Photoplay (Jul - Dec 1919)

5^ Photoplay Magazine qualified to write my first play. It was called La Belle ^larie' — and it ran for five years." In amazing succession Hal Reid wrote such old melodramas as "Human Hearts," "The Knobs of Tennessee," "The Street Singer," "The l*eddler," and on through the one hundred and twenty-six, he can't begin ti) name them all, or half of ihcm, even. There is an interesting story attached to "Human Hearts." "When I was green in New York," said Mr. Reid, "absolutely unknown, I carried the manuscript of 'Human Hearts,' my play which was to run for twentyseven years and is still running, up and down Broadway for three years looking for a protiucer. From office to olVice I trudged, with no success. Finally one rainy day I found the Harms brothers, D. W. Truss. Gus Williams and John T. Kelly seated in a room in Truss' office. I went in and asked them if they would listen to a play. They pulled imaginary guns, clubs, razors, and the like, and declined to listen to a word of it. I was desperate— my board was long overdue — so I cried : 'I'll tell you what I will do: let me read it and if I don't make you all cry, real tears, you don't have to consider the play. If I do make you cry, you produce it.' "They shouted with laughter, and more for sport than anything else, agreed to my proposition. And before I'd finished reading the third act I caught them all cr>ing, and reminded them of the agreement. They were game — and Harms Brothers and Truss made the production, to a big success.'' After "Human Hearts' it was comparative!)' easy sailing. Plots seemed to spring from his brain like excuses from the minds of ordinary mortals. He switched his locale from east to west; he wrote about the south and about the north. And in all his plays he put that same punch and appeal that made the hardened old theater managers rub their hands across their eyes as they listened. Now Reid is with Universal and he finds much the same demands from the screen public that he found from his audiences in his melodramatic days. "They want to be amused— but they must be moved. Too few photoplays have the great human interest, or heart interest, which has always been absolutely essential to any kind of success. So many people demand this quality." He said he went into pictures in self-defense. "Well." he explained. "I had sixteen plays on the circuit drawing me satisfactory royalties, when one by one these A Theatre "Built for Mothers WHEN W. L. Shelton built the Ashland theatre in Kansas City he decided that he could encourage greater matinee attendances tiy providing for a "crying room'' where children, prone to lacrimote cither over displeasing movies, safety pins or young teeth, could sob in entire contentment — a maid being in constant attendance to see that the little choristers didn't burst a lung. The instant a child starts wailing in the audience, a narrow strip of white light is reflected across the bottom of the movie screen and on this, without disturbing the pictures, the manager sends this message to headquarters: "WILL VOU PLEASE TAKE YOUR CHILD TO THE CRYING ROOM?" Aside from the "crying room," the Ashland theatre boasts a real baby carriage garage, so that parents may feel assured their cabs will not be stolen during their stay in the theatre. heretofore prosperous plays began to come in and rattle into the store-house. I asked why — and the answer was, 'The Movies.' Managers told me theaters which used to run my plays were being turned into picture houses. But I only laughed — a long sarcastic contemptuous laugh — and I sat on my large comfortable front porch looking out on the Atlantic and waited two years for the picture fad to pass. It didn't — so I figured that the only way to get even with pictures was to get into them." He began all over again — in the scenario department at Selig's. It was an entirely new game, and Hal Reid wasn't a young man. But he soon caughi on, and with the same persistence that carried "Human Hearts" to success he stuck until he had mastered most points in picture-writing. While he was at Selig's he broke his son William Wallace into the game; and when he went to Vitagraph, there to write and direct, Wallace went along. From Vitagraph to Reliance— Hal wrote some of those old Reliance dramas in which Wallace appeared — and then to Universal, where Reid pere conducted the scenario department, later edited the animated weekly, served as "general utility," and finally became "idea man" — and in case you are puzzled as to the meaning of "idea man" it means that he has to supply ideas for anything and ever>'thing • titles of Universal pictures; captions — and when Universal wanted some big male personality to put in a smashing new serial they called Reid into consultation and asked him about it. Reid came back a little later: "Why don't you sign Jim Corbett?" Reid is a tall man, with a flashing glance and a kindly smile. He rose and walked to a window which overlooked Broadway. I wonder if he thought of the many times he's trudged that street, looking for a producer to take his plays; how now he is installed in a comfortable office on that street — a man who has written more plays than any living American, whose memories include many successes which found a place in American hearts, and who is. finally, in the sunset of life, enjoying a new activity instead of a retrospect of past glories! He turned, and said, casually. "Ever see my son Wallace in pictures?" I said I had. "He's coming along; coming along. You know that boy never would take any help from me. He always came to me for advice, generally finding that his decisions and mine coincided. He was with me — but always on his own."