Picture Play Magazine (Sep 1921 - Feb 1922)

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Photoerph by Victor Georg A House on Dream Street That's what Ralph Graves is looking forward to. By Emma-Lindsay Squier I TT wasn't in a particularly propitious state of mind I that I waited for Ralph Graves. In the first place, I it was one of those muggy days in August when I the heat seemed to have been pressed down on the earth with a screw. The studio of Victor Georg, the phoj tographer, where I was to put Ralph through his con\ versational paces, was far from the elevated — my means of conveyance — and two or three flights up in an old ■ studio building. It was so hot that I was only vaguely ■ interested in the portraits of celebrities that Mr. Georg was showing me as an artistic substitute for the family album, and was, on the whole, in no mood for any I interview, except perhaps one with an ice-cream soda. Then Ralph came breezing in just like the hero in a play, with all the rest of characters on the stage waiting for him, and the audience making a polite patter of applause. He gave you the feeling that something really nice had happened. His eyes were so earnest and his smile was so wide and so infectious. He was hot, too, but it hadn't ruined his disposition. He was J sunlDurned, and he scratched his arms with gusto. Also ' with apologies. ] "Oh, gee, I'm sorry to be late !" was his greeting, said [ so sincerely that I actually believed him. "You know, I v/as out yachting this morning with some friends, and . I thought I'd get back in plenty of time. We just this minute got back to the yacht club, and I jumped a taxi and beat it up here " V He scratched and grinned at me. Perhaps it was I the healthy brownness of his face that made his teeth seem so white. But I thought it was one of the nicest smiles I had ever seen. A big chap is Ralph — as you know from seeing him on the screen — with the sort of hair that sentimental' girls would like to get their hands into, serious gray eyes with ultra-long lashes, and a nose that almost de-': cided to turn up into a snub before it stopped abruptly. He is a curious combination of grown man and small boy, so serious at times that you wonder why on earth he wasn't a preacher or a foreign missionary. Then in an instant so light-hearted and juvenile that you suspect him of being able to stride a hobby horse with great glee or take a watch apart to see the wheels go 'round. He had a handkerchief that he was twisting into curious shapes. He made it into a mouse, a doll,' a cradle. "Victor," he was saying delightedly, "you ought to see my new polo pony. Oh, boy ! A pedigree that would put your eye out — and can that baby play the game ? Oh, gee ! Say, Victor, don't take any pictures of me until I get my polo outfit, will you? It's a peach " He described it in detail. If I had seen him only in that moment I should have described him as a nice boy, pleasantly superficial, without any serious purpose in life — — ■ But somehow we got to talking of "Dream Street," Ralph's biggest success in the picture game. And sud-' denly he was an enthusiast — I imagine he never regards Continued on page 108