Silver Screen (Nov 1930-Oct 1931)

70 Silver Screen for October 1931 Madge Evans [Continued from page 35] .and here's another thing YOUR BEST FRIENDS WON'T TELL YOU! In order not to hurt your feelings, they say your gray hair is "distinguished." What a mockery ! Gray hair is the symbol of heartbreak age, the secret sorrow of every woman foolish enough to ignore NOTOX. Here is the scientifically correct tinting method for gray hair. NOTOX re-colors your hair a decidedly neiv way. Instead of crusting the hair with a surface plate of dye, as do old-fashioned "clear white restorers," NOTOX penetrates the hair and colors it inside the shaft. No "^/ye;/," artificial look. And your hair remains as fine, lustrous and supple as ever. You can wash, wave and sun NOTOXED hair without affecting its permanence and naturalness. The finest hairdressers and beauty shops apply NOTOX. Resent a substitute — a like product does not exist. Buy it for home use at smart shops everywhere. 0T03i MADE BYINICTO Arc. 33 W. A&'rSJ. NEW YOR,i^ Rewards HOW I TO WORK 1 WONDERS WITH WORDS If you are interested— — to develop the ability to speak effectively in public or in everyday conversation — to forge ahead twice as fast as you are now doing, read Howio Work Wonders With Words now Bent free. This new booklet, "recently published, points the road that thousands have followed to increase quickly their earning power and popularity. It also explains how you can, by a new, easy home study method, become an outstanding speaker and conquer staKO tright, timidity and lear. To read tliis booklet will prove to be an evening wellspent. Simply .send' name and address and this valuable free booklet will be sent at once. No obligation. NORTH AMERICAN INSTITUTE 3601 Michigan Ave., Dept. 4437, Chicago, Illinois MONEY FAR YOU ' AT HOME 3i YOUcanearn good money iti apare lime a t home making aiepiay caraa. No selling or canvaaaing. We instruct you. furnish complete outfit and supply you with work. Write to-day lor free booklet. The MENHENITT COMPANY Limited 252 DomiruoD Bldg.. Toronto. Ont ■ M ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ for Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer I was thrilled beyond words. I had read reams about California and Hollywood in particular but had never laid eyes upon one inch of the country before. My work on the stage had kept me pretty much confined to theatres, cities and stock companies. "The day I arrived, however, was the only day (so they said) that it had rained in months. Everything was dripping wet, there was no sun and besides I felt lonesome. It was a depressing event, coming as it did as a letdown to my fanciful dreams of what I would see when the train pulled into the depot. I was whisked right to the studio — many miles away, to my complete consternation, and since then I have been so busy with pictures I have scarcely had time to see anything of Hollywood. I did manage to lunch at the Brown Derby once only to discover later it was the wrong one. "My early screen training? It's of no value whatever to me now. My stage experience is vastly more useful in reading of lines, understanding of dramatic values and poise. In the days I first remember working in pictures at Fort Lee, everything was so primitive as compared with what I find now. There isn't one solitary detail left unchanged. I am a perfect stranger to this new industry. Not even the camera was familiar to me. In fact, disguised with what they call 'bungalows', I didn't know where the camera was when I made my first tests with Mr. Novarro. "I really can't compare the stars I meet today with those I played with at Fort Lee. There were Robert Warwick, Alice Brady, Ethel Clayton, Montague Love — all those people who were so marvelous to me. Everyone I have played with here has been so very considerate. I do think, however, there was much more fun — or romance, if you'd call it that — in the old, silent days. Everything was so uncertain. Nothing was secure or definite. Players had to be good troupers. They were like prospectors looking for gold. Now everything is so business-like, well-regulated, smooth and thoroughly organized. Of course, I realize the necessity for economic control in any industry. But the old hitor-miss days seemed more thrilling. "But speaking as you were of advertisements, there was one I never have a chance to forget posing for. It was for a hat manufacturer who put out what he wanted to call a 'Madge Evans' hat, named after me. That was years ago. But every month a check still comes with royalties!" He's Sore Because He's A Hit [Continued from page 38] heavies," he shot back, "if I can play manly heavies. It's these sissies who hide behind their women's skirts I object to." Monroe's mind was made up and there was no placating him. Besides, other things were worrying him. "When I came out here I knew a lot of people and they began asking me around. I tried to play and work at the same time. It can't be done. Besides the late hours, it was a cocktail here and a highball there. I finally had to call 'quits.' I'm on the wagon now and I've taken a house down at the beach. The next time you come down, you'll drink lemonade and like it. Moreover, we go to bed at nine o'clock. "It seems to me that everybody out here worries more than is good for anyone. They worry over parts, they worry over pictures, they worry over publicity and they even worry — seriously — over whether they look their best when they go out anywhere. It's beginning to hand me a big laugh. "I've reached the point where I can't worry any more. I haven't got any nerves: they're numb." Monroe is one of the most highly strung people I've ever met. He moves at a high tension all the time. Even when he sits down there is nothing relaxed about him. He was born in Georgia. His father was a manufacturer but Monroe's ambition was to become a second Ty Cobb. In evei-y one of the several cities in which he lived — Atlanta, St. Louis, El Paso, Hartford and New York — he immediately identified himself with a ball team. Later, he played football and went out for track at West Philadelphia High, Loomis Institute and Bristol High. He prepped for Yale, became a member of the Sigma Lamba Nu fraternity and then went into the R.O.T.C. in 1918. Yale never saw him. His first job was on a newspaper as a reporter and he pounded out copy while playing semi-pro baseball on the side. As he puts it, he wasn't setting the woods on fire as a reporter and through one of those freaks of circumstance that happen only in New York and Hollywood, suddenly found himself playing in vaudeville. His bookings completed, he looked around vainly for a job. The pantr)' grew emptier and emptier. Then a friend told him of a tent show company that was being organized to take "The Meanest Man in the World" on tour. Monroe got the lead and trouped with them for a season. Afterwards he doubled in "Merton of the Movies" and got his first real break. This was followed with the "Sky Hawk," "The Best People," "Young Blood," "The Goose Hangs High," "The Great Gatsby" and "Holiday," interspersed with about fortv-nine weeks of stock work for Stuart Walker. His rendition of the part of Ned Seton in the stage production of "Holiday" brought him to the attention of filmland and he came to Holly^vood to re-create the same part in the picture. "Here's another thing," Monroe said, reverting to his grievances. "On the stage they hand you a part. You read it and