Screenland (May–Oct 1927)

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Now Catalina Island is a pleasure resort shines everything is hotsy-totsy. But the sun had refused to shine. "The extras," said Robertson, "thought they were coming on a pleasure trip. They brought evening clothes along." I and on the sunny day that the trip was blushed, for this hit me. too, and I thought proposed it seemed as if it might be thrilling, but upon the morning that we shoved off from San Pedro for the island in a little speed boat appropriately named "The Bear Cat", the rain came down in blankets — sheets being too comfortable and cool a word to apply to that cloudburst. More than that it had rained for two days prior the harbor of the isthmus, to the trip. This vessel deserves a paragraph all to The least said about the roughness of the itself. It is an Alascan sail boat, 57 years sea going over and those facetious ones on old, a four rigger with a history. (Don't the speed boat who insisted upon quoting get excited, I'm not going to recount its "Roll on thou deep and dark blue ocean", biography). It is anchored at the isthmus of my own dinner frock reposing in the valise. Rain, rain, rain and each drop of it costing the company dollars, for they must remain until the exteriors could be taken. We weathered the storm once more to go aboard the "Santa Clara", anchored in the better. We arrived — not at Avalon, the pleasure resort town on the island, but at the isthmus many, miles away, where the company was supposed to be working. Sets had been erected on the wharf and a few rain soaked buildings and many tents were all that we could see. A car took us up to the Banning house — the former residence of a wealthy Los Angeles' family, where the principals were housed. Wet, bedrabbled, ill tempered, we were led into the living room where, God bless you my children, a cheerful open fire burned on the hearth. At first nothing occupied our atention but the taking off of our wet shoes and coats, but we were not to tarry over this long because the occupants of the room bore down upon us with a thousand questions. There was Pauline Starke. Marceline Day, Lars Hanson and wife, George Fawcett, Ernest Torrence, Eugenie Besserer, Josephine Lovett (wife of John Robertson, who writes the director's scripts) Sam De Grasse and others. There is nothing so pitiful as actors who have nothing to act and for two whole days the company had been imprisoned in the Banning house on account of the rain. Their eagerness for outside news and acting was enormous in consequence. Pretty little Marceline Day, incongruously attired in a lounging robe of Chinese design and a tweed sports coat, carried us off to her room. "You're stopping here tonight?" she asked hopefully. I proundly announced that we had reservations at the St. Catherine, the very, large, very grand hotel at Avalon. Pauline Starke from the next room overheard me. She passed out completely. . . Eight. . . Nine . . . Ten. As she came to I think I heard her mumbling incoherent nothings that had to do with steam heat, hot baths, real dinners. "But a location trip is supposed to be fun,,v I said in my innocent manner. "Fun?" said Marceline. "My dear the water pipes up here have gone on the bum. All we have is what we get out of buckets. There is no heat except the fireplace in the living room and the stove in the kitchen. And we didn't do a tap of work all day yesterday." A few minutes later, at luncheon, John Robertson, director of "Tol'able David", "Shore Leave" and "Annie Laurie", elaborated upon this. It appears that all location trips are not like this one. When the sun for a purpose, for when the company finishes the work on shore sixty-five of them are to set sail and will not touch land for ten days! Now that's a location trip for you! All during that time scenes will be taken on the deck. Captain Bill Collins, the skipper, was a grave disappointment. There's not a casting director in Hollywood who would give him a job as a sea faring man. I should say that he is not more than thirty-three or thirty-four. He wears no beard, does not chew tobacco and although I listened closely I didn't hear him say "By Gar" once. The crew — who are, by the way mostly Scandinavian, much to the delight of Lars Hanson — semed to resent the fact that land lubbers were invading the sacred precincts of the "Santa Clara". Half heartedly they white-washed the captain's cabin, making it ready for Pauline Starke — a woman, mind you, on a seaworthy four rigger! We came up on deck and the miracle occurred! I wonder if I can paint for you the scene that took place. Nothing more dramatic will ever be filmed. While we were below^ the rain had stopped and just as we came up on deck the glowering clouds parted and the sun literally burst out. A second before the isthmus had been clothed in gloom. Not a soul was to to be seen. But at the appearance of the sun the place seethed with activity. The whole world blazed with glittering light. John Robertson — he is a powerful man, and very tall — seemed to burst out of the little studio by the wharf, followed pellmell by the company. The extras — 160 of them — poured out of their tents. Camera men ran toward the wharf with their cameras across their shoulders. Suddenly all of them stopped short and looked at the sun. We were too far away to see their faces, but we could feel the atmosphere. I would not have been surprised if they had all dropped on their knees and sung a Te Dcum. Three days marooned by the rain! Three disheartening, inactive chill days! And now the sun! Work! Activity! Warmth! A chance to finish up and get back home to civilization! Although they sang no Te Deum I'm sure that there was one in the heart of each one. We hurried off the Santa Clara but before we had gotten there Robertson, in his little red knitted hockey cap, was working like a fiend and the cameras were grinding on the sunshine. In brief, the story of "Captain Salvation" , concerns a sea faring minister, played by Lars Hanson, who in spite of the fact that