Evening Star Newspaper, July 5, 1931, Page 64

- S —— PR R—— — Over the Cli Unsung Heroes of the Silver Screen, the Many Extras Eager to Double for the Stars and Take All Manner of Chances in Hazardous Exploits —Just to Garner the Glory of Adventure and Glittering Gold. BY ALICE L. TILDESLEY. HEN something very brave, reckless or thrilling is done on the screen, who does it? The star, of course. Why ask foolish questions? But often in the space behind the silver sheet there are valiant souls, unsung heroes, whose deads are as gallant as any ever performed before a camera. Not so long ago an ambitions scenarist ereated a scene in which a maniac sets fire to a light house, entrapping two lovers in a tower. The two in the tower were directed by the script to remain shuddering in the window until the flames were almost upon them and then to makc spectacular leaps into the sea. It sound:d great on paper “We can use dummies the leap,” the company decided. thus obv 02 the necessity for a sear for a light houses situated by a nice, sand-botlomed sea. Iaguna, it was ar- ranged, offercd the most pictorial setting, with its huse> biack rocks jutting up from the caurn- ing s.a. The early s:€ncs wore made. The two young people who played the lovers duly cowered and prayed and calied for help from the tower windews. The dummies were thrcwn, s a test,” before ihe firr was lighted. And it was to be clearly seen that they were dumimnies and not two ter:iiied lovers. What to d-o’ The two in the tower could not be permitted to leap, le t they crack their valuable heads or limbs and thus spoil the picture. A brief con- sultation res:'ted in a hurry call to the home casting ofiice for two exiras, one small and one large, wio knew how to dive and swim and who wer> williny to do both for $25. TALL, thin chap and a small, short one duly arrived. The assistant director ex- plained the scene, which could not be made until nis':*, dwelling on precautions to be taken and the signals to be observed. They were shown the light house and the position of the rocks at its base and permitted to estimate the height of the tide. That nigut after the two had taken up their places at the tower window—the little fellow in the giri’'s dress—a storm came on and the waves dashed giant whitecaps over the jagged rocks “Great! great!” cricd the director. “Come on! Step on it! Camera!” The maniac set a match to his prepared bon- fire and the flames sprang up, following the indicat-d trail arranged by experts. But the experts had not reckoned with the storm. One elem>nt rushed to the other and. presently the roar.ng flames were: beyond control. To the tall one and the short one standing in the tower it locked as though the sea itself werd on fire. No swimmer, viewing the surge of those mighty waves and the pounding against the terrible rocks, could hope to live in it even if he escaped the fire. They dared not jump. To the company standing on shore they seemed doomed. “Jump! jump!” cricd some voices, aghast at the flames. “No, no!” urged others, aghast at the storm. The two victims couldn’t hear, but when the menace of the fire made action imperative they made a pitiful dash down the circular stairway into the holocaust below. “They're done for!" breather the onlookers. But the light house door opened and the tall, thin one emerged to fall almost fainting into a small brat that had stood by in the hope of rescue. “Wher='s Shorty?” he asked presently, when he could control his trembling lips. “Didn't gzt through.” “For cryin’ out loud!" gasped the tall one. He sprang from the boat, dashed back into the burning building and came out at last carrying the little fellow, whose girl's gown hung in smpldering shreds. Fifty dollars was the price set on her life by ope slim little extra girl. Sam Goldwyn, producer, was giving a break- fast for the press in honor of his loveliest star, invitinz us befere that breakfast to witness one of the n picture’s biggest thrills. An 2sccnsion in an enormous balioon was to be made, the girl making the ascension “bailing out” at a certain height and coming down via parachute. The press gathered on the grounds of an elaborate circus set outside the studio, whose extras in garish costumes thronged the gay tents. The great balloon strained at its guy ropes, in the center of it all Vilma Banky in the scarlet satin of her acrobat’s dress, finished the brief sequence that led to the balloon’s ascent. “Where's the parachute jumper?” began to be asked over and over. 5 Presently it developed that the trained para- chiate jumper had met with an accident on her way to the set. “After all, if you know how, there’s no trick to it,” argued the director, and sent his aide scurrying through the extra ranks to find some one who had used a 'chule. A girl cam~ forward. She said she had been in a circus. She had often leaped from planes. No, not fiom balloons, but, of course, she could do that, too, if they'd just explain * * * She’d do it for $50. Sne was hurried into a scarlet costume and into a blonde wig duplicating the star’s soft locks, made up and rushed to the balloon, whose husky guardians explained how to pull the rope that collasped the huge gas bag, how to cut loose, how to open the ’chute. “Remember to pull on the cords ofgyour ‘chute in the exact opposite direction frofn the way you want to go.” “¥Yes, I know. I know,” she rcpeated. With astonishing calm sh: stepped into the basket that hung below the balloon and stood clinging to the side while the guy ropes were loosed. The thing weunt biundering up like a mamnioia elephant su y ai i a newspaperman touche y 3 “What do you know?" he obs>rved in a curi- ously flat voice. *“That kid up there never saw a parachute in lier life. She's taking a chance for $30. Her baby's in the hospital.” We watched in horrer. Uyp in the blue, where even the air-minded el>phant looked midget- sized, a scarlet atom made an invisible gesture. The balloon crumpled up like so much gray paper and blew awzy in a cloud. Something that looked like a bright pencil dropped through space for what seemed a long time. The crowd below stood in dead, terrified immobility until the parachute opened flowerlike, when every- body sighed with a relief that turned to re- newed alarm as the flower with its scarlet center floated dangerously near live electric wires. “She’s lost her head! She's pulling the wrong way! She’ll never come down alive!” we groaned. . But she did, landing beautifully right before the cameras, where she remembered to pause and bow before she fainted. Bob Perry, an extra whose years were well above two score, stood on & balcony above a swimming pool, depicting a guest at a country club dance for one of Colleen Moore's flapper films. He was wearing evening clothes and his part in the affair was “atmosphere.” Action centered in the pool, where Colleen was doing a drowning scene. “Great acting! Great acting, Colleen!” ap- plauded her director, who saw the little bubbles come frothing up on the pool. But Bob from above saw that it wasn't acting at all. Water was. running down the star's throat and her wide eyes were staring. He leaped feet first, evening clothes, top hat and all, from the balcony into the pool, went straight to the bottom, where he executed a kick that sent him flying upward. On the way he grabbed Colleen and threw her on th~ bank. “Man, you're crazy!” shouted the crew, and would have mobbed him, but when they saw that Colleen was unconscious they applauded instead. It is possible, however, for an extra to be too heroic. - In one picture the script required horses and wagons to cross a treacherous stream. Cow- boys were stationed at points out of camera range to rescue any who might not make head- way against the torrent. Since these rescuers were men who knew their business no casualties were reported. Among the cowboys who joined the movies in Oregon for this sequence was a chap dressed The movie stunt man rode a motor cycle down a banister. He started off by THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, B. C, JULY 5, 1931. ~ ff to Fame or Disaster Close-up of an actor registering realistic emotions as he is struck by a rock. loses Ris hold and is theoretically hurled into space from the canyon wall. in an outfit rivaling Tom Mix’'s—silver-mounted saddle, silver-mounted bridle, even silver- mounted guns—a real Hollywood Westerner! The director permitted him to cross the river with the actors, but after he had crossed he sat on his horse behind the cameras and looked on. John Wayne, the leading man, and his com- panion had been directed to cross at a par- ticularly dangerous point and were having trouble climbing the bank. It was trouble necessary to the picture, and Director Walsh was congratulating himself that the effect would be realistic, when suddenly with a great crash of hoofs the silver-mounted cowboy thundered down in front of the camera, grasped the lead horse and yanked the actors up the bank, where he sat smiling and panting, wait- ing to be congratulatad. “You spoiled the scene!” roared the director, and the would-b: hero was dismissed from the location. SUE CAROL'S director determined to take no chances when he shot a scene in which Sue and Barry Norton must drive over a cliff into the sea. He provided a cool-headed stunt man to stand by as life guard. going through & French door and made the descent without agcidmt until the Jump, when he lost his balance and ended up in & hospital. Sue and Barry understood exactly what te do, but wh2n they hit the water they both became panicky. They caught at each other and sank. Carveth, the stunt man. leaped in with a life preserver, seized Sue and pushed the preaerver at Barry. But Barry was beyond recognizing it; he clung to Sue’s ncck, ap- parently determined to drown her, and it was a minute before Carveth could separate them and convince the boy that the precerver was safe. In a recent picture the script rejuired the burning of a four-story building. The s>t had cost thousands of dollars, and in order to make the fire more spectacular additional thousands had been spent on special machinery that would crumble the walls in a realistic fashion. Natnurally, there could be no retakes, so the cast, including many extras, was rehecarsed again and again. and it was 3 o'clock in the morning before “Camera!” was call2d. Smoke began to curl from the floors. Two extra girls, peering from their station on the top floor, saw their signal and climbed out on the roof. The flames were licking around the edges, as they had been expected to do. and the girls ran for the flagpole down which they had been told to slide. Heavens! Instead of a clear space below, a fire-pan blazed merrily. Did they lose their hzads and spoil the picture? No, they fought their way through the smoke back from the camera’s range until they could hang over the farther side of the building and shriek for aid. They were rescued by firemen just before the walls gave way. Contrary to the usual experience of the un- sung hero, these young heroines were rewarded with double pay as well as praise. "HE GuU.ce Wil f Waiter Holfman, in charge of dynamite in a war picture, saved the lives of three screen soldiers during a hard- fought battle. Dynamite had been buried at strategic points over the field. The expert at his switch on the sidelines set the charges off at intarvals carefully timed. Soldiers had been warn>d not to fall where the blasts would occur, but in the excitement and confusion of rushing soldiers, explosions, the rat-tat-tat of machine gun fire, jt was difficult to remember directions. Three of the youngsters making the dash fell down on one of the most heavily loaded charges. Something seemed to say to the expert, ‘Look!” just as he was about to throw that switch * * * which is the reason there are not three graves credited to fighting the war again. . ¥ (Copyright, 1981.)