Screenland (Apr–Sept 1923)

82 SCREENLAND C An Extra Girl Tells You the Truth About Hollywood — Continued from page 60 on the set not so well known to "the Gang," but on to all the Club tricks, caught the lace of my borrowed creation on her beads, giving it a most unmerciful tear. My crest drooped. She turned to me and in a loud voice asked, "To whom shall I apologize for tearing the dress you have on ?" If Ann Hathaway had lived at the Studio Club, she would never have allowed Bill Shakespere to write those immortal words: "Neither a borrower nor lender be, for loaning loses both itself and friend, and borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry." But extra girls in Hollywood wouldn't be able to work half the time, if it wasn't for their friends' borrowed clothes, and the Club has an understanding of true generosity that no words can really describe. Once, three of us got a job on the same sweater, and no one knew about it till the next morning. One of the studios needed three girls in sports clothes for a bit. Lois Lee owned a good looking black and white sweater. Mack Sennett's studio called her. She had worn her sweater and sports outfit there before. Director on the wire: "Miss Lee, a nice bit for you. Six days at a Country Club. Report tomorrow at eight-thirty in your black and white sport suit." "Six days !" Lois was elated. Ethel was called by an agency. "Be at Mack Sennett's tomorrow at eight-thirty. Six days. Have you a nice sport suit?" Ethel mentally ransacked the collective wardrobe of the Club, her heart pounding. Yes, there was Lois' black and white sweater. "Yes," she shouted joyously through the telephone, "I have a really smart one." "O-K." I myself knew the Assistant Director at Sennetts, and ambled in that day to see if there was anything doing. "Have you a stunning sport suit?" he asked. Lois' being the only good looking one in the house, and knowing with the certainty of death, fhat she would lend it to me, I answered glibly, "Yes indeed, I have a beauty!" "All right," he replied, "be on the set at eight-thirty. Six days work." I was jubilant. We went out to dinner and went "stepping" that night, so didn't compare jobs. Next morning at seven-thirty, the three of us dove into the closet of the "Sanctum" for the coveted sweater at the same moment. We found that Pat had taken it the day before to wear Fool's Gold on a week-end party at Coronado ! Our lives are by no means all thrills, however. There are the quaint kicks of having to pay more for the rented gown for one day's set than you can earn in a month, just because an obliging comedian among the extra men spills lemonade liberally all over your lap. There is the joy of having your best tooth knocked out in a mob fight, and your only pair of silk stockings ruined by contact with a field of burrs. You may thrill at riding horseback all day in the sun, but at night the girls will assure you, quite candidly, that your beautiful henna-dyed hair has been burned to a curious cross between magenta and cerise. The thrill on Monday of your first written contract, will send you to the stars, but on Tuesday you will be back on earth again, facing the cold hard fact that you are sitting on the curb stone leaning for support against a telephone pole. The company who promised you a lead at a hundred and fifty a week at nine a. m. went into bankruptcy at ten, and your landlord put you out at eleven. With what speed do events move in Hollywood, and with what fortitude does one learn to sustain shocks ! Castor-Oil Decoration Day \\r 192Z W hen kiddies spend Decoration Day playing at the beach, their mothers usually have to put them to bed early, and pour a dose of castor-oil down their little throats so they can survive their intimacy with the ice-cream-coneman. The extra girls who worked in a Viola Dana picture one Decoration Day at the beach craved to be treated just like the kiddies, except that they begged that the castor-oil be poured into their eyes instead of down their throats. It was this way: we had been called to Santa Monica at seven-thirty a. m. Tourists from the east must have envied us that day. Free as the white gulls, we gaily pranced and skipped and ran and leaped, our bodies gleaming in the sun. The day was hot; one of the scorching, blazing days that drive one either to shade or into the cool sea. We were stockingless, hatless, sleeveless. In fact, our little onepiece bathing suits were rivaled in briefness only by the reported costumes of Solomon's Concubines. At first, it was sheer fun, but the fierce old sun's rays soon proved merciless. How we longed to dip into that heavenly blue coolness at our feet. But alas, the drops of water that hit us were few and far between. Only our pink toes and scarlet, sun-scorched legs occasionally got dampened. But as the blistering day wore on, most of the shots were of us lying on the beach, or flapping about as only the proverbial "Film Flappers" can flap. I paraphrased the Ancient Mariner thus: 'Water, water, everywhere, And not a place to sink !" The burning sands beneath us were as nothing to the burning, glaring monster above us. My eyes began to feel as if they were on fire, for not content with the mere sun, they used huge mirror reflectors that caught the full glory of the sun and threw it back into our faces. At four p. m. I sneaked off the set; a thing I've never done before, and never expect to do again. But I had to this time, because my head felt as though in another minute it would burst and what little brains I possess would be scattered on the waters of the Pacific. I slipped into my dress, and must have looked so queer and ill, that a crowd of home-going bathers offered me a lift into Hollywood. I accepted, more thankful for the cool wind fanning my face and eyes than for anything in my whole life. Strange how the gifts the world values, RollsRoyces, and diamond tiaras, and sunburst pendants, and platinum rings, all fade into insignificance before the simple gift of a cool wind ! When I reached the Club, the telephone was ringing. It was a call for me from Brunton's to go over in an hour in evening dress and wraps for a ten dollar check. Now I was back to the wall financially that day, and although I held my seven-fifty pay check in my hand, yet by this time, I had resolved either to tell the director of the Viola Dana picture how badly I felt, or not to cash the check. (I've since learned they worked only five minutes after I left.) Anyhow, I decided I'd better accept the call for Brunton's; I really couldn't afford to pass it up. That proved to be the easiest ten dollars I ever expect to earn. Four of us, two men, and two girls, got into a stunning Fiat car, drove around a driveway, got out of the car, and went into a house. We repeated this childlike performance twice. They gave us our ten checks and dismissed us. Thp amazing dis (Continued on page