Movie Classic (Sep 1936-Feb 1937)

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Doctors recommend it, and the price within reach of all. Send for Information If you will describe your case it will aid us in giving you definite information at once. PHILO BURT COMPANY 134-10 Odd Fellows Temple Jamestown, New York Laughs On The Cobb [Contnued from page 33] And when they call me for retakes, I won't be there !" (The boast was not idle. As I write this, I am advised by a harassed studio that Irvin Cobb is missing. They want him for retakes of the tomato-in-the-eye scene. It seems the tomato they used wasn't ripe enough to photograph well, and they want to hit him with a tomato into which the studio makeup department has squirted black ink, so it will make a real gooey picture. But Cobb is gone, and has left no forwarding address. You'll see the anaemic tomato hit Mr. Cobb when you see Pepper.) HOWEVER, despite his wails, the Hollywood life of Irvin Cobb isn't all vegetables-in-the-optic and falls-on-the-youknow-what. For Irvin Cobb, who ranks now as Hollywood's best-loved citizen, and who most nearly fills the place of Will Rogers, finds life as a movie-actor really delightful, interesting, thrilling, despite his professional yawps to the contrary. He lives in Garbo's house. He sleeps in Garbo's bed. When you ask him how it feels to sleep in Garbo's bed, he looks around to see if ladies are within earshot. If they are, he won't tell you. If they aren't, he tells you. But since ladies will probably read this story, I can't tell you what Mr. Cobb tells you when ladies aren't around. Of course — or did you know it? — Garbo doesn't live there any more, herself ! What I mean is that Mr. Cobb has taken to himself the house where Garbo used to live, before she tank she go home, this last time. Mr. Cobb gets a giggle out of the story of the lady who lives next door. She has two children. When Garbo used to be their neighbor, the lady tells Mr. Cobb, her little son came running to her one sunny morning, shouting : "Oooh, mama — that lady next door is out in her yard without any clothes on again!" But this story isn't about Garbo, so let's skip that. This is about Irvin Cobb, and what he's in Hollywood for. As a matter of fact, he doesn't really understand that himself. He came to Hollywood first, he complains, under false pretenses — and he's still here under the same. "The false pretenses the first time," he explains, "weren't mine ; they were Hal Roach's. He got me out here, pretending he wanted me to write for movies. When he got me here, he revealed that he wanted me to act in 'em ! Hell ! I've been here ever since, but this time, the false pretense is mine. I pretend I'm an actor, but hell ...!!" It was nobody else but grand old Will Rogers himself who helped boost Cobb into feature pictures. Under the Hal Roach false pretense arrangement, Cobb managed to escape acting save in one of four two reelers he wrote for the producer. After the experiment, Roach and Cobb told each other good-bye by mutual consent. Then one day. Will Rogers came to him and drawled : "Say, Irv ; how about playing a steamboat cap'n in my next picture?" "Don't," remonstrated Cobb, "try any of your funny cracks on me." "But I mean it," insisted Will. "Lookahere — if you take the part, we can just have a swell time together on the picture, and we'll get paid for it besides." That was the clincher. Cobb took the part. For Director John Ford, it was tough. Because neither Cobb nor Rogers bothered to read the script. Ford didn't discover it until they were on the deck of the steamboat on the Sacramento River location. "We were all dressed up in our clown suits," Cobb tells it, "when Ford asked us like this : 'Gentlemen, I don't want to seem morbidly curious, but — have either of you gentlemen read the script of this picture we're supposed to make?" "Naw," grinned Rogers. "Nope," grunted Cobb. "Have either of you the faintest idea of what it's all about?" pleaded Ford. "No; we've decided to approach it with an open mind," explained Cobb. Then he turned to Will Rogers, and said: "See here, Bill; I'll make a deal with you. You think up a line for me to say, and I will do the same for you ..." "Gentlemen," interrupted Ford, "that's all very nice of you. It's just awfully nice (if you. But would you do me a favor? I don't want to interfere, but would you every so often — just every half hour, say — just mention something about the plot?" And that's the way they left it. That's the way they made Steamboat Round the Bend. Cobb and Rogers had one grand time — and both grinned when, as Bill had cannily told Cobb, they got paid for it! /^OBB comes closest to real tears (not ^ crocodile tears, like the luncheon sequence, but honest-to-god man's tears) when he talks of Will Rogers. These two, rivals for the title of America's Top Humorist, were close friends. They loved each other with that depth of respect and admiration and liking and warmth that marks man's deepest friendships. And they were always playing tricks on each other. Cobb told me about the time Rogers was to make a radio broadcast, and invited him to the broadcasting studio. Cobb, unsuspecting, went. And was horrified to hear Rogers announce, without preliminary warning, that Cobb was to share the day's broadcast with him ! Then, during that intermission when an orchestra plays, Rogers went to his portable typewriter and painfully, one-fingeredly as always, clicked out some questions he was going to ask Cobb before the mike. He handed the sheet to Cobb to work out some answers before they went on the air. Just as they took their place at the mike, Rogers asked, aside, what his answers were going to be. "Hell, you don't think I'm going to show you my answers, do you?" roared Cobb. Rogers grinned devilishly. "H'm, so that's it," he whispered. And when they got on the air, Rogers didn't ask him a single one of the pre-arranged questions, but crossed him up instead with the darndest set of queries he'd ever had to answer on the spot, Cobb grins. Despite all his plaints, Cobb really loves movie acting. It's characteristic of him that he does. His whole life has been spent, seeking the thrill of new things to do. The story of his life has been told before ; I needn't bore you with it here. But he admits that he regards life as a never-to-be-ended adventure . . . "I love the lure of the always something different," he explains, when you catch him in a serious moment. I've tried being an artist, newspaperman, reporter, editor, cartoonist, writer of short stories, books, lecturer, after-dinner speaker, fisherman — and 80 Movie Classic for October, 1936