Screenland (May-Oct 1931)

106 SCREEN LAN ers; and to Leonard Sillman, Airs. Reginald Denny — the first one — J. Grendon and his wife, Viola Brothers Shore, and others. Supper was served, and there was a lot of amusing gossip passed about. Ronald Colman, we learned, is crazy about anagrams ; and Ann Harding has a cigarette holder that is exactly like a little meerschaum pipe. After supper, coffee was served as a novelty in big vodka glasses that were like young gold-fish bowls. Drinkers of vodka, we learned, sometimes inhaled it, and the same was done with benedictine, irom these glasses. You put a little liquor in it, hold the glass in your hands until it becomes warm, then shake the liquor about, put your face down to the glass, and breathe the fumes. It is said to be as intoxicating as drinking the stuff. Neil Hamilton told us how Eddie Phillips got his start in pictures, when he won a part in "Rosita." "It was back in New York," Neil said, "and Eddie and I were friends. Eddie was pining for a chance to come to California. He heard that Mary Pickford was looking for a foreigner to play in 'Rosita," and he said he was just dying to play the role. I didn't think he'd get it, for he is as New Yorky as Times Square. But next day he came to me all aglow, and so excited he could hardly talk. 'I've got the part!' he cried. 'I'm going to Hollywood with Mary Pickford !' "It seemed Eddie had pretended that he was an immigrant just off a boat from Europe, and couldn't even speak English at all well. He had spent half a day listening to some Italians to learn their dialect. He had put on a dark make-up and had slept in his clothes to make the garments look sufficiently unkempt, and at that they were pretty well worn anyhow. "Mary was deceived and signed him. But on the way to California there were other foreigners going out for the picture, and as he didn't know a word of Italian or Spanish, he was in fear and trembling that somebody would find him out and tell Mary. He went to Mary and confessed, and she laughed and forgave him. So he won the part anyway, and came to California, where he was duly launched on his picture career." There were games and dancing down in the party den after dinner, and some of the guests went down there, while others remained above for bridge. We did hope, we told Mrs. Hamilton and Neil when we left, that our hostess would think up another reason for a party. Cry, Baby! — Continued from page 20 amazing success of the Watson family as juvenile actors and actresses is to be found in the philosophy of Coye, the father, and in the patience of Mrs. Watson, the mother. "We make it play, this picture work," Coye Watson will tell you. "Suppose little Delmar has been chosen for a part in some picture. I get a copy of the script, take it home, and have a couple or three of the older children learn the various 'sides' in his particular scene. They play it just as I feel the director will have it played. First Billy will go through Delmar's part. Then Harry. Then one of the girls will try it. Delmar sits and watches. When it comes his turn he has the advantage of observation and study. Young as he is, he feels the spur of competition, and tries to do it better than the rest. The result is to make him feel as if he is playing a game, and lie learns each line and bit of action perfectly. "We work along the same idea when we come home at night from the studio. During filming of 'We Three' I'll spend all of my time on the set with Delmar. If 1 take him home at night and tell the rest of the family that he's been a fine boy, all will congratulate and praise him. If he's been naughty, or missed any of his lines, the rest of the youngsters put him on the pan and kid him. The system brings results." Watson, the elder, started training his children for the screen as fast as they appeared. In this Mrs. Watson played no small part. Obedience was the first law they had to learn. After that the rest was easy. Directors like to work with the Watson children. John Adolfi, directing "We Three," believes that little Delmar is one of the brightest youngsters he ever has seen. "1 get results from him I wouldn't expect to get from a child ten years older," Adolfi says. "The baby is absolutely natural in everything he does. I get no suggestion of acting from his work. Uncle uibtedly this is the result of the home training, the spirit of play, that enters into the immediate training of the child." During those long waits between scenes, when the other actors are at work and Delmar is free for the time, the father sees to it that his talented four-year-old continues in the mood of play that makes his work a pleasure. They report on the set in the morning, loaded down with a big satchel from which, at intervals during the day, various toys and games are produced : marbles, guns, balls, toy soldiers, and so on. Also, there is a package of arrowroot biscuits, fine to nibble on when the stomach begins to distract the young mind. Coye Watson knows how to get along with youngsters. He's had. as you might say, ample opportunity. He is bound, some day, to have a famous screen star in his family. The law of averages should enter to take care of that. The chances are just eight to one that it will be Delmar. His work in "We Three" seems to indicate it. At any rate, Delmar is at the ideal age and is breaking in at the right time — what with Jackie Cooper, Bobby Coogan and Jackie Searl just as popular as any grownup actors. The public always did like youngsters in pictures but right now they seem to be more "kiddie conscious" than ever before. Anyway, keep your eye on Delmar — he's a comer ! Little Delmar Watson gets paid for crying out loud! This is a scene from "We Three" with Rose Hobart, kneeling, and that's director John Adolfi with his hand raised.