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52
SCREENLAND
IT WAS one of those gorgeous, glittering, garish movie premieres. The reserves had been turned out to keep the frantic film fans in line — and within bounds. A great mob of movie-mad hero-worshippers milled 'round and 'round for a block on either side of the theatre entrance.
One by one, some of the most brilliant stars of the screen made their appearance, including the celebrities featured in the "super-special" that had just been shown for the first time. Each of them received a share of homage, and passed into the luxurious equipage tooled to the door by a liveried chauffeur.
But suddenly, police lines were broken. The crowd closed in on a tall, modest youngster, whose curly black hair clung to his brow in a perspiration of embarrassment. It wasn't his premiere — it wasn't his party — and he wanted the stars of the picture to get all the breaks.
No use. The cops were all King Canutes futilely commanding the waves of admirers to cease. There was a frantic struggle to see this idol. To touch him. To seize a button for a souvenir. To get an autograph. And long, loud cheers grew in volume until the whole street echoed with the cries.
"Buddy! Buddy! ! Buddy! ! !"
For the boy was "Buddy" Rogers, whom film-fans won't call "Charles," and he'd returned to his people like a king from exile. A very popular king, of course, and not one of those who recently has been abdicating by request of his "loyal" subjects.
®uddy
is a 5A{ow
Most girls like Buddy. But we didn't want a sob-sister's lament— we wanted the real low-down on him. So we sent a he-man on this interview, and the result is a swell, honest story you'll want to read!
By
Herbert Cruikshank
The best part of it was that right behind "America's Boy Friend," taking in the full significance of the enormous demonstration, was Jesse L. Lasky, himself. Mr. Lasky, you know, is Mr. Paramount — and Buddy's big boss. The executive grinned contentedly. Right then and there our Mr. Rogers was a star again.
Again ?
I hear you asking. Yes, again. For, believe it or not, the Bud was once demoted from the high eminence of stardom to the somewhat common ground of mere featured player. And that as much as anything is responsible for the fact that the boy has grown up. Of course, a year or two or three has winged away since the lad from Olathe, Kansas, won his spurs as the Lone Eagle of Paramount's school of acting. But the passage of time is not sufficient to account for the change. Buddy's still a boy at heart. But his head is a man's, stuck squarely on the level shoulders of a man.
I asked him about it. For Buddy and I are friends. Despite the fact he thought I made him appear "sappy" in a story written two years ago. Maybe I did. Maybe he was. But, be that as it may, I'm for the kid in a big way. We're friends. And I'm tickled that he's regained consciousness.
"It was pretty much of a kick in the trousers." he told me. "But ft was just what the doctor ordered. All