Picture Play Magazine (Mar-Aug 1926)

43 The Pauline Frederick Legend Absent from the screen these many months, credited with but a few fine performances and one magnificent one, Pauline Frederick is yet looked on as potentially our greatest star. By Helen Klumph EVERY time that a director or scenario writer starts to tell me about the "big, really worth-while" picture that he is going to make some day, I jot a name down on a piece of paper and make a bet with myself. When he gets to the point in his story where he says, "And, of course, there is only one person big enough to play it," I triumphantly hand him the piece of paper, on which is written "Pauline Frederick," just as he sa)'s the name. He accuses me of being a mind reader ; he marvels at my discrimination — have I not just coincided with, an opinion of his own? He makes every observation but the obvious one, and that is that this is an old, old story that I have heard many times before. This whole-souled worship of Miss Frederick may puzzle you. It did me, at first. For, I was judging her by ordinary, commercial standards. Because she has no million-dollar contract with a recognized producing concern, because she has been absent from our screens these many months, and because she has just made a picture for a little company you have probably never heard of, the industry's verdict on her — were she any one but Pauline Frederick — would be, "Dead and dug up." But no such disrespect is ever shown her. Pauline Frederick is a dominating figure, one whose flashes of brilliance have given hint of great reserve powers. Either that, or every one who knows her is hypnotized. I belong to the crowded ranks of those who look on her performance, years ago, in "Madame X," as an unparalleled achievement. But after I met her, I was willing to admit that, even if she had never done anything of consequence on the screen or stage, her personal magnetism would sway me to think she could. "Smouldering Fires," the title of the last film in which she appeared, is perhaps the most perfect word picture of the power she suggests that could be contrived. On meeting her, I found her to be a pattern of unfailing charm — a glowing, joyous, dominating personality. That meeting was something of an achievement. Miss Frederick's activities are hampered by no conventional notions of what is good business. Therefore, she airily waves all interviewers aside. I had to enlist the cooperation of Charles Whittaker — an old friend, who wrote the scenario for her last picture — and get him to take me to see her. She had just finished making "The Nest" — a "quicky," as any production rushed through in three weeks is called. She had allowed herself a whole day for shopping, being photographed, arranging transportation, and talking business to the ever-increasing ranks of film producers who wanted to sign her up before she left for Hollywood. I might have been brushed aside without feeling offense, but since I was sponsored by a friend, she graciously bade me become a part of the chaos of that last day. "Oh, I am sorrv to keep you waiting," a vibrant voice rang out, as she fairly burst into the hotel room where her mother, Mr. Whittaker, and I, were talking. I was a little startled to see a gloriously alive and dashing person who looked all of ten years younger than the Pauline Frederick I had seen in Hollywood almost two years ago. "How does she do it ?" I kept asking myself. It wasn't long before I knew the answer. Enthusiasm — interest in big things and little things — a moment's shrewd judgment for her own concerns, and then complete abandonment to her interest in what is going on. There is a tremulous, joyous note in her voice, as though she had just been completely overwhelmed by the beauty of something. There is, too, a breath-taking sweep about the range of subjects she covers in casual remarks. She has poise without dignity — the rather startling combination of a grand manner and the disposition of an impetuous, impulsive child who knows she will be forgiven. "My car is wandering around New York — no telling where," she announced breathlessly, as she sat down and took a common variety of cigarette out of a most-uncommon gold case. "The man from the company was down getting my tickets West for me. He was supposed to stop by for me, but I didn't see him and just couldn't waste any of to-day waiting, so I jumped in a taxi and came home." "But he may wait for hours," Mrs. Frederick suggested. No one cared. That conversational way station had long since been passed. "Did you ever read of anything more incredibly dramatic than that rescue at sea by the crew of the Roosevelt ?" A sad note crept into her voice, but was instantly dispelled by one of exultation. "Oh, I am so excited! I have just come from the most marvelous photographer. I know he's marvelous, because he made me feel so good while he was taking my pictures. They ought to be splendid. Oh, let's run downand have some lunch before the phone rings again. It rings simply all tlie time. I don't know how I am supposed ever to do anything but answer it." We progressed to the hotel dining room. "I'll get back home in time to see Will Rogers," she gloated, as we sat down at the table. "Isn't he gorgeous, making Los Angeles a one-night stand? Just what he always thought of it. But I've missed the horse show. And we do have an awfully nice horse show." She skipped airily from books to* shows to night clubs, the momentum of her speech increasing with her enthusiasm. "And right over there" — she indicated a near-by table — "I saw the most beautiful young creature you ever saw. She was simply heavenly. And who do you suppose it was? Norma Shearer." Our party began to grow. An agent, laden with telegrams offering engagements. A producer's representative, come to plead his cause in person. He started to urge her to make a two-reel comedy, but found himself discussing polo, Will Rogers' book, and mutual friends who had been thrown while riding horseback. Three of us made an effort to pin her down to talking about herself , her plans, her hopes ; but most of the time, she won and talked about everything else. "Just now, I am going out to Universal to make a picture called 'Devil's Island' — maybe three more. These people who made 'The Nest' want me to come back and make more here. Maybe England — they've a play and some pictures they want me to do over there. Yes, I'd go back to the stage if the play seemed big. I'd do anything," she added, with a dazzling smile, "that seemed interesting." [Continued on page 94]