Silent Film Quarterly Issue 2 by Silent Film Quarterly

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The Silent Film Quarterly ——————————————————————————

Volume I, Issue 2 Winter 2015-16

Table of Contents Editor’s Message

Departments: In Their Own Words

Mae Tinee Selects the 12 Best Pictures of 1928, “How It Feels to Be a Comedian” by John Bunny, “The Six Next Sellers” by Adela Rogers St. Johns, “How I Earned My First Money” by Tom Mix, “Read this Before Voting,” “Movie Statistics” by Buster Keaton, “Glad I Cut My Hair” by Betty Compson

Silents In Review

Blue Blazes Rawden (1918), Pollyanna (1920), Short Kilts (1924), Over the Fence (1917), Late to Lunch (1987)

Celluloid Collectibles

Charles Epting

Canco Beautebox Tins

Silent Star in Brief Harold Lockwood

Original Features: The Charlie Chaplin Archives:

A Preview of Taschen’s Newest Publication

How Did They Do That?:

Debra Ann Pawlak

Charles Epting

Insights Into the Birth of Technicolor

The Man Who Plays:

A Conversation with Silent Film Pianist Cliff Retallick

Hollywood’s Silent Echoes A Tour of 1920s Film Locations

John Bengtson

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Sally Phipps at Essanay

Robert L. Harned

Joseph McAleer

A Silent Star Begins Her Career

My Life—East and West

A Review of William S. Hart’s Autobiography

Classic Feature: My Beauty Recipe:

Various actresses

Style Tips from a Dozen Silent Legends

Interviews: Hollywood Celebrates the Holidays: Karie Bible & Mary Mallory

Two Authors Discuss Their Latest Project

Film’s 1st King of Comedy:

Tony Susnick

A Forthcoming Documentary on John Bunny

A Modern-Day Mack Sennett:

Keith Picot

An Actor/Director Emulates 1910s Slapstick

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Editor’s Message

Silent Film Quarterly has made it to its second issue! And not only that—this one is four pages longer than the first. That may not seem like a lot, but I look at every opportunity to bring more content to the readers as a small victory. Feedback about the first issue has been absolutely amazing so far. Subscriptions have continued to come in from all corners of the globe, with the first issue finding its way to New Zealand, Japan, Germany, and the UK. Production numbers are much higher than anticipated, which for me is a very promising sign that silent films are alive and well. Little did I expect to have this kind of response from such a niche magazine. Already some very exciting things are lining up for Issue 3, including new articles and interviews that I’m thrilled to share with the world. A lot of people have their own unique spin to put on the silent era, and I’m thankful that Silent Film Quarterly is providing an outlet for these voices to be heard. If you have an article you’d like to pitch, please get in touch, as I’m always looking to feature new and engaging content. Some exciting partnerships are in the works for the magazine. First and foremost, Flicker Alley recently shared Annette Lloyd’s article from Issue 1 both on their website and in their newsletter, leading to wide exposure for the magazine. More projects are planned for the near future, including a behind-the-scenes look at the company. Stay tuned as this and other partnerships are announced in the coming issues! You’ll notice that this issue features much more original content than reprinted material from the 1910s and 1920s—but that doesn’t mean it’ll always be like this! With such a wide range of material to cover in dealing with silent films the content of the magazine will always be variable. On the cover are two lesser-known silent stars, but I thought the picture had a timeless quality that would lend itself perfectly to a magazine cover. Richard Arlen has been a favorite of mine for some time, with brilliant performances in Beggars of Life and Feel My Pulse (in addition to his role in the famed Wings). Esther Ralston was one of the most beautiful women of the silent era, but never matched the fame of fellow Paramount stars Bebe Daniels and Clara Bow. Figures Don’t Lie, the Eddie Sutherland-direct film from which the cover image is taken, unfortunately appears to be lost. In closing, thank you again for your support and patronage of Silent Film Quarterly. I never could have anticipated such a positive response, and I do hope that this issue lives up to the standard set by the first. Your editor, Charles Epting

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Write for Silent Film Quarterly!

Want to write for Silent Film Quarterly? The magazine is always looking for interesting original content about the silent era, including feature articles and reviews of silent films. Please contact the editor at charleseptingauthor@gmail.com if interested or for more information.

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In Their Own Words Primary sources from the silent era ・・・

Mae Tinee Selects the 12 Best Pictures of 1928

From Chicago Daily Tribune, December 30, 1928 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12.

The Gaucho The Last Command Simba: King of the Beasts Sorrell and Son Speedy Sadie Thompson Dawn Street Angel Mother Knows Best The Patriot The Man Who Laughs The Home Towners ・・・

How It Feels to Be a Comedian By John Bunny From Louisville Courier-Journal, December 13, 1914

How does it feel to be a comedian? You know how it feels. At least, you have known. There isn’t a human being alive who isn’t a comedian at heart, who wouldn’t get a laugh from his friends, or his wife, or his mother-in-law every day if he could. And if there is a human being alive who has never experienced the tingling satisfaction of the surging triumph of getting that laugh he is a creature too miserable to contemplate. Laughter is the solution of life; laughter is life; laughter daily makes it possible to go on. There is only one delight that is keener than that of a joke, a comment, or a gesture at which you spontaneously laugh and that is the delight of making other people, a whole crowd of people, laugh with you. Making other people laugh is the greatest game in the world—and we are all playing it. Some of us are professionals; most of us are

amateurs; that is all. We all like tears, I suppose, or we would not shed them so easily. But what is the good of tears, unless it is to increase our delight in laughter? If the tragic spirit is always hovering over us, always the comic spirit is just around the corner. For the comic spirit, which is the spirit of laughter, is a rough and ready and everyday sort. It is above us or beneath us—it is of us. Laughter is wind; sadness is a cloud. The wind of laughter—and nothing else—may dispel the cloud of sadness. What better job in life could a man hope for than to be a wind of laughter? None. Unless to be a gale, a gale of laughter blowing round the world! I said that we were all comedians at heart and that the only difference is that some of us are professionals while most of us are amateurs. The professional has one advantage over the amateur and one disadvantage. The professional gets more laughs in a day than the amateur—he wouldn't be long a professional otherwise— not for long. But the professional has to get more laughs than the amateur. The amateur can spend a whole evening getting one laugh out of his mother-in-law and go to sleep with a smile of self-gratulation on his lips because he did get it. Imagine the predicament of a professional who got one laugh from one mother-in-law in an evening! No. One laugh in an evening is not enough for the professional comedian. He must get one laugh a minute, at the least, and not on one evening but on many. He cannot take an evening off in respect to his private troubles. He cannot indulge himself because he has a cold in his head, or the blue devils, or ennui. His business is to get laughs and he must get them with the regularity of a rapid-fire gun. And sometimes his knowledge is a weight on his mind. What if he should fail? What if the quip that has brought them up standing should leave them in cold silence? Every comedian has had that experience. A bit that has proved absolutely sure-fire for a

The Silent Film Quarterly・!5 hundred nights will suddenly go flat. There are the rows of faces, each one looking very much like every other, and—horror of horrors—each one as still, as patient, as glum, as the faces of the passengers in street cars going home at night. Then it is that the comedian's heart rises in his breast, and his knees tremble under him, and the sweat rolls down his chest and—he does his best or his worst. But when they do laugh and one laugh begets another and you can’t mop your face or open your mouth without setting them off into guffaws! Then the comedian really lives, then he rides the upper air. Then he is a conqueror beside whom Christopher Columbus was a scared adventurer, afraid to go home, and Napoleon a little man with a frown. When his audience is with him he is the king men, he is one with the elements which none can resist. ・・・

The Six Next Sellers By Adela Rogers St. Johns From Photoplay, March 1922

A consensus of expert opinion of the coming personalities of the screen: 1. Conrad Nagel 2. Rudolph Valentino 3. Cullen Landis 4. Colleen Moore 5. Madge Bellamy 6. Lila Lee ・・・

How I Earned My First Money By Tom Mix From McClure’s, August 1927

The first money I earned came from trapping rabbits. If I remember rightly I built traps and snares and sold my catch at the rate of two rabbits for a nickel. In my youthful days a small boy regarded a nickel as a lot of real and ready money. Parents in those days did not consider it wise to supply children with spending money. Any time a boy managed to become the owner

of a little loose change, he got out and hustled for it. At about this time my youthful soul of eleven yearned for a saddle—a saddle of my very own. My only chance to keep from riding bareback came when one of the grown cowboys took a day off and was generous enough to loan me his saddle. Incidentally, I might mention that cowhands, then and now, think a lot of their saddles and are about as willing to loan them as a man today is willing to lend his automobile. Wherefore it was that a saddle was a thing greatly to be desired. I decided that the rabbit business held forth few saddle promises, and that something else should be done. An eastern relative had sent me a rifle for Christmas, but it was a 22-caliber, boy’s pattern and not much use for hunting or anything else, but it gave me an idea. About three miles from my father’s ranch was a small Texas town, and on its principal street was an unused paint shop. I knew the owner. Would he let me use it for a shooting gallery? He would. Always more or less of a mechanical turn of mind, I rigged up all kinds of targets, swinging and fixed. To this day I still think I made the first bunch of movable target ducks, which I worked with a cord and a home-made windlass. I invested my rabbit money for some ammunition and “opened up.” Shooting galleries I had seen in El Paso gave two shots for a nickel, but desiring business I priced mine at three for five cents. My business venture proved a fair success. Day by day my profits grew, and night by night I estimated my totals. A man named Joe Gluntz kept the saddle and harness store of that little Texas town, and I think I priced every saddle in his establishment at least twenty times. One especially caught my eye. I liked its trimmings and its cinches. It was a boy’s saddle, and the price was $31.50. One night I got a great thrill. My little bank now contained $29.10. I needed just

The Silent Film Quarterly・!6 $2.40 more. I had never had a profit of that much in a single day, but I held fond hopes that by Saturday a certain saddle would be sold. In the afternoon of the day following two of the town’s business men came in to settle an argument as to which was the better shot. I loaded and re-loaded the gun. When the pair finished they paid me $2.55. Then it was that a certain important business enterprise of that town closed its doors, liquidated and went out of business forever. I didn’t even wait for the usual closing time. An hour later a boy of about twelve, packing a new saddle on his shoulder and a 22-caliber rifle under his arm, might have been seen heading south along a dusty cattle trail that led to a certain ranch house about three miles away. So fast did the boy go that he might have been taken for a fugitive from justice trying to make the Mexican border just beyond. But he wasn’t. He was just a boy with a saddle—a new saddle, a saddle that was his very own, a saddle that no one could use but himself unless he himself loaned it. And he wasn’t loaning it to anybody in all that big state of Texas. Carefully and tenderly wrapped up each night it was tucked under his bed. Great was his joy of possession, for he know the saddle’s value; he knew the effort he had exchanged for the money to buy it. He felt that he had earned it and that the saddle was his of right. And the boy was I! ・・・

Read This Before Voting From Photoplay, December 1916

Knowing that the moving picture enthusiasts of the nation would be in doubt as to how their votes should be cast on November 7 [1916], until they learned the political predilection of their favorite stars. Photoplay Magazine undertook to make a canvass of the actresses now in California, who will cast their first votes for president. Here is how they stand:

Kathlyn Williams: If I ever vote anything but the straight Democratic ticket, take me back to the lions, lock me in and throw the key away. Wilson, of course. Fannie Ward: If I were old enough to vote, mister, I would do my best for Hughes. I think he’s a terribly nice man, who ought to be encouraged. Mae Murray: I can’t vote here, but if I could it would be Hughes, because he’s from New York, and besides I like the way he parts his whiskers and besides. I never knew anything good to come out of Jersey. Marie Doro: I shall vote for Wilson because I do not believe this is a time to change administrations. Dorothy Gish: Hughes and Fairbanks, if I had a vote. I think Douglas is a perfect darling. Myrtle Stedman: I am for the demolition, abolition and utter annihilation of the entire Democratic party. Cleo Ridgely: After using Wilson for four years, I think we should use no other. I think he’s just splendid in those serious things. And those subtitles he writes are grand. Wilson, that’s all. Anita King: Judging from his makeup, I consider Hughes a better business man than Wilson and will cast my vote accordingly. Louise Glaum: I’m for the Johnnie who wants to have rum abolished. I think his name is Benson. Bessie Barriscale: Wilson has saved the country from chaos. He gets my first vote. Dorothy Dalton: The prices of clothing have gone up so high during Wilson’s administration that I will vote for Hughes. Winifred Kingston: As long as Oliver Morosco is not running, I’ll vote for Hughes as his platform is much superior to that of Wilson. Vivian Martin: I simply can’t see Hughes, he’s too handsome. Let me have homely men about me. Me for Wilson.

The Silent Film Quarterly・!7 Charley Murray (who is not an actress): I am not in favor of any change of administration at this time so will vote again for Andrew Jackson. ・・・

Movie Statistics By Buster Keaton

From Washington Post, March 12, 1922 F i ve h u n d r e d a n d t w e n t y - fi ve thousand, three hundred and forty-rive custard pies were used in the making of comedies during the year 1921. Two of these were good to eat. One thousand, two hundred and ten high silk hats were ruined during the making of comedies. Five were paid for. One billion, seven hundred and sixtyfive million, two hundred fifty-four thousand, three hundred and ten comedy scenarios were sent to screen comics. One was accepted, but not paid for, the company having failed. Two hundred and thirty-seven thousand, eight hundred and sixty-nine people graduated, from correspondence schools of acting, which is one reason why there are more than a half million people in Los Angeles. There are 126,798 mothers in Los Angeles with daughters who bear striking resemblance to Mary Pickford. More than half of these are brunettes. Not one juvenile actor admitted that he looked like Bull Montana. There are 325,642 actors and actresses in Los Angeles. One admitted that he didn’t play in The Birth of a Nation. Two own their full dress outfits. There are 896 directors in Los Angeles; 894 wear puttees; the other two can’t afford them. There are 1,978 scenario writers in Los Angeles. Only two of them admit cutting their own hair, yet six barber shops failed during 1921. There are 792 comics in moviedom. Three stated under cross-examination that Charlie Chaplin was good, too.

One million, nine hundred and twenty thousand, three hundred and forty-one cans of Shinola were used during 1921 by leading men to polish their hair. Sixteen of the handsomest actors wear toupees. Fifteen South Sea island pictures were made in 1921 due to the high cost of clothing. There are 1,987 philanthropists in California. None of them sign the actors’ checks. ・・・

Glad I Cut My Hair By Betty Compson

From Washington Post, March 12, 1922 It took me a year and a half to decide to bob my hair, and for three days afterwards I cried. Now I am glad I did it—bobbed it, I mean. I’ll never have long hair again. It’s silly. In the summer when it was boiling hot, I used to envy men. They had no pounds and pounds of hair curled around their heads. They didn’t have to spend hours every Morning brushing and combing, combing and brushing. They didn’t have to hunt frantically for just one more hairpin when time was short. Now that I’ve bobbed my hair, neither do I. If it happens to be a hot day I can fluff my hair with my fingers, and never have to worry about arranging the strands. I can put on a rubber cap and go swimming,,and if the water does leak through there’s nothing to worry about; my hair will dry in a few minutes. I can give it a couple of swishes with a brush and a comb and I’m ready for the day. Hairpins are only a dim, distant and unbereaved memory. They say long hair is a woman’s crowning glory: Perhaps that’s true. But I’d rather have a bob than crown, any day.

All articles are reproduced exactly as they originally appeared.

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Silents in Review ・・・

Blue Blazes Rawden (1918) Length: five reels (65 minutes) Release date: February 18, 1918 Cast: William S. Hart as Blue Blazes Rawden, Robert McKim as Ladyfingers Hilgard, Gertrude Claire as Mrs. Hilgard, Maude George as Babette Du Fresne ・・・ Blue Blazes Rawden has many of the hallmarks of a William S. Hart film—Hart plays the complex good/bad guy, physical altercations abound, and the tone borders on maudlin at times. However, despite all of these characteristic features, the film is far from Hart’s best work. The reason for this is simple—the great cowboy of the silver screen is taken out of his element, placed in a lumber camp rather than the vast expanses of the Southwest. And while the substitution of forest for desert doesn’t

seem like it would have major ramifications for the film, the setting is responsible for many of the movie’s shortcomings. The film’s first climax, which features Hart dueling in a drunken rage, is so overacted as to seem humorous. The plot, which involves a visit from the mother of a man Hart himself slain, often seems oppressively moralistic, although the film’s final reel (with Hart atoning for his sins) helps to redeem an otherwise unremarkable film. As with most of Hart’s film, the supporting cast proves adequate, but it is Hart himself who must make or break the production. His acting in Blue Blazes Rawden is by no means poor (if you’re a fan of his style, an acquired taste amongst film fans). But without riding Fritz or quick-drawing his pistols, Hart’s persona does not quite work outside of the context of a western. Ultimately, Blue Blazes Rawden is recommended only for Hart’s most devout fans; for casual fans (or fans of the western genre), films such as The Toll Gate and Tumbleweeds remain much more accessible. Blue Blazes Rawden is available on DVD from Alpha Video. ・・・

Pollyanna (1920) Length: 4,712 feet, six reels (58 minutes) Release date: January 18, 1920 Cast: Mary Pickford as Pollyanna, Howard Ralston as Jimmie Bean, Katherine Griffith as Aunt Polly Harrington ・・・ Pollyanna is a remarkably easy silent film to watch. A lean six reels in length and without any major deviations from Eleanor H. Porter’s novel, the movie is over almost before the viewer even realizes it. Perhaps because of its simplicity, Pollyanna was immensely successful upon its release—by some accounts becoming the 5th highest grossing film of 1920. The combination of Mary Pickford with a universally-loved

The Silent Film Quarterly・!9 story, it is hard to imagine the film being anything but a blockbuster. The casting of Pickford as Pollyanna is both expected and unfitting. While the demure actress was known for her childish roles (Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm was made only three years earlier), it is somewhat distracting to see the obviously-adult Pickford playing a girl of about twelve. Even more distracting is the fact that the 27-year-old Pickford is playing opposite Howard Ralston, who was 15 at the time of production. Pickford would be wed to Douglas Fairbanks a mere two months after Pollyanna’s release, which undoubtedly added to the excitement surrounding the film. Pickford’s performance is pleasurable enough, and Herbert Prior (who plays Dr. Chilton) stands out amongst an otherwise unremarkable cast. In fact, the film as a whole is fairly unremarkable, which is presumably exactly what director Paul Powell wanted. Instead of producing an artistic epic (like D.W. Griffith would do just eight months later with Way Down East), Pollyanna was an early attempt by United Artists to be commercially successful instead of critically acclaimed. Pickford plays Pollyanna exactly like you’d expect her to—and that’s exactly what audiences in 1920 wanted. Pollyanna is available on DVD from Alpha Video, St. Clair Entertainment, or for streaming online at archive.org. ・・・

Short Kilts (1924) Length: two reels (21 minutes) Release date: August 3, 1924 Cast: James Finlayson as McGregor’s son, Stan Laurel as McPherson’s son, Mickey Daniels as McPherson’s kid, Ena Gregory as McGregor’s daughter ・・・ Short Kilts is one of the numerous shorts produced starring half of the Laurel and Hardy comic duo before Hal Roach

decided to pair the two. These early shorts are notoriously variable in quality, as they were typically produced quickly and on a small budget, without lasting artistic merit in mind. Unfortunately, Short Kilts is an utterly unremarkable film that does little to demonstrate the impeccable comedic acting that both Finlayson and Laurel would come to perfect in just a few short years. Laurel—lovable for his slow, dimwittedness when paired with Ollie— plays an uncharacteristically frenetic and broad character, animated to a fault and lacking any of the subtlety that later made him so popular. Mickey Daniels, already having starred in more than two dozen “Our Gang” shorts, does little to enhance the film. It does demonstrate, though, the repertoire of character actors Hal Roach had to work with; players from his various series of comedies would regularly pop up unexpectedly in productions that weren’t theirs. There is one scene, a game of musical chairs, that provides arguably the only laugh in the whole film because it foreshadows the humorous interplay between Finlayson and Laurel. The rest of Short Kilts, however, is little more than a random string of physical gags pulled almost verbatim from Keystone comedies of a decade earlier. Short Kilts, while only a two-reeler, nevertheless manages lag at times; as a whole the film feels dated and unfunny. But, like all of Stan and Ollie’s early shorts, it is important in that it proves that the legendary duo were much more than merely a sum of their parts. Only recommended for the most devout fans. Short Kilts is available on DVD from Alpha Video as part of the Hall Roach All-Star Comedies collection (the restoration reviewed here and Kino Video as part of The Stan Laurel Collection. ・・・

The Silent Film Quarterly・!10 Over the Fence (1917) Length: one reel (5½ minutes survive) Release date: September 9, 1917 Cast: Harold Lloyd as Ginger, Bebe Daniels as Ginger’s girl, Snub Pollard as Snitch ・・・ Over the Fence is an entirely unassuming film. On a surface level, it appears virtually indistinguishable from many of Harold Lloyd’s other early one-reelers. Lloyd and Snub Pollard are competing for the attention of Bebe Daniels—a plot so common it appears in nearly every one of Lloyd’s early films, regardless of the setting or the particular hijinks he gets himself into. This time, Harold Lloyd finds himself working as a tailor who comes into two tickets to a baseball game. Naturally he invites Bebe, only to find the tickets have been stolen by his rival, Snub. Unable to enter the ballpark, he eventually manages to play in the game—thereby putting him in a position to win his girl back. With a running time of about 5:36 today, there would seem very little to write about Over the Fence, if not for one important historical fact: this was the first time Lloyd would appear on screen as his beloved “Glasses Character.” Although he had been developing the persona for some time, Roach was reluctant to abandon Lloyd’s immensely popular Lonesome Luke character. For the next few months after Over the Fence was released, Lloyd would alternate between the two, before finally retiring Luke for good towards the end of 1917. Over the Fence is not a particularly great film, but if one can see past its simplicity and primitiveness its significance becomes apparent. Without Over the Fence, the Harold Lloyd that is so fondly regarded today may never have developed. Lonesome Luke may have run its course, and Lloyd would have faded into the obscurity faced by countless other screen comedians. The humanity that his new character brought to

the screen made him instantly relatable to audiences, and allowed for a faster rise to fame than Lloyd or Roach could have ever expected. So if you watch Over the Fence, don’t expect a masterpiece of silent cinema. Instead, look at it as the very first steps towards such brilliant films as Safety Last!, Girl Shy, or The Freshman. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither was Lloyd’s Glasses Character. It would take several years, three leading ladies, and more than a little bit of refinement and nuance. But without Over the Fence, that process may never have even begun. Over the Fence is available for streaming online. ・・・

Late to Lunch (1987) Length: four reels (38 minutes) Release date: July 18, 2002 Cast: John Carpenter as John Kirby, Donna Fox as Viola, Michael Schwendamen as Robespierre Klein ・・・ No, the production date of this film is not a typo. Late to Lunch was indeed filmed in 1987, but didn’t make its premiere until 15 years later. The man behind the production was John Carpenter, a silent film collector, preservationist, and devotee of Charley Chase. Late to Lunch was his tribute not only to Chase, but to the silent era as a whole. The plot is simple, as is the case with so many early comedies. Carpenter plays John Kirby, a dapper man who cannot seem to wake up in time to meet his girlfriend for lunch. His dreams are filled with exotic adventures, but his reality is plagued by his penchant for sleeping in. Eventually, Kirby is able to overcome his rival suitor—and his own drowsiness—and is able to marry Viola. Late to Lunch is very obviously an homage to Charley Chase, but subtle references to other silent stars abound. There is a desert scene straight out of The

The Silent Film Quarterly・!11 Sheik, while a fencing scene calls to mind Fairbanks as Zorro. All of the classic silent film gags are used—a woman struggles to carry too many bags and boxes, a gentleman slips on a slick patch of sidewalk, and a presumedly secure dog breaks loose from his chain to terrorize the protagonist. There is nothing groundbreaking about Late to Lunch, and therein lies its charm. The film lacks pretense and precocity, instead choosing to be a respectful salute to comedies of the 1920s. Carpenter’s acting (and direction) might have found him a home right alongside Larry Semon or Charley Chase had he been born decades earlier; but, living in a post-silent world, Carpenter instead chose to create an earnest tribute to them. If you enjoy short comedies from the 1920s, or if you’re a fan of modern takes on the silent era (a la The Artist), then you’ll be entertained by Late to Lunch. It is clear that Carpenter is an appreciator of silent films first and foremost, and it is because of this that Late to Lunch is so throughly enjoyable. Late to Lunch is available from Alpha Video as part of Silent Comedy Classics, which also features 11 classic shorts from the 1910s and 1920s.

Sally Phipps: Silent Film Star

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See page 29 for an article by Robert L. Harned

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Celluloid Collectibles Artifacts from and about the silent era ・・・ Canco Beautebox tins are a fun collectible for fans of the silent era. Small metal tins, typically about five inches across and an inch or two tall, Beauteboxes featured colorful designs of the most popular movie stars on them. There were also rectangular tins made by Canco, most often used as pencil boxes. Dating to 1922, these tins were advertised as “something NEW in novelty metal boxes…used for sewing, c a n d y, jewel, nut, collar and tobac c o boxes.” Prices ranged from 15¢ to $1 depending on the size of the tin. While several designs did not feature actual movie stars, the majority showed 1922’s biggest stars in instantly r e c o g n i z a b l e p o s e s. Rudolph Valentino is depicted as the Sheik, while Charlie Chaplin and Jackie Coogan are shown as they appeared in The Kid. Other movie stars who had Beauteboxes created included Gloria Swanson, Bebe Daniels, Betty Compson, Wallace Reid, Mae Murray, and Pola Negri. Some were only produced as round tins, while others were solely

rectangular. All of the artwork for the series was done by Henry Clive, who was one of the most prolific artists in the early days of Hollywood. His paintings of stars were used in many promotional campaigns, and the works he did for Beauteboxes are colorful and striking; in fact, some art collectors today praise them solely for their Art Deco design. C a n c o Beautebox tins are remarkably affordable, and the limited number of designs make them extremely collectible. Some, such as Valentino and Chaplin, carry a slight premium (selling for between $40-50), but the less-recognizable names can usually be purchased for $20-30. Even at these prices, Beauteboxes seem like a remarkable value—a tiny piece of 1920s artwork, depicting some of the biggest stars on the planet, on a tin that is not only beautiful but also practical. The selection of stars may seem curious, as several big names—Mary Pickford, Douglas Fairbanks, and Lillian Gish, to name a few—are conspicuously absent, while stars who have more limited recognition today (like Mae Murray and Betty Compson) are beautifully depicted. The reason for this is unknown, and shows the fickleness of 1920s publicity. Pictured here are the Bebe Daniels tin and Charlie Chaplin pencil box, both from the editor’s personal collection.

The Silent Film Quarterly・!13

Silent Star In Brief Harold Lockwood ・・・ Had Harold Lockwood not died at the age of 31 in 1918, he may have been one of the most famous names of the silent era. Decades before Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire, Katharine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy, or Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall, audiences were enthralled by the onscreen romance of Harold Lockwood and May Allison. Lockwood’s appeal as a leading man was almost unrivaled for an extremely fleeting moment, before the Spanish Influenza claimed one of Hollywood’s brightest potentials. Born on April 12, 1887 in Newark, New Jersey, Lockwood began his motion picture career in 1911—first with the Rex Motion Picture Company, and later with the Nestor Film Company. When the latter opened a studio in Hollywood, Lockwood moved to Los Angeles from New Jersey. He

was quickly placed in leading roles, primarily in westerns. For the next several years, Lockwood moved from studio to studio—working for Ince, Selig, and finally Adolph Zukor’s Famous Players, where he starred opposite Mary Pickford in several pictures. 1915’s David Harum represented the first pairing between Harold Lockwood and May Allison. The two would go on to make 22 pictures together, and although they were never romantically linked in real life, audiences couldn’t get enough of the duo. Ultimately they were broken up for financial reasons, although both continued to be immensely successful. It was during early October, 1918 when Lockwood fell ill while on the set of a movie. Less that three weeks later, he would become one of the 675,000 who died at the hands of the Spanish Influenza. Lockwood, only 31, was buried at Woodlawn Cemetery in the Bronx. Tributes from around the motion picture world poured in at the loss of one of their own. Remarkably few of Lockwood’s films survive today, and shortly after his death he was replaced by an entirely new group of matinee idols. His son, 10 at the time of his father’s death, changed his name to Harold Lockwood, Jr. and experienced a shortlived career in the late-1920s, while May Allison voluntarily retired from movies in 1927. The duo who had been household names for a few short years were quickly relegated to the history books. While an honest appraisal of Lockwood’s legacy is impossible given the scant remains of his career, his immense success deserves to be remembered nearly a century after his passing. The tragically short life of Harold Lockwood will forever beg the question, “What could have been?”

Recommended Films: David Harum (1915) Tess of the Storm Country (1914) The Ball Player and the Bandit (1912)

The Silent Film Quarterly・!14

The Charlie Chaplin Archives: A Preview of Taschen’s New Tome on the Little Tramp by Charles Epting More than any other actor from the silent era, Charlie Chaplin has endured to the present day. Garbo, Fairbanks, Valentino, Swanson, and Bow can’t hold a candle to Chaplin’s level of recognition in the 21st century. The American Film Institute ranked him the 10th greatest screen actor of all time (the only silent star to make the top 20), while three of his movies made the AFI’s list of 100 greatest films. His trademark “Little Tramp,” with his bowler, toothbrush mustache, cane, and ill-fitting clothes, still remains one of the most beloved characters in cinematic history. With someone as famous as Chaplin, it is easy to assume that everything that could possibly be written about him already has been. Every detail of his life, both professional and personal, has been rehashed countless times. As recently as April of 2015, Chaplin made headlines

around the world when details from his divorce papers with Lita Grey were disclosed. Few actors in history have been more closely scrutinized, more harshly judged, and more glowingly praised. His life was one of great successes and controversial scandals, all of which are very much a matter of public record. Love him or hate him (or more likely some complex combination of the two), the life of Chaplin is a well-tread path. That’s where Taschen’s The Charlie Chaplin Archives comes in. Edited by Paul Duncan, who has previously edited and

Chaplin relaxes with the dance hall girls on the set of “The Gold Rush” (1925).

The Silent Film Quarterly・!15 authored tomes on Ingmar Bergman, Alfred Hitchcock, and Stanley Kubrick, the new book was compiled with unprecedented, unrestricted access to the Charlie Chaplin archives. 900 images, many of which have never been seen by the public, accompany text consisting of Chaplin’s own words and the words of his closest collaborators. Never before has such an exhaustive overview of Chaplin’s career been undertaken, making this the definitive guide to a man who at times seems undefinable. Of course, battles will continue to rage about the personal demons that so often manifested themselves into public scandal. So often, people love to draw attention to the controversies in the life of an obviously imperfect man (whether its Lita Grey or the Red Scare), rather than highlight his undeniable artistic accomplishments. This is where The Charlie

Production sketch for “The Circus” (1928).

Chaplin Archives truly shines. The new work highlights Chaplin’s creative process, giving the reader an inside look at deleted scenes, scripts, storyboards, and costume designs that have rarely (if ever) been shared with the public. There is no shortage of books about the life and work of Charlie Chaplin. Every reader should begin with My Autobiography (first published in 1964). From there, the possibilities are endless: many consider David Robinson’s Chaplin: His Life and Art essential reading, while Charlie Chaplin: A Photo Diary had previously cornered the market on coffee table books. But with the release of The Charlie Chaplin Archives, a new book must be added to the list of vital texts for Chaplin scholars and silent film fans alike. Just as Kevin Brownlow’s Mary Pickford Rediscovered remains the best book available on America’s Sweetheart more than a decade after its release, The Charlie Chaplin Archives promises to assume a similar role for the Little Tramps countless admirers.

Chaplin as “The Souse” during his US tour of “A Night in a London Club” (1911).

The Charlie Chaplin Archives is available as of September, 2015 from Taschen Books with a suggested retail price of $200. All images in this article are used with permission from Taschen and are featured in the book.

The Silent Film Quarterly・!16

How Did They Do That?: The Birth of Technicolor by Debra Ann Pawlak Almost as soon as moving pictures were invented, people began trying to colorize them. In this excerpt from her book, Bringing Up Oscar: The Story of the Men and Women Who Founded the Academy, author Debra Ann Pawlak explores the inception of one of the most influential of these processes: Technicolor. ・・・ As flickers became more complex both d r a m a t i c a l l y a n d c r e a t i ve l y, n e w technology was needed to accommodate the developing art form. Soon it wasn’t enough to just roll the film while people sneezed or kissed or gyrated. To keep spectators coming back for more, character s and stories had to be entertaining and rendered in an effective manner. Of course, some razzle-dazzle never hurt either. Early special effects using double exposures and miniatures, along with a little animation, was sure to leave the audience scratching their heads in amazement. The controversial concepts of color and sound whispered their way around every studio. The color process was expensive and many believed that audience eyestrain would result. Who would want to leave the theater with tired, red eyes? Sound would be even more revolutionary. The studios would have to find a completely new way of working; movie theaters would have to be reconfigured; writers would be required to come up with snappy dialogue, which in turn actors would have to deliver, allowing story-lines to become even more complex and opening whole new frontiers as to the range of emotions films could convey. These were overwhelming ideas to an industry firmly entrenched in shades of gray and silence.

But determined men and women who believed that they were on to something had built the motion picture industry to its current state and were willing to push forward despite their critics. These revolutionaries weren’t afraid to take a chance. Like it or not, they realized that a ground-breaking art form had no room for complacency. Progressive changes found their way in through the unique skills and imagination of many technicians behind the scenes and studio heads at the forefront who were willing to take a risk. Their names may not be legendary, but their specialized accomplishments that resulted in a film’s awe-inspiring moments are hard to forget. These technicians and their mysterious knowledge base were well respected throughout the industry, giving them their own brand of Hollywood power. In 1912, two Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) graduates and professors, Drs. Herbert Kalmus and Daniel Comstock, teamed up with W. Burton Wescott to form Kalmus, Comstack and Wescott—a cutting-edge engineering firm. By 1915, they were ready to take on the challenge of color and set up their first film laboratory in Boston inside a railroad car. The boxcar was outfitted with a photochemical laboratory, darkrooms and the most modern equipment needed to

Dr. Herbert Kalmus, one of the pioneers of the Technicolor process.

The Silent Film Quarterly・!17 develop film. It even had a sign on top that proudly announced the extension of their original company: “Technicolor Motion Picture Corporation.” The “Techni” part was a reverential nod to Kalmus’ and Comstock’s alma mater. The Technicolor team took their train to Jacksonville, Florida in 1917 where they filmed their first color movie, The Gulf Between starring Grace Darmond and Niles Welch. At that time, Technicolor consisted of only two color components— red and green. With Comstock acting as producer, the film was impressive, but definitely left room for improvement. Showing the movie was another matter. It required a special projector and according to Kalmus “an operator who was a cross between a college professor and an acrobat.” As the team continued working toward improving their color process, influential members of the film community like

Marcus Loew and the Schenck brothers noticed. By the time Technicolor released their next production, and the first color feature filmed in Hollywood, many enhancements were made. The Toll of the Sea (1922) starred Asian actress Anna May Wong, one of the few non-white actresses of the day, and did not require a special projector or an acrobat to run it. Chester Franklin directed the romantic drama while Technicolor engineer Joseph Arthur Ball manned the camera. B a l l w a s b o r n i n C a m b r i d g e, Massachusetts on August 16, 1894 to Elijah Ball who, at the time, was a baker, and his wife, Clara Peterson, who was originally from Sweden. Named after his paternal grandfather, Ball was a middle child with two brothers, Robert, the eldest, born in 1892 and Theodore, the youngest, who came along in 1898. Robert served in the Great War as a First Lieutenant in the U.S. Army. The twenty-six-year-old soldier

The Silent Film Quarterly・!18 never came home. He died on June 20, 1918 from battle wounds and was buried in the Aisne-Marne American Cemetery located in Belleau, France. After graduating from high school, the middle Ball attended MIT where he earned his degree. He took an engineering job with Kalmus, Comstock and Wescott— the same team that eventually turned into Technicolor. The group got into the motion picture business when they were asked to stop the flickers from flickering. After extensive research, Kalmus and company concluded that flickers would always flicker, but maybe they could be colorized, so the men changed their focus. Technicolor incorporated in 1915 with Kalmus as president and Comstock vice president. Encouraged by their accomplishments with The Gulf Between (1917), the group knew they could do better. It took another five years, however, before their next color production was released, the aforementioned The Toll of the Sea, which was filmed under the watchful eye of producer Joseph M. Schenck. Hollywood was impressed, but there were still a couple of issues that needed fixing—the high cost of color film and its restricted hues. Color film ran about 27 cents per foot while standard nitrate film rang up at 8 cents— more than a 300 percent difference. Secondly, the color process itself remained limited to red and green—that elusive color blue was still at large. By the time Ball took his turn behind the camera, he was a married man. He wed Isabel Osann on October 27, 1920 in Cambridge. Osann’s father, Bernard, came from Hamburg, Germany and eventually settled in the Chicago area where he was a highly regarded traveling salesman for the United States Envelope Company. Isabel’s older brother, Norman, graduated from the University of Wisconsin in 1912. He then furthered his education by enrolling in MIT’s Electrical Engineering Program and also became an instructor at the school

before joining Kalmus, Comstock and Wescott in their new venture. Despite the drawbacks of cost and that still-missing shade of blue, The Toll of the Sea sparked interest from several of Hollywood’s most influential citizens including Jesse L. Lasky, Douglas Fairbanks and D.W. Griffith. As a result, Kalmus sent several engineers including Ball, now a Technical Director, to the west coast. The group rented a building and set up their Technicolor shop—just a small extension of their Boston business. In 1923, the Famous Players Lasky Corporation signed up to produce a colorized version of The Wanderer of the Wasteland (1924). The film was based on a Zane Grey novel and starred favorite cowboy hero Jack Holt. It was also the first western filmed in Technicolor—still a twocolor process. Due to their limited facilities, however, much of the work had to be done in Boston. Shipping the film back and forth across the country was cumbersome and certainly not an efficient way to do business. Although Lasky didn’t mind the long distance, other filmmakers did. Therefore, the group built a more sophisticated laboratory in Hollywood and, in 1924, they were ready to do business on a full scale—except for that hard-to-pindown color, blue. The following year, Kalmus and Comstock experienced a disagreement resulting in Kalmus’ departure from the partnership. He took Technicolor, Ball and Norman Osann with him. It would take some time, and a whole lot of effort, but the face of film would one day transform.

Bringing Up Oscar: The Story of the Men and Women Who Founded the Academy, by Debra Ann Pawlak, is available for purchase at amazon.com. For more information about Debra Ann Pawlak, including her screenplay about Clara Bow, visit debraannpawlak.com.

The Silent Film Quarterly・!19

The Man Who Plays: A Conversation with Silent Film Pianist Cliff Retallick by Charles Epting The UCLA Film & Television Archive recently presented a retrospective of the films of William A. Wellman, best known for such films as the Academy Awardwinning Wings, The Public Enemy, and Beau Geste. Each of the double-features at the university’s Billy Wilder Theater featured an introduction from William Wellman, Jr., author of Wild Bill Wellman: Hollywood Rebel. One of Wellman’s lesser-known silent films is Beggars of Life, which follows the lives of two hobos—Louise Brooks and Richard Arlen—as they try to escape the law after her abusive father’s murder. Along they way they meet an unconventional cast of characters, including the inimitable Wallace Beery. The sound version—which featured very little actual sound—was Paramount’s first talkie and included a humorous song from Beery, the first time the star’s voice was heard by many of his fans. The version UCLA presented was entirely silent. That’s not exactly fair to say, though. As any silent film fan will tell you, silent films were (and are) far from silent thanks to the music they are often accompanied by. This night’s screening would feature the

music of Cliff Retallick, a well-known and respected pianist of the Los Angeles silent film circuit. His score—not previously composed, but rather improvised in the moment—not only complimented and enhanced the performances of Brooks, Arlen, and Beery. Having a spontaneous score also harkened back to the early days of cinema, when local pianists in countless movie houses around the world likewise composed music on the spot. Following the screening (which also featured Wellman’s Wild Boys of the Road, a pre-code drama shot in a semidocumentary style) my girlfriend and I joined Cliff and his wife Marie for dinner. As a longtime silent film fan I was anxious to hear his story and try to learn just how a silent film pianist translates images on a screen into a musical score. The four of us left the theater and crossed the street to a hole-in-the-wall Thai restaurant. With Cliff and I in suits and fedoras and the ladies in vintage dresses, we couldn’t have looked any more out of place. The waitress tucked us into a corner booth, we ordered, and Cliff and I began our discussion of silent film scoring. ・・・ I first asked Cliff to tell me a little bit about his background in accompanying silent films. He had his first experience while a film music student at the North Carolina School of the Arts (also where he met Marie). “There was a summer program they offered in Manteo, a little town in North Carolina, and they were thinking they’d have students from the school of the arts go down and play for the tourists who came in,” he explained. “Part of the program every summer was they would show two silent films. They came around, they were asking people from the music department, they were asking all around campus because nobody does this. It’s a weird occupation. Nobody does it because nobody can.”

The Silent Film Quarterly・!20 “Especially in North Carolina,” Marie added with a giggle. C l i f f c o n t i n u e d : “ I ’d b e e n a professional piano player for a long time, so I thought, ‘I’ll give this a try.’ The first film I played—I was really lucky—was [Charlie Chaplin’s] Easy Street. It’s just such an easy movie to play, because it’s so rhythmic. Chaplin’s films really are very rhythmic. He and Buster Keaton are like playing for dancers. There’s a beat to the movie. “I practiced like crazy. I thought is was going to be hard, and it was. It was tremendously difficult the first time I did it. I thought, ‘How am I going to do this? How am I going to line up everything that happens? I’m not going to write it down, I’m going to have to think through everything. I’ve got to just make this up and remember it all.’ So I did it. And the response was amazing.” What helped Cliff was a preexisting love of music from the 1920s and 30s. Gershwin Plays Gershwin in particular had a major impact on his style, he explained, and the ability to play that genre of music quickly made the transition to silent film scoring that much easier. And just like that, Cliff was on his way to becoming a silent film pianist. Cliff played one more film that summer, and after graduation he and Marie moved to Los Angeles—“it’s just what you do after film school,” she explained. One day Cliff was driving down Fairfax when he noticed a sign that said “Silent Movie Theater. “And I thought, ‘You’ve got to be kidding me, there’s a silent movie theater in LA?’ So I went back home, looked them up, and found out they were in the process of renovating. I got to town the month before they reopened the place. “So I wrote them a letter, and I didn’t get a reply. I kind of forgot about it, and suddenly there’s this note in my inbox that asks if I wanted to come in for an audition.” His excitement was tempered, however, by the reputation of the Silent

Film Theater’s resident accompanist— Robert Mitchell. “These people I’d talked to all said he was legendary. They said he’s the guy in Los Angeles, and I thought ‘Great, I’m glad I’m finding this out now. Why do they even want me to go in?’” Bob Mitchell was indeed legendary in the silent film world, as he was one of the last original silent film accompanists surviving (having first worked in theaters from 1924 to 1928). However, by his mid-90s he was often unable to perform in Los Angeles, and the theater needed an understudy for his occasional absences. So Cliff was called in and asked to play along to three reels. “One was a chase sequence, I think from Cops with Buster Keaton. One was drama of some sort, I don’t even remember. I just played. And the lights came up, and they said ‘Would you like to play next month?’” Cliff was hired to play every time Bob was unavailable. Eventually, Cliff also began to play for UCLA’s Film & Television Archive, who initially needed someone to fill in for their regular pianist. Over time, it became a regular gig. The same thing happened with the American Cinematheque at the Egyptian Theater—their accompanist called in sick, and Cliff was called in as an understudy. “He played one time, and they’ve never had the other guy back,” Marie proudly added. ・・・ Knowing how Cliff came to become one of the most respected silent film pianists, I now wanted to understand his creative process a little bit better. Just an hour earlier, he’d been playing brilliant score to the delightful acting of Louise Brooks. But how did the score that so nicely complimented the images on-screen come to be? Cliff is used to such queries. “The two questions an audience always asks me are, ‘How long did it take you to memorize all of that music?’ and ‘Who wrote the score?’ Always the same two

The Silent Film Quarterly・!21 questions. I could be in New York, or LA, or Peoria, and it’s always the same two questions. The answer usually is, ‘You and I saw the movie together for the first time.’ “At this point, I almost never get a screener. They used to bend over backwards to get me screeners, then it didn’t happen a few times, and I think they just found out I could do it without it. It’s hard because a lot of what I play is so rare that it’s not on DVD. Beggars of Life is not that rare, but it’s rare among Louise Brooks films. I remember the first time I played it it was a huge deal. People came from everywhere to see it because they hadn’t seen it in years and years. Before tonight, the only time I’d seen Beggars of Life was when I played it the first time.” I couldn’t believe that the music I’d just heard was composed on the fly—and after having only seen the movie twice. Surely he must have had some idea of what he was going to play when he sat down at the keyboard. Cliff assured me he didn’t— usually.

“I do sketch out some themes sometimes. I wrote a little song this afternoon before we left that I thought I would use, but I ended up not using the song. I got up there and it just didn’t feel right. I used something else that I just made up. Some things I do quote, like [Irving Berlin’s 1919 melody] “How Dry I Am,” when Wallace Beery came onscreen with the liquor barrel. But I’m not a huge fan of that, that’s not really my style. There’s other people who only do that, but it’s just not me. I get more out of composing my own music, and I think the audience does too.” My appreciation for his craft only grew upon learning the improvisational nature of his scores. ・・・ Silent film scoring has always fascinated me. In the past year I’ve had the privilege of seeing the Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra play along to Modern Times, and I attended the debut of Carl Davis’s new score to Steamboat Bill, Jr. But the concept of a single piano player

The Silent Film Quarterly・!22 playing along film always appealed to me. After all, unless you were in a major venue like New York or Los Angeles in the 1920s, you were much more likely to see a film accompanied by a lone piano or organ as opposed to a full orchestra. Grandiose scores are fun, but simplistic scores always struck me as more authentic. I asked Cliff if he ever took that into consideration. “I’m just trying to do a job,” he laughed, “but most people tell what you’re telling me. Which is great, I’m glad. Most people tell me, ‘You’re like the neighborhood piano player back in the day.’” He also echoed my preference for spontaneous versus pre-composed scores— especially when it comes to comedies. “Take a movie like Harold Lloyd’s The Freshman. One man with a piano can really just blow an orchestra off the stage with a comedy like that.” Having just seen his artistry at work, I couldn’t help but agree. ・・・ As our meal was wrapping up, I became curious if Cliff had a favorite actor to play along to. But just like when you ask most silent movie fans to pick a favorite actor or actress, there wasn’t an easy answer. “It’s so tough,” he explained. “I love Clara Bow—she’s really easy to play to. So is Buster Keaton. But I also love Garbo, I love the way she acts. Then there’s Louise Brooks, her energy is different from anybody’s. It’s all about energy.” Likewise, I wanted to know if there was an actor or director who proved particularly difficult to write music for. This question had a much more straightforward answer: “For me, it’s very difficult to conceptualize music for earlier silent films. Especially in the dramatic realm, when it was still very much like stage plays. D.W. Griffith films are very difficult. Some of them are absolutely brilliant, but they’re still very difficult. That’s challenging to me.

“Dramas can be very verbose, and that’s not good in a silent film. When people are standing around talking, that’s very hard to play to. Look how lean Beggars of Life was tonight, there were relatively few title cards. The storytelling is so visual. You just didn’t need title cards. You saw people talk and you didn’t care what they said, you already knew what they were saying and you made up the dialogue as you followed the action.” As we left the restaurant, I had one last question for Cliff: what is his dream movie to score? He stopped and thought for a minute. “All of Keaton’s films are so genius. I’d love to do a film that’s that compact. But they’ve all been so over-scored, and I’m not happy with the execution of many of the scores. I would equally love to do Sunrise, which I’ve already written a score for, but that original score still exists. Or maybe something like The Last Laugh. I just don’t know.” Marie laughed at his indecision. “You say it all the time though! You’ll play a movie and say that’s the one you want to score.” ・・・ Brooks, Arlen, and Beery are all phenomenal in Beggars of Life, but films such as this one can be enjoyed at any time from the comfort of your home. Technology has made it easier than ever to view once-rare films. One thing that can’t ever be recreated, though, is the experience of sitting in a theater, waiting for the lights to go down, and hearing the first notes ring out from the piano. Cliff—and other silent film pianists—provide audiences with an invaluable service. If you’re ever fortunate enough to have the opportunity to see a silent film with live accompaniment— whether it’s a well-known favorite or an obscurity—take it. You won’t regret it. ・・・ For more information about Cliff Retallick and to view his upcoming performances, visit his website at www.cliffretallick.com.

The Silent Film Quarterly・!23

Hollywood’s Silent Echoes: A Tour of 1920s Film Locations by John Bengtson Few silent film authors have achieved the level of respect that John Bengtson has. His three books—Silent Traces, Silent Echoes, and Silent Visions, detail (with incredible precision) the filming locations of Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton, and Harold Lloyd, respectively. (All three are, in the opinion of the editor, required reading for silent film.) Bengtson also gives frequent talks on silent film locations and actively maintains his blog with up-to-date research and new discoveries. Even the New York Times is savvy to his incredible work, calling him the “great detective of silent film locations.” The following tour was created by Bengtson to accompany a talk given in Hollywood, but it stands on its own as an invaluable guide to the movie capital’s last remaining traces of the silent era. ・・・ 1. The Hollywood tour begins, symbolically, at the corner of Hollywood and Vine. First notice the Taft Building at the SE corner, built in 1924. It appears during The Cameraman (1928) as Buster Keaton jumps onto a fire truck turning the corner. 2. The Broadway Hollywood Building at the SW corner, built in 1927, refurbished in 1931, appears in Charlie Chaplin’s Moder n Times (1936). The Hollywood Boulevard entrance appears when Charlie learns a job has become available, and the stairs on the Vine Street side of the building is where Charlie announces to Paulette Goddard that he was given that job. The stairs on Vine Street once leading below grade have now been filled

in.

Harold Lloyd’s first Walk of Fame Star, for motion pictures, is located two blocks south at 1591 Vine Street. 3. Travel north up Vine toward the landmark Capitol Records Building built in 1956, at the corner of Yucca. Then turn right (east) and follow the curve of the road to the left (north) up Argyle to Franklin. This short block is where Harold Lloyd filmed stunts on the roof of a runaway trolley in Girl Shy (1924). The former Red Car line of the Pacific Electric Railway transitioned from west on Franklin to south on Vine by running along this unique curved street, which Lloyd filmed from over a dozen different vantage points. 4. Take note of the NE corner of Franklin and Argyle. This was the site of Castle Glengarry, home to silent film star Sessue Hayakawa. Further up Argyle, past the corner of Vine on the left (west) side of the street, was the site of Castle Sans Souci, the mansion appearing in Chaplin’s Tillie’s Punctured Romance (1914). Castle Sans Souci appears in the 1925 Our Gang comedy Mary, Queen of Tots.

The Security Bank Building at Hollywood and Cahuenga, seen here the year before Harold Lloyd filmed Girl Shy.

The Silent Film Quarterly・!24 5. Return to Hollywood Boulevard, turn right (west), and travel two blocks. The Security Bank Building at the NE corner of Hollywood and Cahuenga, built in 1922, portrayed the book publisher’s office in Lloyd’s Girl Shy. It also appears briefly during a dizzying montage after Charlie is released from a mental hospital in Modern Times. Raymond Chandler’s fictional detective Philip Marlowe had an office here. Buster Keaton’s second Walk of Fame Star, for television, is located a block east from Vine at 6233 Hollywood Boulevard. 6. Next, look west (right) down Hollywood from the NE corner of Cahuenga. This intersection appears during the conclusion of Why Worry? (1923) as Harold informs his friend the giant that Harold has become a father. The building at 6410 Hollywood Boulevard near the SW corner, built in 1907, appears in the film, and during a scene in Chaplin’s Tillie’s Punctured Romance. The same viewpoint of this intersection appears during a traveling shot in Harry Langdon’s 1925 short His Marriage Wow.

7. Travel south down Cahuenga from Hollywood Boulevard. Lloyd filmed many scenes along this block, as did Buster Keaton. On the west side of Cahuenga, just south from the corner of Hollywood, Mildred Davis and Roy Brooks stood at the alley beside what is now the All Nude Cahuenga Video, for a scene in Never Weaken (1921). Across the street, on the east side of Cahuenga, is the alley appearing in Cops (1922), where Keaton grabs a passing car one‐handed, and flies out of frame. 8. Traveling further south, the vacant lot is the site of the former Fremont Hotel, where Douglas Fairbanks scrambled from the sidewalk to the roof in his 1917 short Flirting With Fate. Doug also filmed beside the Green Door Cafe, on the east side of Cahuenga, south of Buster’s Cops alley. 9. A bit further south, the Edmonds Tower, at 1635 Cahuenga, is the site of the former Hollywood joint fire/police station, where Charlie Chaplin filmed the Little Tramp enlisting in the police force in Easy Street (1917). The fire station also appears in Flirting With Fate, the 1924 Our Gang comedy High Society, and the 1925 Harry Langdon short Plain Clothes, as well during Harold Lloyd’s wild family drive, cut off by a racing fire engine, in Hot Water (1924). The extant Hotel Café building next door, built in 1922, appears during the Lloyd scene. The front of the station is also where a driver is ticketed when giving Harold a ride to work in Safety Last! (1923).

The former Hollywood police and fire station, where Chaplin, Keaton, Lloyd, Our Gang, and Langdon all filmed.

10. The former Hollywood fire station also appears in Keaton’s T hree Ages (1923) and T he Cameraman (1928). The parking lot across the street from the Edmonds Tower is where Buster parked his cow Brown Eyes during Go West (1925). The alley

The Silent Film Quarterly・!25 between the Edmonds Tower and the Hotel Café is also where Buster filmed scenes for his short films Neighbors (1920), Hard Luck (1921) and The Goat (1921). 11. As you continue south from the Edmonds Tower, note the buildings across the street at 1626, 1614, and 1612 Cahuenga, all appearing in Lloyd’s Safety Last!, and in Keaton’s The Cameraman. 12. Travel further south down Cahuenga to the SW corner of Selma. The remodeled, but likely original building there was the Cahuenga Public Market appearing in Hot Water and Girl Shy. 13. The strip mall at the SE corner is the site of the former Toribuchi Grocery, appearing in Keaton’s The Goat. The building next door, at 1542 Cahuenga, appears briefly, and is still standing. 14. Continue one block further south to Sunset. During a sequence in Day Dreams (1922) that cuts back and forth between Hollywood and San Francisco, Buster rides a prop trolley car east along Sunset Boulevard past the building on the NW corner of Cahunega. Turn west towards Wilcox and travel half a block to 6457‐ 6455 Sunset. It was here millionaire Harold Lloyd purchased one of his disposable luxury cars at the beginning of For Heaven’s Sake (1926). Return east on Sunset to Cahuenga. For a time Cahuenga did not always continue straight south across Sunset, but for med a “T” intersection. Buster filmed early scenes from his debut film One Week (1920) at this “T” intersection, when he hits a cop with a billy club, and puts the incriminating club in Handy Hank’s hand. Travel east along Sunset one short block to Ivar. On the SE corner, where the Cinerama Dome now stands, Buster and his One Week bride Sybil Seely rejoin their driverless moving car as it heads south on Ivar from Sunset. Return back to Selma and Cahuenga.

15. Turn left (east) on Selma for a half block until you reach the alley named Cosmo. Here Keaton’s hand was bitten by a dog as he signaled a left turn in Cops. A view of this corner, looking south towards Selma, appears in the Fairbanks comedy Flirting With Fate. 16. Turn left (north) up Cosmo a short ways, for a better view of the alley as it appears in Cops with Keaton attaching his boxing glove turn indicator to his moving wagon. 17. Stop towards the north end of Cosmo at the back of the buildings that face Hollywood Boulevard. The back of the Markham Building to your left (west) served as the employee entrance to the De Vore Department Store where Harold Lloyd worked in Safety Last!, and the back corner of the Palmer Building on your right appears during an establishing shot of Harold’s old friend the policeman. Bill Strother climbs down a fire escape on the east side of the Markham Building later in the film (its top floor and the fire escape have since been removed). The back corner of the Markham is also where Harold convinces Bill into knocking over policeman Noah Young. This same corner also appears behind Harold and Mildred Davis as they run off for the concluding shot of Never Weaken. 18. Looking down the alley to the west is Keaton’s point of view when running towards Cahuenga to grab a passing car one‐handed in Cops. This view also appears in Keaton’s short Neighbors. 19. The west end of the parking lot is where Charlie Chaplin discovers the abandoned infant that he would make his son in The Kid (1921). The back end and corner of the two story building south of the alley appear during the film. A patio dining area blocks some of the view today. 20. Continue north up Cosmo to return to Hollywood Boulevard, and turn

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left (west). Continue left (west) one block to Wilcox. The Warner Bros. Theater (now Pacific) on the NE corner opened here in 1928. The Warner Bros. radio station KFWB located here in 1930; its broadcast antennas still stand on the roof. 21. Continue west one block along Hollywood Boulevard to the NE corner of Hudson, where Lloyd filmed scenes mistaking mannequins for real people in For Heav en’s Sak e. T he Hillview Apartments on the NW corner were built in 1920. Buster Keaton’s first Walk of Fame Star, for motion pictures, is located a block west from Hudson at 6631 Hollywood Boulevard.

Grauman’s Egyptian Theater, built in 1922, was the scene of many famous silent film premiers.

22. Continue west two blocks past Cherokee to the historic Musso and Frank Grill at 6667 Hollywood Boulevard. During Keaton’s Cops, an anarchist tosses a bomb from the roof of this building, which Buster uses to light his cigarette. At the time Keaton filmed in 1922, the restaurant was housed in the smaller building next door, at 6669 Hollywood Boulevard. 23. Continue west past Las Palmas to the Egyptian Theater at 6712 Hollywood Boulevard, built in 1922. Harry Langdon and Vernon Dent drive past the Egyptian during His Wedding Wow. Lloyd filmed scenes from Never Weaken in the doorway of the Pig ’n Whistle restaurant site due west of the theater forecourt, as he tries to unload a semi‐conscious man while under the gaze of a suspicious cop. At the time the iconic restaurant site (first opened in 1927) was a men’s clothing shop. Lloyd also filmed scenes at the SE corner of Hollywood Boulevard and McCadden Place beside the former Citizens Trust and Savings Bank, now home to a mini‐market. The iconic Hotel Christie Building at the SW corner of McCadden Place, now a

Scientology Center, opened in 1927, long after Lloyd filmed at the spot. Charlie Chaplin’s Walk of Fame Star for motion pictures is located at 6751 Hollywood Boulevard, near the NW corner of McCadden Place. 24. Continue west half a block to the Hollywood Guinness World Records Museum at 6764 Hollywood Boulevard located in the former Hollywood Theater building, built in 1913. Here, Lloyd filmed one of his few surviving Lonesome Luke comedies Luke’s Movie Muddle (1916). 25. Continue west down Hollywood Boulevard, past the Hollywood and Highland Center, former site of the Hollywood Hotel (1903‐1956), where Chaplin filmed scenes from Tillie’s Punctured Romance, and where many other comedies were filmed, including Harry Langdon’s His New Mamma (1924). 26. Continue west to the Hollywood Masonic Temple, built in 1923, and current home to Jimmy Kimmel Live!, where you’ll find Harold Lloyd’s second Walk of Fame Star, for live theater. Next door, further west, are the storefronts at 6904 and 6908 Hollywood Boulevard, part of the Mary Moll Building that appear behind

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Buster Keaton during the dream‐within‐a‐ movie sequence in Sherlock Jr. (1924).

A partments, an iconic Hollywood residential hotel.

27. Continue west to Grauman’s Chinese Theater, across the street, built in 1927. Stop in the forecourt to see Harold Lloyd’s cement castings during a ceremony held November 21, 1927, only the fourth ceremony in history, following ceremonies held earlier that year for Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks (as a couple), Norma Talmadge, and Norma Shearer. Notice how the thumb and forefinger of Harold’s right handprint do not leave a deep impression, as Lloyd had lost part of his right hand in an accident in 1919. Audiences were generally unaware of Lloyd’s injury, as he wore a tight fitting glove over a prosthetic thumb and finger when filming. Harold’s first leading lady Bebe Daniels was the 12th inductee at Grauman’s; her prints were made May 13, 1929.

30. During a tracking shot from Buster Keaton’s Go West, filmed moving east to west, and looking due south at the storefronts, Buster runs from 7028 Hollywood Boulevard, at the west edge of the Garden Court Garage, towards the newly constructed (extant) Rehbein Building, 7046 Hollywood Boulevard, at the corner of Sycamore, while wearing a devil costume to induce a wayward herd of cattle to follow him. During this shot you can clearly see the prominent white front steps, and sidewalk palm trees, of the former Garden Court Apartments across the street reflected in the store windows. On the film’s Blu‐ray you can read the REHBEIN name over the recessed building entryway, and the awning for Kress Drug Co., 7048 Hollywood Boulevard, situated on the corner.

28. Across from Grauman’s Chinese, on the south side of the street, marks the approximate spot in Girl Shy where a motorcycle cop first signals Harold to pull over for speeding. During the scene, the palms trees on the SW corner of Orange Drive behind Harold mark the residential front lawn of Hollywood benefactor Mary Moll, the future site for the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel (built in 1927) that stands there now. The Johnny Grant Building appears in the back during the shot.

31. Lloyd filmed scenes from Girl Shy getting a traffic ticket on Hollywood Boulevard west of Sycamore Avenue. During the sequence, the car is pulled to the north curb of Hollywood Boulevard, while facing west, and yet is shown being ticketed while facing east along the south curb. The extant building at 7036 Hollywood Boulevard appears prominently in these scenes, as the Rehbein Building, its tall neighbor on the SE corner of Sycamore, was not yet constructed at the time of filming.

29. Continue west past Orange Drive to 7024 Hollywood Boulevard, known today as the Johnny Grant Building, built in 1920. The building once adjoined the former Garden Court Garage to the west (replaced now with a modern parking structure), while sharing a common nine‐ arch façade. The five arches of the Grant Building remain. Lloyd’s 1921 comedy I Do begins with Harold crossing busy Hollywood Boulevard towards the Garden Court Garage, which stood across the street from the former Garden Court

32. Continue west to the small traffic island at the intersection of Hollywood B o u l eva rd , L a B re a Ave nu e, a n d Marshfield Way. Here, Buster Keaton built a front door/bank vault set for a gag in Sherlock Jr. 33. Turn left (south) down La Brea, two blocks until Sunset Boulevard, and turn right (west). Travel west six blocks to the NW corner of Vista Street and Sunset. Lloyd filmed a car chase scene here in Girl Shy. The corner appears in the foreground

The Silent Film Quarterly・!28 of the shot, while the extant Sunset Building, at 7441 Sunset Boulevard further west down the street, appears in the background. 34. Continue west half a block along Sunset to the SW corner of Vista Street. Lloyd filmed later scenes in Girl Shy of him racing a motorcycle east down Sunset. Again, the Sunset Building, at 7441 Sunset, appears in the background. 35. Continue further west to about the Valdez Guitar Shop at 7420 Sunset. From in front of this shop, in Never Weaken, Lloyd tethers a semi‐conscious man to the back of an ice wagon, who staggers west down Sunset towards the intersection with Gardner Street. The round arched doorway at 7507 Sunset Boulevard across the street appears in the background. 36. Continue west along Sunset, past Gardner, near to the mailbox store at 7510 Sunset. From here, Lloyd filmed scenes from Never Weaken on the sidewalk with a bum and a cop; again, the doorway of 7507 Sunset across the street appears in the background.

37. Continue west along Sunset to the corner of Sierra Bonita Avenue, where Lloyd filmed scenes from two feature films. In Girl Shy, Lloyd attempts to hitch a ride with a car that is being towed away west down Sunset from the NE corner, and in Hot Water, Lloyd attempts to board a trolley car loaded down with groceries and a live turkey. 38. Turn around, and travel east several blocks down Sunset back towards Detroit. At this intersection Buster Keaton filmed scenes from Cops as Big Joe Roberts leans out from a taxi to retrieve his wallet, sans cash, from Buster’s hand. The apartment at the SE corner appeared in the movie, but was demolished in 2013. 39. Travel east one block further down Sunset to N. La Brea and turn right (south). The former Charlie Chaplin Studios, now home to the Jim Henson Company, stands at 1416 N. La Brea. A replica of Chaplin’s footprints and signature are set in the sidewalk by the front door next to the gate. The tower on the south side of the entrance gate appears during a wedding witnessed by Edna Purviance in The Kid (1921) that was later cut by Chaplin from the film, and briefly during a scene in A Woman of Paris (1923).

The Charlie Chaplin Studios on La Brea now serve as the Jim Henson Studios. A statue of Kermit dressed as the Tramp graces the top of the main gate.

40. Continue south down La Brea to the corner of De L o n g p r e Ave n u e. C h a p l i n’s s t u d i o office stands on the N E c o r n e r, a n d appears in his 1919 film A Day’s Pleasure. Chaplin’s office back porch also appears as a hospital in the 1925 Lloyd Hamilton comedy The Movies, directed by Roscoe Arbuckle.

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. Goldwyn Studios, it is today known simply as “The Lot.”

43. Turn around, and travel east back along Santa Monica Boulevard. Go past La Brea, and continue for six blocks or so to N. Las Palmas. The Hollywood Metropolitan Studios on the right, still in use today as the Hollywood Center Studios, is where Lloyd began independent production of his feature films starting with Girl Shy in 1924. Ke at o n ro d e p a s t t h e lumberyard across the street from the studio, at 6669 Buster Keaton produced films at his own studio between Santa Monica Boulevard, in 1920 and 1928. Day Dreams, while attempting to board the back of a trolley c a r. The back of the 41. Across from the studio, a bit west Metropolitan Studios appears during down De Longpre from the NW corner of scenes of a runaway horse, filmed looking La Brea, stood a row of quaint bungalows north from Melrose, in Keaton’s 1922 (now lost) that appeared during scenes in comedy The Blacksmith. Chaplin’s Pay Day (1922), as Charlie’s harridan spouse demands his wages, and 44. Continue east along Santa Monica Charlie slyly steals the money back from Boulevard six blocks or so until Lillian Way. her purse. Turn right (south) one block. The former Buster Keaton Studio (1920‐1928) stood on 42. Continue south down La Brea to the SW corner of Eleanor and Lillian Way. Santa Monica Boulevard, and turn right Charlie Chaplin filmed his Mutual Studios (west) for three blocks to the NE corner of series of comedies between 1916‐1917 at Poinsettia Place. Harold filmed a scene the same small studio site. A sidewalk here from Movie Crazy (1932), where he plaque commemorating the Keaton Studio loses a jewelry pin in a peanut cart, across (but without mentioning Chaplin also the street from the United Artists Studios. filming there), sits on the NW corner of An arched doorway to the studio offices, Eleanor and Lillian Way, the wrong side of now closed off, but still bearing a United the street! Keaton filmed dozens of scenes Artists emblem on top, appears behind adjacent to his studio, many of which are Harold during the scene. Also, during explained in Silent Echoes, including, for Keaton’s feature Seven Chances (1925), example, the prison set from Convict 13, the Buster flees a mob of jilted brides by tenement set from Neighbors, and the running east down Santa Monica from collapsing house in The Boat, all situated at Poinsettia Place to For mosa. The the NE corner of Cahuenga and Romaine. Hollywood studio backlot sequences from The former Metro Studios, later merged Movie Crazy where also filmed at United into M‐G‐M, were located due south of the Artists. Later known as the Samuel Keaton Studios.

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48. Continue east down Santa Monica a half block to the corner of Oxford Avenue. In Speedy (1928), Harold filmed scenes where he commandeers a pair of horses to give his trolley wagon a tow. The apartment at the NW corner of Flemish Lane, and the apartment across from Oxford Avenue (both built in 1925), appear in the background of these shots. The shops along the south side of Santa Monica Boulevard, west from the corner of Oxford, can also be glimpsed during the sequence. Bebe Daniels interred in one of Hollywood Forever’s columbaria. Numerous other silent stars are laid to rest nearby.

45. Return to Santa Monica Boulevard and Cahuenga. The storage warehouse on the SE corner appears during a scene in Keaton’s Go West, as firemen prepare their hoses to spray a stampede of cattle. The back of the clock tower on this building appears during scenes in Keaton’s short film The Balloonatic (1923). 46. Continue east down Santa Monica Boulevard, past the Hollywood Forever Memorial Park, where Lloyd’s former leading lady Bebe Daniels is laid to rest, along with hundreds of Hollywood luminaries including Cecil B. DeMille, D o u g l a s Fa i r b a n k s, a n d Ru d o l p h Valentino. 47. Continue east down Santa Monica seven blocks or so, to Western Avenue. Harold steers his baby buggy loaded with booze past a traffic cop standing in the intersection of Santa Monica Boulevard and Western Avenue. The intersection also appears in Buster Keaton’s 1921 short The Goat. Facing west, the NW corner of Western and Santa Monica also appears during Keaton’s motorcycle ride in Sherlock Jr.

49. Continue east down Santa Monica about nine blocks to Edgemont, and turn left (north). Continue two blocks to Fountain Avenue. The building at the SW corner of Fountain and Edgemont appears during Lloyd’s family drive in Hot Water, and during the Harry Langdon short Saturday Afternoon (1926). The apartment west of the intersection, at 4914 Fountain Avenue, also appears during Hot Water. This concludes the Hollywood Silent Echoes tour. ・・・ John Bengtson’s three books, Silent Echoes, Silent Traces, and Silent Visions are all available through Amazon and other retailers. Each contains hundreds of images—both original film stills and modern photos—that help bring silent films to life in a way that few other books can. Additionally, Bengtson’s frequently-updated blog, silentlocations.wordpress.com, features locations not included in his books, as well as information on his upcoming lectures. ・・・ The map included on the previous page shows the approximate locations of the 49 sites included in Bengtson’s tour. Completing the entire tour would involve walking more than eight miles; it is recommend that either certain long stretches be driven, or the walking tour be broken down into several shorter segments.

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Sally Phipps at about age four (ca. 1915).

Sally Phipps at Essanay: A Silent Star Begins Her Career by her son, Robert L. Harned Sally Phipps is remembered as the beautiful, vivacious, young star of the late 1920s who appeared in over 20 silent films at Fox Film studio, including features and two-reel comedies. She actually began her film career, however, as a three-year-old actress at the Niles, California, branch of the Essanay Film Company, which was headquartered in Chicago. Niles is now a suburb of Fremont, California, in southeast San Francisco Bay. Today, there is a Niles Essanay Silent Film Museum, which shows silent films throughout the year. Sally was born on May 25, 1911 in Oakland, California, and was named Nellie Bernice Bogdon. When she was not quite two years old, she was placed in the foster care of Warren and Eva Sawyer. The marriage of Sally’s father, Albert E. Bogdon, then a 22-year-old itinerant

Sally Phipps in 1927.

magician, and her mother, Edithe Alois Lane, the 21-year-old adopted daughter of a prominent Oakland family, had fallen apart, and they separated and eventually divorced. Edithe needed to work, so she agreed to have Sally live with the Sawyers, who were her neighbors in Oakland. ・・・ FOSTER PARENTS–THE SAWYERS Warren Sawyer worked on the stage crew at the Orpheum and Ye Liberty Theaters in downtown Oakland. He was also a set designer, prop man, and sometime actor at the Niles Essanay film studio. Eva Sawyer was an actress with Essanay, where Charlie Chaplin worked for a short time in 1915. Sally even remembered sitting on Chaplin’s lap several times while she was staying in Niles with her foster parents. Sally had developed into an extraordinarily beautiful and good-natured little girl whose hair had grown out to a lovely shade of red. The Sawyers wasted no time in exploiting her. They began

The Silent Film Quarterly・!33 entering her into local baby beauty contests. On April 1, 1913, when Sally was 22 months old, there appeared in the Oakland Tribune (page 10), the following newspaper article, “’Mother Goose’ Baby Show To Be Attractive Church Entertainment.” It was an announcement of a children’s entertainment day to be held on Friday, April 4, which was to have a beautiful baby contest in the afternoon and a theatrical program in the evening. In addition to picturing eight of the adult female participants involved in the day-long entertainment, Sally was pictured right in the center, in a charming oval frame showing her head and shoulders resting on her little hands. In the article, she is referred to as “Bernice Bogdon.” The Sawyers had dropped Sally’s first name, “Nellie,” and were using “Bernice Bogdon” as her billing. She was also listed in the article as a young miss “who will take part in the program for the evening.” Sally won the first prize ribbon in the beautiful baby contest that evening. Four months later, Sally appeared again in the Oakland Tribune, August 17 (page 39), in connection with another baby contest. This time she is referred to as Nellie Bogden (with an incorrect spelling of her last name): Pretty Infant Is Prize-Winner *** Baby Show Carnival Feature *** Elmhurst, Aug. 16.—Nellie Bogden, a winsome two-year-old girl of East Oakland, was first-prize winner in the baby show held in Redman’s Hall yesterday in connection with the Elmhurst fair and carnival. Nellie carried off the honors in the face of stiff opposition from other pretty children, for Elmhurst boasts many babies eligible for prizes for beauty, chubbiness, prettiness and other commendable qualities in babydom. A sweet expression and pretty face probably won over the hearts and the judgment of the baby show arbiters in Nellie’s favor. Elmhurst babies

figured high in the prize list at the show, for which there was a large entry. The article is accompanied by a photograph of baby Sally’s head and shoulders, with her hands folded neatly in front of her as she gazes gently downward. On December 27, 1913, again in the Oakland Tribune (page 2), under the heading “Oakland Boys And Girls”, there is a feature article about Sally, with the same photograph as in the August 17th article, and with the same incorrect spelling of her name: Is Much Admired Child Of Beauty: NELLIE BOGDEN Nellie Bogden of East Oakland, a child about three years, has perhaps attracted more attention on this side of the Bay than any other tot of her size and age. She had been admired in baby shows, where she carried off prizes because of her beauty. Nellie is a brunette and is a delightful child. ・・・ SALLY AT ESSANAY FILM COMPANY In mid-1914, the Essanay Film Company, where both Sawyers worked, needed a little girl to act in several of its two-reel westerns. They were being filmed in the Niles studio, which had been producing films there since April 1912. The Sawyers suggested using Sally, who was still living with them as their foster child. She was hired. From the very start of her professional career, Sally was publicized with different names. She was born Nellie Bernice Bogdon, but she was first billed as “Bernice” Bogdon. A few months later, the billing went back to Nellie Bogden; Bogden with an “en” ending rather than “on,” a frequently used incorrect variation. (Her father and mother encountered the same problem.) Rather than using her real name in the film credits, the Sawyers and the s t u d i o d ev i s e d “ B e r n i c e S aw ye r, ” combining her middle name with her foster

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Albert E. Bogdon, Sally’s father, and Edithe Alois Lane, Sally’s mother.

Sally’s appearances in the Oakland Tribune, both April of 1913 (left) and August of 1913 (right).

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parents’ last name. By age three, she had already been given four names. For the rest of Sally’s life, she would deal with many different variations of her name, both professionally and personally. In fact, she was not given the name Sally Phipps by Fox Film studio until October 1926, when she was already 15. People who knew her after that called her “Sally,” but her mother and grandmother continued to call her “Nellie.” ・・・ BRONCHO BILLY FILMS Sally made three Broncho Billy films at Essanay. The first was Broncho Billy and the Baby, starring an early western character played by Gilbert M. Anderson (1880-1971), whose real n a m e w a s M a x H . A ro n s o n . Anderson, as Broncho Billy, is credited with being the first western star in film history. Sally, of course, w a s t h e b a b y. L e e W i l l a r d (1873-1940) and Evelyn Selbie (1880-1950) played her parents. It was released on January 23, 1915. Two other films followed a few months later, also starring Anderson as Sally is seen with Neva West, G. M. Anderson, and Broncho Billy. They were The Western Fred Willard in these two scenes from The Western Way and The Outlaw’s Awakening. The Way (images from Technical World Magazine). Western Way co-starred Lee Willard and Hazel Applegate (1886-1959) and was released on March 20, 1915. The with a realistic portrayal of an outlaw by G. M. Outlaw’s Awakening, with Anderson as Anderson, makes this an acceptable film.” Broncho Billy, the outlaw, and Neva West The review also included a scene still (1883-1965) as his wife, was released on from the film that showed Sally as the focus March 27, 1915. of attention. Sally can also be seen in a Sally’s work at Essanay, under the scene still from The Western Way in the name Bernice Sawyer, resulted in her March 20, 1915 issue of Motography (page appearance in national film magazines. For 463). Moving Picture World mentions Bernice Broncho Billy and the Baby, the reviewer, in Sawyer in the February 6, 1915 and April the January 23, 1915 issue of Motography 10, 1915 issues in reviews for Broncho Billy (page 147), said: and the Baby (page 828) and The Outlaw’s The acting of a little child, Bernice Sawyer, Awakening (page 235). and the building of an exciting climax, together

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Stills from Broncho Billy and the Baby (top) and The Outlawâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Awakening (bottom).

The Silent Film Quarterly・!37 Sally also appeared in Technical World Magazine, June 1915, in an article titled “Bad Men of the Movies” (pages 480-484), by Harold Cary. The article is a well-illustrated career article about Gilbert M. Anderson, who originally co-formed the Essanay Film Company in 1907, created the idea of Broncho Billy as the “good bad man,” and then portrayed him in the films. Sally is pictured in two scene stills from her second Broncho Billy film, The Western Way. However, in the picture captions, she is not identified by name but only as “the little girl.” Then came a notorious stagecoach accident that ended Sally’s stint at Essanay. David Kiehn, the general manager of the Niles Essanay Silent Film Museum, in his book Broncho Billy and the Essanay Film Company (Berkeley, California: Farwell Books, 2003; pages 173-174), relates the pertinent facts: The worst accident in the Western Essanay’s history occurred on November 3, 1914, during a rehearsal for Broncho Billy’s Christmas Spirit. The coach was top-heavy with seven people on the roof; it hit a rut in the Niles Canyon road, lost its front wheels and turned over. Lila McClemmon hit the ground face first. Florence Cato and Eva Sawyer piled on top of her. Everyone involved suffered scrapes and bruises, but Eva Sawyer also dislocated her shoulder and sprained her back. A full month passed before she was able to move around on crutches. Eva Sawyer was, of course, Sally’s foster mother, and Kiehn also mentions that it took her two months to recover from the accident. Sally was on the stagecoach too, but only hurt her little finger. However, back in Oakland, the accident scared Sally’s grandmother out of her wits, and she

Sally in The Western Way.

insisted Sally be taken out of any more filming. She also decided that Sally should now come and live with her. This was certainly a solution to the family’s dilemma –Sally’s own mother, Edithe, was now working, and her foster mother, Eva Sawyer, was currently recuperating from a very bad accident. Thus, when she was four years old, Sally began a new life with her grandmother. ・・・ SALLY IN HOLLYWOOD It would be another 11 years before 15-year-old Sally would be in front of the movie cameras again, this time as a contract player for Fox Film studio with a new name assigned to her by the studio, Sally Phipps. She was unquestionably discovered by Frank Borzage, but that is a story for a future article.

Robert L. Harned is the son of Hollywood and Broadway actress Sally Phipps. He has written about her in Classic Images (March 2014). He has also published a heavily illustrated biography, Sally Phipps: Silent Film Star, as an e-book in November 2014 and as a print edition in June 2015, both available from Amazon.

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My Life – East and West: A Review of William S. Hart’s Autobiography by Dr. Joseph McAleer Several silent film stars, like Buster Keaton, Charlie Chaplin, and Marion Davies, published their autobiographies in their later years. Decades after the silent era came to a close, they were able to reflect on their pasts with a sense of nostalgia and retrospection. On the other hand there were silent stars, like Harold Lloyd, who p u b l i s h e d autobiographies during the 1920s. Nearly at the height of their fame, these books instead captured a snapshot in the lives of their authors. William S. Hart’s autobiography, My Life—East and West, falls into the later c a t e g o r y. F i r s t published in 1929, Hart had only retired from films four years earlier and was still immensely popular. In this in-depth article, historian Dr. Joseph McAleer analyzes Hart’s story, shedding light on the incredible life of one of the silent era’s greatest actors. ・・・ Without question, William Surrey Hart (1862-1946) was the biggest Western film actor of the silent era. Many of his nearly 100 two-reel shorts and longer feature films continued showing in movie houses for years. In 1915 and 1916, the

Motion Picture Herald, a Chicago-based film industry trade journal, named Hart the top moneymaker among Hollywood stars, based on receipts from exhibitors coast to coast. It was claimed that Hart’s name on a marquee, with or without the title of the film being shown, guaranteed a long line of patrons. Hart remained in the top 10 until 1921, when Douglas Fairbanks took the #1 spot. Hart’s achievements as a film actor are all the more remarkable when one considers that this was his second successful career. Reading his a u t o b i o g r a p h y, published in 1929 when Hart had retired to the tranquility of his beloved ranch, is a reminder that Hart was an acclaimed stage actor for nearly two decades before his looked into his first movie camera. My Life—East and West is a homey, selfconscious memoir. Accustomed to the harsh glare of the spotlight, Hart is anxious to tell his life story on his own ter ms and set the record straight. It’s not an objective account–by their nature, autobiographies rarely are–but it is at times heart-warming and endearing, a portrait of a life forged by hardship and loss, but strengthened by the enduring bonds of family and friendship. It’s also a fascinating behind-the-scenes glimpse of moviemaking at the very beginning, of maverick producers and battles over salaries.

The Silent Film Quarterly・!39 The story begins at the beginning–and it may surprise readers that Hart was born not in the Wild West but in Newburgh, NY, up the Hudson River from New York City. His father was a “miller,” a worker in a sawmill or flour mill. Steady jobs did not exist, and he gradually moved his growing family West in search of employment. Life lessons abounded for the young Hart. In Aurora, IL, Hart remembers an incident with his sister, Mary, while crossing a bridge on a bitter cold day. “My sister and I, for some reason that could be known only to children, put our tongues on the iron railing. It was a long time ago, but the memory is still fresh, and I warn all little boys and girls never to try it. It took the entire police force of Aurora to get us loose …I can almost feel the swollen tongue.” In Wisconsin, Hart’s baby brother dies–the first of several siblings to perish. His grieving parents offer a lesson in faith that Hart carried with him. “My experience in life has been that whenever in trouble all those who have been brought up to respect religion or religious faith will instinctively search out some little church of their childhood recollection, and under its roof, even in a far, far-off way, feel the soothing presence of a Creator,” Hart recalls. In this case, it was a bluff overlooking the Mississippi River, where “a tiny boy child, that had scarcely commenced to live, was laid in earth’s arms to sleep.” On to Kansas, and Hart learns to ride horses. These were halcyon days, carefree but also filled with knowledge. He befriends the local Sioux Indians. A lifelong respect for the native people and their culture is forged. In fact, throughout the book Hart condemns the mistreatment of Indians by society. “To those who claim superiority of race–the white over the red– physically, mentally, spiritually, or morally, I can only say, ‘Arrant drivel,’” Hart writes. “I respect my Government; I am an American–top-sides, bottom, and through my body from every angle! I am for

America to my last breath–but so is an American Indian!” Before long Hart’s mother falls ill, and must return East for treatment. Hart is sent with her and the children, while Father heads Northwest for work. Hart is crestfallen; “We never did go back to see that Western sun set in silence. It was the end.” Eventually the family is reunited, and settles in New York City. Hart is naturally athletic and hones his skills as a runner and boxer. He also dreams about his future. “I never had but two ambitions,” Hart writes. “One, to go to West Point; the other, to go on the stage.” His Father discouraged the military idea as his son lacked education. As to the stage, even Hart himself wondered where that notion came from. “The stage idea just came, always remained, and will be with me when the final curtain is rung down.” Hart’s Father was supportive, but said his son needed refinement after his somewhat wild upbringing on the prairie. “I was not uncouth; I was gentle in manner; but I was strange,” Hart admits, “and all the rough corners would have to be rubbed off and smoothed down by education and cultured surroundings before I could ever hope to become an actor.” Two trips to England did not do the trick, so Hart found an acting coach in New York. He made his debut in Newburgh, the city of his birth, with roles in two plays, “Romeo and Juliet” for the matinee, and “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” at night. The acting bug hooked Hart, and soon he was traveling across the country, learning his craft, earning a meager salary of $12 a week. But given his height and demeanor, Hart had the makings of a leading man and usually played the hero. In the play “The Great Northwest,” Hart was the talk of Broadway for one dramatic scene. A prairie fire was depicted on stage, using real flames, and Hart, astride a large mare, leapt over the fire, man and beast

The Silent Film Quarterly・!40 coming to a crashing halt just feet from the audience. It was a forerunner of his famous film stunts – although, in this unfortunate case, the horse died. In 1897, at the age of 25, Hart had his first starring role as “The Man in the Iron Mask.” Playing the parts of twin brothers, he was a smash. The critic in The New York Journal raved, “I don’t want to swell Mr. Hart’s head or mar his career at its start, but I venture to say that here is a young actor who is cut out for a romantic star.” Indeed he was: the success led to his greatest stage role, as Messala in an epic 1900 Broadway adaptation of Ben-Hur: A Tale of the Christ. Hart performed all his own stunts, driving a team of horses from his chariot onstage, weaving in and out of 85 dancing girls. His performance, as the boyhood friend and eventual rival of Judah Ben-Hur, was praised by the novel’s author, General Lew Wallace. “Young man,” Wallace wrote, “I want to thank you for giving me the Messala that I drew in my book.” Hart reprised the role in a 15minute silent film made in 1907, directed by Sidney Olcott. But Hart learned the hard way that fame could be fickle – and fleeting. Success in one play did not guarantee the next big role, and to make ends meet, Hart supplemented his income by doing vaudeville shows, often performing with dogs and horses. Between performances in Cleveland, OH, in 1913, Hart went to see a Western picture–and had an epiphany: It was awful! I talked with the manager of the theater and he told me it was one of the best Westerns he had ever had. None of the impossibilities or libels on the West meant anything to him – it was drawing the crowds. The fact that the sheriff was dressed and characterized as a sort of cross between a Wisconsin wood-chopper and a Gloucester fisherman was unknown to him. I did not seek to enlighten him. I was seeking information. In fact, I was so sure that I had made a big discovery that I was frightened

that some one would read my mind and find it out. “I was an actor and I knew the West,” Hart concluded. “The opportunity that I had been waiting for years to come was knocking at my door.” As fate would have it, Hart’s current play, “The Trail of the Lonesome Pine” (made into a 1916 silent film by Cecil B. DeMille), went on the road to California. In Los Angeles Hart made some inquiries, and arranged a meeting with Thomas Ince at his camp (nicknamed “Inceville”) near Santa Monica. “I told Tom of my hopes, my plans,” Hart recalls. “I told him everything.” “Bill,” he said, “it’s a damn shame, but you’re too late! The country has been flooded with Western pictures. They are the cheapest pictures to make and every company out here has made them. You simply cannot sell a Western picture at any price. They are a drug on the market.” And to prove his statement, he showed me all the sets they were photographing on. The scenes were all laid in Ireland. As he was leaving Inceville, Hart approached some Sioux Indian extras and spoke in their native tongue. Ince was amazed–and had a change of heart (no pun intended). Hart’s first picture with Ince was His Hour of Manhood (1914), a two-reeler directed by Tom Chatterton, who also played the hero. Clara Williams was his love interest, and Hart played the villain. “Chatterton was and is a clever actor, but he had never directed a picture!” Hart recalls. “I did as I was told, but I felt terrible, and when I saw the rushes on the screen, I knew I was terrible.” The same cast immediately shot another film, Jim Cameron’s Wife. Distressed, Hart went to Ince, who asked him to complete an unfinished script for another two-reel Western. Hart did so, and it became his breakthrough picture,

The Silent Film Quarterly・!41 The Bargain, directed by Reginald Barker. Hart rode five horses in the film, including his favorite steed “Midnight,” who weighed 1,200 pounds. Some scenes were shot on location at the Grand Canyon. Ince teamed Hart and Midnight again in the next picture, On the Midnight Stage. But given the expenses incurred by production of these two films, Ince could not offer Hart a contract as an actor. Instead, he offered a year’s contract as a director. Hart turned him down, and returned to New York. “I have devoted too many years to acting to quit now,” he told Ince. Needless to say, once The Bargain became a smash hit and was purchased for distribution by the Famous Players Film Company (later Paramount Pictures), Ince telegrammed Hart and practically begged him to return: “Can offer you one-twentyfive per week as a star. One-year contract. You to direct your own pictures. Wire answer. Tom.” “It had come!” Hart proclaimed. Thus began his career as one of the most successful actor-directors in film history. By spring of 1915 Hart had made more than 20 two-reel pictures for Ince. His new co-star was a pinto (brown and white) horse named Fritz. Fritz was a trouper, gamely pretending to be shot at full gallop, horse and rider falling in a

William S. Hart and Fritz.

graceful heap. The realism of their dangerous stunts, which also included crashing through windows, thrilled audiences. “I threw that little painted pony in almost every picture I used him in, and I am thankful that he escaped injury,” Hart said. Fritz was one of the first movie horses to become famous and identified with its rider, as were Tom Mix with “Tony” and Roy Rogers with “Trigger.” At this time Ince partnered with D.W. Griffith and Mack Sennett to form The Triangle Motion Picture Company, with an eye on making feature-length films that would sell two-dollar tickets. Hart recalled the overnight influx of talent from New York: “It rained stars, like hailstones.” Among these were Douglas Fairbanks, Eddie Foy, and Billie Burke. Fairbanks and Hart were the two biggest stars on the new Culver City studio lot, and their new films, The Lamb and The Disciple, respectively, opened together in New York in 1915. Both were smash hits, and the actors became good friends, despite their discrepancy in salaries. Fairbanks was earning a whopping $2,200 a week, compared to Hart’s measly $125. Ince doubled Hart’s salary to $250 a week, with a $50 a week bonus, and Hart seemed content. (Bear in mind that the average annual income in 1915 was around $690.) As director and actor, Hart provides insight into the cost of movie-making at this time. The Disciple cost $8,000 to produce in 1915, or about $185,000 in today’s dollars. As Hart explained: The story, written by S. Barrett McCormick, cost $75; star and director (myself), $125 per week; co-director (Cliff Smith), $30 per week; leading lady (Dorothy Dalton), $40 per week; leading heavy man (Robert McKim), $25 per week; the average cowboy actors that worked in the picture received $5 per week and board; the top hands received $6 and $8, and the foreman of

The Silent Film Quarterly・!42 the cowboys drew down $10. As a director, Hart gave a number of actors their big breaks. In The Apostle of Ve n g e a n c e ( 1 9 1 6 ) , H a r t p l a y e d a mountaineer clergyman. Against Ince’s wishes, he cast an unknown actor in the key role of his brother. Outdoor filming in freezing conditions nearly broke the actor’s spirit. “He was actually shedding tears from the cold,” Hart recalled. He told the young man to “lock his teeth” and persevere. He did; the film was a hit–and the young actor’s name was John Gilbert. For Riddle Gawne (1918), Hart admired an actor in a Universal picture who played the heavy. The studio objected, saying the actor had a strong face but was too short to play opposite Hart. Nonetheless, Hart asked to see him. “I didn’t think you were as tall as you are,” the actor said. “They told me I wouldn’t do, that I was too short.” Hart replied, “Inches never made an actor. You’re an actor. You get the part.” The actor’s name was Lon Chaney. Hart was a huge star now, and offers were pouring in. He eventually broke with Ince over his small salary, signing a contract with the Lasky Studio for 16 pictures with a guarantee of $150,000 for each picture. Before leaving Ince, Hart negotiated to buy Fritz for $42,500, ensuring the dynamic duo would stay together. In his spare time, Hart took up writing stories for boys, many featuring a horse like Fritz (some, in fact, were “written” by Fritz). The first of 11 books, Pinto Ben and Other Stories, was published in 1919. In 1917, after the United States entered World War II, Hart joined Mary Pickford, Douglas Fairbanks, and Charlie Chaplin on “Liberty Loan” tours across the country, persuading the public to support the war effort. “We sold millions and millions of bonds,” he recalled. T he camaraderie of the star s continued after the war. In January 1919, Hart was invited to Pickford’s home for

top-secret talks with her, Fairbanks, Chaplin, and D. W. Griffith on the formation of their own distribution company, “United Artists.” It is an indication of Hart’s success and power in Hollywood that he would be invited to the table. Over numerous “family meetings,” Hart reveals that the mastermind behind the negotiations was not Mary Pickford but her mother. “Mrs. Pickford pointed out the many dangerous shoals that might have wrecked the ship,” Hart recalled. “When all the big attorneys…got into the game, the arguments and opinions of Mrs. Pickford carried weight and were listened to with much profit.” Rumors were flying in Hollywood over the scheme, and the group kept tongues wagging by dining in public at the A l e x a n d r i a H o t e l . “A l l o f t h e representatives of the big distributing

Hart supporting the Fourth Liberty Loan during World War I.

The Silent Film Quarterly・!43 companies were in town,” Hart writes. “They knew something was in the wind and they were all seeking information. Golly! They got it! Mary, Charlie, Doug, Griffith, Mrs. Pickford, and Bill Hart all dining together! What fun we all had!” But it was not meant to be. Trouble was, Hart was not as wealthy as his wouldbe partners, and was unable to pledge his $125,000 share of the $500,000 needed to form the company. The others offered to pitch in and reduce his share, but Hart would not accept charity. “This fine offer I promptly refused, stating as the reason, that I refused to eat any of the cake if I didn’t pay for my slice,” Hart says. “I bade them all an affectionate good-bye and withdrew.”

The Toll Gate (1920) was one of Hart’s most popular feature films, but it nearly killed him and Fritz. On location in Sonora, CA, near Yosemite National Park, Hart found an ideal spot for his “bandit cave”: a cavern with a swift-running stream that tunneled right through a mountain. Hart, astride Fritz, led a party of nine riders into the cavern, the camera following the progress at water level. Keen-eyed viewers of The Toll Gate can see what happened next. A bottomless whirlpool trapped Fritz, who struggled to stay afloat. “Twice we went down in those cold, swirling depths and twice we fought our way to the surface again,” Hart recalled in his usual breathless prose. “I knew the next time would be the last. Fritz spoke to me–I

Rudolph Valentino, William S. Hart, and Douglas Fairbanks in 1925.

The Silent Film Quarterly・!44 know he did. I heard him, and I spoke to him. I said, ‘God help us, Fritz.’ And God did help us!” The life-and-death struggle was captured on film and remained in the final picture. By the time he made Singer Jim McKee (1924), Hart had come to his senses. The climactic scene called for the escaping bandit (Hart), galloping on the edge of a cliff, to be shot dead, with horse and rider falling to the canyon below. The drop was 150 feet. “I knew the little horse could do it, but there was the fear that I knew I had of injuring him,” Hart recalled. “I knew I could not do him justice and help him as I should. I weakened.” Lucky for Fritz. The solution was a mechanical horse crafted at the Lasky Studios, a near-replica of Fritz that cost $2,000 to build. For the scene, Hart rode Fritz at full gallop and threw him down to the cliff edge. Enter the dummy horse, and trip wires did the rest of the work. Spliced together, the effect was sensational: The result was such an astounding illusion that I had to go before the board of censors in New York City and tell them my story before they would consent to this scene being shown on the screen. They were positive it was a living horse and a living man that rolled to the bottom of the canyon. The man was alive, but he didn’t breathe much. I was shaken up quite a bit; but we never take such scenes until the end of a picture. The censors kept faith. No one ever knew. United Artists distributed Hart’s last and perhaps finest film, Tumbleweeds (1925). At $312,000, it was Hart’s most expensive film, with hundreds of extras used in the dramatic mad dash scene of homesteaders racing to claim land in Oklahoma’s Cherokee Strip. Unfortunately, United Artists was unable to book the picture in first-run big city theaters, thereby limiting the box-office receipts. Hart took a $50,000 loss, when he should have made a $100,000 profit. He would eventually sue United Artists for damages, although this

action is not mentioned in the book. He took solace in the fact that, four years on, Tumbleweeds was still showing. Of the 14,000 theaters in the U.S. at the time, 11,033 had played the film – more than 80 percent. “I feel quite sure that this would prove to be mighty near a record,” Hart said. For all the wonderful anecdotes about acting and filmmaking in My Life—East and West, Hart is reticent when it comes to his personal life. In four sentences he covers his brief marriage, divorce, and birth of his only child: I was married to Winifred Westover December 7, 1921. We separated May 10, 1922. Our wonderful son, William S. Hart, Jr., was born September 6, 1922. Mrs. Hart obtained a divorce on the grounds of desertion at Reno, Nevada, February 11, 1927. And that’s that. Hart was probably keen to cite “desertion” as the reason for the divorce, lest any of his fans think he cheated on his wife. In fact, Hart details two court cases in which he was falsely accused by crazed female fans, one who claimed Hart promised to marry her, the other who insisted she bore his love child. Both cases were dismissed. My Life—East and West will delight both fans of William S. Hart and those unfamiliar with his amazing life and work. No doubt readers will share Hart’s joy and contentment as, from his perch at his beloved ranch in Newhall, CA, he sings a favorite ditty, the last line of the book: “There’s a long, long trail a-winding  Into the land of my dreams.” ・・・ Joseph McAleer is an author, historian, and expect on Jack London. He has written for publications including the Wall Street Journal and has authored several books with Oxford University Press. He recently completed his next title, Call of the Atlantic: Jack London’s Publishing Odyssey Overseas, 1901-1916.

The Silent Film Quarterly・!45

My Beauty Recipe: Style Tips from 12 of the Silent Era’s Most Beautiful Stars During the course of the 1920s, a syndicated newspaper column called “My Beauty Recipe” contained interviews with the day’s leading stars about their daily routine. Here, a dozen of these column’s are collected to provide an insight into the personal lives lives of filmdom’s leading ladies. ・・・

Clara Bow

They say I have “It.” I don’t know what that is. But if I have ‘It’ it is simply the expression of genuine joy in living. I am glad to be alive. If I have good looks, I attribute them to those facts. “Little Miss Long Face” never can be good looking. Such a girl takes the joy out of life. Snap out of it, sister, and you’ll be good looking. My recipe is simply to live joyously from day to day and to keep myself in the

best possible trim. I try to carry this joyous spirit even into the most tiresome part of my work. It is very hard to keep brimming ever with joyousness at times when I have to play some sequences over and over and over again before the camera. However, I have trained myself to it, and it gets easier and easier. The first twenty years are the hardest! Your mental attitude keeps your spirit vital, and fresh air and exercise keep your health vibrant. This is my recipe, and if I have “It” this recipe is responsible. The important point about exercise is that you exercise regularly. Whatever form of exercise you choose, calisthenics or sports, keep it up regularly. I make it a point to wear the type of clothes which express my personality. Sport clothes that are smart and up to the minute are best suited to me, I believe. I like color, and wear lots of it. Of course, there are ordinary beauty methods which every girl should observe such as cleansing the skin. brushing the hair and caring for the nails. They are incidental for all of us. But how few girls have destroyed their “It” quality,by not keeping up their beauty program? Most of us fail by not keeping alive and interested in this fascinating world about us. Outlook, not inward selfconsciousness, is the secret of vital beauty.

Colleen Moore

Clara Bow in an ad from a 1927 issue of Motion Picture.

If you want to be animated, have a hobby. The vibrant, quick moving girl has to have something to stimulate her imagination, to keep her spirits at a high pitch. A hobby will do that. Personally, I know of nothing I would rather do than go perfume buying. I am interested in various new and intriguing colors, and I am greatly influenced by the delicacy or heaviness of the scent I wear. All of us, weather we are conscious of it or not, are influenced by the colors we wear. Greens make me happy. I love certain

The Silent Film Quarterly・!46 warm shades of rose and blue. Reds make me uneasy. I try to avoid them as much as possible. There are other hobbies I enjoy, especially my dolls’ house which is as complete in detail as my own home. In it are oriental rugs, real kitchen utensils and even diminutive knives and forks for the dolls to use. Everyone cannot have expensive hobbies, but each one of us can have something out of the beaten path which will stir our imagination. Secondly, the girl who would be peppy and enthusiastic and vital must not permit her mind to dwell upon unpleasant things. I don’t believe morbid subjects are good for anyone. I can’t understand girls who fill themselves with morbid stories. They are only hurting themselves. They deliberate put out the lights of pep in their faces. Lastly, the best way to keep vibrant is to make a game out of everything you do, to enter into things with a spirit of “Let’s pretend,” instead of plodding along in a humdrum way. Try it.

Greta Garbo

At the risk of being called a lazy person, I am going to say that I believe rest and relaxation are most conductive to real beauty than strenuous exercise. Exercises makes muscle—a muscular arm is never a pretty one. The strain of exercise produces lines in the face. Rest—real, complete rest —keeps them away. Exercise acts against itself when one wants to take off weight, for it only produces a large appetite. Plenty of sleep at night is, of course, vitally necessary, but rest during the daytime is also needed, and is so often neglected. Even busy girls who have only an hour for luncheon can spare fifteen minutes for absolute relaxation. Once during the day, right after luncheon, a lie down and force myself to relax completely. I keep my eyes closed. I concentrate upon making my entire body limp. I find as comfortable a position as

possible; I think of nothing. It is better not to sleep. One always feels so groggy when one wakes up. A complete rest is often better than a fitful sleep. I also believe in the water cure. Nothing in the world is better than water, both internally and externally. Cold showers tone up the skin, lukewarm baths make the skin soft, ice keeps the muscles of the face from sagging, and twelve glasses of water taken daily will keep the complexion free from blemishes. Both night and morning I wash my face in water. The skin needs this tonic, but the water is always softened so there will be no roughness. After this I use a very light cold cream. It depends upon the texture of one’s skin, of course, but I have found that heavy creams are not beneficial. In the morning I remove the cream with a soft cloth, always working upward from the chin, and then the face is ready for the powder and waterer rouge is necessary. The lighter and softer the powder the better it is for the skin, and I prefer a chamois rather than a puff. The aim of a good makeup is not to look like a makeup, so be sure the powder exactly matches the color of your skin. The rouge should also be applied to follow the line of the natural pinkness of the cheeks. To allow the rough to extend for up far up to the temples is a great mistake because it looks unnatural and becomes obvious makeup. The skin can be kept beautiful when the body is in good condition. Therefore, I believe in plenty of rest, plenty of water, the right foods, such as fresh fruit and vegetables and no worry.

Billie Dove

Vivacity does not necessarily go with beauty. Very often the woman who is too peppy tires herself until she cannot claim beauty. This is unfortunate. So it is wise for women to study themselves and to accentuate their natural characteristics until they develop a distinct individuality.

The Silent Film Quarterly・!47 Just because Mrs. Jones makes a hit with a quaint lisp is no reason why Sadie Whooziz should be a champion lisper too. But many women foolishly try to reflect others who have made a success of a particular sort of appeal. The wise woman will realize that poise and tranquillity have their rewards. I make it a point to rest certain hours of the day. And when I say rest, I do not mean sitting down or lying down and mulling all my problems around in my mind. I believe in allowing the mind to rest, too, or at least to dwell upon things that lend enchantment to this humdrum life. Dancing is a great aid to poise. I would advise every girl to study under a good teacher, for then she will learn just how to treat her body so that it works for her. Sleeping is a great boon to women who wish to have grace, charm and poise. I need eight hours of good, sound sleep to keep me fit for twenty-four hours. In resting, avoid having, too many coverlets on your bed for they tire you. Avoid sleeping in draughts, but always have the windows open at the head of your bed. The reason why health experts object of the practice of sleeping on mare than one pillow is not to prevent roundshoulders, but to allow the blood to circulate properly, which is sound sense when you think about it. Finally, poise and tranquillity must come from within. No woman may have these qualities if she lets family troubles, financial worries or poor health sap her energy. She must make heroic efforts to withstand these strains. Every woman should try to cultivate peacefulness by keeping her disposition sunny and seeking to justify and correct wrongs without working herself into a fret and thus burning up a superhuman amount of energy.

Marion Davies

Plenty of soap and water; plenty of outdoor air and exercise; plenty of

Billie Dove in a 1927 hosiery and undergarment ad.

enthusiasm and interest in some particular occupation. These things, I believe, are the foundation for beauty. No amount of cosmetics will cover up a discontented expression induced by an unhappy mental state. Nothing will take the place of soap and water, nor of good fresh air. Many people write to me asking how I keep myself in good physical trim while playing a strenuous part in a movie. During the five months was making one picture I are scarcely any meat, but a great deal of fruit. I went nowhere in the evening, but retired every night at 9 o’clock. Seven o’clock in the morning was my rising hour. After a cold bath and some setting up exercises, I took a short walks and then ate a light breakfast. In this way I kept myself perfectly the heavy demands of the rote. Incidentally, women interested in losing weight may like to know that I lost ten pounds practicing for the fencing

The Silent Film Quarterly・!48 scenes in this picture. I would recommend fencing to any woman who desires a slender, supple figure. There is nothing like enthusiasm to keep a woman young. It does not matter what calls forth your interest, whether it be crocheting, exercise or politics, just so it makes you look sparklingly alive. As for the complexion, I have found nothing better than just plain water and good, pure soap. Hot water tends to yellow the skin and make the muscles sag. Some person with very sensitive skins find soap irritating. To them I would recommend a good brand of cold cream. Experiment a little and find which kind agrees with your skin, and then stick to it. A cold cream facial bath is fine for relaxing the muscles and soothing the skin. Even though you use soap and water, you will find an occasional cold cream massage very helpful.

Pola Negri

There is nothing in the art of keeping beautiful that should interfere in any way with your daily tasks. First of all, let me spoil the theory that sleeping late in the morning is ‘beauty sleep.’ Sleeping late will give you headaches and make your eyes puffy. Don’t sleep with a pillow. There’s no surer way of bringing double chins. And it will destroy the pretty lines of your back and shoulder. Don’t drink water with your meals. it has a tendency to create flesh. Drink an hour before and an hour after meals. Maintain this schedule with scrupulous regularity. Above all, don’t experiment with massage. There is no surer way to bring wrinkles than unskilled massage. Go to an expert for this sort of thing, some one who knows just how the skin should be handled. However, massage isn’t such an important feature of beautification as some people think, and the housewife or

business woman can do well without the treatments of an expensive masseur. Don’t use water on your face; it will make it coarse. Once a week I steam my face thoroughly with hot cloths. This cares for all the blackheads and pore impurities and, in connection with the cream, will operate to keep your face clear, fresh and attractive.

Mary Pickford

Tight shoes and worry are the two worst foes to a woman’s beauty. Don’t you believe it?Lots of times you’ve seen women with that awful twisted look in their faces that comes from tight shoes. Worry does the same thing. Haven’t you often times looked up at a woman coming down the street and said, “Oh, here comes a hat,” or, “Here comes a pair of shoes”? We Americans haven’t yet learned the secret the Frenchwomen know—to dress so that the face is the chief thing. The face should be the chief thing, and there should be something there worth looking at. The one universal rule, I think, for being beautiful is feeling friendly to people. You become beautiful by this action and by its reflex action. When people say to me, “Well, how can one like every one? How can I like my neighbor?” I say to them: “If your neighbor is an older woman, think of your mother, and you will have a friendlier feeling. If she is a young woman, think of your sister.” There is really little one can say about beauty—little, I mean, that has not been said before. My recipe is quite simple—a bit old fashioned, perhaps, and if it is, hope you will forgive me for not being original. First of all, then, I believe it is necessary to establish a right line of thinking. Misshapen thoughts can not but reflect themselves upon the face. Street makeup may erase the result for a time, but not for long. I am not a prude about makeup, but I don’t think it improves a

The Silent Film Quarterly・!49 person. I would say that cleanliness of thought is even more important than cleanliness of body.

Norma Talmadge

Every week ought to be Smile Week! The old copybook phrase, “Pretty is as pretty does,” applies more to smiling than anything else. Painted cupid-bow curves count for little beside lips that curve into smiles. Not the automatic, empty smile that is proof of the solid ivory in head or teeth, nor the systematized smile that goes with, every order for real estate or tooth paste, but the genuine which binds people together in greater humanity. It is said that “soft words turneth away wrath.” A smile is equally effective for, after all, it is the pleasant thought behind either the words of the smile that reaches the wrathful one and sweeps away all rancor, just as the witch’s broom in Mother Goose rhymes swept the sky clean of cobwebs. Be smilers, girls! If you are pretty and think you do not need any other accessories of beauty, remember that a room may be beautifully furnished, but that it takes illumination to show up its attractiveness. Thus it is with your face and smiles. If you are not pretty, a smile will do more to make you so than cosmetics could ever do. There are all kinds of smiles to be sure, but they “take” a lot better than any dyestuffs do. Smiles that saw thousands of sons off to war. Smiles that are game, whether at the loss of happiness or money. Smiles that start every morning off right and every day with a blessing. There is one question I am asked more than any other, and I am going to answer it here and now for the girls. It is, “Why do movie stars seem to have more beautiful hair than other women?” They do not have more beautiful hair, they merely take better care of it. You would all be surprised to realize that even unbeautiful hair can be trained to look

extremely attractive, just as a bad-tempered person can be coaxed into good humor by human interest and affection showered upon him. One movie star I know who is noted for her beautiful hair never allows anyone to touch it but herself. She rather begrudged me the details of her shampoo, saying that no one would believe its efficiency. But I have tried her recipe and know how good it is. Here you have it: One bar of tar soap she shaves to make a liquid; one-half to be used in hot water for washing the hair, the other half to be used in rinsing it. After rinsing, when the hair is white with lather, she rubs it briskly until the lather is all out, and then dries it. She claims that our grandmothers gave this treatment satisfactorily to their fine woolen blankets, and she has found it equally beneficial to her lustrous hair.

Betty Compson

Every girl should study her style of beauty and do everything possible to enhance it. Of course, beauty comes from within as well as from the outside. But with her heart and mind attuned right, the modern girl should then turn to the many marvelous aids to beauty, which she can find on all sides. I would like to get up on the housetops and shout that I believe in makeup if it is discriminatingly applied. When I walk down the street and see women who are drab looking but who could make themselves attractive if they just lightened up their faces with a bit of color, I just want to scream. Of course, I use makeup and I think it is what brings out whatever good looks I have. The point in all this is to properly apply makeup. I admit it takes a neat amount of care. I am not a prude and I believe in effective makeup—but I do not believe in conspicuous makeup. A girl with very blonde eyebrows is certainly justified in touching them. It isn’t

The Silent Film Quarterly・!50 fair to her eyes not to! But she must be careful not to touch them one bit too much. A girl evokes the criticism “painted” when she uses rouge just one tiny shade off. Cosmetic experts can tell what shade blondes or brunettes should use and there are variations for all kinds of complexions. A girl should be sure she is getting the right kind of rouge for her complexion, and when she gets it she should very carefully apply it to her skin. There is nothing quite so terrible as the way some girls use rouge on their cheeks. It simply isn’t artistic. I don’t blame people for rising up in horror at this display. Lipstick has a psychological effect. It puts punch into your looks and it puts punch into your spirit. It gives you confidence and assurance. I don’t mean the amount that shrieks at you and is revolting. I mean the amount that, when you are feeling in the dumps and are going to be a drag, makes you respond and come quickly up to par. When you look in the mirror and

see a reflection of your face bright and alive. You are careful how you dress yourself up—be careful how you dress up your face!

Bebe Daniels

No one can be beautiful without personality. You see pretty faces with faultless features but without personality, that is not beauty, nuh uh. You think those faces are beautiful at first, but you get so tired of them and they become so unattractive that they are ugly to you. A person with poor features but with a positive personality can actually seem beautiful to you. One of my dearest friends is a girl who is considered beautiful by all who know her, yet who, to the casual acquaintance, is just a plain girl, hardly worth a second glance. When people come to know her loyalty and the unselfishness of her character she is beautiful to them. If we come right down to It we generally find that it is unfailing good humor and kindliness which win a girl her circle of admirers. I believe in p o s i t i v e personalities. I like the personality of the frank, outspoken American girl. Of course, there are some kinds of personality for which I don’t c a re. W h at I like, however, might not appeal to others. The kind of people I can’t stand and who I think are ugly are dogmatic people, people Betty Compson appears in a 1926 ad in Photoplay.

The Silent Film Quarterly・!51 who always think they are right and can’t see any one else’s viewpoint, and narrowminded people with a self-righteous air. However, I’d rather see even these personalities than no personality at all; that’s how strongly I feel about personality!

Gloria Swanson

The best way to avoid wrinkles and other marks that mar beauty is to anticipate them. Don’t wait until wrinkles come, but start rubbing them sway at the first suggestion that they are on their way. I believe in the best care for the face and body. Every woman should consult an expert who can tell her how to take care of herself, or else read regularly some reliable publication on the subject. You can’t achieve success in anything unless you work and study at it. You aren’t made in a clay. You have to learn how to groom yourself. Most women spend too much time thinking about what color drapes and cushions they should put in their bedrooms. They should tur n their bedrooms into scientific laboratories where they would study the needs of their skin. I feel that every girl should say to herself, “My face is my fortune,” and take care of it accordingly. When flappers ask me what I do for my skin, I wish I could tell them how much work I have put on it and how much care it takes. I have made a minute study of my skin, and of the various creams, oils and powders; and have endeavored to find the ones that are beet suited to my skin. Every woman should do this. The beauty aid which assists one woman is likely to prove useless, or oven harmful, to another.

Agnes Ayres

Simplicity is the keynote of beauty. The mistake most people make is that they think, in order to seem rich or up in the world, they have to overload themselves and their homes. A real sign of fineness is

simplicity. This applies not only in matters of dress, but in every phase of human life. While there are certain occasions when elaborate costumes are advisable, in most cases the woman who adopts a simplicity of style in dress and manner will approach nearer the ideal. Diamonds are me birthstone; but I wear few. I love jewelry, but realize that too much of it is the worst of offenses against good taste. I like plain shoes and straight lasts. If more women would follow this rule there would be far less work for the chiropodists. An older woman who overdresses looks ridiculous. It is far wiser to try to grow old gracefully than to try to keep young gracefully. You can’t cover up and hide the march of the years with young and gaudy display; rather you can bring out of the richness and warmth of middle and old age by giving it its due position of prominence, and not trying to detract from it with illchosen decorations. For the young girl, let me counsel again—simplicity. No girl, even in her senior year in high school, should start ‘putting up’ her hair if she is not overlarge for her years. Retain your youthfulness, with its irresistible appeal, as long as you may. It is my advice to the girl who longs to emulate her older sisters and friends and be a young lady before her time. The only time it seems excusable for a lady to dress up a lot is when she is at the marriageable age—then she seems to want to come out in all her feathers to attract a mate. I do think, though, that, even then, simplicity is the best catchword. Clothes come off, but character doesn’t. Let your own self attract. ・・・ Images appearing in this article are original advertisements from movie magazines, featuring just a few of the style icons whose beauty tips are included in this article.

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Hollywood Celebrates the Holidays: An Interview with Authors Karie Bible and Mary Mallory

Karie Bible and Mary Mallory are both well-known and respected names in the Los Angeles silent film community. Bible is the co-author of Location Filming in Los Angeles and currently serves as a tour guide at Hollywood Forever Cemetery, while Mallory blogs for the LA Daily Mirror and wrote the book Hollywoodland. Bible and Mallory have now teamed up for Hollywood Celebrates the Holidays, a new book featuring more than 200 images of actors and actresses in holiday-themed publicity photos. Ranging from the 1920s all the way through the 1970s, the book provides a fun and fanciful glimpse at many of Hollywood’s biggest stars. Silent Film Quarterly recently spoke with both authors about the silent era stars included in the book. ・・・ You’ve both written books on the early days of Hollywood before—how did you decide on this as your next project? Karie Bible: Mary and I started collecting these photos together for fun. We scoured eBay, paper shows, antique stores, spoke with collectors, etc. and decided this might make a really fun book. We realized that there hadn’t been a book like this before, which made it even more appealing. The book covers quite a long timespan—how did holiday customs in Hollywood change over the years? MM: Holidays have changed over time, particularly ones like Easter and Christmas, which were more religious decades ago. We found several stills posed as if in church services or on the way to service, taking a more reverential view of these holidays. As time went on, they became more festive and irreverent.

Decorations were more simple, but people still decorated their homes and trees at Christmas, as well as wore costumes decorated, and attended festivals for Halloween. Thanksgiving was more about celebrating the good life Americans had and giving thanks with family and friends, it wasn't about watching sports or parades or entertainment. Fourth of July was definitely more about recognizing our freedoms and our patriots, not just shooting off fireworks. Holidays like George Washington’s birthday and flag day were important, we saw photos for those, as people honored these symbols of freedom. St. Patrick’s Day and New Year’s were always periods of fun. Are there any fun stories in particular you can share? MM: The Santa Claus Lane Parade, now the Hollywood Christmas Parade, was started by the Hollywood Blvd. Business Association to lure consumers to come

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Madge Bellamy as Mary at the manger.

spend money along Hollywood Blvd. during the holiday season. It quickly jumped from one float (Santa) in 1928 to a large parade within a few years. Celebrities, marching bands, and Santa were always a big hit, but now people with short attention spans need bright lights, loud music, flash, and dash to keep them occupied. Then it was about friends and family getting together and enjoying the season, now it's just another event in people’s lives and a selling opportunity for businesses. Publicity stills carry much less weight in the digital age than they did in the print age. Can you speak to the impact that a lavish holiday-themed photo might have had on the career of a young star in the silent era? KB: Then, as now, publicity is the name of the game. Getting a prime photo placement in a movie magazine or newspaper means exposure and that exposure can translate into opportunity. As you will see in the book, many of the ladies posing for these photos were starlets or contract players who had a brief run of success for a few years and then faded away. Maintaining longevity in Hollywood is tough and very few were able to do it. Joan Crawford is perhaps the best example of someone who was savvy and understood

the system. She posed constantly for publicity stills, befriended journalists, press photographers and made the most of every possible opportunity. This PR skill combined with talent and tenacity led to her having a career that ran for about 50 years. MM: Young stars had plenty of time to shoot portraits, and files for unknowns under contract to studios often bulge with all types of photographs. These photos were employed to introduce new talent to audiences, to try and boost recognition, keep people's names and faces in front of the public, and promote movies and studios at the same time. It was sort of a quid pro quo with magazines and newspapers—studios could provide plenty of photos of cheesecake and beefcake to fill out space, while magazines and newspapers desperate for copy or images could provide plenty of free publicity opportunities. Lastly, do you each have a favorite silent era photo included in the book? KB: My favorite silent era photo in the book would have to be the Halloween picture of actress Madge Bellamy. We were very lucky and found an original print from a dealer here in Los Angeles. I love the pose, her 1920s Halloween outfit and textured background. To me, it is such a beautiful photograph. It was made by Hoover Art Studios in 1921. MM: My favorite silent still is of Madge Bellamy posed as Mary at the manger, lit in a heavenly glow by the Evans Studio. I had first seen it in a blog post, and we found that the Margaret Herrick Library possessed an original of it, donated by Bellamy herself.

Hollywood Celebrates the Holidays is out as of October, 2015 from Schiffer Publishing, with a suggested retail price of $29.99.

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Madge Bellamy in Halloween garb.

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John Bunny—Film’s 1st King of Comedy:

An Interview with Documentarian Tony Susnick

Few silent film comedians are as forgotten today as John Bunny. From 1910 to his untimely death in 1915, Bunny was one of the world’s most popular movie stars, his iconic face once being insured for $100,000. Years before Roscoe Arbuckle and Oliver Hardy, John Bunny was the original heavyset funnyman, but time has not been kind to his legacy. Fo r t u n a t e l y, a documentary is nearing completion that tells the story of this legend of early cinema. Silent Film Quarterly recently spoke t o To n y S u s n i c k , director of John Bunny: F i l m ’s 1 s t K i n g o f Comedy, to learn more about the remarkable but short-lived career of John Bunny. ・・・ Do you remember how you first became aware of John Bunny? I was fascinated with silent movies since I saw Charlie Chaplin in The Gold Rush when I was 6 or 7 years old. My mom bought me two books— Daniel Blum’s A Pictorial History of the Silent Screen and Joe Franklin’s Classics of the Silent Screen. Both books had a lot of information about Bunny. Bunny was one of the 50 bios in Franklin’s book so I knew he was important. It wasn’t until a couple of years later that I actually saw one of this films.

Bunny is considered a seminal comic figure in early cinema. Can you speak to his level of popularity at his peak? Bunny was really world famous. He was one of those rare stage actors who saw the value of the movies and did not mind to make the transition to what was regarded as a lower form of entertainment. Entering film when actors were becoming known by name instead of just an unknown actor in a stock company, Bunny’s timing was perfect. His name started appearing in the titles of his films like Bunny’s Dilemma or Bunny Buys a Harem, making his rise to fame e ve n f a s t e r. He endorsed products, from thermoses to suits to tobacco. He was also one of the first film stars to have a doll made of him. Very few people have seen Bunny’s films--can you describe his breadth of work to someone who is entirely unfamiliar with him? Bunny’s film career was less than 5 years (1910-1915) but his output was prolific with more than 150 shorts usually running around 10 minutes. His films were not slapstick or wild chases. Historian Sam Gill describes them as “Pickwikian” or “Dickensian”. Many are situational comedies usually about Bunny trying to sneak out to drink and play poker with the boys, or being henpecked (à la W.C. Fields later) by his most famous co-star Flora Finch who’s toothpick figure was the exact opposite of Bunny’s huge frame. Many times he would

The Silent Film Quarterly・!56 cross dress as woman. In fact, out of the seven films on the DVD—he cross dresses in two. I’m sure that had audiences at that time rolling on the floor. He only worked for one film company –Vitagraph in Bunny’s hometown of Brooklyn. Vitagraph was a revolutionary company in both their fi l m p r o d u c t a n d distribution system. Again, Bunny’s selection and timing was perfect to have his face known. What inspired you to make a documentary about Bunny? I like to make h i s t o r i c a l documentaries about stories that had a worldwide impact at the time but are v irtually forgotten today. I had always wanted to do a book on Bunny (which may still happen) but I realized a few years ago after more in depth research that his story was so important, a documentary film was more appropriate. What is the current production status of the documentary? I’m in post-production and have one important thing left—the person who will do the voice over for John Bunny. Bunny gave several interviews during his film career. There was enough material there that I believe I can have Bunny tell his story along with the historians that appear. I am through with historian interviews. I do all my editing and animation.

You’re including 7 of Bunny’s films with your documentary—can you describe what still exists of his filmography? Much more than people think. A lot of places on the internet state that only about 5 of his films exist which is not true. The problem is not much is available on DVD for the public to see and a lot of what is out there are poor copies are not very good representations of his work. What do you hope will be John Bunny’s legacy as people rediscover his work through your documentary? Bunny needs to be recognized for his contributions to motion pictures. His impact has been neglected for too long. Historians have not been kind to Bunny stating the films are not funny, dull and dated. (They are more than 100 years old!) His films need to be put into the context for that time. In just the past few years, one of Bunny’s film was placed on the National Film Registry as culturally historical and significant and the Museum of Modern Art even had a two night showing of Bunny’s films. Now, there will be a documentary so more people will learn about him and maybe finally Bunny will get his due. For more infor mation about Tony’s documentary, visit johnbunny.com.

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Above: The cover of Tony Susnick’s documentary. Below: A Thermos advertisement featuring Bunny.

Top: A rare photo of Bunny appearing as Teddy Roosevelt. Middle: Bunny attends a baseball game in 1913. Right: A picture of Bunny dressed in drag, as he often appeared in his films.

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A Modern-Day Mack Sennett:

An Interview with Silent Film Director Keith Picot

Keith Picot is something of a Renaissance man when it comes to silent films. He writes, produces, directs, and acts at Hek’s Half Acre Silent Film Studio, which he founded on his native Saltspring Island in Vancouver. One of the few exclusively-silent studios in operation today, Picot specializes in producing advertisements for local businesses in the style of slapstick comedies from the 1910s. Silent Film Quarterly recently caught up with Picot just as he was returning home from Germany, where he was filming his latest comedy, Hook, Line & Slacker. ・・・ Making modern silent films, particularly short comedies, is certainly not common. What inspired you to begin such a unique endeavor?

My first taste of silent film making came from a most unlikely source. About five years ago, whilst playing music on the road, I was introduced to a silent film style app on a telephone. My chum Brandon Isaak just turned around in the front seat of the bus and pointed his camera at me and I just started making up silly bits of business there in my seat, I was hooked! I bought myself a camera and—for better or for worse—away I went! I had never given much though to acting, writing, or directing pictures, it just happened like catching a cold. Four years ago my life change dramatically when at the age of 60 my dear mother Mary was taken from us by cancer. Her death shook my family to the core. I turned my attentions toward the camera and writing gags. The sadder I felt the more I felt drawn to make folks laugh! Are there any particular actors or directors you try to emulate in your work?

The Silent Film Quarterly・!59 No other comedy style tickles me like silent film slap-stick! The subtleties and exquisite timing of Chaplin, the almost cartoon-style, surrealism of Keaton and Turpin, the boyish, miniature gestures of Harry Langdon crack me up. Harold Lloyd’s fast paced antics and rapid fire gags are fantastic along with Larry Semon and Charley Chase. I am a fan of all of them and many others for their individual styles. For genuine belly laughs I go for the films of Laurel and Hardy, 1920’s and their 1930’s talkies. Nobody married the world of silent and sound like Laurel and Hardy! I think Stan Laurel and Charlie Chaplin are my biggest influences though I try to emulate neither. Apart from the occasional stolen gag, I endeavor to keep my films original, not parodies of silent comedies. I go to great extremes keep them period looking because I love that period. Today’s style of dress, architecture and automobiles just don’t look sexy to me. I adhere to my own set of rules regarding every aspect of my films. My screen character, “Lucky Douglas” is unique in the way he never navigates his way to first position. He is neither clever nor cool. He is ambitious and tries very hard. Life for Lucky is an uphill walk on a greased plank, but he is ever the optimist. How do businesses respond to having silent film advertisements made? The response of businesses at having their message sent by, and their staff immortalized in, silent film, has been fantastic. Each silent ad I’ve made has been a mutually satisfying adventure and resulted in a unique bond between myself and the business owner and their employees. I even had opportunity to cut hair for two days in “The Local Barber Shop” upon the completion of their picture, Less Bangs for Your Buck. Can you describe your process for writing scenarios, casting your films, etc.?

Often I’ll write a short film inspired by an old item I’ve found, for example I'm currently writing a picture rooted around an old speaker cover I’ve turned into a fancy hotel style post box. Another example: my wife wanted a guest house on the property so I wrote the Windsor Plywood ad around the building of a little house. Windsor loves their ad, The Dowry, and my wife loves the guest house! For ideas and development, I take very long walks through the lovely woods and along the beaches that literally surround one when they live on the Gulf Islands. I strive for better gags that will create unfettered laughter and joy in the most bitter of hearts. I often I use the same players, as is traditional, in the cast, such as Tiffany Wightman. Tiffany has been the leading lady in many of my pictures as our characters seem to really gel on and off screen. For the ad films I always use the staff, which has a strong moral boosting effect. Sometimes I'll find a character who inspires me to write a film around them. Such was the case with Ola Bukowska, the lead in my latest short picture shot in Hinsbeck, Germany, Hook, Line & Slacker. I met Ola on one of my long walks through the Ger man countr yside and was captivated by her spirited energy. Though she spoke primarily German, Polish and Russian I was able to direct her with the help of a translator and liberal use of pantomime. I write, direct, photograph, light, edit and act in all my films. It is a lot of work but in many cases it is easier for me. I enjoy every job and I know what I am after. For better or worse I can count on myself to try my hardest to get it. What projects do you have in mind for the future? Do you ever see yourself directing a feature-length silent? I have several two-reel length films in the can I have yet to release as well as a much longer film, The Operator, in the can.

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. character and the femme fatal. But if it can be done and done well—what a treat! I am currently striving to make a my comedies undeniably funny, not cute, so I’m constantly working harder at delivering better q u a l i t y, m o r e c l e v e r, scenarios and gags.

Your films seem to be inspired by some of the greats of early comedy—notably Hal Roach and Mack Sennett. Why do you think silent comedies hold up so well today?

I am half done building a full scale replica of a 1914 style, mono-wing fighter plane, for the aforementioned picture. I have several films partially shot and I plan to carry most over the finish line while others will never be seen. I have always been a fan of the hard-boiled-detective story told in the gritty Film Noir style. So much so that at age thirteen I organized and decorated my bedroom to resemble that of a Sam Spade-style P.I. office, even building a mahogany filling cabinet in shop class. I aspire to tell a gripping, hard-boiled, crime thriller with the visual beauty of the film noir genre but told in pantomime. Challenging in many ways. Noir is often narrated first person and relies on quick whited repartee between the main

In my opinion physical comedy is, and aways has been king on film. Look at any comedy today and count the visual gags. They are still there and still effective. A great example is England’s Rowan Atkinson (AKA Mr. Bean). He is mostly silent in his pictures with the occasional guttural mutter, and he makes folks crazy with laughter! “The King Of Comedy” (a fellow Canadian), Mack Sennet, once said, “The fall of dignity. Mistaken identity. Roughly every joke on the screen belongs, roughly to one or other of these clans.” To a great extent I believe this still holds true. People loved seeing Chaplin kick a policeman in the pants. Today audiences still love to see authority figures unthroned in some comedic manner. I don’t think all the silent comedies made in the teens and twenties have held-up over the years but many are just as funny today as the day they were shot. I wonder how much of today’s comedy will hold up in 90 years?

For more information about Keith Picot and Hek’s Half Acre Silent Film Studio, visit his website at www.keithpicot.com or contact him directly at keithpicot@gmail.com.

On the Cover: Esther Ralston and Richard Arlen in Figures Don’t Lie.

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IN THE NEXT ISSUE: Niles Essanay Studio, Hollywood Forever Cemetery, Lillian Gish, and much more!

The Charlie Chaplin Archives ❃ ❃ ❃ Available now from Taschen

Featuring: 900 images An oral history of Chaplin’s life AND a 12 frame strip from City Lights, cut from a 35 mm print in Chaplin’s own archives