Evening Star Newspaper, June 28, 1931, Page 85

“Lady Luck” Gave Ruth Chatterton. BY ALICE L. TILDESLEY. Oh, Lady Luck! Prepare the breaks for me! HUS runs what is said to be. Holly- wood's favorite song. And whether you believe in luck or not, the fact remains that most of those who have ‘won success in the city of stars trace Lady Luck's fingerprints on. its pattern. There's Helen Twelvetrees, for example. Helen, brought to Hollywood after a successful season on the New York stage, had been given such inappropriate roles that she asked for her release from contract. Utterly discouraged, Helen was weeping over her failure when Dorothy Ward, a player of small parts, dropped in to help her pack the trunks. ‘“You're making yourself sick,” said Dorothy. “Suppose you drive out to Pathe with me and pull yourself together. You needn't go in.” While Helen was sitting in the waiting room of the casting office, Edmund Goulding, looking for a leading lady for his picture, “The Grand Parade,” passed through. The wistful hurt that had become Helen's natural expression at the time attracted his attention. “Will you come in and take a test?” he asked. She not only got the part but a long-term starring contract! F William Haines hadn't walked down Broad- way on a certain day at a certain hour, he'd probably still be selling bonds. But he did, and Bijou Fernadez, an agent scouting for new talent for Sam Goldwyn, saw him as he swag- gered by. She turned and ran after him. “Excuse me,” said she, “but how would you like to make a movie test?” “Ha! ha!” replied Bill, in the Haines manner. But he took the test, won over some hundred other youths who had entered of their own volition, and has been working steadily for eight years. ] Miss Fernandez, in her role of Lady Luck, also saw and approved the photograph of Eleanor Boardman, then posing for hosiery advertisements. Eleanor was sent to the coast on the same train with Haines. Eleanor's contract didn't last so long as Biil's, but she drew a husband and two babies, which wasn’t 80 bad. Sometimes the break doesn’t seem a good one at the time. Maurice Chevalier thought his capture by the Germans during the World War most un- fortunate then, but during his term behind the barbed wire he met an English officer, who ex- changed lessons in English for coaching in French. Mastering another tongue enabled Maurice to enter talking pictures. Richard Arlen broke his leg, but it was a Jucky break. As a messenger boy, the future star was delivering a package at the Brunton Studios when a studio car hit his motor cycle and smashed both package and Dick. The casting director, glancing from his window, saw the accident and visited Dick at the hos- pital. In spite of being a casting director, he had a kind heart; and, learning that the boy was without funds, put Dick on the studio list for extra work that kept him busy for a year. The break that sent Warner Baxter soaring wasn't at all lucky for Raoul Walsh. Warner, discouraged with lack of work in pictures, had turned to selling automobile insurance when “In Old Arizona,” first outdoor talking picture, was cast. Raoul, the director, had cast himself in the role of the “Kid,” and was on his way to location by night when a terrified rabbit jumped through the windshield of his car. Glass from the windshield put out one of Raoul's eyes and made it impossible for him to act the role. Tests of available actors were ordered, and Warner, as a favor to Raoul, left his insurance work to make one, the result of which decided his future. Virginia Cherrill happened to be seated next to Charlie Chaplin at a dinner party when the comzdian was looking for a leading lady. Since she wasn't trying to get into pictures, that must have been Lady Luck’s doing. RS. RUDOLPH VALENTINO attended a performance at the Egyptian Theater when that house was the showplace of Holly- wood. The “Sheik” was with her. During the prologue Rudolph pointed out an exotic-looking maiden who was doing a sinuous dance. “If she could only act——" he murmured. Mrs. Valentino went to see the exotic one, who answcred to the nanf® of Myrna Loy; liked her better on close inspection, and decided to give her a chance to act in her picture. The picture was never released, but the “Sheik’s” wife’s choice was given opportunities elsewhere, and is now steadily mounting the ladder to fame. It was a cough that turned the luck for Norma Shearer. Norma and her sister were struggling along in New York, failing to get in anywhere, when word came that extra girls Warner Baxter. Norma Shearer. \ THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C. JUNE 28 1931 Richard Arlen. “Just an Accident or ““Getting the Breaks”— Call It What You Will—the Fact Remains That Many Famous Screen Stars cf Today Owe Their Success to a Fortuitous Circum- stance That Gave Them 1Their Start. Eleenor Boardman. were wanted at a Long Island studio. It took almost all their united funds to reach the studio, where they discovered that 42 girls were in the line from which two were to be chosen. “I was so nervous because the money meant so much to us that I coughed,” explains Norma. “Ths cough attracted the director's attention and he chose me. Wasn't that luck?” When Frank Borzage was in Ireland making scenes for the John McCormack picture, he hap- pened to go to a Dublin cafe called the “Silver Slipper.” At a necarby table a group of young society people were dining, among them Maureen O'Sullivan, daughter of an army officer. Now and then Mr. Borzage caught snatches of Mau- reen's delightful brogue. “There’s the girl for our picture!” he cried, in the words every girl dreams of some one saying concerning her. 'And he was right. “It's no use!” was Ruth Chatterton’s reply to Ralph Forbes' suggestion that she take a screen test. Her husband had held out the hope of a role in a Josef von Sternberg picture. Not wishing to be disagreeable, however, Ruth made the test, was found to be “not the type,” said “I told you so!” and returned to the stage. Three months later Emil Jannings watched reel after reel of tests run while he searched for an actress to fill a difficult part. Ruth’s test was the last one run—numbsred 38. It was a case of the last being first, though, and Ruth hasn't left the screen since. Nancy Carroll couldn’t get past the casting directors in Hollywood, so she settled down to be a wife to Jack Kirkland when Luck stepped in. Nancy stopped at the studio where Jack was a scenarist, to take him home to dinner, and was waiting in the lobby when Anne Nich- ols, then casting her play, “Abie’s Irish Rose,” came out droopingly. She took one look a} Nancy, the droop vanished, she muttered, “My Rose!” and clutched the girl’s arm. When Nancy was convinced that she wasn’t being kidnaped she found herself signing a dotted line. Evelyn Brent. Helen Twelvetrees. IGNORANCE of the importance of high execu- tives accounts for the lucky breaks of more than one now secure in film niches. Bill Boyd had a letter of introduction to Cecil De Mille when he landed in Hollywood. Ordinarily such a letter would have been sent by the gateman to the director’s secretary, who would have put it in the files. But Bill wheedled his way past the gateman, marched into the secretary's office when that sharpeyed person was out, saw an open door before him and walked right in to C. B. De Mille. Hls impudence amused the director, who gave him a small part in his current picture and con- tinued to give him bigger and better parts until he reached stardom. Then there’s Helen Chandler, who decided to augment her income by picture work. Accord- ingly, she hied herself to the Fox studios. A long car parked at the curb hore the initials W. F. on the door. “Willlam Fox is in!” she gloated, not know- ing that film aspirants did not see that gentle- man. A roomful of hopefuls were ahead of her. Helen noticed that those who asked for the director were sent to the assistant; those who asked for the assistant waited. So when her turn came she announced: “To see Mr. Fox.” She was immediately ushered to Alan Dwan's office, where she won her chance. And there’s Dorothy Christy, who made up her mind between lunch and dinner one after- noon that she’d go on the stage. Marching up to Ziegfeld’s office that sultry July day she found the inner door open in hope of a breeze. Instead of a breeze in went Dorothy to discover three men in shirtsleeves. “If any of you are Mr. Ziegfeld,” quoth Dor- othy, “I'll work for him.” “I am and you can,” laughed Ziegfeld and engaged her at $100 a week as show girl. “That was easy,” thought Dorothy. ‘“Maybe I can do better.” So she went to Schwab & Mandel, bluffed her way in and came out with a three-year -contract. Then she telephoned Mr. Ziegfeld that she thought she wouldn’t be a show girl after all! I Evelyn Brent's alarm clock had gone off Maureen O’Sullivan. Them the Big Chance William Haines. she'd be a school teacher. She had completeq her normal schoél course and had a holiday befo : taking a class. ‘There were two invitae tion-—one for Coney Island and the other to s2> the studios a* Fort Lee. Evelyn decided to go to» Coney Island, but the alarm clock didn’t woik and she missed thz train, so had to go on th> ctudio party instead. There some one made a lest of her and-—she isn't a school teacher! The comedy company that employed Betty Compson fired her becaus: she wouldn't make a personal appearance with a bathing-girl piciure. That was a break, because she wouldn’t have bzen looking for a job if they hadn’t, and then shc wouldn't have landed the part in “The liiracle Man” that made her a star overnight. Socking your foreman in the jaw isn’t usually, a fortunate occurrence. But when Jack Mulhall did it to his iron found:y boss he knew better than to return to work, o he joined a circus, The circus led to the stage, the stage to pictures, and look at him now. Gloria Swanson glimpsed John Boles’ profile when he was playing in “Kitty's Kisses” on Broadway and d:cided to make one more test for the role of her leading man. The test put John into pictures. - Constance Bcnnett became restless after making her bow to society in Washington, D. C. Her father, Richa:d Bennett, offered her a part in a play he was producing, but during re- hearsals warned her that if she signed it must be for the run of thz play, anywhere from two months to two years. While she was making up her mind Connie attended an equity ball with her father and was noticed by Samuel Goldwyn. “Suppose you do ‘Cytherea’ for me,” he sug- gested. Connie accepted and so settled her career. Bob Armstrong says luck directed his foote steps into the office of a Broadway producer one day just as Lucille Webster Gleason got thee. The producer didn't give Bob a job, but Lucille, who was rocruiting players for a Summer stock company, did. That's not all. The season wasn't good and the last week found Jim and Lucille Gleason without funds to pay for the rights to a play. “Let’s try out that thing we wrote,” suggestcd Jim. 7?le dug into his trunk, feund the manu- script of a play with a good part for himself and one that weuld de fer Bob, and put #t on. It mdde more money than anything they'd tried all Summer, so when they got back to Broadway they made the rounds again, with the result that “Is Zat So?” ran for years on Broadway and in London and made them all rich. Too bad it's so hard to get into studios now- adays. Lots of stars owe their starts to being secn by th: right people at psychological mo- ments while visiting other stars on sets. There was Johnny Mack Brown, who called on George Fawcett, an old family friend, and was observed at lunch in the studio cafe by a dirsctor who suggested a test. Sue Carol fell in love with Nick Stuart while dancing at Cocoanut Grove, and in order to sec him again dropped in on Janet Gaynor at the studio where Nick was working. A director asked her to make a test. Carele Lombard, who went to lunch with a school friend at Mack Sennett's was seen by Mack himself and signed before she left the lunch room. . USSELL GLEASON, who went to watch Bob Armstrong do a fight scene in a picture, was selected by Edward H. Griffith for a role in “Shady Lary.” Polly Meran was playing in vaudeville in Los Angeles when her old friend, Charlie Murray, asked her to come out and see how pictures were made. The set was a hotel lobby, and Charlie dared Polly to go on and do a bit. “Just anything that occurs to you, darling,” he said lightly. Polly walked in, registered at the desk, thoughtfully wiped the pen on the clerk's shaggy hair and brought such a laugh that Sennett wouldn't let her leave without a contract. Talk about lucky breaks! Florence Britton applied at Sam Goldwyn's office for extra work on Ronald Colman's picture. An executive, passing, saw her and gave her a test for the part of the sister. She’s had no chance to do extra work since, for she's been so busy playing leads. Bette Davis was training to be a dancer when Frank Conway stopped in to watch a class and advised the youngster to try the stage. Sidney Fox might still be a stenographer if John Martin hadn't been late going to lunch one day and so been caught at his desk by an eager aspirant who persuaded him to give her a chance. And Lew Ayres might have left Holly- wood disgusted if he hadn't passed Car! Laem- mle, jr., on the Universal lot one day when they were making tests for the great war pictige. * . ¢ ¢ » “Oj', Lady Luck!"” (Coprright, 1090.)