Photoplay (Jul - Dec 1931)

The Prince was sitting in a thirty-cent seat, whispering to a girl. Five hundred people around them remained blissfully unaware "No," I said half-way up the stairs, "you are." He joined me on the stairs. "The management," he said, "reserves the right to refuse admission." In polite and circumlocutory England that means quit or they'll call the bouncer. "And the press," I said, "the right to print what they damn well like." After that we went and took a look at him together. He was sitting in a thirty-cent seat, next to a girl whose face I could only dimly see in the darkness. From the lines of her slim shoulders and the shape of her head I judged her to be a goodlooker. She and the Prince conversed in low tones. Five hundred people round them kept their eyes on the screen, blissfully unaware that the Empire's most popular Prince of the Blood sat among them. From the manager I learned that for some time the Prince has visited this little out-of-the-way cinema every week, sometimes twice a week — always in the same circumstances. About eight o'clock one of the Prince's secretaries would telephone the manager. About eight forty-five a young lady arrived and was shown to a prearranged seat. On the stroke of nine the Prince arrived and joined her. Even if anyone had caught a full, clear glimpse of the Prince's face he would not have believed his own eyes. That I was present on this occasion was just bad luck — not for me, but for the Prince, because Fm giving away his secret now. IS there anyone who will blame the Prince for these stolen pleasures? If there is, he must be strangely ignorant of the constant, maddening lack of privacy in which kings and princes have their being. No one knows the real Prince of Wales better than the Navy officers, for a naval cruise is the only real escape from publicity which that cheerful but overburdened young man ever gets. Informal visits to the movies on the part of younger members of the Royal Family are, of course, common enough. But — apart from these quiet excursions of Prince Edward — they are always to fashionable West End cinemas. A visit of King George or Queen Mary to a theater or cinema 18 Illustrated by Va n Arsdale is invariably a state occasion, complete with awning and red carpet on the sidewalk, policemen holding back the crowds, the inevitable press photographers and a roped-off enclosure in the auditorium for the royal party. These visits are not pleasure excursions but duties •'ndertaken to give the royal cachet to worthy and essentially patriotic pictures. The showing of practically all historical films of England's share in the war, such as "Q. Ships," "Mons," and "The Somme," have been publicly attended by the King or Queen — and consequently boosted into greater popularity. WHEN in search of undiluted movie entertainment, Their Majesties hold "command performances" in the privacy of their palaces, Buckingham, Windsor or Balmoral. "The Divine Lady" and "The Gold Rush" are among the famous films which have been shown in this way to the King and Queen. Without any question Charlie Chaplin is the first favorite of every member of the Royal Family, with the possible exception of Princess Mary, who is not renowned for her sense of humor. At least, he was until his last visit to Europe. When "The Gold Rush" was playing in London, young Prince George broke camp to see it. He was then at Aldershot with his regiment and motored to London without leave from his commanding officer, to collect a laugh from the great comedian. Recognized in the lobby, he asked the management to keep his visit a secret. Unhappily, the old spirit of loyalty-at-any-cost does not always obtain in the English show business. Someone telephoned the newspapers. I never heard whether Prince George got solitary confinement or just three days' C. B. The one thing that is certain is that his royal blood would not in the least mitigate the rigorous course of ordinary army discipline. Whatever punishment he got, it was just what would be meted out to any obscure lieutenant of lesser birth. And whatever it was, the Prince would take it on the chin. Talkies are not yet popular with the older and more conservative members of the Royal Family, but the younger members are enthusiastic fans of the audible screen. When in London, the Duke and Duchess of York frequently slip into the Plaza, the popular Paramount house in the West End. They come unannounced and buy their tickets but are, of course, invariably recognized by theater officials and specially escorted to their seats. ON one occasion the Duke of York and his aide secured the last two seats available in the circle (considered in England the best part of the house) greatly to the disgust of a couple who came in immediately after them and who loudly voiced their displeasure at having to stand. The Duke and his companion, unrecognized in the darkness, at once insisted that the couple take their seats while they stood at the back — to the horror and consternation of the Plaza officials. Usherettes in all parts of the house were notified to grab and hold for the Duke the first two vacated seats and, although His Highness did not have to stand more than ten minutes, the incident serves to show that a nobleman can on occasion be as democratic as any fan. Indeed, one may with pardonable pride go further and record that the Duke and Duchess of York have been observed surreptitiously holding hands during the screening of a movie. Not, of course, before their marriage. A bachelor prince never flirts. Of course not! Oh, my, no! The tastes of the princes, as regards the type of film they prefer, vary considerably. The [ please turn to page 116 ]