Picture Play Magazine (Mar-Aug 1927)

53 Film Struck Another installment of a novel of the movies as humorous as it is unusual. By Roland Ashford Phillips Illustrated by Modest Stein CHAPTER VII. IN A STRANGE WORLD. STANDING alone, remote from the activity beyond, Oscar gravely contemplated the predicament into which he had blundered. He entertained no desire to become one of the scurrying crowd that was to achieve recognition in the forthcoming picture-drama ; did not want to remain on the scene, a trespasser, an interloper. The very thought of being identified with the film industry alarmed him, aroused sudden and unpleasant recollections in his mind. He shrank from accepting the blue ticket that gave him privileges to which certainly he was not entitled ; yet how to extricate himself with the least amount of trouble became a problem. If at all quick-witted, he would have realized the situation in the beginning and taken measures to avoid it ; but the idea of a picture town set up among the desert hills had been as remote from his thoughts as finding a ham sandwich on a yucca bush. After considerable mental effort and no little trepidation at the thought of what it might entail, Oscar decided the sensible thing to do would be to seek some one in authority, explain the circumstances, surrender his card, and set off toward Sapphire, wherever it was to be found. Surely it could not be a great distance. Already it was late. Long, purple shadows were beginning to drift across the hills and blot out the ghostly shapes of tents, to blur the ugly structures that lined the street. But with their coming, as if a magic button had been pressed, countless lights began to spring up. It was, so Oscar found himself thinking, exactly like a circus grounds, with its tents and hurrying throngs and all manner of strange paraphernalia scattered about, most mysterious in the shadows. Borne on reluctant feet, Oscar advanced toward the two larger tents, which seemed to be the center of activity. As he drew nearer, his searching eyes discerned, in one of the tents, a line of cots and a host of men moving about among them. In the other, whose canvas sides were raised, he beheld again the row of tables, where white-clad waitresses performed ; and again his nostrils were overwhelmed by the appetizing scent of food. Already he saw many folks were eating. Oscar, gazing upon the scene, felt a vast emptiness directly below his near-silver belt buckle. His good resolutions were put to rout. He did not want to become a picture-play actor; but he did want to eat. He must eat. The call was irresistible. Never, it seemed, had he been so ravenously hungry. Without the slightest difficulty, he convinced himself it would be far better to postpone his journey to Sap phire until after supper. It would be something of a trial to walk any distance at all in his present famished condition — and needless. He stood ready to pay for all he ate. He wasn't a bum. Not much. Not with close to three hundred dollars tucked in his wallet. And even if it cost a dollar, he wouldn't object. First, however, he must dispose of his suit case and seek soap and water, for he felt disgracefully dirty. There was a great babble of voices in the dormitory tent, and much hurrying to and fro, and he stood a moment at the door, timid, uncertain. But presently he saw that each cot bore a number above it. and it occurred to him the numbers must correspond to those on the blue cards. Emboldened, he entered and found a cot over which his number hung. Beside it was a rough, improvised locker ; into this he thrust his suitcase. After removing his coat, he made his way into the washroom ana doused his head into a pan of cold water. Then he snared soap and towel and finished the job, emerging clean and pink and agreeably refreshed. None of his companions paid him any marked attention, and he went back to his cot, to don a clean shirt and collar. The men who claimed the cots on either side of him talked back and forth between themselves with considerable laughter and in a language that he failed at times to interpret. The man on his left was middle-aged, stout, possessed of a ruddy face and a thick beard that he combed lovingly. The other was a rangy, thin-cheeked individual with sharp, probing eyes, who wore a conspicuous checked suit and kept a cigarette hanging between his lips while he talked. It was the latter who addressed Oscar at length, after subjecting'him to a prolonged scrutiny. "Say, big boy." he began, "I ain't seen you around the lots much, have I?" "Not much," Oscar returned. "New, eh? How come you got in on this batch of hand-picked atmosphere? Got a drag somewhere?" "Well, I'm here." Oscar took an instant dislike to the thin-cheeked man and wanted him to know it. which may have accounted for the brevity of his response. "Looks that way," the other stated, his eyes running over Oscar's husk} form. "You're a snappy dresser, all right. Or is this wardrobe you're wearing? Where'd you browse before the celluloid urge became too pronounced ? Iowa ?" Oscar experienced a sudden stab of suspicion. "How'd you guess that?" he demanded. Synopsis of Preceding Chapters. One of the prime attractions of the town of La Belle, Iowa, is the Rosebud delicatessen and lunch counter. And the Rosebud's great attraction is Oscar Whiffle, its young chef. His eventual marriage to Gladys Padgett seems certain, even though they disagree on one point — the movies. She is a rabid fan, but Oscar scoffs at her enthusiasm. He goes with her, however, to the personal appearance at the local theater of Lester Lavender, Gladys' favorite screen lover. Back again behind his counter later that night, Oscar is amazed when the great Lester saunters in and orders food. Hating the whole tribe of movie actors, he taunts the star into a fight, and is ingloriously knocked out. Recovering himself, he surprises Gladys with Lester in the park at midnight and makes known his objections. In the fight that follows Lester is knocked cold, and Oscar believes himself to be a murderer. There is no course but flight. He boards a train and decides to make Sapphire, Arizona, his destination. As he alights on the deserted platform, another train, coming from the opposite direction, deposits a large number of passengers, and Oscar finds himself in the midst of a babbling throng. Swept along" with them into a bus, he is confused by talk he does not understand, and when he later finds himself standing in line before a "window, he knows even less of what it is all about. Asked his name, he stammers "What?" and is given a ticket bearing the name. "Oscar Watt." and below, "The Super-Apex Film Corporation." He had stumbled onto the thing he hated most — the movies !