Picture Play Magazine (Mar-Aug 1927)

104 One Chance in Thousands Continued from page 58 ond baritone. Business in Montana promised to be more lucrative, so v/ith a family to care for he renounced his theatrical ambitions. For a while he prospered. Wartime conditions, however, forced him out and since then he has been employed in various lines of work, recently as a book agent in Los Angeles. "No, ma'am, it hasn't been so easy, with three young ones to raise, but neither has it been terribly tough. A grind rather than a struggle." He had a few moments to spare between his hours of strenuous riding, a necessary preliminary training to get him into trim for the activity of the role. So we had met for a "grab interview" in the publicity department of the Paramount studio. His resemblance to Roosevelt astounded me. His manner, however, disappointed me. He was too mild. Still, just because one's memory records reading snatches of the virile soldier-president's peppy life, one can't expect his screen prototype to clash into the office with a war whoop, stride up and down, ejaculate in a booming voice and bristle with action. I scarcely know what I did anticipate. I had a vague expectation of a dominant big man who would bare his teeth at me and perhaps growl. Instead, I found a pleasant gentleman, still a little surprised by his good luck, but schooling himself to it as another of those shocks — this being the first really fortunate one ■ — that life had dealt him. When he brought home the news of his sudden good fortune, naturally it caused stupefaction. Elizabeth, nineteen, was away on a visit. John and Charles, sixteen and seventeen, eyed him with blank amazement. Their father in the movies ! Their quiet, mild-mannered dad, who was accustomed to come in from a hard day's work to do justice to mother's good dinner and then to settle with his pipe and paper in the comfy, worn big chair. When they recovered, of course the boys spread the news over the neighborhood in great excitement. Suppose your father were chosen to play the leading role in one of the biggest movies of the season, what would you think of it? Well, that's what John and Charles thought. "No, ma'am, I've never studied Roosevelt's life particularly, until lately." With an innate honesty, Mr. Hopper answered me. "I've read about him and admired him, as all Americans do. But, though people often commented on my likeness to him, I never thought seriously about it. Now I'm reading everything I can find about him and learning to copy his every gesture. Mr. Hagedorn gave me some prints of news-reel scenes showing Roosevelt during the last years of his life. I flash 'em on a small screen. "Roosevelt is more than an ideal ; he's a sort of tradition. I feel humble, to be playing him. "I'm not naturally very gruff. All I can do is try to simulate that phase of his personality. But listen, Roosevelt wasn't any torpedo all the time. He was vigorous in action, but a kind and considerate man." Hopper's future is problematical — even his success in this picture, though Paramount officials are confident of his ability to impersonate our national hero realistically in looks, action, and manner. A question arises, which only time can settle. Will he, like Billings, who gave us such a memorably genuine and human portrayal of Lincoln that no opportunity to display any versatility that he may possess has since been accorded him, continue for a while in a succession of Theodore Roosevelt roles and then drop from sight as an actor ? Will he, after his brief day of glory, resume the humdrum existence which antedated it? All that can be said at present is that he will most likely give us a rousing portrayal of Roosevelt, simple and kindhr in his associations, courageous in facing danger and in fighting for his principles. A Roosevelt organizing his volunteer regiment of cavalry — Western cowboys, college athletes, sportsmen — and boldly leading his men in a charge on foot, storming San Juan Hill. A man who knew when to use courtesy and when to use fists. Anyway, this incident has served to patch up the friendship between the faiiy godmothers and me. Continued from page 21 "Why, nothing suits them !" As a matter of fact they are the movies' real rooters. But they're particular about what they want. Dogs and horses, and heroes with red blood and woolly pants — that's what they love. You can't find a bad report anywhere on Rex, the devil horse, or Rin-Tin-Tin. Tom Mix is their favorite player of the human species. Like other big stars, Tom had a temporary rush of art to the head and changed his khaki shirt for a suit of white flannel trimmed with tooled leather. For a while he tried tangoing instead of riding, but during that period of his career his old friends among the fans neglected him and turned to a newcomer named Fred Thomson, who has surged into tremendous popularity within the last few seasons. But Mix has realized his mistake now and has regained his old place as favorite by going back into his regular line of stunts. We— Want— Hokum ! "Dandy!" "Knock-out!" "Wow!" "Clean-up!" These are the enthusiastic reports that Mr. Steinbaum receives on all kinds of outdoor pictures— stories by Zane Grey, James Oliver Curwood, Harold Bell Wright and the lesser press agents of the pine-tree country. A farm paper reaching more than a million fans took a vote among its readers recently and obtained some concrete evidence on what the rural population prefers in the way of films. The ballot showed the smalltown patronage inclining toward screen entertainment in this order: Melodramas Farce comedies Short comedies Society comedies Serials Society dramas News reels A poll on the relative popularity of players showed that the five best beloved in the outlying districts are Tom Mix, Fred Thomson, Thomas Meighan, Colleen Moore, and Norma Talmadge — a significent slight to such metropolitan favorites as Chaplin, Adolphe Menjou, Gloria Swanson, and Douglas Fairbanks. So Mr. Steinbaum has decided not to worry any more but to hire a couple of clever police dogs, one or two intelligent horses, and a couple of wild-ridin' cowboys. With the help of Wall Street, he will continue to turn out a work of "art" every now and then, but for him the old hokum will never die. Just put it down as one of the cruel realities of life that if Rockefeller went in for the exclusive production of artistic motion pictures he'd be broke in a year. But don't be concerned about Mr. Steinbaum. He has learned the great secret of American business — that Rolls-Royces are beautiful and easy-riding, but that Henry Ford made all his money manufacturing flivvers.