Picture-Play Magazine (Sep 1926 - Feb 1927)

32 Anita Stewart. ANITA STEWART.— When I want to register annoyance on the screen, all I have to do is think of some of the things I hear when I go to see one of my pictures. The remarks go something like this : "Oh, yes ; I know Anita well ! Why, she and I used to go to the same school together in Spodunk," or, "My mother's cousin's aunt is a relative of her uncle's second wife." It is easy to see how such little things can become annoyances. I almost have nightmares when I stop to think of how terrible it would have been if I had attended all the schools that I am accredited with. And when I think of the hordes of people who are supposedly related to me — oh, more and more nightmares ! LOUISE FAZENDA.— Formal dinners and stiff, formal social functions, where every one looks askance at his or her neighbor. If there is anything I dislike, it is trying to be something else than my own natural self. SYD CHAPLIN.— Trying to be funny after working hours. That is, being persuaded into being "the life of a party" — reading jokes and sentimental books. Just because a man makes a living being a comedian is no reason why he should wear a perpetual grin and stop every one he meets, including the gardener, taxi starter, or ticket chopper, to relate humorous incidents or to tell the plot of his next picture. A man can be a comedian and still be human. "CHUCK" REISNER.— Landlords and the signs they put in front of their premises regarding children ! Not long ago, I stopped my car to get out and kick over a sign that bore the words, "No Children or Dogs Allowed." I am the father of Dinky Dean, the boy actor. Dinky is all boy, and has ruined the disposition of more than one landlord. Hence, my aversion to landlords. CLARA BOW.— The woman gossip — the sewing-circle type ! I know no one more malicious than persons who spread misfortune, scandal, and exaggerated half-truths. They are so destructive, such trouble makers — all to no end. And at the same time, such disseminators consider themselves so virtuous, so smug, so righteous ! I like straightforward people. Gossips are my pet aversion. WALLACE BEERY.— Speakers at banquets! It wouldn't be so bad if they were clever speakers. But it seems that, by and large, men who are clever are too clever to take a chance at banquets. Chauncey Depew once told how he had managed to live to a ripe old age despite having been the most sought-after toastmaster in two generations. "The way to survive banquets is not to eat 'em and not to drink 'em," he said. Sydney Chaplin. Clara Boiv. Pet Aversions Yes, they are just like the rest of sions. Read here whether the same Compiled by Hollywood — get out your bludgeons ! Some one is going to get "biffed" by these revelations. Ricardo Cortez probably will start dodging every police officer he sees. Radio announcers will want to throttle Ramon Novarro, Jack Holt, and Raymond Hatton. Neither Wallace Beery, Louise Fazenda, nor Elinor Fair will be invited to social events for a year, while Vera Reynolds never again can boldly face the dentists. For the motion-picture players are taking advantage of this opportunity to reveal their pet aversions. And there are some strange "pets" in the lot. Nearly every one has some choice antipathy. The gamut runs all the way from gum chewers in theaters to peanut crackers in the street cars. There is the fellow who paws you over as he talks confidentially, and the man or woman who tries to impress you with "cleverness." They have been told, To which I should like to add that the best war to avoid after-dinner speakers is not to go to the dinner. CONSTANCE TALMADGE.— My pet aversion is the person who hums tunes — anything from grand opera to the latest "blues." I'd like to boil him in oil. He, or she, is about as popular with me as a golden-rod salesman is with a hay-fever convention. If my friends hear of me committing mayhem, assault, and battery, they will know it's because some hummer has attempted to perpetrate "That's My Baby" and variations without ever drawing a breath. CLAIRE WINDSOR.— The woman who tells you that she is utterly exhausted from trying all day to buy a becoming hat, "and simply cawn't find a thing in this stupid town, my dear !" RAYMOND HATTON.— The radio announcer ! I don't know why they all have such Claire Windsor. soupy voices. I like radio. In fact, I own a good one. I like the programs and the music, but I've really almost abandoned use of mine, because just when I'm in the midst of enjoying a program, the announcer has to put in his oar and turn loose a lot of "blah." I predict that the first station to dispense with the announcer, or else to reduce his conversation to the minimum of absolute necessity, will achieve world-wide acclaim. ROBERT AMES.— The clever individual who drives by a golf course, and honks just as I am at the top of my backswing. Then, a caddy with the sniffles isn't far behind. GEORGE O'BRIEN.— Making personal appearances ! I always feel — and act — -like such a boob, when I have to tell an audience that I love them, knowing all the time that they are Wondering why I don't go back to the George O'Brien. fa'rm where I belong.