***************************************************************************** * T A Y L O R O L O G Y * * A Continuing Exploration of the Life and Death of William Desmond Taylor * * * * Issue 73 -- January 1999 Editor: Bruce Long bruce@asu.edu * * TAYLOROLOGY may be freely distributed * ***************************************************************************** CONTENTS OF THIS ISSUE: Taylor's "Tom Sawyer" on Home Video Review: "Death in Paradise" Mabel Normand Here and There, Part II "The Indiscretions of a Star" ***************************************************************************** What is TAYLOROLOGY? TAYLOROLOGY is a newsletter focusing on the life and death of William Desmond Taylor, a top Paramount film director in early Hollywood who was shot to death on February 1, 1922. His unsolved murder was one of Hollywood's major scandals. This newsletter will deal with: (a) The facts of Taylor's life; (b) The facts and rumors of Taylor's murder; (c) The impact of the Taylor murder on Hollywood and the nation; (d) Taylor's associates and the Hollywood silent film industry in which Taylor worked. Primary emphasis will be given toward reprinting, referencing and analyzing source material, and sifting it for accuracy. ***************************************************************************** Jamie Gilcig (bingo30@hotmail.com) is writing a script on the life of Mabel Normand, and is seeking anecdotes or memorabilia. ***************************************************************************** The F. Scott Fitzgerald short story "Pat Hobby's Christmas Wish" (reprinted in the book "The Pat Hobby Stories") involves the Taylor case. Thanks to Katherine Harper for the info. ***************************************************************************** A photograph of Rudolph Valentino, affectionately autographed to Mary Miles Minter, can be seen at http://www.geocities.com/~rudyfan/rv-bday.htm ***************************************************************************** ***************************************************************************** Taylor's "Tom Sawyer" on Home Video William Desmond Taylor directed several dozen silent films, but none of them were available on home video before 1997, at which time Grapevine Video released "Nurse Marjorie," starring Mary Miles Minter. (See TAYLOROLOGY 56.) At long last we, at home, could finally watch one of Taylor's films. Now another film directed by Taylor, "Tom Sawyer" (1917), starring Jack Pickford, has also been released on home video. It is available from Unknown Video, P.O. Box 5272, South San Francisco CA 94083. Overall, "Tom Sawyer" is a much better film than "Nurse Marjorie," even though many of the children in "Tom Sawyer" are portrayed by actors that are too old for the roles. Several contemporary reviews of "Tom Sawyer" can be seen in TAYLOROLOGY 24. Here is another one: * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * December 22, 1917 MOVING PICTURE WORLD As a photodrama "Tom Sawyer" is bound to arouse high expectations, and it is on that very account no easy proposition, but the sceeen version has been constructed with skill; the handling is in fine harmony with the mood of the story, exquisite in some of the details, and Jack Pickford responds to his opportunities so creditably that he completely won a large audience at the Strand by his performance. This is saying a great deal when it is considered that a very large number of people in the average audience are familiar with the principal scenes in the story and have formulated some preconceived ideas of their own how it should be presented...The atmosphere of the story is most perfectly preserved in the scenes depicting the gatherings of townspeople at the meeting house. The selection of church and street; the care shown in costumes and the absence of theatrical exaggeration completes a delightful illusion. We are not looking at a screen story--we are transported to the time and place of an actual experience and are participants in the events. This is truly high art, the more creditable that it must have been difficult to preserve so perfect an atmosphere. Even genuine sternwheel river boats are used when a search is made for the bodies of Tom Sawyer, Huck Finn, and a boon companion, at a time they were camping out on one of the low-lying islands of the Mississippi River. Besides fidelity and good taste in settings and exteriors, the director has added greatly to the general sum of values by amusing bits of psychology among the various types. The types have been well-chosen as a rule, and Jack Pickford carries his difficult role by sheer force of personality. He rivals the bright subtitles in provoking laughter and is conscientious in every moment of his impersonation. It is true that interest centers entirely on the characterization of the lead, relegating the balance of an excellent cast to the background, but his chances for error are correspondingly great, and he sails serenely through them all. The entire production will prove a big winner wherever shown and give satisfaction to those who look for a revival of interest in what has come to be an American classic. ***************************************************************************** ***************************************************************************** Review: "Death in Paradise" DEATH IN PARADISE: AN ILLUSTRATED HISTORY OF THE LOS ANGELES COUNTY DEPARTMENT OF CORNER, by Tony Blanche and Brad Schreiber, was recently published by General Publishing Group, and contains a six-page chapter on the Taylor case. That short chapter's shoddy text seems to have been primarily based on HOLLYWOOD BABYLON-type material, and is filled with many typical errors documented in past issues of TAYLOROLOGY. That would be bad enough if found in an ordinary trashy tabloid-type book on Hollywood scandals; but to be found in a book purporting to be "the authorized story of Coroner's Office investigations," is inexcusable. Some errors: 1. Taylor was 49 years old at the time of his death, not 45. 2. Taylor never wore a British Army officer's uniform in Hollywood until 1919, after his 1918-19 service in the British Army. 3. Taylor became a director for Paramount in 1915, not 1916. 4. Taylor did not abruptly fire his valet, Edward Sands; Sands stole from Taylor and fled while Taylor was on vacation in Europe. 5. The statement that Taylor spent his last evening entertaining Mabel Normand, is loaded with erroneous implications regarding the time, duration and nature of that visit. 6. The date of Taylor's death was correctly given as February 1, 1922, but then incorrectly given as November 1, 1922. 7. Edna Purviance did not telephone Paramount Pictures or Charlotte Shelby; she did not notify them of Taylor's death. 8. Mabel Normand was not at the murder scene on the morning the body was discovered. 9. Adolph Zukor was not at the murder scene on the morning the body was discovered; he was in New York. 10. Charles Eyton arrived at the murder scene after the police arrived, not before. 11. There is no historical evidence that Edna Purviance entered Taylor's home on the morning the body was found. 12. The person seen by Faith MacLean was not "scurrying" from Taylor's bungalow. 13. The statement quoted by Faith MacLean did not come from official records, or even from contemporary newspaper accounts--it came from dubious recaps written decades later. 14. No mention was made at the inquest of any women's underwear, and Mabel Normand's letters were not found until several days after the inquest. 15. Minter was 19 years old when Taylor was murdered, not 22. 16. Minter always denied the rumors that she had sex with Taylor. 17. Zelda Crosby committed suicide in June 1921, many months before Taylor was killed, not afterward. 18. Minter made four films after Taylor's death, not six films. 19. All of the films made by Minter after Taylor's death were released by Paramount. 20. No witnesses reported to have personally seen Taylor assault a drug pusher. 21. Denis Deane-Tanner was not Edward Sands. 22. Denis Deane-Tanner was not wanted for burglary. In addition to the above errors, there were the usual dubious rumors being reported as facts, regarding underwear, drug use, sex, pornographic photographs, 300 confessions, etc. On a scale of 1 to 10, the chapter of the Taylor case in DEATH IN PARADISE probably deserves a rock-bottom "1", but we'll rate it "2" for having spelled "Denis" correctly. ***************************************************************************** ***************************************************************************** Mabel Normand Here and There, Part II Two excellent books have been published about Mabel Normand--MABEL: HOLLYWOOD'S FIRST I-DON'T-CARE GIRL by Betty Fussell, and MABEL NORMAND: A SOURCE BOOK TO HER LIFE AND FILMS by William Thomas Sherman. Issue 54 of TAYLOROLOGY reprinted some fragments of information not mentioned in those two books. Below are some additional such items, which may be of use to future biographers of Mabel Normand. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * November 27, 1912 NEW YORK DRAMATIC MIRROR Actress Has Narrow Escape Mabel Normand is Nearly Pounded to Death by Surf on Rocks Los Angeles--Mabel Normand was the victim of a near tragedy last week, while working in one of Director Mack Sennett's Keystone productions near Topanga canyon. The heroine was lashed securely and placed on a jutting rock where the ocean breakers touched her. As the operator began to turn, a great breaker rolled in, snatching the helpless actress from her position and dashing her among the rocks of the beach. When rescued she was bruised and unconscious. Despite protests Miss Normand insisted upon finishing the picture, but it was done in a less dangerous place. The dailies made a thriller of the news story. [The following article was probably ghost-written, but it gives some additional details regarding the above incident. The film described as "Lizzie's Sacrifice" was probably the same as "For Lizzie's Sake," which was released in the U.S.A. by Keystone on January 20, 1913.] * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * August 8, 1914 Mabel Normand PICTURES AND PICTUREGOER Myself--By The Sea-Side! A Seasonable Article Written Exclusively For This Journal by Mabel Normand (The Famous Keystone Comedienne) I have been asked to write about myself, and also about the seaside. Fancy that! Well, it is really very nice of you to want me to write about myself and about my experiences in the land of films and cameras, but I really feel much more like the seaside at the moment. I feel like being lazy, too, and not writing anything about anything! You see I am writing this on the sands. No; I won't tell you where, if you don't mind, because I'm having a very quiet holiday. Yes, I am writing this on the sands, and it's difficult work, apart from the fact that I do not find it particularly easy to talk so much about myself- -I'd hate you to think me conceited, so you won't, will you? Apart from that, I am trying to keep the writing-pad on my knee, the sun from my eyes, and the sheets of paper from blowing away out to sea. No; it's not easy. A moment ago a sweet little boy in a blue striped bathing-costume came up and threw a spadeful of sand in my lap--all over this article it went! Such fun! I nearly gave up the idea of writing it in despair, and decided to spend the rest of the time in playing with the little boy. He's such a dear, and I haven't been introduced to him yet either! Still, that doesn't matter at the seaside, does it? I simply adore building sand-castles! Still, my friends all over the world are all so very kind to me that I feel I must give just a little of my time to writing this, especially as the Editor asked for it so nicely. But what shall I say about myself and about the sea-side? How shall I begin? I shall be reduced to talking about the weather in a moment, I know I shall. But even the weather would be a "brilliant" subject to discuss today. Do you note the pun? You see, the sun is blazing down, the sky is of that tinge of blue that you can't look at without blinking your eyes, and the sea is--well, just divine!--sparkling and flashing all colours in the sunlight. I'm longing to thrown myself in the waves and have a jolly good swim. I'm going to, too, when I've finished writing to you. After my swim I shall have a sun-bath-- I love a sun-bath! Don't you? By the way, talking about the sea--we were, weren't we?--and writing this on the edge of the sea, has just reminded me of an adventure I had IN the sea. It wasn't a particularly pleasant adventure either. Still, they tell me that all you dear picturegoers love to hear about players' experiences, so I'll tell you this one. Don't get bored now, will you? You promise? First, you must know that I have won several prizes for swimming and high-diving at various aquatic exhibitions. I look a swimmess--or should it be -ist?--from the photograph I'm sending you, don't I? I had it taken on these very sands yesterday morning--well, as I was saying, luckily for me I really can take care of myself in the water. Even so, my friends, this fact did not prevent me having an unusually thrilling sea adventure whilst acting in a Keystone comedy that was called "Lizzie's Sacrifice." I shall never forget that title, for, although my name is not Lizzie (for which Heaven be praised), I was very nearly the "sacrifice" all right! Yes! The play--one of the usual Keystone burlesques, of course, in which I played with Mr. Ford Sterling, who has, as you know, now left us--was really good fun. I DID enjoy myself, for I love the sea so much, until what I'm going to tell you about happened. ("Well, for goodness' sake, get on with in, Miss Normand.") Very well, don't get huffy. You can't expect me to write calmly and coldly on such a glorious morning, can you?--especially as I'm sitting here almost covered with sand and longing to be in the sea. ("Are you going to tell us this adventure or not, Miss Normand?") My dear reader, if I promise faithfully that I WILL tell it, will you shut--I should say, will you keep quiet? ("It's all very well, but--") I know it's all very well, and look what a lot of type you're wasting arguing like this! Now in "Lizzie's Sacrifice" I was the heroine, and I was always being persecuted unmercifully by the great ugly villain, who carried a horrid revolver and wore a perfectly ridiculous little black beard. Of course, my real lover made gallant efforts to save me all this time. But I couldn't get away from that obnoxious villain with his nasty-smelling cigar. One day I was supposed to have wandered down to the sea-shore at a lonely spot, rapt, enraptured, and wrapt in meditations maidenly--you know, like a penny novelette heroine. But the rapt raptures in which I was enwrapt were rudely dispelled by the sudden advent of the ugly villain, who had followed me down to the lonely sea-shore. (Aren't we getting on with this story nicely?) Once more he pleaded his love with bended knee on the wetness of the sands. Once again I spurned him--you know, in the usual way that heroines spurn villains. Then he voiced a VEARFUL [sic] vengeance! He cried to the camera that he would tie me fast to a rock, and watch the tide creeping slowly up, up, up, up (you know how tides creep) until it smothered me and I was drowned--killed by a horrible drown! I pleaded, I prayed, I swore (in a ladylike way), but still my pleadings were of no avail. He was adamant--and several other things as well. So at low tied he hauled me down to the rock and tied me there with ropes--thick r-ropes in r-revenge! And with the tying of the ropes the scene was ended, the camera stopped clicking, and we all went to lunch. I sat next to the villain. At high tide we all went down to the rock again, and, getting into a boat, I was rowed out and again tied to the rock. Then the camera started again, and all the time the big waves were dashing over me. I was blinded by them, and could scarcely breathe. Whenever I tried to draw breath I was choked with more than a mouthful of nasty salt sea-water. (Note for young students: Sea-water is salt, and is not good to drink.) I had only a bathing-costume on under my thin summer frock, and I soon began to feel jolly cold--also wet. But the scene had to be taken, and the villain gloated until the hero and the Keystone police rushed up and struggled with him. All this time, remember, the sea had been dashing over my head, and the waves were getting bigger and bigger, until I was off my feet and only held upright by the ropes round my waist and arms. Suddenly, without so much as an apology, a huge wave lashed the rock and me with awful force, and to my horror I found myself being swept away in the backwash. The ropes had broken--all but the one that bound my arms! I was practically helpless in the rough sea. I struck out desperately with my feet, and then a big wave picked me up and I was dashed back against the rock and lost consciousness. When I came to my senses I was lying on the sand surrounded by my anxious fellow-players, and they were trying to get me to swallow brandy. My head and body were covered with cuts and nasty bruises. If they hadn't dragged me in just when they did, I should have been washed back by the next wave and drowned without a doubt. So, you see, even our screaming comedies have their dangers. Although I joke about it now, it wasn't very funny when it happened, believe me. Now, having, as I promised, related that adventure, I'll say good-bye (in this article, at least), and wish you all as jolly a holiday as I'm having. I'm just going to collect all these scattered pages, put them in an envelope addressed to the Editor (with a little letter I've written to him), and send the whole lot to the post, and then--well, my friends, then I'm going to get into the costume you see me wearing in the portrait and have a ripping swim. After that--to lunch. MABEL NORMAND. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * January 1, 1914 REEL LIFE One of the enjoyable events of the winter was the New Years Eve party given in the Country Club room Wednesday evening, December 31st. Mr. Thomas H. Ince. Vice-President and General Manager of the New York Motion Picture company, and Mr. Mack Sennett, President and General Manager of the Keystone Film Company, entertained fully three hundred leaders of the artists employed in their moving picture companies now wintering in Southern California. They were those whose faces are familiar to all who patronize the moving picture theatres and among them were some of the most prominent people in the moving picture world as well as those well known on the legitimate stage. The grounds were beautifully illuminated with Japanese lanterns and the rooms were handsomely decorated with natural flowers; a huge punch bowl was never empty although every possible attempt was made to reach the bottom of it. Music for dancing was furnished by a full string orchestra, with a quartet of cabaret entertainers and dancing was indulged in until long after the New Year had been welcomed. As old 1913 passed away the rooms were thrown into darkness and a huge firework set piece typifying the passing of 1913 with Old Father Time and his scythe and Cupid as 1914 was illuminated on the spacious lawn. Supper was served at which Mr. Ince acted as toastmaster and all that was good in 1913 was toasted and all that was expected of 1914 wished for in toasts which were drunk standing and the absent ones were not forgotten, for while the orchestra played "Auld Lang Syne," toasts were drunk to Messrs. Baumann, Kessel, Hite and Aitken. Among those present, well known in the theatrical world as well as filmdom, were George Osborne, Walter Belasco, Hershell Mayall, David M. Hartford, Charles Giblyn, Walter Edwards, Herbert Standing, Mabel Normand, Anna Little, Louis Morrison, Jay Hunt, Thomas Chatterton, Richard Stanton, Ford Sterling, Clara Williams, Rhea Mitchell, Gertrude Claire, Fannie Midgley and many others. It was indeed one of the most enjoyable events that has ever been held in the Country Club rooms, and those of the City's residents who were honored with invitations will remember the occasion with much pleasure. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * June 13, 1914 MOVIE PICTORIAL The Rivals Ever since the day when Marie Dressler gave up being a queen of the stage to become a Keystone comedienne, she and Mabel Normand, the Queen of the Movies, have been bitter rivals. It began, they say, with dressing rooms. There is only one "first" dressing room, and while Mabel Normand ought to have it by right of priority of occupancy, on the other hand, Miss Dressler ought to have it by right of superiority of size. From dressing rooms it graduated--fostered and featured by all the local papers--to salaries: from salaries to maids; from maids to Pomeranians; and from Pomeranians to motor cars. Everyone breathed easier. Here at last was something that might be settled. When it was rumored shortly afterward that Miss Normand and Miss Dressler had decided to demonstrate the merits of their respective cars--also their driving--by racing against each other at Ascot Park at Santa Monica, the various members of the company began drawing their salaries in advance to back their favorites. The Day arrived. Miss Normand was there with her high power Bear Cat Stutz, while Miss Dressler drove a Fiat. Many fans were there but the weather made a postponement necessary. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * July 4, 1914 REEL LIFE Mabel Normand, the strikingly beautiful Keystone comedienne, is a young woman who works with all her might and main, and is distinguished also by her capacity for making the finest sort of friends. Not long ago, Nina Wilcox Putnam--leader of the movement among American women to emancipate their sex from slavish imitation of Paris fashions and to form an independent wing who shall stand for originality in dress--became much interested in Miss Normand's work. She invited Inez Haynes Gillmore, the writer, whose home is in San Francisco, to go with her to the Keystone studios to meet Miss Normand. There they had the good fortune to be allowed to witness a photo comedy play in production. It is seldom that Mack Sennett admits visitors to the stage. He made an exception, however, in the case of these two distinguished women, who had made the journey to Los Angeles out of sheer interest in the leading woman of his company. Both were even more delighted with Miss Normand in real life than one the screen. They were astonished at the amount of slap-bank, rough and tumble action she was able to put into the piece, while still impressing one with the fact the she is a young woman of natural dignity, refinement and charming manners. Their visit to the studios has resulted in a warm friendship between them and Miss Normand. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * September 12, 1914 PICTURES AND PICTUREGOER Mabel Normand, of the Keystone, is learning aviation from Walter Brookin, the permanent Keystone aviator, and has made three flights alone, driving the machine herself. Miss Normand hopes to soon be able to do the loop, when a motion picture will be made. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * May 15, 1915 PICTURES AND PICTUREGOER How these players do enjoy themselves! The other night a big American exhibitor visiting Los Angeles gave a banquet to the Keystone players, and after it the players gave an impromptu show of their own. Fatty Arbuckle sang several selections, Ford Sterling recited a German dialect story, Syd Chaplin gave a Cockney dialect recitation, while Mabel Normand demonstrated the latest society dances. Appropriate favours were at each guest's place, Mabel Normand being given a miniature diving Venus; Ford Sterling a stuffed doll; Roscoe Arbuckle a doll representing a fat boy; Chester Conklin a saw and saw-buck; Harry McCoy a "snookums"--his nickname among the players; Minta Durfee a kewpie doll; Mark Swain a miniature ambrose, and Syd Chaplin a k'nut. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * April 27, 1918 EXHIBITOR'S TRADE REVIEW Mabel Normand Scores Germans in Dinner Talk Mabel Normand, the Goldwyn star, delivered a patriotic address in the parlor of the Hotel Mason, at Jacksonville, Florida, the other night. About thirty-five officers from Camp Johnston with hundreds of hotel guests listened to Miss Normand score the Germans. The star had the army officers as her guests at dinner, but the cheering that followed her after-dinner remarks brought the hotel guests flocking to hear the balance of her speech. Miss Normand was in Florida to retake a number of scenes for "Joan of Plattsburg," and finding one of her Plattsburg soldier-officers at Camp Johnston, she insisted on having a party * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * June 1918 David Raymond PHOTO-PLAY WORLD The Tragic Side of Mabel Normand Obtaining an Interview Under Difficulties "Miss Mabel Normand will pretend to be glad to see you when you call on her at four o'clock, Monday afternoon. She will not be acting that day in her new Goldwyn picture, so the art of simulation will be lavished all on you. Miss Normand will pretend perfectly that she is glad you have chosen to seek her out and invade the privacy of her apartment. "Miss Normand will act precisely as if she never had been interviewed before, and will blush and simper and beg you to publish her latest photograph. In fact, Miss Normand will not be herself at all, for she knows that you will much prefer to write of her as an animated doll squeaking opinions someone else has thought for her, tucked in a doll's house and wearing doll's clothes, lacy and baby blue. "In return for this perfect interview Miss Normand makes ten stipulations, as follows: "1. That you do not say she owns gold furniture. "2. Nor that she is whirled hither and thither in a tufted limousine. "3. Nor that she has a dog. "4. That you do not mention the hundreds of letters she receives. "5. That you do not say she adores acting in pictures. "6. That you omit descriptions of her clothes. "7. That you refrain from saying she loves sports and all-outdoors. "8. That you do not advertise her tremendous war work. "9. That you do not credit her with interest in sociology and world politics. "10. That you do not reveal her passion for the works of Edith Wharton, Mrs. Humphry Ward and Joseph Conrad. "P.S.--In making these stipulations Miss Normand realizes she is snatching away the props of your profession, for who ever heard of an interview with out at least six of these mainstays? However, if you still wish to come Miss Normand will be at home for ten minutes. Moreover, Miss Normand DARES you to come. Please sign and return, special delivery, if Miss Normand is to reserve the time for you." The foregoing, typed on thick creamy paper, placed in the uncertain hands of The Photo-Play World's experienced social expert, was not calculated to give him confidence in himself. But regard for Miss Normand's originality was at least established. The agreement signed and dispatched he found himself at the appointed time in the home of Mischievous Mabel, the Naughty Normand. Never mind where the domicile is situated, or if the rugs are pink or blue. Or if the effect is that of Sybaritic luxury or ascetic plainness. It was her home and it was good to be there. She was seated on a settee, reading The New York Evening Post. "Hello!--but first excuse me for seeming to wait for you. I know it's bad form for the subject of your interview not to be heralded by a 'secretary' and a couple of maids," said the Normand, tossing aside the paper. I saw what had been absorbing her, a drawing by Fontaine Fox. "I like that man's funnies," she volunteered, catching my glance. "You don't think I READ the paper, do you?" and she trailed off into merry laughter. "But I do like the dictionary--it looks so well among my other books. They are dummies and the dictionary is the only real thing among them. The cook loves to get the correct spelling of the things she makes." Miss Normand looked at me out of eyes which need no description to photoplay enthusiasts. They are shadowed by lashes absurdly long and curling. The light shines through these lashes like sunbeams filigreed under a rose-smothered pergola. Her eyes were not a subject forbidden in her manifesto, so I am within my rights in phrasing their beauty after the mode of Elinor Glyn. "What are your serious interests, Miss Normand, outside the dictionary and the newspaper funnies?" "Men," she answered, without a moment's hesitation. "I think they're the most serious things in the world. Especially when they tell me how beautiful I am. Then the pathos of their position is so acute I am moved to pity--when I want so much to smile. "They are also a serious problem when they explain the mistakes made by other men in doing what they themselves know they could do better--such as commanding armies, controlling food distribution and directing my screen production." Whereupon Miss Normand glanced at the clock, a large alarm one, standing on her writing desk, and continued. "One feels kindly toward such men--all men, in fact"--this last with a merciful, Portia-like smile--"because they are so serious and because they are such an important element in life. One can't escape them: they are everywhere. Why, only this morning a man called to manicure me. Now, that we have women munitions workers and women conductors and elevator operators, one feels that men will get their chance in professions from which they have been barred." "But Miss Normand," I put in, anxious to touch upon a less gloomy topic, "what is causing you to smile these days? After your happy return to the screen in 'Dodging a Million' you must find much to make you lighthearted." "Nothing more delicious than my collections of sayings uttered by friends among film stars." With this she went over to her desk. Mabel Normand's walk is something I have long delighted in. It is a gay, impudent kind of walk. She does not swing along, or mince, or skip. She saunters in the inimitable manner of the Mabel Normand. She brought back a kid-bound book. "This is what amuses me most--the commonplaces voiced by people who should know better. Take this for example. 'I think woman's highest destiny is motherhood and the home,' which was confided to me by a certain internationally famous woman. And, 'every woman uses her sex in one way or another.' I love that just as I love the girl who made the discovery, another experienced star. 'What is there to write of poor little me?' is one of the best in my collection. The speaker is a girl who is always glad to give the newspapers more copy than they ever can use." Miss Normand closed the book with a snap. "No, I can't tell you who the speakers were. That would make the remarks too funny to be good for you." Determined to get at the real Mabel Normand, the girl whose sober thoughts must be as interesting as her merry moods, I asked a question. "Nothing in the world is more vital to me at this moment than--chocolate cake," she declared. "I am expecting a four-storied one from the only shop I trust--or that will trust me. But there is a maddening doubt in connection with it." I looked concerned. "Will it or will it not, I ask myself," she went on, "be iced on the sides as well as the top? The sugar shortage forces economy and I have been warned to expect the worst." At this moment the clock burst into shrill alarm. It wobbled over the mahogany surface of the desk. "Your ten minutes--" Miss Normand announced, smiling cordially and rising to her full height of five feet, "are up. Please go. I must be alone when the chocolate cake arrives. With great sorrows or great joys I seek solitude. I am not like other girls, you understand." There was nothing to say then; there is nothing more to say now. Except that Mabel Normand's manner was serious throughout the interview. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * August 1918 PICTURES AND PICTUREGOER Storms, Chocolate Cakes, and Vampires Her Delight! "I love dark, windy days and chocolate cake," Mabel Normand announced with perfect gravity, "and storms when houses blow down." There was no hint of mischief or make-believe in the famous Normand eyes. They are even lovelier than the screen ever discloses, and the lashes curl upward more than the film can let one see. We had called to interview the popular little lady for PICTURES, but ten minutes had passed and so far we had not been able to put to her a single question. She did most of the talking. "Chocolate cake," she went on, "is the one thing I never get. People always keep it from me. That's why I've decided it is my favourite food. "But I never eat it--or anything else--when I am acting. Food makes me too contented." She yawned lazily over her coffee. "And I don't want to be lazy any more. A year of rest is enough for any one. Now I want to come back--really back!" We expect you know that Mabel is now a Goldwyn comedienne; the Stoll Film Company will in due course release her first Goldwyn picture, "Dodging a Million," in which our Mabel makes a welcome return to the screen. We reminded her that she had no place to "come back" from--that she has stayed in the affections of picturegoers ever since the early days of Biograph. Because of her innate sense of the comic, Mabel Normand cannot be serious wholeheartedly. If she casts down her eyes, it is to shut out a demure parting glance. If she closes her lips tightly, the corners go up, and you know she is laughing silently. She is the true spirit of mischief. Early in the chat we gave up all hope of putting a question to her--or, rather, of recording an answer. For no reason at all, the comedienne began to tear a daisy apart, petal by petal. "I adore daisies," she declared, with closed lids and head tilted to one side. "They are my favourite flowers when I visit a flower shop-- alone. If I am accompanied--by a man--I just love orchids." The diminutive actress looked significantly at the inexpensive flowers in her hand. "But, of course, orchids are really too 'vampish' for me. And that," she said pointedly, "brings us to the subject of Retribution with a capital R. "I mean vampires, especially screen 'vamps.' They have taught me a great life lesson. Retribution always pounces on the purple lady toward the end of the picture. She gets exactly what she gives. That's why I decided to be good. "Don't you think motion pictures educate the masses? See how the vampire lady made me be good?" The brown eyes were raised--then sparkled roguishly. "Tell me this, if you can. Why do plays called 'The Drama of a Woman's Soul' always mean that the woman gets the worst of it in the end? Why is that?" Miss Normand waited for an answer to her quaint question. "You didn't know I went in for deep thinking, did you? Don't be afraid, I never go deeper. "People don't laugh enough. Especially men, when they get middle-aged, and very important, and wear fur coats and silk hats in the morning, and motor to work. They are afraid to laugh for fear people will think they're not on the job. "It is my task to make even these unfortunates laugh, but I don't expect a lot of thanks. People enjoy laughter, but they're not grateful for it. They forget. They never forget sadness, or the actor who makes them weep. "Which reaches the heart more surely, tears or laughter? I wonder if being a cook and making chocolate cakes isn't better than either?"... Mabel Normand is superstitious. She always carries a tiny ivory elephant as a talisman. Though she never wears them on the screen, she owns wonderful jewels. Her favourite is a chain of diamonds suspending the smallest platinum watch in the world. Raymond Hitchcock and Mrs. Hitchcock (Flora Zabelle) are her closest friends. They advise her whenever she considers a contract. She is very fond of beautiful clothes and means always to wear pretty things on the screen in future as in "Dodging a Million." In spite of her merry smile and laughing eyes, Mabel is very temperamental. Trifles trouble her and she weeps with any friend who tells a hard luck story. Her ambition is to go to Paris after the war for two years. She declares she wants to study languages and music "and things." Then she wishes to appear on the stage, though never has she spoken in public. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * May 1920 Truman B. Handy PHOTO-PLAY WORLD Mabelescent Which, Although Unclassified, Typifies the Normand Naivete You won't find the word "mabelescent" in the dictionary because it isn't there. Nor is it of common usage. it was invented especially to fit Mabel Normand, simply because there isn't any other phrase at all indigenous to the vivacious one. And everybody on the "lot" is using it. The impulsive Miss Normand expresses herself as "flattered;" says that it pleases her to have a word coined in her honor. But in the case of "mabelescent" the coining wasn't an honor; it was a necessity, or so I am told. "Oh, cootie." It sounded very sweet, but somewhat uncertain, and not knowing to what the feminine voice referred, we at once drew conclusion, having heard of the various varieties of tricks so catalogued by our returned soldier friends. The owner of the voice was nowhere in evidence, and we had vivid mental pictures of some downtrodden "extra" girl with a burning ambition to get ahead, receiving a directorial rebuke or something. But there wasn't a soul in sight, except a petite person, whom we found around the corner of a "set" who was dressed in a cotton nightgown of voluminous folds and wrinkles, who wore a funny little hat over her left ear, a pair of Number Six shoes and a man's overcoat. Her hair was "just thrown together," as she explained to us, she imagined she had a cold, and she was playing with a funny little kitten with large, blue saucer eyes--the "cootie" in question. And not to forget our sense of comic values may it be observed that Miss Normand, as the trig person in the nightgown proved to be, was enjoying her leisure in a luxurious studio drawing-room, roofed with glass and canvas, its drab-colored walls hung with drapes of dark brown velvet, renaissance furniture lending eclat to the atmosphere, and a large, bear-skin rug furnishing a foot-warmer for the gaminesque, mabelescent creature before us. "Oh," she greeted us. "This is a shock. Cootie, behave yourself. I don't like familiarity, not even from cats." Miss Normand is a distinct surprise, one of those interesting persons who talk about woman suffrage, who is as human as everybody around her, who likes ham and eggs and corn beef and cabbage like all the rest of us, and who, behind the mask of make-up, is a real woman, a "good scout," as the studio hands term her. One of the latter vouchsafed a certain amount of information concerning her. It seems that when she drew her first five hundred dollars for a week's work before the camera some season ago she was quite upset, and wore a perplexed look about the studio. She seemed uneasy, and after various intimate conversations with her associates, proceeded downtown to purchase a car. At the gate she met a number of the men extras, who greeted her familiarly as "Mabel," one of whom noticed her apparent discomfort. "What AM I going to do with this money?" she asked him in reply to his question. "I never can spend it, not even if I buy a motor." Whereupon she at once proceeded to distribute it, in denominations of tens and twenties, to her less fortunate brothers of the studio. "I couldn't run a car if I had one," she remarked during the distribution process, "and I don't like a man in uniform perched on the front seat." At the studios they will tell you that Miss Normand is impulsive, generous, spontaneous, which the following will illustrate. In one of her productions, "When Doctors Disagree," the company was on location at a reform school near Los Angeles. Miss Normand, the director and the remainder of the workers had been "shooting" for a short time in the spacious grounds, when it was noticed that a number of the boys of the institution were watching Miss Normand. Shortly after lunch one little fellow, slipping away from his associates, commenced to pick a bouquet of flowers from the garden. However, every time an austere-looking guard was seen to approach, the child would hide the bunch of blooms behind his back, resuming his flower gathering when apparently unobserved. Miss Normand watched him with interest, and was on the verge of speaking to him when she noticed a larger boy steal up behind him and snatch the bunch from his hand. At once he proceeded to Miss Normand, and handed it to her, at which the younger boy commenced to cry, thus attracting the guard's attention. He was severely reprimanded for picking the flowers, while the other boy was probably put in solitary confinement for his offense. Meanwhile, however, the various other inmates of the school completely gleaned the garden and hedges of their blooms, piling them in Miss Normand's car. She tried to pity the first offender by offering him sort of gift, only to learn that he could receive nothing, but that perhaps the guards would let him keep a photograph. The next day a second surprise was accorded the school when Miss Normand arrived in her car, bearing in one hand a photograph in a splendid silver frame, and in the other a permit from the county authorities to take the juvenile offender for a motor ride. Miss Normand has probably had as varied a career as anyone in motion pictures. She first appeared before the camera in the never-to-be-forgotten Keystones, in which she won for herself the reputation of being the first screen comedienne to have an unflagging sense of comedy, a beautiful face and a cast-iron constitution. Off-stage Miss Normand is beautiful, with an exquisite natural color in her face, curly hair of soft black, and large, expressive brown eyes. She wears extremely modish clothes, but the screen seems to demand that she be a gamin. And by nature she is not a gamin. When her comedy make-up is off she looks and acts like any other healthy, pretty American woman who does her own shopping, casts her own vote and is otherwise herself and no one else. Because she is a comique, she is thought of as hoyendish. Miss Normand's gravity is far more compelling than her seriousness. She is always amusing, and funniest when she tries to be serious. She has a philosophy all of her own, namely, that God is good, American is Arcady, motion pictures are the greatest thing in life, and her mother is the most wonderful person in the world. Which latter fact shows that her heart is still in the right place. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * November 27, 1920 Elsie Codd PICTURES AND PICTUREGOER Sidelights on the Stars: Mabel Normand To begin with, I think that one of the nicest things I ever heard said about Mabel Normand came from a girl who had worked with her at the Sennett Studio in the old Keystone days. "Mabel's just the same now as she used to be," she told me. "She's got the biggest heart in the whole wide world, and there's not an 'extra' girl who knows her who doesn't think her the dearest thing that ever happened." Then this Normand enthusiast went on to tell me that, though her own knowledge of Mabel had been limited to just a mere passing acquaintanceship, she knew of dozens of girls--little nonentities all, at five dollars per diem- -whom Mabel had helped when they were sick or stranded for a job, and how she would frequently give the last bill in her own weekly pay-envelope to enable a girl to buy the new frock that she needed for some special part. "And the best and finest thing about her," my little friend concluded, "is that success hasn't spoilt this big generous heart of hers a tiny bit. Of course, she's earning ever so much more now than she did in those early days, but a bigger salary just means to Mabel that she's now able to give away more than she could conveniently manage in the old times and sort of act as an offset to the high cost of living. And she's still the best friend in the world of the little unknown extra 'girl.'" And I should like to add at this juncture that you only need to hear all the kind things moving-picture people usually have to say about each other to thoroughly appreciate this loyal and unsolicited testimony of Mabel Normand's fellow-workers. Mabel herself just strikes you that way. Though very "petite," she somehow conveys the impression of something big. She seems bubbling over with life and vivacity, and is the sort of girl you can readily imagine would invariably act on a first generous impulse. In her white silk skirt, dark- blue jersey and chic little dark-blue hat, she looked the real capable out-of- doors girl she is, and at the same time, in spite of a subtle suggestion of the tomboy, adorably feminine. She has a natural instinct for dressing suitably and well. I remember one day how a movie queen of the newly-rich type passed me on the Hollywood Boulevard driving her own sumptuously upholstered car in a Parisian semi-evening gown, a cloud of gauze and a large feather hat. Then hot on her track, Mabel whizzed past in defiance of every speed law in a neat little runabout, attired in a smartly tailored suit, and a neat closely fitting turban. It needed but a glimpse of the two faces to realise which of those girls was getting the most fun out of her ride. It is almost superfluous to say that Mabel is the life and soul of the company with whom she happens to be working. Back in the old Sennett days, she used to burst into the studio of a morning with her cheery "Hello, girls and boys!" like an exhilarating breeze of a bright shaft of April sunshine. Possibly the atmosphere of most of the big studios has grown a bit more formal since those early days, but Mabel herself hasn't altered. Her morning greeting is still the same and there is a fine spirit of genuine "camaraderie" in her little working circle, a spirit that is not often found in the bustle and petty jealousies of a modern moving-picture studio. It would require something in the nature of a catalogue to enumerate Mabel's numerous interests and hobbies. Everybody knows that she can dive and swim in the best Kellerman manner, also that she can rope a horse and ride a bucking bronco to the respected envy and admiration of every cowpuncher in Southern California. She has a whole menagerie of animal pets, and owns that if she adds any more to her collection she will have to board them out at Universal City or at Colonel Selig's famous Zoo. It was only recently that she was frustrated in a passionate desire to add a monkey to her already somewhat heterogeneous collection. Mabel is not the type of girl whose interests are all in one groove. She is as fond of reading as she is of the outdoor life, and the books you will find in her library are not the kind you would usually associate with a comedy queen. Without being in the least bit obtrusively "highbrow," Mabel has a preference for such writers as Shaw and Balzac. Complete editions of their works are to be found on her well-stocked bookshelves, and she doesn't use her books as a receptacle for her letters or shopping-lists either. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * December 25, 1920 PICTURES AND PICTUREGOER [from an interview with Roscoe Arbuckle]..."Those days of the 'Fatty and Mabel' comedies were great days," remarked Fatty Arbuckle. "We hadn't much money, but we sure did see life. We used to walk to our locations, carrying our props in bags and baskets, because we couldn't afford to hire cars. So long as the light lasted we worked, never worrying about eating or anything like that. What are you smiling at? I'm telling you. It's a wonder I didn't turn into a living skeleton. But--great days--great days."... * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * September 14, 1921 NEW YORK JOURNAL Mrs. Minta Durfee Arbuckle, wife of Roscoe Arbuckle, film comedian, under arrest in San Francisco in connection with the death of Miss Virginia Rappe, is well on her way today to join her husband on the coast. Before leaving she reiterated her belief in her husband's innocence... Miss Durfee, or Mrs. Arbuckle, as she prefers to be known, was in the apartment of her sister, Mrs. H. D. McLean, of No. 316 West Ninety Seventh Street, prior to the five-day journey which will take her to the San Francisco jail in which "Fatty" is locked up charged with murder... Mabel Normand, motion picture actress, who is stopping at the Ritz- Carlton Hotel, was one who telephoned Mrs. Arbuckle, expressing sympathy... * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * December 1921 CAPT. BILLY'S WHIZ BANG Mabel Normand went off on a farm in Vermont last winter and drank milk until she could again ask her friends how one could lose weight. Just now, a distinguished looking gentleman with gray hair is trotting Mabel about to the dance emporiums. [This is certainly a reference to William Desmond Taylor.] * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * June 1922 CAPT. BILLY'S WHIZ BANG Mabel Normand entertained a half dozen friends at a box party to see "The London Follies," March 5th, just one month after William D. Taylor's death. She also attended the races at the Los Angeles Speedway the following Sunday, where she giggled all afternoon with a group of girl friends, went down into the auto pits to talk with the drivers and pretty generally enjoyed herself. On the following evening she was again seen dancing at the Cocoanut Grove at the Ambassador. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * April 10, 1922 NEW YORK TELEGRAPH Have Not Canceled; Says Miss Normand Los Angeles--Mabel Normand and John Waldron, manager of the Mack Sennett studios, today denied a report current in screen circles in the East that the comedienne had accepted $40,000 to cancel her contract with the Sennett corporation. Notoriety gained by Miss Normand in connection with the Taylor case was said to be responsible for the rumored story, Waldron said. "How long does Miss Normand's present contract run?" he was asked. Waldron declined to answer. The present picture in which Miss Normand is starring--"Suzanna"--will be completed in a few weeks, it was said at the Mack Sennett studios. Miss Normand will leave for a vacation at that time, Waldron said. She plans to visit Europe. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * August 1922 CAPT. BILLY'S WHIZ BANG It was rumored that Prince Mohammed All Ibraham, who recently came from Egypt to visit New York, was soon to wed Mabel Withee, Broadway musical star, the Prince having bestowed on Mabel a diamond platinum plaque valued at many thousands of dollars. However, it seems the King of the Pharaohs broke a date with Mabel recently and has been bestowing admiring glances elsewhere. It is said that the Prince is "sweet" on Mabel Normand, too, and that Mabel recently wired the Prince that she was soon coming east and "not to fall in love with anybody else before she arrived." Mabel Normand always could smell diamonds from afar! * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * June 9, 1922 Louella Parsons NEW YORK TELEGRAPH With reservations all booked for the Aquitania, it is high time Mabel Normand is arriving here if she expects to sail June 13. She is due this morning, having spent a part of yesterday in Chicago, where she was interviewed by the newspapers on the William Desmond Taylor murder. She said in an interview she expected to consult Mr. Sennett in New York, and her plans depended largely upon his verdict. If he told her to go back to the coast she would return immediately and begin work, while if he said she should stay in the East she would follow his instructions. One of the evening papers carried an interview with Miss Normand and spoke of her as sadder since her unpleasant experience in the Taylor case. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * June 14, 1922 NEW YORK TELEGRAPH Mabel Normand Sails Quietly on Aquitania Sailing quietly, her departure known only to a few intimate friends, Mabel Normand, film star, was one of the cabin passengers on the Aquitania of the Cunard Line, which left the foot of West Fourteenth street yesterday for Cherbourg and Southampton. With her was a friend, Miss Juliet Courtial [sic]. Miss Normand did not reach the slip until just a few minutes before the sailing hour and parried all questions asked as to the shooting of Taylor, the film director. "Please don't discuss that," she said. "I've been running away from it for months. That is one of the reasons I am going away to get a rest." She said she was going to London to meet her mother and would also go to Paris and Berlin. She said she would have sailed on June 6, but while making the film "Suzanne," a Spanish picture, holy Week intervened and no work was done on the picture during that time. She said she would return in August and start work in September on another picture in Los Angeles. She was on the passenger list as Miss Mabel "Norman." * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * August 6, 1922 Ormsby Burton NEW YORK TELEGRAPH London, July 19--Mabel Normand has been to London, and she could have had as much publicity as that given here to Mary Pickford, had she wanted it. But she preferred to keep out of the limelight, mainly because she expected everybody would be wanting her to tell all she knew about the murder of William D. Taylor. While in London therefore she declined dinners and interviews as much as possible, and just went about seeing the sights and buying things. From London she went to Paris, where in one of the very few interviews she has given she told a reporter that she was enamored of London, that she loved its policemen and its climate, and that she was "going right back there" as soon as she could. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * August 20, 1922 Ormsby Burton NEW YORK TELEGRAPH London, August 4--Mabel Normand, when she arrived in London, made it clear to her interviewers that she was not engaged to be married and that she had no present thought of getting married. On the top of this pronouncement came the report that she had betrothed herself to Prince Ibrahim. This she now denies with equal emphasis. She is not engaged to any one, she says. There is some hustle about Mabel Normand. The other day she was in a hurry to get to Paris. She reached the London office of the Lep Aerial to book an aeroplane seat for the Gay City, only to find that the last passenger auto to the aerodrome for the last aeroplane to France that day had gone. But a special car was rushed to the air station and she arrived just in time to leap aboard the flying machine. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * September 1922 Elsie Codd PICTURES AND PICTUREGOER Seeing Limehouse with Mabel As everybody knows, Mabel Normand is a world-famous film comedienne. To be strictly accurate, she is THE most famous film comedienne, for as "Keystone Mabel," she had romped her joyous way to her stardom before most of her fellow twinklers were even heard of. And, being a comedienne, Mabel is just naturally rather an unexpected little person, chockful of surprises. Most lady film stars who treat themselves to that long-promised trip to little old Europe usually travel whit whole trunkfuls of scrumptious feminine garments, incidentally allowing a few empty ones as well for a visit to Paris. The London porters must have found Mabel's baggage uncommonly heavy to handle, for most of HER trunks were filled with books, and not of the light variety at that. So it didn't surprise me in the least, when I looked in to see her at the Ritz, to find her, as usual, buried in a book. "You're just in time," she greeted me. "I've ordered the taxi, and we're going right down to Chinatown to see all these wonderful things I've been reading about." I picked up the book from the chaise-lounge to look at the title, "Limehouse Nights," by Thomas Burke. "Do it right now" is a typically American motto; and I am tempted to believe it must have originated with Mabel. She told me whilst she adjusted a smart little turban and scrambled into wrap that she had just been re-reading some of the stories, and felt she "couldn't wait another minute." We drove through the glittering West End thoroughfares, with all of their jolly traffic and the bustle of a great city preparing for its evening's amusement, whilst Mabel gaily chatted at my side, telling me sketchily what she had been doing since her arrival in England. Then we crossed one of the bridges and plunged into that darker London which lies to the south side of the river. Followed an interminable ride through a bewildering maze of mean and dimly-lighted streets, till at last the car slowed down in what seemed to be some main thoroughfare between Pennyfields and Limehouse Causeway. "We'd better get out now and walk," our escort suggested. "A car in these parts is likely to attract too much attention. I'll tell the driver to wait for us here." We wandered up the Causeway, then back again down Pennyfields towards the river. London's Chinatown is rather an unpretentious affair compared with that of Los Angeles, where there is a beautiful temple tucked away behind a maze of crooked streets, and where some of the little restaurants have their balconies so brightly decorated that you can almost imagine yourself under Eastern instead of Western skies. Limehouse has an atmosphere all its own. The unfathomable spirit of the East broods over its drab streets and narrow alleys. A little Chinese two-year-old was seated on a doorstep in Pennyfields, the only touch of youth and freshness we saw in those mean streets. She was dressed in a spotless suit of white "rompers" and was mothering a Teddy bear, much like any British baby. "Isn't she just cute, the darling!" Mabel cried, and stopped for a little chat. For a moment the Teddy bear was forgotten, whilst the child appraised her visitor with a pair of solemn eyes. She evidently didn't understand a word of what Mabel was saying, but she must have decided that it was something nice, for gradually the little face crinkled into a smile, and the chubby fingers clutched at something bright and sparkling on Mabel's dress. Babies, after all, are much the same all the world over. We finished up the evening with a Chinese restaurant. Mabel isn't the sort of person who is content with a superficial impression of the mere outside of things. She wanted to see a real Limehouse "interior," and she wasn't going back to the Ritz until she had seen what she wanted. Diplomatically our escorted steered us back to the less dimly-lighted thoroughfare, where a policeman stood on guard, and halted before a small eating-house. A brief argument ensued on the subject of Miss Normand's jewelry. The expedition had been undertaken entirely on the spur of the moment, and the man of the party was at some pains to convince her that, though diamonds are all very well at the Ritz, it was but reasonable to suppose that a certain element of risk was entailed by wearing them in Limehouse. Mabel, however, thought otherwise, and absolutely declined to entertain any suggestion that she should "pop them into her handbag" by way of precaution. So far, she had remained unrecognised, but during this little discussion I noticed that two small street arabs had crept up and were staring at Mabel with very suspicious interest. "It's Mybel!" ejaculated the one in a whisper, hoarse with suppressed excitement. "T'ayn't!" The other was trying hard to sound skeptical, though obviously half-convinced. "I tell yer it is!" Two small noses were immediately flattened against the window when we took our seats at the plain deal table inside. After a time they disappeared. The owners had evidently pattered away to impart the "scoop" to their friends. The sensation of the evening, in fact, was provided by Chinatown's Cockney population. Those two small boys had not neglected their opportunity. On leaving the restaurant, Mabel found herself suddenly hailed with a delighted "Mybel! Mybel! Hello, Mybel!" A small crowd had assembled and had been eagerly waiting for her to re- appear. They were not by any means a classy or fashionable gathering, but they gave their screen idol a right royal welcome, bombarding her with questions. "What's it like in America, Mybel?" "Is Mybel yer real name?" "How old are yer?" And there was no getting Mabel away from them. We should never have got her back to the Ritz that night if the good-natured policeman, who had hitherto discreetly looked another way, had not eventually decided that it was high time to save her from her friends. They gave her a cheer as the taxi slowly moved away, and she waved them a last good-bye. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * September 8, 1922 Louella Parsons NEW YORK TELEGRAPH Europe having received the thrill of its life in the appearance of Mabel Normand at Deauville and other famous places, the young lady is now on her way home. She sailed yesterday on the Majestic, and if she cares to write her experience she will have plenty to tell. Mabel always gets the most out of every adventure. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * September 13, 1922 NEW YORK TELEGRAPH [interview with Mabel Normand on her arrival from Europe] ...Mabel Normand said she had been away six weeks, most of the time in Paris, resting. She was now ready to go West after a stay of a week in New York to begin making a picture with an English scenario, its name yet undecided, but something on the order of "Molly O." During the voyage she appeared each day in the big swimming pool on the Majestic, which she praised highly. Did she have a gallery? She did. She was surprised, she said, to learn that Roscoe Arbuckle had not progressed in the settlement of his affairs before the public and she was pained to learn of his illness in China. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * September 17, 1922 NEW YORK TELEGRAPH Mabel Hee-Hees at Perry's Suit A legal battle of much warmth is promised tomorrow when Mabel Normand, the vivacious film star, answers to the suit of Perry M. Charles, her former press agent, for a matter of $2,940 back salary and several hundred dollars expenses, which he alleges is due him. On Friday a deputy sheriff attached several trunks of new gowns, which the actress brought back with her from her recent trip to Paris, and also commandeered all of Miss Normand's jewelry, now reposing in the safe of the Hotel Ambassador, where the star is living during her stay in New York. In the meanwhile nobody seems to know just what Miss Normand is doing to oppose the suit. She refused consistently to be interviewed yesterday on any point of the action, saying she knew nothing of it. Miss Normand's gowns may have been attached, but there was no evidence of it yesterday, when she flitted through the lobby of the Ambassador. The star was clothed in white from head to toe. Of what material the gown was composed the reporter who was sent to interview her could not determine. He caught only a fleeting glimpse. He probably wouldn't have known anyway. The actress was very loath to talk. The reporter, talking from the lobby to Miss Normand in her suite, was told she didn't know anything about the affair. After a short conversation, however, she decided to come down to the lobby to talk the matter over. After a time, Miss Normand did come down, but escorted by a young man. She started out as the reporter arose to speak. Seeing him, she turned nervously, giggled and ran out to her automobile on the arm of her companion. Miss Normand's predicament is due to the suit brought by Charles, after he found "honeyed words" didn't pay him for his work. According to his charges, she has failed to pay him for his work with anything more tangible than a series of telegrams filled with pleasant words. He decided good cheer was a poor substitute for dollars, and now seeks $2,940 in back salary and several hundred dollars for expenses. Charles admits receiving some money for his offices in Miss Normand's behalf, but declares it was very little, and nothing to what he was entitled to. "Men must live," is the opinion of Charles, and when a press agent gives up a perfectly good job as publicity man for a musical comedy to undertake the same sort of work for a film star, he expects to be paid. Charles submitted to the court several telegrams he said were sent him by the actress. He said he was in Toronto last April when Miss Normand, who was in Los Angeles, wired him: "Perry Dear--Wire me collect your plan. Received wire this A. M. Wonderful if you are in England when I arrive to meet me. Without you I will be lost. Love and thanks to the Tates. Is Harry (Tate) paying your passage? Wire details. If you need money, wire me. When do you sail? Might be able to go along. Want you to work for me. Anything you say goes about salary. Might be better your going ahead to fix things up, then return to America with me. London, Paris, Berlin, etc. When arrive New York will telephone you. Love, Mabel." Charles submitted another telegram he says he got on May 9 as follows: "Perry Dear--Can I phone you anywhere and at what time Wednesday? Send me straight wire. Also insist upon paying for phone. You are beloved by me. Telephone me Wilshire 7226. Love, Perry, always." Charles alleges that he considered himself employed and sailed from Montreal for Southampton. He did some preliminary work for her there, he says, and when she arrived later introduced her to theatrical, dramatic and sporting editors, reporters and others. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * October 28, 1922 EXHIBITOR'S TRADE REVIEW [from a speech of Will Rogers, delivered on October 13, 1922 to the Associated Motion Picture Advertisers in New York]..."Not a woman in New York City--I don't except any one--does more quiet charitable work than Mabel Normand. There never was a list, whether for the benefit of an injured stage hand or electrician or for some larger and more general purpose, that Mabel didn't head. I don't say these things from any personal bias. We held a big charitable affair out there which Mr. Frohman put on and which was attended by all the big stars, but Mabel Normand got the biggest reception of any one." * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * November 12, 1922 Myrtle Wright NEW YORK TELEGRAPH [letter to the editor]...Mabel Normand used to be a great favorite of mine. Then for an extended period she appeared in the most hopelessly colorless films. I kept going to see her, each time hoping and believing that if I were persevering enough I'd be sure to strike something good, eventually. It took a long time and a lot of persistence, but finally I saw "Molly O," which was the best part Mabel Normand had had for a year or more. Just when things began to look bright again, and I thought: well at last she has decided to give us something worthwhile, away she went to Europe and ain't been seen since!... * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * February 9, 1923 Louella Parsons NEW YORK TELEGRAPH After spending the holidays in Europe Mabel Normand is on the high seas speeding toward New York. She sailed from England on the Baltic on February 3 and is due to reach here in a few days... * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * February 14, 1923 NEW YORK TELEGRAPH Mabel Normand Engaged? No Indeed! Mabel Normand, film star, returned from Europe yesterday wearing a gold ring studded with diamonds on the "engagement finger" of her left hand. She denied, however, she had married in England or perhaps became engaged there. She did admit she had met agreeable persons during her stay in the British Isles since early in December; but, that apparently was as far as the matter went. There were rumors on the ship. But liners are such gossipy places! Miss Normand herself looked agreeable as she came down the gangplank of the Baltic, which had met the Winter gales and had one of the roughest voyages this season. The photo-play actress was apparently in fine health. Despite published reports from abroad that she was living a quiet life there, with no display of fine dresses or jewels, she arrived yesterday arrayed in a black dress of the kind called "chic," a stunning leather-trimmed hat and her celebrated rope of pearls around her neck. As to what she has been doing while abroad she was silent. Several friends met her at the pier. She said she would go to Hollywood next Tuesday to appear in a film called "Marianne," under Mack Sennett's direction. She went to the Hotel Ambassador with a traveling companion who on the passenger list was "Miss E. Luth," but who, according to Miss Normand, was Mrs. Louise Lee. Miss Normand looked at her old home on Staten Island when the Baltic lay at Quarantine, and declared: "It looks good covered with snow." * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * February 23, 1923 Louella Parsons NEW YORK TELEGRAPH After spending her time dodging inquisitive reporters who tried to fasten a husband on her Mabel Normand is returning to the Coast and work. She is leaving for Hollywood today. Her first picture will be "Mary Ann," to be made by Mack Sennett. Miss Normand yesterday went to the Capitol Theatre, where she had a preview of "Suzanne," her next picture. She looks very well these days and, having had a rest, is ready to return to work. She came home from Europe only a couple of weeks ago. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * March 11, 1923 Frances Agnew NEW YORK TELEGRAPH Los Angeles, March 5--For eight months or more Mabel Normand has been missing from Hollywood and the film folk and "fans" here often wondered if Mabel were ever coming home. She set their wonders at rest by returning Tuesday night, bubbling over with even more than her usual "pep" following her long rest. And she lightened the hearts of confirmed native sons and daughters by saying that despite all the charms of the Continent she is still loyal to Hollywood. She says she will start work immediately in Mack Sennett's story, "Mary Ann." * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * April 22, 1923 NEW YORK TELEGRAPH Mabel Normand Chosen Will Take Phyllis Haver's Part in "The Extra Girl" Hollywood, April 21--Announcement was made today that Mabel Normand is to play the title role in "The Extra Girl," which Mack Sennett is now producing. This settles a much discussed question, as Phyllis Haver, who was promoted to stardom by Sennett for this production, resigned her association with the producer last week. Rumor has it that there was a disagreement over the story. Then it was said that Winifred Bryson would play the role, but there was apparently some hitch in that play, too, for today comes the news of Miss Normand's acceptance of the part. She will play "The Extra Girl" immediately and later star in "Mary Ann." * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * July 1923 CAPT. BILLY'S WHIZ BANG Mabel Normand must have renewed her hold on Mack Sennett. When Mabel recently returned from Europe she managed to kick up such a didoe that the Phyllis Haver-Mack Sennett love affair was broken off. Phyllis disappeared from the lot, and Mabel was given the lead in "The Extra Girl" in spite of the fact that Phyllis already had done two weeks' work in the picture. Bernard Shaw and Hall Caine, who were so keen for an introduction to Mabel in London, might find a plot in this. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * October 14, 1923 Florence Lawrence LOS ANGELES EXAMINER "My First Day in the Movies"--Mabel Normand "The first day I ever worked in pictures," said Mabel Normand, "Griffith was directing in the old Biograph Studio in New York. He kept the company so late it was nearly 1 o'clock when I got home, but I had a pay check for $8. I got overtime, you see, for I was just an extra. My mother said: 'No, can't do that,' so I never went back." Mabel admits she was pretty green about pictures when she began. Alice Joyce told her of the studio and asked her to come down, but the famous little comedienne wasn't interested. "You see," she admits, "I wanted to be an artist. I was studying painting and drawing at the Art Students' League in New York, and I had to earn the money for my lessons by posing. I worked every morning for Howard Chandler Christy and every afternoon for Henry Hutt. Each of them paid me $1.50. That $3 looked like a lot of money when I earned it, but I had to pay 30 cents to get home to Staten Island every night and so I was just about able to pay for my art and piano lessons." One day Christy gave her a holiday--with pay. She's very careful about that. She didn't have to work and she would get her money so she decided to go down to the old Fourteenth street studio and see what it was all about. "The first thing I saw when I got inside the studio door," Mabel relates, "was the most beautiful creature--all blonde and dressed up--with big blue eyes and gorgeous golden hair which came nearly to the floor. "I looked at her and then I looked at myself. I had on a little blue dress my mother made and a trimmed hat. I thought I had a lot of hair, too, but it didn't come anywhere near the floor, so I just said to myself, 'No, you won't do,' and started for the door." Griffith had seen the little wide-eyed visitor. His name didn't mean much then, and nothing at all for Mabel, but when the messenger he sent stopped her at the door she went back. "He made me go to work, all dressed up in a page's costume, you know, just a funny little suit without any skirts, and I was terribly embarrassed. All I had to do was to stand still by the side of the beautiful blonde who was a queen, or something." Finally Mabel admits the work was finished and she got a check and went home. "I didn't know there was anything more for me to do. I didn't know the pictures went on for two or three days before they were finished, so I went back and posed for my artist again and went to school and got up every morning and practiced my piano lessons from 6 o'clock until 7." That was the Mabel Normand of ten years ago. Happy, earning her $3 a day, she dreamed of becoming a great painter whose pictures would be shown in the famous salons of New York. Yesterday Miss Normand's car stopped before the Biltmore entrance. The doorman smilingly ushered the star of "The Extra Girl" into the Galeria Real. Checkroom girls fluttered with eager eyes as she passed and three head waiters bowed low as she sought a small table for tea. No queen could have been received with more deference; royalty itself could not have accepted the courtesies with a more gracious charm. While her painting has had to be discarded, the Mabel of today encircles the world with her pictures. Not of oils and canvases, to be sure, but none the less creations of her own art. It was several months after her first adventure that Mabel finally went back to the studio, and then she played "vamps." "They dressed me up in long, clinging clothes, taught me to make up and gave me a big hat to wear--oh! a lovely hat--the biggest I'd ever seen," continued the star. "I loved the hat--in fact, I could hardly bear to leave my dressing room mirror to go out on the set." The little slim girl of 15 or 16 didn't have the opulent figure then considered necessary for the vamping roles, so she describes her efforts at padding. "I had to use towels to stuff around in the places where I was too little," she chuckles. "Baby vamps and the 'boyish form' hadn't become so popular then. "Mr. Griffith would say: 'Now thrown back your head and half shut your eyes and look at him that way,' and I'd do it, and on the screen it seemed a wicked look. Then D. W. would snap me out of that mood and say: 'Sparkle, Normand, Sparkle," and I'd flicker my eyelashes and pout my lips and think I was a regular actress doing heavy stuff." It was some time before the comedy qualities of the little star were discovered. "I thought, being dark, I must always play the wicked woman on the screen," Mabel continued. All the heroines were blondes at first, you know, and I never dreamed I could make any one laugh with me--although they must have laughed at me often enough, I'm sure," she added. Finally Miss Normand was put into the Griffith stock company, but one day a friend whispered, "I know where you can get a new contract--and get $100 a week." The sum was unbelievable, but persuasion led the actress to rival producers down the street. Sure enough, there was the new proposition. "Those men offered me the hundred right enough," said Mabel, "but I just thought it was a joke and wouldn't consider it. I was rattled, too, and kept on saying, 'Why, I couldn't! I'm getting $25 now from Mr. Griffith. I'd have to ask him first before I promised you.' "There's nothing in that old bromide about 'he who hesitates is lost,'" adds the star, "because when I'd repeated it often enough that I was getting $25, they finally raised their own offer and brought out a contract made out for $125 a week. I signed it and when I got out of the office I was so excited I walked from Sixteenth Street way up to Times Square and back again without an idea of where I was going or why." That was the contract that brought her to Los Angeles and proved the stepping stone upon which the little actress mounted and mounted up the cinematic scale. And incidentally, while the silversheet artistry of her smiles and tears became "bigger and better," her name on a contract also became something for producers to think about, especially when they were adding ciphers to that first of the four figures which are necessary to any documents Mabel even considers today. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * October 1925 MOVIE MAGAZINE ...Wallace MacDonald used to be one of the old Keystone cops and it was during this time that he first came to know and appreciate the little Irish girl whose own life has turned out so differently from the comedy she portrays on the screen. "Mabel is a person you never forget," he began. "She is probably the most impetuous girl in the world--always up to some prank. It is no wonder that she sometimes finds herself in difficulties. It is to be expected that she will always be misunderstood. "I remember one time in the old Keystone days when Mack Sennett made a trip to New York. He wired the studio manager that he would return at a certain hour of a certain day. "And Mabel, knowing that he expected everyone to be on hand to greet him, had all of us hide in the rafters of the main building. From this point we could observe him without being seen. "His face was a study when he saw the deserted building. There wasn't a human being in sight. Office doors swung open. Sets on the stages were dark and forlorn. The only sign of any life was a cat who prowled about the place. "Finally Mabel's convulsions of laughter attracted his attention and she climbed down from her hiding place, crying with laughter." That, of course, happened years ago. But it quite coincides with later stories we have heard. "There is no one in the world like Mabel," Mr. MacDonald added, "No one else quite so thoughtful of others. "Both Mrs. MacDonald and I will be forever in her debt. I knew her only casually and Doris has only met her once. But when our baby was born dead, she slipped out of the courtroom in the midst of her own troubles to send Doris flowers and a sincerely sympathetic note. "That is typical of her as any number of people in Hollywood could testify. "She's Irish. That perhaps explains her best of all." * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * November 8, 1925 CHICAGO HERALD-EXAMINER [from an article on stunt doubles in motion pictures]...Ray Thompson is now playing some important roles in pictures, but he first gained recognition by his daring horsemanship. Many audiences were thrilled by Mabel Normand's "Mickey," a play in which a horserace was featured. Mabel mounted the thoroughbred, posed for a few close-up pictures, then gave way to "Red" Thompson, who rode the race. This was staged at the old Exposition Park track in Los Angeles, where 10,000 persons were on the grounds. To this day few know that the horse which fell near the grandstand that afternoon was put in the race to be thrown by its rider before a motion picture camera, stationed just back of a small white flag on the fence. When Ray suddenly reached forward and pulled his mount's head quickly and violently to one side and caused the animal to stumble and go down in a heap, the great crowd gasped. Ray lay still on the track and a crowd quickly gathered. All the time the camera was clicking. "Stand back! Stand back and give him air!" some special officer shouted. After the camera had enough Ray arose, smiled, and said: "Gentlemen, I think you. That will be all today." He led his horse, not hurt, away. And many persons have marveled at the wonderful ride that "Mabel Normand" made in "Mickey," and marveled that she escaped in such a nasty spill... * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * April 1930 NEW MOVIE MAGAZINE A party with a most tragic finale was the little surprise birthday gathering arranged for Lew Cody by some of his friends. It was one of the first social events Lew has attended since his recovery from his long illness and came as a surprise to him, for, when he arrived home after a trip to the sanitarium at Monrovia, to see his wife, Mabel Normand, he found a group of friends waiting to wish him many happy returns of the day. Just after midnight, the guests were shocked and the gay effort to cheer Lew up a little was turned to tears by a telephone call that Mabel had passed away quietly at a little after twelve. Those who had arranged the party were Norman Kerry, Cliff Edwards, Jack Gilbert, Marshall Neilan, Walter O'Keefe, Jack Pickford and Hoot Gibson, all old time friends of Lew's. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * April 1930 Walter Winchell NEW MOVIE MAGAZINE Poor Mabel Normand, she suffered so before the end came, but we didn't know her well and we will follow the counsel of Will Rogers, who urged people not to write about her career or passing unless they knew her. "Only those who knew her could write about her," Rogers advised. It was a touching story, however, that Eddie Doherty wrote in one of the New York dailies about her. Doherty told how the newspaper crowd helped make her sick and unhappy, for it was their duty to investigate matters in which her name was involved, although no one could ever connect her with some of the west coast tragedies. Doherty was sincerely sorry, he said, that his duty caused her pain and he wrote a beautiful story about her. I met her once up at T. R. Smith's place on 47th Street. Mr. Smith is the executive head for the Liveright publishing firm and at a literary party, as they are laughingly called, Mabel passed around her autograph album, asking all the celebrated writers there to write in her book. They all penned amusing lines and tributes to her and then she confessed to me that she once was the world's champion autograph-pest hater. She disliked to give her autograph, she said, and now look, here she was collecting the signatures of well-knowns herself. "At heart I guess" she said, "I'm a hero-worshiper, too." * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * April 1930 Herb Howe NEW MOVIE MAGAZINE ...A representative of a paper rang the bell of Mabel's apartment during the time when scandal was poisoning her life. Her name had been dragged into it only through loyal friendship. Mabel turned white but she received the representative. "I wanted to know if you wanted to renew your subscription," said the boy. Mabel had expected a reporter. When the boy left she fainted in the arms of Mamie, her maid. ...At the funeral of Mabel Normand the motion-picture industry seemed suddenly to have aged. Allowance must be made, of course, for grief that lined their faces, bowed their heads. Yet most of the pioneers of gay Hollywood who followed her casket with tear-wet eyes--greatest figures of this fanciful world--were quite gray-haired, some bent and wrinkled. Ten years ago they were debonair, romantic: Chaplin, Griffith, Ford Sterling, Mack Sennett, Doug Fairbanks, Sam Goldwyn and many others. It wasn't a funeral, it was a farewell. No one was ever so loved as "Mickey." She hasn't died, she lives forever in the hearts of us to whom she gave love, courage, sympathy, tolerance. ***************************************************************************** ***************************************************************************** ***************************************************************************** "The Indiscretions of a Star" "The Indiscretions of a Star" was a series that ran in PICTURE-PLAY magazine for a year during 1922-1923, purporting to relate the true experiences of a silent-film actor who wished to only be identified as "Barry Stevens." The installment below was obviously supposed to be the story of Mabel Normand. Although published with a cover date of April 1922, all the material in that issue of PICTURE-PLAY (editorials, news items, and articles) was clearly written prior to the Taylor murder. The story is of interest because: (1) it is an early account of the romance of Mack Sennett and Mabel Normand; (2) it is the earliest-written mention we have seen regarding Mabel Normand's drug addiction; (3) it mentions Sam Goldwyn having repeatedly spent money on her drug rehabilitation (this was also mentioned in Louella Parsons' book "The Gay Illiterate"); (4) it has Mack Sennett threatening to shoot someone he regards as a rival for Mabel's affections! In the story, all names were changed, and much is obviously fictionalized. The portions of the story not pertaining to Mabel Normand have been edited out. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * April 1922 PICTURE-PLAY The Indiscretions of a Star as told to Inez Klumpf ...Barry Stevens and I talked it over the other day, when we began this story of his. "I don't know exactly where to begin or how far to go," he told me. "I don't want folks who read this to blame us movie people too much, yet I want them to know what kind of people we are and what the things are that make us what we are. I'll tell you--suppose we begin with Nadine." And after he'd begun telling me the incident, I agreed that it would indeed be well to begin with Nadine. "I wish you could have met Nadine when I first knew her," Barry began. We were tearing along in his car, on our way to a little old farmhouse on Long Island Sound, where he was working on location. "She was one of the prettiest little Irish girls in the world, with really beautiful black hair-- the kind that fluffs out like spray, it's so fine and wavy--and her blue eyes were even lovelier than they are now; they always look sort of tired and sophisticated nowadays, it seems to me. "She was working in comedies--doing real slapstick stuff, getting hit with pies and all that sort of thing. And she was just kid enough to like it- -she was only sixteen, you know. She'd come straight out of a New York tenement to go into pictures, and no matter how bad a director happened to be, you could bet on Nadine's having known a worse one. But she was like a little boy who goes wading in mud puddles in city streets--the dirt never touched her. She was sharp as a new pocketknife, and she was earning more money than she knew what to do with, so nobody could make her any kind of offer that tempted her at all." That was a new light on Nadine Malory for me. Her reputation now is-- well, one hesitates to mention her in circles where she is really known. Try to excuse her to nice people, tell them how well read she is, how amazingly good-hearted, and all that sort of thing, if you like, but they just sniff and mention various rather lurid details that stun you into silence. I've often wondered whether those details were true or not. Now I was to find out. "I was just beginning to work under my first starring contract, and, of course, I had a pretty good opinion of myself, when I met her. I'd gone over to the lot at the studio where she was working, with my director, to see if we couldn't find somebody who might make us a good leading lady, and somebody brought her over to where we were standing. "'Hullo,' she said, with a friendly little grin. 'Want to give me a job?' "I was on my dignity, of course, and let her see that I couldn't descend to frivolity. I was just eighteen, you know, and Lord, how important I felt!" I've heard of that meeting from others. They said that Nadine deliberately made fun of him, and that he, looking handsome enough to be a collar ad, in his cream-colored flannels and tie that made his eyes look steel blue, flushed and stiffened and finally wound up by laughing with her at himself. "I was crazy about her by the time the afternoon was over," he went on. "She has real magnetism, you know, and a trick of making you think you're the most interesting chap in the world. She looks in your eyes and says, 'Do tell me about yourself!' and you burble on and on, and then, when you're convinced that you're boring her to death and stop, she opens her eyes wider than ever and says, 'Oh, tell me some more--it's wonderful!' She told me, long afterward, that she had thought out some of her most effective costumes and at least two good plots for pictures while men were talking to her about themselves, but, of course, at the time I thought she was really listening to me--just as all men do, I imagine. "She wouldn't leave comedies to go to work with me, though. I did my best to get her to do it--told her that she might become a star herself some day--little did I suspect that she'd been offered a chance to be one weeks before, and had turned it down. "'But why won't you?' I asked, tagging along after her when she went over to a soap box that stood near the set and sat down. I was rather embarrassed when I discovered that she'd gone over there to change her costume--but she took off her shoes and stockings as any child would have done, apparently without even thinking of me, and got into some sandals and slipped another dress on over the one she was wearing, and then slid the underneath one off, while she talked on with me. "'Shall I tell you the truth?' she asked, suddenly growing serious. 'Think you can stand it?' "'I can stand anything you tell me,' I told her. I was rapidly losing my head over her. "'All right--I won't leave because I'm living with my director,' she told me calmly. "I suppose I turned every color of the rainbow. I felt as if something had fallen on me and knocked the breath straight out of my body. "She waited a moment to let me get the full force of that, and then gave a little giggle, an impish ghost of a laugh. "'I'm his wife, you see--but you needn't make that fact public,' she went on. Then, more soberly. 'And he's in love with somebody else.'" "Do you mean that Nadine Malory was really married to Lee Norton when they made those marvelous comedies and both became famous?" I demanded incredulously. "Why, I've always heard--" "You've heard just what Lee wanted people to think." Barry cut in, letting his car out as we left White Plains and swung into the short cut to Port Chester. "He didn't want any one to know that he was married, and she, kid that she was, adored him and was willing to do whatever he wanted her to. Nobody knows yet that she married him way back there in the days when bathing girls still wore skirts. "She told me because she simply had to tell somebody, and she said she thought I had a kind face--imagine how that made me feel, when I'd thought I was so sophisticated! "She told me other things, too--for instance, when I asked her why she stuck to him, if he was in love with somebody else, she said, 'But why not? He's not good to me know, but he won't give in to her and get rid of me, as she wants him to, because he needs me. I help him write his pictures, you know--that is, I put down the things he says when he's drunk.'" I began to see why some of the Lee Norton comedies were rather disconnected in spots. "'Of course, we just kind of make them as we go along,' she told me after that. 'There's never really any story--comedies are just fillers, anyway. But I tell Lee that they could be something more than that--I think a comedy could be almost a feature, if it was handled right and had sort of a story. He thinks I'm crazy.'" "I wonder if he still thinks she's crazy, since Chaplin's done 'The Kid' and some of the rest of them have turned out five-reelers in that line," I volunteered. "Oh, I suppose so--he'll never appreciate her, no matter what happens. Probably thinks it was his idea--he's always been a regular sponge," answered Barry disgustedly. "Well, we talked for a long time, and I did my best to get her to break away and do straight stuff with me, but she wouldn't do it. "I found out afterward that the girl Norton was infatuated with was a cheap little actress who'd got stranded on the coast when a road show she was with went broke. And Nadine had seen her sitting on the extras' bench outside the lot one day, realized that she was up against it, and finally taken her in. She lived with Nadine for two weeks--then Norton gave her a job, and the first thing anybody knew Nadine was by way of losing her husband." "And I suppose you stepped in and monkeyed with the buzz saw," I suggested. "Exactly," he answered, with a laugh. "My director tried to tell me I was a fool, when I kept trotting over to Norton's studio, but I insisted that Norton was a really good man--he is, you know--and that I was learning things from seeing how he could take a bunch of pretty girls without an ounce of brains and actually get action out of them. "Then Nadine came to me one night, at my apartment--it was exactly like her to do that; people gossiped about her and Norton, and she knew it, so she didn't take the slightest trouble to preserve what reputation she might have had. She just took it for granted that every one was going to believe the worst of her, and as she knew that trying to explain to them wouldn't do her any good, she just didn't try. "'I've changed my mind, Barry,' she told me. "I'm going to switch over to you.' "I just stood there and stared at her. I remember that I was getting into a dinner coat--it was movie night at one of the Los Angeles cafes, and in those days I was crazy about stuff like that. When strangers pointed me out and gazed at me with awe I was tickled to pieces. "She had come in without being announced, and walked straight down the hall to the only room that was lighted--my bedroom. I was standing at the chiffonier, fussing with my tie, when she came in, and I just stood there with my mouth open and the tie dangling around my neck, staring at her. You see, the situation embarrassed me--though she never thought a thing about it. "She sat down on the foot of the bed and motioned to me to go on with my dressing. "'I can't stand it any longer,' she told me, and her face had a white, strained look that made my heart ache for her. I reached over and laid my hand on hers--I had an almost impersonal feeling of wanting to help her." "Barry Stevens, you never had an impersonal feeling about a woman in your life!" I cut in. "You know that as well as I do. But go on." "I tell you, I did feel that way about Nadine that night--I guess I was too scared to feel any other way. You see, there we were--not another soul in the apartment--at it was nine o'clock at night--not awfully late, but late enough. I knew it was all right--Nadine's heart was so full of Norton that she couldn't even think of another man. But I knew that, thought the situation wasn't my fault, it certainly was--well, indiscreet. "'I didn't mind so awfully much as long as I could do things for Lee,' she told me. That marvelous magnetism of hers had gone out like a flame somebody's turned a hose on; she just sat there, staring straight ahead of her, with her shoulders drooping, all huddled in on herself. 'But now she helps him instead of me. They sit together when the day's rushes are run off, and talk about 'em, and she makes suggestions--she doesn't know one end of a camera from the other, if you want to know what I think! "'And she--listen to this, Barry--she won't be the goat in his pictures. No, siree! No pies can be thrown at her. She says she's pretty enough to stand around and just be good looking--so Lee's designing a costume for her that's nothing but a frill or two and a bunch of spangles, and the next picture's all written around her. Me, I'm out!' "Well, I begged her to brace up and show him what she could do. My picture was all cast and under way, but we'd be through with it in a month-- we worked fast in those days! And I told her I'd get her into the next one. She sort of cheered up at that, and took off her had and fixed her hair. "'Guess I'll sleep on the living-room couch tonight, if you don't mind,' she told me, powdering that pretty little nose of hers. 'I haven't got a cent and no baggage--nobody'd take me in.' "Talk about cold feet--mine turned to stone. I liked Nadine well enough- -but I certainly didn't want to be all mixed up in a scandal with her, and I knew that was what would happen if she didn't clear out. And Norton was exactly the kind to make a fuss and threaten to shoot me, and then divorce Nadine and marry the other girl. "But she had her mind all made up, so I decided that the thing for me to do was to be conspicuously absent from home that night. I cleared out and went in the cafe, joined up with the crowd I'd planned to meet, and there I stayed. I refused to go home. "I started walking along the street, alone, when the cafe closed, trying my darndest to figure out some way of getting through the night. "I was considering hunting up a park bench, when a car whizzed past me, and then slammed around a corner and skidded into the curb. One axle crumpled up as it hit, and it slued around into a lamp-post and stayed there. I ran, of course--I was grateful for having somewhere to go. "And then, when I saw the man who jumped out, swearing, I was even more grateful. For it was Lee Norton."... "Well, I helped Norton get his car braced up a bit, and when he saw that he couldn't go on in it he raved. "'I'm on my way to an important engagement,' he told me. 'I've got a print here that I have to deliver to a chap who's to meet me at the railway station--he's taking it East for me, and a renewal of my contract really hangs on its getting to New York as soon as possible. Say, why can't we run up to your apartment--it's near here, isn't it?--and phone for a taxi?' "I give you my word that I fairly shivered. That was the last thing on earth that I wanted. "'My phone's out of order,' I answered, trying to think faster than his suspicions could work. 'Why not take a taxi?' "'We'd wait an hour to hail one, at this time of night,' he retorted disgustedly. 'And there isn't a garage within a mile--I'll never make that train at this rate.' "I never felt more helpless in my life. I knew only too well that if anything happened that he didn't get to the train, he'd probably suggest that he stay the rest of the night with me. "Well, we stood there for about five minutes, hoping a car would go by. None did. Then a milk wagon came careering along, every bottle in it rattling. Norton hailed it and explained what he wanted. He'd pay the driver well if he could take that wagon long enough to make a dash for the railway station. "But the driver wouldn't have anything to do with us. He was on his way somewhere or other--wherever it is that milkmen go at that hour of the morning--and he'd let nothing stop him. He hung out of the side of his cart and argued with Norton, while I stood there by the street lamp, looking at him--and all I could think of was that he was one of the queerest-looking chaps I'd ever laid eyes on. He wasn't just homely--he was grotesque. No part of him seemed to have been designed to go with any other part of him. He looked like a cut-out puzzle put together wrong. "And there stood Norton, his cans of film under his arm, raving and tearing his hair and offering fabulous wealth if he could have that milk wagon for fifteen minutes. "But money wouldn't tempt the driver. Norton, getting wilder and wilder, began offering other things. He'd have his car fixed and give that to the driver--he'd give him a better job than he had with the milk company. Finally, nearly out of his head, he cried, 'I'll give you a job in the movies.' "'D'you mean that?' demanded the man seriously. "'Sure!' exclaimed Norton. 'This chap here'll be a witness that I do.' "'Jump in!' cried the driver, moving over. "I wish you could have seen 'em go down that street. The horse, lashed into a frenzy, simply streaked it, and the cart swung from side to side till I thought it would fly loose altogether. "They made the train. The driver went to work for Norton two days later, just being himself. Norton was wild when he saw what he was in for, but when the picture was released the fans went mad over that driver's face. They thought he was looking like that on purpose! "Today he's one of the biggest comedians in the business--draws down a star-size salary, and the companies fight for him. He's a riot." "And what did you do with the rest of the night?" I demanded. "Oh, it was just about morning then. I found an all-night restaurant and chummed up with the fellow who ran it--got a lot of stuff from him that I'm using in the picture I'm making now, incidentally. And I had the best little alibi in the world when my manager called me up the next day and told me he'd met Nadine coming out of my apartment at nine o'clock that morning." "And what happened to Nadine after that?" I demanded, as Barry paused for breath. "Did Norton hear about her staying at your apartment all night?" "He did, and he didn't care. She went back to his studio and helped him get a new picture under way and all that, but he made it perfectly clear that she meant nothing in his young life. So she came to me again, simply desperate. She wanted to kill herself and took to taking dope--yes, actually, she did. I was scared green about her. My enthusiasm over her had waned by that time--any woman who becomes a burden to a man can't expect him to love her. Not that Nadine wanted me to; all she wanted to do was sit and talk to me about Norton. She'd sit in my living room and talk about him by the hour, and I'd sit there and fidget, knowing that the scandal sheets would hear about our being together every evening and talk about it, and that my manager would blow me up the next day--he did that regularly every morning. My reputation for being a nice young man was all gone blooey by that time, anyway. "Then old Mort Blenker got interested in her. And you know what he is-- he didn't give her a minute's peace till she said she'd make a picture for him. "She was pretty much a wreck by that time--drugs had got her. He sent her to a sanitarium for a while, and got her braced up, and then had her go to work. "And you know the picture they made, don't you?" And he told me the name of it. I can't tell it to you, or you'd know who Nadine is. "The biggest success of her career," I commented. "Exactly. She did it when she was wretchedly unhappy; she'd sit in my living room nights and cry--and my manager would sit there, chaperoning me and fidgeting for fear of what people would say--funny to think of, isn't it? And she'd sob out, 'My heart is breaking--I'm so unhappy--' and go on and tell me how she loved Norton, and all that sort of thing. Gay for me! "And then she'd go to the studio the next day, and make scenes that were simply alive with fun--the critics called her 'the spirit of mirth incarnate' when that picture was released. She was really marvelous. "She hoped that the picture would win Norton back to her, but it didn't. "So, when Nadine found that she couldn't win him back, she signed a contract with Blenker. And you know the kind of pictures she made--not exactly slapstick comedies, but light, funny five-reelers that delighted the fans. She made a big reputation, and Blenker did everything he could to make it bigger. He was in love with her himself, by that time. And she couldn't see him at all. "She'd recovered from her tendency to use me as a safety valve, but our names were indissolubly linked, nevertheless. I couldn't ask a girl to a dance but what she'd say, 'Oh, aren't you taking Nadine Malory?' "She used to hurry home from work and go to bed and read all evening-- never went anywhere. It was then that she acquired her education--she's one of the best-read women you could ask to meet, now. "There was just one stumbling-block--she still succumbed to the drug habit occasionally. Gosh, how sorry I used to be for her then. Blenker would send her off to a cure somewhere, and spend thousands of dollars hushing up the stories about her that got out--though every one who knew her was so darned sorry for her, when it happened, that they wouldn't have let the public know the truth for worlds. So they'd give out stories from Blenker's office, saying that she was resting and reading stories at her bungalow in the mountains, or something like that, and after a while she'd come back and go to work again... "Then quite suddenly life began to move for Nadine. Blenker was offering to give her her own company and a big director and all that sort of thing--she had the world at her feet--and one evening when I was getting cleaned up a bit to run over to the athletic club and get Tony Moreno to hunt up some excitement with me, she appeared on the scene. "'Barry, come with me!' she said. 'You've got to help me--I'm going back to Lee.' "I tried to tell her what that would mean--that she was giving up Blenker's backing and influence and all that sort of thing, and going to a dinky company that would never do anything better than a cheap imitation of what some one else had done. "'But I want to go!' she insisted. 'I've got to go. I don't care what kind of pictures Lee's making--that girl has left him now, you know.' "She went on telling me that she could really help Lee, and all that, so finally I drove her down to his studio. He was sitting in his dinky little office, with a strip of film of his late idol tacked up on the wall and her photographs stuck all around on his desk. "'I've come back, Lee,' she said. Not another word--no recriminations, no finding fault with him. "He swung around and looked at her, so amazed he couldn't speak. And he looked--well, he looked glad--just swept away with gladness. He held out his arms to her--and then he saw me. "'You dirty dog!' he cried. 'You took her away from me in the first place. Get out of here before I shoot you.' "Well, I thought of the hours and hours that I'd sat, listening to her tale of woe, with my manager wringing his hands because of my wrecked reputation and everybody talking scandal about us, and doubled up with mirth... "But when they made a corking good comedy, and cleaned up a fortune on it, just after that, I didn't dare send her a telegram of congratulation. And when I meet Blenker nowadays, I want to wring his hand in sympathy. He was slaughtered to make a Roman holiday, too. But, then, that's the way with the movies, isn't it?"... ***************************************************************************** ***************************************************************************** Back issues of Taylorology are available on the Web at any of the following: http://www.angelfire.com/az/Taylorology/ http://www.etext.org/Zines/ASCII/Taylorology/ http://www.silent-movies.com/Taylorology/ Full text searches of back issues can be done at http://www.etext.org/Zines/ For more information about Taylor, see WILLIAM DESMOND TAYLOR: A DOSSIER (Scarecrow Press, 1991) *****************************************************************************