^7^/ /:/ 4'; \

SCANNED FROM THE COLLECTIONS OF

PFA Library and Film Study Center,

University of California, Berkeley Art Museum & Pacific Film Archiv

bampfa.berkeley.edu

Coordinated by the

Media History Digital Library

www.mediahistoryproject.org

Funded by an anonymous donation in memor>' of Carolyn Ilauer

Digitized by the Internet Archive

in 2009 with funding from

IVIedia History Digital Library

http://www.archive.org/details/motionpicturecla1920broo

ACTION PICTVDE

JANUARY

MARION DAVIE5 '

r^"

-•? \'

A Startling Memory Feat That^u GanDo

How I lesu-ned the secret in one evening. It has helped me erery day

WHEN my old friend Faulkner invited me to a dinner part}' at his house. 1 little thought it would be the direct means of getting me a one-hundred-and-fifty per cent, increase in salar>'. Yet it was, and here is the way it all came about.

Toward the close of the evening things began to drag a bit. as they often do at parties. Fi- nally some one suggested the old idea of having everyone do a "sttmt." Some sang, others forced weird sounds out of the piano, recited, told stories, and so on.

Then it came to Macdonald's turn. He ^vas a quiet sort of chap, with an air about him that reminded one of the old sa)ing that "still waters run deep." He said he had a simple "stunt" which he hoped we would like. He selected me to assist him. First he asked to be blindfolded securely to prove there was no trickery in it. Those present were to call out twenty-five numbers of three figures each, such as 161. 249. and so on. He asked me to write down the num- bers as they were called.

This was done. Macdonald then astounded everyone by repeating the entire list of twenty- five numbers backwards and forwards. Then he asked people to request numbers by posi- tions, such as the eighth number called, the fourUj number, and so on. Instantly he repeated back the exact number in the position called. He did this with the entire list — over and over again, without making a single mistake.

Then Macdonald asked that a deck of cards be shuffled and called oijt to him in their order. This was done. Still blindfolded, he instantly named the cards in their order backwards and forwards. And then to further amaze us, he gave us the number of any card counting from 3ie top, or the card for any number.

You may well imagine our amazement at Mac- donald's remarkable feat. You naturally expect to see a thing of this sort on the stage, and even then you look upon it as a trick. But to see it done by an evervday business man. in plain view of everyone, blind- folded and under con- ditions which make trick- ery impossible, is aston- ishing, to say the least.

ON the way home that night I asked Macdonald how it was done. He said there was really nothing to it — simply a memory feat, the key to which anyone could easily learn m one evemng. Ihen he told me that the reason most people have bad memories is because they leave memory develop- ment to chance. Anyone could do what he had done, and develop a good memory, he ^id, by following a few simple rules. told me exactly how to do it.

'Our president compliment to tell him instantly fac

And then he At the time I

Bttle thought that evenmg """'f. P™;!* •" °*u°'\' of the most eventful in my life, but such tt

"'what'^Iacdonald told me I took }o^"'^ In one evemng I made remarkable stndes t<^ ward improving my memory and it was but a miestion of da* before I learned to do exacth^ what he had done. At first I «n»*edmyself with my new-found ability by amazing people at

(Three)

parties, ^f^ "memorv- feat." as my frieiuU called it, snrel)' made a hit. Every one was talking about it. and 1 was showered with in- vitations for all sorts of affairs. If anyone were to ask me how quickly to develop so- cial popularity, I would tell him to leam my memory "feat" — but that is apart from what I want to tell you.

The most gratifying thing about the improvement of my memory was the re- markable way it helped me in business. Much to my surprise I discovered that my memory training had literally put a razor edge on my brain. My brain had become clearer, quick- er, keener, 1 felt that I was fast acquiring that mental grasp and alertness I had so often admired in men who were spoken of as "wonders" and "geniuses."

The next thing I noticed was a marked improvement in my conversational pow- ers. Formerly my talk was . , ,^„ |,is „,„, Sashes to my mind, together with a halting and disconnected. I never '°"''' '"'""."j string of facts about him. 1 always NkeS to read hot things to say until the conversation »>" ""V; /*"„^ „,„all, forget most of it. Now I find it easy to recall then, when it was too late. I .•»"!'' /'"^''(..'^'""buI what I have read. Another surprising thing is that 1 apt and sinking thing. I . ""C'"^",' ,~ talking I <:»n now master a subject in considerably less Ume than now I can think like > fl»«b When I am "'""^K ' ^^,„„ p^ce Usts. market qnoUtions. data of all kinds, never have to hesitate for the "«•" ,»'°'°- '"h,?*"! I can recall in detail almost at will. I rarely inake a expression or the ngbt thing to say. It seems ">» »" mistake

I have to do is to start to talk and ■"'"""i' j", ,h° My vocabulary, too. has increased wonderfully. When-

myself saying the very thing I want to say lo ma»e ^^^^ I see a striking word or expression. I memoriae it

urealest impression on people. ,i:,:,, ,„ remem- and use it irt m. diclalion or conversation. This has

It wasn-t long before my newfound =>'"'■"', '° '""X put a remarknbk sparkle and puHin, power into my coo

•"^ii-.^rSl ,T,he riiht Hine versation and business leUers. And the remarkable part

".£V,i^ fhe a tentVon of o"r "f it all is that I can now do my day's work quicker and

!3h.S?i He go" in °he with much less effort, simply because my mind .orb

GbTtS calling me in when- like a f!a=h and I do not have to keep stopping to l«.k

fhe" biLi^JL'"' ir^e'l"' All'thi^is extremely satisfying to me. of course. But

the busioes^ ,'" °'..y„u ,he best part of it all is that since my memory power

pressed himself •» ■".'■ »°," g„, ^itracted the attention of our president, my salary

T., I Jam o know while hos steadily been increased." Today it is many bme.

Thl^otheT fellows annoy me greater than it was the day Macdonald got me ..u,e«ed

by dodging out of the office m improving my memory.

?*jM .^^Hk. and saying 'I'll look it up.' " '".*.'... ^ , ■

■^^ ^^^^^ ' . . . ^ I THAT Macdonald told me that erenffnl erernng

Ipni-Nn that m» ability VV «" <^"' "''" '*" R""" Memory Course." I did.

,o remembe? h^'Jd n,e ' * That is how I learned to do all the remarkable

wondeTfi^lv in ^ling thing, I have told you about. The publishers of the

.iT !^rhJr neoolT mVHcu- Kofh Memor. Course-lhe Independent Corporapon-are

with .°'h" 1P~P''- J!"^^^" „ confident that it will also show you how lo develon a

Ivi'en'a d1"u«!oS "A». S remarkable memory that the, will gladly send the Coar«

'L'l ^"nU^SckW '".rX '': '"Vr ne'edTo?:^' a single penny un.il vou ha,e ex_

'^^r of de^nUe fact, and amined .he Course and found that it full, bves up to al

fiJi^f, usnaflv dom nllJ, the the claims made for it. Send no money. Merely ma.1

^ T^e .nSHme^nin ihc couoon or write a letter, and the complete CourK

oUiers. Time and lime agmn lue . instantlv. all charge, prepaid. If

L^'of "hinkiSr^^^pTy T- ;7ter e«mi\iat°or"ou deciiS; l^t yordS n"^ wan.

' I ™;winl.:.nM; recall to keep the Course, then return it and you will owe

?'T „.Sfiile, While l"m nothing. On the other hand, if you find, as thousand.

„f„,;d;?f^ triumphs in 'f others have found, that the Roth Memory Course wiU

.. • u. Ku resnecr I often fee" do wonders for you, then merely send five dollars in

ed me on altvays bong able this f/spect. 1 olten leei m

,. he u^anted to *.««-." '?X Xr „'" wh'^S YoS^tove always -anted •» good memory. No- yoo

of the other men wno <»"»»■ . ■ Remember, you pay no money unbl yoa

hold an their end in the argument becauje •>•" canno '^'^.^^i:^,^ that"™ C^irl: -Si benefit you. You ha«

recall facts instantly. It seems as 'h?""* ' "J^'T. ""' evervtbing to gain and nothing lo lose by taking imme-

get anything. Every '»« .J. ";°" P." ^2 iTonS U -e?e diate arton So mail the coupon NOW before thi.

clear and as easy to recall ■?«;""'"'??"«'' " "" hheral offer is withdrawn.

teriK^v Wfore mr in plain black and wdhc. , . , „ „.„„

wVallTeai a lot about the importance of sound jud*- FRKK EXAMINATION COrPON^^^_^^

».*«» Pmnlc who ouaht to know say that a man cannot «••« — ■. — — ---<•-- — --

^% tr^jircs^ s^ufd judgment until he is forty to INDEPENDENT CORPORATION

fifty years of age But I have duP'or;?^ >» «»t 1 r,bll.l,OT .f Tk. I>d«pradr»t W»*It

have found that sound judgment i, "o">'°# "JTS '".S Uepl. K-S71. Il» Wert Wth Slre»«. !««» ¥«fc.

'*'eh"S'V,Si1,rv'?s're'^Li''o"«uid7udSeo"t° 'l Please send me the Roth Memory Course of seven

each """V,;. "!^° but many times I have been compli les«,ns. I will either remail the Course to you within

m°^^rf^? Sl'vi^g Ihe ird|^er;t of a man of forty five. fi„ ,|,y, after it, rcceio. or send you $S in full pa.vmen.

?"ke no p^^l creditor thi»-it is all due to the „f the Course.

way I trained my memory. .. ,_,

' »•••••• natmr

TuE-QF irf ooW a few of the hundred* of way* I ha^Vofited by Hiy'^ned memory. «»•»»«''*. Address I sufle- the humiliation of meeting ■»»» ' '"'•"•"f M. P Clasnc 1-20

not being able to reeaU their namev fh. moment I Ke

-^and they both

show the same pictures f

WHETHER you attend a million-dollar palace of the screen in the hig dty, or a tiny hall in a backwoods hamlet, you will find that it is always the best and most prosperous theatre in the communi^ that is exhibiting Paramount Artcraft Pictures.

It does not matter whether you arrive in a limousine, a jitney, on trolley or afoot, you are immediately taken out of yourself by these great pictures which delight so many thousands of audiences every day in the week.

Human nature has deep-down similarities wherever you find it, and Famous Players-Lasky Corporation has made the bigger and better theatres possible by supplying a great variety of photo-plays which touch the roots of human nature with absolute certaint>'.

A theatre cannot be better than the pictures it shows. Good music, wide aisles, luxurious seating and fine presentation have all naturally followed as the appropriate setting for Paramount Artcraft Pictures.

Find the theatre or theatres in any town that show Paramount Artcraft Pictures, and you have found the spots where time flies.

paramount Cuicrcdt

Jiotion pictures

Tbcse two trade-marks are the sure way of ideuUfying raramoutUAncraft Pictures— and the theatres that show them.

Latest Paramount Artcraft Pictures

BUlie Burke in

"WANm> A HUSBAITD**

Btfad Clayton sm

*^OKE Deaely Than the Malm." Mmrzaentc Clark in

**A Giu. Named MAmr" Irene Castlem

*nrHE Invisible Bond" Cecil B. DcMiUe's Productioii

**Maix and Female" "Everywoman** Whfa All Star Cast Elaie Ferfoson m

**Coo kte«feit" Dorothy GUh in

•TumKiNG THE Tables" D. W. Griffith Production

"ScAJULBT Days" Wm. S. Hart t»

"Saicd" Hondini in

"The Geim Game" Vivian Martin in

'*His Official Fiancee" Wallace Reid in

"Hawthokne of the U. S. A," Haurice Toameur*s Production

"Victory" Georee Loane Tucker's Production

"The Mimacle Man" Robert Warwick in

"An Adventitke in Heakts" Biyant Waihbum tM

**It Pays to Advertise" 'The Teeth of the Titer**

With a Star Cast •Tlie Miracle erf Love**

A Cosmopolitan Production^ **The Cinema Murder"

A Cosmopolitan Production

pMwIwcft

Thomam H. in

Kiid Bennett in

••What Evehy Woman Leakhs" Dorothy Dalton m

"His Wife's JF«iekd" "2Z% Hours' Leave- Douglas MacLean & Doris May Charles Ray »h

"Ceooked Stkaight"

P^tratnount Comcdie*

Paramount-Arbuckle Comedies

one every other month Paramonnt-Msck Sennett Comedies

tmo each month Paramount-Al St. John Comedies

one each month Paramount-Ernest Truex Comedies

one each month

Panauoani Short Sa^ifa

Paramonnt MaEaztne issued weekly Paramoimt-Post Nature IHctures

issued every other week Paramount-Burton Hohncs Travel

Pictures one each week

EMbfOQS FLAarERS-LASrar OQRFCXBAIION

(Four)

Write the Words For a Song

Write the words for a song. We revise song-poems, compose music for them, and guarantee to secure publication on a royalty basis by a New York music pub- lisher. Our Lyric Editor and Chief Com- poser is a song-writer of national reputa- tion and has written many big song-hits. Mail your song-poem on love, peace, vic- tory or any other subject to us today. Poems submitted are examined free.

BROADWAY COMPOSING STUDIOS

H7-ERvnU tt^^tnmiwmr aarHM>S«nn. NEW TOU

Vi.I. IX

JANUARY, 1920

KTATEMENT OT THE OWNEKSinP MaNACKUKNT. flll- Cm-ATION. ETC-. REQUIRED BY THE AlT <1K rONUJUlittr &r AUCCBT 24. 191X «« MOTION I'HTUKE t L-VSSU: puli UMbtd MONTHLT at 175 DCEFIELD «T.. BKOOKLYX. X. T.. ror OCTOBER 1. 1«5L SUte of NEW YORK, rnoiitT of KIX*;». Bffon me, m. NOTARY PUBLIC in mml for Uu- Mtate ■ml' cooBtr afonsaM. pnsaaaOr AptH-aml ECUENE V. BREWSTER, wto. h ■¥»■*> been duly nrani acccnUnc to law. tlepotM^ au<l Baj» that, he is Ui» rREEEDENT of ihf 3J0TION PlCTl^KE CLASSIC •mi that the foUtMriac is. to tht best cf his knovlctlce and brtkf. a trot 5tatwr«M of Ute ownrrahip. managwnrat (and U « daily paiwr. the drmJatlon). ete., trf the iforesaid publiratkn f(V the date sbbwti in the alxne caption, rrquimi by tbc Act of Aiwwl a. 1912. atfbofhcd tn section 443, Postal Laws uid Rccu- IM*****, prilled on the reversp oT lbt« fonn. to wit: L That the iiafi md addreaan «C the pnUislier, nittor. -'■'■-^'"g «tiilar, and hvinoa manners «c: PobtLibn-. THE M. P. PUBLISH- ING COl. 175 DuflMd St., BrmUju. N. T.. ICditor. EUCSXE r. BREWSTKR. 175 Dafflrid St.. BrDoUyn. N. T.. 3fanasfaw EOiKv FREDERICK J. SMRII. 175 Xtaffletd St.. BrooUjm. N. T.. Bnatecn BCanaccr. GUT U HARRINGTON. ITTi Dafflrid St.. Brookljn. K. T.. 2. That the ovum ur: (Gir<f> namrs and addrcavrs of indiildaal owners, or if a conioralion. cive its nama and the maaMS and addrewn at itoridiolden o»ntoc or hoMing 1 per ctnt or move of tlw total aBoant t£ Moefc) EUGENE T. BREWSTER. 175 DafBtid St.. Bmidni. N. T.. EDWDC M, LA ROCHE. 175 Ditfeld SL, Bnvoklyn. X. T.. ALBERT E. SMITH. E. 15Ui St.. and Loraat Awe., ^ooUrn. NL T.. EUZA- BKTTH'M. HEIXEMANN. 175 Duffletd St.. BRMkljn. JX. T.. ELEANOR V. BREWSTER. 175 DnSeld St., BMoUyn. K. T.„ WM. ROCK. K. ISth St., SMl Lonnt Ave., Bmhlim. K. T., GASTOX MELI^. 32S Lexincton Ave.. New Tork Citr. 3. That Ibe known baBdholder&. BDrtcasrts. and other semiitT halders ewninK w hofcHng I |per ecnx or aaorv of total anoont bond». ■oetcn^it or other seraiities atv: flf there an none, an Male) NONE. 4. That the two paracrapba next abow, ctrinc the names of the awneni, storkhoMevn, and aecoritj bolden. tf tma. eootaln not onlj the iKt <J stockholders and aeranty holden ■K they avpear upon the books of the eompanj. bat abo in caaea wheie the stockholdas or aecoritT holdos appear upon the books of Oie company as tzvstee or in anr other OdndarT relation, the name of tlw pcraon or cmpuratfon for whom sorh tmatee is setinc' ia siren: abn thai the said two paracrsphs cootain Btatcments ewheaitpg ananfs fnJI knowledce and belief aa to the ctonna- ataners and eondltiaas ander which <itorUiolder<i and secvrtty botders who do not appear opon the books of the company as tnatees. hohl atork and aemrlties In a rapacity other than that of a bona tide onmer; and this ailiaDt has no reason to bellenf thM anr other iiersoh. aasoriatloa. or cnrporaliou bas any in- terest cUrect or indirect in the said Btork. hoods, or other aeenr- fttes than as so statevl by bfm. 5, That the areracc nwnber «f ee|d<s of eneii tmne of this poMScatioD mid nr <ILitrilMiled throuch the mails or otherwfae. to paid subscriber* diuiac the all moaitln imudlut the date shown aboR' ia^fTTiU informtfon to re- unbed from daOy pnbUcatiana otdy). EircEXE T. BREWSTER. (Slsnataiv of editor. pnUtsher, bostnesa ntanacrr, or owner). Sworn to and nhocTibed ttefore me this 29tb da* of September. 1»19. K M. HEINEMANN. iXj comntisaion expirvs Uarcb 3». 1919.)

llfllllllllllilliliW

Tdephone 5499 Bfain

cfhe

IDm. q. tietuitt r— Press "•■" —i

PRINTERS

and

BINDERS

Sfarty-ooe to Sixty-seven Navy St. BrocAlyn, N.Y.

20 22

24

28

THE GIRL ON THE COVER

(Painled by Leo Strike, Jr., from a photograph by Campbell Sludioi.) Probably no player who has yet graced the silversheet has ever received the vast publicity campaign accorded Marion Davies, the star of International pictures.

Miss Davies, it will be recalled, was very well known on the musical comedy stage before she invaded the celluloid world with "Runaway Romany." Widely known as a footlight beauty. Miss Davies proved to be a remarkable Camera beauty, as welL She has been steadily developing in the 61ms. Photogravure Gallery of Players. Full page studies of" Pace

Lou-Tellegen. Mary Miles Minter, Corinne Griffith,

May Allison 'and June Caprice 11-15

Bartfaelmcss: The Boy. A composite study of the beloved

Yellow Man of "Broken Blossoms" Frederick James Smttk lo

The Youngest of the House o' Ha in stem. Elaine is the

junior of a famous family C. BIythe Sherwood IB

The Owner of the "Uncaa." No other than John Bowers,

who is one of our few seagoing leading men. . EHaibeth Peltret

The Amazing Interview. An infomuU littltv chat with the

real Norma Talmadge Failh Service

An OU-Fashioned GirL The happy life of Mary Maclvor

and her hubbv. William Desmond FrUzi Remont

The Holidays in the Theaters. The footlight successes at

Christmas time '■■' 26

On Vamps and VanqMng. Dorothy Green tells what she

thinks of the screen adventuress Ethel Rosemon

If I Were King. WiUiarti Famum's newest romantic pho- toplay told in interesting fiction form OSve Carerv 25

Krich Von Strobeim and the Miracle. The story of the man who a short time ago was a life-saver on Lake

Tahoe Maude S. Cheatham 34

The Director-Diplomat. Edward Jose, master statesman

of the studio Mary Keene 36

The Cinema Comes to Carleton. A breezy chat with

William, Jr.. Elsie Ferguson's leading man Harrirlte Vnderhill 31

The Gorgeoos (Horia 38

Victory. Short story based upon the silverscreen version

of Joseph Conrad's famous novel Faith Servtce 39

At the World's Foremost Screen Theater. Interesting

scenes at the New York Capitol Theater 44

The Hidden Egyptian. The vivid Edith Storey and her

return to the world of motion pictures Elizabeth Peltret

Marie: the Mystic Marie Walcamp and her odd vein of

mysticism Fritxi Remoni

The Girl From Ont Yonder. Fictionized version of Olive

Thomas' newest screen vehicle Dorothy Domnell

Double Exposures Conducted by F. J. S.

The Cellnloid Critic The newest photoplays in review. .

Frederick James Smith

Filming Treasure Islatid

The Riddle Man. Meaning William Russell Pearl Mahem

An Earle and His- Dixnain. Mr. Williams in Snnny Cali- fornia

Look for the Last Minute Features in the Advertising Section.

Subscription. $2.50 a yrar. in advaocr, indndtar postaiEC in the U. S., Cuba, Mexico, and Philippfnes^ in Canada, $3.00 a year; in foreign cowitrica, $3.50. Single cOfMcs. 25 cents, postage prepaid. One- and two-cent stamps accepted. Sabscriliers ranst notify ns at once ot aMj change of address, giring both old and new address.

Entered at the Brooklra. N. Y_ Poat OCce a< Seomd.cIaaa Matter. CopTright, 1919, br the M. P. PnbEskiiig Co., in tke Dniled Slates and Great Britain, a New York corporation, with its princmal oSces at ^yshore^ N. Y. Eogene V. Brewster, President; J. Stnart RUil.ton, Vice-President; Gay 1.. Harrington, Vice-President; E. M. Hcineamm, Sccrctarr; ElcaBor V. V. Brewster, Treasorer. "

STAFF FOB THE CLASSIC: '

■Ttinli ▼. Brewitar. WIl.i

F»«<Mh> I- n»lll. Maai^ctaw EdH«^

Dorothy Donnell, Robert J. Shores, Friizi Renoot Associate Editors

Gay L. Harrington Business Manager

Duncan A. Dobie, Jr Dtrcctor of Advertising

Rufns French, Inc . Eastern Manager

.Archer A. King, Inc Western Manager

Mriz B. Hayes \rw Enfland Manafer

46

48

50

55

56 38 59

60

m

(rite)

Thj^ Buca^nv, pablisiied monthly, comes o«t on the 15th. Its cMcr sastcr, the MonOM PicnniK Macazibk, ciMBcs out'oD the first of ctct7 month. Swabowluiv appears oo the 23tA ot each mfth.

tntnung^/Tiitiiorshtp

^^"^"^ ftjWteWrftie.WlurftoWrile. and Where io sell.

CiAnUe yov •muL DnUop yowr wktr^ry nfts. Notawr the «vt of a^-ci^mtfsion. Moks IKMT «pat« Hna* pro^^ddble. Ivm ycvr id#a< mlo 3oILn«. Coursea in Short -Story Writ- iocVeraiBcation, Joumabsm, Play Writing, Photoplay Writing etc, taufbt pcnoa-

Dr.E5«nWein al»y by Dr. J. Bert E«=nwein.

lar many y«ar* etfitor of Lippincott'i Mae^xine, and

■ ataff of hter^ry experts. Coostructrre critiasm.

Frank, honest, helpful mAvicc. /fc^ tcMJiing.

%0ritimg mtamw.

. otfacT loatitubaB or atB^BCy doinc ao mocb for

[ or old. The tsuv^raitia reoocnuc thim. for over

laba-i oi tbc ^''^g*^* CToitira al tucbcT Bubto-

c umiyg^ IB Ota- Utcnry DcpTtinent- Tbc editors

c it.(ar they ■«<

Xfif Home Cbrrespoiuknce Sdiool

Dcpt. 1 1 2. SpringfieLd, MoAS.

fflMIMIWffrMITW-

PAINTING

AND

SKETCHING

CELECT your own

^ subject — love, patriotism

— write what the heart dictate^

then submit yoor poem to us.

We write tbe mcomic and wamrmattee: pwbliefc-

Our

compoeer ■

Mr. Leo Friedman

one erf A]Berica*B wcO^known muticiati*. die aathor al ouoT •OBC «uixij»L». audi as "Mmt M4t TomgU m l>F»i»ili *.- "Ul Ut CmU Yam SmtHmml." 'Whtm I Dnmm t<OU EHm," and othen the niei

ml wtlt^ tmm itm mi «t CTi»»«i

■■ r«B wMl »Mi*t o»tov. Ova ■

Stage Plays That Are Worth While

(Readers in distant towns will do well to preser\e this list for reference when these spoken plays appear in their vicinity.)

TRK Imm Ulnd Sctool of An offen cxCfOcal CiaMaB !• a^Mtnui and mn atDiloits. Our oitcai iBMJUMkn HtMlnale* tht tlBV^«ani r Io niiiiiumi I la luidjrapr pslm- Ms. PVOi w laatrwd IB a uctmlqiM bom nited to tkHr liM>inw in and ■Ulltj. « iTAfvi wUdI wlU i^Htv ^n III, an all year armscti allow tba ■ ■■hall to bcKlB tb«lr coarse at ajij Umt. Ow dtr ■■MIM Bi« alwaja oven to our pupUa li* crlUdak «i. aailmta wbhtnc to Bl«r ax our U 1- atudloa for A* MMI^KV. wtu find ezcellou tioardlrK ixar-lv- rnwiH* aotlal affair* will Ivinc tlica In pef^aoal iiaail wlKk ^nj cT «v aaat favaM sftlila. Addna

LONG ISLAND SCHOOL Or AR.T

I7SJ7 5-177 I>uffl«U St. Bnkoklrn. N.Y.

I ^jfor. — Fay Bainter in "East U West." The I story of a quaint little Chinese maid who falls in love with a 30ung American. Racial bar- riers seem insurmountable, but there is a hap- I py and surprising ending. Has all the ingredi- I cnts of popular drama. Miss Bainter is pic- I turesqucly pleasing.

I Century. — "Aphrodite." Highly colored and lavish presentation of a drama based upon Pierre Louys' exotic novel of ancient Alexan- dria. Superbly staged adaptation of the play [ that cau.sed a sensation in Paris. Dorothy I Dalton, the screen star, returns to the sUge in I the principal role of the Galilean courtesan. I Chrvsis. and scores. McKay Morris is ad- ! mirable in the principal male role. The ballet, directed by Michel Fokine, is spirited and colorful.

Cohan and Harris.— "The Royal Vagabond " A Cohanizrd opera comique in every sense of the words. A tuneful operetta pins Cohan ?peed. pep and brash American humor. .\lso tinkling music And a corking cast, with Grace llsher, Tessa Kosta, John Goldsworthy and Frederick Santley.

Cosmo.— "The Little WTiopper." Lively and amusing musical comedv with tuneful score by Rudolf Friml. Vi^enne Segal pleasantly heads the cast, which also numbers Harry C. Browne, who does excellent work, Mildred Richardson, and W. J. Ferguson.

Comedy.— "Uy Lady Friends." Highly amusing entertainment adopted from a Conti- nental farce. Much of the humor is due to the able work of Qifton Crawford in the role o£ a guileless young manufacturer of Bibles whose efforts to spend money get him into all sorts of difficulties. June Walker scores in Mr. Crawford's support

Eltingc— "The Girl in the Limousine." A daring, boudoir farce, by Wilson CoUison and Avery Hopkins, centering about a bed, which is invaded by every member of the cast during the evening. John Cumberland is very amus- ing, and prett>' Doris Kenyon, fresh from the screen, lends every aid.

George M. Colian's. — Elsie Janis and her gang. Lively entertainment built about the experiences of the A. E. F. on the other side. Well put together by Miss Janis, who shines with decided brightness. A pleasant entertain- ment.

Clobe. — "Apple Blossoms." The ambitious and much heralded operetU of Fritz Kreisler and Victor Jacobi, plus colorful Joseph Urban settings. An offering far above the musical average. John Charles Thomas sings admira- bly. Wilda Bennett is an attractive heroine and Florence Shirley lends a piquant person- ality to the proceedings.

Hippodrome. — "Happy Days." Big and spec- tacular production t>-p<cal of the Hippodrome. The diving girls are again a feature, disporting in the huge "Hip" tank.

//•«<xoii.— "Clarence " Booth Taddngton's delightful comedy, built about the way a re- turned soldier reunited a disturbed but typic- ally American household. Superb perform- ances by Alfred Lunt, Glenn Hunter and Helen Hayes give the comedy a fine verve.

//ofTii. -"Wedding Bells." A light and highly amusing comedy by Salisbury Field. \dmirahly written and charmingly played by Margaret Lawrence and Wallace Eddinger. One of the things you should see.

Henry Miller's. — "Moonlight and Honey- suckle." Ruth Chatterton in a charming comedy that might have been a big hit had the playwright taken full advantage of some Splen- did situations in the last act. As it is, it starts like a hare and ends like a tortoise.

Maiine Ellioll's. — "The Unknown WoniaiL" .\ very emotional melodrama with Marjorie Rambcau in Bendel gowns and tears. Jean Robertson contributes a vivid bit as a "dope."

Morcsco. — "Civilian Oothes." A delightful comedy to please evcr\-body. Brand new idea and cle\'erl}' worked out. Thurston Hall in

the title role shares the honors with beautiful Olive Tell. Suppc.rt excellent.

P/oy/iOujc— "Palmy Day>." A picturesque drama by Augustus Thomas, in which Milton Lackaye does the finest work of his career since "Jim the Penman."

Plyiiioiilh.~"The Jest," Arthur Hopkins production of Sem Benelli's colorful and grip- ping Florentine drama. John and Lionel Bar- rymore arc again seen in their original roles. An admirable cast and Robert Edmund Jones' settings lend splendid aid.

Princess. — "Nightie Night." Described by the program as a "wide awake farce," "Nightie Night" lives up to its billing. It has plenty of verve, ginger, and some daring. There are scores of laughs. Heading the very adequate cast are Francis Byrne, Suzanne Willa, Mal- colm Duncan and Dorothy Mortimer.

Shuberi. — ^"The Magic Melody." A "roman- tic musical play" with a tuneful score and a picturesque Willy Pogany setting. Charles Purcell, Fay Marbe, Julia Dean, Earl Ben- ham and Carmel Meyers, the last two well known to the screen, head the cast.

Tliirly-ninth .Street Theater.— "'Scandsi," Cosmo Hamilton's daring drama which Con- stance Talmadge played on the screen. Fran- cine Larrimore and Charles Cherry have the leading r6!es in the excellent footlight produc- tion.

ON TOLIR

"Ah Exchange of Wives." Another Cosmo Hamilton comedy which, however, never at- tains the spontaneity or piquancy of "Scan- dal." The chief blush-inducer is a scene on a sleeping porch. ,

"See-Saw." — A pleasant musical entertain- ment. The delightful Elizabeth Hines stands out and Dorothy Mackaye is pleasantly cast.

"She Would and She Did." Grace George in a light (very light) comedy founded on a little hole in the golf links which Grace angrily made, resulting in her suspension from the -club for two months. Society and golf folks will probably find this an entertaining little play.

E. H. Sothcm and Julia Marlowe in Shakespearean repertoire. These artists rep- resent the best traditions of our theater and their revivals of "Twelfth Night," "Hamlet," and "The Taming of the Shrew," are distin- guished in every sense of the word.

"The Better 'Olc." The Cxibum production of the musical comedy based upon Bruce Baimsfather's new immortal cartoon creation. Old Bill Mr. Cobum's characterization of Bill is still as remarkable as e\Tr.

"A Lonely Romeo," with Lew Fields. A lii^t show running in the usual groove. Frances Cameron, who is developing remarka- bly, is the bright figure of "A Lonely Romeo." while Mr. Fields is hisJuunorous self. There's a decidedly funny scene in a men's hat shop.

"Chn Chin Chow." An opulent and beautiful musical extrax-aganza based upon the Arabian Nights tale of Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves. Dazzling series of sensuous stage pictures. "Oiu CMn Chow" is presented this year with an entirely new edition and new costumes. Marjorie Wood makes a colorful desert woman, Lionel Braham is very effective as the robber sheik and Eugene (Towles makes the role of steward stand out. George Rosely plays the young lover admirably.

"La La Lucille." Musical comedy built around the efforts of a loving couple to ar- range a divorce in order to live up to the lerms of a millionaire aunt's will. A co- respondent is engaged and troubles begin. John E. Hazzard and Janet Velie play the would-be divorcees, while Marjorie Bentley and Helen Oark give able assistance. Light sonuner en- tertainment

The Shuberi Gaieties of igig. A lively revue /with scores of statuesque girls and sttmning frocks. A decidedly attractive entertainment.

MOTION PICTURE CLASSIC

"John Ferguson." A straight drama ihat compares favorably with anything of the kind that New York has seen for years. Beauti- fully staged and acted. Masterpieces of tliis kind should be liberally patronized to encour- age others.

George White's "Scandals of 1919." All sorts and \^riations of dancing make up for a lack of story or humor. The real star is piquant little Ann Pennington — as seductive a little iazzer as ever shimmied on Broadway. Then there's the lively dancing of Mr. White himself.

"Friendly Enetmes." This is the record- breaking comedy drama of last se^ott, with Louis Mann in his original role.

"At 9:45" An absorbing melodrama by Owen Davis. One of those thrillers in which every one in the cast is suspected of murder until the hiial curtain. Marie Goff proves to be a genuine discovery as the heroiue, and an excellent emotional performance is given by Edith Sha>'ne.

"Three Wise Fools." Austin Strong's hu- man little drama of three crusty old bachelors who are bequeathed a young woman and who are subsequently rejuvenated. Melodrama with a heart throb. Helen Menken gives a striking performance of the nerve-racked hero- ine, while Claude Gillingwater is a delightfully testy old Teddy Findl'-v.

"She's a Good Fellow." A light but pleasant musical comedy built about the efforts of old folks to break up a marriage between a loving 3'oung couple. Joseph Santley is a likeable lover-husband, masquerading in skirts for a whole act Iv>' Sawyer, the very pleasing Ann Orr and Scott Welsh lend delightful assist- ance.

"Listen, Lester" Lively, dancy show with considerable humor. Cast includes Gertrude Vianderbilt, Clifton Webb. Ada Lewis, Ada Mae Weeks and E^die Garvie.

"39 East" A charming comedy founded on a boarding school romance in which many in- teresting characters make love-making difiicult for a pair of j'oung lovers.

. "Up in Mabel's Room." Piquant, daring but decidedly amusing farce built about the pursuit of a dainty pink undergarment which bears the same name as a recent jazz dance. Admirable cast, including the radiant Hazel Dawn. "Up in Mabel's Room*' is an admirable example of well-knit farce.

"The Unknown Purple." Interesting and well sustained thriller. The story of a convict who discovers a way to make himself invisible, transforming into a purple ray, and who starts out to get revenge- The invisible man steals necklaces, opens safes and passes thru doors. Richard Bennett gives a vigorous performance of the human ray.

"Take It From Me" A comedy with music, in which a sporty young man falls heir to a department store and runs it according to the latest musical comedy methods.

"Three Faces East." Another Secret Ser- vice-German spy drarti^ this one by Anthony Paul Kelly, one of our most successful photo- playwrights. The principal charm of this play is in trying to guess who are the German spies and who arc the Allies, just as we were puzzled in ''Cheating Cheaters" to know who were burglars and who were not.

LEADING PICTURE THEATERS.

Loew's N. V. and Loew's American Roof. — Photoplays; first runs. Daily program.

Loea/s Metropolitan . Brooklyn. — Feature photoplays and vaudeville.

Riz'oli. — ^De luxe photoplays with full sym- phony orchestra- Weekly program.

Rialto. — Photoplays supreme. Program changes every week.

Strand. — Select first-run photoplays. Pro- gram changes even,' week.

Capitol. — Special screen prtKluctions phis a de luxe "demi-tasse" revue. An extraor- dinarily beautiful playhouse.

(Seven)

AN APOLOGY AND AN EXPLANATION

On October ist, 1919, practically all of the printers and type- setters in and around New York went out on strike, including those who print this magazine. Without going into the merits of the controversy between the employers and the employees, we will simply say that we had no voice in the matter one way or the other. Several labor unions had differences among them- selves, and these differences caused the Publishers' Association to refuse to comply with the demands of certain labor unions. We do not belong to the Publishers' Association. That body conducted all the negotiations. When the printers and com- positors walked out, it was not in our power to make them walk back, even if we had been willing to give them everything they asked. Had we terms with one union, another union would have refused to handle our paper, and another union would have refused to make the plates which are necessary for us to have. In other words, our hands were tied. We were helpless. Some publications were fortunate enough to have some of their printing done for them in distant cities, some had it done by some other process (such as typewriting photographed) and some could not have their work done at all. The strike did not end until the latter part of November, having lasted nearly two months.

During this time we did everything possible to supply our readers with this, their favorite magazine, on time and in good condition, but such was not possible. We left no stone unturned and were willing to go to any expense, but in spite of every effort, we were unable to meet the schedule, hence we were late. Furthermore, the magazine that you received was not the one we intended to give you. When the strike came on, this magazine was partly made up and partly printed, but we were unable to move either the type or the parts that had been printed. We managed to get out a MAGAZINE, but it was not the kind of magazine we wanted, it was the best we could. We could not even print an explanation and an apology, hence this one. We hoped, and still believe, that all of our esteemed readers, even those in distant parts, had heard of the great tie-up strike and that they would patiently wait. Some of our contemporaries took advantage of our extremities by issuing extra large editions on an advanced date, hoping thereby to secure some of our readers, instead of extending us the brotherly hand and saying, "Is there anything we can do for you in your distress?" We hope that they have largely profited by their business sagacity, but we be- lieve that we have not lost a single reader. Once a reader always a reader.

We are now fully recovered from the disaster and from now on our readers may expect the finest magazine possible We have done this for ten years and we can do it now. WATCH US.

THE M. P. PUBLISHING CO.

Why Do People Like

AV^Uiam S. Hart and Dorothy Dalton

WHY is Dorotfav Dalton so well loved by her follower? Why does William S. Han attract and hold the admiration of almost every one? They both know the secret of nuking people Ukc them.

If DoToth) Dalton and William S. Hart can do the thing that makes themselves liked by ihe most cosmopolitan audience in the world — people the>- never see — think how much easier it will be for yon to master this ability — win the confidence and liking of the people with whom yoo come in ccmtict.

You too can have the power of making people like yoo. For by the same method used by Dr. Illackford in analyzing Miss Dalton and Mr. Hart, yoo can, at a glance, tell the char- acteristics of any man, woman or child^ell instantb their likes and dislikes, and YOU CA.\ M.\KE PEOPLE LIKE YOU. Here is how n :s done.

Everyone you know can be placed in one of two general types— blond or bmnet. There is jts big a difference between the characteristics of a blnnd and those of a bnmet as there is between night and day. You persuade a blond in one way a hmnct in another. Klonds en- joy one phase of Ufe- bnmets another. Blends make good in one kind of job — bruncts in oae entirely dilTerenL

To know these differences scientifically is ^e first step in judging men and women; in getting: on with them; imtstering their minds; in making thenf like you; m winning their respect, admiration, kive and friendship.

And when yon have learned these differ- eiicr»— when yon an tell at a glance just what to do and say to make any man or woman Hkc yju, yoor success in life is assured.

What Dr. Blackford Says

{Partial OMOlysit tmade frorm Photog rapks\

Miss Dalton has'a particDlarly fine physical iirganization. She belongs to the vital-motiTe trpc. Note the roundness of her features and tlic fullness of her figure. Tlie motive qualities show in Uie squareness of her face in full front view, and in the graceful poses and movements of her body. She lias splendid recuperative power. This gives vivacity, responsive energies, warmth and enthusiasm of nature.

Miss Dalton is distinctly feminine in type. Note the slightly concave nose, tilted up at the end, the soft cnrves of her face and body, and the cnpid^low lips. Feminine characteristics are further shown in her lar^e, soulful eyes, her long, curling lashes, and the subtle humor and coquetry m her facial ex- pressioo.

Miss Dalton belongs to the convex type, with the exception of the nose, which is plane tending to concave. Convexity of features indicates keeilness, quick responses, quickness in action and directness in speech. These qualities Miss Dalton manifests in her quick responsiveness to conditions of environ- ment, in her quick comprehension of artistic values and her readiness to iKake the most of a dtamatic situaticm.

She is very emotional and strongly sentimental, and appeals to- these qualities in her audience. One loves Dorothy Dalton because she has the alt of winning yooT affecticm through her heart appeaL

Paul Graham was a blond, and not until He had learned that Ihere was all the difference in the worM between the characteristics of a blond and those of a bnmet did he discover the secret of making people like him.

Paul had been keeping books for years for a large corporation which had branches all over tlie country. It was generally thought by his associates that he would never rise above that iob. He had a tremendous ability with figures — could wind them around his little finger — but he did not have the ability to mix with big men ; did not know how to make people like him.

What Miss Dalton's Manacer Says:

Then one day the impossible happened. Paul Graham became popular. Business'men of im- portance who had formerly given him only a passing ncd of acquaintance suddenly showed a desire for his friendship. People — even strangers — actually went out of their way to do things for him. Even he was astoimdcd at his new power over men and women. Not only conid he get them to do what he wanted them to do, bat they actually anticipated his wishes and seemed eager to please him.

From the day the change took place, he began to go up in business. Now he is the Head Anditor for his corporation at an im- mense increase in salary. And all this came to him simply because be learned the secret of making people like him.

Another example — the case of a large maim- facturing concern. Trouble sprang up at one of the factories. The men taSced strike. Things looked ugly. Harry Winslow was sent to straighten it out. On the eve of a general walkout, he pacified the men and headoi off the strike. And not only this, but ever since then, that factory has led all the others for prodoction. He was able to do this, because he knew bow to make these men like him and to do what he wanted them to do.

Another case, entirely different, is that of Henry Peters. Because of his ability to make people like him — his faculty for "getting under the skin" and making people think his way, he was given the position of Assistant to the President of a large firm. Two other men, both well liked by their fellow employees, had each expected to get the job. So when the outside man. Peters, came in, he was looked upon by everyone as an interloper and was openly disliked by every person in the office.

Peters was handicapped in every way. But in spite of that in three weeks he had made fast friends of cvcrytme in the house and had even won over the two men who had been .most bitter against him. The whole secret is that he could tell in an instant how to appeal to any man and make himself well Hked.

(Kigkt)

A certein woman who had this ability moved with her family to another town. As IS often the case, it was a very difficult thing for any woman to break into the chill circle of society in this town if she was not known. But her ability to make people like her soon won for her the close friendship of many of the "best families" in the town. Some people wonder how she did it It was simply the secret af work — ^the secret of judging people's characters and making them like you.

You realize of course that just knowing the difference between a blond and a brunet could not accomplish all these wonderful things. There are other things to be taken into ac- count. But here is the whole secret.

You know everyone does not think alike. What one likes another dislikes. And what offends one pleases another. Well, there is your cue. You can make an instant "hit" with anyone if you say the things they want TOU to say and act the way they wani'you to - act Do this and they will surely like you and believe in you and go miles out of their wav to PLEASE YOU.

You can do this easily by knowing certain simple signs. In addition to the difference in complexion eveo' man, woman and child has written on them signs as distinct as though ihey were in letters a foot high, which show yon from one qnick glance exactly what to say and to do to please them — to get them to believe — ^to think as you think — ^to do exactly what yon want them to do.

As tmerringly as Dr. Blackford has told the characteristics of Miss Dalton and Mr. Hart yon can tell the weak and strong points of character in everyone you meet.

Ill knowing these .'•imple signs is the whole secret of getting what you want out of lifc-r making friends of business and social advani. tage. Every great leader uses this method- That is why he IS a leader. Use it yourself and you will quickly become a leader — noth- ing can stop yoiL

You have heard before of Dr. Blackford •he Charaaer Analyst Dr. Blackford's de- velopment and application of the science of Character Analy^sis has been built «on a sohd foundation of direct professional study of all kinds of men and women. After years of ex- ten.sive consulting work among business con- cerns, merchants, manufacturers. Chambers of Commerce, and trade associations. Dr. Black- ford made a trip around the world, observing widely different races, comparing notes with leading specialists of forty nations, comparing theories with such famous authorities as Al- fred Haddon, Metchnikoff and Giuseppe Sergi, and studying the exhaustive records of Ber- tillon. So Dr. Blackford's store of ideas in the realm of human relations has become probably the most carefully arranged exhibit of facts on cliaracter stndv in the United States. " .

It is not surprising, therefore, that many concerns will not employ a man without first getting Dr. Blackford to pass on hmi. Con- cerns such as Westinghouse Electric and Manufacturing- Company. Baker- Vawter Com- pany, the Lanrentide Company, Ltd., and many others^ pay Dr. Blackford large annual lees for advice on dealing with human nature.

So great was the demand foi- these service*, that Dr. Blackford could not even begin to fill an the engagements. So Dr. Blackford has explained the method in a simple se»'en- •eson coarse, entitled, "Reading Character at Sight" Even a half hour's reading of this wonderful course will give you an insight- mto human natiue, and a pow-er over people which will surprise yoa.

Such confidence have the pubUshers in Dr. ".•"cfcford's Coiu-se, "Reading Character at Sight," that they will gladly .send it to you on approval, all charges prepaid. Look it over thoroughly. See if it Kves up to all the claims made for it If >-ou do not want to keep it, then rctam it and the transaction is closed. And if you decide to keep it— as you surely

What Dr. Blackford Says

[Partiaf analysis tuade from Photographs]

Mr. William S. Hart is a fine c&amplc of a ketn intel- lect, dominating and direct- ing both the activities of his muscles and the play of .his emotions. This characteris- tic enables its possessor con- sciotisly and uncrringlr to express in the finest shad- ings of posture, gesture, walk, and features, just the meaning he wishes to con- vey.

This is shown first, by the height, breadth and depth of his forehead and the keenne« nf hi. fl!- "^■*^''"^ intellectual power ol penetration ; second bv the length an"firm^« of hie ?. J^L p£;3S*iTc"^tir''"' "' cmotion-and the length and fineness of Si? chil. tTa^ng c'o^trTTf

Keen observation is shown in the fine development of the lower oart of th*. inr-h^ i _^--». -

aliiO as 1 basis for jtidKineDt as to what will plijast thtm in the pictures. sjrmpatlues, bat

One of the most marked traits about Mr. Hart is his determination which is d»>-_ ^ .1,-

n.s.r^'^^st^.i'^'-n^i^^^^^^^^s^'t:^ ^d^'f's'f'eh^^ '■•« -■"•^-o

hjs ^^r-.^ L™ws "ETw f^^i^-s. "J^ssi'^nf i^~^,rr;;faAre.n^-in"^

5SfeVd^•^B^'ti"'an7•SSlc',es.*"™-' ""^ *'^' "■" '^' ''"^^^tion tVU^'plSTlhS. "^

. .J^'^ "* I"*!""" «•"<* liTK^Iy eipUm Mr. Hart's stu»~ss in motion nictnm ht h, ,AA. to them an miusoal capaoty for concentration. He not oniT starts, bu. ^o ^.^fTu^' ^ ^.

and difficult the job, J.e sticks and he finishes. ^ ° """" '""• 'b««r«»»>fc

will— then merely remit five dollars in fnU payment

Remember, yon take no risk, vou assume no obligahon to buy. The entire "course goes to jou on approval You have everything to

^. '■??"' *^"' ''°* *° ""^f: people like you. whde this remarkable offer is still on.

Indq>endent Corpcx-atkm

Publishers of the Independent Weeklv DfVt- B-S7I. 119 West 40th St. Nei' York.

You may send roe Dr. Blackford's Course of seven^ lessons entitled "Reading Oiaracter at Sight" I -will either remail the course to you wthin five days after its receipt or send you $5 in full paj-mcnt of the Coiu-se.

Name

Wliat Mr. Hart's Manaccr Siqrs:

Address

M. P. CiMrtc l-M

If you loDg for more color

Csr tku immtotu tre*tmtnt for rounuf slugg%sk sk%m

lost before rctirittf. »***» TO"*" Ucc »nd neck wilh plrnly o* Wood btU7** Kacial Soap xnA warm water. I( your »kin ha* been badly neg Icctrd, rob a genfroo* lather thor- Ottshly into the pores, mm% an up- ward and outward motion. Oo llm tintil the »kin (eels somewhat ■rnvtive. Rinse well m wami water, then in coW. Whenever pc«siblc. rub your skin (or five min- utes with a piece ol ice and dry carefuny.

For pale, sallow skins

grealer stimntation.

requinnc the nrw

treatment. You will find it

.J the booklet wrapped around every cake o( Woodbmr'* Facial Soap.

To make your skin

noticeably lovely - Give it the reguW care it had when you were a baby

When you were a baby, your skin was exquisitely soft — clear, delicate — daintily rose-pink and white.

People loved to touch your rose- petal cheeks, your soft smooth little hands.

Do you ever stop to think what kept your skin so fine and soft? What is keeping it now from be- ing as fine and soft as it can be? No matter how you have neg- lected your skin, you can make it exquisite in texture. You can have the glorious color of youth. You must begin at once to give . your skin the tender, regular care it received when you were a baby.

Every night Ijefore retiring, cleanse it thoroughly — just as thoroughly as a baby's skin is cleansed every night. If your skin has lost its delicacy and clearness, use the particular

Woodbury treatment indicated for its needs.

Do you want more color? Are vour pores enlarged ? Have you disfiguring blemishes or black- heads ? These conditions are the result of neglect and the constant exposure to which your skin is subjected. The right Woodbury treatment, used nightly, will cor- rect them.

Get a cake of Woodbury's Facial Soap and have your first treat- ment tonight. The feeling the first two or three treatments leave on your skin will tell you how much good its regular use is going to do you. In a week or ten davs vou will begin to notice

a decided improvement — the greater clearness, smoothness, fineness and color you long foi

Woodbury's is for sale at drug stores and toilet goods counters throughout the United States and Canada. A 25 cent cake will last a month or si.x weeks.

Sample cake of soap, booklet of famous treatments, samples of Woodbury's Facial Powder, Facial Cream and Cold Cream, sent to you for 15 cents.

For 6 cents we will send you a trial size cake (enough for a week or ten days of any Woodbury facial treatment) together with the booklet of treatments, "A Skin Vou Love To Touch". Or for 15 cents we will send you the treatment booklet and samples of Woodbury's Facial Soap. Facial Powder, Facial Cream and Cold Cream. Address the Andrew Jergens Co.. 901 Spring GrOTC Avenue, Cincinnati. Ohio.

Wrapped around every cake of Woodbury's Fa- cial Soap is the booklet, "A Skiu You Love To ToL'ch." It contaims set- cmtific adz-ice ok the skim and scalp, and fnil di- rections for alt the fa- mous Woodbury treat- ments.

(Ten)

LOU-TELLECEN.

loTicssr

Fhotocraph hj De Meyw

liA.eCIC

Photograph © by Alfred Chcnty JohnilM

MARY MILES MINTER

A IxMiisiuu (irl, little Miss Minter, then known as Juliet Shelby, served a lone stage apprenticeship as a child. Her real hit came in the girl in "The Littlest Rebel" with the Famums. "The Fairy and the WaiT' shortly after marked her silTersbeet ithat

Photograph @ by Alfavd Cheney Johnston

CORINNE GKIFFTTH

Miss Griffith is nniversalljr recofnixsd as one of screenland's beauties. Bom in Texas, Miss Griffith started with Western Vitasraph — and she has since continued with that orfanization; altho society drama, nther than rugged frontier stories now serre as her Tehides

MAY ALLISON

May Allison is now accepted as one of our foremost comMiennes. Miss Allison is a Dixie girl and a member of the famous Wise family of old Georgia. The stage served as a stepping stone to the screen, where she first attracted attention as a leading woman for the late Harold Lockwood

Photograph by Evans, L. A,

§

natetnsh bj Caapbdl Stndioi

JUNE CAPRICB

Miss Caprice is a Boston eirl- She made her film dibut as a star with William Fox in "Caprice of the Mountains" and a star she has been ever since. Jnst now she is under the Caprllani banner

THIS is no conventional chat- for-an-hour interview — this composite view of Dick Bar- thelmess. For it is the product of many hours together ; in the country, in the city, under vary- ing conditions.

I would shudder to write my impressions of Barthelmcss after seeing him once. He is too elu- sive, too much within himself. He sits half broodingly, saying ery little, laughing now and then ith typical boyish high spirits, tempered by an odd mi-worldliness. But to paint a word picture of im after one meeting would be impossible.

I know that now I have not wholly found the real Barthelmess. But here and there in our con- versation flashe.s have revealed something of this boy who became famous over night for his Yellow Man in "Broken Blossoms."

We first met after the premiere of the Griffith pro- duction He had everj- reason to have lost his head in the avalanche of praise. But he hadn't. A sin- gular mental balance is his.

Indeed, he is the most nniisnal young actor I ever

Barthelmess: the Boy

met. Because be isn't the least like a player. None of the things we call temperament are there, just a down-right, reguhu', breath-taking boyishness. Not a slam-bang, certaiu- of-himself bojrishness either, but a quiet, introspective sort

Just before this "interview" was written we went to a musical comedy together. Barthelmess didn't lan^ at the cheap humor of it. Neither did he assume a high-brow air in commenting upon its banality. But he was frankly — and boyishly — interested in the girls.

Some one interviewed Barthelmess on the coast and pro- nounced him a shrinking lad who loved books. They dtdt^t see him as I saw him.

Yet Barthelmess does lo-'e good books. He reads a great deal One night he dropped a volume of Blasco Ibanez to have dinner with me.

But Barthelmess is many sided.

He loves the feminine note in life.

His ideal type of girl ? "Rather tall and slender," he said, (and I know he will shudder to read this), "she needn't necessarily be either blonde or brtmette, but she must be attractive."

"What about brains?" we parried.

Barthelmess paused. "I was thinking of an ideal dancing partner. Of course, I hope some day to meet a combination of beauty and brains. Possibly I have met them but they have not been able to see me for dirt." No coiKeit there.

Yes, Barthelmess loves to dance. Cabarets appeal to him.

But he confessed: "After two or three weeks of New York night life — with theaters and midnight dancing — I feel as if I were wasting myself. Sort of as tho I needed a mental bath."

Then — odd as you may think — Barthelmess goes away into the country, near his home in Connecticut.

"I have a quaint old room in a quaint old farmhouse," hf relates, "I sleep in a four-poster and I sleep. I read a lot and I dream. Somehow. I guess I like

Dick Barthelmess -isn't the least like > pb^er. None of the things we call tem- pcrunent are there, just a down-right, regalar, breath-taking boyishness. Not a slam-bang, certain-of-himself boyish- ness, but a quiet, introspective sort

that best of all." Did I .say Barthelmess is many sided?

No, Barthelmess is not "tem- peramental" as the word is used in screen circles. Not that he lacks ambition. He has fought every inch of his way.

His mother an actress. Bar- thelmess came from collie to try his luck on the screen. The role of the younger brother in Herbert Brenon's "War Brides" with Alia Nazimova, gave him his surt. But it by no means made him. He drifted, not quite able to do anything big anywhere.

"I almost starved before my opportutiity with Griffith came.' he told me laconically, "really al most starved."

Naturally Barthelmess looks

(avteen)

A Composite Study

By Frederick James Smith

npon Griffith with eyes of genuine worship. "He is more like a father than an emplojrer or the master the world sees," the young actor says. "Gee, 111 be glad when he comes easl I always feel that I can tell him all my troubles and atways be told just how to solve things?"

That was before Griffith brought his studio staff eiist and b^;an producing in Westchester. (Right here let me add that the producer re- mailcs anent' Barthelmess and Bobbie Harron: "No cleaner minded boys ever lived.")

Of course, Barthelmess just a bit envies the young stars of the celluloid drama who have every means, particularly financial, to advance themselves. "I wish I had money to buy plays and books now and lay them aside for a future day, when I shall have learned enough and made enough friends everywhere to be a star — that is, if that day comes."

His favorite role? Not the Yellow Man but the lover with Marguerite Oarke in "Three Men «nd a Girl." He likes that sort of light romantic character best. Probably, "111 Get Him Yet" is his next choice.

The Mexican vagabond hero of "Scarlet Days" interested •Barthelmess a great deal. "It was different, at least, to ride a mustang and wear a mustadie," he laughs. Critics have said that it was a boyish Walthall come to the screen, this stesitive, glamorous, dashing desperado with the haunting vein of humor and sadness. ^

Barthelmess has been playing a beachcomber m

Bartfaelmeas loves mo«t of all to May at his old home in Connecticiit. "I have a <iiuunt old room in a quaint old fannhoose," he lays, "I deep in a foor-poiter and I aleep. I read a lot and I dream." Two viewa of BrthflmfM in "Scarlet Days" are iriiown on dieac pacea

a forthcoming Griffith story of the South Seas. This will be his latest contribution to the screen — and a fascinating one it should be, with. Barthelmess plajring opposite Clarine Seymour, the famous "cutie beautiful.'' Miss Seymour por- trays a hula hula maid — and does it viv- idly, judging from our studio glimpses.

But to return to Barthelmess.

There is no question but that Dick holds a place all his own on the screen. Comparisons have been made with Charles Ray, but the two young men are poles apart. Youth alone makes them com- parable. Ray is the film's foremost ex- ponent of the genre school — Barthelmess of the humanely romantic school.

The silversheet has needed just this touch. It has been missing since Wal- thall contributed his "little Colonel" to "The Birth of a Nation." The Yellow Man was the first idealistic touch of poet- ry since that lovable character.

There is one vivid thingin Barthelmess' character that I haven't touched upon. {Cotttinued on page 74)

(Senenleeiti

The Youngest of the House o' Hammer- stein

to be {Jaced, we didn't actually get started until three this morning, and mother and I didn't get home until five, and— O, well, the world's going around just the same."

She laughed and curled up in a brocaded chair. I was glad it was near the window, because every now and then, as she turned, the light reflected the moist greynesS of her eyes, and from the twin- kle they flung out I knew I liked her right away— that she was the sort everybody liked— enor- mously^right away. She was so vibrant, so full of fun. . . _

"Yes, the suburbs of Phfladelphta. They were my background until I was seventeen," b^;an Miss Hammerstein. "I was brought up at a per- fectly dear seminary called 'The Armitage.' If it wasn't for 'The A r- The sut)urb« of PhiladelphU milage,' I suppose I'd were Elaine Hammerstein's (,£ a musical comedy background .inta she was seven- gtar today. So— thank teen. She was brought up m ■ »"■ ,^ t„, 'Th^ Ar. seminary caUed The Armitage.' the Lord for Ihe Ar- Across the page is a glimpse of milage'." Elaine and Myron Selznick, her Then she jovially

manager ^Q^^ ^^ „£ jhe sum-

rwas the first taste of November. Rak shot thru the air and there was suffi- cient chill to warrant furs and a wrap. Brrxl

The soap-scented elevator lifted me to im- 4neasurable heights, where I got out amongst the clouds at the — th floor, and sailed in upon a soft atmosphere of blueness that was — heavenly. A maid told me to wait. (There are maids in these places.) And from my glory of azure velvet, underneath a lamp of golden tints, nooked out on the drizzle — doubting its reality.

Elaine came into the room, and I saw the purple of her kimona, the grey of her eyes, and the tiniest auburn veil that glimpses thru her hair — and I knew movies were never like this!

"Good morning," said Miss Hammer- stein. My maledictions on November changed instantly to enthusiasm for the sea- son. "Good morning. It's funny how I can say 'Good morning,' isn't it, when I thought a few hours ago that everything in the uni- verse was changed. You see, all day yester- day I was working on 'The Country Cousin' at Glen Cove. Last night we were called up- on to go to Scarborough to take some scenes of a garden fete, and, due to the many lights that had to be used, and the extras that had

(SigM»tit)

f^a

By G. Biythe Sherwood

mer she was vacationing in Canada. Elaine loves the outdoors. She is crazy about swimming, riding, paddling, and keeping generally fit for sportsmanship. Along towards the end of a glorious Au- gust came a note from her father which read, "Come home. I have had a part written for you in 'High Jinks'." Elaine's father is Arthur, and Arthur's father was Oscar — the late Oscar Hammerstein. The one.

Elaine went. She rehearsed. And had a violent time with the make-up. For "The Armitage" even powder had been forbidden. And the day after the pre- miere at the Casino Theater in New York, Elaine — by the critics and by the public — was acclaimed a hit I Everyone went wild over the freshness and piquancy of Mr. Hammerstein's young, beautiful daugh- ter. They thought she had the most delight- ful, natural way. But no one, except Elaine and her mother and

(Nineteen)

Elaine Hammerstein loves tlie outdoors. She is crazy about swunming, riding, and boating. Indeed, she went on the stage in her father's "High Jinks" after a summer in the Canadian wilds

her father, knew that she had never sung or danced before in her life!

Miss Hammerstein laughed so deliciously as she confided all this to me now, but a moment later she sobered, when she recalled the nights thaf followed nights with her pic- tures in the papers — and how it hurt her — along with the way the people of the com- pany felt towards her because of that pub- licity.

"I didn't care a bit for the old clippings, and worse than that, I couldn't stand the footlights, and the necessity of having to work on Wednesdays and Saturdays — when tITe sun was out — and on evenings when there was another play I wanted to see, or a party of my friends who were going off to dance or skate. It was a miserable time for me. The only nights that were happy ones were when the boys and girls from school would come and sit ip a box, and wave to me. And I'd return the salutations and forget the play — and father would send {Continued on page 78)

JOHN BowEKS, leading man of many pictures, has just signed a contract for an- other year of work with Gold- wyn ; a year which — who knows? — may end with his becoming a star.

He is very handsome, is John Bow- ers— but this could hardly be called news — at least six feet in height and athletic looking with dark eyes and chestnut brown curly hair.

He tells a pathetic story about those curls which is worth repeating here in order to have it over with.. It seems that recently, when he went to see one of his own pkrtures run oflF at a local theater, he heard a violent argument between two women about his hair. One insisted that "no hair could curl naturally like that" and offered to bet the other "every cent she had in the worW" that it was marcelled. Let me say right here that he was more in- dignant than amused; he has done everything possible to keep it plastered down ever since.

But to get to my interview :

The fact that he is a good actor and handsome are not his only claims to distinction. Along the water front many people entirely unfamiliar with the famous ones of the stage and screen

The Owner of the "Uncas"

"When the northwest wind is blowing hard.

And blue and while is the sky. And the sharp-cut waves are streaked and scarred.

Where the darting squalls race by; When the leeward shrouds are whelmed in green

And the leeward deck's a foam, \^nd a dancing wake all "white is seen

Back toward the shores of home — OP,, that is the day mv heart would choose

For setting sail on an Augtist cruise."

—At. A. Dellolfe Howe.

recognize the name of John Bowers just as soon as it is spoken. "Who, him?" one of these will say, "Why, sure! I know who he is! He's the owner of the Uncas, a racing yacht with just about the classi- est li'l record you ever saw ; bought her some little time ago — " It is this yacht that John Bowers thinks of as home. This doesn't mean that he has no love for the little white bungalow just two blocks from the Goldwyn studio, where he and Mrs. Bowers play at keeping house. He couldn't help being fond of it, the place is so pretty. And, too, "We have lived so long in hotels and apartments," he said, "that life in a real house seems like a game." But "a man's home is where his heart is," and on the day I saw John Bowers his heart was away off with the Uncas on the Hudson River. He was, I think, the most homesick young man in the world. It was a warm day in early August and a light breeze blew in from

the Pacific, reminding one that Venice (and solid comfort in a bathing suit) was only about twenty minutes away. He was playing the part of a photog- rapher. He stood on a London roof at the Goldwyn studio ; a nice, solid, realistic roof about twenty feet from the ground with no house underneath, and under Frank Lloyd's direction, photographed the funniest family group I have ever seen. Director and

John Bowers loves his yacht, the "Un- cas," nore than most anything else in the world. The * Uncas" is a $25,000 schooner yacht — a 70-f ooter — built on long, graceful lines, painted white and with fittings of ma- hogany

fTtoenty)

By ELIZABETH PELTRET

cameraman were precar- iously perched on a mov- able platform opposite, which rocked lightly at their least energetic movement while an or- chestra, there for "at- mospheric" purposes, played teasingly a f e w bars from "Rocked in the Cradle of the Deep."

"The Uncas is really doming," John Bowers said, joining me when the scene was over. "I've made definite arrange- ments at last. Hal and Doc Wilson (shipbuild- ers of Balboa, a sea-side resort near Los Angeles, and his inseparable com- panions on many a cruise) are going to oiake up a party of seven or eight people and bring her around thru the canal. I almost think I'd like to sleep until she gets here, the waiting will be so long ! Talk about your passionate love scenes — I'm going to stage one when that boat arrives." He was speaking lightly and whimsically but with an undertone of serious- ness. "I'm going to wade out into the Pacific to meet her and kiss her right on the bow-sprit !"

He laughed at the idea but he was more than half in earnest. Anyone who has ever owned any sort of a boat knows that it may seem as vivid and living a thing as one's dearest friend and as full of unaccountable moods and actions. And when, in addition to this, she is a beautiful boat and fa- mous— well, one could not ask for more. And the Uncas is both beau- tiful and famous ; she has a raring record known among yachtsmen everywhere.

She is a $25,000 schooner yacht — a seventy- footer — ^built on long graceful lines, painted white and with fittings of rta- hogany. Her staterooms are large and comfortably furnished. He could take nine guests for a thirty-one day cruise without their missing any necessities or luxuries. One does not won- der that her young owner speaks of her with all the warm en- thusiasm of a young man describing his sweetheart as "the only girL" John Bowers has been interested in boats ever since he can remember, he told me. The first one he owned was a twenty-one footer and he built her himself when he was still in his 'teens. He used to sail her around Lake Wawasee,

(Iwtnt]i-&iit)

John Bowers has a broad and characteristic philosophy — a belief that everything moves in cycles and that individuals re- turn again and again, each time OA a higher pliuie, until they reach perfection

Indiana, and he grew so expert in handling Eer that the only "way he could get any excitement was by purposely "turning turtle" when he knew his parents were watching him, frighten- ing them almost to death and getting a lot of fun out of the many attempts to rescue h'm. He is, by the way, one of a {Continued on page 79)

veasted in lien

Photograph b; Puffer, N. \\

THIS is an amazing interview because, (this will require elucidation), it is not amaz- ing at all; that is, save as an interview. It is with Norma Talmadge, and the day I sallied forth to "get" her, I sallied pre- pared to be amazed. "Of course," I thought, subwaying jerkily along, "of course . . . young, very young, really . . . the ex- traordinary and undeniable touch of a real genius . . . widely acclaimed . . . at the top of the ladder, so to speak . . . things are bound to have happened in her as it were . . . sybaritic, perhaps . . . some distni;^iishmjf eccentricity . . . couldn't be helped ... I dont know just what . . . bat so met hint/ ..."

Nothing at all. The girl who, admittedly, stared, some years ,igo, at the .screen and murmured to her mother, in the .sur- roundins; darkness, "That's what / want to do . . . be a movie actress," who, afterward, wandered solitarily about the \'ita- graph studio until she was given a chance — that self same girl talked with mc in her own stmlio, the Norma Tahuadgc Film Corporation, the other day. Talked tii//i me. not to me. I say that advisedly.

In one preconceived particular I was right. She is young. Marvellously young. More as to viewpoint and general man- nerism, or rather, total lack of conscious mannerism, than cither line or tint. She is possessed of that sophistication which ap- pears to be unconscious of itself. She has ideals and does not attempt to conceal them. There is no thinly applied veneer of cvTiicism, nor, on the other han<l, is there the sugar-coated b.^by-staring of the curly ingenue. .'>he is just a girl with a soice of the divil in her and a belief in things . . . probablv Santa Claus and fairies. She appears to be quite unconcerned about herself, the eminence she has achieved, the altitude from which she could look down upon the lesser lights.

A (if not the) consuming passion with her is her work. It is

The Amazing

By FAITH

interesting to know that she really and absorbedly loves it ; not he resuhf only, generally she feels a dissatisfaction with them, but wth the work itself, the details of it, the everyday, all- night details. "I took a three months' vacation th>s ™e; she said, "or tried to and after about one ™"th "early went mad. 'Phoned the studio every day and finally cut it ; month short and got back imo harness 1 -ould never stand the gentle art of doing nothing. That would be too

strenuous for me!" •Ronlah

We had a plain chummy sort of an afternoon, B^ulah Livingstone, who does all of Norma's publicity and also that of wf sister, Constance. Norma and I. There was only one tentatively uneasy person present. That person was Beulah Livingstone. She had "arranged" the mtervievv and she was immensely anxious that the mterviewee and likewise the interviewer should, as it were, come up to scratch, buch did not seem to her to be the case. What possible press- value could result from two giggling people who seemed to be saying nothing more pertinent than admissions of jond- ness for the same brand of cigaret, for "hen parties and for certain unimportant persons having nothing to do with the intensive field of interviewing? U' hat mdeed thought Miss-Livingstone, prodding first Noniia and

Norma Talmadge is young. Marvellously young. More as to viewpoint and general mannerism, or rather, total lack of conscious mannerism- She has ideals and does not attempt to conceal them. There is no thinly applied veneer of cynicism' not any- thing of the baby-staring of the ingenue. Center, Miss Talmadge and W y n d h a m Standing at Miami, Fla.

Photograph by Puffer, N. V.

(Tuenlii two)

Interview

SERVICE

then myself, furtively and occasionally, in the vain hope of turning the talk into publishable channels. Eventually, be it said, she, too, succumbed and we smoked and gossiped and laughed a perfectly good interview away. Also, this is probably more important to me than to anybody, else, we spent. Norma and I, several more of the precious inter- rogative moments in comparing palms, both hers and mine being equally wrinkled, lined and then crosslined. "My child," said Norma, with sagacity, "you're going to have a fear- ful life, all .sorts of weird and interesting things. That is what everybody tells me." We were holding this frivolous session, be it said, in Norma's (I am a realist, so it has to be Norma . . . that is, she is going to censor this interview, so it may NOT be Norma, in whicji event you will know that she has blue-pencilled it, which I lay an

Norma Talmidee ii a "regu- lar person." She ii essen- tially human. She is nothing of the snob, nothing of the highbrow. She detests the easily and prudishly shocked. She is free - and easy and talk to-able and at-able

even wager with you she will not) as I was saying when I interrupted myself, the wholly desirable "hen party" was held in Norma's private apartment built for her and by her in the Talmadge studio. I believe it is the only thing of its kind in studioivity. I may be mistaken, in which event there will be more blue-pen- cilling done. This relieves me of all strain. The apart- ment is delicious, compact and complete, aside from being an innovation. You step from the hammering and shifting and shouting and general activity of the studio into quite another world, quiet, tasteful, apart. There is a tiny entrance hall. There is a large sort of a main room, part living room, part dressing room, which is, of course, its .chief use. The walls are a soft cream effect and the high windows are hung in some sort of effective cretonne. There is a mammoth black wicker dressing table topped by an oval mirror framed in black wicker. There is a comfy black wicker chaise-longue, occupied that afternoon by a diminutive and much- beloved "Pom." There are one or two made-to-be-sat- in black wicker chairs. A broad window-seat, uphol- stered, runs beneath the cretonned windows. There are two capacious clothes closets containing sundry cos- tumes. Aside from all this, there is a complete little (Continued on page 87)

\ An

Old-Fashioned

Girl

of nventj-fiv-e doUars a month denved

frotn some prop«rt>- ot her ovrn. The br^e V^g mother did the thmg she S best how to do She raised blooded stock and pedigreed hunting dogs. Her f^°^ts caK live with her and a new

■'''%UrMacIvor was a deUcate child. ^bVw'as unable to attend school regu-

•";-;v and was taught by her mother at •:-V~;e Her maternal grandparents were Scholarly people, and Mao'^s first recol- ■e-°ons are ot the poems her grand- t::lr ,..ed ro recite. His collection of -:,s ;.s her playground^^ She^began

early and whiled away the hours curled up in an armchair, either read- ing to herself or listening to her grand- father. Mary's first

L«ft. William .Des- mond, hnrtrnd ot the "old-fashioned gin and, below, the^ De*- mosds at breaiiast m their HoUywood bun- gilow. Miss Maelvor is ii:8t past e:«ateen and' looks Uie a mere schoolgir'.. raOier thyi a leadLng lady and wiie o! a star

naiorn^ b«:cw by S-.ifJ

W« WiHr Wintao ri»s thra *25^ L,>tair» mi" Aoaaatam in ba B«btSoaa; Peerin' m th' window. Cryw- at th' loA— 'Are th" haims a' in bed? Noo, ifs ten o'clodc."

THAT was one of linle Mary Mac- Ivor's favorite nursen.- rhj-mes^ Her ancestors on both sides of the family were Scotch, and tradition has it that ti>e wotnen of her clan are small, the men tall and handsome — true 'defenders of their kith and kin.

Mary never saw her father, but

she \tms to hear how splendid and

how good he wa* and to look at his

pictures. VMien her brother had

passed his ninth birthday, the young

fyttyr dMd of doable pnetunonia.

and the shock of hw death caused the

premature birth of the child, .^fter

his death there were money worries.

and when all the debts had been paid,

the great farm sold and the little

family forced to leave the beautiful

old house for a smaller place m the

mountains of Virginia, Mary's mother

had nothing to Stan on but an income

rrK«i««*7o»rJ

By FRITZl REMONT

great grief came with the death of the only real "cjaddy" she had ever known.

As she grew up and became stronger, Mar>- was taught to ride the fine horses her mother bred. She was afraid to take the high jump, but she would ner\e herself for it whispering her mother's instructions, "Give him his head when he goes down, pull him up as he lands."

Mary Maclvor is an old-fashioned girl, rich in the tradi- tions of the South. She knows how to do fine hand-sewing and can dam a hole in such a way that it improves a frock. On certain days o'f the week, her mother used to have Mary prepare the luncheon and taught her how it should be served. At such times Mary put on a tiny cap and apron and waited on the table with great formality. It was a game, but it pre- pared the girl for the home she manages so gracefully now.

"We had the prettiest wedding ! An old friend of ours, in Pasadena, has a rare collection of Chinese works of art. She insisted that we should be married at her home, and we were. We were married in a Chinese room, with a low seat, covered with hand- somely embroid- ered draperies serving as a prayer-bench with canopies overhead of the same rich materials. At our engagement din- ner, given by Mr. Desmond, every one had place cards of Kewpies sa\e Little Mar>-. Mr. Desmond turned to the guests and announced the fact that 'Mary gets an Irishman!'" She

CUmpiet of the Desnionds at home and motormg. Mn. opened a Chi-

cal Dixie gizl »nd "«*« °°^ *°"

related to the Bu- took out a

chanan» and other funny little

Southern lamiUe. -^^^^ ^f ^ .

Irishman. That Chinese box is a veritable treasure house. It contains miniature Buddha^, temples, sombreros, furni- ture, dishes, holy-water fonts, dice that are almost too small to be seen with the naked eye and hand-carved ivories. Nothing is more than an inch long and most of the treasures are a good deal smaller. They have been sent to Mary from her admirers all over the world who know her fad.

Mary's biggest hobby is — bottles ! WTien she told me about that. I said, "Beer bottles?" Laughingly she an- swered, "They're almost rare enough now to be saved as souvenirs of the' twentieth century, aren't they? But no, my bottles are of all sizes, shapes and nationalities."

.She owns a whiskey flask used by high-bred women of the Gvil \\'ar period, camouflaged in a peculiar manner. It's of china^ colored and built like a small prayer book, with a hole at the top for a tiny cork. .\ "lady" of that period could carry this spiritual volume in her muff without exciting suspicion. It was the fashion to faint in 1865 and old Bourbon was much in demand.

Miss Maclvor is related to the Buchanans and many other famous Southern families. (Continued on fage 90)

(TKenty-five)

PbotOfftph (loi)) by Whit*. Both photogriphi below by Abbe.

(Xmenty-iiJiJ

The

Holidays

In the Theaters

Below, a lively moment in "Ni(fhty Night," the rollicking farce at the Princess Theater. Left to right, Francis Byrne, Su2anne W i 1 1 a and Dorothy Mortimer

(Twenty-seven)

Photograph by While

On Vamps and Ingenues

By Ethel Rosemon

" T^ROM the inginue with the P golden curls, the floppy hols, the short -laaisted frocks and — and everything; from the vamp with the heavy eyes, the carmined lips, the snake glide, the Oriental jewelry and— and nothing, ye gods of the screen, deliver us."

Dorothy Green sat on the edge of the bed, swung one shppered foot in midair, ran the comb thru her bobbed curls and dis- cussed the vamp "on and ott. There was nothing of the picture star about her, everything of the typical young American, mental- ly keen, phvsically fit to cope with life The white shoulders that fairly gleamed thru the sheer negligee, the rounded arms, the

jfi.'.y'j.troy^.iafewsatac-

Pholo»T»ph © by Lumlere

clear gray-green eyes, the peculiar luster of the dark hair bespoke joyous, vibrant health. Keeping the ma- chinery of mind and body in perfect order is her main object in life, for with it, she declares, you can ac- complish everything, with- out it, nothing.

Dorothy started life— her moving picture life — as a vamp, but she was never tne type of vamp from which she prays to be delivered. In her opinion there is no state of society in which he shadow conception can hope to fulfill her^destined end. (^Continued on page /o)

"Deliver me from the ingfcnue with golden curls and the vamp with heavy eyes," says Dor- othy Green. Miss Green is a healthy type of young woman. She ra- diates joyous, vibrant health

If I Were King

Fictionized from the William Farnum Photoplay By OLIVE CAREW

'• A ND you should have the sun and moon to wear —

ZA if I were king — "

^ The pen was rusty, the ink vile, the man who bent over the rude deal table a scarecrow figure in a velvet doublet so bepatched it was hard to say what its original color had been. His hair, dark, long and un- kempt, fell about unshaven cheeks on which a week's beard blurred the lines of expression, a battered cap, adorned with a draggled cock's feather lay on the bench beside.

"If I were king — ah, love, if I were king — " he read aloud and his voice shook oddly in the reading, and the wild, bright eyes, deep-sunken and surrounded with the fine lines that told a sorry tale in Life's handwrit- ing were actually filmed with strange drops. For the nonce, Master Francois Villon, of unsavory name, pick- pocket, rhymster, marauder, sometime jail-bird, emp- ty of stomach, emptier of purse, was transported to that seventh Heaven of the poet — Inspiration.

The Fircone Tavern on the afternoon of a warm June day in the middle Fourteen Hundreds was hardly such a place as would beget thoughts of love and royalty. Rather would one expect its smoke-stained walls, its atmosphere of stale wine and mouldy cheese and un- washed humanity to spawn a litter of evil deeds, of foul oaths and deformed fancies, but the crew gathered be- fore the wide hearth, tatterdemalions, rogues, girls of the oldest profession in the world, merry vagabonds, all seemed happy and at home as they clattered mugs and cans of ale to the accompaniment of brisk tongue wagging.

"Come, Francois ! Art dry as that vile stuf! Master Robin here serves us for bread," slim Rene de Montigny called to the silent figure in the

For the nonce, Maiter Francois VUlon, of un>- • •vory name, wis transplanted to that seventh heaven of the poet^Inspiration

\

>**

^

A,

^k<'jmtw

corner, "canst moisten your gullet with ink, lad ? Be not so chary of your sweet company !"

"Leave him be," said one of the girls, a slip of a lass in boy's habit, who looked despite it no more a boy than stout Colin Cayeux, sprawling on the floor at her feet looked a woman ; "he wants none of our company, being in love with his own. Look !" she wagged a derisive hand. "Canst not see he has a goodly crowd about him? There is Sir Villon, poet of Paris, and one Francois, gentleman ad- venturer come upon evil days ; then there is Francois Villon. King of the Cockle- shells and Rogue V^illon, known indiffer- ent well to the keepers of His Majesty's gaol, and there is Villon the sot. N'illon the huckster of rhymes, Villmi who has betimes an itch of the dagger and Villon — "

(Twenty-nine)

MOTION PICTURE

"The lover!" tittered a full-bosomed wench who seemed bursting with ripeness tliru the straining sheath of her bodice; "forget not his best role. Abbess! Js no other i' all of France can match him at sweethearting!"

Tigerishly the girl sitting on the table's edge, swmging one shapely green clad leg, twisted her lithe body upon the speaker. "Have you been making eyes at my man, minx? I'll teach you to meddle — "

"Come, come," interposed the swinish landlord, thrusting his fat body between, "no hair-pulling! Settle your differences outside, and," significantly looking about the circle of emptied mugs, "settle your scores here ! No excuses, mind, in the stead of coins or you'll find a leak i' the bottom of your glasses hereafter!"

The crew of ragamuflfins looked askance at one another, and Jehan. the Wolf, slapped a lean pocket forlornly. "Have none" of you the wherewithal to appease this grasping ale- draper?" he whined; "if we would keep up the dear habit of eating and the dearer habit of drinking we must find some good burgher whose purse suffers from a plethora and needs bleeding."

Rene de Montigny thrust his hatchet face' mysteriously for-

ward. "Know you any of you, Thibault D'Aussigney, the Grand Constable?" he hissed. "Ods blood, if 'tis not he who has just entered — the fellow in the black cloak yonder in the corner, I'll dine on my doublet! There's no hiding that beak — but what can the Constable of France be looking for in the Fircone Tavern?"

"Shall we stick him?" queried an ill-favored Cockleshell, jerking a dirty thumb, "my dagger has no objections to spilling blue blood as well as red."

"Let's ask Francoi-s," Rene suggested, and approached the figure sprawled over his writing, shaking him boisterously. "Come! Enough of rhyming — can you fill your belly with rhymes ? We are hungry, and an ill world demands vile silver in return for food. Poems are good but fat capon, cheese, meat pies, pink ham and brown ale are better !" and the rogue's eyes glistened and he licked his lips.

The figure' at the table unhooked itself and rose with a ges- ture of brushing away cobwebs. Francois 'Villon looked dazed- ly about him, at the sanded floor, the guttering candles and the motley assemblage turned toward him, looking in the flaring and uneasy light like so many hobgoblins, and the light went out of his face as tho extinguished by a cold gust of mem- ory. Then, drawing back his lips, he began to laugh with no mirth in the sound.

"Welladay, lads and lassies, so ye are hun- gry !" He struck a fantastic pose, tattered cloak fiung back, palms on hips showing the dagger and the vellum book that kept strange company in his leather belt, "that is a fash- ion all Paris will soon follow unless our straw King finds himself the guts of a man ere long !"

He would have thrust the paper he held into his doublet but the Abbess, leaping for- ward like a tigress, snatched it away. "Let's see to what mistress he writes now !" she snarled, "of love that ever finds your face more fair" — bah ! should I be jealous of a paper wooing — I know better ways of love than that — eh Francois? Eh, my little mon- key?"

Francois 'Villon unwound the arms she flung about his neck and put her aside gent- ly, with a curious look of pity. "If I can- not fill your stomachs I can fill your ears with a well-seasoned tale," he promised, as he took his place, back to the fire, the leap- ing flames making him a still wilder and more grotesque figure, a knight of the gut- ter, a gallant of the gibbet. "Hark then to the story of how one Master Villon met with the One Woman in the World."

The Abbess gave a sound of rage, but Villon shook his head. " 'Tis the tale of the moth that scorched his wings at a star, Hugette !" he comforted her. " 'Tis not love as you understaiid it but rather something else that only the good God understands, the mystery of the ages, the riddle of the Sphinx. Know, then, that on Wednesday last as I was strolling — for my health alone! — near the Church of Notre Dame, watching the good folk enter, suddenly, I felt myself caught up to Heaven, and I saw — the love- liest she alive beneath the sun. She saw me no more than the pave aneath her little foot, but I saw her, and I see her now, and I shall see her in all the dreams I dream till it comes my time to die ! It was not that

"I was atandinK near the church of Notre

Dame when auddenly I felt myself caught

up to heaven and I saw — the loveliest she

alive beneath the sun."

(Thirty)

CLASSIC

her hair was so much brighter than the sun, or that her eyes were bluer than the blue overhead, or that her little mouth was red- der_ than the roses in the King's garden ; it was something else — a soul that peeped from her eyes, a God-knows-what that made her the queen among women. The sight of her beauty hurt my eyes, the taste of her beauty burnt my lips, and the ache of her beauty troubled my heart, and she passed me by, unseeing and entered the church, and I stumbled away drunk with a headier wine than you have in your rotting bins. Master Robin. And," he groaned, and mocked the groan with a jangle of laughter, "I think I shall be drunken with her all njy days."

"Why didn't you follow her into church and get near her in the crowd and pinch her?" queried Colin, sleepily; "I like not your tale, Francois. It has an ill sound in ears that ring with hunger. Love! Balder- dash ! Oh, for a roll of sausage — " and he looked greedily toward the cloaked figure drinking a sedate noggin in the corner.

At that moment, as tho summoned, the figure rose and moved toward them. "Is there among you a braggadocio ruffian, a loose-tongued fellow known as Francois Vil- lon ?" asked a voice from under the conceal- ing hat brim, "if so I have a word for him."

"At your service, good Cuffin!" bowed Villon, airily. "Your description fits me an ill cloak, and I like not the cut of it, but never mind. Has your word the ring of metal ?"

The stranger glanced about ths circle o wolfish faces, and apparently decided they were birds of a feather. "It has," he an- swered surlily, "the sound of a thousand francs to one who can do a simple errand."

"For a thousand francs," smirked Villon, "I would carry a message to the devil him- self. Out with it, friend! What's to do?"

"Only this," said the newcomer, lowering his voice, "as you know, the Duke of Bur- gundy besieges Paris and King Louis Do- Nothing sits idly by, willing his people should starve. But some there are of us this likes not, and we want a trusty messenger to carry word," he regarded Villon watch- fully, to Burgundy that the defence of the city is a pitiful myth, that there is no wall but may be carried, that the army dices, and the Court dances and there is nothing in the way of his enter- ing whenever he wills !"

"Ouch !" Villon gave a sudden cry as if of pain and clapped his hand to his side; "I have a cramp — in my sword I It needs exercise!" He drew it, and flourished it fantastically above his ragged head. "It is a French blade, fellow, and thirsty to "drink the blood of a traitor!"

Like a frightened hen, the man in the cloak scuttled across the room, and the door- erased him. A murmur of discontent rose among the fellows of the Cockleshell. "You fling away a thousand francs glibly, Francois," grumbled Rene, "who'd have suspected you of such a tender conscience? And what differ- ence does it make to you who sits on the throne of France?"

Villon sheathed his sword. " 'Tis a whim of mine," he con- fessed, half ashamedly, "to be loyal. There's no accounting for whims, but I'll not let mine rob you of your supper. Come! The good moon has drawn a curtain across her window like a tidy housewife and the world's adark. I know a church chest waits us, bursting with spoils pilfered from the pockets of the •poor. Let's be gone, what say you. Hearts of Gold?"

It was a windy night, the gusts rushing down the little crooked lanes, setting i le shop signs creaking, and the lanterns

(Thirtyone)

IHitt" wiTcd VUlon, "one Cornell"

flaring overhead. The Fellows of the Cockleshells slunk along the streets like shadows cast by the moon, and without accident elud- ing the watch, arrived at length at the church. "Ods blood I" then swore Rene de Montigny, softly,* "but the fellow's brought us to the chapel of His Ma- jesty!"

"Who better?" whispered Villon, gaily ; "one goes for riches where riches are. Does o.ne seek poultry in a draper's? To work !"

A hasp on a window at the side was loose and Colin, who despite his flabbiness, could twist a bar of iron as it had been cheese, snapped it in two. Pell-mell into the dark interior hurtled the pilferers with as much ^clat as tho thievery were not a hanging matter, and Villon followed them. The chest was soon located, its contents distributed among the sev- eral jerkins which closed over the yellow meul cosily. Then, as they were about to leave, Villon held up a warnmg hand. "Hist!" he muttered, "one comes!"

A gleam of a torch pricked the darkness of the chancel. The intruders shrank into the shadows as a woman's figure rayed

MOTION PICTURE

Louis turned to. Villon, "After such a conqueit m e t h i n k I Burgundy should be easy for you, my Lord Constable, *" sneered

he

about witli a nimbus of liglit paused at the altar and motioned the attendant with the torch iiway. "Wait me outside," said a voice. Iil<e the deep tones of a bell, and hearing it, Villon gave a great start, and forgetful of caution leaned to look down at her. "God in Heaven!" he muttered, " 'tis she!"

There in the darkness the five rogues listened to a woman's prayer, a prayer for the safety of France whicli was dearer to her than her heart's blood, a prayer that a weak King might be given strength — or "that a man should come to court" and rouse the painted pujijicts to be men. Only one of the eavesdroppers gave the words inuch liecd. chafing to b<v gone and taste the sweet fruits of their thievery. When at last the white figure had trailed down the iiisle. Rene de Montigny prodded Villon's side.

"Come, let's be off I'' he nuitlcrcd. "before anotlicr wench comes a-prayingi"

A ray of the moon, pryin'.,' t''iu a shutter, fell across Villon's face, showing it aflame! Ills fellows stared curiously, as tho they hardly knew him, but Villon gave them no heed. "A man woulrl come to court!" echoed N'illon. with a great loni;ing shaking liis voice into ra^'s and tatlers of soimd. "Now if there be a God. how Me must be I;iu<;liingl .\ nincompoop upon the throne, nnd a .ijiitter rat with the s])irit of a king! If I were the king of France—" His head rocked liack on his shoulders, he spi^kc as one inspired in his beloved rhyme —

"We want a chief to bear the l)rand —

And bid ilie damned Biirguiidians dance — God I Where the oriflamme should stand If Villon were the King of France — "

In flaming measures he poured his heart into the words. the wild, untamed. Hcnrt of \illon the rascal, beating beneath the rags of shame ami terrified by the sound of approaching feet his friends fled from liini, Oiving from the windows with their spoils, bent on iaving their skin whole. In the vestibule. a small crooked frgurc in a velvet doublet, with silken hose sheathing his lean shanks liste-icd. and smiled with wry. thin

lips. "A braggart, mouthing easy nothings!" Louis of France murmured to his entourage, "still — the fellow has fire in him. Get him, and bring hiin to me!"

Dazed, Villon saw himself suddenly surrounded with pikes and the flash of steel, he whipped out his poor blade but too late.

Louis looked down at the wretched huddle of limbs they brought him, and laughed softly. "An ill-looking bird, but he croaks like an eagle. Thibault has gone over to Burgundy and the post of the Grand Constable is empty — take him in, 'wash and dress him in fme linen and lay him on Thibault's bed. When he comes to himself address him as Grand Constable! We shall see whether he has aught can match his bravery of tongue I"

And so it happed that on the morrow, Francois Villon opened his eyes upon purple draperies and tapestried walls, upon servile faces bowing about his bed. upon gold lace and velvet and plumed hat laid by ready for his donning. " 'Tis a monstrous fine dream, at any rate," he murmured, as he was helped to dress, "if I might dream a few gold pieces in my pocket now — "

He thrust his fingers into the wallet at his belt arid drew them out full of coins. He raised his eyes and beheld in the mirror before him not the scarecrow figure of yesterday, but a gallant gentleman, barbered, freshly shaven, carrying his fine plumage easily and well.

"His Gracious Majesty the King to speak with the Grand Constable on affairs of state," intoned a voice at the door. The small, crooked figure in black velvet waved his attendants away. He regarded the transformed thief, and sniggered. "Welladay. my good Constable!" shrilled Louis, "I trust you have found all to your taste? We are but humble folk at \aucelles: you must overlook our failings."

Villon fell upon shakine knees and touched his lips to the hem of the black robe. "Sire !" he choked, "Sire. I know not what to say !" .^

"Yet last night you were at no loss," chirped the king; "you Ind a mouthful of fine words and boasts as to what you would

(Thirty-two)

ClAbSlC

do if you were France's king!" His tone grew sharp, his smile more malign; "I have decided to give you an opportunity to make good your words — if you can. For one week you shall be the Grand Constable of France in very sooth. You shall do as you will and drive Burgundy from our gates if you can. Af- terwards," the thin lips sneered, the small cold eyes twinkled up at him, "afterwards your final act as Grand Constable will be to pronounce sentence of death upon one Master Francois Vil- lon, scapegrace and ne'er-do- well, provided that in that week you have not made good your words and won the heart of the Lady Katherine of Vaucelles, proudest lady of the court, and hardest to win !" The wry smile became a cackling laugh. "Egad, it would serve Katherine well to have flouted me and to pin her faith to this thing of ra^s anil tatters I'' chuckled Louis.

Villon was very white, but his eyes glowed. "Is that the only choice. Sire?"

"Louis made a contemptuous gesture. "Oh, no, you may don your vile rags and go back to your gutter this moment if you choose a longer lifetime of lying in the mud rather than a week of sitting among the stars."

Villon bent his head. The sunshine was pure gold across the floor at his feet, the air was soft with roses. Life was very sweet even to a poor rogue of a rhymster — yet, to play a man's part for a week — to be near his Lady, to speak with her as an equal, to woo her perhaps —

He bowed low. "I have chos- en the week, Sire," he said quietly, "if I cannot make good use of it I would rather die than live longer to hate myself."

Of the strange, wondrous days that followed, there is no space to tell. Francois Villon,

Francois Villon caught the

slim white hands with a

great cry. "You would do

that for me?" he asked

'gutter-born, found himself at no loss among the great lords and ladies of the court. F,ven when Katherine of Vau- celles bent her shining head to him and spoke in the tone she used toward the king himself, his lips fell into the courtly phrases of compliment anil badinage, tho his heart beat to sufTocation with great joy and great pain. And the hours sped across tlic sundial in the castle gar- den, and still Burgundy crouched with- out tile gates.

Then came a herald, bearing insolent word<. "Surrender Pnris or taste of our

guns!" Louis tlie King listened, small, weazened face inscrutable, while the court chafed under tlie insult of tlie message and the messenger's bearing. "My Grand Constable will give you our answer," said the King, calmly. "He krtovvs our heart, ant! our will."

Francois N'ilion rose to his feet, in his soul a great humbleness, in his eyes a flame. He had dreamed always of great deeds that he would do. and now great deeds were possilile to him. He .spoke with his lips to the herald, with his heart to Katlierine. "Go back to your master!"

he bade the messenger, "and take him this word from the lips of France Her- self. Defiance for defiance, menace for menace, blow for blow I This is our an- swer"— and he drew his sword and flashed it aloft, "God and Saint Denis for the King of France !"

Up sprang the perfuined courtiers, dragging their sleeping blades from silk- en sheaths, the air was full of their flash- ing and the sound of cheers. His words had burned away the painted threads of lassitude that had enmeshed iheir nian- (Continued on page 68)

(Thirty three)

i

««fT is like a miracle! I can hardly yet believe it.

I After so many struggles with heavy odds against

me, to have at last become a director — well, as I

say, it is like a miracle !" And while Erich von Stro-

heim smiled, the eyes remained serious. The memory

of those struggles is not readily effaced.

There is a saying about the motion picture studios that in every life there is at least one good scenario. If this be true, Mr. von Stroheim has a dozen stowed away behind those serious eyes, for during his 32 years he has touched the dramatic contrasts of life that develops the emotional powers and he has — lived!

Before meeting him I had been told that he was by birth Count von Strolieim. of the Austrian nobility, his father having been a colonel in the Austrian army, and he himself a graduate from the War College of that country in 1905.

When I asked Mr, von Stroheim about these early years he shook his head, saying, "Titles mean noth- '"g" } gave up mine for I am an American citizen.

"This .American citizen had a hard time during the war, however," he continued, as we lingered over our sandwiches in the little cafe at the Universal City studios. It was long p.-ist the usual lunch hour and the room was deserted.

"My name, my face, in fact, my whole Austrian make up was against me. I was shunned and disliked. At one time I was even under observation, but about six weeks before the armistice was signed I was of- fered a commission in the Intelligence Department of the United States Government. I had served four years in the U. S. .\rmy when I first came over ten years ago."

Erich Von Stroheim and the Miracle

"Perhaps it was your splendid acting in the role of the hated German officer in various pic- tures that helped prejudice the public," I re-- marked. "I confess that your subtleties made me long to see your punishment several times."

"What could I do?" he replied. "The moment a director saw me I was immediately cast in that role. I played it in 'The Unbeliever,' 'For France,' 'Hearts of the World,' "The Hun Within,' and in 'The Heart of Humanity.' Prob- ably I could never have given such a villainous characterization in the latter picture had I not been conscious of the hatred which every mem- ber of the cast felt for me. I sensed their an- tipathy so distinctly that it was reflected in my acting and I put into the role just what they were thinking of me.

"It was after a disa- greeable affair t h a t m y father thought the Amer- ican climate w o u 1 d b e good for me and he sent me over for five years, I doubt if I shall ever go back. "During the y e a r s of

Erich Von Stroheim went thru painful privation when he firBt came to America from Austria. In those days of frayed collars and run-down heels he en- gaged in every possible occupation, except bar- tender and waiter

(Tliirtiifour)

By Maude S. Cheatham

run-down heels and frayed collar bands I en- gaged in every possible occupation, except bartender and waiter, to keep from starving. Oh, yes, I was often hungry. I recall that once in New York I didn't have one cent and was miles from my lodging in Brooklyn. I stood by a subway entrance determined to ask some- one for a nickel ; I had frequently helped others, but I didn't have the nerve and walked home after all.

"Struggles are all right to look back upon. but so far I derive little pleasure in contem- plating mine, they are still too recent to have gained any glamour. I came from a fighting family, however, and I fought my way thru every inch."

Whatever the bat- tles, Mr. von Stro- h e i m has finally emerged not only as an actor of subtle force, displaying the rare ability to sink one's personal- ity into the role he is playing, but he

Once on the coast. Von Stroheim found the screen no easy goal. He was a life saver on Lake Tahoe, with the unlucky number of 313, before he succeeded in breaking into pictures

Y

has achieved a signal success as a director, for his first picture, "Blind Husl)ands." places this young man among the foremost directors of the day. This may well be termed a personal triumph for not only did he direct the production but he wrote the story, under title of "The Pinnacle." and acted one of the i)rominent roles.

"It was Mr. I.acmmle who gave me my chance," Mr. von Stroheim replied, when 1 congratulated him. "He came west just as we were finishing 'The Heart of Hu- manity.' Meeting him, I told him what I wanted to do and he said to go ahead. 1 still feel it is a miracle, four months ago I little dreamed my chance was so near."

It was after a series of hard.ships during which he had tried everything, from writing a vaudeville sketch and playing it on the Orpheum Circuit, to being Life Saver at Lake Tahoe I with the unlucky number of 313) that he broke into pictures.

Being down and out but still determined, he walked over to the Griffith studio in Hollywood every day for two months and waited around the outside, hoping to at- tract .someone's attention.

One day John Kmerson, who was playing a riMe in Ib- sen's "Ghosts." stepped out of the studio in his evening clothes with a ribbon across his breast. "For the first time in my life I was nervy," observed Mr. von .'^trohcim. "I stepped up. told him my name and asked if he was playing comedy or drama. \\'hen he said drama, and that the ribbon was a badge or decoration of a Chamberlain. I told him it was not correct. 'What do you know abniu it ?' he asked. I replied that it was too long a story to tell (Continued nn pof/c 69)

(TMHy-fve')

The

Director- Diplomatic

By WARY KEENE

. the usual rest of il.

I saw Edward Jose d'ff"f""/„f „^ _,is,ion had I been

vith the intent

iiin, a director. I can hardly say why.

I found him as diplomatic as his appearance conjec- tured. Quite charmingly so. He has a fine discrimination in giving his point of view and in keeping it. He is a man pre-eminently fitted to direct because there is always a deep reserve fund within himself of power, of thought, of feeling.

He is wholly void of per- sonal egotism. So much so that I found it very hard to keep him to the topic of the hour — himself. He talked readily and engrossingly on many things— on the absurd- •ity, for instance, of the indi- vidual pitting himself or her- self against tradition ; against world-old laws and orders. "It is inevitable destruction," he said. "Take marriage, for example. The scenario I am doing now deals with the revolt of a woman against

st rerth"ruouUf"o^rse. What does. one case of unhappiness or two or three, or as many dozen, prove? What have you and I to do with what has been ordained from the begintiing?

I had come however, to hear him talk about htrruself, and if it had no Jeen foMhe gentle interpolations of Mrs. Jose who sat sewing m "he adjoining room, I should certainly have gone away wUh the charm of his indubitable personality about me, but wholly, too, without

^°jSras"'aSiner 1 asked him what he considered the requisite of a truly great director. It is the prize question.

He shrugged his shoulders, elevated his bro,ys, threw up his hand and took a few steps about the room in what I discovered to be a char-

acteristic way. . , r ' . j St

"H I -^ay." he said finally, "people will think I speak of. or A.w.

from, or about myself. It will sound too . . . well, too egotistic. It is better that I do not say at all. '

{Continued on page 80)

Edward Jo»6 with lu» wife and child and, 'be- low, on location wlw the Norma Talmadge company

(ThiriU'*'}

The Cinema Comes to Carleton '

W

By HARRIETTE UNDERHILL

ULIAM Carleton, Jr., laid the corn muffin which he was buttering down on his plate, looked at us seriously and said. "You are rieht— there is I" ' • 6

Now William, Jr., is a mild-mannered man and he is particularly fond oi corn muffins, so we knew something untoward was egging him on to this display of fierceness and this renunciation of his beloved viands.

"You are right, there is a fly in the ointment. I dont like cinema field days — community acting, if you know what I mean."

"But we dont know," we murmured, outwardly timid, but secretly exult- ant, because we sensed a story. "What is community acting ? Something to inspire good fellowship, like community singing?"

' Yes," answered Mr. Carleton, still gloomily regarding his neglected muf- fin; "something like community singing, only not so sweet and I cant say that it is particularly conducive to good fellowship — in me, at any rate."

"And what are cinema field days?"

"The same, only more protracted."

And all this because we had inadvertently asked Mr. Carleton if there was not a single fly in his syrup of contentment.

"Never mind," w. soothed, "you needn't tell us what community acting is , and we can live if we dont know what cinema field days are. Dont excite yourself and we'll talk about birds and flowers."

"No we wont ; we'll talk about cinema field days," for William Carleton, Jr., can be a "majerful" man when he wishes, ''if it wasn't for them, life in front of the camera would be one sweet song. But people never can be induced to believe that we make motion pictures because it is our profession. They firmly believe that we do it for their delecta- ~~

tion. Have you ever made exteriors in a popular sum- mer resort? No, of course you haven't — I forgot."

"Well, you needn't be so superior," we replied. "We have had three oflers, but we dont like to work so hard."

"Well, community acting is when the whole <;om- munity decides to take part in the picture. Cinema field days are those awful days when mothers gather on the site which has been selected for the exteriors for your new picture, bringing with them numerous little Cuth- berts and Cedrics who, they fondly hope, will be the picture heroes of the next generation.

"You select a nice secluded spot back of a stone wall for your dressing room. You find a hollow tree evi- dently placed there by providence to be your make-up table. You work for an hour in the sun. Then the director will say, 'AH ready for this scene ! Carleton, your nose is shiny. Better touch up your make-up !' and you rush away to your nice secluded dressing room to find an angel-faced, flaxen-haired child dig- ging in your box of powder with a stick. His face is daubed with your grease paint. Mamma sits nearby reading. You take your cherished possessions away from him, get out your mirror preparatory to holding it up to nature and proceed to touch up your make-up. Cuthbert stands wild-eyed. 'Mamma,' he shouts, 'come and see the man putting powder on his nose just like you do !' or, if you carry your make-up with you and hide it under a stone, when you return you'll sure- ly find some coy belle of '84 in a picture hat using your powder puff and mirror. It never fails."

"Poor dear," we murmured, "the subject is evidently a painful one. Tell us some more."

"Well, there isn't going to be any community acting in 'The Copperhead.' That is the picture I am work- ing in now with Lionel Efarrymore. Charlie Maigne has made me a deputy shcrifT and I am going to wear a 'tin star' and everything just like a regular one. So when the people gather on the field for the ceremonies, as they surely will — 10,000 strong, I suppose, to see a real Barrymore, I can order them back and flash my badge and be real impressive,"

"Did Mr. Maigne select you as a minion of the law because you are six feet two?" we asked. "And im- portant-looking." (Continued on page 70)

(TMrtyieven)

A study of WillUm Carle- ton, Jr., and two viewi of him on the acreen with Elsie Ferguson. "I love cinema work," says Carle- ton, "if it wasn't for com- munity acting."

The

Gorgeous

Gloria

Ttiis unique b«thiii([-BUit is in- troduced in CecU B. De MUle » "Why Change Your Wite? While we rather doubt its sea- going qualities, we frankly ad- mit Its effectiveness. H it isn t aquatic, it Is optical

(TMrtij-cighl)

Fictionized from the Maurice Tourneur Photoplay

By FAITH SERVICE

Just now. rankling virulently, was the girl in the Zangiciamo orches- tra, lately arrived from Eastern ports and stopping a few weeks at the hotel en route for California

IN his very early days Baron Heyst had been badly battered been vague persons . . . even his father with his detached and mauled by life . . . there had been a great many things bitterness, so detached, indeed, as not to be bitterness at all, but ... it had not seemed able to let him be. With the passing only a wraith of other days, still shrouded. There had been of his youth passed, too, his faith. He drew, as it were, an vague events . . . and many books . . . and travels . . . envelo])ing cape about him and stood aloof, mocking tliru seen, as it were, thru a haze, darkly . . . nothing had been badly twisted lips. real, ever. Nothing had given any stabbing joy. Nothing had

'"Jhe thing to do,'' he told, his son, shortly before he came to given any drivep pain. There had been no palpable sense of die, "is to do nothing. Only by establishing an absolute nega- discomfort, nor yet the glow of any substantial comfort, tion of attitude are you safe. Do not attempt, either, to be After his father's death, Axe! Heyst left London. He had .anything. Be //; the world, because read of the South Seas and they

to remove yourself from it involves called to him. There, he thought,

an infringement of negation, of all on those deep lulling waters, among

infringements die greatest . . . but VICTORY those drugging scents and thick

be not of it. Stand apart. Live apart. Fictioniml by special permi..sion from the see- strong .sounds, one might, like

Say little and condemn, mevitably, ,,^^;^ ^j Stephen Fox, based upon Joseph Con- maiiimoth lazy birds, wheel away

all that you hear said. If you evolve ^.^^.^ ,,^^^, ^j „,^ ^^^^ ^^„,^ pubhshed by o"^ s time, su.spended between,

philosophies, the rabble, swine all of Ooubledav, Page & Company. Produced by literally and figuratively, earth and

them, will still go nosing for truf- Maurice Tourneur and released by Famous hea\-en.

Hes. If you ponder the philosophies piavers-Lasky Corporation. The cast; One could readily establish nega-

of others you will become evolved. ' t i, « i ''°" ^^' ''^^ natives. There could

Establisli an absolute negation." '^'"^' f^^*^-'" J'"^'' "°" be no possible other stand. There

To establish a negation was not Alma Scena Owen would be no intrusions.- Things

peculiarly hard for Axel Heyst. Cu- Rlcardo I.on Clianey woukl not happen. There would be

riously, he had never believed very Schomberg Wallace Reerv no women. Not that .Axel thought

vitally in his own identity, in his Ben Deciy of women m the way of intruders.

own essential existence. He had „ ' ^°'\ , ,„r, wi.,«„„ Actually he did not think of them

been, to himself, a shade 'walking ^^''- Schomberg • Laura Winston ^ 3,, He knew that part of his

among shades ... he had estab- fedro Bull Monuma father's philosophy had had to do

lished no contacts . . . there had Captain Davison Georce NichoU* with woman's component part in the

(Thirty-nine)

MOllON PICTURK

She made a difference m

the bungalow on the

island. Heyst admitted

that almost at once

cosmos. And then, with the

hejiinning of the bitterness.

woman's part had been ruled out

of the i>liiloso|ihy and P.aron_

Hevst had ex|iatriatecl himself •

fro'm his native Sweden and

M.me sort of a cliapter had been shuf down, a seal affixed.

Nsel Hevst roamed five years amonf,' the islands ot the

South Seas,' druKCinjr himself with a sweet narcotism, not so

mnch wakinu' as sleei-ini,'. There had been no mtn.sions .

There had been passing dusky faces . barbanc sot nds

aiKl smells . . . lagoons like fluid souls . . . endless bine waters endless gold shores . . . endless sailings . . .

coming and goings . . . nowhere . . . to no purpose . . ^ the world did- not knock at his door ... He might have been his father, entombed, for all life had of him. or he of he . . Then as abruptly as poetrv might turn to prose and almost as shockinglv, he fell in u ith .Morrison. Morrison was mere man. He didn't know anvihing about negations You couUhi t have established the abstract fact of negation in his head by any sort of means. He was utterly the positivist. He had a iias- sion too. .\ ruling one. .\ii overruling one It was tor lis trading brig, the "Capricorn." Morrison had been born on the Capricorn. He had grown up on her. with her, body and soul lie had got his life and his livelihood from her. She was living tisMie to him. He had a tremendous sentiment for her a f.^eling composed of tissue and blood He had sailed the lava sen on her and now, it seemed, in the port of Timor, be- cause he had no cash, some irregular had been found in his oaper. and the I'ortugueM- otficials were going to impose a hue he couldn't pav on him. arrest his brig and, at the expiration of the week, knowing the fine was beyon<l him, sell her at auction. Sell the Capricorn ... It was like the sacrilegious sale, the sacril ;8i VIS public sale of some beloved woman • ■ ■

MorriBon was in the throes when he ran into Heyst. fie was loo le'-rijly in the throes to take notice of anytlnng different

about ?Icyst. He was just someone to pour out his heart to . his 'big heart, which was breaking. It was a sort of a vandalism, after a fashion. Morrison was a sort of a, no. distinctly, a vandal of dreams. He thrust his lieavy. hob-nailed boot into the delicate aloofness of Heyst's absolntci negation. He showed him a bare heart, a rugged ])iece of suffering, easily averted.

Heyst was shocked. Of course, he felt at once, the Capri- corn could not be sold at auction. He sensed tbe tragedy there, immediately. Sensed, too, somehow, remotely, the clamor of resistance Morrison was making.

Consummately and very delicately, he made it possible for Morrison to pay his fine and assure the safety of the Capricorn. He turned away before the sight of the big man's heaving ]oy. It was somehow cataclysmic. The primitive forces in the man slei)t, or dozed, so close to the surface that one felt the sense of ari upheaval of nature in his emotions, forces • • •

"I'll tell you what," said Morrison, after he had released Heyst's sensitive fingers from his blunted ones; "I cant do enough for you. I cant, for a fact. I ... but what I can do . I'll let you in . . . there's coal on the island of Samburan. i happen to know ... come closer . . . hearkye . . -that's how I know. I've been waiting ... for the right man. You re him, Mr. Heyst. You're him. You are, for a fact. There s a fortune. A fortune. There is, for a fact. Here's the de- tails. ..." , , u

Three hours later, Heyst said all right. He didn t know why he had said all right ; why he had agreed. It wasn't in accord- ance—it wasn't in accordance at all with the utter detachedness preached him by his father. He couldn't see why this huge crude man should break thru the delicate, impalpable, yet very potent doorway between himself and the rest of the world. His had been a huge fist knocking . . . knocking smashing sorts of blows ... he had, it seemed, battened things down. Heyst was conscious of a tingling in his veins. After all, per- haps, outside the thick blue haze shot thru with dreamy

(Forty)

CLASSIC

gold in which he had lived and had his separate heinfj after all there were men who weiif immense tears over the threatened loss of a grubby trading schooner; to whom these staple things of hfc meant breathing and being. Odd sort of a surmise but probably true after a limited fashion

And then, it had occurred, even to Heyst,' that to dream one must have money. Dreams, even, are quite costly One must pay, it .seemed, to float about on the South Seas watch- mg the curious native life thru half-closed eyes. This coal mine of Morrison's . .it could be got thru with and then he. Heyst, amply supplied for endless dreaming could go back ... M

But one doesn't go back, it seems .

Morris^on went to London to float the company and in Lon- don he died. There was too much fog there perhaps— the details were never made very explicit. But he died And \vhen Heyst heard of the big man's death he felt precisely as tho someone had given him a crude rent with a knife A most unthinkable thing.

Before he died, however, it seemed that Morrison had. been successful in forming the company. Heyst found himself nominated manager and with the mushroom growth of such enterprises coolies were imported, engineers arrived from Lon- don, bungalows sprang up, a gallery was driven into the pro- ductive hill.side and coal in vast ([uantities was taken out Heyst had felt quite excited up to the actual time of the min- ing. There was something, he thought, in the nature of a gigantic dream about it all. He felt detached from it, in- terested, immensely interested, but as a spectator. He missed Morrison. Morrison had a fresh salt tang. There had been an invigoration to Morrison powerful enough to pierce the veil of Heyst's dreaming. Now Morrison was gone and the old lethargy was creeping about him again. His father had been right . . . detachedness ... all this . . . what did it amount to? Shortly thereafter the company went into liquidation and

Heyst was left alone on Samburan with his chinaman Wang 1 le was content to slay. He had his pipe and the biiii-.-ilow had been fixed to suit him. He rather thought he woufd stay on indefinitely ... he was at peace. On the other islands,

When he had gone to and from while the mining was on active process, there had been nast'y talk back and forth. Schom- berg the big Cerman who kept the hotel on Sourabaya seemed absolutely to hate him. This seemed absurd to Ilevst who had never hated as he had never loved, a living soul. ' Schom- berg, It seemed, accused him, with equal absurdity of an absurd thing. He had used Morrison, Schomberg alleged had even been responsible in some occult way for Morrison's death I here had been mysterious dealings . . . hidden wealth . Heyst laughed at it, silently, after his fashion, yet it was he thought as tho something gaseous, no.xious alloyed un-" pleasantly, a trade wind from the south, spiced and aromatic t ■ K !i'^''' certainly negative on Samburan. He was forgot- teri by the world. In his turn, he too, forgot

When, finally, therq came an occasion for him to go to Soura- baya on some sort of a final transaction for the liquidated com- pany ho had forgotten along with other things, the dead Morris- son and his own brief days of activity, the hatred of Schomberg He remembered it when the bearded German glared at him and spat a reluctant consent to his registration at Schomberg^ of It, k' ^"g''^hman with the woman's eyes didn't know of Schomberg's hatred . . . Schomberg himself was rather indefinite as to the original source . . . he only knew that he had a deep antipathy for Heyst . . . that his fingers twitched £em4"htTnfiiJr."'°" ' ^'■'^'^^' '" '=°"'^'"P'^tion of cruelties

Heyst's odd presence inflamed the hatred. Schomberg wanted to talk about it, wanted to plot and plan about it, wanted to allay, it. He had wandered on this desert of his de-

And always Ricardo followed Alma, beg- ging her favors, making rove to her, threatenine her

(Vorty-ont)

MOTION PICTURE

Alma in the power of Pedro

testation long enough. He was parched.

He couldn't talk to Mrs. Schom- berg. The woman had sympathies, despicable trait. Her sympathies, tho, were never for him, for Schomberg. For him she entertained some sort of a primitive passion which did nothing save preclude him from such other, infrequent and diverse pleasures as might chance his way. An occasional native, now . . . Mrs. Schomberg had no sympathies for him . . .

Just now, rankling virulently, was the girl in the Zangiciamo Orchestra, lately arrived from Eastern ports and stopping a few weeks at the hotel en route for California.

The girl was different from most people, from almost all the women who came to Sourabaya. She was white, that was one thing, dead white. She was whiter than the whitest flower ever stjincd with native blood. And her hair was like gold, like the sun that pours like heavy brass, all liquid, over Soura- baya. Her eyes, now, they were blue, sea-blue and sky-blue. She wore a blue uniform, too. Schomberg had a passion, probably Prussian, for uniforms. This one was a particularly taking blue uniform and it matched her eyes. It was adorned with copious brass buttons and considerable gold braid. It fitted her trimly and gave evidence, delicately, of soft, very young lines. She moved gently, too, and rarely spoke.

It was horrible to have the automatic, seldom sympathetic Mrs. Schomberg perpetually between them. It was maddening, like a red banner waved eternally before an inflamed bull. There were so many ways of disposing of automatons on Sourabaya . . .

When Heyst came he listened, tfie first night, to the Zangi- ciamo Orchestra. He didn't know why he went in, and once in, he knew still less why he stayed in. The discord, of course, was quite obvious, and outside the sea was murmuring, almost restfully . . . and there was a low sky, all weighted down with depending stars . . . there was a trade wind . . . thickly spiced . . . Heyst had felt a little dizzy . . .

After the Zangiciamo Orchestra had done he knew why he stayed. He stayed because the very white girl in the impos- sible uniform stayed, solitarily, on the platform, immediately abandoned by the other members of the Lady Orchestra and by Zangiciamo himsetf. She seemed to Heyst to be shrinking, up there on the platform. She wasn't looking at him, either. On the contrary she seemed to be trying very hard not to look at anybody at all, as tho .she were fearful to.

Of course, following the absolute negation, Heyst knew that he should go out at once,' lose himself in the night, let it con- sume him. But he had noticed her as the Lady Orchestra played, vaguely, but still . . . she had had a luminous quality . . . she had seemed to shine softly, faintly, like some fragment of a fallen, drifted moon ... It occurred to Heyst that she was the loneliest thing he had ever seen. He had always, here- tofore, thought that of himself, thought that indigenous to himself. It was a new thought, wholly new. Just as Morrison had been a new thought, Morrison who could weep and wring tremendous hands over the loss of a sailing brig, run with rats and smelling of rope and tar.

Heyst approached the girl and from behind the bar Schom- berg glared and chewed his beard, his mustache, his chin itself.

Schomberg had had three new guests the day before and until this instant he had felt .some sort of a clammy fear of them. One gets fears of that nature on the South Sea Islands. One of the guests had registered himself as Mr. Jones. That was simple and unfearful enough, certainly, but Mr. Jones belied his name. He had a horrible air of a recent gravel. Schomberg swore to his wife, pinching her the while he mouthed his fears, that there was the smell of grave-mould on this Jones. Ghouls had disinterred him, avowed Schomberg in part, and he had drifted here. The ghouls, he thought, were his two companions, Ricardo, an ex-seaman with a smell of fresh blood about him, and Pedro, their Venezuelan servant with fifty devils in his eyes and a smile cruel enough to congeal the blood Ricardo might well be expected to spill.

Tonight, tho, Schomberg saw the three horrors he was

fForty-two)

housing in a different light. That they were bent on human death he was convinced. Plain Mr. Jones had been unearthed fron:i some unholy grave and now he. in his turn, was about to destroy and to raise up. Suppose that Schomberg told them about Heyst, over on Samburan. and about the death of Mor- rison and the hidden treasure. Suppose they left his hotel. these somehow terrible three, and went to seek out Heyst Schomberg crept up to the corridor where the three occupied three lordly rooms. He whisi>eied tn' them thru the evil hours until the dawn, sickly, turned to bannered splendor. Now and again he rubbed his hands violently together and mopped his brow. The pale proximity of the* plain' Mr. (ones beaded him with agues of cold sweat.

The second night, too. Heyst waited for the white girl, who waited, too. On the second night she talked to him. Oddly. he had the dawning feeling that a human being was talking to another human being. Always, before this, he had thought a human being was talking to a shade, soon would sense this to be so, soon would chill and draw away.

Toiiight, with this girl, it was different; how he could not say, did not want to say. She did not draw away, either. They walked on the curving half moon of the white beach along the edge of a lagoon within whose calm transparent breast a single star shivered, yet remained . . .

She told him about herself. Her mother, who wore a great deal of jewelry and then was kind, or who wore none and was rather terribly cruel, who spent a great deal of time out, grew very tired of walking . . . pavements being hard ... Of her father whose name her mother was vague on and so, in conse- quence, was she. He had been a gentleman she said, her mother had told her she was certain of that, as certain as cer- tain . . . a gentleman, she could bank on that . . . that nebulous fact, it seemed, was alone substantial in an insubstantial world thru which this child had drifted, white like a fragment of a moon . . . Her mother had died, after coughing a great deal ... somehow she had got this job with Zangiciamo . . . and she was here and she was very much afraid . . . Zangiciamo and .Schomberg were like two maddened dogs, it seemed ; she

the pitiful bleached small bone between the pair of them . She didn't know . , .

On the third night he waited on the curve of the beach for her. When she came, she came flying. "Oh. Jake me away with vou !" she begged, her breast' torn like the wings of a bird, "take me away. Take me away! I'll work' for you. I'll live for you and die for vou. I wont ever bother you, anv. I wont ... I wont ..." '

It was like, even tho unlike. Morrison attain . . . some- thing battening . . . this time .something soft ... it occurred to Heyst freshly that he was a man . . . that the world about liim was made up of two component parts . . . man and woman . . . fundamentally, inescapably . . . and that he was, he. Axel Heyst, was the man and this white girl clinging to him, was the woman . . .

He took her with him to Samburan, escaping that night, with the help of Mrs. Schomberg, only too glad to be rid of her, and Davidson who passed to and fro on his schooner and had done sundry small services for Heyst in the past.

She made a difference in the bungakjw on the island. Heyst admitted that almost at once. It seemed to him, unobtru- sively, as tho the house were flower-filled, even while he knew that it was not. Everything seemed softer and, at the same time, sharper.. He, himself, seemed to be somehow quick- ened. Things were more acute, possessed more significance; daily things such as the eatingof meals, thedrinkingof tea before dusk, dinner by candle light. Heretofore they had been things to be got thru with, generally with a newspaper propped before his plate. Now . . . now he liked to linger over each detail of each one of them . . . there were her hands to watch, daily miracles, her eyes catching, holding, giving forth to him, again and again, new and amazing lights. Her talk ... all to him. Suppose she should ever talk in the same way to any other person, to any other

man. He knew, with his new- Alma made the next sudden

ly awakening self, that he move— a knife flashed thru

wouldn't like that. And then, the air — Ricardo toppled over

(Continued on page 81)

(Forty-three)

Helen Lee Worthing, one of tne honor leaders in our Fame and Fortune Contest, has an important role in Ned Weyburn's revue at the Capitol Theater. She may be observed at the left assisting the Capitol constructors

(Forty-four)

At The

World's

Foremost

Screen

Theater

Broadway's newest home of the photoplay, the Capitol Theater, is now open. This de luxe film institution fea- tures an elaborate musical revue, in which Lauretta Harris, at the right, and Helen Herendeen, below, have leading roles

(forty- five)

/

The Hidden Egyptian

Exclusive Photographs by NELSON EVANS

Clothes, and, if he happens to be in "the speakies/' it even influences his diction If the truth were recognized, it would be seen that men- tally, at least, he frequently goes on playing it forever.)

-Think over all the players, both of the stage and screen, whose work you have followed and see if you can pick out the character or scene ihat they love the best. Frequently, you will find it very easy. You Lst use your detective powers, however. No true artist ever repeats a favorite scene or a favorite character in all o its details. But will creep out; as is the case with all true love they cannot help but sliow it Even the very versatile Edith Storey has a love of this kind liidden behind her many distinct and perfect characterizations. If you watch her closely, you niay see it there; a persistent suggestion of the Egyptian, in her clothes, her dry quiet humor her enigma .c ^^'e^ Her favorite part was in "Dust of Egypt," a comedy made by the Vitagraph Company about four years ago.

"It was so entirely different from anything I have ever done that eve y moment of it was a pleasure," she sa id (she had on a dres of every muinc t- ,^^^,,^5^^ striped organdie at the time.

Later when the photographer saw her, she had on a different dress but it was , striped, just the same).

"In the beginning of the picture, I was an Egyptian princess. Nothing could stand in the way of my getting anything I wanted. I could take it or liave it brought to me. My will was hw absolute. And then this Princess died and her mummy came to life in the present century. (In the end it

The most noticeable thing about Edith Storey is her sin- cerity. She has the most ex- quisite sense of humor and her viewpoint on life is a very lovely one, indeed. "I am a regular tomboy," she ex- plains. "My brother and 1 are the best pals in the world''

HAVE you ever stopped to think how many dif- ferent kinds of love affairs there a re ? But of course you have; everyone does at some time or oth- er I There is, fpr in- stance, puppy love that doesn't last, and Indian summer love, that doesn't last eith- er. There is the love of the leading man for the leading wo- man (on the screen) — ^and the love of the leading woman for the leading man (who is usually a member of some oth- er company) ofT of it and this last s — sometimes. But there is one love that lasts thru life and be- yond, and that is the love of a player for his, or her, favorite part.

(It influences his mannerisms, h i s

By Elizabeth Peltret

turns out that she was the crea- ture of a dream).

"Her su'-rounclit)gs were no longer regal, but the princess had not changed in the least. She wants to use a certain table as a couch. It is loaded with beautiful things, but she just brushes them off — (Miss Storey illustrated with & non- chalant gesture) — and orders a bear rug that she fancies brought to her.

"The sub-titles were so good, too.

"Without being in the least conscious that she is saying anything unusual, the Princess remarks to her host, speaking of his wife, 'The Woman is old and ugly ; why dont you send her away and get a younger one?' A man inter- feres with some little thing her Highness wants done and she deliberately attempts to stab him . . . But always she is possessed of a deep inward sense of her dignity as a prin- cess . . . ."

Perhaps the most noticeable thing about Edith Storey is heri sincerity. She has a dry, quiet way of talking, her voice is low, rather "husky" perhaps, and even in tone, but never monotonous. She has brown hair, with the prettiest possible little wave in it, and large oval-shaped brown eyes.

The first thing you notice about Edith Storey is her deep humani- ty. She has a gift of fitting in any scene or becoming one of any group of people in any walk of life. The scenes on these two pages show Miss Storey at her California home

She has the most exqui.sitc sense of luiiiior and her viewpoint on life is a very lovely one indeed,

"I'm not looking very far ahead, towards any wiilc or distant hori- zon." she said; "1 like to do the tliini; tlial is with me now. in the licst possible manner. I like to keep busy. 1 dont even like to sit still and read unless I am doing it for some definite purpose. I would much rather be outdoors. I l('\e nieehanics ; T can do almost any- thing about an automobile down to taking it apart and putting it to- gether again. 1 am a regular tom- boy ; my brother and I are the best pals in the world."

He is three years younj;er than his famous sister and enlisted in the navy immeiliately after the declara- tion of war. Edith Storey enlisicd {Conthntcd on f^ni/c 7.^'>

/

Marie: The Mystic

M'

Three glimpses of Marie Walcamp at home and motoring. Miss Walcamp, be- fore she gained her success on the screen as a daring cinema serial belle, was a show girl in musical comedy

By FRITZI REMONT

ARiF. Walcami' will do any sort of stunt so long as she has faith in her director.

And let me whisper: Marie is so sensitive to thought transference that nobody working near her dares think anything that Marie isn't supposed to know.

Now isn't that sensitiveness queer in a girl who is a death-defying, gymnastic wonder?

Miss Walcamp's eye.s. change color while you talk to her — from grey to hazel, from hazel to grey. Everything about Marie suggests mysticism. Her smile is inscru- table. No two people know her in the same way. In- wardly, she is perfectly sincere, but outwardly she is as changeable as a chameleon.

She may be happy one moment and somberly reflective the next. She isn't just exactly beautiful, but her great individuality marks her as one having a beautiful soul. She is reserved and likes to spend odd rr.oments in reading and study. At night she usually reads herself into a sleepy mood, then tucks the book away under her pillow so that it can easily be drawn forth the first thii:<r in the morning.

Miss Walcamp has a great deal of humor. You need watch her smile but a moment to be convinced of that. She has a large mouth, with perfect white teeth, slightly overlapping on the upper row, and that is why Marie wont smile often before the camera. Meeting her occasionally, one would not even notice the slight irregularity unless Miss Walcamp mentioned it, for her teeth give one only the impression of wonderful strength, resistance and per- fect health. However, serial pictures never require smiles, so perhaps that's why the girl changed from comedy to stunts,

"Did you ever attend a seance?" I asked. I hadn't known about the Anna Eva Fay business up to that time, but Marie's mystic eyes — eyes which make one think of looking thru seven veils and trying to pierce an inner shrine — had given me courage to accuse her of being a psychic.

"Yes. just once. It was in a town far away from here when I was about twelve years old. .Mother heard of a spiritualists' meeting and decided that it would be interesting for us to go and get a 'message.' if possible. I had always a.stonished her by my sud- den hunches, and .she was more or less interested in psychic phenomena anyway, so she mustered up courage enough to take me. It was her first expe- rience also.

"We sat in a darkened room. I felt delicious thrills of expectancy and just a little shiver of fear. After a silence, the medium said — and oh, oh, he was so funny, with an im- pediment in his speech — well, he said, 'Thumbuddy kicked my calvthes awful hard just then. Does anybody here weck- onize that spthirit?'

"I forgot all about thrills, fear, spirits and good behavior, because the idea of being kicked on the shins was so irresistibly funny. I laughed and laughed until I almost rolled off my chair, and then it struck mother, too, and she began to suppress giggles, and a man asked us to leave — and we did! So my first and last seance was a' real failure and. I never tried it again. I told mother I was sorry we hadn't behaved well, for I did want to see a spirit that had gumption enough to announce its presence in such a forcible way. I always did admire people who had the courage of their con- victions, no matter what form they took."

(Forty-eight)

Miss Walcamp's first Blm work was in a Lee and Moran com- edy at Universal. Her first real chance came in the serial, "Patria," with Irene Castle. After that she did "Liberty" for Universal

"Do you have liunclies about getting hurt when you do stunts ?"

"Oh, often. Last week, when Mr. Mac- Gowan was going to throw that block of wood at me, of course, aiming to avoid actually hitting me, I said, 'You are going to bit my head with it.' He said he would aim low and never get near my head. A few minutes later I was almost knocked out by the block ! I guess that ought to be the other way around, tho." Again the alluring smile brightened Marie Walcamp's hazel-grey eyes.

"Did you ever play anything along occult lines?"

"Well, you know my coming into the picture? M'as rather strange. I'll tell you just how I happened to be cast for Bob Leonard's 'The Evil Power,' which was a hypnotic play with a very powerful part in it for nie. I certainly loved doing it.

"I was a showgirl with Kolb and Dill and had a great admiration for Laura Oakley, who was their leading woman. Every night I'd go to her dressing-room and watch her make up, glad to get any advice from her as to acting and the show business, or ready to sit quietly by and study her if she reheansed anything. At that time she was working in pictures as well as with the comedians on the stage.

"One night she suddenly turned to me and said, 'Marie, why dont you try for the pictures? I think you'd make good. You have ex- cellent features for the business.' I said, 'Oh, I dont know ; I hardly think I'd have a chance, do you?' She replied, 'Well, nothing like trying. Come out to Univer.sal witn me tomorrow and I'll introduce you.'

"Next day I accompanied her early in the morning and was put right into a comedy with Lee and Moran ; then I had a chance to work for Mr. Leonard in the occult play; then two pictures with Daddy Turner and 'The Village Blacksmith' with Harry Pollard. I did a great many dramatic leads after that with Otis T'lrner and Mr. Pollard.

"The first two weeks I worked I earned ninety dollars a week. I simply couldn't believe it. You know what the life of a showgirl means hardly a cent left for necessaries, so much goes for board (Continued on paije 72)

(Fnrty-nine)

/

The Girl from Out Yonder

Fictionized from the Selznick-Olive Thomas Photoplay

By Dorothy Donnell

"X/OL- lo^^t some of vour hair, and all of your complexion

Y and one sandal," itemized Flotsam, dispassionately. 1

gues^ that's all. Luckily I happened to be out with the

lobster pots." She lifted one foot and scratched the ankle ot

the other with a bare pink toe in a carefree manner. Like that

king of France who replied to a

courtier venturing to criticize one of

his acts, "I am the State!" Flotsam

might have said "Convention? I am

Convention !"

Mrs. Reggie Elmer, who had spent a very bad five minutes clinging to an unstable lobster pot and wishing fervently that she had been a bet- ter woman, giggled hysterically and made a futile attempt to wring a considerable portion of the Atlantic Ocean out of her salmon colored hair. "If you hadn't come along when you did — " she chattered, "my friends would have been saying, 'how natural she looks' in a day or so ! I suppose I am a perfect sight — you haven't a powder puflf about you. have you?"

The young person in the baggy

corduroy breeches shook her curly

brown head. "N o p e. I

wanted to send for one

out of a Sears Roebuck catalog but Fardie wouldn t let me. If you come up to the house you canhave some tlour, tho. .\re you a w:ck-ender or a permanent?" _

Mrs Elmer seemed tn be staring thru a lorgnette. Us all very well to Ir.ve vour life saved, and all that but it does put one under obligation to such odd people 1 'I beg your par- don?" she queried, frostily, "if you mean am I summer board- er at the Point, no. That is my yacht off the Reef.

Flotsam was serenely unconscious of bemg snubbed 1 thought I hadn't seen you at the Light," she rejoined, pulling the fjreat oars thru the water with magnificent sweeps of her strong young arms, "we're one of the sights, you know. All the summer folks come out to the Reef in Abe Barrow s motor boat and .squeal when ihcy climb up the stairs, and say how pictures-yiif' and 'I suppose its frightfully lonesome winters, and buy souvenir postcards."

On the rocky ledge they were approaching two figures stood looking out into the dazzle of blue and gold. The one, sinewy, sliehtly stooping, with grizzled grey showing beneath the oil- skin hat, waved his hand as the dory swept about the ledge. "Thar they be!" he beamed, "I told ye my gal 'ud find her. She's the greatest hand to be pickin' up queer things out of the water, once 'twas a turtle, and once a devil fish and now your

Ma!" ,. . , u

"Aunt " corrected his companion with a slight cough. He was a handsome, well-tailored young fellow whom Captain Joe Barton had classified already as "a city toff." Just now his expression was oddiv compounded of anxiety, amusement and boredom. Edward Elmer was usually bored. He found thi flavor of Life insipid to his tongue, as is usually the plight o! those who have never wanted anything they could not have.

"Oh Eddie !" chattered his aunt, hysterically as she tottereo over the side of the boat. "Oh, Eddie, it's a miracle I'm not lying at the bottom of the Atlantic! And after all those ex- pensive swimming lessons I took too! But this water was wetter, or at least it seemed so— it behaved so oddly— and I got a punc- ture in one of mv water wings— oh, Eddie, I have a feeling that when I get around to it I'm going to have hysterics — "There, there, Tootles!" her nephew soothed her perfunctorily, patting her upon the back— the i-'ifalh- ble masculine remedy for all feminine ills whether of body or soul. But his eyes strayed undutifuUy from the sod'cn salmon tinted head upon his .shoulder to the quaint little figure dragging the dory up beyond the water line.

Flotsam was small, but her sturdy boy s attire gave her a look anything hut frail. She had crisp bronze hair, an audacious tip-tilted nose, a mouth, just a .shade too large for classic perfection, not a whit too large for charm, and eyes that, from long gazing had caught ■,c color of the sea. blue and gold, darkening into slate

grey when there was a storm brew- ing. She gazed di- rectly and honestly at Edward Elmer without a trace of t h e sex-conscious- ness which a pretty girl usually shows when meeting a good-looking man. Gasping and gig- gling, Mrs. Elmer chattered out an in- troduction and fled up the rocks to the shelter of the light- house for her bath- ing suit was of the kind that is intend- ed for beach bath- ing, and likely t o dissolve embarrass- ingly when in con- tact with water. Captain Barton fol- lowed, leaving t h e two young people alone. Flotsam stood poised on a peak of granite, humming a little song, apparently quite unaware that Convention expect- ed her to make con- versation when she had nothing to say. There was nothing uneasy about her si- lence ; it was that of the sea itself, brooding without revealing its s o u 1.

Edward, who was used to girls that chattered, girls that tit- tered, girls that flirted, girls that gossiped, but not to girls who said nothing at all, found himself suddenly desirous of hear- ing her speak.

"It was certainly deuced lucky you were out this morning." he began, with a smile intended to put her quite at her ease, a smile that seemed to say, "Dont be abashed by my grandeur, little girl. I'm awfully democratic and all that!"

"Wasn't it?" rejoined Flotsam, continuing to gaze out to sea with unflattering interest in the fleet of fishing boats just jutting out from harbor. Devil take it, but she was really ex- traordinarily pretty — rigged out in one of Clarice's gowns she'd be a winner. His tone lost a trifle of its patronage and ac- quired deference.

"Tootles ought not to go swimming in anything deeper than a bathtub," he confided, "she loses her head too easily ! So you live out here on the Reef, do you? I suppose you must — "

"Xo," replied Flotsam, coolly, "I dont get lonesome winters at all. Yes, indeed. I love the ocean. No, I've never been to Xew York. Yes, I'd like to. I'm not your baby doll, thank you, and I dont care to row over to the mainland some day and take a little ride in your car."

Edward F.lmer stared at the mutinous little face blankly a moment then burst into a roar of laughter. "So that's what they say to you, is it? Then I wont say it. We'll talk about anything you choose, only do let me stay and talk. I'd like to awfully well, honestly!"

Unexpectedly the stormy face opposite broke into dimples. Flotsam sat down on the roc!<s beside him with as much grace, in spite of her salt-stained corduroys and clumsy shoes, as tho she wore organdie and patent leather pumps. "Then tell me," she begged him. hungrily, "every single thing you know about rlollu-s" Her tone quickened, her eyes held

(Fifliioiu)

And so began, on the rocks beside the morning sea, the stsry that was to lead to other, stranger chapters

a light almost holy. "Are they still wearing narrow skirts?" breathed Flotsam, "and tight sleeves, and are the hats turned up or down?"

And so began, on the rocks beside the morning sea, the story that was to lead to oiher, stranger chapters, as the sea has other, somberer phases. It was the first of many talks they had, Edward doiiT? most of the talking, while Flotsam .sat enthralled, listening to the tale of a world as remote from her ken as Fairyland.

"Why you allow it!" marvelled Clarice Stapleton. with the edge of spite in her voice, "that common little thing knows well enough who he is and how much money he has! Of course, I dont mean to imply that Eddie could be so ridiculous as to think of marrying her, but that sort is danger- ous. Marriage isn't the only way to get hold of a rich man's

money '

Mrs.' Elmer looked shrewdly at the speaker. Morning was always unbecoming to Clarice, tho she was still able to shine under electricity. In the full, hard light her face showed every one of the thirty-two years — she only confessed to twenty- eight — of struggle and disappointment. Clarice had tried (lesjierately to marry alnrost every eligible young man she had inet since her debut, and the campaigns had left their traces in fine lines about her rather pale eyes, in a certain acidity of vievnoint, and drawn expression about lips that art rendered a vivid Vermillion.

"She's young and pretty, you must retnember," she remarT<ed sweetly, and apparently without guile, "even in those outrag- eous togs slit wears she manages to look like a little soubrette

in ,. mu>-.cai comedy, and withal she's as utterly natural ad unaffected as a wild rose." It was not that Mrs. Elmer really approved of Flotsam as a prospective niece-m-law, but— as any feminine reader will uiulcrstand— she took tli.stinct pleasure in making Clarice writhe.

There were others than those on the yacht who regarded with alarm the friendship of Edward Elmer, clubman, million- aire first-nighter of all musical shows and Flotsam— the Oirl ( )ut' Yonder, the village called her. Of these, one, Joey Clarke, heavy of hand and feature, with hair burned a strange, tawny rc<l by long davs of fishing under the blazing sun, was the bit- terest'. Twenty-nine was Joey, a hard man, his fellows called him— a dangerous man. He could drink any other fisherman on the coast under the table without anything to show for it outwarilly save a tendency to smile and talk more than when he was sober. He could strike with his tarry fist a blow like that of a sledge hammer. He could hate faithfully— could love bitterly. .\nd he loved Flotsam Barton. There was a burn- ing in his eyes when he looked at her, a thickness on his tongue when he spoke to h' . , ,,

"Cioing to let the city dude cut you out, Joey." his fellow fishermen jibed as the dory with Elmer and Flotsam put out from the Reef, "I hear they're as good as promised a'ready. What gal who c'n have silk gownds and a fine house in the city is going to choose a fisherman's shack?"

To none of (heir jeers did Joe Clarke reply but his jaw had an ugly set, and his eyes, under scowling brows smouldered. Alone in his three-roomed shanty he considered possibilities. She had liked him well enough before that damned dude with his silk socks and silkier words had come. She would like him —well enough, if he should go. .\nd he should go.

"I could kill him," Joey muttered, and played with the thought for a moment, but in the end relinquished it. "But I'm not going to. I'm not hankering to spend the rest Of my years in jail — or mebbe get kicked out o' life with a dose of iectricity. But if he stays much longer it'll be too" late — he's I'ot to go, but how — "

His great fist came crashing down on the pine table, setting

MOTION PICTURE

the dishes chaflering with nervousness. His lips drew nack. "Why didn't I think of that afore?" he blazed, "if that dont .send h'im kiting nothing will !"

Edward Elmer was surprised the next morning, to see the sliaggy head and lowering face of the most unprepossessing fisherman on the Cape rise over the edge of the yacht to be followed by six foot two of oilskins smelling vilely of fish long defunct. "I beg your pardon. Mister," Joey Clarke said sur- lily, ''but might it be as how I could speak with ye, a moment ?" But when the desired permission was given he seemed at a loss how to begin. His great hands, shaggy with black hair twisted his greasy cap, his eyes were fixed upon the far-away ledge of the (ireat Reef Light. When he did speak the words seemed somehow wrimg out of himself. "It's about Flot.sam Barton. I've heard you're sweet on her — is that so?"

[•Ilmer's eyes flashed dangerously, but his tone was level ! "I'dont recognize your right to ask such a question. However, if it is the least interest to you I am quite willing to tell you that I intend to marry Flotsam. And now — if that was quite all — " he gestured suggestively toward the gangway, "it would be a pity to lose a morning's fishing — "

Joey Clarke's great hands worked silently with the hat, a slov,-, dreadful twisting movement as tho he were strangling something. "You cant marry her," he said, "you cant marry her. It isn't safe — she comes from a bad stock — "

Edward Elmer laughed scornfully, then, little by little the hiugh became mechanical and forced as his eyes studied the other's face. "Just what" — he wet his lips — "just what do you mean?"

"I mean," Joey Clarke said heavily, with monotonous inflec- tion, "that she's the daughter of a murderer! And what's more Barton killed his own father. That's why he's tending the loneliest light on the coast — to keep out of the way o' the Law !"'

"You're crazy," stammered Elmer, ashy of face, "stark crazy !"

"You dont believe it?" Joey pointed toward the Reef, wtiite in the sunlight. "Ask him then! He knows I know it — 'twas me as found the old man with his head beat in and him lying in a drunk alongside with his hands — red — "

Captain Barton touched the great brass reflector with his cham- ois as a mother touches the cheek of a new-born child. Next to Flotsam, singing below over her housework he adored his Light. It was somehow a symbol to him, those clear white rays brush-

V<

/

\ ^,

(Fifty two)

CLASSIC

ing the darkness triumphantly away —

"Captain Barton !" He turned, startled, then extended a hear- ty hand.

"Mister Elmer ! I didn't hear ye, ain't you a mite early this mornin? Flotsam's down- stairs— "

"I didn't come to see Flotsam," the boy said tragically. The agony in the young eyes searching the tanned weatherbeaten face be- fore him drove the smile from the lighthouse keeper's lips. "I came to see you. To ask you — this man Clarke here says that you — Oh, I cant say it ! He must be lying — he is lying, isn't he. Captain?"

The strength seemed to go from the gaunt figure before them. All at once he was an old broken man, an old frightened man with quivering lips that worked loosely and cheeks that twitched. His eyes roved dully from Elmer's tense face to Joey Clarke's implacable one. "So he's told ye?" he wheezed, "I've been payin' him for fifteen year to keep shet o' it. But — it's true — leastwise I s'pose it's true — "

"You suppose it's true?" the boy snapped furiously, "dont you know?"

"I was drunk," Captain Bar- ton said, heavily, "I used to go on sprees — those days. A n d 1 come out o' one of them with Joey here, shaking me, and hollerin' — and there was Pap — andmyclo'es all over blood — "

"God !" said F.lmer, and shrank away shuddermg. Below stairs came the sound of a brisk broom and ihe lilt of a clear soprano. "I have heard the mavis singing, her love song to the morn — "

"She dont know," the father cried, as tho in answer to some unspoken argument. "What makes you look so queer like? It ain't her fault! She ain't done nothin'," he plucked feverish- ly at the boy's sleeve, "what you turnin' away like that for? You aint — going — to leave her 'count — of me — "

"I've got to!" In the face of Life's realities all the affecta- tions and artificialities dropped away from Edward l''lnier, and he spoke with his soul to the ear,-, of the other's soul. "I love Flotsam — but I'd be afraid, afraid hideously, of the taint in her, afraid of what — my son would be and do — "

"She's good!" babbled the old man. "I wont never see her again —if you'll take her away — I'll promise you vou wont never hear of me! I'll give myself up, and tell 'em Pap didn't fall onto the cellar floor like they thought. I'll — I'll do any- thin' you say. on'y dont break my baby's heart, dont — "

"I'm breaking my heart, too." But he was turning away, young shoulders sagging, young lips stubborn. "Tell her good- bye for me. I — couldn't bear — I'll have .\unty leave before another morning — oh, Flotsam — "

Moments, hours passed, and the old man in the Light tower stood motionless, then he lifted his face to the great blind blue that showed thru the glass dome overhead. "Help me t' lie. God!" Captain Barton praved. "help me t' have my little gal."

Flotsam gave a cry at the sight of the face he turned toward her, but he stilled her terrified questioning with a gesture. "I got to tell you something that breaks my heart, baby," he said, thru stiff lips that smiled dreadfully, "but it's the on'y way. I'm not — not yore pappy, not by blood — "

Hours later. Captain Barton climbed the stairs that led to

(Fifty-three)

And he loved Flotsam Barton. There was a burning in his eyes when he looked at her, a thickness on his tongue when he spoke to her

the Light, holding desper- ately to the iron rail. H i s knees shook beneath him, his head felt oddly dizzy and confused, incapable of thinking of anything but his duty — the Light that he must send out into the swift autumn darkness, the Light that must not fail whether hearts broke or no.

"First o' all that." nuuiibled he, as he dragged himself up stair by stair, "and after — I'll think o' Flotsam — an' the rest — "

Out somewhere in the dusk he had left her, palmer's arm about her. with her face, half frightened, half sorry, yet some- how wholly glad, turned to him as he waved her good-bye and dropped over the rail. The ethics of what he had done did not occur to him. He had denied his fatherhood to save her happiness, that was all of it, no more, no less. He had told his lie so well that it had pa.-ised as truth, and he thanked God. Somewhere out there — he looked down upon the dark heaving water.s — the yacht was lifting anchor to take his little girl away from him. out into the world where even his thoughts would get lost in trying to follow —

"Th' Light— it's pitchy dark a'ready." He was working feverishly now. "Supposin' it shouldn't be lighted and the boat should go on the rocks! Where'cl I leave them matches— (/"orf"'

For his hand, groping in the thick darkness had touched another hand. Joey Clarke's voice leaped upon his ears like some sava?e animal. "No you dont! The Liijht aint going to be lighted to-night. Get me? It ain't (joing to be lighted"

For a moment Barton did not understand. He even tried to laugh in a forlorn, helpless way. "V'hat do you rnean. Joey? You're jokin'! I got to hurry becaubc the yacht and it's dark — "

leavin' —

the

i^

•it"s not leavin !" Dreadful mirth shook tlie great body be- side him. "at least— not far. Send Flotsam away, would you? She was mme. 1 lell you-.iim.-.' .\nd she aint goin' to be any- body else's I"

There was niadne>s in the wild words, in the gleam of the eye- balls in the darkncsv. madness in the clutch of the great, hairy hand>. "(iit out o' here, Marton ! I'll tend the Light to-nighl ! Git out o' here afore I serve you as 1 served your rai)|>y fifteen year ago —

It was not until the door crashed behind him that Ca|ilniii Uarton realized the meaning of the last words. He heat the paiiel> with imi>otciit hands, hut the stout ash mocked his efforts. He >houted. begged, prayed, and listened to the walls Kiss hi- own crie> back u|Min him. From w ithin the Light tower was awful silence. He slid to his knees and peered thni the keyhole— darkness, utter, merci- les>. and— out there, helpless in the night yacht driving on the rocks — Flotsam —

.Somehow he had staggered down the stairs and into the kitchen, found matches, a can of oil. "Ju>t a minute, dearie, I-'ardie's comin'!" the oid man groaned. He lifted a wooden chair, brought it down upon the stove with ter- rific force that nearly tore his arms from their sm-kets. I'everishly he poured oil on the splinters .Vnother chair — another — cla-ping the bundle of faggots in his arm. he -taggered out into the windy dark, and felt hi> way down the rocks. F.ven by daylight it was a hard path lo negotiate, steep, with unexpcctc<l pit- falls and ti--ures, but he panted on. falling, crawling on his hands and knee- Below him, and strange- ly near, sounded the hiss of t h e water on the pointed rocks. He strained h i s eyes and thought he saw lights moving thru the darkness — "Just a min- ute, d e a r i e," moaned F 1 o t- .sam's father, and touched a match to the oil-soaked

w-ood. The flames streamed on the wind like wild locks of a Valkyrie's hair. Above him from the darkened tower came a «hout of fury. then, sickeningly the sound of a body hurled from a great height upon the rocks— afterward silence.

The torch flared higher, casting wild shadows. In the red light of it the old man's face was hallowed with prayer. "Keep her safe— please Cxi ! My baby-keep her safe, please God !" "Fardie!" Light footsteps ran across the rocks, and Flotsam w^s beside him. straining him to her with strong voung arms Fardie! What are you doing' Dont look so. Fardie; it's me Flotsam! I've come back, and I'm never again !"

He conTmued to wave the torch, staring down at her stupidly Bu.-youcant! You're going to be a lady-" His knees weak-

MOTION PICTURE CLASSIC

ened. She pushed him gently down and took the torch from him, holding it steadily.

"I'd rather be just Flotsam. To-night — when I saw them dancing — the fine ladies, in their fine dresses — I knew that you'd lied, and that I was truly your girl, and didn't want to be anything else — " her voice broke, denying her brave words, but she went on. "He told me. Edward — everything. And so 1 came back to tell you it dichi't make any difference and I loveil you. 1 rowed away while they were dancing. They'll never miss me, Fardie — 1 didn't belong there; I belonged here on tile (ireat Keef — Out Yonder; I belong to the Light, Fardie, and to you '."

".\iid tome. I'lotsam!'' .said a new voice in from the shadow. Tall and handsome in his evening clothes. Edward I'.lmer stepped into the golden ring of light, hands outlield. "You didn't suppose you could run away from jiie, did you. dear!' They had both forgotten the silent figure of the old man, crouched among his rocks, and, looking from young face to young face shining with a light that was not from the dying torch, Captain Barton rose softly and stole away. Later there would be things to be told, later he might free his name from the taint that Joey Clarke, lying somewhere stark- 'y on the rocks had fastened upon it fif- teen years ago. Later he miglit reclaim the fathership he had denied. He sprang

Out somewhere in the dusk he had left her, El- mer's arms about her, with her face half frightened, half sorry, yet somehow wholly glad, turned to him as he waved her good-bye and dropped over the rail

up the steep ledge, into the tower and up the stairs to where the door swung open at the top. A scratch of the match, a flicker of a wick — and the Light shone out, splendid, .serene, over the dark fields of the sea.

He held out his hands to the rays of it, ecstatic. "The Light — is stronger than tlie darkness — " cried Captain Barton, triumphantly, "what's there for us to be afraid of. God?"

going to leave vou

THE EXCEF'TiON By ll'altcr Puliht-r There's chani;o in evcrvthinc, alas' except a fcliow'.s pocket! This world is full uf chances; there's nothing liere aliiding ; All ihinRS are evanescent, flectiiijj. transitory, glifiinp. Tlic rartli, the sea. the .sky, the stars — where'er the fancy ranges. The tooth of Time forever mars — all life is full of ehan^jes. Like 'anrls upon the ocean's shore that are forever drifting. So all the fading sreiics ,if earth incrssaiitl\' arc shifting. Change rules the nii^?,hty uni\crse — there is no power to block it.

< Fifliifimrj

Double Exposures

Conducted by F. J. S.

TiiF. waif and her pitiful little pet ge- ranium are always with us. Witness the opening scenes of De Mille's "Male and Female" and of Toumeur's "The Life Line."

A company has been formed out in Los Angeles to film the Bible in 204 reels. Some directors we know can ha r dly

g e t a n '~

ordinary s t,o r y into that length.

Recently we presented our com- posite feminine star of the films. This month we offer our ideal screen male star with :

Lloyd Hamilton's hair.

Ben Turpin's eyes.

Bull Montana's ears.

Chester Conklin's mouth.

Ford Sterling's chin.

"Fatty" Arbuckle's torso.

Charlie Chaplin's legs.

One of the New York newspapers has been listing the most popular lines of the spoken drama. We submit the following three subtitles to represent the photo- drama :

"A lily growing in the mire."

"Poor but honest."

"The dawn of a new day."

upon the cold-blooded and brainless way producers twist titles about. Incident- ally, Mr. Stroheim notes thaf Carl Laemmle, president 3f U., de- ends his c h a n gr by saying that "there are more blind husbands in the world than pinnacles" and that, therefore, more people would go to see the re-titled picture. Which, we sub- mit, is considerable reasoning!

V

Our all feminine football team for the season of 1919-1920:

Gloria Swanson Left End

Dorothy Gish Left Tackle

Wanda Hawley Left Guard

Louise Fazepda Center

Corinne Griffith .' , Right Guard

Kebe Daniels. .....: Right Tackle

May Allison Right End

Theda Bara Quarterback

Lillian Gish Left Halfback

Katherine MacDonald. .Right Halfback Elsie Ferguson Fullback

"Syd Chaplin Finds Europe Is Un- settled" is the heading of The Motion Picture News story of the come- dian's attempt to produce on the other side. Something of a dis- covery, we'll say.

Big Screen Moment of the Month Bebe Daniels in the allegory of "Male and Female."

Courtesy Mack Sennett Comedies

The British are protesting about American bathing girl comedies. Why ? The bathing girl is the screen prototype of the stage chorus girl. There is no other way to logically introduce the flapper except as an aquatic charmer, hence the bathing girl farce. Why permit the real thing behind the footlights and pro- test at an animated photograph of it i

Erich Stroheim has been pur- chasing pages in the trade papers to complain about the way Universal shifted the title of "The Pinnacle." which he wrote and directed, to "Blind Husbands." It's about time some one took a determined stand

(Fifty-fne)

LILLIAN GISH By Chaplotte Becker

A fairy's gifts were on her cradle shed — This Pierrette of the screen, whose happy wit And dainty store of fancy exquisite.

Seems fragrant of old gardens, quaintly spread

With tangled blooms of roses, white and red: As with swift gleams of joy or sadness lit Her winsome, little, wistful gestures flit

Thru pictures hy lier grace dream-garlanded

Sparkling with youth, her charm, shy, whim- sical, Enchanled-wise sets memory astir Unto the tunc of some forgotten dance. And leads, altho the leaves of autumn fall. Thru paths of rosemary and lavender, Back to that far-olT country of romance.

"Aye, there's the rub," com- ments some one on noting that Chris Rub has been signed as comedian by Universal.

How impressive are statistics! Mary Pickford's tabulator states that Little Mary will make 15 miles of drama in 1920 and that 100,000,- 000 people will crowd theaters in every land to see her. The subtitles of her plays will be translated into seven languages, including Chinese and Japanese. We'd like to see "Pollyanna" in Swedish.

".•\merican films are stimulating a

desire among Brazilians to learn the

English language," says The London

Kinematoyraph. "Perhaps the pres-

{Continued on page 83)

Above. Sylvia Breamer, in "Dawn"; right. Geraldine Farrar and Lou-Tellegen in "Flame of the Desert"; below. Douglas Mac- Lean and Doris May in "23V: Hours Leave"

The Celluloid Critic

The Month's Photoplays in Review

Two absolutely unheralded photoplays stand out of our month in the screen theater. One takes its place as a veritable celluloid cameo — and easily one (if the best pictures of the year.

riiis silverscrccn gem is "The Gay Old Dog," (Pathe), based upon an Edna Ferber story. It was adapted — and admirably adapted — to the films by Mrs. .Sidney Drew and produced by Hobart Henley. Since we have long recognized Mrs. Drew's ability to sound the human note and Mr. Henley has heretofore been a director of no particular distinction, we give the major share of the credit to the former. Possibly we are wrong. Anyway, there is honor enough for both.

Now "The Gay (M Dog." isn't dramatic, hasn't the so-called "punch'' ; indeed, it violates most all of what producers have deemed to be photoplay essentials. It is just a slice of life. It moves lei.surely, without forcing, to its logical con- clusion. Its story? The bitter fate of one Jimmy Dodd, who, weighted down by his dvinf mother's request that he "look out" for his three sisters, sacrifices his own love and hopes for his family. Then, as the years pass, he finds himself alone and loveless and he tries to be a "gay old dog." But he just cant — and so the picture ends wit!; the "gay old dog"' just a "tired, lonely old man in a ridicu- lous rose- room gone suddenly drab."

This brief summary does not begin to reveal the direct humanness with which Mr. Henley and Mrs. Drew have unfolded Miss Ferber's tale. If "The Gay Old Dog" doesn't reach your heart — well, something is the matter with your heart. The tear is there, the tear of a vital heart-throb. We beg of you to see it, if only to observe the way thought can be put across on the screen.

John Cumberland, "the gay old dog," has been playing so long before the footlights in risque boudoir farces that we had come to think him just an average comedian. But his playing in "The Gay Old Dog" is superb in its sublety. The remainder of the cast is well chosen. Indeed, "The Gay Old Dog" is well nigh faultless. The subtitles, for instance, are gems of fine screen expression, so rare these days. The other pleasant surprise of the month was "23p2 Hours Leave," (Para- mount), an adapted Mary Roberts Rinehart story, which introduces a new juvenile team, Douglas MacLean and Doris May, to the films. This is a de- lightful comedy revolving around a nervy young rookie's love for the daugh- ter of the commanding officer of his camp. There is a delightful freshness to the handling and scores of unforced laughs. Young MacLean proves to be a very pleasant young come- dian of whom we expect a great deal. .\nd let us not for- get the director in giving credit where credit is due.

.Since David Griffith gave us his epic, "Broken Blossoms." we again look forward to new productions emanating from his studios with something of the expectation we once awaited his old-time Biographs. Mr. Griffith'.s latest, "Scarlet Days," (Paramount), is a tale of the mining camps of '49, built around a young outlaw, Alva- rez, said to have been a real character of California hi.story. There is nothing particular about Mr. Griffith's melodra- matic opus, altho Mr. Griffith, by a multitude of tiny touches, gets a little closer to what the

(Fifty-six)

By FREDERICK JAMES SMITH

real pioneers and dance-hall favorites must have hccn. lUit ".Scar- let Days" is distinctive in at least one item: Kichard Harthelnicss' portrayal of Alvarez, a sensitive, finely attuned romantic perform- ance. Little Clarine Seymour makes a Mexican spitfire stand out and Kugenic P.esserer j^ives a \erv rommendahlc presentation of a grey-haired mining camp hellc.

That high-spirited little comedienne, Dorothy (iish, is mil happy in "Turning the Tahles," (Paramount), a farce constructed ahout the effort of an unscru])ul(ius aunt to put a young woman in a sani- tarium in order to get control of her money. Miss (iish has licr moments, but the comedy itself is lame stuff. So is the direction.

More of Norma Talmadge is revealed in "The Isle of Con<|uest." (Select), than in any vehicle ue have yet glimpsed. For in it Miss Talmadge plays an unhappily married young wife cast ashore in abbreviated masquerade costume U|)ou a desert island with a dash- ing stevedore. Of course, she comes to lo\e him. belicvin.g luiliby dead, and they are about to peiform a marriage cere- mony of their own, that they may become man and wife, when a steamer a]i- pears on the horizon. Friend husband is on board, but he prom])tly dies of heart trouble and things end happily for the .sailor and the widow. Miss Tal- madge is ade(|uate enough, aside from being optically interesting, but "The Isle of Cont|uest'' is just con- ventional screen drama.

"His Majesty, the .\mer- ican," (United Artists), is another routine Douglas Fairbanks celluline cyclone. Doug gymnastics as a young Xew Yorker who gets involved in a middle Europe revolution and turns out to be the heir apparent to the throne.

The star dashes from mantel to balcony and from housetop to window-ledge with his customary dramatic power. In other w-ords, "His Majesty, the American" is just another Fairbanks comedy of the usual sort.

Geraldine Farrar's newest. "Flame of the Desert." ((ioldwyn), does not impress us. Miss Farrar has the role of a British girl in Cairo during a threatened revolution of natives. She loses her heart to an .Arab leader who turns out to be a British officer on secret service. Lou-Tellegen is the Arab-Iinglishman. "Flame of the Desert" is a machine-made vehicle and nothing more. It has all the careful photography aftd direction of (loldwyn produc- tions—and all their lack of heart and imagination.

Dolores Cas.sinelli's "The Right to Lie," (Pathe), is hectic, unreal stuff. Miss Cassinelli is seen as the daughter of an Ameri- can who has innocently been guilty of bigamy. He cannot reveal h.is first marriage, but'does his best to right matters, making the child his ward. Every one suspects a sordid relationship and there are reels of tears and emotionalism.

Constance Talmadge's "A Virtuous Vamp," (First National), is, despite the cheapness of its title, a bit more amusing than Miss Talmadge's recent vehicles. An artless young British society belle, under an assumed nanie. invades the .\merican business world and just cant help vamping every man in sight, thereby upsetting business organization with every flash of her smiling eyes. It is adapted from Ch'de Fitch's "The Bachelor," the whole comedy being ruthlessly shifted from masculine to feminine (Continued on pai/c ^9)

(F..iftyseven)

John Cumber- land, above, in "The Gay Old Dog"; left, Clar- ine Seymour and Richard Barthel- mess in "Scarlet Days"; below, Dorothy Gish in "Turning the Ta- bles"

Filming "Treasure Island

(Fifty-eight)

The Riddle Man

By PEARL MALVERN

WHEN I went to "get" William Russell I went to the Victor Studios somewhere on llth Avenue and I French-heeled shakily over cobblestones and slunk into weird arched door- ways and around somehow sinister corners. There was the rankly humid smell of docks and of salt water against the docks, and I felt that I might be in "Limehouse" rather than on an interview. There was something distinctly "dififerent" about it all.

However, I thought, w^hen I get into the star's dressing-room I shall be in atmosphere again. He will run true to form, some form or other. Perhaps he will be tailored, and correct and, to the eyes, an "objet d'art," and we will discuss his fans and his hobbies and I will kiioiv that I am on an interview.

Which only goes to prove one dare not think in tracks on any man.

I found Bill' Russell to be quite in atmosphere. Oh, quite — in Limehouse and the cobblestones. He was tiotliinq if not in atmosphere. Besides being Gargantuan in build, which is not his fault but quite to his attraction-credit, he was attired in a flannel shirt open at the throat, nondescript and very utilitarian There was a tie bound round about his brow and he talked with great difficulty, having to hold in two recently displaced teeth besides the little matter of enunciating.

The two teeth, one of which fell out upon the floor with quite a thud during the course of the subsequent conversation — I tell you this to kill suspense — I wish mine might have been as briefly killed — the two teeth, I say, had been removed from their moorings during a "scene" taken some fifteen minutes or more, or less, before my tooth- some arrival. Which is a rather conclusive proof that when Bill Russell is before the camera he is not merely posturing. He fights his fights as literally as he would fight them were he in the Klondike or the Northwest, or Limehouse or an> section where gentlemen with giant builds make pleasant havocs of their fellowmcn.

There is none of the obvious about Rill Russell. He gets you guessing. You dont know whether you're going to like him, or whether you're not. You dont know whether he's .going to let you like him. He doesn't gush. He doesn't pose He doesn't attitudiiiizc. There is none of the

mummer. He has the air of reflecting quite

outside of your being there at all. He talks ^"^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ quietly and it takes hnn some time to warm up to his subject. He weighs things. He does not

speak lightly or glibly. Just in the beginning you begin to despair of him as "copy." You dont (|uite know whnt to make of it, of him. You fidget and begin to believe that you had better go. Then yon find that he is saying things here and there that are immensely worth while. He is saying them in a manner of spe:iking as tho he were alone and musing aloud. You realize with some- thing of a shock that he had no formula ready to spring on you. He is just talking — is just himself. He may and may not have said these same things before. If he has. he doesn't know it. It is the thing ]ie is thinking of at the moment. Yon have tho impression of something deep and primitive of .some miglity force leashed up. of something barely stark and ele- mental. It conies to you that the confines of llie drc>siiig-room are far too small. There is a need of space and then more space.

He talks with a few wide gestures, with every so often a piercing look from his eyes which are decp-.set and grey. He talks sparsely, but one g-pts big canvases of thought . . . impressions . . .

He is tired of stage life, he says. He wants to travel the great world over. Roam the seas and blaze strange trails and climb peaks that ravage the skies. Tie wants a gootl comr.-ide by his side— a woman "That would be more than half the joy of it." he said. (Coiithutcd nn pat/c 74)

( Fiftif-iutte)

"Men want good women," says William Russell, in discussing marriage, "wholesome women — strong, sanely balanced women. Women who are, primarily, good comrades'*

An Earle and His Domain

At the left is a glimpse of Mr. and Mrs. Earle Williams with the Wil- liams bungalow background

(Sixty)

THE RIGHT WAY TO KEEP YOUR NAILS

ALWAYS PERFECTLY MANICURED

Just a little regular care makes your' hands beautiful

NAILS like rosy pearl inlaid in a del- icate setting — a setting of smooth unbroken cuticle, a perfect curve which repeats the curve of the nail tips.

It is easy for anyone nowadays to have this alluring grace of perfect, nails and cuticle — so easy that people no longer excuse the lack of it.

The sensitive nail root is only one-twelfth inch below the cn- ticte. When yon look through a magnifying glass yon sec the unpleasant results of cuticle cut- ting.

Today ill kept nails are as unpardonable as ill kept teeth. For it takes but a few minutes of regular care each week to keep your finger nails always perfect, your cuticle smooth, thin, unbroken.

Make some day of the week your regu- lar day for manicuring. Then regularly on this day give your nails the care they need.

Do not forget that the most important item in the appearance of one's nails is the care of the -cuticle. Broken cuticle is like a broken setting to a jewel. Coarse overgrown cuticle is equally unsuitable.

Yet many people ruin the cuticle through ignorance of the proper method of car- ing for it. Nn'er cut it. This is ruinous. The nail root is only 1/12 of an inch below the cuticle. When the cuticle is cut, it is next to impossible to avoid ex- posing the nail root at the corners or in some other little place. The root of the nail is so sensitive that Nature will not permit it to remain uncovered. The moment a tiny bit is exposed, new skin grows very quickly in that place to cover it. It grows much more rapidly than the rest of the cuticle. This spoils the sym- metry of the curve at the base of the nails. It causes uneven cuticle and hang nails. It gives a coarse ragged appear ance to the border of your nails.

Realizing this, an expert set himself to the task of discovering a safe, effective way to remove overgrown cuticle. After years of study he worked out the for- mula of a liquid, which gently, harmlessly softens and removes the surplus cuticle. This he called Cutex.

Wrap a little cotton around the end of an orange stick (both come in the Cutex package), dip it into the bottle of Cutex and work it around the base of the nails, gently pushing back the cuticle. Instant- ly the dry cuticle is softened. Wash the hands, pushing back the cuticle with a towel. The surplus cuticle will disap- pear, leaving a firm, even, slender nail base.

If you like snowy white nail tips apply a little Cutex Nail White underneath the nails directly from its convenient tube. Finish your manicure with Cutex Nail Polish. For an especially brilliant last-

ing polish, use Cutex Paste Polish first, then the Cutex Cake or Powder Polish.

If your cuticle has a tendency to dry and grow coarse, apply a bit of Cutex Cold Cream each night. This cream was es- pecially prepared to keep the hands and cuticle soft and fine.

It takes only about fifteen minutes a week to give your nails this complete manicure. Do this regularly and your hands will always have that peculiar at- tractiveness which adds a subtle appeal to one's whole appearance.

To keep yot.r cuticle a perfect jrame for your nails, you must use the right softening method.

A complete manicure set for only 20 cents

Mail this coupon (below) with 20 cents and we will send you a complete Midget Manicure Set, which contains enough of each of the Cutex products to give you at least six mani- cures. Send for it today. Address Northam Warren. Dept. 901, 114 West 17th St., New York City.

// yo'i live in Canniia, address Northam U'ar- rrn, Def'l. got, 3<vi Mountain Street, Montreal.

M.\IL THIS COUPON WITH TWO DIMES TQD.'VY.

NORTHAM WARREN Dept. 901, 114 West 17th St., New York City.

Name

Street

Ci(y

Stale

(Sixty-one)

^aiaBBBS£Wgi'<sag^!S3S^r'aife ■

A

Sennett Salome

(Sixty-two)

What Does Your Mirror Reflect?

Are ijou proud and satiS" fled because it reflects a skin that ishealthi), glov- ing and altogether charm- ing?

Or are qou discouraged because (jou haue tried so roani] recommended treatments and still tjour skin loolcs muddq. oilq and colorless ?

Qiue Resiaol Soap a trial

Its soothinq. refreshing lather, searches euerij pore, and helps to cleanse them from the impurities ujhich haue lodged there, qiuinq the skin a chance to breathe.

SOLD BY ALL DRUGGISTS AND DEALERS IN TOILET GOODS

Resinol Shaving Stidt delighlJuUy ioolhing to men with tender /aces.

Alia in India

St

Mme. Neizimjova in her forthcoming Anglo-India drama, " Strong er Than Death," released by Metro. "Stronger Than Death" has its basis in I. A. R. Wylie's novel, "The Hermit Doctor of Gaya"

PnoiosTiphi courtcijr Metro Coiporation.

(li'util four)

Myrtle Stedman In "The

Silver Horde '

As star in the screen presentation of Rex Beach's world-famous story of the great north, "The Silver Horde". Miss Stedman has enhanced her popularity. Note the "twelve pound look" Myrtle's beautiful back is receiving.

Goldwyn Picture

May I speak a good word in behalf of Ingram's Milkweed Cream? It "plays opposite me" daily— on my dressing table, and I'm sure I do not know what I would do with- out its aid.

Ingrtim's

Milkweed

Cfearil

You may have noticed how we emphasize the therapeutic property of Ingram's Milkweed Cream. As we have said before, it is exclusive to Ingram's Milkweed Cream.

We lay stress upon this therapeutic quality because it does actually "tone up" the skin tissues and keep them in healthful condition. Ingram's Milkweed Cream is a wonderfully softening and cleansing emollient with this specific therapeutic quality that is so wonder- fully helpful to the skin.

Buy it in either 50c or $1.00 Size

Ingratn*s

^veola ^Souveratne

FACE POWDER

Acomplexion powder especially distinguish- ed by the fact that it stays on. Furthermore Q powder of unexcelled delicacy of texture and refinement of perfume. Four tints- White. Pink. Flesh and Brunette-50c.

ItigfawLS fRouge

"Just to show a proper glow" use a touch of Ingram's Rouge on the cheeks. A safe preparation for delicately heightening the natural color. The coloring matter is not absorbed by the skin. Delicately perfumed. Solid cake. Three shades— Light. Medium and Dark-50c

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Foreign Distributor*

Africa, South, C. A. Boiua

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Melbourne Stnn.lar.l Bldns.. Nairobi

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Trmidad: L.C. Wharton San Fernando

China: Mustard & Co. ShnnKhai

Coupon *^*2*

(Look for proper address at left!

I enclose 6 two cent stamps in return for which send me your Guest Room Package containing Ingram's Milkweed Cream, Rouge, Face Powder. Zodenta Tooth Pow- der and Ingram's Perfume in Guest Room

(Sixty-five)

Fishing Tackle

and

Lip Sticks

Herewith the Al Christie comedy girls-r-unfortunately nameless — demonstrate the relative value of a fishing pole and that first aid to femininity, the lip stick. Personally, we pin our faith to the last named article

fV >'i<^A- -■■■ >*

(Sixty six)

"The Proudest Moment of

Our Lives Had Come!"

"We sat before the fire place, Mary and I, with Betty perched on the arm of the big chair. It was our first evening in our own home! There were two glistening tears in Mary's eyes, yet a smile was on her lips. I knew what she was thinking.

"Five years before we had started bravely out together! The first month had taught us the old, old lesson that two cannot live as cheaply as one. I had left school in the grades to go to work and my all too thin pay envelope was a weekly reminder of my lack of training. In a year Betty came — three mouths to feed now. Meanwhile living costs were soaring. Only my salary and I were standing still.

"Then one night Mary came to me. 'Jim', she said, 'why don't you go to school again — right here at home? You can put in an hour or two after supper each night while. I sew, Learn to do some one thing. You'll make good — I know you will.'

"Well, we talked it over and that very night I wrote to Scranton. A few days later I had taken up a course in the work I was in. It was surprising how rapidly the mysteries of our business became clear to me — took on a

new fascination. In a little while an openmy came. I was ready for it and was promoted — with an increase. Then I was advanced again. There was money enough to even lay a little aside. So it went.

*'And now the fondest dream of all has come true. We have a real home of our own with the little comforts and luxuries Mary had always longed for, a little place, as she says, that 'Betty can be proud to grow up in.'

"I look back now in pity at those first blind stumbling years. Each evening after supper the doors of opportunity had swung wide and I had passed them by. How grateful 1 am that Mary helped me to see that night the golden hours that lay within."

In city, town and country all over America there are men with happy fami- lies and prosperous homes because they let the International Correspondence Schools come to them in the hours after supper and prepare them for bigger work at better pay. More than two million men and women in the last 28 years have advanced themselves through spare time study with the I. C. S. Over one hundred thousand right now are turning their evenings to profit. Hundreds are starting every day.

You, too, can have the position you want in the work you like best. You Can have a salary that will give your family the kind of a home, the comforts, the little luxuries that you would like them to have. Yes, you can ! No matter what your age, your occupation, or your means — you can do it!

All we ask is the chance to prove it. That's fair, isn't it? Then mark and mail this coupon. Thare't no obligation and not a penny of cost. But it may be the most important step you ever took in your life. Cutout and mail the coupon motv.

n

INTERNATIONAL CoVrESPONDENCE SCHOOLS

BOX 6769, SCRANTON. PA.

. lout obhgatlns me, how I can ■

tlon, or In the subject, b^ore which Imark i ~ KI,E<lTKICiL E>GINBKR ~

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Electric wTrinK

rclegraph EnKlnecr

TelBphoQC Work

I1F.(:|IA.MC1I, VNSINESB

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Machine Shop Prictlc*

Toolmaker

Gaa Engtnr Operating

(MVII, KNfllNEKK

Surveylnit and Mapping

UINK KOIlKHiN OU ENeiMIRR

SriTIOKtllT ENeiNSBR

Marine Eniilnacr

Ship Draftaroan

ARCHHECT _ Coniracior and Builder ^^ Archlieciural Dratumta

Concrete Builder nStructural Engineer '^PLl'HIItNG ANII IIBlTmO

Sheet Meial Worker _ Texille Overeetr or SupC n CHEMIST

Navlffatloo

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^ADVERTISING 1 Window Trlmmtf _ Show Card Wriisr ^ Sign Palnier

Railroad Tralnmao

ILLUSTRATING

Cartooning

BrNI-NEfiS HiKiGKMIIT

Private Secrelary

BOOKKEEPER

Stenographer and Typlat

Cert, Public Accounlanc

TRAFFIC MANAGER

Railway Accoununt

Commercial Law

GOOD ENGLISH

Teacher _ Common School Sublacto . Mathemallca

"civil service

Railway Mall Clark UiTOHOItll.R Oi-rRlTINO

alDt« Rapatrlnt I ifllllLCML'K Pealtrr iUUIa

'11 Eir^ iif r.ni i in**

ttrlnR I^Spaal* TL'KK in Vr»n*t «UlDg |~ lullaa

Preient

Occupation-

(Sixty-seven)

/Mi

Get Drop on that

Cou^

TXnNTER— draft —

'cold. Take care

— prepare! To ward off

th« alTicI of wcl fiet and ex- posure, use Dean's Mentho- lated Cough Drops — indoors or oot. Oet thsm uiTwbere.

D«an Medidne Compuijr MOwaokM, WIac«asiB

Mentholated

h, bnllta lilUr. Okiliic*

la, ■ii<<ili, C«Ml, Taaar Isijt « laajs

'Mb. H...a. 0M». OnM. TB. BMTrWilinS^

u«untemi(rnne,iai. Ssi.n enciM,

Bowlegged Men

Your legs will appear straight when you wear

Straightleg Garters

RanvkAbl* tnTmUoD— CombintUon haa»- ■ipporur tnd p • D t-1 • f Bt/alfhUDti^ QHUly i4JuB(*e to lit rtrltui i*%nm ■< a**l«l»: u fuy to put on uid ccmfoct- ebl* to wp»r u u\y ordjnuy f*n*r— ■♦ hv«M4 er »Etf4*d r»n««; Juit tn InimJout vvdti ft/l«r fop bowltertd mrti— ImprwT,* \XK>»*tUit» wond'rfullj. Bowlmtx) mm

MOTION PIC'IURK

If I Were King (Conlinued from page 33)

••li>

la ilila

tattle aa-

S-L GARTER CO. 7H Tnaet C«. BUs.. DAYTON, OHIO

hood, and where there had been a hundred coxcombs, stood now a hundred soldiers eager to tight for lionor and country and king. Kathcrinc Vaucellcs came swiftly up the steps of the dais and flung herself on her knees before Villon, taking a rib- band from her hair, still warm.

"You will wear my colors, my lord Constable?" she asked with a wonder- ful blush, "and until you come back I shall pray for you !"

Louis looked down at her, smiling evilly, then turned to Villon, ".\fter such a con- quest methinks Burgundy should be easy