Picture Play Magazine (Jul - Dec 1929)

104 Continued from page 74 Renee, from her place in the ring, saw this and, with a scream of horror and fury, was at the Turk's side in a moment. Snatching his whip with the wicked steel thong on the end of it, and wielding it with both muscular, little arms, she lashed out at her master in a frenzy. Beating him until he cowered in a corner, and then jumping on him with both feet, she was finally dragged away, a small virago, sobbing, between epithets, for Iter poor, mutilated horse. Back in her father's circus, the outbreak of war did considerable damage to their business. In order to keep the little troupe in food, Renee and her sister got work in a factory, wrapping bouillon cubes. Their earnings were about fifteen cents a day, with a penny extra for every additional thousand cubes they wrapped. Renee, unaccustomed to the close atmosphere, had fainting spells, and her sister worked with frantic speed to cover Renee's lapses. When the circus was playing a not very profitable engagement in Belgium, on the outskirts of Brussels, the German invasion came. Saving nothing but the clothes they wore, the family joined the other refugees in flight to a boat for England. On board there was a search for a woman spy. Renee was stripped and the skin taken off her back with alcohol, in the belief that there was a message on it in invisible ink. The spy was found elsewhere, and the bewildered Renee, her back stinging and raw, was allowed to proceed to England. In London the first stirrings of conscious ambition began to trouble her. She slept in a real bed — and suddenly realized that the narrow bunks in caravans' had been uncomfortable. She had glimpses of the London theaters, and realized that the carefree, wandering existence of her father's circus was not the only possibility life offered. Renee — As She Is Jobs as a dancer in London shows — an offer from ..Australia — running away from London — packed aboard a transport bound for Halifax — landing in New York because of the famous Halifax disaster — detained in the immigration offices — shipped to Canada under guard — sharing a seat in a tourist train with a muttering Chinaman — arriving in Vancouver ten days before the Australian boat was to sail, with just enough money to buy one meal a day — sleeping in the draughty station at night. Only fifteen years of age, yet she wasn't frightened and, being magnificently healthy, survived without so much as a cold, although it was the middle of a bitter winter. After a few months in Sydney, she returned to New York and worked there for some time, dancing and singing. Spotted by Louis B. Mayer, she was signed for pictures and has been a Hollywood luminary ever since. Mclisandc, in "The Big Parade," is still the finest work she has done. Some day some wise person may be inspired to cast her in John Masefield's "Tragedy of Nan," and then her Mclisandc would be topped. But things will not occur through any coercion on Renee's part. She has not the gift of salesmanship. Around the studio she is "The Frog," adored by the help, depended upon by the officials to jump in anywhere and save a picture from failure. She lives in a shabby, rambling bungalow on an unfrequented country road near the sea, having moved there from a stucco mansion which she bought impulsively and loathed for its blatant newness. She loves old houses, old furniture. Her present home is small and sunny, unpretentiously comfortable, the house surrounded by an acre of ground on which grow avocados, berries, grapes, fruit trees, vegetables, flowers — all planted in charming confusion. Her menage is polyglot, a German cook, Indian maid, Polish chauffeur, Chinese chow dogs, Persian cats. An aviary, forever being populated anew by prolific canaries, is one of her dearest possessions. A canny Irish lawyer looks after her finances and allows her only a moderate income, knowing her airy prodigality with money. Like most families who have faced adversity together, the Adorees are passionately devoted. On Renee's dressing table is a picture of her mother — a beautiful, delicately featured woman. Renee writes to her regularly, and has always provided for her comfort. No laughter, when she is in high spirits, is more infectious than Renee's. She is ingratiating, gamin. Her humor is broad and she loves practical jokes. She seldom smiles, without laughing outright. A group calling themselves, for no special reason, the "unholy four," is composed of Renee, Ramon Novarro, Ronald Colman, and Charles Lane. Their diabolic function is to attend neighborhood movies together, explore little-known parts of Los Angeles, or just to sit and talk. With these cohorts, Renee, whose physical magnetism rates high, has the status of a boy, a good, little sport, a regular. Although unhappiness has dogged her personal life, it has left no taint of bitterness — only a pervading wistfulness of which she is unconscious. Elemental in the honesty of her emotions, in her enthusiasm for life and her eager love of people, loyal and kind, devoid of malice, there is something gallant about her. And something a trifle pathetic, because of her consequent defenseless exposure to the political intrigue of Hollywood. She ought to be a star, but it is doubtful if she ever will be. Skilled purveyors of personality get electric lights before Renee, who has plenty, hut doesn't throw it around. Continued from page 92 rounding her passing were curious, according to all reports. She was at a picture theater, viewing "Bulldog Drummond," her son's first talkie. She had not heard his voice for eight years, and the excitement of seeing him and actually listening to him speak proved too much for her, as she was very advanced in years. She collapsed during the showing and died a few days afterward, but word came that she was happy during her last days, because the voice of her son had been audible to her once aeain. Hollywood Higk Ligkts Blond Stars Reglimpsed. Miss Dupont and Lillian Rich ! Two players popular several years ago reappeared on Hollywood's horizon recently. Miss Dupont is remembered as the heroine of Erich von Stroheim's "Foolish Wives," and Miss Rich as a Cecil DeMille star. Miss Dupont, since her marriage, has definitely retired from the screen. She came to the Coast only on a visit. Miss Rich returned with the expressed hope of returning to pictures in California. She has been in Eng land for the past few years, working in the studios there. Rogers as Yankee. Will Rogers is very desirous of remaking "A Connecticut Yankee In King Arthur's Court," a big hit of eight or nine years ago. Rogers would play the Yankee. Several long debates have been held on the subject at the Fox studio, and it looks as if the Rogers gift of speechmaking were winning against arguments against the idea. Opposition at first was pronounced, because it was felt