The Photo-Play Journal (May 1916-Apr 1917)

THE PHOTO-PLAY JOURNAL FOR AUGUST, 1916. PAGE 9 "Rene will know !" she thinks in a flash, and starts into the poorer quarter of town in search of her one-time rival. Peering about the alleys and courts, Wynne is rapidly becoming discouraged when she is greeted cautiously by a nondescript figure, who has followed her tor some little time. "Mr. White is not well, lady, and maybe you'll get him to a hospital or somewhere " So spoke Jimmy* the Rat when he saw her attention was attracted to his cowering person. "Show me where he is," Wynne afterwards recalled having said. And together they went their way in and out of narrow streets with an occasional avoidance of brawling women and unkempt men of tho slum district, which is quite strange to the girl. "In here." Her escort signals before ar ill-looking basement entrance. "He's al1 alone, so I'll go in with you — it's prettv dark." And as Wynne hesitated upon the threshold, The Rat, with drug-soaked nerves and the screaming carnality of his kind, finds the prospect too delightful for deliberation, and with a quick rush, he throws the girl before him into the empty cellai, and, slamming the door, secures it hastily. In the darkness and filth Wynne lies prone, too startled and afraid to even cry out. The Rat falls upon her, working feverishly, but with intelligence, at the fastenings of her clothing. Gradually the girl feels herself passing into unconsciousness, and her nostrils assailed with a familiar but stupefying odor. She is thankful for even such relief, as The Rat's lean hands touch her bare flesh and she realizes how completely at his mercy she is. His foul breath is on her face and neck, and she has the feeling of being enveloped in the squirming coils of a snake, when consciousness departs. When she came back to earth Wynne saw Fritz's kindly face above her, but the sound of David's voice, now strangely strong and confident, caused her to turn her head. Jimmy the Rat was being lifted into a waiting police wagon, and David stood with Rene and Gordon watching for her eyes to open. As soon as she was able to breathe com liililiililllNi'i: But for Fritz, neither would have breathed the pure air again fortably a carriage was called and all returned to the studio in silence. It was there that David, after settling pillows about her with his old-time affection and care, explained : "Rene saw you and The Rat together and wondered. 1 had just come back from Fritz's cousin's farm in Modena, and he told me you had been here asking for me. Starting after you, I met Rene, who told iiininiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiniiniiinii me of seeing you and The Rat together, and we followed, first telephoning your father, who sent Mr. Gordon here." "And it was a lucky thing for you that the coke-head pushed you into a gas-pipe when he got you in the cellar," interrupted Fritz, "because it busted just in time for the gas to put you both out in chorus !" "Yes, my dear," smiled David ; "your fall broke a gas connection, and the escaping gas would have finished you both, only Fritz broke in the trap door in the house above and dragged you out. And it is only by accident that Reine saw you both go into the place, so we were able to find you promptly." As the others withdrew slightly, David bent closer to his wife and said earnestly : "I am cured of all desire for drugs, Wynne. You need have no hesitation going home to your father and the man you love. I shall make no effort to fight any steps he may advise you to take to free yourself from me." Wynne looked into his eyes long and earnestly. She realized that it was another thing beside her lover and husband which had caused all their trouble. She felt that it no longer had power to influence their lives. Without a word she put her arms about his-neck and together they knelt until late into the evening, their souls welded together in the crucible of suffering. When speech came to them again the others had long been gone, and only the old janitor's voice could be heard below stairs, as he sang unmusically but whole-heartedly while preparing what he afterward spoke of as the first wedding breakfast he ever cooked in the middle of the night ! (From the Triangle drama by Chester Withey and Roy Somerville, featuring Norma Talmadge, Marguerite Marsh and Tully Marshall. ) BOBBY THE WONDER BOY HOW HE GOT A START— AND WHAT HE DID WITH IT SCAR WILDE in his fairy tale, "The Young King," relates in a masterly manner, an experience which came to a poor shepherd who was suddenly informed of his right to regal honors. While Bobby Harron may be truthfully described as the Young King of the photoplay, nothing makes him so wild as the suggestion that he was handed the honors at random. In fact, he won them at the Biograph studio (where "random" is unknown), and only by several years of hard work. But there is a similarity obtaining in the case of Bobby and the Oscar Wilde juvenile monarch in that both were of humble employment when the opportunity for regal honors came their way. Bobby was not a shepherd (sheep-herders they call them these days), nor was he even a poor poet or actor. Let us interview the young mart in the approved style. We'll ask him all the usual questions and a few unusual ones when he's off his guard, and mayhap much will be revealed. "Will you have a cigar. Mr. Harron ?" began Bennie, the irrepressible, as we cornered the gallant youth in the Griffith studio on a sunny day. "I only smoke cigarettes," was the reply, as Bobby gave us his attention, "and it's against the rules to smoke here anyhow — you ought to know that, Bennie." Bennie almost blushed and we made mental note of the depravity of modern youth, which will smoke cigarettes after all the Hubbard literature which has been circulated decrying them. "First thing is to ask his age," whispered Bennie in a ghastly aside, and as I nodded approval, he questioned our victim in a tone of authority which well becomes him, and the interview was started. "I was born on the twelfth of April, twenty-one years ago," said Bobby. "Until about six years ago I attended the public schools in New York. Then, feeling that I could learn no more from books, I set out to find a position. "1 was doomed to disappointment at the start, for it was a job I found. That of errand boy at the Biograph studio in Fourteenth Street, New York, at a salary of three dollars a week. "My present state of opulence is due to the poverty and penuriousness of photoplay producers in those days. For when an office boy was needed in a scene they pressed me into service instead of hiring a juvenile actor for the part." "Tell us about your first part in a picture," we chorused "I remember it well," responded the willing narrator. "Edward Dillon, who is now directing here, inveigled me into the camera's range. 'Bobby's Kodak' was the title of the play, and Mr. Dillon was cast as my parent. I had only to annoy my sister's suitor when he appeared in a spooning mood. "The greatest difficulty I experienced was refraining from taking frequent peeks at the camera and operator — to see if they were on the job and not missing any of my capers. After numerous reprimands for that, I managed to resist the lure of the lens and was in turn patted on the back by the director and told I was a. clever boy." "Did you know what a good actor you were then?" queried Bennie; seriously. "Well, I had my suspicions. But they were entirely unsupported at first. Then Mr. Griffith took notice of me'. He was interested enough to drill me in scenes, and I eagerly followed his instructions. (Continued on page 19)