The New Movie Magazine (Dec 1929-May 1930)

WE HAVE The New Movie's Own Ambassador Presides at Another Banquet I WILL now direct your attention to a man from the best state in the union. I refer, of course, to Missouri, where so many fine people come from. (Now isn't that odd? — we're from there ourself!) The other fine person from there is none other than Jack Oakie, and he went into his first song and dance at Sedalia, November 12, 1903, so that, on the day after Armistice this year, he will be twenty-seven. The name he came into the world with was Louis Offield. The first word Jack ever said was "Grease-paint," and the first time he started to walk across the floor, holding onto Grandpa's finger, he stopped in the middle of it and broke into a buck and wing. This so shocked the good people of Sedalia that his mother picked him up and took him to New York, where people don't care whether you are going to perdition or not. Jack was entered in the La Salle High School, studied between jigs, and on graduation, when they called his name to come forward and get his diploma, he stopped in the middle of the platform and did a Charleston. His first job was as a clerk in a stock broker's office in Wall Street. As everybody knows, there's money in Wall Street and Jack got some of it — ten dollars every Saturday afternoon, whether he had earned it or not. One day his boss said to him: "Jack, I'm going out to lunch now. I want you to put through an order for me for $800,000 worth of General Motors. Don't forget." When the boss came back Jack hadn't put through the order. "What's the matter?" asked the boss. "Why didn't you do it?" "I got busy working out a new dance step and couldn't stop for details," said Jack. Soon after that Jack left Wall Street. In fact, it was Saturday of that week. No, girls, he is not married. He lives with his mother in Hollywood, but be careful — he'd expect you to do a tango on the way to the altar. Think that over, girls, before you wire. &ICHARD DIX: The next state to be heard from this •*■*• evening will be Minnesota, and the proud town is St. Paul, and the young man is Ernest Carlton Brim 54 mer, Jr. What is that I hear somebody down there at the end of the table say? "I never heard of him." Well, that's what the hall records in St. Paul says. of He is none other than RICHARD DIX. The date in this same hall of* records is July 18, 1895. His father was a soap manufacturer. That's the reason Richard is so clean cut. His father wanted him to go into the soap business with him, but Richard wanted to clean up at something else. So he went into grease-paint. Putting soap behind him forever, Richard got a job in a bank at a salary of $35 a month. He was able to save a little each month, as his soap and cosmetics cost him nothing. While he was softsoaping the bank he got his first job acting. This paid $72 a month and he wondered what he would do with the money. "I'm going to work a year and retire," said the young ex-soap manufacturer. Soon after this he received a telegram from Dallas, Texas, offering him $200 a month to act. Nobody there had ever seen him act, so the manager thought it was safe. Packing a fresh bar of soap in his suitcase, Richard started for Texas — and has been acting ever since. Good news, girls: Richard Dix is not married and never has been. No ex ever comes and holds out her hand for the monthly matrimony payment. The money is all his. He lives at 338 Norwich Drive, Hollywood, with his