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Presenting the bridegroom Harry Richman. Possibly when you read these lines, the wedding of Clara Bow and Mr. Richman will havecrossed across the front pages of the country. Anyway, you will have an opportunity to see Mr. Richman, graduate of the Broadway night clubs, in his first talkie, a production of United Artists, in March. The picture is called "Putfin' on the Ritz," and tells the story of a vaudeville team played by Mr. Richman anci Mr. James Gleason. Complications appear when Mr. Richman loses his heart to half of another vaudeville team, played by Joan Bennett. Then the real troubles begin.
Letters of a
Property
Man
(Continued from page 99)
But Franklin wasn't smiling and kidding. He was working up a hate that almost blew the top of the mountain off. Then he lets loose. Why the
— : — blank blank did you birds
try to spoil my picture. Then I looked around, every doggone calvaryman was setting on his horse as pretty as you please. Not a one had fallen when the
grays fired. "Why the and
the didn't some of you damn bums
fall when they fired on you. Are you afraid to fall?" yelped our well-known director. I started to alibi the gang when some buck private in the rear rank, Pee Wee, I think, sang out, "Why don't you do a fall yourself, you big stiff — why don't you earn that 200 bucks a week. Now who's afraid?"
The boss just aviated right then and there. He told us all what we was, how we was born, where we was going and
when, and then " Burr I'll do a
fall. I'll show you ladylike jockey? something. Here, Jack, give me that coat and that damn plug."
Did I unload? Listen old Goal Keeper, a coal driver on a late Saturday night in the winter had nothing on me. I just fell off that nag and out of that jacket. He climbed on to Nuisance, yanked the flag out of my hands and screamed, "And I'll do a forward flop too." That meant he would do a forward somersault land on his feet maybe and count on the speed to tip him forward on his face and hands. It's a nasty bit, at best. Generally you land up with a pair of black eyes and the looks of a pork and beaner around ten rounds.
AS he rode off through the troops he was searching for something; finally he said, "Where is that bozo that squacked? I'd like for him to ride with me." No answer, though I noticed that Pee Wee had edged away from him and was up in the front rank and smiling. What he said to them on the way back out of sight, I don't know. Soon he hollered, "Hey, Jack, grab Grann's nag and come up here." I did. He handed me the flag again and said, "Get out in front, take a good flop and you'll get a present in your stocking for Christmas."
I squacked for a fifty foot start by alibiing that the plug was slow. He said, "All right, get going — CAM." "Hey," I yelled back at him, "how many ?" "None of your damn business," came back our sweet-tempered director. What I wanted to know was how many was going to get piled up alongside me. "CAMERA," yelled Franklin.
Down we came toward Granny. The old nag was extending himself — pretty near time to fall, wasn't it? No, they hadn't fired yet. Take it easy. Bank — Pop — bank, and I went over the head of Granny's bag of bones. The nag had been hit with some of the gun wadding and decided not to wait for me. It was
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