Central Airport (Warner Bros.) (1933)

FEATURE STORIES thain watiegn har +e (Advance Feature) ‘Central Airport’’ Shows Man-Made Storm at Sea Thrilling Climax in Richard Barthelmess Drama One of the Most Amazing Scenes Ever Filmed DISABLED passenger hydroplane adrift in the storm tossed Caribbean . . . buffeted by savage gales... reeling and rocking under the incessant pounding of foaming waves, each white-crested breaker grasping hungrily at the half dozen human beings clinging desperately to the derelict ship, threatening every second to sweep them into eternity ... drenching sheets of tropical rain beating upon the castaways, as the wild black sky is ripped from horizon to horizon by jagged blades of blind ing lightning . . . a lone pilot crouching beside his anguished charges, grimly sending up rocket after rocket in an appeal for help ... suddenly, out of the deafening tumult of the storm, the welcome rhythmic murmur of an airplane engine, far-off at first, but coming nearer as the last rocket goes up to guide the unknown rescuer to his goal... out of the heart of the hurricane the rescue plane looming up, hovering, settling down beside the stricken vessel . . . six human beings snatched from certain death while the tempest howls in impotent fury around them... | “Central Airport’? Climax | That’s the climax of First National’s “Central Airport,” with Richard Barthelmess as the pilot of the rescue plane, a picture which OPIN 0G TO sisson thas ssscpyent nn ostnccceinaay A RORGLO = O05 octane sloaccine After you have seen the vivid realism of it on the screen, it’s dif _ ficult to remember that it must have been made within the limits of a studio lot, simply because storms like that can’t be photographed in Se The big studio lake, well over an acre in extent, on the back lot of the First National Studios was turned into a mimic ocean for the storm sequence. Director William A. Wellman, the actors and a small army of technical experts settled down to solve the numerous problems connected with the making of the sequence at seven o’clock one evening, and finished when dawn streaked the sky ten hours later. The big effects had been successfully shot. And a hundred or more men staggered sleepily to their cars and drove home with the satisfaction of a good job accomplished without a disaster or a casualty. Seen under the glare of two score are lights flooding the big aluminum airship anchored in the middle of the lake, with wind machines roaring in a deafening chorus and lightning torches belching columns of yellow flame into the night sky at regular intervals, the scene — made to order though it was — took on an impressiveness all its own. In the middle of the lake, half way between the airship and the shore, was anchored a covered platform. Here were the cameras and their operators, Bill Wellman and nis microphone, the script clerk, the chief electrician and other essential members of the staff. A loud speaker system on shore, connected with the director’s and the chief electrician’s microphones carried their orders to all parts of the huge set. Wave Making Machines Built on platforms that flanked the airplane on all sides, but still} outside the range of the cameras, were huge wooden cradles, each manned by three or four men. These were the wave-making machines, with paddles that went down into the water below. As the men worked these up and down, pump-handle fashion, waves began rolling from all directions toward the plane, rocking and rolling it as though it were tossing in a stormy sea. At strategic points along the shore, half a dozen airplane propellers, mounted on carriages, were spotted—the wind machines. A dozen pipes, fitted with spraying jets at their ends, were strung out over the ship and at intervals Page Four fo, Kal 3-5 DON bo between the plane and the camera booth, ready to pour forth showers of rain at the director’s signal. Facing each other across the anchored airplane, from opposite shores of the lake, stood two rows of towers, looking like miniature grain or coal elevators. A broad wooden flume ran from each of them to the surface of the water. Six water reservoirs in each battery, each holding about 100 gallons of water, with an operator beside each one, ready to unleash the water at the director’s signal, and send it foaming down against the doomed plane. Back of the director’s booth, ou the farther shore of the lake, stood the twelve-foot lightning machine. On the banks of the lake, high up on the light platforms and on the different floats, the yellow oilskins of electricians, property men and other workmen gleamed in the are lights as they moved to and fro. a final testing of his effects. “Send your actors out to the plane,” lie called to his assistants. A rowboat filled with half a dozen players who were to portray the ill-fated passengers of the wrecked plane moved across the lake. One by one they climbed into the cabin of the big ship. Once—and again—there was a quick, tense rehearsal of the players. “All right—we’re going to take it!” he shouted. “Get ready, everybody!” | The Storm Breaks | “Switch on all your ares!” In an instant the entire scene was flooded with light. A few terse instructions from the chief electrician and here and there around the lake an are was killed until the helpless plane rocked and wallowed in a weird, fitful light. “Get these wave machines goin!” shouted Wellman. The big wooden cradles began to move up and down rhythmically—the plane began responding to the mimic billows, slowly, then more violently. “Start your rain!” From a dozen jets over the lake the water spouted, falling in lifelike torrents over the airship and the surrounding water, while first the director, then the chief cameraman watched the effect through the finder. “Now the wind machines!” The six big airplane propellers roared into action, hurling their blasts into the sheets of falling water and scattering the spray for yards around. “All right—action!” yelled Wellman. The plane was careening dizzily in the trough of the waves as the uniformed cap of the pilot appeared from the forward end of the cabin. A pistol flashed in his hand—a red rocket went soaring up into the night, The pilot turned and leaned back into the plane, presently coming up again with the swathed form of a baby in his arms. Then the mother struggled out, assisted by another officer, and the baby was laid tenderly in her arms. Now the male passengers came tumbling out, scrambling to a precarious position of safety on the wet, slippery wing of the plane, Aman, wcver | (Advance Feature) Sentimental Barthelmess Enjoys Stormy Weekends Star of “Central Airport’? Likes the Touch of New England in Pacific Coast Home NEW ENGLAND aneestry and a liking for rocking chairs and narrow porches are some of the things which Richard Barthelmess can’t forget even while in California. Barthelmess can be found, almost any week-end indulging his ancestral bents and exercising rockers on the narrow porches of his Cape Cod farmhouse on the ocean front, far up the Malibu, twenty miles from Hollywood. We found him there on a blustery winter afternoon recently, muffled, cold and contented although the sheltered, ocean-front side of his house offered warm sunshine and protection from a raw wind. The white, ladder-backed rocking chairs—six of them —had just arrived and both the actor and Mrs. Barthelmess were trying them out determinedly ignoring an unsympathetic climate. Artist’s impression of Richard Barthelmess who once more thrills his fans as the star of the Strand’s current hit, “Central Airport.” Sally Eilers has the leading feminine role. Cut No. 1 The chairs had cost the Barthelmess two dollars each—painted. They have hard seats and narrow, straight backs, and the porch which they decorate is narrow and severely plain. But those chairs belong in the simple setting in which we found them and so, surprisingly, do Barthelmess and his wife. A little known side of Richard where one of the officers had already lashed a rope for them to cling to. A woman’s scream now and then cut through the tumult.“A man lost his head and dove into the sharkinfested sea. The second officer made a heroic effort to save him, missed, lost his balance and was swept away with the panic-stricken passenger. “Cut!” shouted Wellman, with a fierce gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. “That’s our long shot, and we'll never get a better one! Get ready to move in for the close action!” The picture, “Central Airport,” is a romance of the air based on the story, “clawk’s Mate” by Jack Moffitt and adapted to the screen by Rian James and James Seymour. Included in the cast supporting Barthelmess are Sally Hilers, Tom Brown, Glenda Farrell, Harold Huber, Grant Mitchell and James Murray. Cut 30¢ Mat 10c Barthelmess’ complex personality is evident in this setting; a simple and a sentimental side, pleasant to contemplate. He built the house a little more than a year ago and it is one of the few things he is actively enthusiastic about. In spite of that he has spent precious little time enjoying it, since he moves to his Town House apartments when he is at work on a picture, as he did during the production of “Central Airport,” which comes to the nh ane Eheatre ones ass | His Sentimental Side | “We planned it ourselves,” Barthelmess explained later, after the rocking chairs had been deserted for the living room fire place, “with the help of an architect, of course. It’s what we like. It’s the kind of a place where you can grow a beard —and nobody will care,” “Both Mrs. Barthelmess and I like being here in stormy weather. There’s enough New England background in each of us for that. We are trying to enjoy life to the best of our ability. When I signed my new contract with First National and agreed to make three pictures for the same money I was originally to get for making two, I figured it out this way. I make one picture for the company, one picture for the government and one for myself.” He grinned. “This,” he said, waving his hand around, “comes out of my share.” The living room of the Barthelmess beach house is a large room, nearly square, with white walls and a beamed, white-washed ceiling. A row of small paned windows look south over a sunny sea-front, glass sheltered porch and a similar row of windows looks north into the court which the two storied house circles on three sides. Barthelmess objects to having this brick-paved court called a patio. The narrow porches face this inner court off of both floors. All six bedrooms open onto these balconies and an outside stairway leads from the brick pavement to the second floor. The furnishings are comfortable, fitting and unpretentious. | Helped Wife Shop | “We had good fun running down . the furniture,’ Barthelmess ¢onfessed. “My wife did most of it but I went along whem she picked up some of the ‘bargains’.” He pointed to an oval, marble topped table in one corner. “We got that for ten dollars,” he recalled with evident satisfaction. “The clock there costs twelve. The maker wasn’t proud enough ot it to put his name on it but it runs and it has a loud tick. That’s what we hunted for, A clock with a loud tick. It’s cheerful, even if it doesn’t keep perfect time.” A white-washed fireplace and wide white mantle occupy twothirds of one living room wall. The mantle is the repository of many of the sentimental souvenirs which Barthelmess has gathered during his long career. There is the gun he earried in “ToV’able David,” a long old flintlock which he handles almost affectionately. There is the loud tick bal TE |member of the family, an old COlu nial lantern he picked up years ago in New England, and an ancient knocker, dated 1680 which will some day probably grace the door of this same house. About the room, interspersed with comfortable chinz covered couches and chairs, are delightful old ladder backs, pie-crust tables, a spinning wheel and niches filled with “milk glass,” one of the many things Mrs. Barthelmess is collecting. Everywhere there are flowers, — flowers in great clusters and in extravagant profusion. | Missus Loves Flowers | “Mrs. Barthelmess can’t stay in a room without flowers,” the actor confided. “Flowers are our greatest extravagance.” On the walls are three interesting Currier and Ives prints in their old fashioned and discolored frames, an oval» mirror that is old without being antique, curious and quaint prints, a board of knots, presented to Barthelmess by a sailor admirer and the wheel of the “Pegasus,” the Barthelmess boat. The boat has been sold, an economy measure undertaken months ago but before he parted with the vessel Barthelmess bought the new owner a new whee and took the old one, for sentimental reasons, to keep in his home. “Maybe you can get some idea of what we’re like by the house we live in,” Barthelmess, the _ sentimentalist, suggests. “Well, this is what we like. It’s the kind of place where you can grow a beard—and nobody objects. Besiaes I like a rest after going through the strenuous work of a picture like “Central Airport.” Mr. Barthelmess’ latest picture is a romance of an air pilot with spectacular and dare-devil stunts over land and sea. Sally Eilers is his leading lady while others in the east include Tom Brown, Glenda Farrell, Harold Huber, Grant Mitchell, James Murray, Claire MceDowell, Willard Robertson, Arthur Vinton and Charles Sellon, The picture is based on Jack Moffitt’s story “Hawk’s Mate” and was adapted by Rian James and James Seymour. William A. Wellman directed it.