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Taylorology Issue 73
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* 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 *
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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"
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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.
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Jamie Gilcig (bingo30@hotmail.com) is writing a script on the life of Mabel
Normand, and is seeking anecdotes or memorabilia.
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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.
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A photograph of Rudolph Valentino, affectionately autographed to Mary Miles
Minter, can be seen at http://www.geocities.com/~rudyfan/rv-bday.htm
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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 m
uch 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.
*****************************************************************************
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"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?"...
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Back issues of Taylorology are available on the Web at any of the following:
http://www.angelfire.com/az/Taylorology/
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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)
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