Pictures and the Picturegoer (Jan-Dec 1925)

MARCH 1925 Pictures ar\d Pichjrepver This lime, friendless and alone in profli New York, she would leap from the lice to the branches oi the great sucalyptus tree that grew hard by Unng performances like these were a tant inspiration to Morton (iill He new that he was not yet tit to act in udi scenes -to appear opportunely in the ist reel of each instalment and save [ortense for the next one. Hut he was oofident a day would come. On the same wall he faced also a series t photographs of himself. These were tills to he one day shown to a director vho would thereupon perceive his screen nerits. There was Merton in the natty •eked coat, with his hair slicked hack in lie appro\ ed mode and a smile upon his ace; a happy, careless college youth. There was Merton in tennis flannels, his lair nicely disarranged, jauntily holding i borrowed racquet. Here he was in a rench coat and the cap of a lieutenant, ;rim of face, the jaw set, holding a evolver towards some one unpictured ; here in a wide-collared sports shirt lollng negligently upon a bench after a hard ^me of polo or something. Again he ippeared in evening dress, two straightened fingers resting against his eft temple. Underneath this was written n a running, angular, distinguished hand, ' Very truly yours, Clifford Armytage.' This, and prints of it similarly inscribed, vould one day go to unknown admirers \hn besought him for likenesses of limself. But Merton lost no time in scanning these pictorial triumphs. He was turnng the pages of the magazines he had >rought, his first hasty search being for, lew photographs of his heroine. He was mickly rewarded. Silver Screenings irorTered some fresh views of Beulah Baxter, not in dangerous moments, but -evealing certain quieter aspects of her wondrous life. In her kitchen, apron :lad, she stirred something. In her lofty ■nusic room she was seated at her piano. In her charming library she was shown ' Among Her Books." More charmingly she was portrayed with her beautiful arms about the shoulders of her dear old mother. And these accompanied an interview with the actress. The writer, one Esther Schwarz, processed the liveliest trepidation at first .meeting the screen idol, but was swiftly I reassured by the unaffected cordiality of her reception. She found that success had not spoiled Miss Baxter. A sincere artist, she yet absolutely lacked the usual temperament and mannerisms. She seemed more determined than ever to give the public something better and finer. Her splendid dignity, reserve, humanness, high ideals, and patient study of her art had but mellowed, not hardened, a gracious personality. Merton Gill received these assurances without surprise. He knew Beulah Baxter would prove to be these del'ghtful things. He read on for the more exciting bits. " I'm so interested in my work," prettily observed Miss Baxter to the interviewer; "suppose we talk only of that Leave out all the rest — my Beverly Hills home, my cars, my jewels, my Paris gowns, my dogs, my servants, my recreations. It is work alone that counts, don't you think? We must learn that success, all that is beautiful and fine, requires work, infinite work and struggle. The beautiful comes only through suffering and sacrifice. And of course dramatic WOrk broadens a gill's Viewpoint, helps her tO get the real, the WOlth while thing, out oi life, enriching net nature with the emotional experience ot her roles It is through such pressure thai we grow, and we must grow, must we not' One must strive for the ideal, fol the .u t which will be but the pictorial expression ot that, and [or the emotion which must be touched by the illuminating vision pi .1 well-developed imaginatioa if the vital message oi the film is to be fell "Hut of course 1 have my leisure moments from the grinding stress Then 1 turn to my books— I'm wild about history. And how 1 love the great tree out of doors ! 1 should prefer to be on a simple farm, were 1 a boy. The public would not have me a boy, you say" — she shrugged prettily — " oh, of course, my beauty, as they are pleased to call it. After all, why should one not speak of that? Beauty is just a stock in trade, you know. Why not acknowledge it frankly? But do come to my delightful kjtchen, where I spend many a spare moment, and see the lovely custard I have made for dear Mamma's luncheon." » Merton Gill was entranced by this exposition of the quieter side of his idol's life. Of course he had known she could not always be making narrow escapes, and it seemed that she was almost more delightful in this staid domestic life. Here, away from her professional perils, she was, it seemed, " a slim little girl with sad eyes and a wistful mouth." The picture moved him strongly. More than ever he was persuaded that his day would come. Even might come the day wi itteii to Photo Land " i> Beulah Baxter unmarried?" The answei had COme, " I w u e " He bad l.rrn al ' make little ol these replies, rnigmatu. ambiguous, at best Hut hr Irlt that some day he would at least In choSCfl to ait with this slim little girl with th< eyes anil wistlul mouth He, it might be, WOtlld rescue her 1 1 0111 the bran ot the great oucalvptus trie glowing hard by the Piftfa Avenue mansion ot tin scoundrelly guardian This, it he remembered well her message about hard work. HI-, recalled now the wondrous occasion on which he had travelled the nearly hundred miles to Peoria to see his idol in the flesh. Her appearance had been advertised. It was on a Saturday night, but Merton had silenced old Gashwiler with the tale of a dying aunt in the distant city. Even so, the old grouch had been none too considerate. He had seemed to believe that Merton's aunt should have died nearer to Simsbury, or at least have chosen a dull Monday. But Merton had held with dignity to the point ; a dying aunt wasn't to be hustled about as to either time or place. She died when her time came — even on a Saturday night — and where she happened to be, though -it were a hundred miles from some point more convenient to an utter stranger. He had gone and thrillingly had beheld for five minutes his idol in the flesh, the slim little girl of the sorrowful eyes and wistful mouth, as she told the vast audience — it seemed to Merton that she spoke solely to him — On the lot shooting Western stuff" when it would be his lot to lighten the sorrow of those eyes and appease the wistfulness of that tender mouth. He was less sure about this. He had been unable to learn if Beulah Baxter were still unwed. Silver Screenings, in reply to his question, had answered, "Perhaps." Camera, in its answers to correspondents, had said, " Not now." Then he had