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Job Hunting in Hollywood
Shocked At Hollywood Yes; At Its Shabbiness! BY LOUISE GALLAGHER
IT is the season of the year when flivvers hold first place on the film highways in and around Hollywood. Good citizens from the middle Western : states have come vacationing to find out for themselves : some of the hidden secrets of movie land. They are celebrity hunting and confidently expect to look slyly in on a few revels that will make them rise up in excitement.
Parked along the boulevard any hour of the day and until at least nine at night, may be found sunburned family groups sitting at ease in their Ford touring, eating hamburgers and discussing the probable identity of gorgeously attired occupants of low necked speed cars that bowl past them. They expect to find the whole town swarming with movie stars who have nothing to do but show themselves in their best finery to the auto tourist who has “bumped the bumps” across canyons, blistered his way over the desert with the thermometer registering 110 at eight in the morning and going up like . an elevator, swallowed his demitasse in the evening to the accompaniment of a coyote orchestra, to reach this Mecca of Movie land.
I was looking over the magazines in front of the Kress Drug Store the other day to see if by chance my own good looking face had gotten by, when a party of four Ford autoists parked near attracted my attention. Father and mother looked a little weather beaten but son and daughter, aged about 17 and 15, were as bright and shining as the morning and all ready for their favorite stars to promenade past them.
The girl asked me rather timidly if I could tell them where Mary Pickford lived as they wanted to drive out and see her while they were here. I explained that Mary’s home was several miles out from Hollywood and was a big estate with private grounds not open to the public.
Many On The Job.
While we were talking, I had kept my eye on a car in front of a small shop across the street. The woman waiting in the car looked very much like Mrs. Pickford and for the sake of the boy and girl from Arizona I hopes some member of the famous family would join her. Sure enough Mary herself, came out of the shop and while she was getting in the car, I told them who it was. Don’t think you are going to put anything over on the family of a middle Westerner!
A good look at the plainly dressed woman in lowheeled slippers with her hair hidden by a small hat was enough to convince them that I was not telling the truth, and they turned indignantly away. To get away from the chilly atmosphere I went in for an ice-cream soda. The boy at the fountain gave me some good advice.
“Don’t ever tell any of those Ford travelers the truth about Who is Who on the boulevard. If you succeed in convincing them that you are a little George Washington, you’ll spoil their whole trip for them. 1 kept one old dame in here all one morning waiting to see Warren Kerrigan. And when he finally did come he had on knickers and a soft shirt open at the neck an without a tie. Evidently she had a mental picture of Warren as a romantic hero and the shock was terrific. Anyway she was game and a lady for she smiled nicely at Kerrigan and then called me to the door as she was leaving. “Thank you for your kindness, young man. Don’t be afraid of what 1 will tell back home. The folks will never know from me how shabby poor Mr. Kerrigan is.”
Just A Little Help.
The society crowd of Hollywood and vicinity help the film folks a lot by dolling themselves up and going on parade at the hotels and cafes. After a day’s work on the lot there is not much inclination to go joy-seeking and it is only on special occasions or when there is worthwhile publicity to be gotten out of it, that a well-known star takes the trouble to dine or dance out.
The only ones who like to see stars at their worst and take pleasure in talking about how much longer they can expect to go on at their age, are the small part players,and especially the women. They just boil over at the , publicity stories in the magazines and the photographs showing popular favorites at least 15 years younger than they are.
Out on the set the other day we were looking at a picture in one of the film magazines of Mildred Harris and right across from us Miss Harris was discussing the next scene with her director. The title under the photograph said the fair Mildred’s features, were “as clear out as a cameo,” and you could not help but wonder if the person responsible for the title had ever looked over a collection of real cameos. Miss Harris looks disillusioned, dissatisfied and as though she is always a little on the defensive. It is the general verdict here that she got a rotten deal from Chaplin.
During the three days 1 worked on her set 1 never heard her address a remark, either civil or otherwise, to any member of the cast. 1 liked her director though and hope he has a prophet’s vision. The last day 1 was on his set he asked me to have my luncheon at his table so he could have a little talk with me.
“Y ou are an actress, Louise, and some day 1 shall expect to see you a great star. Don’t expect too much in the next three or four years for you have still much to learn and above all don’t marry. No matter what you hear to the contrary, the two careers do not mix and the actress who wants to go far in her profession must have no divided interests. Above all take care of your looks and get plenty of sleep.”
An Offer Declined.
I told him about an offer I have just had to go on the circuit. This is the second one since I have been here and this last one has been unusually tempting for it is with a musical comedy that would take me East where I would be in line for a tryout in the Follies. “I wouldn’t go if I were you,” Mr. Director said. “Not that a year on the legitimate stage wouldn’t be time well spent, but it won’t be easy to come back to the quietness of Hollywood after life on the road and a season in New York. A lot of girls come here from the big Eastern cities whose chances in pictures are very good but they can’t stand the monotony and they soon drift back.”
That is the way things go here. You get discouraged when work is slack and three or four idle days come in one week, and then some nice person comes along and gives you a boost, and you are all happy and pepped up once more.
Yesterday I worked in a South Sea Island picure in which the magnificent tropical background was supposed to be filmed in Tahiti. A lovely stretch of beach war found near here that was ideal except for the fact that the stately palms of the tropics were missing. But nothing daunts a studio technical director. A camouflare artist and a group of technicians went to work promptly and remedied his fault of nature.
The trunks of 500 giant palms were constructed at the studio and were sent out on large trucks to the beach location. Here a crew or workmen dug shallow pits and planted “cradles” in which the trunks of the trees were centered. When the forest of trees had taken firm root, another crew of camouflage artists ascended tall ladders and dressed the barren trees with fresh cut palm leaves. The result was little short of miraculous in effect. Where once the sand and rocks had stretched in barren unrelief, graceful palms offered a comfortable shade that we were very grateful for as the sun gets unbearable hot from 11 to 3 at the beach. We had’to dance on sand so hot it almost burned our bare feet. The sailors from a nearby liner had strolled over to watch us work. One of them protested to the director that it was all wrong. He had been in Tahiti and he knew the natives to be a lazy lot who never came out until after the sun was down. He just couldn’t see why it was necessary to work when the sun was so hot and neither could we.
