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Job Hunting in Hollywood
A Kiss From Birmingham BY LOUISE GALLAGHER
NEWCOMERS to Hollywood are likely to be startled by a whirring noise that rings through the hamlet at 7 o’clock each working day in the week. Countless Big Bens send out a warning to hard-working screen artists that it is time to get up.
Seven o’clock is the rising hour for nearly every member of the film colony-there is perhaps no other city in the world that has such a universal habit. Unless you live in some suburb that is far away from the studios, you can get breakfast, your makeup properly patted on, and to work by 8:30, which is the time set at nearly all studios for the beginning of the day’s work.
When Ben rattled off the other morning, I blinked my eyes open as usual, but found that it was quite dark. Something wrong, for It could not be more than 4 o’clock, so I had another nap, but when I awoke an hour later it was still dark and had begun to rain. A rainy day in this section of southern California is such a rarity that it is eagerly welcomed. We were working on an outdoor scene, so it was useless to go out to the studio. I had planned a nice stay at home program, but at 10 o’clock they phoned me to report to work as quickly as possible. I skidded out, and you do exactly that when the oiled streets here are wet. Our director had decided that he would take advantage of the rain to shoot some storm scene that could be canned for use in some later pictures. It is a mighty difficult thing to get a rain storm that will look like the real thing and at this season of the year the weatherman can never be depended upon to lend a helping hand.
The big companies working on a picture calling for rain send out inquiries to other localities to notify them when a storm is brewing that is liable to last long enough for them to get there and shoot it. You can imagine the expense involved if Old Sol decides to chase away the rain clouds about the time of their arrival. A script calling for a good downpour is looked upon by directors with unfriendly eyes.
Visitors to Hollywood on this rainy day must have gone away greatly impressed with the business-like attitude of studio heads that let nothing interfere with their work. All over the city cameras were clicking merrily while nationally known ones, those not so well known, and those who will never be known, trudged around in slickers and rain capes cussing the writers who insist upon putting in a downpour.
Our director shot three scenes, one in the slums of the big city and one in a fashionable residential section-we happened to have two sets of this kind on the lot. Our last scene was leaving a railroad station. As none of our faces were recognizable from the slouch hats we wore and our raincoats, it will be possible to use these in the first picture they make where a storm is needed, and it will be easy to just have to stage enough rain to run the leads through. It is one of the most difficult problems in filming to put on an artificial storm that will look like the real thing. Anyway, for the sake of art we suffered a good, hard drenching.
Harold’s Wonderful Spell.
I have quite fallen under the spell of Harold Lloyd. Having worked in his company only two days and not being at all addicted to motion picture hero-worship, I consider that a compliment to Harold’s engaging personality and especially as I can’t recall that during those two days Mr. Lloyd directed any special conversation my way.
He is the freshest looking young man of the screen world. No, I don’t mean that for slang. Anyone who knows the comedian would be shocked to hear him spoken of as “fresh.” I just have reference to his nice, pink and white skin and his out-or-door wholesomeness. You couldn’t fail to like him.
He looks more like a college athlete than the richest young man of the screen. I went on location with his company to a small village about 40 miles from here where we might reasonably hope to get over our stuff .. without interruptions. It was a railroad station scene where a real train was caught coming in, and then our own special car used for the boys getting off. I did not get much of the drift of the story other than we were the sweethearts welcoming home the village Beau Brummels who had been off to college.
As we crowded onto the platform, the boys rushed off the train, looking very swanky in their sweaters and frosh caps. The scene was going over good as it had been kept very quit that the Lloyd Company was working at Ontaria and our audience was very small. Harold Lloyd got off the train loaded down with golf clubs, uke, tennis racket and other school paraphernalia and properly registering eagerness to greet the home girls. All the others were claimed by girls and dragged down the platform in roars of laughter while Harold stood unnoticed and alone.
Just as he turned his face for the cameras to get the expression, a small boy rushed out from among the few bystanders and snatched his hand. “I know you-I know you-you are Harold Lloyd-don’t pay any attention whether them old smarties notice you or not. Come on over with us kids.”
Never, I am sure, has the screen seen Harold Lloyd register just the look clever bit of acting and I looked to see who the small actor was. Just then the director yelled, “Cut,” and Mr. Lloyd shook hands warmly with his young admirer and thanked him for trying to make him feel more at home.
He took the gang-five small boys in all-over to the nearest drug store for a drink and spent about half an hour with them. That the youngster had been responsible for ruining several hundred feet of film and extra work of taking the whole scene over, bothered neither Harold nor the gang. They acted as a critical audience the rest of the afternoon, watching intently to see that none of us again snubbed their hero.
Not So Thrilling.
I have had several letters from the girls back in Birmingham asking me to tell them if it is note quite thrilly having a screen lover. Also if a screen kiss stacks up well when it is inspected by so many onlookers.
In reply to all such questions I might reply that not one thrilling thing has happened to me along this line that couldn’t have gone over just as easily back home. So, girls, you don’t need to curl up in envy of Hollywood Pashas. I have had to make love to Will Rogers, Ben Turpin and a few others, but there was not much romance about it, just straight comedy mostly. In this Lloyd picture though I did get one screen kiss from a young and goodlooking screen Barrymore but he was from Birmingham and that could easily have happened had we both remained in Alabama. The director told me my college lover, whom I was to welcome home . with a “hold it kiss” would be pointed out to me by the assistant director. It was Jack Thomas, a Birmingham boy who has been in pictures for about a year and who has made quite a headway. I did not know him back home but met him just after I came here, but this is the first picture we have both worked in together. Jack has been carried all through the picture, so Birmingham will be able to see him screenily when the picture is released. I hope they don’t cut our part, for it would be kind of nice for us to go home together.
How would you like to be paid a couple of thousands just to die? It might not appeal to you but on the other hand neither owuld you be apt to get the chance. In a recent picture Henry Walthall died for a whole week. Had nothing to do but just lie in bed-dying. It is rumored that those responsible for engaging the cast for the picture in which this took place, were severely criticised for getting such a high priced star for the part. I heard the director himself declare that it took a mighty good actor to die properly. That there was no other man of the screen that could put the fine art into dying that Henry Walthall could.
I saw Mr. Walthall when he was playing in, “A Woman of the Jury,” and later saw the picture at one of the local theaters here. There was such a little flash of Walthall, but his part was so perfectly done that he is the only member of the cast that I can now remember. On account of poor health he has not been much before the public in the last few years but if you listen in on the conversation of those who appreciate real art, you will find that in their opinion Henry Walthall has never been equaled on the screen.
