Picture Play Magazine (Sep 1926 - Feb 1927)

98 The Stroller Continued from page 21 Another touch of humor may be found in the fact that Wallace, one of the screen's best at directing comedy, was formerly an undertaker. What whimsical imp of the heavens is it who bestows on the most beautiful girls the most unromantic of names ? June Marlowe and Claire Windsor are, in my opinion, two of the screen's loveliest actresses. Miss Windsor, as is generally known, started life with the tremendous handicap of "Ola Cronk," while Miss Marlowe was known in St. Paul, her home town, as "Gazella Gotz." That imposing edifice now in course of construction along Movie Star's Row on the Santa Monica Palisades is not a new public bathhouse, as is generally supposed. It is the summer cottage of Marion Davies. It promises to be quite a cozy little spot, being only slightly larger than the Hollywood High School. When completed, I am told it is to contain forty-seven rooms, a pnvate wharf, a swimming pool and similar little features. The Palisades at Santa Monica promise to be the "toniest" drive in America soon, so far as the wealth and prominence of the residents are concerned. Norma Talmadge, Matt Moore, Richard Barthelmess. Louis B. Mayer, Irving Thalberg, Bradley King, Edmund Goulding, and a score of other celebrities own large and gaudy beach houses along the drive, with more being started constantly. A good party crasher — of which there are many in Hollywood — will soon be able to spend the entire summer at the beach, and if thrown out of one movie party will land in the driveway leading to another. One gifted party cruiser estimates he can average four days at each house before being ejected. At this rate he can spend the whole season without repeating hosts, being tossed out of the last week-end party just as it is time to go back to work and his single apartment in Hollywood. Friday night is "lodge night" in Hollywood. All the husbands get out Friday night, ostensibly to attend the fights. Some of them reallv do, too. A great many wives probably believe these boxing bouts last far into the night and it is only a matter of public service for me to tell them that the shows never last beyond eleven o'clock. This situation benefits the newsboys on the Boulevard. At midnight, when the poker games begin to break up, one can see rows of husbands standing on the street waiting for the first edition of the morning paper to come out, so they can go home and tell the wife who won. Churchill Ross is an actor of whom you probably never have heard, but you may in the future. He played in F. B. O.'s xAJberta Vaughn series and has appeared in "The Greater Glory" and several other productions. A long, lean spell between parts occurred some time ago, which was broken' when Wesley Ruggles, who had directed Ross at F. B. O., was signed to make Universal's "Collegian" series. He sent for Ross, talked about signing him for the series, and asked : "How's your wardrobe now?" "Just the same as it was when I worked for you two years ago," Churchill replied. "I haven't thrown away a thing." Bill Seiter, the director, recently permitted me to see his latest Reginald Denny picture, "The Cheerful Fraud," in the projection room. It was a good farce, I thought, and I was enjoying it except for the presence of three large, red-faced gentlemen sitting behind me. Never have I heard such laughter as came from this trio. They soared from high soprano to booming bass, slapped each other on the knee, giggled until they became hysterical, then gasped for breath. After the picture was over, I asked who the merrymakers were, and learned they were gag men trying to get a job on Seiter 's next picture. A merry quip is credited to Lew Cody, who recently married Mabel Normand, much to the surprise of the associates of both, and probably themselves. Lew had scheduled a stag party at his house for the night following the wedding, and inasmuch as the marriage was decided upon and executed rather suddenly, it was agreed that he should go on with his party despite his entrance into matrimony. It was getting rather late the night after the wedding, and the partv was going full blast when Mabel called up her new husband and reproached him for staying up so late. "Aw, let me alone," Lew argued. "This is the first night out I've had since we were married." More confirmation of the aphorism" that Hollywood is just a small town after all may be found in the social activities of the place. Just now there is something of a social feud on, with Mrs. Clarence Brown heading one faction and Mrs. Ernst Lubitsch championing the opposition. A Los Angeles newspaper woman, who evidently has her money on Mrs. Lubitsch, recently wrote an article which made Mrs. Brown and her cohorts quite furious, as, no doubt, was its purpose. The article has occasioned bitterness from the aggrieved faction, ribald laughter from the opposition and amused smiles from noncombatants. The whole affair is strikingly reminiscent of the small town in which I spent the early years of my life, where the wives of the two leading bankers struggled for social supremacy and were constantly at swords' points for the upper hand in the politics of the Methodist church. There are a number of ways of saying that you are looking for a job in Hollywood. "Between pictures," "Now free-lancing," "Available at present," are three standard phrases, all meaning just one thing. "What are you doing now?" asks one ingenue, meeting another on "Poverty Row." "Between pictures." is the answer. "Which ones?" " 'The Birth of a Nation' and 'BenHur.' " George Marion wins the prize for the funniest subtitle in months. Since I heard it I have been told it's an old vaudeville gag. but it is good, nevertheless. It occurs in "We're in the Navy Now." The scene is a street at the start of the war. Raymond Hatton is standing next to a recruiting sergeant. Sergeant : "Why don't you enlist in the navy?" Hatton: "What? With this war going on?" When Tom Reed, the dashing blade who does publicity for Universal in general and Carl Laemmle in particular, returned to his studio after a six-month tour of Europe with his employer, the welcome given him by his press staff was, to say the least, startling. When he arrived for work the first morning, the whole staff were grouped about one desk where a checker game was in progress. On the wall was a large chart indicating the progress of a lengthy checker tournament dating from the day of his departure. Typewriters, files, and even the electric fan were festooned with luxuriant cobwebs. And, unkindest cut of all, on the wall behind his desk was a large "Welcome" sign — only it bore the name of one of Tom's most cherished enemies.