Merton of the Movies

d with their prices and appeals to the passer to buy them. Still their prices are high enough to mark the thoroughfare as one out of the common, and it is further distinguished by two r

of the Holden lot. Back of this fence is secreted a microcosmos, a world in little, where one may encounter strange races of people in their nat

gate, reached after passing along an impressive expanse of the reticent fence, is watched by a guardian. He is a stoatish man of middle age, not neatly dressed, and of forbidding aspect. His face is ruthless, with a very knowing cynicism. He is there, it would seem, chiefly to

hrubbery, roses, vines, and a vista of the ends of enormous structures painted yellow. And this avenue is sprightly with the passing of enviable persons w

n early hour each morning a pink or green evening paper that shrieks with crimson headlines. Such has been his reading through all time, and this may have been an element in shaping his now inveterate hostility toward those who would engage him in meaningless talk. Even in accepting the gift of an excellent cigar he betrays only a bored condescension. There is no relenting of countenance, no genial relaxing of an ingrained suspicion

screen activities than hitherto. Ten days of waiting outside the guarded gate had been his, but no other ten days of his life had seemed so eventful or passed so swiftly. F

y them, even touch them, examine the padlocks, turn them over, heft them; actually hold within his grasp the film wraith of Beulah Baxter in a terrific installment of The Hazards of Hortense. Those metal containers imprisoned so much of beauty, of daring, of young love strivin

in the keeper's derby hat, every bristle in his unkempt mustache, every wrinkle of his inferior raiment, and every pocket from which throughout the day he would vainly draw matches to relight an apparently fireproof cigar. Surely waiting thus rewarded could not be called barren. When he grew tired of standing he could cross the street and rest on a low bench that encircled one of the eucalyptus trees. Here were other waiters without the pale, u

a bare room with a wooden seat running about its sides. In a partition opposite the entrance was a small window and over it the words "Casting Director." One of the two other doors led t

he dull-toned walls appeared depressed and unhopeful, especially after they had braved a talk through the little window with someone who seemed always to be saying, "No, nothing to-day. Y

t made him uncomfortable to be stared at by other applicants, whether they stared casually, incuriously, or whether t

w. Too apparently he was not getting anywhere by loitering about outside.

ction that was to be notable in screen annals. He approached the window, bent his head, and encountered the gaze of a small, comely woman with wa

said th

first expect a big part. He would be glad to take a small part to begin with-almost any small part until he could familiarize himself with studio conditions. And here was a bunch of stills that would give any one an idea of the range of parts he was prepared to play, society parts in a full-dress suit, or soldier parts in a trench coat and lieutenant's cap, or juveniles in the natty suit with the belted coat, and in the storm-king model belted overcoat. And of course Western stuff-these would give an

an insistent telephone, "No, nothing to-day, dear." She looked at the stills with evident interest and curiou

two companies shooting. So you couldn't get anything to-day or to-morrow or probably for a good many days after that, and it won't be much when you get it. You may get on as an ex

the applicant, and

aimed the woman. "I'll sa

I picked that out for a good name to act under. It sounds good, doesn't it? And my own right name is

you come again. You needn't act with me, you know. Now, let's see-name, age, height, good genera

the others. If I'm not in this room I'll be just outside there, on that bench around the tree

oke into her friendly smile. "Say, you're a rea

d of Lowell Hardy who took his stills, and of Tessie Kearns, whose sympathy and advice had done so much to encourage him. The woman was joyously attentive. Now

e is will take you back into the store any time? Well, that's a good thing to remember, because the picture game is a hard game. I wouldn't discourag

hwiler-th

o you don't forget it

cant warmly r

forget that, after livi

s again saying into the telephone, "

ght he wrote t

riend

ure you, for I will never forget our long talks together and how you cheered me up often when the sacrifice and struggle seemed more than any man could bear. But now I feel repaid for all that sacrifice and struggle, for I am here where the pictures are made, and soon I will be acting diff

n the lot were shooting to-day, and she said if Gashwiler had promised to keep my old job for me to be sure and not forget his address, and it was laughable that she sh

in the house of a Los Angeles society woman and her husband who came here from Iowa. Their little house with flowers in front of it is called a bungalow. The husband, Mr. Patterson, had a farm in Iowa, six miles out from Cedar Falls, and he cares little for society; but the wife goes into society all the time, as there is hardly a day just now that some society does not have its picnic, and one day it will be the Kansas Society picnic and the next day it will b

d eat them right there in the drug store, but there are other places, too, like cafeterias, where you put your dishes on a tray and carry it to your own table. It is all quite different from Simsbury, and I have seen oranges gr

, and would like to have a chat with you and my other old friends, but I am not homesick, only sometimes I would like to be back there, as there are not many people to chat with here and one would almost be lonesome sometimes if they could not be at the studio. But I must remember that work and struggle and sacrifice are necessary to give the pub

uit in the Patterson kitchen and resumed his vigil outside the gate. But now from time to ti

emained smilingly skeptical about his immediate success in the pictures. Again and again she urged him not to forget the address of Giggenholder or Gooshswamp or whoever it might be that was holding a good job for him. He never failed to remind her t

that were now reaping the reward of their struggle and sacrifice; actors whom he thrilled to recognize as old screen friends. These would saunter in with an air of fine leisure, and their manner of careless but elegant dress would be keenly noted by Merton. Then there were directors. These were ofte

d open and a woman beckoned from the bench. Some of them greeted the casting director as an old friend and were still gay when told that there was nothing to-day. Others seemed to dread being told this, and would wait on without daring an inquiry. Sometimes there would be a little flurry of actual business. Four society women would be needed for a bridge table at 8:30 the next morning on Stage Number

tague always removed his hat in the waiting room, uncovering an abundant cluster of iron-gray curls above a noble brow. About him there seemed ever to linger a faint spicy aroma of strong drink, and he would talk freely to those sharing the bench with him. His

re becomingly. She was a slangy chit, much too free and easy in her ways, Merton considered, and revealing a self-confidence that amounted almost to impudence. Further, her cheeks were brown, her brief nose freckled, and she did not take the pains with her face that most of the beautiful young women who waited there had

shaw, one mo

pausing with his hand to the door

tague! Well, what is it

tand by him, tenderly flecking a bit of dust from his coat sleeve as she bega

wn into the eyes so co

rry about," he snapped, and was gone, his b

th poor little me, a

and listened, but no reply ca

om the bench, reb

ding stuff will get you? Don't y

pleading eyes

ve answered a simple

nswer to her simple question, but why need she ask it of so busy a man? He felt tha

the bench, likewi

to be regarded too seriously. It was not like that in my day. Then an actor had to be an artist; there was no position for the

st perceptibly upon Merton

doing Virginius and Julius Caesar and such classics, and then starting out with The Two Orphans for a short season. We were a knock-o

ich he had fairly outdone himself. 'Montague, my lad,' said he 'we may work for the money, but we play for the applause.' But now our finest bits must go in silence, or perhaps be interrupted by a so-called direc

rector, whom she had hailed through the window as Countess. Merton, somew

d, are you? I could have gone on in a harem tank scene over at the Bigart place, but they wanted me to dress the same as a fish, and a young girl's got to draw the line somewhere. Besides, I don't like that Hugo over there so much. He hates to part with anything like m

hair going off on top, and trying new hair restorers. You know his latest? Well, he goes over to the Selig place one day and watches horse meat fed to the lions and says to himself that horses have plenty of hair, and it must be the fat under the skin that makes it grow, so he begs for a

e turned to

hey'll soon be shooting some tenement-house stuff up at the Consolidated. Ma

e lead. He approved of the fine old father, but the daughter lacked di

ented by but one of their number. Once Mrs. Montague was told to be

" said the casting director, "and

illa neck piece," said Mrs. Montague. "The spare parts

calls often found time to regale those p

y, sir; none finer ever

f forbidden beverages. On one such day he appeared with an un

ys where the city chap don't treat our Nell right-you know. And they won't stand for the crepe hair, so pop has got to raise a brush and he's mad. But

true art of the speaking stage an artificial beard was considered above reproach