Photoplay (Jan-Jun 1920)

Photoplay Magazine 33 knew that his earliest visits had been paid to Maude Adams. But Miss Adams' vows to cehbacy would not be broken. The novelist carried his disappointment to the youngest member of her company. Whether Davis' name was on the list in the Barrymore romantic archives we were not sure. But if it was they agreed to forget it, for Ethel Barrymore was a bridesmaid at his first wedding, when his bride was Miss Clark of Chicago. When Bessie McCoy had replaced her in the domestic circle, Miss Barrymore was a frequent guest at their home at Mount Kiscoe. During that domestic interlude in her hard dancing life. Miss McCoy showei strong student propensities. While she sat with the library glasses shpping from her dainiy nose, her once restless feet inactive, a book held before her in both hands, her husband exclaimed to their guest: "I married a dancer, and look at that!' In those days of many wooings it was said that Ethel Barrymore received at least one proposal of marriage a week. Some came wooing with gems. She showed us a magnificent solitaire ring. "I shall have to write a note and send this back," she said. "Why not accept it as a tribute to your art? I hear that is being done in London." I mentioned a musical comedy star who had invaded Mayfair and was receiving jewels by every messenger. "But this isn't a tribute to my art." Sh grasped the shining thing with determination and went to the second floor back to write th letter. Already, though she had not come into he dramatic own, she was admired of young gir They studied her gowns and copied them. At a tea in a Fifth Avenue drawing room — for the Knickerbockers had followed the example of the Britons and Miss Barrymore was "invited everywhere" — a woman who poured the tea admired "the sweet simplicity and absolute charm" of her frock. "I bought it for fifteen dollars," was her answer to the compliment. Her superb height, her s'ow, graceful carriage, emphasized the beauty of the dress. These and her girhsh slimness It can never be truly said of Ethel Barrymore ^ that her slenderness was a blessing that brightened for her only when it took its flight. I remember that she stood before a full-length mirror in the dining room surveying herself in a new peach colored taffeta and appreciatively stroking her hips. "I am so glad my hips are f!at," she said with admiring candor. At this time, while she was ripening into twentythree. Miss Barrymore was ambitious in a relaxed, serene way. Not tensely, aggressively, pugnaciously so, but wistfully, hopefully, in a minor key. "I think I have played all the bad parts that were ever written," she said reflectively once at a gathering of the lodgers. ■"What kind of part would you like to play?" asked an animated question mark among them. "Any kind that is good. I would play a Hottentot if it were a good part," was her answer. "Julietr' a si k e d the human inter rogation point. '■No," she answered with a slight smile. "Rosalind." Opportunity came in the guise of Mine. Trentoni in "Captain Jinks." The girl who wanted any good part welcomed the opportunity, i n her gentle, unworldly way. But three generations of actor inheritance had made her sensitive to conditions. She mentioned the name of an actor who would play opposite her in one of the climaxes of the Clyde Fitch comedy. "He intends to "hog the scene,' " she remarked in her even manner. "I can see that coming." It was characteristic of her that no tirade against the poacher followed. She had made a statement. That was enough. It is her habit. Ethel Barrymore is of gregarious habit. She likes her kind. When some of the lodgers in what the newspapers familiarly termed "Maude Adams' Adamless Eden" had gathered together for a chat before they fell into dreams, the girl, coming home from the Garrick, would stop and tap on the door. "Come in." The door opened and her lovely face appeared. "What's going on here?" she would inquire and would join the group for a chat. Occasionally the chats were pointedly (Continued on page 120) EtKel w=s little diffeient in 1906, wKen she pl--.yed the title role in "Alice Sit-by-the-Fire."