The evening world. Newspaper, February 11, 1922, Page 18

2 THE EQISiING WORLD’S FICTION SECTION, SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 11, 1922. andoubtedly the greatest of living or _ dead directors, I still realize what I owe to Hugh, Naturally, I am fond of the blond Irishman, and he regards me af a great man, with a number of well-defined limitations. HEN we completed “Whisper Island,” which was our last dramatic triumph before “Lord Jones,” I sat in the projection coom looking at the rough cut and feeling morose unto the point of murder, Old man Feltman sprawled upon an adjoining chair,“and we watched 7,000 feet of first-class film and about 300 feet of fight. The fight was terrible, Hughie knocked the villain dead, and you knew in your heart the blow that laid the monster low would not really have in- Jured a small child eating its morning gruel, “Holy Cripes!” Feltman said in a low voice, This he repéated feeling!ly all during the fight stuff. “Holy Cripes solemnly, “It reminds me of a couple of fe- male impersonators in mortal combat. I toid you to make him fight, I begged you to make him fight.” “T did what I could,” I replied dis- mally, “I asked Hugh over and oyer to put some zip into it. He promised he would. I shot that scene three times, and this is the best I got.” Feltman threw his cigar violently upon the concrete door and stamped is correct,” I agreed on it. He rose and pawed his way in the darkness to the door, and I fol- lowed, “Something,” he said, “will have to be done. This can go no further. Every one of Hugh's pictures for the past year has had just such a silly ght, I'm telling you, Dryden, You'll have to do something about this, or one of these days you'll hear bad news.” I sat up in bed one misty morning about 2 o’clock, a few days after this, and grinned a glad smile at the alarm vlock. Within a week we were to be- gin on “Lord Jones,” and I had been fretting myself pink over the same old knot. “What's the matter with you?” in- quired the missus, who is a great be- liever in using the night for slumber and having all your ideas in the day- time. . “I'ye got it,” I stated in a tone of triumph. n oul the light,” the quested, “You may have it, but I don’t want it, nor do I wish to hear it at tl s moment.” I did as requested, because in Cali- fornia nowhere is true art so little appreciated as, in the bosom of one's home iS The next mérning at 10 I halted Julie Howard in front of her dressing room, “Come into the office,” I said briskly. “Important.” “Very well,” Julie answered cheer- f!y, and she’s one cheerful young per- gon. “It is usual to say ‘please’ when addressing a lady.” : I said “please,” and we entered my private boudoir, which was formerly a storehouse for synthetic élephants and decrepit scenery. I closed the door. “you love Hugh, don’t you?” I in- quired, and it was a fair question, be- cause they were engaged, and every one knew it, Julie is a diminutive leading lady with rope-colored hair and an encouraging smile. She had played gpposite Hugh in six of his last fourteen pictures, “I do,” she replied, staring at me in some concern, “but why clog the wheels of progress and drag me in to ask such a fool question on a nice morning?” “Some day you want him to be the foremost male star in the movies, don't you?” I continued, and Julle bobbed her attractive head, “Good. You know, as we all know, that his fights have been bloomers. Everybody is criticising them. If we want to make ‘etter pictures with Hugh, we've got to @o something about the fights, and you can help me.” “How?” Julie asked, “Get Hughie mad I have figured out a scheme to rouse his angry pas- gions, He never went into a fight yet when he was roaring mad, and that's what I want him to be. depend on you, Julie.” “How?” she asked again, Indian, “Go to Hugh and tell him you want to break your engagement.” The lady surveyed me in cold amazement, “Break our engagement. What for?” “Tell Hughie that you no longer love him; that you are now older ~and plainly see that you cannot ever care for him as a wife should, and that consequently you will not marry him. Talk very sensibly about it, and when he asks you if there is another man, as he will, bow your head and tell him there is,” “Who might this other man be?” Julie inquired with faint sarcasm, “Sidney Hopper,” I returned, “and there's your jolly little scheme in a nutshell. Sidney is the heavy in ‘Lord Jones,’ and it’s his last job with the company. It’s your duty to avoid Hughie and be nice to Sidney, who, of course, will never know he has won your trembling and maidenly heart from Hugh.” I'm going to like an ULIE continued to stare at me as though I were a goldfish with nine legs that had just been called to her attention, The Sidney Hopper in question, for mane ahem te ene apt a et nr Fuse ncaa ee rae Oe Sons acento en oh eee mee ewe ate Tut tte Se mtn + me = “GET HUGHIE MAD. * * * are invisible to the rest of us, it may well be that we shall see a minor massacre when we come to the fist fight in ‘Lord Jones’ That's plain, isn’t it?” “Perhaps,” she said, “but if I d@id agree to this piece of nonsense, what is there to keep Hugh from larruping Hopper without waiting for the cam- era? He might, you know.” “T know Hughie, He will go quietly away and gloom himself half to death. He will sink into a smoldering, silent grouch. I'll guarantee there will be no physical violence until the proper time comes. Hughie is no longshore- man,” “It's asking a great deal of a girl,” she sald, “Think of breaking with Hugh for that drunken little beast of a Hopper.” “Think of the picture. You want it to be a good picture, don’t you?” “All right,” Julie said. “Ill do my best to help you, Steve. I want Hugh to get ahead, but ['m warning you now. If any trouble comes of all this, it is entirely up to you.” 4 “Fair enough,” I said buoyantly, patting her on the shoulder, “You're a nice little girl.” > We began shooting “Lord Jones” on the 3d of January and it skimmed without untoward along gayly and i HE NEVER WENT INTO A FIGHT YET WHEN HE WAS ROARING MAD AND THAT'S WHAT | WANT HIM TO BE.” whom I was cooking up an unmonoto- nous future, was a second-rate actor who suffered from violent hallucina- tions about his ability, We paid him one hundred a week to be the villain, because he had a dissolute and wicked countenance, and looked like a miser- able scoundrel without any make-up whatever, He was wholly unreliable, with a chronic fondness for rum, and he spent his nights at the beach in the Brig Cafe, which was the one spot in California forbidden to Cines-Torino employees by old man Feltman, Hop- per was all through with our outfit and he knew it, and therefore it was laying it on a bit to ask Julie to fall in love with him, even in pretense. “Sidney Hopper?” Julie exclaimed. “How ridiculous!” “Is it ridiculous?” I returned. “If it appears that you have given Hughle the sack, and have found lovable and husbandly qualities in Hopper which incident. tom, we Following our usual cus- were everything but the saloon stuff, whigh we saved for the last, because the saloon was the scene of the scrimmage between Lord Jones and Ceci! Titherington, the in- sufferable scoundrel played by Sidney Hopper. It is always good judgment to shoot your fight stuff at the very end. In case your star inadvertently had his features erased by a moying chair, he can thet? go away and grow a new set and no harm done. I watched Hugh Foley to see how my scheme worked and, somewhat to my surprise, he went along with his daily work in his usual serene man- ner, I looked for signs of distress over losing Julle, but there was nary a sign, to her, “Well,” [ demanded, “did you break off the engagement?” “[ did’ not,” she replied. “What's the use of doing it now? You're a long After a day or two [ spoke way from the end of this picture, and that fight scene comes last. Why not let me wait and tell Hugh just a day, em two before he fights Sidney?” - This was a new ‘angle, I wanted to work up a slow, petulant grouch, but Julie insisted that she certainly would not tell Hughie such an outrageous falsehood and have him all upset for weeks. I finally gave in. I had to ‘give in, That's one of the things about women, They will do what you want, but they do it in their own way and in their own sweet time, We ground steadily away at “Lord Jones,” making very good speed, and having no trouble at all, except that Sidney Hopper acted rather nasty at times, and sneered along through his part, He knew that it was his final picture and that he was being fired because of his alcoholic habits, Felt- man had already notified him that in future we would try to struggle on without him. : When we cleared up everything ex- cept the saloon brawl, I began work- ing out the details. It was to start off with a general free-for-all battle, in which a dozen members of the com- pany would do their best to simulate a gang fight. After the lesser scoun- drels had been driven from the scene, Lord Jones was to have his-chance at the villain, who “deserved everything he was going to get. We started the general battle and the mob worked well and quickly. I wound up the fighting about noon on Monday, and we spent the afternoon preparing for Hugh's big fight with Hopper, which I expected to shoot some time Tuesday, RECALL that during the last days of the “Lord Jones” picture I was not a gracious and pleasing object to the human eye, because of a slight accident in my own home, I think it was on the Saturday night preceding our final week with the pic- ture that the missus roused me from a deserved slumber about 3 in the morning and bade me walk hurriedly into the kitchen and fill the hot-water botile, I scrambled out of bed, started for the kitchen in a staggering line, and walked directly into the end of the bedroom door, I hit the part you always hit when you walk into a door at night, namely, your head. The door was a strong, solid piece of architec- ture, and my first impression was that I had been killed and would be buried after a decent wait. My skull must be as thick as people have said, be- cause I lived through it; but in the morning I resembled the sole survi- vor of some terrible railroad wreck. My forehead had an indentation, as though somebody had started to hew his way the ough with an ax. My nose was” skinned thoroughly. My ‘rather prominent cheek bone was chipped a bit, and my right eye was as blue and closed as a Pittsburgh very saloon, I accused the missus of trying to murder me for the insurance, but she merely remarked that at my age a man ought to be able to find his way round a five-room bungalow’ with doors everywhere, Sunday my features spent the time getting worse to look at, and on Monday, when I strolled into the studio, I encountered Jimmy Dean, the boss property man, “Ah, ha!” Jimmy said, gvinning at me, “First you sassed the man and then he slammed you.” I walked on to the office, and three times I was forced to listen to low insults from the hired hands. Julie Howard came along, looked at my mussed-up features and began to smile. “Why, Steve,” she said. “How ever did it happend?” “A door,” I snapped. “Have you told Hugh yet about that engagement thing?” bd She shook her head, “We shoot the fight went on, “You know that, don’t you? If you're going to help this picture, you'll tell Hugh immediately, Of course if you want us to make an- other of those crumby fights, why, don't tell him, “Very well,” she said slowly, “if I have to, I suppose I must.” “Yes, and you ought to have told him a week ago,” I said sourly. “How- ever, it isn’t too lete yet. Tell him this morning, and then go away some- where until the saloon stuff is over.” to-morrow,” I *