The New Movie Magazine (Jan-Jun 1932)

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DBIack rjBrown Name Streel Tovm..._ Slate 94 Linda (Continued from page 6) wealth and at least temporary fame by out-high-hatting everyone else, such depreciation of one's own talents and abilities is considered a felony at least. Aside from this handicap (for it is a handicap, and one that inevitably brings about misunderstandings), Linda is a real person. Her bubbling humor on and off the set, her friendliness with everyone from supervisor to property boy, and her dramatic talents have won the approbation of those most haughty critics, the men who make up the "juice gang." For, be it known, studio electricians are the world's toughest audiences. They shudder not at the tantrums of the highest-priced stars; neither do they unbend before the flatteries of the misguided. If you are "regular," they like you; if not, it's just too bad — and their judgment, ninety-nine times out of a hundred is correct. To say that Linda meets their full approval is to put the seal of success on her in the eyes of filmdom. Her behavior during the escape scene in "Sob Sister," for example, indicates why the juicers labeled her a regular. As the fans will recall, Linda, bound hand and foot, is tossed into the kidnapers' secret room, where she persuades little Dickie Moore to burn away her lashings with a candle flame. The director intended to "cheat" this and have the flame barely touch the cord for a moment, but Dickie, in his youthful enthusiasm, thought otherwise. When the scene was made, the boy jubilantly thrust the flame well up against the cord — and also against Linda's wrists — and held it there for several seconds, until the lashing began to blaze. Most actresses in such a predicament would have emitted an undignified yelp and spoiled the scene, with a hurry-call for a doctor and several days' recuperation to follow. But not Linda. Biting her lips, she writhed silently and stood the pain while Santell nodded approvingly at what he thought was a fine bit of histrionics, and the cameras ground on. Finally he called "Cut." An assistant sauntered forward to unfasten the cord. When he saw her blistered wrists he gasped and shouted for a doctor and nurse, but Linda would have none of them. "Just pour on something," she protested. "There are a lot of other scenes to take yet." It was three weeks before the ugly scars began to disappear, but there was never a complaint from Linda. That's one reason why the title of her second picture, "Good Sport," seems so appropriate, although she would become delightfully embarrassed if anyone told her so. Another thing that makes her human on the set is her continual hunger. Blessed with a constitution that enables her to eat anything any time without having to worry about her figure, and taking a natural advantage of this fact to enjoy her meals with an un-Hollywoodian gusto, she keeps accurate track of the time. Some directors, in their absorption, have been known to forget all about the lunch hour — but not when Linda's around. Many of Linda's apparent inconsist encies are explained by her background. Born in Boston into a distinguished family which includes such notables as Professor Albert A. Michelson and Lord Brougham, her parents moved to New York when she was only a month old. There she early developed an ambition to become an actress, but her family thought otherwise. To some conservative persons, there still lurks a flavor of immorality about the stage. So it was decided that she would choose some other field. Obediently, she enrolled in Teachers College and prepared herself to be a schoolmarm. Just try to visualize the cool and brilliant Linda of today, instructing a group of youngsters in their ABC's. Try _ it. Linda couldn't quite see it either, and finally won the family's reluctant consent to enter the Theatre Guild school, from which have come so many of our leading thespians. Here her talents flared. The instructors, recognizing her genius, pushed her ahead and brought her to the attention of Arthur Hopkins, who gave her her first role in "The Devil In the Cheese." Her performance was so notable that it won her the featured part in Hopkins' "The Ivory Door," and her Broadway future seemed assured. But with the calmness that characterizes her every decision, Linda made up her mind that she needed a more varied experience. Accordingly she quitted New York with astonishing suddenness and joined the Hartman stock company in Columbus, Ohio. After a season of this she accepted the offer of a Shubert representative and took a featured role in "Trapped" on the Chicago stage. Next she played a season of Ibsen revivals with Blanche Yurka and then returned triumphantly to New York to win the critics' enthusiasm with her work in "Sweet Stranger" and "Midnight," following this with her sensational playing of the leading role in "June Moon." This in turn led to a Fox screen test, and when the test gave the expected results, they signed her on the dotted line. A week later Linda was on her way to Hollywood and, according to all indications, a commanding position in the film arena. Soon after her arrival, studio officials nominated her without a dissenting vote as one of the three Fox debutante stars for the coming year. This was taking something of a chance, for the other two nominees, Conchita Montenegro and Helen Mack, had had extensive screen experience while Linda had only had her camera test. Their selection was justified, however, by the interest the public took in the heroine of "Sob Sister" and "Good Sport." Now it seems fairly evident that this slender blond youngster, scarcely out of her 'teens, with her fascinating smile and her wide, expressive eyes that are blue when she's happy and gray when she's not, is destined to cast aside her debutante coronet for the crown of full-fledged stardom at an early date. And when that happens, it will be interesting to learn Linda's own reactions. One thing is certain — they will be unexpected, for that's her way. The New Movie Magazine, January, 1932