Picture Play Magazine (Sep 1928 - Feb 1929)

49 The Saga of the Hobo Wallace Beery will relive many of his own experiences in "Beggars of Life," a story of "the road." By Myrtle Gebhart IN the Texas twilight, which isn't twilight at all, but a misty, slate-gray envelope of gloom, two kids sat by a water tank, just outside the town of Gainsborough, and jawed. It was odd, the uncommon lot of things they found to talk about, when there was no life stirring in all that stretch — either way. In the fraternizing of the road, community of interest usually ends with such matters as food and cops. But "Red" had; found the arrow on the tank — the direction of a pal who had preceded him West. "The Fox" had made a pretense of combing the shock of matted hair above his rough-hewn, big-boned face. Wearied by such effort, they had appraised each other and decided upon confidence — guardedly. "They're gettin' horstile down here," Red observed. "Never saw them Dallas dicks stir their dogs so much before." His chuckle carried a note of appreciative memory. "I'm headed for the Coast. Some day I'm goin' to write books." His eyes indicated that sarcasm would be resented. "Yeah?" The Fox shifted a leg, stretched, and said: "You and I got ambition, 'bo. I'm goin' to be an actor, wear swell, silk tights, and play Rom-eo. No more moochm' for me." Just two bums, about twenty-two years ago, dreaming dreams. Their keen ears picked up a distant rumble, and, as it sang down to them along the shining rails, they ambled; into a thicket. When the train had picked up its speed again, Jim Tully and Edwin Carewe slept contentedly on the rods, despite the sand and stone that was blown, like hail, against their faces. About the same time, a roughneck, overgrown boy, with a widespread grin over his spatulate features, swung with the lurch of the speeding express. He was riding, as an experienced bum should, the blind baggage. His bulk did not fit well in the lower berths used by the more slim and wiry 'bos. Soon, when his vehicle slowed into the yards, he would make his way to an outgoing freight and into a cattle car, unmindful of the stench that was blown in his face. They called h i m "Jumbo," because of his elephantine hugeness, and those big hands — like hams— that slapped the pachyderms such resounding smacks. At present, he was making the best of an experience common to all nomads of the little, gyp circuses. He Louise Brooks, Richard Arlen, and Wallace Beery in a scene from "Beggars of Life." Wally Beery hopes "Beggars of Life" will be a success, so he will have an opportunity to play more roles of the same type. had been "red-lighted" (thrown off the pay roll for a minor offense), and forbidden to come on the grounds. In that way they wouldn't have to pay him his dollar fifty a week "holdback" at the end of the season. Three and a half a week, and a dollar fifty hold-back, if you got it, had looked grand to him a few months before. So had the scuffed brogans that had hardly any soles left now. All his life he'd never had new clothes of his own, nothing but hand-me-downs, until the brogans. But he was progressin'. Having, as bull man, broken the toughest elephants under the painted top, he was growing ambitious. Barnum didn't know what he was missing. Why, hadn't he disciplined the stubbornest elephants? The world held possibilities, all of which he was capable of realizing. If anybody had told Jumbo Beery, nineteen and carefree, that he would some day be an actor, that he would