Picture Play Magazine (Mar-Aug 1926)

47 in Contrasts minating comparison of players in Hollywood. Manners sort of thing. They call it being a "real person." I can't think of any phrase more descriptive of Marion than that. She is utterly without pose, and seems incapable of assuming one. She is so frank and outspoken about herself and her affairs that she positively takes your breath. She isn't trying to fool you and she wouldn't like for you to try to fool her. If you are any good at all at putting two and two together, you must realize that she is immensely popular. Every one who knows her adores her. Her friends range from the Pasadena Blue Book elite to those who are classified only in the files of the Service Bureau. And these latter aren't just casual acquaintances, either. The other day, I heard Marion arguing with a man who had spent several nights in jail for speeding. He was employed in a minor capacitv in her company, and Marion was all "put out" because he hadn't called on her to help him with his fine. Her zest for life is enormous. Always, she seems ready for new experiences, ranging from an airplane ride to a trick Charleston step — even an interview. It took me only half an hour to make an appointment with Marion. It took two weeks to make an appointment with Norma Talmadge, and then I waited nearly three hours. I think being interviewed bores Norma just a little bit, as fawning people bore her, and public appearances, and spotlights, and crowds. To the casual eye she has become a trifle satiated with the things of fame. She always seems to be detached, far away, impersonal. However, this may be merely on the surface, for every now and then the rumor breaks that Norma is a better Charleston dancer than Connie, and that her favorite dish is the hot dog. But only her intimates know her like that. To the world that is Biltmore at tea time, Mrs. Joseph Schenck is a lady of a limousine, always correctly groomed, always beautiful, always aloof. This impression is not entirely absent from her sets. I have read that electricians and prop boys call her "Norma," but have not heard them ; and I know it to be true that extra people are very much in awe of her. I was scared to death of her when I worked with her Melbourne spurr Norma Talmadge is always reserved, always immaculately groomed, rather aloof save to her Jriends, yet the idol of the film colony. in "The Eternal Flame." I remember complaining to another extra girl that Miss Talmadge hadn't said "Good morning" to me when we passed in a corridor. "Well, you didn't say 'Good morning' to her, either," philosophized my friend. Which was true enough, but I was used to being patronized by lady stars, and I resented Norma's lack of insincerity. However, if that lady noticed any coolness on anyone's part, she didn't let on a bit. She came and went, totally indifferent to the verdict of the extra jury. Every night, when I went home, I used to unseat her from my affections, and every morning I used to reinstate her, because she was so beautiful, albeit indifferent. I shall not be able to tell a hundred cute little anecdotes about Norma's charities and considerations, because they are something she keeps very much to herself, and of all the stars in Hollywood, Norma's private life is the most private. She doesn't make personal appearances with her pictures. She doesn't blow kisses to "her public" at charity bazaars. She doesn't enthuse over tourists who gush up to her in adoration. No getting away from it, her indifference is amazing — until you get used to it. Even then it is Continued on page 105