MARGOT AND THE MOVIES.

Otago Witness, Issue 3889, 25 September 1928, Page 81

MARGOT AND THE MOVIES.

By

Mrs A. Al. Williamson.

(Copyright.—For the Otago Witness.) “ The saints save us, what a figger for Hollywood! ” gasped Mary. No sooner had it been decided that she and her adored, the adorable Margot, were to adventure out to Hollywood than Mary happened to glimpse herself in that threefold “Psyche” mirior! The picture she got was frontface and two profiles. “ Psyche ” mirror indeed. At all events the psychic effect upon Mary Alacnamara stopped her short in full transit. And this was something for a mere .mirror to do because when Mary started to go anywhere, if it were but from one room to another, she was like a galleon in full sail with a heavy following *>ea.

“ Sure, it’s 55 years I’ve lived, and niver till to-day have I seed meself from head to foot in three parts, each part stickin’ out in all the wrong places! It’s a sigljt to turn a body like me into a pillar o’ salt.” Margot laughed her soft, sweet laugh. (What a pity such laughter can’t register on the screen!) “You old darling, don’t worry about yourself. You’re just grand!” the girl said. “In Hollywood or Timbuctoo I wouldn’t have one inch less of you. You're going to be my watchdog out there: a splendid, big St. Bernard. We’ll make a wonderful pair together. Nobody could help noticing us. I mean soon to be a millionairess, and what’s mine is yours.” She stood beside Mary, and, if you used the St. Bernard simile for the old Irishwoman, Margot Maryland (Maryland wasn’t her real name: she’d exchanged Jennings for the name of her native state in compliment to. supposed Hollywood taste) might have been compared to a small, delicate Italian greyhound. Not that she was like a greyhound. She was exactly like what she was, an almost perfectly beautiful, goldenhaired, creamy-skinned, sapphire-eyed, slender girl of 18. She hail faultless features; a figure like other 18-year-old female figures; a sweet disposition; any amount of unconscious conceit, and no facial expression whatever. But then Mary wasn’t really like a St. Bernard. She had a round, reddish face, with a humorous nose and a big mouth. Her forehead was high, and such weedy grey hair as adorned her head she wore as hair had been worn 35 years ago when she had been about Margot’s age. But she had all the noble dignity of a St. Bernard, even if her body “ did stick out in the wrong places ” and her toosmall feet propel her rapidly here and there as if she were a monstrous mechanical toy. This dignity she had brought with her from Ireland in her ’twenties, and it was the direct result of youthful service in the very great family in whose ancient castle her mother, and generations before that mother, had served in one capacity or other.

Some had been cooks, in a kitchen like a cathedral; some had been lady’s maids; some humbler creatures had made up magnificent carved beds or helped keep in order thick embroidered linen-like sheets of beaten silver. But upon all had been the influence of the house, and that of noble ladies who deserve the name of gentlewomen. The servants of that great house had been, in their unassuming way, part of the family. One and all, male and female, they would have died rather than take the least liberty; yet the honour of the family was their honour; and the dignity of the family had become their dignity. Big clumsy Mary, who had followed a sweetheart to America nearly 30 years ago, only to nurse him on his deathbed, was at heart, and, in her simple way, a very great lady without knowing it. She seldom, in fret, thought of herself at all. Strange fortunes and misfortunes had been hers in the United States, drifting from place to place till in the south she had become nurse to the five-year-old Margot Jennings, a child-beauty. Margot was fatherless, motherless, alone in the world save for Mary and hosts of powerless, though admiring friends, left behind in a sweet old Maryland town. A dilapidated Georgian house had been sold at a poor price, various family debts paid, and here were Margot- and Mary in a gorgeous Chicago hotel (far too expensive for Margot’s tiny capital) actually en route for Hollywood.

Everybody at home had advised Margot to go to Hollywood—everybody with one sole exception, and he the very person from whom Margot yearned for encouragement. He had been what she, bursting into tears during a last scene, had called “ Cruel—and horrible! ” and a few other cutting adjectives. He had said, “Look here, baby girl,” (that does not sound exactly cruel, does it?) “you’re the top peach in the peach basket in this burg, and you’re Frederickville’s cutest cutie. But; you know, I’ve been out to Hollywood myself” (he was what they call a “real estate” agent), “and all the rest of the peaches and cuties from the whole world are there already. Some of the prettiest don’t take a good ‘ test ’, and that’s the end of them where the pictures are concerned. Yes, I know, your photos are lovely, and I nearly say my prayers at night to the one you gave me. But for some mysterious reason, that’s different! You may have to find out the difference if you go to Hollywood. And why go?—perhaps to break your heart? I’ll keep your heart in pink cotton if you’ll give it to me. And it isn’t as if you’d have to live your whole life in Frederickville. I’m doing pretty well. It may be Baltimore next year. And Baltimore leads to Washington or New York. I’ll give you as much love as you’d get out of all the film fans on earth, even if you developed into a Mary Pickford. The chances are you wouldn’t. And you take no chances at all with me. Now, honev, do you get that?”

Honey got it, but didn’t take it well. She thought that he had no faith in her, that he didn’t consider her half as pretty as Marion Davies, and didn’t believe she had as much “It” as Clara Bow. So Jack Curtiss was told that she wouldn’t marry him if he were the last man alive. And, anyhow, it was a career she wanted, not a husband, if it were the Prince of Wales himself. Margot’s notion was that, if you wished to succeed, you must wear beautiful dresses and a haughty 7 air, and stay at the best hotels, so that people might

feel like the dust under your feet, and ask enviously, “Who is she?” Therefore, it was at the Blackstone where Mary Alacnamara beheld for the first time all her own rotundities at once in a Psyche mirror. It seemed reckless to her to spend so much money when there wasn’t much to spend. But she had as much faith in Margot as Margot had in herself. She pictured her darling’s arrival in Hollywood, the whole town in excitement over the new beauty 7 , great producers and directors driving up to Miss Maryland’s hotel in their Rolls-Royces, and vicing with each other to engage her for the star of the next film. Mary 7 had been to many movies on purpose to judge calmly the rivals of Margot who had already, for one reason or other, achieved popularity 7. “ Sure they’re muffin faces compared to you! ” she assured her idol. So they set out for Hollywood, travelling in great style and expense in a drawing room on board the new Santa Fe Chief, which is the last word in trains, and every time a head turned at sight of Miss Maryland going to the restaurant car, Mary murmured, “ Glory be! May the saints take care of her! They’ll eat her up out there! ” Exactly who “ they ” could, be. Mary couldn’t quite picture in her glowing mind. But because she did so sincerely believe her golden-haired nursling lovely enough to wipe Helen of Troy off the map, the old Irish woman was vaguely surprised and hurt when the Chief slowed down at the picturesque station in Los Angeles and no enterprising screen magnates rushed forward, bowing, to secure the services of Miss Margot Maryland. How such person could possibly have known in advance that the one perfect girl was due to arrive in Movieland Mary would have been powerless to explain, yet she felt that men of business enterprise ought to know instinctively, telepathically 7 , things which concerned their own interests.

Other golden-haired visions were met, and not only blondes but brunettes were welcomed by 7 friends who looked, somehow, as if they 7 might be high up in the film world. None, in Mary’s opinion, could hold even a half-burned candle to Margot; yet these people seemed so delighted at the fair travellers’ return that they’d brought newspaper and camera men to interview and snapshot them.

“ Well, well, well! Just wait till the blessed lamb gets her foot in! ” That was all Mary Macnamara asked. The said foot, with its mate and all the rest of Miss Maryland’s pretty, slim body, accompanied by large lady’s maid and" considerable luggage, descended at the newest, costliest hotel in sunshiny Hollywood. After that —well, after that, Margot didn’t quite know what the next step ought to be; though she did know that it needed to be taken soon, for money was sinking rapidly into the quicksand of “ keeping up appearances.” Jack Curtiss had begged that, if she were determined to go to Hollywood “on spec,” Margot 'would do it “on the cheap.” There were nice rooms to be had, where Mary could cook; and there was a Girls’ Club — But Miss Maryland had refused to hear him out. “I’m not such a coward!” she’d snapped. “ I believe in myself, though you don’t. If I played poor I’d never get anywhere in a place where even girls of 18 are millionaires. Everybody except you advises me that way.” But Jack had seen Hollywood. Margot hadn’t —then. Now she saw it, and it didn’t seem to see her at all. Of course when she went out charmingly dresseci people looked at her in the street, but she had had no conception of the galaxy of beauty collected in Hollywood. In Frederickville Margot Jennings had been the prettiest girl. In Hollywood you might go out of your wits trying to choose the prettiest. Margot loved old Alary, loved her dearly; but when Mary ambled and pounced ’ eside her it was at Mary people stared; and Margot didn’t think that it could possibly be a complimentary stare. She made excuses to walk alone, though Mary hardly felt that her darling would be safe unchaperoned in such a lively place. When, however, after some days’ waiting Miss Maryland was visited by m reporters, no producers, and mightn't have existed so far as Hollywood eared, the girl decided to show herself at studios. There Mary would now allow her lamb to venture alone. Margot hired an automobile by the week, and, accompanied by her duenna, drove from one famous studio to another. “ Begin at the top,” was her motto, so she asked for Air Lasky at the Paramount, Air Cecil de Alille at the de Alille studio, and so on. With a boiled-fish stare a young man or woman at a window opening upon a stately hall would inquire, .“ Have you an appointment?” Learning that the ignorant young person had had the incredible cheek to present herself with only a visiting card withering ultimatums were given. “You might go to the casting director,” she was told by those who were

kindest. But even there doors didn’t fly open to unknown, well-gcwned beauty. “ Leave your name and address,” was the lovely Aliss Maryland’s sole encouragement ; or “ Come again next Alonday. There’ll be a crowd wanted for a ballroom scene.”

Alar got did go next Alonday to find that she had arrived too late. Those needed had been selected. She saw about a hundred beautiful girls being turned away. What a place! What a heartbreaking place! Alargot was thankful that Jack didn’t know what - was happening to her—or rather what was not happening.

He wouldn’t say, “I told you so! ” — no, not even with his eyes. But she just couldn’t bear to be pitied by Jack Curtiss of all people. Now and then she did get into the presence of a casting director, though this, it appeared, was not much of an achievement, as casting directors seldom, if ever, engaged the principals. At last Miss Alaryland seemed to find favour in the eyes of such a man, though hardly had he agreed to give her a chance, when old Alary’s fantastic personality so fascinated him that he ceased to concentrate on the girl’s beauty. Alargot, annoyed, resolved never again to bring Alary along. ■ “ A'on might do, Aliss—er—er—for a bit in this picture we’ll begin to shoot next week,” Air Lewison said. “ Hm, yes! It’s just a flash in a drug store; blonde girl at a soda fountain. But you’d get a close-r.p. Look here, I’ll have a test taken of you to-day—l.3o; after lunch —see? You and your mother —what, not mother—maid?—all right, maid; can eat in the cafetaria.” This was the Cosmic Studio, and eating in the cafetaria there was a thrill. Even some of the stars chose to eat in this cafetaria instead of in their beautiful bungalow dressing rooms; what with these and dozens of marvellous beings, male and female, playing lesser parts, also swarms of “ extras ” looking like princes and princesses, it was a scene of immense interest.

Several dreamlike young men looked at Alargot; but even here in the cafeteria eyes travelled to Alary—that galleon with a noble, utterly un-self-conscious face at its prow! After luncheon the promised test was taken by a somewhat indifferent though not unkindly cameraman. Alargot was instructed to portray various emotions, such as she was sure she would never be called upon to feel, to suffer, to agonise, to spurn, to walk into a room; to run, to sink into a sofa, to recline gracefully, and such foolish things as that. Her face felt frozen, and her hands and feet were troublesome, as if they were not hers but belonged to a marionette. Still, she consoled herself, and was consoled by Alary. She couldn't help looking beautiful, even if she had been a little seared. Into some of the impromptu scenes Mary had intruded by awkwardness or accident; but the camera man didn’t seem to mind. He was quite good-natured, and said it didn’t matter a tinker’s damn.

The test was to be ready on the third day, but it wasn’t. And meanwhile, not only had much water run past the mill for Margot, but a lot of stuffing had come out of her doll; sawdust stuffing it was, and the whole- world was filled with it —the world of the movies. Alargot received a letter from her bank, informing Aliss Jennings—not Miss Alaryland—that she had overdrawn her balance. And, with Alary’s slightly tearful help, this turned out to mean that she’d come to the end of her money. What to do? There was enough ready cash (part of the overdrawn balance) to pay the hotel and automobile account for the current week. After that—the deluge! Unless Air Lewison was so pleased with the test that he offered an immediate engagement. A small part would lead to a big one, as Mary pointed out, and just at this crisis a message was phoned from the studio. The test was finished. But —no, there must be some mistake! It sounded as if the rough voice said, “ Alost of -it no good. You-can run out to the studio if yon want to, but anyhow, send —er —what’s her name now?—Airs Macnamara. She’d better come along at once.” Alary wasn’t Airs, but Aliss. However, that was a detail.-

It seemed unbelievable that Alary should be wanted. Neither she nor Alargot (who was crying) could understand why she had been called. However, §he must go and find out what was wrong with the test, especially as poor Alargot had wept herself into a condition approaching plainness. No more automobiles for Aliss Alaryland et Cie! Alary was the “ Cie,” and she arrived at the Cosmic Studio on foot, after a longish “ trolley ” ride. To her surprise, Air Lewison and his secretary were not alone in the office which had become familiar. Another man was there, a handsome, middle-aged man, with a head of sculptured silver hair and brilliant dark eyes which ran over Alary’s features and form like a flash of lightning. “ Airs Alacnamara—or Aliss ? ” began a pleasant voice; and what followed was so astounding that Alary thought she must be going mad. This was tlie director of the film for a small scene in which Margot had been tested. His name was Francis Nildo, and it was a famous one, though Alary had never heard it. The title of the picture was “ Juliet of Jonesville.” Air Nildo talked to Alary in a polite and soothing voice. He and Air Lewison' were—ah—sorry that her daughter—well, her young mistress, then—had made a poor test. Often it was so with the prettiest girls. Aliss Alaryland would never make a screen star; never, at best, get beyond small parts. No use hoping for a career. (He hurried past all'this as if he couldn’t' really bring himself .to care, and was hastening onto something else.) “But, Mrs Alacnamara,” he began in a changed tone. “How would you like to go into pictures?” “Saints alive! ” gasped Mary. “It’S fun you’re makin’ of me.” “ Not at all,” Air Nildo assured her. “You happen to be a type that might have been born for this film; the nurse of our modern, up-to-date ‘ Juliet,* if yon know what I mean. You came into Miss—er —Maryland’s test, and not by

accident. Air Lewison spotted the value of your type, but didn’t want to make you satf-coiiscious. He need liaraly have been airaid oi that, as we see now. You have do self-consciousness whatever before the camera. You might be an experienced screen actress so far as your * tempo ’ and movements, your sense of repose and reserve in expression are concerned. lam ready to stake my reputation on your success in the part of*Tsurse Bariing, with my direction to see you througn. And 1 have authority to oli'er you luudol a week. We shall be at least 10 weeks making the film. That means lOOOdol. And if you show up as I think you will this studio will probably wish to make a contract with you for several years at a rising salary. A place can always be found lor type—a grand and unique type, if you’ll excuse personal remarks —such as yours, Mrs Macnamara.”

The cry came to Alary’s lips “ Not for one thousand a week, or a million a week, sir, would 1 steal away what my colleen wants and can’t get, and me an ould woman that knows no more how to act than a scarecrow.” But she bit back the words just in time. What had she been thinking of to throw away good money when they two were at the end of their tether, with nowhere to turn, unless to Air Jack Curtiss! And that Afiss Alargot would see herself dead sooner than do! A beautiful wistfulness and meekness softened the worn face and made it so wonderful for a moment that Francis Nildo wanted to shout ‘‘Hold that! Camera! ” Heavens, what a close-up lost for ever! “ Sir, if you’re in earnest, and not pokin’ fun at me,” Alary said, “ I shall be thankfu* for anny work ye have to give, even if it’s to set the world lalfin’ at me for an ould spalpeen. But” (she blazed with the brilliance of a great idea) “ I can only try it if ye’ll grant Afiss Alargot the ‘ bit ’ at the soda fountain she was countin’ on. I should drop in me tracks if she was to be disappointed.” “We thought you might feel that way," Air N lido answered. “ Well, to please you she shall have the bit. And if she’s really set on screen acting I daresay we can work her in here and there in such pictures as you’re playing in.” “ Bless you for that,” Alary said. “But what I’d like best would be for her to get the hundred a week, and with all my heart I’d work fur ye for nothin’.”

“ I’m afraid that won’t do, for Aliss Alaryland’s scenes in ‘ Juliet ’ will be shot inside th® first three days,” Francis Nildo exclaimed. “ When you get your pay envelope you can hand it over ;o her, and I expect she’ll be sensible enough to make the best of things as they are.” So it was settled, and Alary staggered home with the astounding news. They make a great night of it in Hollywood when a big new film is ” release 1 ” and shown at a local theatre for the first time. All the stars and the stars’ husbands and wives, all the producers and directors and their wives, roll up to the door in their Rolls-Royces. Alagnesium lights flare, and cameras click. Policemen keep the crowds back, and soon it is known who has made the big hit. _ “ That old Irish thing with a face like an aged angel, the figure of a tank, and the walk like a cross between a kangaroo and a battering-ram has stolen the picture,” was the verdict that went forth about “ Juliet of Jonesville.” The popular girl with a salary of three thousand a week, who played “Juliet” didn’t count. Romeo might as well have been an extra. The picture was Alary’s. She played her part as she had for a lifetime played the part of a devoted servant, hardly aware that she existed; and all Hollywood was talking about her. It was well for the Cosmic people that she had signed a contract, for within the next 24 hours she had received offers from most of the studios. It wasn’t Alargot, but “ Alary and the Alovies.”

Jack Curtiss, in New York on business, saw “ Juliet of Jonesville ” at the Cosmic Theatre. There was poor little Alargot in all her beauty, flashed on for a moment at a soda fountain. There was Alary brooding over the whole cast, as a mother-hen broods over her chickens. Jack hadn’t heard one word from Hollywood, but after seeing that picture and hearing the applause and shouts of laughter which belonged to Alary he needed no letter of explanation. “ Poor baby! ” he said, and took the Santa Fe Limited out to California next day. < '