Picture-Play Magazine (Sep 1926 - Feb 1927)

96 Manhattan Medley Continued from page 55 elation, and as I had outgrown the little-girl stage, she wanted me to get the benefit of association with girls of rny own age, in a wholesome atmosphere. You see," added Madge modestly, "mother is determined to make something out of me, and if she doesn't it won't be her fault." When Maria Gambarelli, the dancer, discovered we were going to talk to Madge Evans between the acts of "Daisy Mayme," she said, "Oh, do give her my love. She was with us at one time at the Capitol Theater. We shared a dressing room. She was one of the nicest, most unspoiled girls I'd ever met, and I'd like to know if she has remained that way. She has such a sensible mother, so I'm sure she has." And she has. Madge is just like any schoolgirl you might meet during the holidays. Merry, unaffected, and full of life, except that she has a little more ambition than most. "I am going to play on the stage for a time. It's such marvelous training, and then I may go back into pictures. Who knows ? "At present, however, I am just betwixt and between. I can't play flapper parts because I've never cut my hair off, and as I'm still only seventeen I'm not fit for anything else. And even now mother won't let me stop studying. Every day, except on matinee afternoons, I go to school and work terribly hard, too. "My schoolmates think I'm in luck, and the most fortunate girl in the world because I can go to the theater every night, and while I love it and wouldn't do anything else, it's a terrible lot of hard work, though try and convince those schoolgirls of that !" "You'll be glad some day," says Mamma Evans sagely. "I'm glad now, mother," says Madge brightly. "Curtain !" calls a voice downstairs, and Madge trips gayly onto the stage. "Seggie" Plays Himself A monocle is about to make its screen debut in an eye other than Von Stroheim's. It is the proud possession of Andres de Segurola — Beau Brummel, opera singer, actor par excellence, impresario, and now, through the acumen of Gloria Swanson, motion-picture player in "Sunya." Segurola has long been a familiar figure in Manhattan. For many years one of the most polished singers at the Metropolitan, his suavity and charm captured the fancy of New York hostesses, and Segurola's impeccable morning coat, the crisp flower in his buttonhole, white spats and silver-headed cane are as widely known in New York drawing-rooms as in the corridors of the opera house. An actor of genuine parts, with a definite sense of characterization, he was famous in opera for the finesse which he brought to his delineations. After many years at the Metropolitan, he resigned to become an impresario on his own behalf, and recently at a dinner party he met Gloria Swanson, who, impressed by his unusual and distinguished appearance, made up her mind he should play ah operatic role in her big film. And when Gloria definitely makes up her mind, we all know she is irresistible. Within a few days "Seggie," as he is popularly known, was partaking of sandwiches at the Cosmopolitan studio in a hastily improvised office-dressing room where he could attend to his manifold duties between scenes. All Seggie needed for his latest role was a stick of grease paint, for he is being transferred to the screen "as is" — that is to say, with monocle, spats, silk hat, and the inevitable fresh flower in his buttonhole. Barthelmess Hopes to Do Better If you have thought the worst about Richard Barthelmess' pictures of late months, you will have the satisfaction of knowing he agrees with you. If you saw "Ranson's Folly," and that dull costume affair which followed it, you'll rejoice that your fulminations are in accord with the opinion of the youthful perpetrator of those celluloid crimes. "I only ask one more chance," said Dick, just before he sailed for Europe. "My new pictures are going to be good. I know they are. I shouldn't be surprised, though, if all my old friends had left me because of the boredom I've been inflicting upon them for many months past." We assured him that the error was not irretrievable, and after a short holiday in Europe he is coming home with renewed energy to tackle a fresh production which he promises will not only be lively but will offer him one of those character portrayals such as he has so magnificently given us in the past. Mary in Quest of a Thrill Mary Alden has been having some sidelights on human nature which her engagement for Ma Potter in the screen version of "The Potters," with W. C. Fields, brought to an untimely end. Tired of being in town with little to do, Miss Alden put an advertisement in a newspaper that ran something like this : "Successful actress, temporarily bored, would be inter ested in receiving communications with regard to work which must be congenial and stimulating." She received fifty answers, all couched in mysterious terms, with no clue to the character of the work. Very much elated, she started out on a peregrination which took her to loft buildings, skyscrapers, peculiar little hole-in-the-wall offices in side streets, where she was invariably greeted by the inquirer who talked generalities for fifteen minutes before divulging the fact that he wanted her to sell life insurance. There was one exception to this rule — a publisher who wished her to take his new book from door to door. He talked to her till she was well-nigh dizzy with fatigue, so she bought a copy of the book and went home, her venture in job hunting having cost her five dollars plus advertising expenses and carfare. Betty Blythe, at whose tea Miss Alden retailed her adventures, said if only she had realized her friend's desire for a job, she would have used her influence to help her get along in the bead business. New Honors for Sessue While Mary Alden is filling her idle hours interviewing prospective employers, and the girls of the film set are making their own dresses lest Satan add to his sorrows and find work for idle hands to do, Sessue Hayakawa, whose brilliant performances on the screen are all too far apart, is collecting favorable notices on his recently published novel, "The Bandit Prince." She Wants to Wear Pretty Clothes "Only a few years ago," says Carol Dempster, "I was one of the world's worst actresses — one of the world's very worst." And now that every one admits that she is delightful, the delicate, fragile Carol confesses to two great desires. One is to wear pretty clothes on the screen, and the other is to direct a picture. Off the screen Carol Dempster is one of the prettiest and best-dressed of the younger set. Her soft pastelshaded costumes, topped by her sparkling eyes and eager young face, are a real treat on a wintry day. "But on the screen," laments Carol, "I seem always to be sporting hand-me-downs and left-overs. I just play what they tell me, and I know I have been too fortunate for words, but sometimes, alas ! my real emotional scenes are played off the screen when I realize again that Little Or pliant Annie has nothing on me Continued on page 106