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Determination Fails To Win BY LOUISE GALLAGHER
HOLLYWOOD was looking misty and melancholy at 8:30 the other morning when I set forth all properly gotten up as a school vamp for work on the Harold Lloyd set.
It was destined to be a morning of disappointments, presaged first by a new brand of grease paint I had been beguiled by a clever salesman into buying turning out a too lively shade a pink and second by a black cat scooting across my path just as I came out of the garage. I knew the day would be marked by calamity of some sort and it was. In front of the Kress Drug Store a girl I knew called excitedly to me to stop.
“Who do you think is in the drug store? The Valentino himself. I am going to wait right here until he comes out if it takes all morning and I never get another call from the Lasky office.”
I agreed with her that it would be worth our while waiting and drove up as close to the curbing as I could get.
I can hardly bring myself to write about it. The wicked-eyed dashing hero is no morel The famous heart-palpitating sheik has either entirely disappeared or is so well camouflaged behind a black trellis of whiskers as to be unrecognizable. The man who walked out of that store might have been a physician, a scientist or any other sort of serious professional gentleman but a romantic lover never. His light top coat was cut on quite swagger lines and he walked with poise and assurance but so do countless other lesser lights who block the narrow streets of the film city.
It looks very much to me as if the thing has been deliberately planned and that the fine hand of a woman appears in the job. it is a catty thing to say but I wonder if Mrs. Ruddy didn’t hit upon the whiskered plumage as a protection for them both? The gift of providence to the younger generation is now so disguised that the most susceptible flapper would pass him by without flickering an eyelash. Who wants to think of a tango lover with whiskers or a sheik without a sheiky shave? It will be easy sailing for Mrs. Valentino while Ruddy’s present picture is being made.
When I first saw Douglas Fairbanks during the making of the Thief of Bagdad with a sort of open work jacket and long hair reaching to is shoulders, I considered him a most picturesque figure that fitted in well with the fantastic scenery of the city of Bagdad. However, when I saw him similarly dressed on the street and in cafes, it seemed rather out of place. The unfortunate part of it was that he had many imitators and the whole city bloomed forth with the unshaved and unshorn, most of them minus the gay trappings and good carriage that distinguished Doug. You can imagine what a lively place this will be for the girls if the handsome heroes of Hollywood turn out a la Valentino.
Determination.
The morning that I lost all personal interest in Ruddy off screen was also marked by an unpleasant experience with a would be screen aspirant. When I left the studio at noon I noticed that a black and white taxi followed my car up the boulevard. When I came out of the hotel where I live, a young boy about 16 years of age was standing near my car. He asked me if I would mind giving him a lift to the boulevard two blocks away. I was glad to do so. The street car system in Hollywood is show and temperamental. You may get where you start for and you may not and when you most depend upon them they are apt to never show up.
The boy told me that he was from New York and had only been here two weeks. He seemed especially anxious to know how many Lloyd pictures I had been in and what my salary was. No one in pictures ever tells the truth so I may have exaggerated some for his benefit. Anyway I thought he was only here for a visit and might as well take home a glowing picture of life in the movies. When we reached the boulevard, he told me he was going on down to Sunset if I didn’t mind. He had taken in every little detail of my appearance. I had on a costume and makeup, and had all the appearance of being highly pleased over meeting a movie girl.
Arriving at Sunset, where I take a side street two blocks to the Lloyd studio, I stopped for him to get out. Then the fun started. I have never seen such a quick change in anyone. He cooly informed me that he had no intention of getting out, I was going to drive him right through the studio gate or he would know the reason why. I thought at first he was just trying to be smart and explained to him that I couldn’t take him if I wanted to do so; that without a special permit, I could not drive in with anyone in my car.
He tried to pull me out of my seat, evidently with the intention of driving himself but safely wedged in behind the wheel he couldn’t budge me. I slapped his face and he hit back but I dodged. He began to rave saying I was trying to keep him from getting into pictures. He had followed me from the studio when I went home for lunch because he had planned that the only way for him to get inside the gate was for someone of the company to take him. All he asked was to once get to see Harold Lloyd and Mr. Lloyd would recognize him as a person of talent whom he would be glad to sign up. I was going to drive him through that gate and without any more talk about it. I wasn’t going to do any such a thing and told him so. I didn’t want to drive up to the gate for fear the gateman, knowing me, might also pass my unwelcome passenger. I opened the door and quick or I would have to call to the next car passing. He refused and tried again to pull me from behind the wheel. I want to tell you we staged a regular Jack Dempsey act, with me in the stellar role for the boy didn’t once hit me hard. Fortunately a studio car containing two of the camera men drove up and stopped to see what we were rehearsing. They made quick work of the would-be-movie star but I did feel sorry for him when he sat down on the curbstone all weary and discouraged. I think he was just an ambitious boy from some small town who had hit upon what he thought was a clever way of getting into the studio.
The Crank’s Mecca.
Hollywood is a mecca for all sorts of cranks but not often one so young and determined as-was my pickup. I can tell you I didn’t enjoy the afternoon much. All the company razzed me about taking a gentleman for an auto ride and then trying to make him get out and walk. Harold Lloyd said it would have been all right for me to have taken the boy in for young cranks are easily dealt with and since he proved to be a poor boxer, one day on our gym set would have finished him and destroyed all illusions about an easy screen life. Mr. Lloyd is a regular dear, I could go right on working for him forever. The Sennett comedies are often hard work that takes all of your energy but the LIoyd company so beautifully combine work and play that you enjoy every minute of it. There is an old man working in this picture that is seldom called in on any scene. Every evening the assistant director tells him he will not be needed the next day.
He pretends not to hear him and replies, “Yes sir, I will
be here at 8:30 prompt.”
It seems that he has played for many years with Lloyd and was at one time considered very excellent for father parts. His usefulness has gone but he has a stand-in with Harold who will not let them turn him off. The old fellow draws his $7.50 every day that a Lloyd’ picture is being filmed and never knows that he doesn’t earn it. The director and his assistants who are responsible for the cost the picture must carry him whether they use his services or not.
