looking dubiously about. "What's the matter, honey?" called Polly, watching him poking into things "Cant find a match," he replied, holding out an nnlighted cigaret. Polly was off in a moment and back with a box of matches. "Here, let me fix your make-up, it's terrible," she said with wifely solicitude, and drew out a powder puff and an eyebrow pencil; the docile Henry blew his smoke out of the corner of his mouth beyond her head. Before lunch time, five scenes had been taken — which you may be sure is a remarkable record. Luncheon was served in a little private dining-room, five flights down from the studio, and the Drews, myself, and Mrs. Drew's younger sister, who happened to be playing a part on this picture, were the only ones present. Henry seemed distraught. "There's mince pie for dessert," he said at last. "But you know you aren't allowed to eat it," and Polly almost unkindly reminded him of the terrible last time he ate it! "But this is a better mince pie," he said, and I noticed that his eyes wandered several times, longingly, toward the luscious golden brown and flaky-crusted confection reposing on a side table. However, he managed to resist, and before long we were thru -and upstairs ready for work again. This time Polly, the Punctual, was late and while we waited, Henry sat smoking in the dressing-room. "She's probably telling the propertymen tomorrow's scenes., the camera-man how many feet of film to _ order, giving the electrician his instructions and telling the folks in the cast what to wear," Henry said, and from the hustle and animation of busy workers proceeding from the studio, I judged he was right. Mrs. Drew not only writes their comedies and directs them — she supervises each detail of construction. "I believe she'd like to paint the furniture and make the costumes if she could," Henry told me. Just then the door flew open and an excited Polly flew. in. "Henry dear, what do you think I've been doing?" she cried as she ran into the center of the room and seated herself on the edge of a table. Somehow she always gives the impression of a bird poised for flight---so full of restless energy is she. "Building an airship, probably," suggested Henry dryly. "No, I've been fitting up our traveling caravan," she replied. "Our what?" he asked, glaring at her as only Henry can glare. "The thing we are taking along with us when we go on our road show," she explained patiently. "You see, while we are taking 'Keep Her Smiling' from place to place around the country, we can still keep on making pictures. I've got camera equipment, props, lights, developing tank, and printing outfit, you see. Oh yes, and a projection machine so I can clip the pictures and assemble the scenes' while we are on tour." "But it cant be done," said Henry, sitting down hard. "It's all done," laughed Polly. "Everything is ready and I can write the pictures on the train as we travel from place to place." Henry looked at her and* then a smile broke and he chuckled. "Gypsy players, as it were?" Then he turned to me with, "You see — if she did" all this in ten minutes' telephoning, there's no limit. Hurry now and we'll give you a lift back to town — we're off to Newark for the evening performance." At the Well of Ponce de Leon ^Continued from page 39) Children? Not if one has a profession. One has to leave them to servants and after, awhile they, the children, are just like the servants and you find some little strangers in your home ! "I've always wanted to go on the stage — always — all the time. As far back as I can remember I used to dress up in the odds and ends I found in the attic and parade about, being everything from Ophelia down. I think it was fortunate for me that I knew so early what I wanted to do, because then I didn't waste anv precious time testing other things. I jus't always knew. My family all objected — quite strenuously. They are all Methodists and very religious folk. I've an uncle and aunt who never hear my name without a shudder to this day. My mother helped me. She didn't believe in my choice, but she knew me, and so when we came on to New York for our vacation one year she came with me, and when I got my first engagement I just announced it to her — and she helped me ever after." Fannie Ward told me more of her beginning-of-things — told me, too, that she and Mr. Deane were waiting for passports for London, while vacationing in New York, where she has had an offer to appear, jointly, on both screen and stage. Her stay abroad, she said, would be indefinite. I must admit to it that I lost a great part of the telling. It was such an extraordinarily fascinating business — listening to her talk, thinking of her many achievements, endeavoring to reconcile them with the fragmentary, inter jectory manner of the little-more-than-a-child she is. She has never, I concluded, veritably never grown up. I had an odd feeling that, on her travels, and she has circumnavigated the globe, she has stolen from each land some nectarine of peach-bloom youth, some slender golden secret from a lotus flower, some secret of immortality from a blowing scarlet poppy ... or else . . . and here is food for thought ... a pertinent question ... a logical surmise ... it is all a myth, this publicized age of Fannie Ward's . . . and she has been doing, indeed, a clever little sum in addition rather than the customary one in subtraction . . . Query? 12 iAS£