Photoplay (Jan-Jun 1930)

Lj u d dyGgttfliiflifrB r When we say that Buddy Rogers was a riot in New York, we mean it. Here is Mr. Rogers being boosted into the Paramount Theater's stage door by cops and attaches a kUT your head out that window "again and I'll pinch you!" That's what the New York cop said to Buddy Rogers. The scene was the Paramount Theater where Buddy was acting as master of ceremonies. Hundreds of flappers, not content with watching their idol in the theater, had crowded around the stage door. Buddy smiled at them from his dressing room window, thinking they would go away. Instead they stayed and, every time Buddy smiled, more collected. At last they became a traffic menace and the law stepped in. Buddy had found that it was impossible to make the trip from the theater to the Ambassador Hotel without being mobbed, so he moved into the Astor, right across the street. Even then, he had to take a taxi and drive around the block several times before he dared to get out. Buddy is Hollywood's contribution to Broadway. He's the one and only Western master of ceremonies to knock the White Way cold, break theater box-office records and set the flappers wild. Strangely enough, it was Buddy's idea. He didn't know what he was letting himself in for. He had played the role of a jazz band leader in " Close Harmony" and the pep and personality stuff got into his blood. Thanks to a hurry-up teacher he had learned to play the piano, pretty loud and pretty jazzy, and to sing. He had bought a little organ for S60 and, between scenes in his dressing room, wheezed out a melody or two. Saxophone and cornet weren't hard and he didn't feel embarrassed with a baton. BUT when he suggested going to New York for a week's engagement, officials shook their heads. "Too much competition in the big town, my boy," they said sagely. But Buddy persuaded them to let him try. He felt perfectly at ease on the stage. He has camera fright every time he begins a new picture, but the theater held no terrors for him. The flaps caused him all the trouble while he filled his engagements, a week in New York and a week in Brooklyn. He made his first entrance by coming up from the pit playing SS By Alice Ingram Young Mr. Rogers of Olathe and Hollywood captures the Big Town's heart the organ. He lost six handkerchiefs a day, for every time he appeared some girl in the first row would snatch the hankie from his pocket and dash from the theater with her trophy. From eleven A. m. until midnight, Buddy remained at the theater. The house was packed every performance, but most of the girls arrived at the first show and stayed through. This annoyed the manager. He couldn't make money like that, so he announced after every performance that Buddy would appear at the stage door. There was always a stampede. Then they had to buy another ticket to get back in. There was one young lady as persistent as an insurance agent. Every show found her seated in the front row and she was always first in line at the stage door. She followed the actor to Brooklyn and when he left the theater on the last night she shouted after him, "I'll be seeing you in Hollywood, Buddy." He expected to discover her at the station upon his return. Several girls rushed on the stage during the performance. Once, in Brooklyn, a little boy marched up on the stage and insisted on reciting a little speech. He said it six times before Buddy could shut him off. EVERY night when Buddy returned to his hotel there were hundreds of messages for him. "Call Dorothy Mackaill at such and such a number," or " Dick Arlen is in town. He wants you to give him a ring." At first he believed and called. Always a feminine voice answered the phone. "Oh please forgive me. I'm not Dorothy Mackaill, but I just wanted to hear your voice again." Many got to see him by insisting that they were sent by their school papers to interview him. Invariably the list of questions ended with: "Now how can / get in pictures?" Buddy has returned. He looks thinner and there's a trace of world weariness in his face. He sighs when you ask him about those hectic weeks. "Gee," he says, mopping his brow, "I'm glad to be back in Hollywood where nobody knows me!"