Picturegoer (1921)

16 THE PI CTU REGOE-R JANUARY 1921 i "TOPICAI.S Jby WAW1LLIAMSOK 01 the men who shoot the scenes Jor the Motion Picture Screens, There's a jellow whom I never shall forget ; Though he's dead and far away, I still think of him to-day As the slickest, quickest man I ever met. News in Pictures was his line, and he worked it mighty fine. He could fairly lick creation at the game. No one ever saw a better — just a bred-andborn news-getter, And, Btll-Mustn't-Miss-a-Murder was his name ! He was christened simply William, and he let it pass until People found it didn't suit him, so they cut it down to Bill ; And as Bill he came among us when he joined our little band As a free-lance with the cam'ra in the world called Movieland. There was bags of competition, but the novice stood his ground, We were quite prepared to teach him, but he took and showed us round ; It didn't take us long to see his epochmaking views, He was keener than a bloodhound, he'd a perfect nose for news. Crime ! He wallowed in the taking of the city's seamy side, Most particularly murders, which he hunted far and wide ; * When we chaffed him for his ardour he was not a bit ashamed — " Oh, I mustn't miss a MURDER ! " — that's the way we got him named. But it wasn't only murders ; he could leave us all behind In the race for social pictures of the smart and snappy kind ; Though he never shot a subject that was simply meant to fill, If it hadn't ." picturevalue," then it wouldn't do for Bill. And his patience was terrific when he wanted certain shots, You would sec him waiting, waiting in the most unlikely spots. I recall that once in Whitehall, how for hours he sat and sat For a snap of Winston Churchill in his latest Trilby hat. He paraded Piccadilly day by day, his mind intent On securing juicy pictures of a traffic accident ; When a famous Peer lay dying, Bill for weeks stood watchful by, And he cursed him like a trooper, 'cause his Lordship didn't die. o V O o O c u 11 I remember one December (no disloyalty I sing), There occurred a slip for which Bill never quite forgave the King. " His Majesty," said Bill, " is not the sport that I supposed : " He drove out in his car to-day with all the windows closed ! " Once, when labour strife was brewing, Bill returned from Limehouse way, Bathed in blood and dark of optic, but immeasurably gay. And he gasped, as on the bench his battered outfit he displayed, " Here's a little street-fight picture that's the finest ever made ! " When we brought him round with brandy he'd a pretty tale to tell, " It was rather hard to wangle, but I worked it very well. " There were half-a-dozen navvies who had nearly come to blows, " But they would not fight each other, so I punched one on the nose ! " Poor old Bill, his days were numbered. He had run his final reel, And he died at Oxford Circus, died a martyr to his zeal. There occurred a street collision, and our Bill was on the scene ; He was working on a close-up, when a taxi came between. When I reached his side he muttered, as I raised him from the ground, " Don't mind me — pick up the cam'ra ; see you keep it safe and sound. " What a scoop 1 Real luck I call it — it's the best I ever had 1 " Though, perhaps, because I hurried, the photography is bad. " But the film's a real news-picture. Do your best to get it through, " If the quality is patchy, you had better . . . stain . . . it . . . blue That was all, his life's last message. He was getting short of breath. But he died quite disappointed when I wouldn't film his death I Of the men who shoot the scenes for the Motion Picture Screens, That are shown you in the Topical Gazette, I award the palm to Bill, for his memory haunts me still As the brightest, whitest man I ever met. When, for better or for worse, Bill was loaded on a hearse. You can bet your Sunday boots his ghost was there. There, unseen by all the crowd, with a cam'ra in his shroud, Shooting pictures of his fun'ral from the air .' *S \