The New Movie Magazine (Jan-Sep 1935)

CONNOLLY the Courteous No star zooming to fame overnight is Walter Connolly, but a capable, steady actor whose work, in picture after picture, has attracted nation-wide interest to him. Elsie Janis tells you about him. I HAVE watched him climbing steadily for eighteen months. Not a very long time when you consider that he has reached that realm of security which is the reward of consistently good performances. No great smashing overnight success. No stampede of electricians to put his name in lights on the theater marquees and therefore no rush to take it down a few months later if by chance he had appeared in a couple of disappointing pictures. When Mr. New Movie told me that Walter Connolly's popularity with the film public called for an article I was very pleased. You see, I write about the personalities that you ask questions about and I must say, so far our tastes coincide. It will be tough on all of us the day they ask me to write about some one I don't like. My first meeting with Walter Connolly was impressive. He is the only actor I ever met in the executives' dining-room at Columbia studios. He looks like most anything in the world but an actor, so I sat wondering if he might be one of those bankers who are supposed to come to the aid of the Industry now and then, or if perchance he might be some famous and expensive imported author. Columbia's diningroom is one of the few places where I become a listener. The President, Harry Cohn, who has pushed Columbia from a shoestring organization into the "big A boots with a kick in them class," sits surrounded by assistants and writers. The food is good. The dialogue is better. Mr. Connolly is a man of keen perception. He joined me in the art of listening. If you keep quiet long enough in a free-for-all battle of wits, some one becomes suspicious and you are asked a question. When Harry Cohn asked Connolly how he liked his part in the new picture I was frankly disappointed. He looked like such a nice plain sort of family man. He sounded like one when he made modest suggestions about some changes in the story which he thought might improve it. I left him there and went on my way wondering how long he would be able to make himself heard above the hustle and the bustle of Cohnized Columbia, where opinions usually call for arguments, arguments demand "sound effects" and the result is often a swell picture. When I saw the film they had discussed at lunch Mr. Connolly's suggested changes in the story had been followed. Wonders never cease in Hollywood. Of course he had been hard to get and anyone who enters films reluctantly is apt to be listened to. There is always the hope that some film-shy stage player will be able to explain the refusal of sure fire big dough in pictures for the comparatively small cakes of the theater. Mr. Connolly was coaxed out to Hollywood first in the Summer of 1932. I presume that he thought he might as well spend the Summer dabbling in the The Captain Hates the golden sands of Cin Sea, but he doesn't. emaland. It might be just as good sport as fishing. It apparently was, only Mr. Connolly got hooked. They gave him a long line, however, for he returned to Broadway and a great success in the Fall. All winter he played in "The Late Christopher Bean." Came Summer and they reeled him in. That's when I saw him at Columbia. A shy and cautious catch. Since then he has been leaping like a salmon, from role to role. So far I have not seen him play Walter Connolly on the screen. Early training in stock and repertory has taught him that acting means losing one's own personality in the character drawn, not wearing said character lightly, as a cape under which a player's own mannerisms and expressions can be seen constantly. In the last year he has been Spanish, Irish, Yankee, English. In tones dulcet or domineering. In backgrounds rural or sophisticated. From a lowly night watchman to a pompous millionaire is but a mental step for him. His success makes me wonder whether it isn't wise to set the public guessing what the actor is really like off the stage or screen, instead of allowing no doubt to exist as to what he is going to be like the next time he appears. I believe he had already signed a long-term contract the day we met at lunch, which makes his being listened to come even more under the heading "Strange Happenings in Hollywood," but in his contract there is a "time out for stage play" clause. He is taking that time out now. It's mostly time in for rehearsals. I went last week to watch him in action. He is enjoying his "vacation." No dialect. No hirsute adornments. The role calls for Connolly to be himself and he can't quite remember what he was like before he took up the chameleon's existence his versatility has demanded in films. I was told it would be difficult to "get at" Mr. Connolly for at least three weeks. He had been ill. He was rehearsing. He was very busy. The more reasons they had for my not seeing him the more I had for wanting to. Granted that the way to a man's heart is via his stomach, the way to a happily married man's heart is via his wife. I called up Mrs. Connolly. "I'm Walter with Mrs. Connolly. "The more I see of successful wives," says Elsie, "the more I know why they are a success." Mrs. Connolly is a fine actress, known on the stage as Nedda Harrigan. "Whom the Gods Destroy" was notable chiefly for Walter Connolly's splendid work. Walter with the perpetually jolly Guy Kibbee in the picture 'Lady for a Day." 20 The New Movie Magazine, March, 1935