Screenland (Sept 1922–Feb 1923)

Violets And Valentino H, The Fragile Amethist Blooms Fit the Aura of the Great Lover, Decides HAZEL S C H T R U M P F _E DWELLS in a beautiful mansion on the top of yon hill — Rudy Valentino — our own Rudy. It does not look like other mansions, somehow. There is an aura around it ! An aura of violet, mystic, colorful. I was to meet Rudy today. Oh, how my heart did beat! Just like the wild bird beating against its cage — or the bill collector beating on the door ! Approaching the shrine timidly, I entered to find myself in a large Chinese room with gold doors, furnished chastely with an ebony chair, lounge, an altar and a bowl of goldfish. Even the goldfish were solid gold. On the altar was a picture of Rudy — our Rudy — with candles burning before it ! An incense burner sent up clouds of incense. I heard the sound of approaching footsteps. One of the gold doors opened. Ah-, sure enough, 'tis he, Rudy — our Rudy — who stands before me. He comes toward me — stepping first on one foot and then on the other! Oh, it was thrilling! Rudy — our Rudy — wore a crashed violet Mandarin suit embroidered in that new art shade of subdued cobblestones. As he came lilting toward me, Rudy, our Rudy — the purple lights reeled. They reeled for nearly a whole reel. He smiled his slow, "built-in, $5,000-a-film-foot smile at me. Extravagant boy ! His ebony eyes glowed with a golden light — to match the furniture ! They had a look in them. He had just finished his exercise with his goldfish and was panting a little. He lit a cigarette. "Rude little things," he said — yet there was a note of fondness in his voice, — "they chased me all over the pond. Still of course a little heavy exercise is good for me. And fish will be fish!" He reached for the violet perfume atomizer. It is characteristic of Rudy to be indulgent. "Perhaps you noticed the altar," Rudy's eyes gleamed with a golden light . . . they had a look in them! said Rudy, lighting another cigarette. "The work of my man — he will do it, you know !" Just then a candle on the altar went out, and Rudy looked annoyed. "Rudy, oh, Rudy!" I exclaimed, "why did you leave us so cruelly?" "Ah," he said, lighting another cigarette, "those words are gratifying. If the fans did not love me I would die, and then — " he paused for a moment's stern reflection, while the emotion deepened in his eyes, — "and then I would be dead." The clear, cool logic of the man amazed me. "You are going to work soon?" I asked him. "Work?" said Rudy, his face blanching at the word. Then he went on : "The sheik — they wouldn't let me play the sheik as I wanted to ! I wanted to play the sheik rough — gawd, how rough!" cried our Rudy, inhaling a violet, "Oh, how rough I would have made the sheik! I would have made him throw the heroine around so hard he broke things with her. I would have made him slay his enemies, then stick the scissors into them, open them out and twist them around! I would have—" Just then Rudy rose hurriedly from his chaise lounge, with an annoyed air. He took something up and tossed it away. Rudy — our Rudy — had been sitting on a crumpled roseleaf ! How these things annoy the sensitive soul of an artist! How about Blood and Sand? I asked, to take his mind off his troubles. But he only looked more soulfully sad. "Oh, they were awful about that, too," he whispered, "I wanted to fight the bull— oh, how I longed to brave him in the arena! But, alas, they wouldn't let me. I'll tell you one of their secrets." Rudy lowered his voice to a hiss. "They let Bull Montana hold the bull's tail while I fought him!" Rudy sobbed. Then he made a manful effort at controlling his emotion. "You have heard of my deep trouble with Lasky, of course?" he asked, lighting another cigarette. "Never a violet in my dressing room ! And not even a chaise (Continued on page 101.) 17