Photoplay (Jan-Jun 1935)

Cal York's Gossip of Hollywood [ CONTINUED FROM PAGE 128 IF you like to know the gentlemen back 'of your entertainment, meet Graham Baker and Gene Towne, the busiest writing team in the village. At the moment they are whipping together a little dish for George Raft, putting the finishing touches on a national broadcasting program, and have just completed a play about censors which will hit Broadway next season. Their offices always look as if an eternal cocktail party was going on and it's a mystery when they get all the work done — but they do. Graham is tall and solemn-looking, nicknamed "Reverend Davidson," but that's only a front. He's about as solemn as behind the scenes at a burlesque show. Gene is short and wide and talks sixteen to the dozen, whether anybody else is talking or not. He is the contact-man, salesman and table-hopper of the team, while Graham puts in the heart interest. When they get stuck with a situation, Gene goes to a party and Graham hops in his car in the middle of the night, all alone, and drives to Caliente. He turns right around and drives back, figuring, "Why would the audience like this guy? What does he do? What lias he? Why does the girl fall for him?" After talking to himself for six hours, he has the situation well in hand. Gene has been untying the knots in his own way, so the next day they get together, with thousands of people milling in and out of the office, and block out their story. It's a good trick if you can do it. They write only originals and have a healthy contempt for the boys who merely translate somebody's story for the screen. The BakerTowne team starts with a name, a title, a situation — or simply from scratch — and goes on from there to a complete story, which a director can take and shoot from, as is. JOHN LODGE, Boston acting blueblood, ^received a letter from an old man who said that as he knew Mr. Lodge was a member of the elite, he supposed he had a silk top hat. This man said his ambition for years had been to have a silk hat to wear to lodge meeting. He was now getting old and hoped just once to wear a silk hat to lodge before he died. Would Mr. Lodge please send him one of his old ones? Lodge showed the letter to Claudette Colbert. "What would you do?" he asked. Claudette said, "I'd find out his size and send him one. I'll chip in with you." So John Lodge bought a silk hat, after writing for the size, and sent it, and the old man realized his life's ambition. r^ORA SUE COLLINS is the little twinkle, ^^and the great big stars are Norma Shearer, Greta Garbo, Loretta Young, Claudette Colbert, Myrna Loy, William Powell and Edward G. Robinson. And here is what Cora Sue thinks about them: " I think Miss Shearer is nice. "I think Miss Garbo is lovely. "I think Miss Young is nice. "I think Miss Colbert is lovely. "I think Miss Loy is nice. "I think Mr. Powell is lov — is, nice. "I think Mr. Robinson is nice." And that's what a little Twinkle thinks. 130 THE thoroughness of Cecil B. DeMille al' ways awes me. Take this "The Crusades" picture, for instance. Right now C. B. is deep in all sorts of literary lore and research about crusading knights. But he doesn't stop with the knights. He goes right down to particulars. Two of them are falcon hunting and medieval armor. I was amazed to discover how much the man had unearthed about what I should deem rather incidental things to the picture. Falcon hunting, I found out, is a very technical sport. It has its own vernacular and its very fine points. To quote from a letter C. B. received from a falconeer about his sporting birds: It starts out tragically: "One of my little The first step in the making of a set. It's for Marlene Dietrich's picture, "The Devil Is a Woman." Hans Dreier is the artist doing a sketch, then the models are made, and finally the finished set merlins (a type of hawk) was killed and eaten by the big peregrine (another type) leaving me only two birds. The peregrine is the more impressive looking on the fist, but has a rather heavy style in the air . . . she can go from 40 to 50 miles per hour . . . will fly from a quarter mile to the lure . . . The remaining merlin . . . will stoop and dash at the lure . . . and when she misses shoot up a hundred feet to come to a stall ..." All that about the technique of a bird! It seems that there really is no such thing as a "falcon" bird. A falcon is merely a trained sporting hawk. Goshawks, peregrines, merlins and golden eagles make the best falcons, and their training is a life's work. The ancient sport, which flourished among the nobility during the middle ages, has its modern stronghold in the Hawking Club of England, which numbers a thousand-odd members. In America the most enthusiastic groups of falconeers live in Massachusetts, although Denver, Colorado, is rapidly becoming a hawking center. About the only sporting equipment require for hawking is the heavy perch glove, whic; keeps the lightning bird's talons from piercin the arteries of the wrist, and a blinding ca] which keeps him from becoming all hot am bothered until just the right time. DeMille's research on mediaeval armor wa even more thorough. He spent days at th Metropolitan Museum in New York and atth Field Museum in Chicago. Furthermore, h has imported Juliano Arechea, the world's sol exclusive maker of armor, whose forge is nea Pamplona, Spain. Arechea is creating th correct mode of boiler plate for the period t< be used in the film. There were definite fashions in iron wear ii those distant days, and only Arechea and few scattered cranks on the subject know thi answer. Sometimes even a tiny rivet will dat< a suit of mail as much as fifty years fron another. The surprising thing uncovered by DeMillt in his armorial research is that, contrary U popular belief, the gentlemen who wore th< suits were not runts as compared to our moderr football heroes, but instead, bigger in fram( and meat. Henry Wilcoxon, who will play "Richard Coeur de Lion" in "The Crusades" is a sizeable fellow. Yet he floats around in mosl of the relic suits. Strangely enough, the only parts of ancient tin suits which gave Mr. Wilcoxon I close fit were the helmets. Or maybe that's not so strange after all. Mr. Wilcoxon is an actor. In fact, he's a British actor. WELL, Bill Powell's much publicized and long awaited bachelor's castle in Beverly Hills is now completed, and everything you'vd read about it is true. Here are just a few of the wonders which made me open my eyes — see if you've ever run across any of them before — Collapsible walls between the living room and the drawing room. If Bill wants a comfortable small party, he leaves things as is; if he wants a mob, down go the walls and it's all one big room. Vanishing closets in the bedrooms — just try and find 'em. I couldn't. An amazing voice throwing business by, which from any room in the house Bill can greet his guests approaching from the outside. Likewise, he can hear everything they say as they arrive — and what's more important— as they're leaving. (Lets him know where hi stands.) A central radio with loud speakers in every room, built in. Electrically washed and temperature-regulated air throughout the house. In the wine cellar, a gadget keeps it always at fifty-five degrees, which is healthy for most vintages. Tap beer in the bar. A robot kitchen that is beyond description. Even peels potatoes and shells peas while you wait. Buttons that let down couches from unsus pected walls when you push them. It's quite a place, as you can imagine. The next time I go up I'm going to ask Bill if thf place also has lights and gas and all the moderr conveniences. W. F. HALL PRINTING (