Photoplay (Jul-Dec 1929)

Exposing the Hollywood Orgy I CONTINUED FROM PAGE 29 I bromides, the spirits of ammonia, the straitjacket and the extra clips of ammunition, and we were set. Promptly at nine the Caesarian chariot rolled up, and at nine-fifteen we were set down on top of one of Hollywood's fifty-seven hills, among the mumbling yuccas. I must admit we were a little taken aback to find many guests assembled, because in the tame and decadent East, revellers don't get up till eight-thirty in the evening. But I let it go, and began making friendly passes at the girls, in my exuberant, boyish way. "Pst," hissed Caesar, "that's out." There, in a corner, lurked the superb Estelle Taylor, dressed in white spangles and red shoes. CARMEL MYERS arrived with the new spouse. Marjorie Daw and Myron Selznick, newlyweds and very serious about it, came early. So did Director Bill Howard and hiswife,and Junior Laemmle, twenty-one-yearold boss of the Universal range. Mr. and Mrs. Jimmy Gleason, dragging their si.x-foot youngster, Russell, arrived in a cloud of nifties. In a corner (Estelle's) crouched Louis Ferdinand, second son of the former crown prince of Germany. The old HohenzoUern motif! And in came Frank Fay and Hal Skelly, two of New York's favorite sons, to lend that raffish Broadway touch. It was perfect. "Hall," I said to myself, clutching the old derringer firmly. "This is it — the real dewberries. Hey, and also Hey! Get purple! Let's see that old stuff. When does the unveiling begin? Leave us have a look at the hoochee-koochee ! " Then, with a crash like a spider falling on a flannel cake, the orgy began! At this point I must confess that things get a little confused in my mind. I seem to remember that, off in their corner, the unhorsed princeling was telling La Belle Taylor a long, rambling story of his life, in what was either rotten English or passable Hoch Deutsch. It seems to me that Mother and Mr. Selznick had a long and inconclusive argument on the relative merits of "iAlibi" and "The Broadway Melody," as if they could be compared or anyone cared a hoot — even a Hoot Gibson. It seems to me that Caesar went around baying, and that Wise Cracker Fay said nothing all evening, and that Miss Myers and the boy friend held hands with all the eloquence of a Harpo Marx, and that Dora Caesar passed vittles. And I am certain that, after inspecting Mr. Gleason's whoopee sox, I engaged him in a long and unimportant discussion of the motion picture industry, its cause and cure. The other guests simply rolled up their sleeves, 'pit on their paddies, chose sides and talked about talkies. My brain was reeling with the unrestrained lavender passion of it all. Momentarily I expected some snappy charades, or a lascivious session at parchesi. After years and years of words, if there had been a clock, it would ha\e struck twelve and knocked it down for a count of twenty. The guests, as if by pre-arrangement, yawned. Then they arose, at masse, and stretched, in regular seventh-inning style. "Well, I have a couple of sequences to write in the morning," said Mr. Gleason, and, whistling his little flock to heel, reeled into the night. The other guests, like wraiths, followed. "Arthur," I said, my brain afire, "it's been nice to meet all these lovely people. Now when does the sin start?" "Sin?" said Caesar. "What sin? This is all there is. Now, if you'll excuse me, I punch the time clock at nine tomorrow. See you in church! Good night!" T SLEPT all the way home in the car. -*■ "Well, Mother," I said at the door of the inn, "I think you talked a good safe draw with Selznick. Do you suppose there's a good debate on tonight, or a New Thought lecture, or perhaps a snappy lying-in-state?" You may think I'm clowning about all this, but I'm not — much, with all due regard to a \'ery lovely party at the Caesars', whom I adore, especially Dora. Hollywood works too hard to monkey around all night over a bottle. The boys and girls are on the set bright and early, especially bright, or else! All the party talk is of pictures and picture people. One good wise crack is a marvelous batting average for an evening of Hollywood debauchery, and it's a wise gag that knows its own father out there. Then, too, it's hard to sin with verve. All the liquor tastes alike, though it has different labels. Namely, it tastes terrible. If you are asked which you prefer — Scotch, rye or gin — ■ say brandy. It will taste just like all the rest, anyway. So, young people, be reconciled to youroldfashioned Eastern sin, with its fights, arguments, brawls and games of post-office and spin-the-pan. Mother, keep the kiddies away from Hollywood. First, they may be talked to death. Second, they'll get to bed so early they won't be able to sleep past noon. And this is fierce training for a career of passionate purple sin! Filmland's Royal Family 1 CONTINUED FROM VXG'E. 37 ] is a virile strain in the Fairbanks men that they should make two women adore them so and that they should so completely change the lives of their women. Doug, Sr., laid the gifts of the world at Mary's little feet. He brought kings and queens and ambassadors to her door, while his son brought rarer gifts to the Winter Garden shoAv girl, Lucille Le Seur. He gave to her an artist's appreciation. Mind you, Joan liad latent \\'ithin her the desire for and appreciation of his gifts. And she has given him her sublime loyalt> . They have stopped going to all the openings. "We got tired of thinking up clever things to say over the radio," says Doug. But it was more than that. They prefer to see a picture after the fanfare is over, when they can wear sweatersand can arrive ™thout being stopped by autograph seekers. Joan has given less time to undignified publirity. As Garbo did when she found herself a star, as Norma Shearer has done. As all the rest. "npHE Fairbanks name has been a handicap -'-to us in many ways," says Joan. "I adore Dodo's father and Mary. We used to go to Pickfair almost every Sunda3' afternoon before we were married. But we go there less 96 now than many other of their friends, because we WON'T be hangers-on. "Oh, we've seen too much of the people who are thrilled to imbecility at an invitation to Pickfair. "We've seen too much of the chiselers who simply exploit Uncle Douglas and Mary for their own purposes. " So we go to the parties to which we arc invited for ourselves alone. " "You see," says Doug, " Dad and Mary have built up their own dynasty. They weren't born that way, you know. They have made their own fame. ""X TERY well, we, Joan and Doug, have * seceded from that union. We will build our own. "We will begin the Crawford-Fairbanks tradition, rather than trade on the PickfoidFairbanlis one. "We've got a lot to live up to. But it concerns ourselves. We've got our own way to make. . "The main thing is to keep our marriage a perfect thing. "That ambition is much keener with us than any hope of mere professional success. "We're not going to let the talk bother us. So much of it has been untrue, anyhow. They said that my entire family objected to Joan. Dad was always crazy about her. They used to romp around this house long before we were married. And mother — well, she did object for awhile but even that's been straightened out. She and her husband. Jack W'hiting, are spending their honeymoon here with us!" The folks at Pickfair are immensely proud of the restrained, conservative lives their children lead, but they have never in any way interfered with the running of their lives. The youngsters have upheld the tradition unknowingly. Or, perhaps, as they wish, they have built up their own tradition. Certainly the most demanding of families could discover no signs of a dissolute chorus giri life at "El Jodo." JOAN'S friends are not the roistering bunch NS'ho used to feed on her generosity. Her clothes, her manners and her speech become the Fairbanks name. But — it's not because she is the «-ife of a Fairbanks. It's because she's Joan Crawford, whose early, haphazard days were only a training school for the woman Joan. Had she married Mike Cudahy her life would have been different. Emotional, artistic as she is, hers is a chameleon personahty. But she and Doug are suited. They are completely happy together.