We use Optical Character Recognition (OCR) during our scanning and processing workflow to make the content of each page searchable. You can view the automatically generated text below as well as copy and paste individual pieces of text to quote in your own work.
Text recognition is never 100% accurate. Many parts of the scanned page may not be reflected in the OCR text output, including: images, page layout, certain fonts or handwriting.
The Realtors of
Filmland
HARRY CARR
Above, Harold Lloyd is watching the construction of one of his many buildings in Los Angeles
At the right, Agnes Ayres, who is the Queen of all Realtors, and Cecil De Mille, who is the King, are disclosing to each other the facts and figures of their land investments
MAGINE having Agnes Ayres for a landlady ... or Tony Moreno for a landlord!
Imagine seeing a beauteous dream-lady, like Viola Dana, in a screen love story and saying to your next seat neighbor, in a blase, careless tone: "That there young lady in that there feller's arms has promised to get me a new stopper for the bathtub; ours is worn out . . . leaks."
For in fact and in truth the sprightly Viola and the talented and pulchritudinous Agnes are indeed landladies. And there are many others. The tradition which insists that the landlady is always a fat woman with a red nose and
Conrad Nagel is a regular farmer, and his huge ranch at
Duarte, near Los Angeles, represents the killing he made in
the real-estate boom
a screeching voice, will have to be revised so far as Hollywood is concerned.
A lot of famous stars in Hollywood are not only landlords, but realtors— regular Babbitts. Sometimes, at a Hollywood dinner, when high art and psychoanalysis have died as dinner topics, someone mentions real estate options. Then they all sit up and lick their lips with excited anticipation.
Nothing just like this Hollywood real estate boom ever happened in the world before. It was more like the Klondike gold rush than anything else I ever heard of — with this important difference : The rewards in the Klondike were for the lucky ones. A year ago in Hollywood you didn't have to be lucky. You couldn't lose. The boom seems to have waned now. But with the waning, it has left many new fortunes in the film colony. Not only the stars either. Stage hands, cutters, even sewing girls in the studio wardrobe departments,
have grown rich in real estate.
I know a cutter in the Talmadge studio who had to find a new house because his wife was about to have a baby. His landlord told him that he wasn't going to have any scandalous birds like storks around his house. So the cutter had to dig around and find a new abode.
Out on Melrose Avenue he found a house he could buy for
27
PAG
t