We use Optical Character Recognition (OCR) during our scanning and processing workflow to make the content of each page searchable. You can view the automatically generated text below as well as copy and paste individual pieces of text to quote in your own work.
Text recognition is never 100% accurate. Many parts of the scanned page may not be reflected in the OCR text output, including: images, page layout, certain fonts or handwriting.
DECEMBER 1925
The P/cfvrepver
41
Preserxtlo Me
YVONNE DY5APT
Mary herself was in short skirts and a pinafore, with her curls down her back and a Smudge on her nose. Doug. wore his Spanish costume from Don Q., Barrymore was a blackHamlet, John Gilbert more picturesque than I had even remembered in the old sea-faring costume of Monte Cristo.
Irene Rich swept in, among g crowd, with Holbrook Blinn as we saw them in Rosita. Ben Lyon sported the uniform of the Foreign Legion. Menjou and Ronald Colman were in evening kit, sharing some joke or other with a ragged Torrence, and in a corner was Harold Lloyd, looking a little shy and schoolboyish without his spectacles, his face lighting up when Reginald Denny hailed him from across the room and came to sit down beside him. Strongheart and Rin-TinTin, with their wives, looked on solemnly at the feast.
"""There were healths drunk, and stories told, many speeches, lots of jokes. As the meal went on, more and more guests drifted in. The rooms filled. Charlie got out his fiddle. Menjou had a saxophone, and Viola Dana called out that she was an expert with the ukulele. Torrence, who is a trained pianist, volunteered to conduct the band if someone would rig up an impromptu screen at the end of the dining room and give us an original film entertainment.
And it was original, too.
First came a satirical comedy made in Lubitsch's best manner, with Raymond Griffith and Louise Fazenda as an estranged couple, little Mary Philbin as a sweet and simple vamp — for Lubitsch would be the first to recognise that the vamps of real life aren't all black, and lustrous, and languid — and Valentino as the snake in Eden.
Then there was a Russian drama of Sjostrom's, showing the clash of wills between two fiery aristocrats, Mary Alden and Nazimova, with young "William Collier and Norma Shearer as the pawns in the game.
A powerful Grand Guignol picture followed, with Stroheim directing Priscilla Dean.
Chaplin came after, in a tragic sequence.
And then there was a drab little small-town business story of Clarence Brown's, with Mary Pickford as a kind of " Dearest " of the shops, and the one and only Barrymore as a blind man who loves her.
And there was Leatrice Joy as Cinderella.
And Charles Rosher, prince of
camera-men, photographed them all.
After the performance was over — and it took a long, long while and no time at all, bo fascinating was every minute of it— there were games, and dancing, and
more music, and then we all crammed into sleighs and tore off,
with much shouting and jingling of bells, across the Christmas snow until dawn began to break.
It was the happiest Christmas night I have ever spent, such a Christmas present as nobody else could give me — and cost me not a penny.
Little F ar iha and beautiful Nazimova were among
-+ ^ -^>
Mary was there in short skirts and a pinafore, while Rin-TinTin looked solemnly around.