Movie Makers (Jan-Dec 1930)

j>%ivajimi£'»' 1950 MAKING TITLES for your films We are specialists in making titles for, and in editing, 16 mm. (amateur standard) film. Our equipment is complete and up-to-the-minute ; our personnel is experienced and skilled. Every order, whether large or small, receives exacting attention; all special instructions are carefully followed; no effort is spared to produce results of the very highest grade. Printed matter, including price list, is available upon request. Send for it! *S#S#S#S#N#S#S#» KODASCOPE EDITING AND TITLING SERVICE, Inc. 350 Madison Ave., New York City / I t till i I FOR. INLCCR. PICTURES # ,1000 WATT OUTFIT \ 3u/b fe.^^ ^ 500 WATT SINGLE ' Again the King looked puzzled. "You know," went on Perkins — "vest pocket costumes — beads, bandeaus and the like — Atlantic City stuff?" The King's face took on a still more bewildered look. Perkins caught himself. "Oh, I say, old knob, I'm sorry. I forgot where I am. Just prod me with that iron elbow of yours if I go wandering again." And he went on to explain how beauty contests are held at Atlantic City. The King seemed highly interested. "Now what I want to get at is this," went on Perkins. "Why can't we get this young lady out for sort of a private contest tomorrow, sometime? You see, I have in my ship a magic box that'll knock your picture-box off the map. This one of mine uses film, instead of glass, and it makes pictures that move — just like the things and people you see with your eyes." And he painstakingly explained the marvels of the motion picture. King Arthur listened in wide-eyed astonishment. When he had finished his explanation, Perkins hinted again for the ale-boy and, when he had come and gone. King Arthur's plans for the morrow had progressed to the point where a group of the kingdom's ladies were to go slumming with Mrs. Arthur, while he and Perkins made movies of the beautiful Nola. Perkins interrupted his plans to draw a verbal picture of Nola in modern American feminine bathing attire. The King listened, more pop-eyed than before and, when Perkins had finished, he brought his fist down on the Round Table with a bang that shook the building to its rafters. "Stop! Say no more, friend. The Royal Dressmaker shall measure my dream girl ere the sun sets today! We shall, as you say, 'pep up Camelot!'" "But the dream girl, old thing. Suppose she objects to displaying her charms before a total stranger?" "Think nothing of it," replied the King. "She shall be properly chaperoned. And I, the King, demand it. What can she do?" Perkins shrugged. "If you can fix it with the lady, Kingy, it's 0. K. by me." "Consider it, as you say, 'fixed.' Let's drink to the morrow — and hope it doesn't rain." -X * * The morrow dawned early — and iDright. Not a cloud disturbed the azure clarity of the sky. It was one of those days photographers and baseball magnates see in their dreams of paradise. Long before the appointed hour of ten, the King and Perkins had appeared in the little glade beyond the sight and sound of Camelot where the pictures were to be made. When Nola, accompanied by the dressmaker and a chaperone, had come and gone and Perkins had exposed every last inch of film in his possession, he and the King rode silently back to the city. Throughout the ride, Perkins had been in a daze that was deeper, if anything, than that which engulfed the King. For the first time in his life he was head-over-heels in love! All the superlatives the King had used in his description of Nola had prepared him for the sight of an exceptionally beautiful girl. But he had not expected what he saw when she stepped gracefully and somewhat defiantly from behind the leafy shroud of a bush, clad only in ultra-modern American bathing attire. He had been struck dumb by the beauty of her face and figure. No place on earth — and he had been everywhere that mattered — had he ever seen a girl so strikingly beautiful, so utterly divine as Nola. She was the composite of every lovely woman he had ever seen. Long before he had exposed the first five feet of film, he was hopelessly in love. When the last foot had slid behind the lens and he and the King were bidding farewell to Nola and her escort, he had caught himself blushing for the first time he could recall. For Nola had looked half wistfully, half reproachfully at him out of her deep, shining black eyes and she had smiled the sort of smile he had always associated with angels. A moment later she had touched his hand with her own and his heart had literally stopped beating. Now, as they crossed the drawbridge and entered the city, his heart was pounding like a pneumatic hammer. Wherever his eyes rested, he saw the face of Nola. Those deep, dark eyes smiled at him from every window, every flagstone, every doorway, and his ears rang with the sound of her voice. Seated once more at the Round Table, King Arthur called for ale. Perkins stared at the mug before him, and saw within its creamy depths the eyes and rose-bud lips of Nola. Suddenly he sprang to his feet and brought his fist down sharply on the Round Table. He turned almost fiercely to King Arthur. "Have you chemicals in Camelot?" The King nodded. "Sir Boss taught us much of chemistry. I develop my own plates — if that is what you mean." "You want to see them too, eh? Where is your darkroom?" The King arose. "Come with me. But first drain your mug." "Hang the mug. Come on!" Throughout the evening and into the small hours of the morning they labored in the King's crude laboratory. Finally, just before dawn, Perkins hurried to his plane and returned with a peculiarlooking instrument which he placed on 48