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Job Hunting in Hollywood
Even The Publicity Stunt Promoter – BY LOUISE GALLAGHER
ALMOST an exact copy of Mount Vernon, with the California foothills in the distance instead of the green banks of the Potomac, the Thomas Ince Studio at Culver City is the highbrow of the studio world. A lovely colonial mansion in a setting of exquisite lawns, it seems a fitting background for beautiful ladies and dignified courtly gentlemen whose lives would be far removed from grease paint and clicking cameras. You have an obstinate feeling that you do not want to connect this Southern mansion, with the feverish motion picture industry and yet it is here tht some of the biggest pictures have been made.
Monday was an off day for me so I went out to see the settings provided by Ince for the filming of “Barbara Frietchie.” I crossed a strip of lawn in front of the studio and found myself walking through Frederick, Md., as it appeared in 1861. The Quaint old houses that had sprung up overnight were already occupied by economical maids in hoop skirts and gailant cavailers with sideburns. Personally I have never had any great admiration for the fearless Barbara. She was just a grandstand player trying to get the center of the stage. She was perfectly safe in daring a Southern man to shoot at a woman. I have always been a little disappointed tht Stonewall didn’t call her bluff sufficiently to give her a good scare by snipping off at least one hoop. But that was before I saw Florence Vidor as Barbara. She is so cool and sweet and self-assured that you would not dare touch even the tiniest frill of her wide skirts.
The make-up that Kleig lights call for is far from becoming to the average person but even heavy powder and absence of rough does not cause you to hesitate in calling her one of the screen’s greatest beauties.
“I have been in pictures for eight years,” Miss Vidor told me, “I am almost a pioneer in the business now so rapidly do changes come, but I have never lost interest in my work though it is exacting and demands much from its followers. I don’t think the woman of the South-I was born and reared in Houston, Texas-have the endurance that the women from other sections of the states seem to possess. I find that between 1 and 3 o’clock in the afternoon is a hard time to put over an emotional scene, perhaps due to the fact that my grandmothers devotedthat time to their beauty nap. I use up a lot of willpower when a director times his big scenes at that particular period of the afternoon.”
Loving Barbara.
“Don’t you just love yourself as Barbara?” I asked her, “and wouldn’t you go over big at a Confederate reunion in that dress?” It was so nice of them to reconstruct old lady Fritchie into a beautiful young girl. “It does make it more romantic,” Miss Vidor smiled, “and I enjoy playing the role immensely. The first I looked out from my balcony and saw the streets filled with Confederate soldiers, my eyes became so full of tears they had to stop the camera for me to get the mascarto back on.” What I like best about Florence Vidor besides her intriguing voice and lovely dark eyes, is her individualism. She draws a subtle line between the modern girlish type and the daring woman of the world that is refreshing.
You will be sorry to hear that the bathing girls have had an awful jolt. Our stock has gone down considerably in the last week. It is a sort of studio tradition in Hollywood that b. b. ‘s success in the picture game. The magazines are always telling how some water Venus steps to the front row with the aid of her one-piece suit and makeup box. You never can tell when some wise one in search of promising talent will happen along and recognize a Gloria Swanson by the way you wear a string of beads or a shoulder strap. The six specially selected and carefully costumed Sennet girls know that it is expected of them when out on inspection to look as though they are capable of taking care of the feminine good-looks of the entire movie industry.
Our personally conducted tours, which consist of showing off before the natives at some nearby beach or theater, are under the supervision of Miss Agnes O’Malley, who started in writing publicity for the bathing girls only but the stories about us went over so easily she was put in charge of all the studio publicity. Miss O’Malley is young, just out of college in fact, and snappy. She shows the girls off to good advantages, too, by always wearing a knicker suit and low heels.
On this particular day we had gone down to one of the resorts to give the tired vacationist a change of scenery. “Girls,” Miss O’Malley said, “Step ’em up when you go out on the pier there is a man here from the East looking you over. I haven’t found out yet just who he is but he has his cameraman with him and is going to take some pictures if he thinks it worth while.”
Always in the back of every girl’s mind, if she works in pictures, is the idea that some day she will be snatched out of the rank and file and given a chance. It is this visionary dream of the future that helps her over the rough places in the road she must travel the first few years. Getting to the studio by 8:30 every morning madeup may be a dog’s life but during puppyhood it is easy to find a few bright spots along the way and most of the girls are happy and carefree. Jealousy-professional jealousy I suppose you would call it-is their most serious cause of unhappiness. If one girl is singled out for special attention by a newspaper photographer, the other left out ones secretly resent the overlooking of their charms. We saw our man as soon as we went on the pier.
Bald As Usual.
He was a big fellow, with the usual bald spot and golf hose that is the correct wearing apparel for the theatrical and movie producers of the West. Evidently he was of such importance that he couldn’t address any conversation to us direct. His cameraman came over and asked would we drape ourselves as artistically as possible against the rail. Each one struck their favorite careless pose. There were a few moments of conversation between Baldy and his cameraman: Then the latter came over to us again. No matter how indifferent you appear on the surface underneath there is always a shaky feeling when you know your good and bad points are being measured up against those of others. The cameraman walked straight to Miss O’Malley, leaning carelessly’ against a post. She is such a brick we knew she would discreetly lower her voice in discussing any of the girls. “Would you let us run off a reel of you,” the cameraman said, “just three or four poses will do?”
“Of me? I’m Miss O’Malley you know?” Evidently he didn’t know just why she gave him her name. “We think you have good possibilities before a camera. Your face has thought and expression which is . what we are always on the lookout for, as well, of course, as good looks.”
Miss O’Malley put on her grand air which she keeps in reserve for those who overstep a certain boundary line. “I am a publicity writer, not a bathing girl. I wouldn’t be in the least interested.” And she marshalled us off the pier and back to our cars. We were quit on the way home, stealing furtive glances at Miss O’Malley from under out eyelashes. At last Helen burst out, “I think it is a shame we have to have competition on all sides. The telephone girl and the wardrobe lady at Sennett’s are beauties and now our publicity department out-rivals us. We might well fold up our bathing suits and tip-toe out.”
