Evening Star Newspaper, October 27, 1935, Page 87

Magazine Section her way into a new role — she proved her marksmanship and will be the Annie Oakley of the films. A new helping of fame for this orphan girl whose charm took her from homelessness to movie stardom by JIM TULLY Author of *‘Beggars of Life,”” “‘Shadows of Men,” “Jarnegan,” Etc. ARBARA STANWYCK is the only motion picture star of the first magnitude who ever shot her way to a role in a feature film. Competing with half a dozen famous screen luminaries for the title role of ‘‘Annie Oakley" in the new R.K.O. screen drama, which de- picts the life of the noted leading woman of Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show, she not only won the role but the title of “Bull’s-Eye Barbara.” Under the tutelage of Captain A. H. Hardy, champion trick shot of America, and using a rifle of the 1885 vintage, to conform with the time element in the film, she hit the target twenty-two out of twenty-five times. Other elements also entered into her se- lection for the coveted role of the most color- ful woman of the eighties. She=has daring and charmand the poise which comes from perfect self-assurance. The little girl from the slums of Brooklyn went a far way because her soul had wings. She is the most genuine girl I have ever known. Her life is an interesting book, any page of which she can turn with considerable pride. There is something exalting and thrilling about the struggle of this orphan girl. I once said to her, a half dozen years ago: “I've never been ashamed of my background ~— my father was a ditch-digger."” She took my arm. *‘I'm in society then, Jim mine was a bricklayer."” I thought for a moment of the two laborers who had been our fathers, and who, inarticu- late as ghosts, had passed on to two red- headed children the gift of life and utterance. Barbara's eyes were wistful. “Thank God we're both Irish,’” she said. In the opinion of Lewis Milestone, the famous director of **All Quiet on the Western Front,” Barbara Stanwyck's performance in Willa Cather's “A Lost Lady" is one of the best of recent years. Adolphe Menjou, an actor of discrimination with whom she played, has predicted that if given the proper roles, the one time waif will emerge as one of the screen’s greatest actresses. It is my opinion that no actress on the screen can surpass her if she is given ‘“the breaks.” A turbulent fire, she would make an immortal Tess of the D'Urbervilles or a Joan of Arc, in agony at the stake. Her real name is Ruby Stevens. She took the name of Stanwyck from an ancient theater program. It was the name of a pompous Einglish actor, distinguished in his little day. ‘That it was to be carried to the far places of he world by a little girl who thought it ‘sounded pretty" is one of the ironical whim- sies of life. While Barbara was a little girl her mother was pushed from a moving street car by a drunken stranger. About to bring a fifth child into the world, she was killed by the fall. The stranger was not found. Barbara's father tried to keep his children together. The struggle told upon his nerves. At last, in desperation, he went to the Panama Canal Zone, where he remained six years as a bricklayer. During this time his four children were scattered in orphanages and the homes of dif- ferent people. Barbara, the youngest, with finely chiseled THIS WEEK “Bull's-Eye Barbara” Barbara Staflw_'yc,{* has shot She “went places’ because her soul had wings’ Below: As she .appears with Robert Ymmg in “Red Salute” face, long auburn hair and large, life-hurt eyes, was taken in by a family in Brooklyn, her native city. The family had a demented son. He cut the child with a knife. Barbara carries the scar to this day. Going from one such home to another, and to an orphanage in between, Barbara reached her twelfth year. There was in the child even then a bravery that laughed at despair. Barbara’s father sent his children word that he was returning home. He sent them instruc- tions and enough money fora ‘‘down payment’’ on furniture. They were to have a homeat last! The children furnished a small apartment. Only those, perhaps, who have been orphan children can realize the joy in their hearts. They loved each other with clannish tenacity. Four against the world, they were now to have a home like other children! They had saved little sentimental tokens of their early years together. Photographs of their mother and father were framed and placed in the space of honor. Gathered from four quarters of Brooklyn, the children, in their pathetic Sunday best, went proudly to the dock. Never were hearts gayer with anticipation. The great boit came steaming into the harbor, heavy with dreams for the eager chil- dren, As it drew near, Barbara spied a man leaning over the rail of the deck. “There's Daddy,” she yelled. The other children took up the cry. When the boat anchored, the children pushed eagerly forward. After a seemingly endless wait, the captain of the ship came toward the expectant chil- dren. They watched him approach. His uniform was of blue and gold. His step was firm. His eyes were tender. Their father had died, and had been buried at sea. The children stared through wet eyes at the great ship that arrived for so many — but not for them. Masefield sensed their feeling when he wrote — “Lord, give to men who are old and rougher, The things that little children suffer, And let keep bright and undefiled, The young years of a little child.” They went their orphaned ways again. The little sentimental tokens were put in storage. The furniture was returned to the store. A longer period of drudgery followed. At thirteen, the future actress put away all her childish cares and joys, if any, and went to work at $10 a week as a typist for a telephone company. Remaining with the company until she was about fifteen, she became obsessed with an ambition to become a missionary in China. Instead, Barbara’s sisters induced her to study dancing. A vaudeville dancer, long retired from the road, taught them the rudiments of dancing. They would meet Barbara whenever possible and pass on to her what they had learned. Thus the kindness of a vaudeville trouper, whose name is heard no more, made many things possible for Barbara later on. There was something of grandeur in the way the twosisters held the torch for the more gifted and younger Barbara. They were soon professional dancers in Chicago. (Continued on page 12)