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Breaking into Pictures
NE does not have to be a good second story worker to break
into pictures, although previous training in this line is
advisable. One should plan "breaking into" pictures very carefully. You must have courage, confidence and perseverance. If you are asked to play a Hottentot Potentate or a rural postmaster, great. If you are asked to play a floor walker in a department store, a clergyman from Ospoosa, or a bouncer in a gin mill, fine. Play them. Before seeing casting directors, practice a little bit on seeing bank presidents. Afterwards, you should have no trouble.
Several years ago I was a life member of the Forty-second Street Country Club and was knocking down a few "balls" in Sixth Avenue, when I met, at the corner of Dead Man's Lane and Forty-Second Street, one of the largest producers in the business. He weighed three hundred pounds and was over six feet. The wind was rather strong that morning and he was trying to decide whether the girl's figures were as good then as they were when he was a boy back on the farm. I exchanged a saw buck and the time of the day with him and we played the eighteenth hole in the Kaiser Keller bar and I put the last ball in very easily, winning the game.
He casually mentioned pictures. I was on the Cafeteria time then and had no intention of "leaving" the stage. But I knew that pictures would enable me to settle down, also "settle up," buy a piece of real estate and cause my wife to quit packing trunks eight days in the week. Besides, while I used to like all the hotel proprietors between New York and Seattle, I was getting a little tired of the "one night stand" and would have much preferred the "all day sit." My doctor told me that one of my hips was out of joint from pressing disguised Ostermoors in actors' boarding houses, so I listened to my friend with interest.
He was producing something. He didn't seem to know what it was, but, anyway, he had gotten a camera and a director and several widowers and widows of the theatrical profession and was making something at a place called Fort Lee, which, as far as I could gather, appeared to be in New Jersey, a State I knew was across the river from New York. So, I left him and strolled up
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