Photoplay (Jan-Jun 1920)

I02 Photoplay Magazine not ugly can toss long curls over her face, be photographed in a half light and label the result, 'the latest portrait of Mary Picklord.' Anyway, while we all managed to get such pictures, mine was the one that seemed to impress the judges as looking the most like Mary. I won the contest and was sent for to come to New York. "Ah,' I thought, 'this is the beginning of my wonderful career.' "Well, it was nothing of the sort. All I did was to report at a studio e\ery day and then go home again. They gave me nothing to do — not even a test to see how I would screen. My mother was entirely out of patience by then. She said a girl not seventeen should be at school. For the sake of peace I consented to go to school — but in New York. I lived with some friends of mother '.s uptown and each day before going to my classes I reported at the studio. Finally I grew tired of being told 'Nothing doing today' and I found another studio. This one offered me $25 a week and I took it gladly. It was several months before I was engaged by Fox. "How I worked that first 3'ear! I was frightened to death every minute I was in the studio. I knew just how bad I was and every night I useil to go home and cry for hours. I hope no one thinks I am satisfied with my work or that I have any illusions about myself. I am just beginning to learn things." "I've played just one role I liked."' she told me sadly. "I put my hair up and my skirts down. When the picture was released I began to receive letters from everj'where begging me to be a kid again. When I had read about 10.000 of these wails I bade farewell to my aspirations. After all, it is better, I suppose, to do what people like to see you do than sonieihing you like to do — and perhaps would do badly." What do you think of that? I gazed into those baby-blue eyes which regarded me with such a serious air. "You never thought all that out by yourself," I accused. '"You learned it, word by word." June laughed. Then she spoke indulgently. "Don't you know that I arrange all my own affairs, take care of my own business and pass on my own scenarios, directors and leading men?" Her tone was kind and her manner gentle. She had forgiven my doubts. "I adore my mother." said June warmly. "But she knows nothing of business. She is happy at home with a book and is not to be bothered with my uninteresting affairs. She often comes shopping with me, however, and we go to lunchecn and have nice times together. I think girls make a mistake when they lean on their mothers and drag them with them constantly everywhere they go. It isn't fair to either mother or daughter."' Just then Madame Petrova entered the dining room and v/as given a table near ours. As we left, I introduced little June, who admired Petrova without a trace of the envy women are supposed — by men — to have for each other. "You are very pretty, my dear," said Petrova, bearing heavily on the "very." "Did you ever see such beautiful eyes?"' whispered June. I felt lonesome and put my mind on my new fur coat, murmuring "Handsome is as handsome does," the maxim with which my mother used to comfort me when I wept before the mirror. In June's car we raced up Fifth Avenue. "Do come to four or five hotels with me," she begged. "I'm moving in from the country tomorrow morning, the trunks are on their way and I have no home yet. Reservations are ordered every place but no one will assure me of a roof tomorrow night." Having disposed of the Plaza, Savoy, Netherlands and Majestic, we sped down to the Knickerbocker. No hope anywhere. "Something will turn up," June said gaily. "I must think what to do next. I hate being balked. Ah, I have it! I "11 see the manager." She disappeared and when she returned she wore the smile of one who has left the battlefield bearing the shield of the enemy. "This is my address until I find an apartment," she told me. ''I was betting on the June Caprice smile," I answered as we parted. SAVE A LIFE AT CHRISTMAS TIME! A PRETTY good way to celebrate Christmas, it seems to us, is to save a life. That's a large order, isn't it? But when you think that by buying enough of a certain kind of Christmas seal you'll be lowering the death rate from tuberculosis in the United States — well, isn't it worth while? The National Tuberculosis Association is doing its best to fight the plague. Statistics are unpleasant things, but like most unpleasant things, they have to be faced sooner or later. Consider, then, that last year there were 150,000 deaths from tuberculosis in the United States. There are at least one million active cases to-day. And there is something you can do about it. There are more than 650,000,000 Christmas seals now on sale in all parts of the country. They are only one cent apiece. They are decorated with the quaint figure of Santa Claus, immortal symbol of good cheer and good will that means Christmas; and they are just the thing to stick on holiday packages and greetings. All of these stamps must be sold if the National Tuberculosis Association and its 1,000 affiliated organizations are to have the sum necessary for carrying out its plan for 1920. Let's clean "em out. Do your share! BUY RED CROSS SEALS! The emblem of ttie N. T. A. Aren't these kiddies worth saving? v