Picture Play Magazine (Sep 1923 - Feb 1924)

32 Motion Pictures of the Mighty and there were at least a dozen of those, all armed with tickets of admission and small pocket motion-picture cameras secreted about them in the hope of "stealing" the picture, would strive to get it off to America by the Saturday boat. To do so, the film would have to leave Rome for Paris on the train de luxe, starting from the Eternal City at two-thirty p. m. on Thursday, the day following the Vatican ceremony. I had provided my Italian camera man with a pocket camera and the necessary ticket of admission to the Belvedere Court, but frankly had no faith in the plan. I knew there would be too many strong-arm men scattered through the crowd, and that the mere sound of the automatic click of the little machine would attract immediate attention and result in confiscation of camera and film. Indeed, this is exactly what did happen to all who tried to "steal" the pope's picture with the pocket motion-picture cameras. Fortunately, I had taken other precautions. Early on the morning of the ceremony four packages were carried into the Vatican by four different entrances. One of them contained a motion-picture camera, and' the other three contained parts of the tripod, several bottles of choice Italian wine and some sandwiches. All were concentrated in a small room on the top floor of the Vaticanoverlooking the Belvedere Court. This room had at some time or other been used by the Vatican coachmen as a place in which to dress. Next came the perplexing problem of smuggling the camera man into the Vatican. I had obtained, after some difficulty, a floor plan of that part of the vast chain of buildings he was supposed to traverse in the roundabout way in which it had been decided he was to enter the Vatican and make his way to the old cabmen's dressing room. This I studied' at length with my French camera man and a certain lay member of the Vatican household who had condescended to aid us in the enterprise. In addition there was a disguise, which necessitated slight changes in the facial characteristics of the Frenchman and a costume in which he looked every bit the part for which we had cast him. The hour agreed upon was long in advance of the time for the ceremony, hence wine and sandwiches. The French camera man left our hotel in company with the lay member of the Vatican household. They carried a suit case and started off in a closed cab. The transformation of the Frenchman was accomplished in the cab within the very shadow of the great dome of St. Peter's, and he soon found himself groping through a narrow passageway into which he hadi been admitted via a side entrance by two sleepy-looking Swiss guards as if he had been a lifelong inhabitant. In a few minutes he had made his way to the coachmen's dressing room. Half an hour later a telephone call from our faithful aid informed me all was well. The Frenchman Before the war Kaiser Wilhelm was always posing for the cameras, but no news reel camera man has yet succeeded in getting a satisfactory picture of the "prisoner of Doom." not only had got into the little room overlooking the Belvedere Court, but also had taken the precaution to bolt the door behind him. "If they find out he's in there, it'll take 'em a week to break down that door, unless they use dynamite," laughed the chap over the phone. Now I was not worried half so much about getting the film out of the Vatican, provided my French camera man turned it, as I was about getting it to New York ahead of any possible opposition that might arise from the Italian company which had obtained the motionpicture rights for the occasion. I knew nobody would be foolish enough to pay the price the Italians were asking for their pictures, but we had already gone so far with our own plans that I determined to take no chances. The Italians had tried to interest me in their film, but like the others, I simply smiled and said no, with thanks. But I realized that some good old-fashioned American ingenuity would have to be employed, if I was to insure the exclusiveness of the pictures I hoped the Frenchman would make. So I called on the head of the Italian company a couple of hours before the ceremony and told him that if he would give me an option for thirtysix hours on his film, I would cable to my New York office and recommend that his proposition be considered. I had him stipulate, in writing that no part of his film would leave Rome during the thirty-six hours we were to await a reply to my cablegram from New York. I took the agreement (which cost me nothing and bound me in no way, in the event of an unfavorable reply to my message) and returned to my hotel. I remained1 in Rome a couple of days later so as not to attract suspicion. The reply to my cablegram to New York came within the thirty-six-hour limit of my option, but, of course, not until after the train de luxe had left Rome with our film aboard. The reply from New York was more than I expected : "Price asked outrageous. You must be as crazy as the Italians." My associates in New York were not aware at the time that I had sent my message to them from the office of the Italian company — a request the Italians had made in giving me the option on their film. Of course, I sent a covering message later, but it did not reach New York until after the reply to my first cablegram had been dispatched to me. The same PVench camera man who made the film of the new pope scored another great picture news success at the time of the collapse of the Greek armies in Asia Minor. Nobody had succeeded in photographing Mustapha Kemal at close range. The world had suddenly become intensely interested in this rising young Napoleon of the Near East, and newspapers and magaContinued on page 90