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to the Holy Land
land and finds herself in ancient Palestine. But to be only movie actors from Hollywood engaged mammoth production based on the life of Christ.
Kingsley
the next tiny bay, where with the aid of a plank we stepped ashore.
It was mid-afternoon, and some one in a green bathing suit hailed us from the clear green water, which, with the colorful stones on the bottom, gave one a feeling of having discovered a place of primitive freshness.
The bather turned out to be Elise Bartlett, Joseph Schildkraut's wife, who was visiting him over there in the Holy Land, where he was playing the role of Judas. They had been separated, but were now reconciled.
"Surely a peaceful place for a reconciliation," remarked my friend.
'"This." explained our guide, with a proud wave of the hand, "is the Sea of Gali. lee !"
He said that a minister who had been there a few days before and had been shown pictures of this bit of
De Mille's conception o/Judas is a handsome young man — played by Joseph Schildkraut. ttSZZL*
A view of the camp on Catalina Island where the company lived during the filming of the picture. The "Holy Land" and the "Sea of Galilee" are on the other side of the hill.
bay and also some photographs of the real Sea of Galilee, had not been able to tell which was which, though he had traveled extensively in Palestine and visited the Sea of Galilee many times.
I predict right now that California will be used for a great many more Bible pictures, for. in climate, flora and geography, it seems that it amazingly resembles the
Holy Land.
The red soil of a path winding picturesquely up a slope lay before us. leading, we were told, straight into the Holy Land. L"p we climbed. There was quiet all about, with not a sign of an automobile nor of a telephone wire. Suddenlv we came upon a group of water buffalo, standing like statues— the only herd, by the way, in this country. A little farther on. some camels munched placidly.
And then — there against a background of shrubbery and trees perched a picturesque little buff-colored plaster house, and on its veranda stood a man who startlingly resembled the Christ. The sight was breath-taking. He wore a long, white mantle and in his face were lines of character, and of sadness, too. But it was his eyes that impressed you most. This was our first glimpse of H. B. Warner in the