Picture Play Magazine (Mar-Aug 1926)

8 What the Fans Think HP A Pointed Note from Mexico. i HIS letter coming from Mexico, many are there who will expect a bomb to explode. Well, far be it from me to disappoint them. First, I award a medal of courage to the brave barber who dares give Jackie Coogan a manly hair cut. Another to the brave person who dares tell Mary Pickford to stop making kid pictures. A laurel wreath to the brave director who for once ends up a picture without the final kiss, hug, or walking along a moonlit lane holding hands. And last, another wreath for the brave one who cans all comedians and comedies except those of Lloyd and Chaplin. I said it. Gene Garcia. Apartado 46 Bis, Mexico, D. F. On the Stroke of Midnight. I awoke one night on the stroke of twelve to find myself in a state of terror — such terror as I had never believed possible. I seemed to be walking up a narrow path in an unknown wood, all alone. Strange noises were abroad that night, and at every turn in the path, shadowy figures seemed to slump away. Just when I was about to give up hope of ever getting out of the wood, a strange man appeared in front of me. Of course this added to my terror and I started to flee. I did not get very far, for the strange man caught up with me and, laying a hand on my arm, told me in a weird voice that he would show me how to get out of the wood. I consented, for I believe I was half crazy at the time. For what seemed endless hours, we trudged through the wood, the strange man in the lead. Finally we came out by a big, open space near a deep, dark pool. Suddenly the man seemed to vanish in a mist, and once again I was alone. Standing still for a few moments, I felt that some one was behind my back. Wheeling around, expecting to see the strange man, I was horrified to see a grinning, leering hunchback.. No one will ever realize the agony of those few seconds ! I tried to back away from him, only to find myself surrounded by countless, weird creatures. At the back of them, accompanied by a hooded phantom with the face of Death, stood the strange man with a wild, insane look in his eyes. In his smooth, inhuman voice he told me he was the "great doctor" of the age, and that these creatures were the work of his master hand. Fascinated by those cruel eyes and the wicked, leering mouth, I could only stand still. As the doctor came close to me, I screamed with horror, falling to the ground in a dead faint. predominant, living artist. This, fans, is all I remember of my nightmare of a few nights ago. Through it all, Lon Chaney's face was I am convinced that there is no greater There are those who call him the "great master of make-up." Yes, he is all that and more. Chaney has that uncanny but fascinating light in his eyes that is given to but few in this world. We all know deep down in our hearts that he is a genius. N'est-ce pas? Roma Hollingswortii. Curtiss Field,. Garden City, Long Island, New York. Misrepresenting the West. May I say a few words in protest against the Western pictures depicting the supposedly "wild and woolly" West ? I had always lived in the West until eight years ago, when I moved for a while to Connecticut, and it was after my move there that I realized the unfortunate effect that the false film representation of the West of the country has on the Eastern people, many of whom have never been outside their own States. When I first heard their views of the West, I was utterly amazed. The reason for these misconceptions, I've learned, lies in their believing that the Western life, as shown in the Western "thrillers" which they see on the screen, is based on reality. They believe there are cowboys who shoot when they are angry, that there are saloons where drinking and fighting and shooting predominate, that all the land is either a vast range, or an unsettled desert of sand and sagebrush. Several people back in Connecticut asked me if there were any electric lights, trolley cars, and autos out here, and they hardly believed me when I told them that the West is far ahead of the East in modern improvements of that sort. One of my schoolmates asked me if I rode bucking bronchos, and was quite astonished when I told her I had never even ridden a horse. I've been corresponding with fans in other countries, too, and they also believe the West to be wild and unsettled, all due to the wrong impression these Western films give. It seems to me too bad that this should be so, and I wish that all such misleading films could be banned. Last summer I had the privilege of crossing the continent by auto to return to the Pacific coast, and I assure you I didn't see one cowboy or any shooting whatsoever, and I came right through the "wildest" of the Western States. Elinor Garrison. 112 Union Avenue, W7est, Olympia, Washington.