Picture-Play Magazine (Mar-Aug 1926)

50 When They Were Matinee Idols The Raymond Hatton that you knoiv, above; and at the right, the idolized dramatic juvenile that he was, not so many years ago. her heart responds to his need of her tenderness. Henry Miller, alone, of 3-esterday's heroes, expressed weakness. When, affected by his sense of unworthiness, he dared to break down and cry in a scene, the old guard of the theater threw up their hands in horror. "He is too sentimental !" they exclaimed. "The women will not look up to him." So, he was more successful when he played a more stalwart and self-reliant hero. By stretching the imagination — necessary to form any comparison between two such different eras — one might call William Faversham the Jack Gilbert of his day. The elegant, nattily attired Faversham introduced a new waistcoat, or a new manner of tying the cravat, and the young blades copied him and the women ecstasied, as they cooed allusions to his "fascinating way." When the bold one organized stage-coach parties and rode round the park, a respectful crowd gathered to gaze in awe, and sometimes to whisper covertly, but seldom was any one so forward as to approach him. Now, the girls write our screen idols impassioned fan letters and mob them when they appear in public. Not content with the autograph which rendered the debutante of our mothers' time speechless with gratitude, they demand kisses. The matinee idol of yesterday was an actor : a grandiloquent creature who fought duels, made love in respectful adoration, all for a coy glance from his lady. At best, he held her at arm's length while the curtain fell. His noble renunciation, the motif of so many plays of old, and always such a thrill to the audience, would to-day be considered a comedy. These scenes flashed mentally before me, unreeled over the shoulder of memory, as I talked with several present-day character actors about their glamorous youth as matinee idols. Twentyfive years old, frayed and worn and yellow, the little sheet of note paper there in Robert Edeson's scrapbook still bravely bore witness to an admiration which, one inferred, such a conservative, ladylike note wouldn't dare express very strongly. "Some difference from the fan letters the flames get to-day, eh?" Bob chuckled, smiling over the dignity of the missive which attested to his yesterday's fame as a heartbreaker. "Mash notes were usually written by young ladies who got a tender though secret crush on a stage actor. If he were in stock, they would attend his matinees for weeks. "You could always tell a 'faithful:' she invariably sat in the same orchestra seat, her rapt face uplifted to the footlights, her little corsage of violets rising and falling as she breathed rapidly during the climax. "Eventually, she would become bold enough to write a timorous note, expressing admiration for the actor's work. He didn't have the expense of sending out photos. They were taken by Ritzman and sold. The young lady would purchase a picture, send it to the actor with a twenty-five-cent donation to the Actors' Fund, and ask that he autograph the likeness and return it. "Now, the girl fans express the wildest love for the screen actor who takes the public by storm, or at least have no hesitancy in asking him most intimate questions. The stage actor of yesterday lived in a world of illusion on the other side of a wall, but the movies have torn down that wall and made of the actor a familiar acquaintance.