The Photo-Play Journal (Jul 1919-Feb 1921)

24 Photo-Play Journal WE were being whirled along through the streets of New York in a closed taxi. The day was a hot one, and both Larry Semon and I were very much annoyed. The $3,600,000 comedian was perspiring freely. We had both tried to secure an open car, but all New York had got there before us. "If I had known a Turkish bath was on the schedule, I would much rather have taken it in the usual way and not in a taxi," Larry exclaimed, mopping his forehead. "Oh, for the cool breezes of my beloved California." Larry's speech clearly signified he must be diverted. We were taking a ride with a definite objective in mind, but outside of said objective, it was my intention to learn from Larry the real facts of his life "Mr. Semon — " I began. "Don't mister me, Hal," he grunted. "Call me Larry." "Larry," I continued, "I've been commissioned to tell the true story of your life for the readers of the Photo-play Journal and I want to begin at the beginning. I understand you were fifteen years in your father's vaudeville troupe before you became a cartoonist." Larry immediately sat up straight and his alert and dynamic personality asserted itself. "My father was a great man and I'll prove it," his keen eyes became fondly reminiscent in expression. "While he was still a boy, my grandfather induced Hermann the Great to tour America. The magician interested himself in my father (Zera Semon) and taught him all that he knew of the so-called Black Art. "Later, father invented many of the tricks performed on the stage and by amateur magicians, and about thirty years ago originated most of the feats performed by traveling entertainers. He became known far and wide as Zera the Great. "My mother and sister also traveled with him, assisting in the work; thus all my earlier memories are of the stage. I was thoroughly trained in pantomime before I was twelve years old. Before long I was actually assisting father in most of his difficult stunts. "Then father and mother decided that sister should not follow a stage career and sent her to a boarding-school. My mother also gave up the work so that she could live near her. Father had decided that the traveling show life CARTOONED INTO THE CINEMA By HAROLD C. HOWL was not the thing for his womenfolk. It hurt him keenly to be separated from them, so he kept me with him. "In those days every magician carried along with him a complete vaudeville show, as variety theaters were not common. Quite frequently we would arrive in a town and be forced to build our own stage in a poorly lighted, scantily furnished hall that reminded one of a huge barn. It was some life." Larry's voice trailed off into silence and for a full minute he lived over the past. He pulled himself back to me with a visible effort. "The first time I made the trip to the coast," he continued, "it seemed as if we would never get there. They didn't have fast expresses in those days, and accommodations were very poor at their best. I was used to roughing it, however, for quite often we were obliged to sleep on benches in some hall and frequently prepared our mealafter every member of the company foraged for his own victuals. "Acting was* no velvety proposition then. My father became interested in ventriloquism, and during his last year" devoted all his time to a mastery of this art. He is spoken of today as the greatest ventriloquist that ever lived. He invented the talking hand. It was a doll painted on the back of his hand with a cloth thrown over it to resemble a dress. He also carried along Jim, Joe and Mary Brown, the talking manikins. "Father was a great man," Larry's eyes brimmed with pride, "and he frequently asked me to quit the stage. He had taught me cartooning, so I followed his wishes and that is how I came to go on the New York Evening Tehgram and The Evening Sun." Everyone knows that when the screen gained a great comedian, the Fourth Estate lost a promising cartoonist. 'Among his other accomplishments, father was an artist. It was his ambition that I become a cartoonist. I attended art school, and when I was featured in the Sun I thought I had reached the pinnacle. I was at the goal and had fulfilled my parent's request." "How did you come to go on the screen ?" I queried. "I am glad you asked me that," he answered with a pleased sparkle in his eyes. "My father was again the inspiration. He was interested in those books you used to run your thumb over to get the effect of motion pictures. He experimented with them and became associated with a firm that made them. Later he turned to penny slotmachines. You remember the kind. You turned a crank Larry with his famous shimmying cat