Picture Show (Nov 1919-Apr 1920)

13 THE PICTURE SHOW l&*h£ fo&tt's' Otiu, dife Sfety JUST HE^fa PEARL WHITE. How the Story j Commenced. In the preceding chapters of her delightfully frank story. Pearl White sketched tlie history of her early childhood. Tliey _ wore not alto \ W wk <4* JSmKf £cihM happy fays, \ wtmF* '"' money waa v 9tSI -MmWX scarce in the house / f hold, ami her I ■ WsA*&ftBt^L '^k mother, who was ™ always very deli| cate, died pooh after her birth. Pearl was always Retting into mischief. Her father married again when she was six years old. When she was twelve years old her brother, who was her greatest pal, left home and joined the Navy. At the age of thirteen. Pearl decided to join a circus that came to her district, and later on she joined a touring company, lint her early efforts were not too successful. Next, Pearl was offered a job as a stewardess on a boat. Sea life did not agree with her, and she went on the stage, touring in Cuba, Buenos Aires, Tennessee, and Kansas. Then her voice began to go, and a woman advised her to try to get on " the pictures," and eventually she saves enough money for a trip to England. An acquaintance gives her an introduction to friends in London, and Pearl means to have a real good time. She buys expensive clothes takes rooms at the Carlton, and sets out to be a society woman, and tells of the tragedy of her first luncheon party, where among the guests was the late Lord Kitchener, from London she went to Paris. She becomes engaged to a count and visits his home in Rome. While there they visit a picture house, and Pearl appears on the screen. The count is disillusioned, and Pearl returns to Paris. The story then continues. "Sudden Death at Forty." I HAD been doing the " society stuff " around Gay Paree, and I guess I was getting a little bit bored and craved excitement, and I got some one night. I had tucked away in my bag still another letter of which I have not spoken before, so 1 took that out and mailed it to an address in Montmartre. Before leaving for Europe, I had spoken to one of the employees in the laboratory of the studio where 1 worked. He was a regular Apache type late!} arrived from France, so I suspected that he might know some thrilling people there. He was delighted to give me a letter of introduction to his sister — this was the letter. I was all dressed up in one of my best productions several evenings later, and had an engagement to go to the Opera. About seven o'clock the 'phone rang, and the clerk at the desk told me that there were four rather weirdlooking people downstairs asking for me. Said clerk was an Englishman, and imparted the news that they were pretty tough-looking customers, and that he didn't think that I ought to see them. But I suspected that they were the answer to my letter, and that there might bo some fun ahead, so I told them to wait, and, dressed like a Christmas-tree as J was, I went down to meet them. I had divined the truth. No one in the bunch was able to write English, and they had answered my letter in person. The husband of the woman to whom my letter was addressed spoke some English — one other spoke Italian. So I decided that I would get along all right with them, thoreforo I cut ray date lor the Opera, end we all went out together. As usual, being an American, they took me to the Folies Borgere, where I ran into several friends, who looked much askance at me, but I was out for a lark and thought I wa-s having a lot of fun. After tho theatre they would have taken mo to " The Dead Bat," or some place like that where Americans always go ; but no, I wanted to see the real Montmartre not tho show places. I therefore asked them to take me to some little place that they would go to themselves to have a few dances and a quiet evening — quiet ? Gee whiz ! There was a hurried discussion in French between the four. Then we all got into a hack and drove through a lot of winding streets. I tried to find the place afterwards but never could. Then they led me into a cellar where immediately I became the centre of attraction, naturally as I was all done up in expensive evening clothes. Well, I saw Montmartre — that is, for a couple of minutes. There was a wild-eyed looking bunch of people sitting around little tables, drinking some kind of strange liquor out of tall green bottles. Now the people that I was with were, respectively, two married couples, so I was sort of a fifth wheel for the dancing part of the programme, and they introduced me to a couple of gay " Othellos " with whom I could dance. One in particular was a dashing young Apache all done up in a cap, a flowing tie, and a velvet coat. 1 took a couple of sips of the strange liquor, which started my head spinning like a top — the music started, he grabbed me, and wo started out on a wild Apache dance, something new to me. Anyway, I stuck, and he slammed me around all over that room. I wasn't on my feet hardly any of the time, but being rather acrobatic I got along all right, and my partner was delighted with me, and when he led me back to the table he took out a couple of franc notes, which he pinned on my left shoulder. I didn't know tho meaning of this, but I now suspect it meant that I belonged to him as a partner for the rest of the dancing. Besides, I didn't understand any of his monologues in French, so I thought I was having a good time and didn't protest. The music started up again, and again I was " grabbed," but this time by another man who was sitting at another table. He was a little more genteel, and spoke English rather well. Being a blonde, I think he must have been a Sw iss or something of that sort. Well he wasn't so rough, and we danced around almost normally ; but every time we passed Mr. Apache Number One, he scowled dreadfully, and flung a lot of violent French phrases at us which I didn't understand, and on I danced. Finally, my partner coached me in a French sentence which in turn I delivered to the angry Apache. I guess that sentence must have been all wrong. Anyway, the next thing I remember is of seeing a lot of stars, and when I came to I was being carried into the. Ritz Hotel by the night watchman, covered with blood. I don't know just what happened, but I guess that the aforesaid Apache in a fit of passion had draped one of the tall green bottles over my head, and my companions had put me into a cab, then deposited rnc on the front door step of the hotel, being afraid to take me inside. Well, I got a lot of stitches taken in . my head (which Was cut open quite badly), a lot of "I told you so's" from the English clerk, and a lot of laughs from my friends. Needless to say I was through seeing Montmartre, although 1 did one evening put on an old suit of clothes, but along with a couple of regular friends this time, went into the downstairs part of the " Bal Tabarin." Maybe a lot they told mo wasn't true : be that as it may, I collected a lot of pathos and an insight into some strange forms of humanity. I love to study the different phases of human nature. Perhaps, when I get old, the applause ceases, and I sec others taking my place in tho limelight, this will be my saviour, because I realise tho tragedy that awaits each one of us who follows a professional career. To grow old without children, through whom wo can live our lives again, makes me shudder : but what is to be must be I guess, and anyway, The Picture Show, February 2l»t, 1920. the palmists read my lifeline as " sudden death, at forty " — and why not ? Up to date, 1 can truthfully say that my soul is pretty clean, and 1 have never done a great wrong to anyone on. earth. All those who know me mast admit that I am " square." The only thing that T am thoroughly ashamed of concerning my life is that I didn't get over and help to do something toward winning " tho big fight." 1 absolutely was unfit for a nurse. I did try mighty hard to go over as an ambulance driver, but they wouldn't take me. 1 could have gone over as an entertainer— not that I would have been entertaining — but it Is just the idea of doing something. However, when the Americans were allowed to go n that capacity, I was in the midst of an unfinished picture, and the armistice was signed in the meantime. I have worked very hard for the Liberty Loan and Red Cross, but that doesn't clear my conscience on6 bit, for after all, if I had had the right spirit, I would liavo gotten " over there " somehow, and a million good excuses don't help me at all. But the idea of this story is not to throw bouquets or mud at myself, but to turn loose " the dark horse in my closet of life," so getting on to the last of mv stav abroad. Meeting "Bep" Again. 1 ATTENDED quite a large reception in London one night exactly saven months from the date on which 1 had left America. Then 1 boarded a steamer at Southampton tho next morning, bound for America with a lot of memories of some wonderful times. I had a morning paper under my arm and when I opened it up on the front page was a large photograph of myself — li Pearl White, B rising young cinema star of America, who is visiting London to get ideas for her forthcoming photoplays." I don't know whether I had been recognised by some energetic young reporter or not. However, I strongly suspect Mr. Herbert Brenon, one of our greatest moving picture directors, as being the guilty party. He was taking pictures abroad at that time, and I had run across him some months before ia Paris ; anyway, the deed was done in a spirit of kindness, a photograph had been dug up in the office of one of the London moving picture magazines, who in turn passed it over to the newspaper. Maybe this article surprised some of my society friends, who looked upon me as a debutante, and did not suspect me of being an actress, maybe not. Anyway, that was the beginning of " my name in the papers." Well, the tall buildings of New York looked mighty good to me coming up the harbour, and I just felt like jumping up and down and shouting with joy at getting back to America. Besides, li Bep " might be there, and 1 had not forgotten my sentiment regarding him. Again Mr. Fate ! I had been back about two days, when coming out of the Ritz one day in a great hurry t bumped into " Bep." and nearly knocked him over. It seems I just turned out to be clumsy whenever he was around. " Oh, Miss White ! " he exclaimed. " When did you get back to America ? Why didn't you write to me and tell me how you were getting on abroad ? " Well, I couldn't tell him that a letter addressed to one, " Bep," New York City, would not have meant much to the post otliee authorities, so I lied " that I was so busy," or some such rot. " Do have dinner with me this evening to celebrate the occasion," ho begged, and, of courso, I said that I would love to, which was the truth. We were to dine at Sherry's at seven o'clock. I started to dress about four in the afternoon, hoping to look my " grandest." As a rule, it takes me about twenty minutes to get ready for anything, but not this occasion. I called in a massour and a hairdresser, and told them to do their darndest— and they did. I was massaged and marcelled all over the place. I tried on every Paris creation that 1 owned, and they all lookod rotten to me then. Those same gowns that had looked so gorgeous when I bought them. Finally I .got myself fastened into a plain white satin one, and with no other decoration^ whatever, except my brightest smile. I went to Sherry's with ' Bep," feeling awkward and actually shy. (To be continued next week.)