Screenland (Nov 1929-Apr 1930)

SCREENLAND On Location with Joan Crawford— Continued fro?n page 61 it so often that the script is never any help, and the script clerk must keep an account of every spoken word. A few feet away, a dozen or so cowboys squatted about an open fire rehearsing their songs. Benny Rubin led them. Then Joan's voice over the sound track sang the theme song. It sounded very beautiful there in the still air among the giant pines with the sky overhead flaming a thousand shades of scarlet and purple. "When the wind is sighin', In the big pine tree, Mornin' an' noon, What do they croon — " Yes, nature was very grand at Keen's Camp! Joan and I sat on a narrow ironbound case made for holding camera plates and listened to it all — Joan prompting Miss Morris in the words she couldn't catch. We went back to the cabin shivering a little and had a grand fire blazing when Doug came in. He was rubbing his nose a trifle thoughtfully, and with good reason as it turned out. "For five days, ever since we have been up here," he said laughing, "we have been playing football. Everyone not in the game was afraid we would get banged up, but not one of us got even a scratch. Tonight we start a simple game of baseball and in fifteen minutes I get a whang on the nose that makes it bleed for five minutes. Can you imagine that? It was nearly dark and we couldn't 'see the ball very well." After Joan had assured herself that the wounded member wasn't broken her mind turned to her own woes. "Nobody likes me, Dodo," she said, referring to the newspaper reviews scattered over the bed. Doug sat down on the edge of it. "I do," he said cheerfully. "Well, you're all that's necessary, darling," laughed Joan. Dinner was a lot of fun. Joan and Doug, Mai St. Clair, Johnny Mack Brown, Karl Dane, Benny Rubin, Cliff Edwards, Ralph and myself sat at one big square table. On the menu appeared "Rabbit a la Karl Dane." It seems that Karl and some of the boys had gone bunny hunting the night before and shot about a dozen which they presented to the hotel. And how they were cooked! Such meals! The best I have had at any restaurant in California. Cliff and Benny kept everyone convulsed by their impromptu gags. But they were the kind that have to be told with gestures. Words alone could not do justice to them. After dinner we were all glad to see the huge open fire in the hotel lobby. The fireplace was six feet wide and required two men to stagger under one of the logs for it. Six of these giants were blazing merrily when we filed out of the dining room. "Gosh, that fire's hotter than a Shubert revue," said Cliff Edwards edging away from it. "Well, that's not a bit too hot for me," said Joan shivering a little. I felt the same way about it so we both hugged the fire all evening. Joan had a good-sized wool rug which she was embroidering. And if you don't think Joan can embroider you ought to get a close-up of that rug. It was perfectly done. She has made several and loves to work on them. "Are we going to have our contest tonight?" asked Johnny Mack Brown. "Sure thing," said Mai St. Clair. "Cliff and Benny have to rehearse the cowboys but we can start and they can come when they are ready." The rehearsing was done in the center of the room, the whole hotel being turned over to the Montana company. Joan had to sing the theme song for them several times, which she did from her place by the fire. The game they were playing was flapper. It is played in this way. Put one foot before the other, heel touching toe, until five steps are measured from the chair in which the player is sitting. At the end of the five steps place a felt hat on the floor, bottom up. Then from the chair you throw, one by one, a deck of cards trying to get as many as you can into the hat. There is quite a trick to it, but this whole bunch were experts at it. Johnny Mack Brown won the first contest, tossing forty four into the hat, and I think Mai St. Clair won the second. We all turned in early. "Be sure and lay your fire before you go to bed," cautioned Joan. "Then all you have to do when you wake up is touch a match to it and get back to bed till the cabin is warm. You don't know what a help that is!" she said darkly. I thought if it was any colder in the morning than it was right at that moment I should never be able to live through it. The cabins were so cute and comfortable though, each with a bath and electric heating appliance that kept a supply of hot water always on hand. There were also plenty of pure wool blankets and a sheet iron stove — what more could one ask for? Next morning Benny Rubin insisted upon giving me one of his pancakes and some bacon until mine arrived. "I never ate such pancakes," he declared. "In the Brown Derby you get three heavy pancakes for four dollars. Up here you get ten light ones for five cents." And it didn't matter that he was exaggerating a bit — we all knew what he meant. They certainly were delicious — would melt in your mouth, and I'd like to know where they got their bacon. It was swell! I think they must grow it themselves. We had to climb a fence and cross a gully to get to the location nearly a quarter of a mile away, but the air was so wonderful you could have walked ten miles and not have minded. We passed a cow pasture with about five hundred head of cattle and I never saw anything cuter than those cows. They were all so interested and every one of them followed us with their eyes and seemed to be perfectly fascinated with our goings-on the whole of the day. They looked like a bunch of pansies as they stood there staring at us with their big brown eyes and sad faces. It was supposed to be a cowboy's camp under the pine trees and Johnny Mack Brown brings his bride, Joan, as a surprise to his gang. Benny Rubin plays a medicine man, Dr. Bloom, who was rescued from a desert death in a rickety old Ford by Cliff Edwards. And, of course, Benny is constantly getting into hot water. He just can't learn to be a regular cowboy. There seemed to be a conference going on among the principals and their director. "Look at the difference in my script, just overnight," declared Benny Rubin, referring to the changes in dialogue that came daily from the 'front office' of Metro Goldwyn Mayer. "Listen — 'The Doctor rides down the cliff, forcing horse on haunches to make it.' How do you like that? Right from the script I am reading it to you!" Benny shook his head. "You'd better tie yourself on, Benny," I laughed. "Tie myself on! I won't even get on," exploded Benny. "Me that's never even led a horse by the bridle. I should slide one down a cliff on his haunches!" And amid roars of laughter Benny scuttled off to rehearse the cowboys again. "What are we going to say in this scene?" Cliff wanted to know. "I introduce Benny to Johnny Mack and Joan. What do I say? 'This is Dr. Bronx from Bloomchitus. New York?' " "No, his name's Bloom. Dr. Bloom," said Karl Dane. "Well, I don't have to get it right." "Why don't you say, 'This is Dr. Bronchitus from Bloom, New York,' " said Mai. "No, that's no good," he added. "Well, anyway I can say, 'This is Dr. Bloom from Bronchitus, New York?' " And that's the way it stood in most of the scenes. I must confess that every scene was a little different, and in the rehearsals all of us were convulsed at some of the remarks. But when they came actually to take the scenes they tidied up the dialogue a little. The sun was so warm and the air so balmy that we all felt very lazy until Mr. St. Clair snapped us out of it. "Come on now, a little action," he said, as much to wake himself up as to get us started, I thought. With a tremendous effort Cliff Edwards pulled himself to his feet yawning. "I could stretch a mile, only I'd hate so to walk back," he complained. "Murder him, somebody!" shouted Karl Dane. "Hey, let my skinned elbow alone," he winced. Poor Karl is always getting banged up. He teases easily and the studic gang have a lot of fun with him, and he'd break himself to pieces on a dare. The bunch are always having to look out for Karl. "All set?" called Mr. St. Clair. "Wait a minute, Mai," cried Cliff Edwards coming back from his stretch and reaching for his cartridge belt. "Wait a minute. Ah has to get mah boom-boom on!" "Now, all you boys, when you hear Miss Crawford's voice, turn around and look toward the direction from which it comes. You never heard her before and you wonder who it is," Mai instructed them. Karl Dane was struggling with a monstrous chunk of tobacco which taxed the capacity of his jaws to the very limit. He had the look on his face of a small child who has taken too large a mouthful of candy — eyes sort of scared, as though he wondered whether he was going to make the grade without an accident. "And to think," one of the grips remarked slowly, "that if it hadn't been for his accomplishments with the weed, Karl Dane might never have become a motion picture actor!" The scene was supposed to be by moonlight but by camera tricks scenes taken in the sunlight look better than those taken at night. Poor Benny and Cliff were facing the east and having to look up at Johnny and Joan who were on horseback, the brilliant morning sun streamed full into their faces. Their eyes began to water and finally Benny gave up altogether and shaded his eyes with his hand. "What would you