Picture Play Magazine (Mar-Aug 1926)

46 BARBARA LA M ARR is dead ! The "too-beautiful girl" passed away in the shadows of the eternal hills at Altadena, California, early in February, ending a career as tragic and colorful as the most vivid motion-picture script. Her last impressions of the world were received in her bedroom amid orchids and roses, with her father and mother and physicians by her side. But though her breath lingered in her body for nearly a day after she began to sink, she was not conscious of her surroundings. At four o'clock in the afternoon, the struggle ended. The closing days of her life were as fanciful, almost, as the starlit way along which she had traveled. Two days before her death, she said she was feeling better. Her father, W. W. Watson, placed her in a wheel chair and took her out upon the lawn, where she could gaze upon her garden of flowers. The glorious California sunshine was flooding the land, and just a few miles away, the surf was breaking upon the shores of the ocean. To the east, majestically towered the silent mountains, their peaks tipped with snow. In all directions were orange groves and roses. And quiet. Barbara was quiet that day, gazing at the butterflies flitting among the blossoms. The little bright-winged insects seemed strangely to attract her. Their multicolored wings were brilliant as they flew from flower to flower, in their abandon. Her father, too, was absorbed in watching them. "They're pretty !" the sick girl faintly said. The Death of Barbara The dramatic circumstances attending the passing beautiful film actress, whose life had been a most By Charles "Yes," her companion replied, "and happy." Miss La Marr did not answer directly. She seemed to be wondering. The world had called her a butterfly — of Broadway. She, too, had been acclaimed beautiful, before her "wings" had begun to droop from illness. And she seemed to question whether or not these butterflies, apparently so carefree and untouched by the world, could be happy in their insect lives. "Are they happy, daddy?" she asked musingly. Again she lapsed into silence. The years seemed to unfold the scroll of her life, and she closed her eyes — to think. "In experience," she suddenly said, "I've lived the average life, with all its joys and jolts." She paused and looked into the distance — out toward the sea. A limousine passed, its motor purring softly, and disappeared. "Principally jolts!" she concluded. Her father tucked the covering more closely about her and, after a while, took her into the house. A huge basket of flowers had just arrived from Bert Lytell and his wife, Claire Windsor, together with a pretty little note of encouragement. Miss La Marr dictated a message to them which said : Am very grateful for your sweet note of sympathy and for the gorgeous roses. Will be delighted soon to have you call. Am gaining every day, but am advised to be quiet for a while. May you always be happy. Love from Barbara. She seemed tired, very tired, and slept heavily. Next day, however, she suffered a relapse, and physicians were hastily summoned. She lapsed into unconsciousness, her breathing became labored, and before the end of another day, it ceased. About no other motion-picture actress, probably, have so many strange and unfounded stories been told. Writers have said she was born in Richmond, Virginia, of unknown parentage, that she was a waif of the streets, that she never knew her father or mother, and that she never went to school and was just "bad." But Mr. Watson, her parent, says differently. Barbara was born in North Yakima, Washington, he says, on July 28, 1896, and attended the public schools there. At the age of seven, she appeared on the stage one amateurs' night and recited a poem, "Nobody's Child." Perhaps that was where the idea of her being a waif originated. She wore ragged clothes, Mr. Watson says. Her stockings had holes at the knees, but her little speech was received with such wild enthusiasm that the manager of the Allen Stock Company sent for her and gave her child's pa-rts in several plays. At the age of eight, she went to Spokane with the Jessie Shirley Company. Then Mr. Watson, who was a newspaper man, moved to Fresno, California, to become editor of an agricultural trade paper, and there he later conducted a printing establishment of his own. For two years, Barbara went to school in Fresno, and when her father and mother moved to the Imperial Valley in Southern California, where Mr. Watson did field work for the Los Angeles Times, she went along. But the heat in that valley bothered her, and presently she was back in Los Angeles, refusing to return home. "It's too hot down there !" she protested. "I don't like it." Barbara La Marr in a scene from her last picture, "The Girl from Montmartre" during the filming of which she collapsed.