Picture Play Magazine (Sep 1928 - Feb 1929)

The Stroller 25 inspection," he told his company. "I'm going to yell and tear my hair, and bawl out everybody in the troupe, just to impress him." Shortly thereafter one of the members of the company saw a party of visitors approaching the set, and ran to tell the director. The party happened to be a group of distinguished rabbis, who were visiting Hollywood. When they came on the set, Eddie decided one of them must be an official of the company, and' so he put on his act accordingly. Bozo's master is never seen except in the company of his trained goose. Over at the William Fox studio they have an athletic instructor — a former professional boxer — whose duty it is .to keep all the masculine stars in physical trim. Every star on the lot is required to report to him daily, and the instructor fills out a statement on the condition of each one. My spy at that studio informs me that the following report was filed regarding the condition of Barry Norton, the lilylike lad who was introduced to the screen as the aesthetic young Mother's Boy, in "What Price Glory." "Mr. Norton," so ran the report, "showed up for inspection this morning swith a set of badly bruised knuckles. He said he got them from hitting some one in the mouth — but I doubt it." Aviation, which has always been of more or less interest to the movie colony, is becoming increasingly popular, particularly since — according to newspaper reports— the producers have decided to strike out* the clause in stars' contracts forbidding them to fly. Dozens of persons who can afford it — and quite a few, no doubt, who cannot — own their own planes, and man\ others are learning to fly, in the hope that Lady Luck will some time make them rich. The possibilities in having one's private airplane were never clearly pointed out to me until the other day. A friend of mine is taking instruction at one of the airports near Hollywood, and he told me that Wallace Beery arrived at the field one morning, in his private ship, and proudly exhibited a string of trout he had just caught. "Caught 'em in Silver Lake this morning," he said. Silver Lake is a remote mountain stream, near the Utah-California border, some hundreds of miles from the studio, yet Beery could fish for an hour in the morning, and be back in time for work at noon. I wonder if the editor of Picture Play would head a subscription to help buy me an airplane. With all the profundities that have been and are being uttered about the rapid growth of talking pictures, I don't believe any one has stated in print what I regard as the real reason for Hollywood's sudden enthusiasm for the talkies. Los Angeles is in the midst of a theater depression^ All the downtown show houses are losing money, Grauman's Chinese Theater is closed, and managers are in a mighty despair. Yet the new Warner Brothers Theater in Hollywood is playing to a capacity house at every performance, with long lines of customers patiently waiting for the next show to start. Producers who own theaters that are losing money, and who ride down Hollywood Boulevard in their palatial limousines, cannot fail to be impressed by the crowds in front of the new theater. Incidentally, the new show house is becoming a terrific annoyance to those Hollywoodians who reside in the neighborhood, the theater being situated in an apartment-house district. Starting at noon, or shortly thereafter, the inhabitants of the district cannot park their cars within blocks of their own fireside. All of which, doubtless, does not concern the Brothers Warner in the slightest. Roland Asher, a scenarist and comedy director, has conceived a plot for a Hollywood tragedy all his own. I am stealing it from him for these pages. A director — so his sad story goes — was out of work for months. Finally he was given a chance. Jubilant, he worked night and day preparing his picture, convinced that his great chance had come. The story he was to film concerned a dog — a large and vicious dog. The morning that the picture started, the beast was led to the set. Immediately he broke his leash and took after the director, snarling and snapping. The dog's trainer finally subdued the animal, and the director crawled down out of the rafters. "Does he act that way toward everybody?" the director asked. "Nope," said the trainer, "it's a funny thing. This dog instantly takes strong likes and dislikes. If he dislikes a man, there, is no being around him after that." The producer at that moment came upon the set, and the director explained the situation. "The dog doesn't like me," said the director. "I'll have to get another dog." Continued on page 114 A canine star forms an instant aversion to an aspiring director. „ \ f ..' / l< t