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A Player Who is Contented
Chester Conklin, after a long, hard training, has won recognition as a comedian of distinction, has a hobby that satisfies him, and is at peace with the world.
By Charles Carter
THE comedians have to be taken seriously nowadays.
By that I mean that, when the former roughand-tumble fellows who used to appear in the weekly output of the old Keystone and Sennett studios, are contributing such splendid bits of work as they are now, we begin to wonder what they are really like personally.
Take Chester Conklin, for example. Beginning with his finely drawn role in "Greed," he has given a series of characterizations in feature productions that command attention and respect.
I met him recently in New York, where he was working in "The Wilderness Woman." We were to have met at the Hotel Astor, but he begged to have the meeting place changed to the Algonquin. The reason, I learned, was that he was sensitive about his appearance. His role demanded a full beard, and at that time it had only a four-day start.
"I don't mind coming here so much," he observed, after finding the most secluded corner available in the Algonquin dining room. "Folks here understand. But in other places, I get stared at, and it's not comfortable."
And that from one of the oldest troupers in the business !
"I don't care much about the limelight, anyway," he went on. "I'm pretty much of a stay-at-home person. Too much so, perhaps. You see, I was a vaudeville
trouper for years before settling down in Hollywood, and I appreciate a home — and my wife's cooking. I miss that in New York."
I asked him about his change from slapstick to high, or at least higher, comedy.
"It was an easy change," he admitted. "The slapstick training was the best in the world. The proof is that all of our old crowd have made so good in the new kind of work. The producers realized that we had the technique. And I give Cecil De Mille credit for having started the movement when he took Gloria Swanson and Bebe Daniels out of the two-reelers and made them legitimate stars.
"People think that the old slapstick was just rough and tumble. It wasn't. Everything was thought out and timed. Why, we used to count through every important bit of business like a music pupil beating time. P'or instance" — he went through a bit of pantomime to illustrate — "look up, one, two, three — turn right, one, two, three — down, one, two, three — back, one, two, three. That way, not a move was missed. And another trick we practiced until it became automatic. We always acted as though we were in a theater with a single one-eyed man in the audience, and we played to get his attention. You're going to be noticed, if you do that."
Like his old associate, Ford Sterling, Conklin has beContinued on page 112