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building. When he died, 30 years later, his handsome factory covered much ground in the heart of Holly wood, and was the mecca for the most beautiful women on earth.
Even as a youngster apprentice in the make-up and haircrafting shops of Europe, Factor had rebelled against the crudities that often marked the compounding of theatrical make-up. Never had he gone along with the nonchalant attitude that allowed makeup artists to mix green kalsomine powder with suet to supply a glamourseeking actress with eye shadow. Often, in the European theatre, beet juice was mixed with beeswax to bring a lively blush to ingenue cheeks.
Young Factor had always sought the utmost purity in the make-up he created, and this feeling was apparent 40 years ago when he invented the very first motion picture make-up, a cream greasepaint in sanitary tubes. Before this invention, screen performers had used only stage make-up, in heavy greasepaint stick form, which was far from satisfactory for motion pictures.
Factor was miles from the studios when the movie-makers started their exodus from downtown Los Angeles to the suburbs. Hollywood was then a placid countryside, without streetcars or busses. So Factor got a bicycle
ny October, 1930
and pedaled around the lots with his make-up ingredients in a basket on the ' handlebars. His first success, though, came with wigs. At that time, the studios were using dyed excelsior, Spanish moss and stuffings of mattresses for wigs, sticking them together with cement. In 1913, Cecil B. DeMille arrived to produce The Squaw * Man, and Factor sold him on using real hair for his Indians. DeMille's action made all the other studios follow suit.
It was rough at first, though, because many producers could not lay out the cash for the rather heavy deposits required to rent wigs. Max, Jr., Davis and Louis — the Factor sons — received their movie baptism by fire by going in as extras for $3 a day. Actually, their job was to keep track of the precious hairpieces that had been let out minus the usual deposit. Many a night the boys stayed after * the "shooting" to search a deserted studio lot for wigs that "Indian" extras had torn from their heads and tossed in all directions.
Because of Factor's pioneering, studios now have special wig fittings as part of their productions. When a star like Linda Darnell has a special job done, it costs $400; but it is figured into the budget the same as props and other regular items. Executives have discovered that the expense is well < justified: otherwise Linda would have to hold up shooting for several hours while the hairdresser went to great pains to fix her coiffure for every scene.
Factor's elaborate wig establishment is the largest in the world. Nearly all of the famous Hollywood males whcw»