Moving Picture World (Aug 1920)

August 14, 1920 THE MOVING PICTURE WORLD 875 Helene Chadwick Tells of Movie Making When Their Good Ship Started to Buck THERE are lucky mortals in this world who are always having things made easy for them. The heroine of the Goldwyn picture based on a Ben Ames Williams sea story is of this number. When she was a small girl and strangers were prompted to inquire into her personal history the conversation ran something like this : ‘What is your name, my dear?” “Helene Chadwick.” “Where do you live?” “Chadwick.” “Isn’t that fine? — when you had to learn your family name and the name of the place where you live you had only to remember one word.” Sometimes the stranger varied the last remark by saying, facetiously: “Chadwick, eh? did they name the town after you?” And received this reply, delivered with much dignity: “My grandfather named it after himself — he owns it — he built it all himself and there’s a street in it and our house and the trains go right past it.” That’s the way an amiable fate has always arranged matters for Helene. Obstacles of all sorts have been removed from her path. When she decided she wanted to become a movie actress she wasn’t obliged to study the beauty hints in the fashion magazines or lay in a stock of the wonder working preparations advertised in the street cars and theatre programs that are guaranteed to turn the plainest woman on earth into a vision of female loveliness over night. Nature had attended to this matter for her. All that was necessary for Miss Chadwick was to walk into a studio and let her looks do the talking. She was engaged at once. And because she had real acting ability, and was not afraid of hard work, she made good. Breaking into an Interview. Last week she sat in the seat of honor at a luncheon at Mr. Delmonico’s tavern on Fifth avenue, New York, and was permitted to get close ups of the very intelligent body of ladies and gentlemen who had said all the nice things about her acting in “Dangerous Days” and other Goldwyn pictures. Not having reviewed any of these pictures myself, I felt somewhat at a disadvantage, but made bold to ask for an interview and was invited to call the next morning at Miss Chadwick’s hotel. As the society reporter would phrase it : I was on hand at the appointed hour and the interview proved to be a most enjoyable affair. Especially so to an enterprising young miss, of about fifteen, who followed Miss Chadwick into the writing room, took a seat within easy earshot and drank in every word of the conversation, while pretending to be reading a morning paper. I suspect that young person of a firm determination to break into the movies herself. A Ben Ames Williams Sea Story. Having learned as much of Miss Chadwick’s personal history as is set down in the opening of this article and sternly suppressed any desire to question her about her age, weight or the name of her favorite author, actor or director, I switched the conversation over to that safe and sensible subject, her latest picture. “What’s the last part you played before leaving the Coast?” I asked. “The heroine in one of Ben Ames Williams’ sea stories,” was the reply. “The By EDWARD WEITZEL iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiifiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiii!iiii:!i picture hasn’t been named, but it has a splendid plot, and my part is the strongest one I have ever acted. John Bowers plays opposite me, and Russell Simpson is in the cast.” A sea story! I recalled Ben Ames Williams’ ability to put real men and women into his tales, and make them fight their way through lives that are surcharged with real drama. Then I looked at the perfectly gowned young woman with the calm eyes and pleasant air of refinement and self reliance who had spoken. “I’ll venture that the girl you portray in the picture leads a slightly different existance to that which falls to the lot of most folks up in Chadwick,” I said. “You’re right, if you mean more exciting,” answered Miss Chadwick. “The storm scenes aboard ship are wonderfully realistic; but, oh dear! what hard work it was getting them! Photographing a genuine storm from the deck of a tossing and pitching ship by a camera crew that hadn’t been afloat long enough to know the meaning of the term ‘sea legs’ was a heart breaking experience.” “I should have thought,” said I, “that the cold storage plant beneath that organ was the seat of the real discomfort.” Further questioning proved that I was again in the right. The Cowboy and the Bucking Ship. “But the camera crew’s devotion to duty,” declared Miss Chadwick, “was a beautiful thing to see. Pale and woe begone, their poor wobbly legs unable to support them, the photographer and his assistant would grind away until nature could no longer keep up the fight and down they would go on the deck. Reginald Barker is one of the kindest hearted men in the world. He’d wait patiently until the chief camera man made an effort to get up, would then help him to his feet. ‘I know just how you feel, old man,’ he would say; ‘but let’s get one more shot before we all topple over.’” “How about the actors — weren’t there any good sailors among them?” “Oh, yes ! quite a number — but I didn’t belong to their set.” “Did you suffer horribly?” “Yes; but you know there isn’t anything a movie actress will not giv^ up for the sake of her art.” Miss Chadwick hadn’t been at all serious while relating the discomforts of the deep, when applied to moving picture making, and I was not at all surprised when she paused to laugh before continuing: “One of the male actors was a cowboy, a real one from Texas, who became a movie actor, just because he admires Will Rogers and wanted to be near him. You should have heard what he had to say about the glories of the ocean when our good ship started to buck.” “I suppose he knew more about riding a bronco than he did about riding the waves.” “He had never stepped on to the deck of a ship before and was a tenderfoot, brand A, when he listened to the voice of the tempter and signed up for that voyage. My! my! how sick that cowboy was! and how mad he got!” “What made him so mad?” “Because the ocean wouldn’t fight fair. ‘Consarn this durned old tub and th’ way she bucks ! I cud ride her all right if the measly water under her would only hold still,’ was his complaint the first time he found he couldn’t keep his feet.” Mills Heads New Society At a banquet and election meeting held recently of the newly formed Electrical Illuminating Engineering Society of Motion Picture Producers, Frederick S. Mills, chief electrical illuminating engineer of the Lasky studio in Hollywood, was elected president for the ensuing year. This is an organization composed of motion picture studio electrical engineers, and its purpose is to promote efficiency. Helene Chadwick Seen in a Moment of Uncertainty ‘That’s the time we had a close shave,” says the seaman. “Believe me, you need one,” retorts Helene in this new Goldwyn picture.