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The Vainest Dog in the MoVies
When wrinkles marred the appeal of King Tut he followed some well-known examples and got his face lifted.
Photo by Wenger
King Tut is now the Beau Brummel among the dogs of filmdom.
SHADES of Fanny Ward, Sophie Tucker, and a few dozen other stage and screen celebrities whose faces have been made over ! What next ? King Tut, the movie dog, has gone and had his face lifted, too!
Think of that, you seekers of youth, whose wrinkles have been removed, whose noses have been remodeled, whose eyes have been widened and the puffs cut away. Your example has gone to the dogs.
Almost every fan knows King Tut. He is that sad-eyed, wirehaired canine who appeared with Harry Langdon, in "The Mail Man," with George Sidney and Vera Gordon, in "The Cohens and Kellys," with Clara Bow, in "Rough-house Rosie" and "Ladies of the Mob," and with Harold Lloyd, in "Speedy." In all, he has played in twenty-two pictures. From a mongrel, with a face like a frayed-out clothes brush, he has been transformed into an actor with large and lustrous eyes, and the means of expressing heart appeal. He has become a Beau Brummel among movie dogs.
King Tut lays no claim to aristocratic lineage. Somewhere in his ancestry there appears to have been the blood of Airedale, police dog, and brindle bull. No one knows just what else. E. G. Henry, a studio employee, bought him as a puppy for fifty cents
from a little girt who had been sent to a corner grocery in Hollywood. She really had offered to give him away, but Henry thought that four bits was about what he was worth. So he took him to the studio to raise.
The puppy developed remarkable intelligence. Some say that he now "thinks" more than any dog in pictures. Certainly he takes direction as well as any other dog in the movies. His most remarkable piece of acting, perhaps, was his role as a mad dog in Lloyd's "Speedy," which was filmed largely in New York. King Tut was transported across" the continent just to play that role. Some critics say, too, that King Tut stole the picture in Red Grange's "Racing Romeo." He is perhaps the busiest dog in Hollywood not under contract. He earns fifty dollars a day, or two hundred and fifty dollars a week. His owner values him at $50,000. Not long ago Tut's eyes began botherk ing him. There was so much wiry hair about them, and so much growing into them, that he began looking as though he was a rum addict. The eyes were red nearly all the time, and puffs gathered beneath the lower lids. Day by day he became more disreputable in appearance. Continued on page 112
The mongrel bought for fifty cents now earns fifty dollars a day.