Picture-Play Magazine (Mar-Aug 1927)

34 Has Success Changed Ben Lyon? The writer who was the first to interview him in his early days pays him another visit after four years and finds him a little more mature, but still the same merry prankster. By Alma Talley FOUR years ago the writer had an interview with an obscure young newcomer to the films. His name was Ben Lyon, and the interview was his very first for publication in a motion-picture magazine. He had been playing the juvenile lead in "Mary the Third" on the stage, his first Broadway appearance after several years of stock and road companies. Samuel Goldwyn had seen him in that play and had given him a part, in the film version of "Potash and Perlmutter." Ben had just finished the picture and was leaving for California when the interview took place. He was then twenty-three, a black-haired boy with merry, deepblue eyes, a slight Southern accent, a delightfully jolly manner, and a natural wit which made him a most amusing companion. He was then, perhaps, a little naive, showing me photographs of his dog, of his former home in Baltimore, and talking earnestly of his future. He had been making three — or perhaps it was four — hundred dollars a week in "Potash and Perlmutter" — the most he had ever made. And now that the picture was finished, Samuel Goldwyn was sending him on his way to California, with the Goldwyn blessing and a letter of introduction in his pocket. Ben was very much thrilled by all this — "Young Man Makes Good." The future looked rosy; perhaps his career had definitely turned the corner toward prosperity, and there would be no more lean years of onenight stands in road shows, with bad food, bad hotels, bad railroad accommodations. Ben hoped all that was past. This happens to be a story of dreams come true. All that was past. When I went to see him recently, I was reminded of one of those "before and after" ads. Ben had taken a close of fame in the meanwhile, and it seemed to have agreed with him very well. The interview took place in Ben's marine-blue car, in and out of which he dashed between shots on location. He was wearing a handsome tweed topcoat. His face was rounder, fuller — looking, naturally, a little more mature. Self-assurance, greater sophistication, had come with success. Otherwise Ben is much the same witty boy he used to be, with that merry twinkle in his eyes — still the life of the party, still somewhat of a prankster. His press agent, who was with us, pulled out a package of a new brand of cigarettes. "Well, well," said Ben, "you answer all the ads, don't you?" And I knew at once that, if I only shut my eves to the new car, Ben hadn't changed a bit. The company — Ben, Sam Hardy, a few minor players, and dozens of electricians, camera men .and prop men — was on location, taking street scenes for "High Hat." It was in the Harlem section of New York, where the company had rented an empty building and plastered it with signs, designating it a Greenwich Village restaurant — "The Blue Cow Cafe. Dining -and Dancing." Across the narrow street from the building were cameras, and noisy sunlight arcs mounted on trucks. Ben's car was parked up the street a little, and he had invited us to "step into his dressing room." He was just finishing the picture prior to his de parture for California a few days later. The interview was rather an intermittent affair, so this is mainly a story of just what Ben is like personally. I offered him congratulations on his work in "The Prince of Tempters," which had just been hailed by a highbrow critic as one of the ten best performances of the year. "That's because Lothar Mendes, the director, knew how to guide his players," Beii said emphatically. "Every time I work under a director who tells me exactly what to do, I get good notices. Yet you'd be surprised how often directors let actors do things their own way ; the result is that one man is overplaying, another is underplaying, and you have farce, drama, burlesque, all in one picture. I can't get any perspective on my own work — it's the director's job to get the perspective. He knows just what effects he is after in each scene — at least he should know — and he should see to it that the players are pulling together, rather than in different directions. It's just the same with an orchestra leader — it's the man with the baton whose job it is to control the ensemble." At this point the press agent put in that Ben had had considerable training years ago in Jessie Bonstelle's stock company, and that it was too bad that he was always being cast in roles in which he had no opportunity to display any histrionic ability. Usually, he's cast as a good-looking young man who merely walks through the picture. "The fans certainly know the difference when I have a real role to play," Ben said. "My mail increased a lot after 'The Prince of Tempters' — the letters actually increased at the rate of two hundred a day. Imagine that ! From an average of four hundred and fifty to six hundred and fifty. Charming letters, some of them. You'd be surprised, the different kinds of people who write — -young girls, mothers, grandmothers." The very fact that he's the sort of young man of whom both very young girls and their mothers seem to approve, makes Ben doubtful if he is appropriately cast in the "sexy" roles he is so often given. It's odd that he should get mash notes and letters from girls' mothers as well as from the girls themselves. "But, gee ! that fan mail is expensive," Ben said, somewhat ruefully, though obviously the letters mean a lot to him. "I have to pay salaries to two secretaries ; and last week I handed out ninety dollars for postage stamps, and the week before one hundred and twenty. The fans have no idea how much it costs to send out photos, and few ever think of sending a quarter." At this moment a call came for Ben to go back before the camera. "Hungry?" he asked, as he left. "I hope this will be the last shot." Hungry ! It was long past one o'clock and every one was starving. The company was trying to finish the location shots before returning to the studio for lunch. "Ben "wants to know if you'd like some of this cheese." A prop man stuck his head in the" window of the car. Would we ! We seized -two little triangles wrapped in tinfoil and opened them greedily. Inside each was a little — block of wood ! Ben was at it again. Still a prankster. [Continued on page 1111