Screenland (Nov 1935-Apr 1936)

66 The 2 Influences in Her Life SCREENLAND Continued from page 26 I went to Paramount to get an interview with Gladys Swarthout I was accompanied by the usual fear and trembling, the usual despair. I reflected that she was a great opera star — had been one before Hollywood caught up with her. What was even worse, she was not working in just one picture. She was struggling along in two. For she had already started work on "Give Us This Night" with Jan Kiepura when Paramount decided to make some added scenes for "Rose of the Rancho." All in all, the chances for an interview seemed remote. Before I knew what was happening I was out on Stage 10. I was talking to Gladys Swarthout. I was busy making the discovery that the great can also be gracious ! When I had entered the stage it was just in time to find this dark-eyed diva ready to start a scene. Seated on a magnificent white horse and garbed in the black trappings of Don Carlos, the bandit, she was about to tell her vaqueros in turbulent song that they would ride that night. Yes, her movie career is further complicated at the moment by the fact that she has to perform a double chore in "Rose of the Rancho." Most of the time she is the languorous, be-shawled Rosita, but some of the time she must masquerade as Don Carlos, the bandit leader. This happened to be one of those times. During the action of the scene I saw her eyes stray occasionally to a figure encased in brown tweeds standing on the side lines. This was Frank Chapman, husband of Gladys Swarthout and Influence Number One in her private and public careers at this writing. Very much like an animated metronome, he swayed violently in time to the lusty melody that she was singing. He used his smouldering pipe as a baton. While she sang for the camera he sang silently for her, helping her with the tempo of the number. The scene ended, the Swarthout eyes so eloquently shadowy returned to Frank seeking his reaction. He smiled, nodded, stuck his pipe back in his mouth. Such a ritual is -"a familiar sight on any set where the Swarthout is at work. She relies on her husband for advice and criticism. And he, in order to help her with her new career, the movies, has put his own work aside temporarily. He, too, is a concert and opera singer and has had offers of his own for picture work. If I had entertained any thought that Gladys Swarthout might not be quite sure of her identity as a result of being involved in two pictures and three parts all at the same time, I abandoned the idea as soon as I met her. She knows exactly who she is and what she is doing. Her every movement, her slightest gesture is as definite as it is graceful. Her ready, flashing smile is warm enough to thaw the jaded, chilly soul of any studio gate man. Incidentally, when she shakes your hand she means it. Her grip is as firm and muscular as that of a professional tennis queen. As I watched her refurbish her make-up with a sure, practical touch it occurred to me that here was a person who would give compact information in answer to a direct query. When she looked up from her make-up box I was therefore prepared. "Screenland wants to know all about the two influences that have helped you along with your career," I blurted. She leaned forward eagerly in her canvas chair. Pier eyes grew even darker with the seriousness of the thought about to be expressed. After a moment's concentration she said, "Yes, there have been two influences. First it was my sister, then my husband — now, of course, it is first my husband, then my sister. They are two of the most generous, self-sacrificing people in all the world !" Her glance traveled up to the athletic form of Frank Chapman. He was now standing on top of a "prop" rock talking with the director and gesticulating with his pipe. A Princeton graduate. An athlete. The possessor of a solid, definite personality. No one is likely to call him Mr. Swarthout — and get away with it ! But he deserves still further mention. Not only is he an outstanding baritone; he is also outstanding as a chewer-upper of pipe stems. He chews his way through them as easily and as speedily as a beaver might gnaw through an oak. The slight pause occasioned by the upward glance of my interviewee ended. She continued in her throaty, modulated voice : "Indeed I don't know what I should have done in these hectic months out here in Hollywood without Frank. This seems such a mad place ! Ever since I've been here I've felt as if I were on a flying trapeze, and sadly lacking in the sustaining poise and assurance of that young man of the song ! Without Frank I should certainly have lost my hold and gone spinning off into space. "Why, I can't understand all these stories about the incompatibility of marriage and career in Hollywood ! It seems to me that marriage is most necessary. A husband can be such a marvelous guide, Time: moonlight; Place: Monte Carlo; Girl: Joan Bennett. No wonder Ronald Colman puts such feeling into this scene above! such a balance wheel in his wife's career. Here, more than anywhere, I have felt the need of honest guidance, critical support. And from a husband reliably sincere, dependably frank. No," she added with a quick smile, "that isn't a pun. That's a fact. Frank is just that! "In my case I've been doubly fortunate. For I've had the help of two people who are 'just that.' Sometimes when I'm singing here on these sets and trying to keep one eye on Frank to see whether I'm holding the right tempo I remember the many, many times when my sister used to help me in just the same way. Then I was a little girl and trying Very hard to interpret correctly my andantes, allegrettos, and allegros. And dreaming dreams, of course ! Incidentally, they didn't include anything so astonishing as all this ! Well, it's due largely to my sister's devotion, encouragement, and self-sacrifice that those dreams have come true. She — " Whatever it was, she couldn't finish. She had spied an assistant director searching her out to summon her back to the cameras. You see, those large, dusky eyes of hers are both ornamental and very useful. They never miss a trick. She smiled an apology for leaving but assured me that she would return as she rose to the full extent of her five feet four. With a technique that contrasted oddly with her essential feminine daintiness she took a hitch in her trousers and swung the huge black sombrero on her head. Before anyone could scramble to her assistance she had lifted herself effortlessly into her silver-mounted saddle. As I noted the deft eloquence of her movements it seemed to me that here was a natural, an instinctive showman. That is the quality in Gladys Swarthout which — even when they were children and hardly thinking of the future at all — her sister, Roma, must have recognized and felt compelled to nourish. Anyway, nourish it she did. For it was Roma who set the foundation for Gladys' career at the sacrifice of her own. Roma was studying music when it was discovered that Gladys, three years younger, had what the teacher termed an "extraordinary voice." Immediately the elder sister discarded all thought of a musical career of her own and devoted herself to the task of helping and encouraging Gladys. "No one has ever had a sister like Roma —at least, that's what I think. More than a sister, she was really my inspired guide." Gladys' expression was serious. Her eyes were sober as if she were seeing again the scenes of the past which inspired these sentiments. Yes, she had returned to her haven behind the "prop" rock and had resumed our conversation as if it had never been interrupted. "Roma was always so marvelouslv helpful, so patient, so considerate. When it was decided that I should study voice she immediately set out to teach me what she had learned of the piano. Being three years older than I, she was already quite advanced. Later when I was further along she studied voice too. She worked terribly hard, but not for herself. It was always with the idea of helping me. Sometimes it seemed to me that she actually put more thought and effort into my career than I did myself. "And right here I'll have to admit that I do adore a good time ! I always have. And I used to spend a lot of time thinking about the fun I was going to have at that dance next week, or planning some means