Screenland (May-Oct 1928)

96 BEST SELLERS For $1.00 Each WHEN the dreary day is done, and you head your tired body homeward, you dread the thoughts of facing the evening. You know that your library, originally small, has been sadly depleted, and you have read every book of interest it holds. What greater feeling then, than to think of the new books you have just ordered. The latest brainchild of your favorite author, and others you have often wished to read. After dinner, comfortably enconsed in your big easy-chair, you spend what develops into one of the most pleasant evenings you've ever had. Then you realize that you were glad you did not pass up the advertisement offering this marvelous collection of the most popular novels of the day at the extraordinarily low price of $1.00 each. A special offer of six of any of the titles listed below may be purchased for Five Dollars The Golden Beast.. ..E. Phillips Oppenheim The Enemies of Women, Vincente Blasco Ibanez D'Arblay Mystery E. Austin Freeman Mine With the Iron Door, Harold Bell Wright Bella Donna Robert Hickens The Desert Healer E. M. Hull Big Brother Rex Beach Face Cards Carolyn Wells The Flaming Jewel.. .Robert W. Chambers The Night Riders... Rigwell Cullum A Poor Wise Man.. Mary Roberts Rinehart The Poisoned Paradise.. ..Robert W. Service Yellow Shadows Sax Rohmer When a Man's a Man..HaroId Bell Wright The Pearl Thief Bertha Ruck The High Adventure Jeffery Farnol Fire Brain Max Brand Child of the Wild Edison Marshall On the Rustler Trail, Robert Ames Bennett The Celestial City Baroness Orczy The Purple Mist Gladys Edson Locke Horseshoe Robinson John P. Kennedy AND HUNDREDS OF OTHERS -*= 4 Published by A. L. BURT GO. Write and Tell Us What Boole You Want. It May Not Be Listed Here But We Can Get it for You and Save You Money. SCREENLAND, Dept. 9-28. 49 West 45th St., New York City. I enclose $ for which please send me postpaid. Name Address City State SCREENLAND Grace Kingsley's Gossip — continued from page 23 intended, he said, to come as an Italian organ grinder with a monkey, but the monk had been rented out at the last minute. We heard a fearful commotion, and in entered May Robson. She was dressed as a Hungarian peasant, and she wouldn't speak to anybody, but gazed suspiciously about at everybody, just as any foreign immigrant just arrived on Ellis Island would do. But when she caught sight of Edmund Breese and his kilties she couldn't refrain from telling about the Scotchman who took his wife's spats to the shoe' maker to be soled and heeled. Kenneth Thompson arrived just then with his bride of a few days. She is a tall, pretty, blonde girl, who was formerly an actress in New York, her name Alden Gay. Kenneth was dressed as a Dutch immigrant, and his wife was an American emigrant to California in 1890, she said. Gladys Brockwell was a Roumanian peasant girl, very picturesque, with bright kerchief turban, wide, short silk skirt and broad sash. She said she guessed she was a musical comedy Roumanian! "In fact," confided Patsy, "nearly all the costumes are silk — just a poor lot of immigrants, my word! Movie people's ideas of immigrants!" Enter William DeMille, clad in red Russian boots and peasant trousers, together with one of those black satin Russian blouses .so much effected by gentlemen these days at informal dinners. He declared that he was a "Russian peasant in an Emil Jannings sort of way!" Supper was buffet, after which Edmund Breese, Gladys Brockwell and some others took part in a couple of comic impromptu sketches, and then Bob Edeson fetched out an accordion, and much to our surprise began to play. But his wife gave it away. It was a trick accordion, with selfmade music unrolled from records. Finally our host called us together and read the answers to the immigrant questionairres he had sent to us. They were very amusing. May Robson won a prize for the best costume, and it turned out to be a box of salami — Italian sausage. "And I hear," says Patsy, looking over my shoulder as I write, "that Miss Robson's tea was so crowded next day that she ran out of food, and so her guests ate up the prise!" If ever you want to .see a beautiful spot, don't fail to visit Santa Monica Canyon, if you chance to be in Southern California. It was down there, at the Uplifters' Club grounds, that Agnes Christine Johnston was giving, the other Sunday evening, her party for Norma Shearer and Irving Thalberg, bride and groom, and for Sylvia Thalberg, Irving's sister, and her bridegroom, Larry Weingarten, who makes pictures for Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. Agnes and her husband, Frank Dazey, are living in a cottage at the Uplifters since their house burned down, and we found them with a lot of guests already assembled in the vast living-room, including Sylvia and Larry, but Norma and Irving were to be late, because as usual Irving had a conference on hand. Johnny Hines told us that he had been working on a boat off San Pedro, making scenes f( r a picture, and that everybody had been seasick but himself, whereat somebody reminded him that he was Scotch! That in turn reminded Johnny that a good way to keep a Scotchman from being seasick is to tie his hands and put a quarter in his mouth! Gertrude and Bob Leonard breezed in just then, Gertrude looking awfully cute and pretty, and they were presently joined by Jack Conway and his beautiful young wife, who you remember, is a daughter of Francis X. Bushman. Kathryn McGuire came with her husband, George Landy, and Dorothy Sebastian arrived with Clarence Brown, the director, whom she is soon to marry. Indeed, she may have married him by the time this is printed, as I understand the wedding is to be soon. She was once supposed to be engaged to Raymond Griffith, but Raymond, I think, never quite forgot Bertha Mann, the stage actress, whom he had known for many years, and Ray and Bertha finally were married and went to Europe on a prolonged honeymoon. However, Dorothy appeared quite consoled as she danced that evening with Clarence to the music of the radio. Carmel Myers was there, too, and dancing with Johnny Hines and other partners, and there were a lot of other guests. Dinner was served in the patio of the Club House under the trees at long tables, after which we came back to the Dazeys' cottage, where a Hawaiian orchestra was playing, to the music of which you danced if you wished, or if you felt like playing cards, there was a card-room, and for original diversion there was a funny little game of miniature yacht racing, with tiny yachts running on a long piece of green oilcloth to represent water. Gertrude played that to good effect, her yacht always managing to come in ahead of every body else's, though Sylvia's boats were in luck, too. Norma Shearer and Irving Thalberg came very late, Norma full of her trip to Europe and looking sweet in a green, sheer dress which she had bought in Paris. "I really didn't intend to shop in Paris," said Norma, "because I intended to go about with Irving all the time; but he insisted, so what could I do?" "Very gallant I call it," replied Patsy. We asked Norma about the sights she saw, and she answered drolly. "Oh, a lot of night clubs, and I don't know the names of any of them." Gertrude Olmstead joined our little group, and told us how she has been working in a number of pictures, one after the other, so hard and so fast that she hasn't had any chance to rest, so that she guessed she was growing very irritable. "But I've learned to say 'Go to the hot place' in Swedish — which nobody understands— so now I can safely blow off steam without making anybody mad," she explained. We were sitting about the fire, the evening being cool, and Mrs. Jack Conway joined us to tell us about her infant son's being named Mike, and how very cross it had made her extremely handsome and aristocratic dad, Francis X. Bushman, to have his grandson, who resembles him, named such a rude, ordinary name! "Oh, dear," sighed Patsy finally, "I suppose we just must go home!" "I don't believe there's any other place open " I acquiesced. Little Ethel Jackson, a sweet youngster of seventeen who is making her way in pictures, gave such a delightful party down