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OLD SWEETHEARTS OF MINE
Being the Frank Confessions of Handsome Wallace Reid, the Paramount Star, Who is Appearing in "Nan of Music Mountain" at the ...... Theatre.
The first one, I think, was ray kindergarten teacher in St. Louis, about twenty years ago. She had such wonderful fuzzy yellow hair, and her nose .crinkled beautifully when she smiled— -which was often. Besides, she used to let me carry her bag and once I fought a small urchin who put a mouse in her desk — not that I didn't enjoy the consequent upheaval quite as much as he did,— -but just to prove that I really was what she called me— her knight.
Since then I have battled for many a fair lady, — all of whom I have loved— in the scenario— of course. Among these the great Geraldine Farrar stands out prominently in my mind. For her I have fought in bull fights and battled with lance and sword in "Carmen" and "Joan the Woman" respectively. Later in "The Woman God Forgot" and "The Devilstone" I have loved her madly.
Somehow, though, most of my screen sweethearts have been blonds — there was Cleo Ridgely, the stunning-looking girl with whom I played in "The Golden Chance," "The Love Mask," "The Selfish Woman," "The House of the Golden Windows" and "The Yellow Pawn." By the time I was beginning to think I should be scheduled to play opposite demure ladies with golden curls for the rest of my life, they gave me beautiful Anita King, she of the straight, raven locks, with whom I made "The Golden Fetter" and "The Squaw Man's Son" — -and a great deal of fun we had at it, too. Miss King is one of the best "fellows" I know.
But it was not to last, for another fair haired "sweetheart" next appeared, this being Myrtle Stedman of the liquid voice and melting eyes (I read that about her somewhere). We did two rather tragic pictures entitled "The Prison Without Walls" and "The World Apart."
Came next sminy Kathlyn Williams with whom I did "Big Timber" and a patriotic film entitled "The Thing We Love." Others are Dorothea Abril and Ann Little, not to mention Mae Marsh, whose battling southern sweetheart I was in "The Birth of a Nation."
Strange to say, however, the real sweetheart, she to whom I still send violets regularly, is a pronounced brunette. She does not crinkle her nose when she laughs, moreover, and her hair is perfectly straight. Dorothy Davenport, who is looking over my shoulder while I'm writing this in our home at Hollywood, California, near the Paramount studios, says she will probably sue me for libel — for, she insists, it does curl— on rainy days, at least, around her ears.