Photoplay (Jul - Dec 1916)

110 Photoplay Magazine esting, or not? What do you say to that?'' 'Briscoe paused almost triumphantly. "Yes," Holt admitted, and then sat in thoughtful silence, tapping the blotting pad before him with a pencil balanced between his fingers. For a long time he pondered, and then he shook his head slowly. "Granting all you say, Tom," he said, "that sort of picture would only interest a select minority." "That remains to be seen. And. of course, now we're at the nib of the thing. Will you, speaking for the Graphic Company, permit me to make that sort of a picture?" His inspiration suddenly flamed up again. "Why, damn it. Holt, this is the chance of a century ! Graphic'll be made forever ! We'll be doing something that'll send our names down in history." "Yes, and ourselves into a receivership. This is idealism of the rankest sort, Tom, the sort that doesn't pay." "In dividends?" "Yes, in dividends." "But Holt, that sort of picture has got to come. I know it ! I feel it !" "LefGeorge do it." The old catch-phrase voiced the inevitable attitude of finance towards the new and risky. Briscoe exhaled a long breath. "I knew the profit question was where we'd break," he said in an altered tone. "But I'll stake my reputation that a picture of this kind would create a furore." "Possibly." The director recognized the signs. Considerate and patient as Holt had been, Briscoe knew he would be immovable where the interests of the Company were concerned. And he respected this attitude, for there had been a time in the past when for hard, ruthless practicality there had been no equal to Tom Briscoe in the Graphic forces. But he felt that his own artistic salvation and the future of the Graphic Company depended upon the defeat of this attitude now. Achieving fortune, success and fame, he had not been content to stand still, but had resolved to make a constructive effort for the progress of his art ; to leave his name written across the page of its development. And he desired to make that effort now. He looked at Holt, and in the intensity of his desire he felt the impulse to reveal something of this to the other. "Holt," he said, "I see your point of view exactly, and understand it. You're doing what you think is for the best interests of the company, and if you turn down this idea of mine, all right. That's up to you. But I'll still make those pictures when the time comes, somewhere else if not here. But I want to tell you something." He rested one pudgy, square-ended forefinger on the desk leaf for emphasis. "In my life I've had two ambitions : to make the pictures I've described, and to discover and train a star who would act in them." He spoke slowly in his earnestness. "I think I have found that star in June Magregor," he went on. "She has what any actor needs for greatness — talent, imagination, brains ; and what's better still, she knows what I want. She has been working hard and sincerely ever since she came here, and now I think she's ready." He paused, and then added with intense conviction: "If I should succeed, it would make her the biggest actress in the business." As he spoke. Holt's eyes had narrowed again and his face had assumed a certain expressionlessness. And yet, there was about his attitude a hint of rigid attention, motionless but alert. "Of course. Miss Magregor is a good property." he said matter-of-factly, "and is valuable to the company. She is the best publicity proposition we have, and we have managed to keep her story enough in the dark to make it new, live stuff when it's released." He hesitated as if pondering. "And I'll admit she has talent," he added presently. "I think she's capable of almost any development under die right direction. But this new-fangled business of yours — !" "She's the only woman in the world I'd care to try it with," said the director bluntly. "We understand each other, and I want to do it for her sake as well as my own. That's what I brought her out here for." Holt's brow knit, and he tapped on his blotting pad for a moment with his pencil. Then he stood up suddenly. "I can't settle all this in a minute, Tom," he said. "I'll say frankly that I'm not in favor of your proposition, but I'm not going to turn it down finally this morning when it seems to mean so much to you." He mused a moment. "Besides, perhaps after all there's a gambling chance of success for the Company in it. Come back at four o'clock and I'll give you my answer."