Screenland (Nov 1938-Apr 1939)

Blown Br FAR be it from me to wail about the passing of the "good old days" of early motion pictures. But, just the same, when I first came to Hollywood, the place distinctly resembled the pictures I had seen of villages of the early West. Feathered and blanketed Indians were common sights on Hollywood Boulevard, and men in tengallon hats drove ornate cars at breakneck speed between Vine Street and Highland Avenue. Then they drove back. Sometimes you even saw a horse. The first time I went to Cocoanut Grove Tom Mix was there, wearing the famous white dinner clothes with the silver "T.M." over the breast pocket. That was the occasion I arrived just in time to see Tom catch a dignified matron in the revolving doors, and twirl her round and round. Prankish, these original cowboy stars ! When I had been here only a few days, my friend, J. P. McGowan, who has probably directed more Westerns than any other man in Hollywood, invited me to his apartment at lunch time for sandwiches and beer. He let me in, and I looked around. The place was a shambles. Chairs had been smashed, windows broken. Shattered glass littered the floor, and the chandelier had been torn out by the roots. "What the—?" I gasped. "Oh, that's nothing," said McGowan nonchalantly. "Sit on the floor. Had some Western stars in last night, and they got to arguing about who was the best actor, that's all ! Doesn't amount to anything." It occurred to me recently, with something of a jolt, that the chap and sombrero boys didn't appear to be brightening our lives with the same old verve. You scarcely ever see or hear of them in Hollywood today; yet exhibitors and producers will still tell you eagerly that the outdoor numbers are still the backbone of the industry. Children cry for them, and grown men applaud them. The Hays office never has to worry about them. The heroes are so noble, and the villains always get what all villains should get. I set myself to finding out where they are, and I found out. They're all over the place. But they don't haunt the Boulevard any more. They're all serious-minded business men. I found Gene Autry out at Republic Studios, having himself a shoe-shine. I suppose I should have said bootshine, for Gene's boots were wonderful to behold. They The spirit of the West that inspired such noble sculptures as Frederick Remington's "The Bronco Buster," left, flames for screen patrons in the manly figures and dashing personalities of Gene Autry, Bill Boyd, Buck Jones, Jack Holt, George O'Brien, whom you see in these closeups at right. Th ey re Still RidirV High Men of action off as well as on screen, the cowboys' glamor outlasts that of other Hollywood stars, yet there's nothing Hollywoodish about them By Dick Pine were red, inlaid with green, or vice versa. He put out a large hand and grasped mine. "Be with you in a minute, and we'll go and have some chili and beans !" I stood by, while the negro artist was finishing his work. Autry looked a most friendly guy. I liked him at sight. Personally, I couldn't imagine this singing cowboy squabbling with anybody about anything, even though I already knew that he had conducted a profitable squabble with his studio for more money. Well, he's been box office tops in his field for a couple of years ; so why not ? His drawl is amiable, his chuckle infectious. Before he stepped down from the shoe-shine seat he expertly rolled a cigarette, and invited me "inside" to chili and beans. Over two of the most prodigious chili and bean bowls I've ever seen, Gene told me about himself. He never was a real cowboy, it seems. His father was an Oklahoma preacher who did a bit of horse trading on the side. Gene learned to ride when he was young, and found, at about the same time, that it was pleasant to lift his quavering young voice in song. He drifted into pictures by a casual route which included a job as telegraph operator, a session with a traveling medicine show, and some few and far between radio engagements. When he found himself in Hollywood, wearing that town's idea of the perfect cowboy outfit, equipped with horse, guitar, and contract, he felt that he was home at last. He took 70