Evening Star Newspaper, August 1, 1937, Page 86

12 Here's Why: ESTs made by various psycholo- gists, including Dr. Irving Lorge, of New York, and Dr. Walter R. Miles, of the Institute of Human Relations at Yale, prove that it isn’t age, but mental sluggishness, thuet keeps many people in a rut. Dr. Miles, who studied certain mental functions of a number of old people, reports that ‘‘one fourth to one third of old people more than seventy-four years of age are still as capable, in the functions tested, as the by IRA S. WiLE, M.D. average adult.” He adds that although people may show a decline of mental ability as the years roll by, their earlier individual differences are more important than the effects of the pass- ing years. Alexander von Humboldt began one of his most celebrated writings when he was seventy-six and com- pleted it when he was ninety; Kant, the philosopher, was writing on an- thropology at seventy-four; Gladstone took up Hebrew in his old age; Michel- you’re ““too old to learn’ THIS WEEK You should never say 4 angelo and Titian were painting in their eighties and nineties; Galileo was still making important discover- ies in astronomy when he was seventy- five; Foch and Hindenburg were still studying war strategy when they were over sixty; Elihu Root was a tremen- dous force in American affairs and still learning when he had passed three score. Continuing to learn is less a matter of mental ability than of coantinuing intellectual curiosity. Lucky Stars actress,”’ having played a few small parts in some comedies made in a little studio in Mount Vernon. And to lend strength to her own recommenda- Xfon, she closed both eyes, sent up a fervent prayer and asked for $100 a week. 3 She got it — for four weeks. Then followed a three-month stretch with nothing left to do but haunt agencies and casting offices. Occasionally, she got a day’s extra work — $7.50 was tops, and not all profit by any means; a rented costume cost $3, the agency got 50 cents, and the buses and street cars took another dollar. But she didn’t mind; she just kept plugging along. Behind her were the rather unhappy experiences of having been a saleslady in a popular music store, a clerk at this and a clerk at that. The thing she was attempting at least offered a future if she clicked. "Through perseverance and hard work, she landed a leading part in a picture called ‘‘The Stealers.” The director said she was great. The staff said she was great, and even the con- ductor on the street car that took her home each night said she was great. But the months went by and she didn’t get another job. There were months of that— months of starving quite successfully. Up in Montreal, her father was still struggling. She figured home would be a much nicer place in which to starve, so back she went. Her next job was posing for a com- mercial photographer in Montreal. In the midst of this, she received a wire from a New York agent saying 1% had a contract offer from the Coast. Back to New York — and there to learn that something had gone amiss with the offer. But why go on? I can only repeat the innumerable hardships she suffered. She saw it through because she had courage and her shapely head wasn’t enveloped in a cloud. Today, that same indomitable courage sees her through the tragedy of having lost the Continved from page seven man she loved; a man whose passing all Hollywood mourned; a man who was a genius in reality — Irving Thal- berg. These are but pot-luck sketches of people who climbed to the top, and there are many, many more. Holly- wood is alive with them, but it isalso a bit top-heavy with the -tales of those who didn’t. About a year ago a certain young fellow was trying to make both ends meet on five bucks a week. He had an ambition; he wanted to be an actor on the stage. He carried with him a name that had spelled glory for his father, but quite the opposite for him. Tyrone Power, Jr. Condescending stage direc- tors were always glad to see him, al- ways glad to extol the virtues of the pater — and unanimous in wishing him well. But where is the stage direc- tor who doesn't shudder at the thought of using a master’s son? A fluke of fate got him his first job. Katharine Cornell came to town and, hungry with the desire to see her per- form, he went to the stage manager, intending to beg him for a pass. There was a line of applicants ahead of him. He thought they were there for passes, too, but they weren’t; they were looking for jobs. The director put in his appearance, saw Tyrone and brightened. ““How would you like to be the un- derstudy of Burgess Meredith?"” Tyrone nodded dumbly. He main- tains that if he had opened his mouth, he would have cried. “Good!” said the director. ‘‘What'’s your name?”’ “Doakes,”” was the sputtered reply — “Tyrone Doakes.” In a very short time he played opposite Miss Cornell in ““St. Joan,” “Flowers of the Forest” and ‘“Romeo and Juliet.” Six months ago Darryl Zanuck sent for him. Tyrone claims he touched only two states en route. He was put in the musical, *“‘Sing, Baby, Sing’’; worked one week and was yanked from the cast. A pretty Drawn by George Mabie SO, MICHAEL — THAT'S WHAT YOU CALL WORKING NIGHTS!" heartsick lad, he began folding up his other pair of pants, intending to take the first train back to New York. Compassion played a part, and he was allowed to do a bit in “Girls’ Dormi- tory,” the picture that put Simone Simon on the celluloid map. The studio didn’t think much of him, but an individual — Darryl Zanuck, himself — did. And to prove the latter’s contentions, more than a thousand letters poured in from vari- ous parts of the country — the lady fans, barometer of the actor’s suc- cess. His next was ‘“‘Ladies In Love” — just a fellow in the picture. But 1t did things for him; and the next time we see him, he's the star in “Lloyds of London.” Next it is ‘‘Café Metro- pole,”’ and after that — well, there are bigger things to come. The story of success in Hollywood 1s not always about the fellow who came frorn nowhere and worked up. Take Ben Blue, for instance. For nearly a score or years he had been a top man in vaudeville. He was famous for his skating and other inimitable dances. He toured the capitals of the world. And for seventeen years he tried to get a break in the movies —but the near- est he could come to it was a few one and two-reel shorts. In vaudeville he headlined the bills above the names of Jack Benny and Burns and Allen. He originated a bur- lesque minuet for the latter team and himself. It was so funny that he was later offered $10,000 for the act to use in “The Big Broadcast of 1937.” He refused. What he wanted was a job in the movies. Then another picture came along — “College Holiday.” The ofter was re- newed. Blue countered with the propo- sition that he would give them the skit for nothing provided they let him dance with Burns and Allen. It was accepted, but rather reluctantly. Blue “wowed”’ the preview audiences and now he’s tied up to a term contract. Curiously, Martha Raye, the Lady With the Big Mouth, worked in that picture, too. She owes her success partly to the fact that Ben Blue had once fired her from his road company. She immediately got a job singing in a night club, but her act consisted ot nothing but songs, and she was just getting by. One night, it so happened, the daughter of an ultra-socialite fam- ily of New York came to the club quite inebriated — to tell the simple truth, she was plastered. The watchful eye of Martha Raye caught her silly mannerisms and incorporated them into an act. The impersonation made her a hit in vaudeville and, later, at- tracted the attention of the movies. Today, she’s chronicled as a “‘find.” And, as a matter of fact, she is just that. Fortunately, physical beauty is not the main requisite today; it's some- thing more important than that: the ability to think with the heart as well as the mind. The studios are full of alabaster- featured Dumb Doras — little ladies who tussle at dramatics with empty heads. Now and then, of course, one of them steps out of the ranks and be- comes somebody, but it’s a very rare occurrence. The unusual ones, instead of rushing away the moment a scene is finished, stick around from early morning until the bellowed orders to “‘wrap 'em up!” They study the actions of every prominent player minutely. They learn most of their camera tricks from the character actors. These character actors are the truly important people so far as story is concerned. They are the light and shade of a production, affording the proper background for potential stars and making it possible for them to succeed. And so the Dumb Doras, whose forte is one of vacuity and trembling lips, are giving way to the little ladies who act with both heart and mind. The poseur, who foisted him- self upon tae public as a second Ham- let, has gone back to his job as a clerk in a penmanship scnool. The motion picture has become a production nstead of a few cans of celluloid film!" The End All Blood Is Red Continved from page ten from the manacle. He staggered back- ward. Red, free, scrambled to his knees and then to his feet. The Jap- anese turned and made a headlong plunge through the broken window. Red dived after him, hands out- stretched. They grasped Di-Di’s knee, slipped but came to anchor at the ankle. The Japanese hung dangling over the balustrade, suspended by one doubled leg. ; “Hold him, Long!’ shouted Carda- van. “Hold him!” With the wrecked sitting room re- turned to a semblance of order, a court was being held. Di-Di — Lieu- tenant Dedi eu Yahayeshi — was bound to a straight chair; Yin-Tsao- Feng, sumptuous in dark blue silk, sat in another and Dr. Millar in a third. Captain Wong and Cardavan remained standing, as did Wah Ling, Feng and Fu-Ming, on guard near the door. Mrs. Bynne, with Aldyreff in assiduous attendance, was still ab- sent. Tracy and Red, though not in the room, were nearby; she was busy tenderly bathing Red’s bruises with a wet towel. “It’s all my fault,” she half sobbed. “If I'd only unlocked the handcuffs this wouldn’t have happened.” “Wrong,” said Red, his swollen lips smilmg funnily. “You saved the day. If I hadn’t been chained to the little wildcat, I could never have held him. But there’s something I've got to tell you in a hurry, something important.” ‘“What?” He held her arms and made her look at him. “I love you, Tracy,” he said. ““And I you, Red.” “Really?” “With all my heart.” “When — when did it happen?” “I suppose it’s been coming on for days, but I didn’t know it surely and forever until just now.” He drew her close and kissed her, first slowly and then with all the fervor in his being. The warmth of her young body became an enveloping flame, blinding them both, blotting out all worlds save this world of their own. Abruptly she drew back, her eyes tearful. ““Oh, Red, doesn’t it hurt?” ““What?” “Your lips — your poor lips!” His eyes laughed at her. ‘‘Of course it hurt,”” he said. ‘“Way down deep to the roots of me. It chained me to you, Tracy — the way 1 was chained to that Japanese.” *“That’s how I feel too, Red. Don’t ever ask for the key.” “Mr. Long!’ called Cardavan. He knocked and opened the door. “‘Oh, I'm sorry.” “You needn’t be,”” said Red, slipping an arm around Tracy. ‘“Miss Lloyd and I have nothing to hide from now on.” “Great!’ said Cardavan. *‘In spite of your damaged appearance, Long, the two of you are as handsome a pair of lovers as I’ve ever seen. But I'll have to postpone congratulations until later. Please come on in.” They followed him. Red paused to Mogozine Section greet Dr. Millar, then sank in one of the big arm chairs and drew Tracy down beside him. His eyes wandered curiously over Lieutenant Yahayeshi, puzzled go small a body could have tossed his own bulk around. The Jap- anese remained as unconscious of his presence as of that of all others in the room; his face was stony, putty solidi- fied. Red turned to Wong. “Captain, I'm afraid I owe you another apology.”’ “Far from it, Pilot Long. To you, I and all my people are indebted.” “Will you tell me how you could come to the rescue so quickly?”’ “We were waiting in the office downstairs.” Yin-Tsao-Feng raised and dropped his fan, commanding silence. Across the fingers of his other hand he bal- anced the back-scratcher from whose handle protruded at right angles the two-inch hypodermic needle. **‘Doctor Millar,” he said in his soft voice, ‘‘if this needle were driven into the me- dulla oblongata at the base of a man’s skull, what would happen?”’ “Nothing,”” said Millar. “We do it frequently.” Silence fell on the room — a silence that was like a blow, dulling the senses. Yin was the first to recover from as- tonishment. ‘‘So, in your opinion,” he questioned, *“‘Mr. Long has solved nothing?”’ 1 didn't say that,’” said Dr. Millar. “Give me the needle!” Captain Wong sprang forward. He took the back-scratcher and passed it to the doctor, who promptly extracted the needle and raised it to his thick lenses. He studied it closely, brushed a tiny flake from its butt and then blew through it. A microscopic glint of moisture appeared at the point. He sniffed it and turned to face Yin. *“This needle,” he declared, ‘‘was loaded with prussic acid and sealed at the base with paraffin. Propelled by a pliant wand it was driven into the medulla oblongata and its charge ex- pelled, the reflex hurling the needle into the curtain where it was found. I doubt I need inform anyone present that hydrocyanic acid — prussic acid, as it is vulgarly termed — is the most virulent poison known to man. Though there was no trace, not even a visible puncture, Major Bynne died more quickly than if his skull had been crushed by a pile driver. You can thank Mr. Long for the solution of an otherwise inexplicable murder.” Yin-Tsao-Feng turned his shrewd pouched eyes on Red and Tracy. “In thanking one, do I thank both?"’ he asked. “You do,” said Red. “It is well,” said Yin. “You two need have no thought for your future; it shall be my charge and the charge of China after me. How great is the debt you shall soon know.”” His head swiveled slowly on his thin neck and he * fastened a basilisk gaze on the stoical Yahayeshi. “Lieutenant, you have heard,” he resumed after a weighty pause. ‘‘Lis- ten to the verdict and you can answer by deed since you shrink from using words. The secret of the murder of Major Bynne is still encompassed by these four walls. If it remains so, there need be no war — not yet. War, Lieu- tenant. Your country has been itching for it. Does it want it now — within forty-eight hours, with a China which has come to realize her oneness, her. strength? The matter lies in your hands. ““Is your country ready? Merely nod and we'll send you to public decapita- tion tomorrow with every newspaper in the world blazoning the crime for which you die. War, yes — war! But perhaps you’'d give your life to keep the secret a little longer — just a little | longer!” Rising, he turned to Wong. ‘“‘Captain, loose his left arm and leave your gun where he can reach it.” Red, quick to understand, sprang up and half carried Tracy through the entresol into the hall ahead of the rest. Yin-Tsao-Feng followed with un- hurried dignity and after him came Dr. Millar, Cardavan and the three guards. Tracy rushed toward her own room, both handsto her ears. Red tried the knob; it was locked. Wong stepped out, soft-footed, and stood waiting. Red took Tracy in his arms comfort- ingly and covered her head. She scarcely heard a quick report, muffled and far away, like the slamming of a distant door. The End e 4 g v.