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284 yes, Mr. DeMille encyclopedia and which the encyclopedia probably paid $10 for. Will the critic say I am right? No, he'll turn his back on my $100,000 worth of research and say, 'That's Hollywood for you.'" Shakily we would commit a picture to the care of the censors and critics. When the reaction was hostile, DeMille was able to suppress a homicidal desire to strike back. Probably the boss's longest stretch of silent suffering started in 1921 and continued for fifteen years. And no doubt longer, had not the magazine gone out of circulation. The culprit was Robert E. Sherwood, playwright and presi- dential speech writer, film critic of the old Life. Sherwood's monographs on DeMille were chock full of witticisms, his humor edged with telling observations. Once installed as reviewer, Sherwood lost no time in getting to his target. His first swipe at DeMille was a backhanded compliment on Forbidden Fruit. For once DeMille has had the sense to subordinate the sex appeal and pay a little attention to the story, Sherwood wrote. The following week Sherwood, dipping his pen in tabasco, turned to The Affairs of Anatol, based on the Arthur Schnitzler play. The review struck up an imaginary conversation between Sherwood and a man seated next to him at a showing of the picture: But who is that?" asked my friend in a startled tone, as the picture began. "That is Wallace Reid, who is playing the role of Anatol, a young, 100 per cent American millionaire." "But-" "Hush" I cautioned him. "You are drowning out the organ." "Whose bare leg is that?" he queried next.