We use Optical Character Recognition (OCR) during our scanning and processing workflow to make the content of each page searchable. You can view the automatically generated text below as well as copy and paste individual pieces of text to quote in your own work.
Text recognition is never 100% accurate. Many parts of the scanned page may not be reflected in the OCR text output, including: images, page layout, certain fonts or handwriting.
Chorus girls are always dropping in at Burke's studio, before or
after a matinee.
A Bit of Real Bohemia
It is located in the studio of Richard Burke, who takes . pictures of the stars for this and other magazines.
By Tom Weatherly
BURIED in the heart of New York's amusement center is a small studio, frequented by the movie stars, which the average fan would find more interesting than a studio where motion pictures are made. For, unlike most studios of the kind, it lacks all pretense of an atmosphere of business; in place of that it has the real air of the Bohemia that O. Henry knew and wrote about.
For thither, to the tall, noncommittal picture maker, named Richard Burke, in his shabby little shop tucked away on the roof of a building, just a step from the roar of Longacre Square, come all Broadway. Chorus girls — to rest, and to powder their noses before starting out afresh on the eternal hunt for jobs. Stars — for a little chat before going on to rehearsal. Youngsters, with their feet on the first rungs of the ladder — to see if there is anv news as to who is casting that day. Press agents — to swap yarns
about the days when
And so it goes — a steady stream of those who inhabit the tinsel world. High and low, star and extra girl, they all are welcome, all perfectly at home. So much so, in fact, that one wonders when their host
ever gets time for work. But he Dorothy Gish called to does, as the pages of Picture have some photographs Play and the other monthlies so a few weeks ago.
eloquently testify, with their striking studies of stage and screen favorites, under many of which this legend runs, "Photograph by Richard Burke."
But why has this man, who is not really of the theater, become host and father confessor to the children of Broadway? Why has this musty little studio, bare and uncomfortable, become the rendezvous for all that glittering array of beauty and talent? Surely there are other studios, far more luxurious, whose owners would welcome the opportunity of presiding over this colorful and everinteresting company — places where refreshments and cigarettes might even be forthcoming gratis if such an amazing coterie could be gathered there dally. But if there are, Broadway never heard of them. Burke reigns supreme. Even his only refreshment is and the cigarettes you are the ones you bring Continued on page 104