Picture-Play Magazine (Sep 1928 - Feb 1929)

Oh, Those Hollywood Parties! 23 He plac furnishing houses, and then selling them. Mr. Donovan is by way of being a film actor, when opportunity arises. He has starred in several Westerns, and made personal appearances with the pictures. Well, four of us came in, and lots of young Thalians leaped out from behind doors and things and cried, "Surprise !" There was a large living-room patio, with a great fireplace, and divans and chairs. Stars were shining overhead, since the patio was not roofed. Hurray for the California climate! The floor was of red tile, except in the corners, where large banana trees were growing. When we had all managed to recover from the surprise, Jack Donovan brought groups together to see the house. Much of the furniture he and his mother themselves had made and "antiqued." There were other odd bits, which they had collected here and there from old Spanish missions, and so on. An altar, at the end of the hall, with candles burning, iron balconies overlooking the patio, an old church bell, and a stairway which had a history, and so was brought into the living room, although it led nowhere. After we had seen the house, and Mr. Donovan's lifesaving medals which hung on the wall, he called for volunteers to go out to the garage and see his cars. He had, among others, a big, white foreign roadster of which he was very proud, but which he feared he might have to sell, because it was too conspicuous. I'm not sure just why it was less conspicuous when he bought it. In the back yard was a flagpole sixty-five feet high. This really had a mission in life. When Mr. Donovan is out at sea in what he calls his yacht, there may come a call from a studio. In case there should, some one at home runs up a flag. I have a dreadful feeling that Mr. Donovan spends most of his yachting time with a telescope to his eye, watching the top of the flagpole. After our tour of the premises, the party really began. If you think of Hollywood parties in terms of big "gin busts," then you're all wrong. There was no hard liquor at this one ! We all sat around in a room full of interesting furniture ; indeed, one chair was so interesting that Mr. Donovan seized it away from a placidly sitting guest, and gave him another instead. And then we played numbers. There were ten of us in that game, which soon proved so fascinating that our little group was increased to fifteen. In case you've never played numbers — and I assure you that I never had — this is how it goes: The head of the line is No. 1, the next 2, and so on. Say your number is 5. When some one shouts "No. 5 I" you have to shout another number quickly, or go to the foot of the line. The object of the game is to be the head man and start the shouting. Well, it was really a very merry game ; every time the man ahead of you missed his cue and went to the foot of the line, that changed your number. So you see it was really quite a mental problem to remember what your number was. seized a chair from a idly sitting guest, and gave him another instead. We played this for about an hour, with squeals and arguments, and then we told riddles. "What is it that you find in an apple, in a lemon, in a pineapple, but not in a cherry or a peach?" That one had us all guessing. And its perpetrator just wouldn't relieve our suspense. He kept adding more. "It's also in the leg of that chair, and in the mantel. But not in the carpet." He just kept naming things which had this mysterious "It," and other things which hadn't. And you'd never guess what it finally turned out to be. None other than the letter "1" ! We had another conundrum to puzzle over. "A blind fiddler had a son, but the fiddler was not the son's father. Who was it?" We all tried and tried on that one. We'd guess stepfather, uncle and all the relatives we could think of. Each time the puzzler would patiently repeat his little riddle, but it was hours before we learned the answer. It seems that the blind fiddler was the son's mother ! And I really don't see what her being blind had to do with it, anyhow. There was a little girl there from the South, Laura Benham, with a sugar-coated accent. "You're from the North, aren't you?" asked Jack Donovan, with a very straight face. "What makes you think that ?" "Because of the accent," he said, restraining his glee. "Why, that's funny," said Laura. "Usually everybody knows right away that I'm from the South." Whereupon there were great chortles of laughter. I understand the Thalians usually play drop the handkerchief, and once in a while they play post office, but it was just my luck to miss out on these merry amusements. Occasionally some one got up to dance when the radio obliged with a dance tune ; Laura Benham and a lank young man, Sally Eilers and Matty Kemp, who are supposed to be engaged, only Mack Sennett won't let them get married. It was a very merry evening, and I don't understand all this worry about what the younger generation is coming to. And I haven't given up hope that some day I am really going to find one of those famous Hollywood orgies. When a flag is run up, it means a call from a studio — just the thing when an actor is "yachting."