Screenland (May-Oct 1931)

114 SCREENL AND What Chance Has a Second Coogan? Continued from page 27 have been lisping. His only companions were grown-ups — other stage people — who treated him more as an adult midget than a child. He was unbelievably smart. Even smart enough to cover up his sophistication in his picture roles. Technique. Acting was nothing new to him when he entered the movies at the more or less mature age of four. Hadn't he already spent half of his life on the stage? But when Robert was taken out of his backyard world and put on a motion picture set, everything was new to him. He hardly knew what a moving picture was, having viewed only four of them in his life. He was afraid at first. But he discovered that playing with other children and people is an altogether delightful experience. And that messing in plain mud, muck, and assorted goo is heavenly, after having to get along somehow for six years in an ultra-sanitary back yard where even the dirt was liable to be sterilized. It seems that orchids are fond of good rich loam. Robert has picked up an idea somewhere that children should govern their actions by the wishes of their elders. A rather quaint notion for these modern times. He is careful to conduct himself quietly in the presence of grown-ups, but at other times is a bundle of energy. He will answer your questions very seriously and deliberately. "The part I liked best about acting in the picture," he told me in his shy, yet precise way, "was the clothes I could wear, because they were very, very dirty and mostly holes. If I act in another picture I hope my clothes will be even much more dirtier and much more holier." He really didn't mean "acting." He meant "living," but he doesn't know there is a distinction between the two. He lived every moment of his part as Sooky. When they made the scenes in which he is crying for the dog — he actually believed Penny was going to die. After the completion of the picture, he couldn't understand why they wouldn't let him have the clog to keep. Didn't he and Skippy work hard to earn the three dollars for his license fee? It took three days to make the crying scenes. To coax the tears, they had to keep convincing Robert that Penny was going to expire at most any moment. The proverbial cat hasn't any more lives than that muchlamented canine. On the third day, when both kiddies were completely "cried out" but there still remained some scenes to be shot, Mr. Coogan said wearily, "Well, Robert, I'm awfully sorry to have to tell you this, but the dog is very sick and I think he's going to die again." There wasn't a tear left. Robert gave his father a most reproachful look and said, "Daddy, I'm ashamed to say it — but I don't believe you're telling me the truth. I just saw Penny five minutes ago and he never looked more friskier." The hardest scene was getting him to fight Jackie Searl. "I can't fight Jackie," he pleaded pitifully, "he's my friend. I like Jackie — I can't hit him !" This problem held up production until the director learned from the family that Robert can't stand to be called "Chicken." He instructed Jackie Searl to use the abhorrent epithet, and it worked like magic. Little Robert flew at him in a blind rage. After the scene was taken, they explained to him why it had been necessary to trick him. He ran to his friend, threw his arms around him, and wept on his neck. One day Mr. Coogan was sick (instead of Penny, for a change) and as Mrs. Coogan was in New York, Big Brother Jackie stayed on the set to help the director manage Robert. Perhaps in the hope of inciting him to greater histrionic achievements, Jackie told him he was a bum actor. The credulous little fellow took Brother at his word and promptly walked off the set, announcing to the astonished company that he had no future as an artist, so he meant to take up a useful trade without further waste of time. He was going to learn to be a cameraman right then and there! Daddy Coogan had to be called from his sick-bed to untangle that one. Need it be added that the incident abruptly terminated Jackie's career as an assistant director? Robert was evidently reconciled to his destiny as an actor, for when he had seen some of the rushes in the projection room and his father asked him what he thought of them, he replied very solemnly, "Daddy — I think I'm positively marvelous!" After the picture was finished, Norman Taurog, the director, sent Robert a mammoth battleship — about the only toy he didn't have, and one his heart had been aching for. He called up Mr. Taurog to thank him. "Uncle Norman — that is the most beautiful battleship God ever created," he said over the phone. "I think it is perfectly gorgeous, and I don't know how to thank you for it but there is something wrong with the propeller !" "Maybe you don't know how to wind it," the genial director suggested. "Oh, yes I do," he contradicted, "but it liasn't got any brakes!" I saw Robert after the preview of his picture the other night. Effusive women were covering his cheeks with their carmined congratulations. He had the most bewildered look — to see him was to wonder how long he can keep that quaint, ethereal charm under the wilting incandescents of Hollywood. Well, I suppose one can't go on being an orchid forever! Lew Ayres at home. Lew might be pulling a "Romeo and Juliet" except that "Juliet" isn't on the balcony with him. However, take note of the girl's picture on the cabinet — it's Lola Lane! Lew's next picture will be "Heaven on Earth."