Picture-Play Magazine (Sep 1921 - Feb 1922)

32 A Girl's Adventures in Movieland always in California," I told her. "I thought you never spent any length of time here at all." "Oh, yes, I spend four months out of every year in the East. The other eight months I work in California," she enlightened me. "Bayshore is my home, you see. I moved here when I was fourteen. I've just recently sold my house in Bayshore and rented one nearer Islip." "And are there many theatrical people living around here?" I asked, remembering about the colonies I had heard of — of how they visited each other back and forth — and hoping that maybe Norma Talmadge and Pearl White might drop in on Anita while I was there. ''Well, it's more at Bayside and Great Neck that they live in such numbers. Most of the players that live there commute into the city daily. Quite a few do from here, too, but not quite so much." We hadn't gone far when we came in sight of the big bay. Several houses, all built alike of stone and completely covered with some kind of vine with very large leaves, surrounded a little inlet of water that extended inland from the bay. The taxi turned in the driveway of one of these houses — the one nearest the bay. A fresh, cool breeze was blowing in from the water, and the place seemed so quiet and restful — it was like a heaven after the two long, stuffy train rides. It was an ideal place for a player during vacation, I thought — so far removed from the movies or a studio. I should think it would take any one's mind completely off from work. Even I, for the first time, forgot to think about the movies — in those surroundings — unless I looked at Anita. Her bulldog, Casey, met t:s at the door, and after Miss Stewart made him shake hands and go through all his tricks for me we went into the pleasant, summery living room and removed our wraps. A colored butler in a white coat came in with two glasses of rich milk for us. "I'm trying to get fat," she confided, so I have to drink milk all the time. I don't like it a bit. I gave up all other exercises because I like swimming so much that I want to swim, rather than do anvthing else. I only weigh a hundred and fifteen pounds now." Which I didn't consider so bad, considering she is quite small. That seems to be one of the difficulties of being in the movies — almost every actress I meet is either trying to stay thin or trying to get fat. Just think how annoying that must be, always having to worry about how much you weigh for fear it will affect your work. We sat down on a settee by the big window and chatted. I studied her closely, or sized her up rather, as a movie fan is likely to do on seeing a favorite player in real life. You unconsciously hunt for the dift'erence between the red and real person, in what ways they differ from the star that the vast army of fans are familiar with. The first thing that struck me was the difference in Anita Stewart's coloring. While most of us, I am sure, have always thought she was a pronounced brunette, she really is quite light. She has a way of looking squarely and frankly right at you, and I noticed what a light brown her eyes were. I could go into raptures about her hair — it is such a lovely, glossy, burnished brown with red lights in it — almost auburn in fact. And her teeth are as white and glisteny as can be. She is nothing if not colorful. Whenever I come to a movie star's looks I feel like raving — one seems prettier than the other. Her voice is a regular girl's voice — not affected in the least. She says she believes in being natural because one is liked better. "You'll hear some players say 'bawth' and 'cawn't' one moment, and often they'll forget and revert back to 'bath' and 'can't,' " she told me. "Pretense is always so easily detected, anyway." Don't you agree with Miss Stewart? I do. I've always felt it right away if any player would try to impress me. When I mentioned and exclaimed about finding her so fair, she said her sister, Lucille Lee Stewart, is a real blonde, and so is her brother, who is much younger than he says he is. "Only my mother has the same color hair as myself. I just missed being a blonde. Gloria Swanson, you know, has a sort of dark-red hair that shows black on the screen, too." We talked about the different magazines, and she confessed she adores them, and proves she is like us fans in one way. for she admitted, "I go to the news stand and buy every magazine I see that has anything in it about the movies. \iy mother is so cute — if she looks through a magazine and doesn't find anything about me, she'll say, 'Oh, there's nothing in that magazine !' But as for me, I like to read about the others." I could tell Anita Stewart is very sensitive because I noticed the hurt tone in her voice when she told me about some magazine that passed an unkind remark about her. When I inquired if the stars minded what the critics say about them she admitted that it hurts their feelings terribly. "But, after all, that is only the opinion of one person ; others may think differently. Now you and I may see a picture, and you may honestly think to yourself that it was the worst picture you ever saw, while I, on the other hand, may be perfectly truthful about it if I said it was the best I ever saw. That is because our opinions differ, but my verdict shouldn't be considered any more than yours. Really, the only thing that counts is the box office." There was a large, colored picture of Anita on the table, so I couldn't resist asking her for one of herself. She went over to the table, and took from the drawer a great stack of very large photographs and a pile of smaller "stills," and brought them over to where I was sitting. We passed a good half hour looking over them, which I more than enjoyed — ^tliey were all so pretty and interesting. The stills were taken by her own husband, Rudolph Cameron, while out on location. And some of the larger pictures were of her own home in California. It is about the most gorgeous-looking house I ever saw. From the pictures it looked like a palace, just fit for a movie queen — the kind of house you would expect them to live in. It seemed to be built of some sort of white stone, with the front porch almost the entire length of the house, and had tall white pillars in front. In the rear of the house are high HEROES OR MANIKINS?— GLAMOUR OR DISILLUSION= MENT?— What has Ethel Sands— the typi= cal fan who is writing these ad= ventures — found? She has been sincere with you from the first, she's told you just what she saw and how it impressed her — but now, after all her varied experi= ences, can she look back and say that she was just swept off her feet momentarily? Or, if she were to meet all these people again, would she see some of them in a different light? She has learned a great deal about motion pictures and motion= picture people during these "Ad= ventures" — things that a trained reporter might have missed. For Ethel Sands was thoroughly new to the studios; she had merely good observation and the keen in= terest of a devoted enthusiast over motion pictures. Next month she is going to tell you many surprising and amusing things about motion pictures and motion=Dicture people that escaped her in the first fervor of her new impressions. Her views are daring — unusual — amusing. You won't want to miss them.