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Editor, care of this paper,
rvELMAR —Lillian Walker Is still working
with the Vitagraph Company, but Mary Ful
er is not working at alt at present. J. Warren
terrlgan is 27, and Is not married. Lillian Glsh
lever appeared In a serial, nor is Herbert
iawlinson married to Agnes Vernon. Pearl
R'hito was born at White Plains, Mo., some
rwenty-odd years ago, and Prlscllla Dean in
K'ew York City, 20 years ago. Priseilia Dean
tas never married. Ethel Crandin was born
n New York City. Eugene Strong plays the
tart of "Bob Clayton" In The Crimson Stain
dystery. Maurice Costello was born In Pltts
•urgh. Some players do and some don't give
iway their pictures.
• • •
BILL —Your three favorites, or their em
ployers, are very stingy with their pid
wres. Arnold Daly has not been In pictures
tor more than a year. He is on the stago
list now. Pearl White Is 28, to be exact, and
! am sure she would read your Utter. Lillian
Lorraine Is 24.
• • •
lirll. MIKISH—J. Warren Kerrigan has left
VV the Universal Company, with whom he
•as been working for several years, but he will
ret a letter addressed simply to Hollywood, Cal.
It would be wise to send the customary quarter
lir the picture.
• • •
ji WEETHEART—CreIghton Hale, Famous
J Players, New York; Marshall Nellan.
Lasky Company, Hollywood, Cal.; Bessie
Eyton, Bell* Company, Los Angeles, Cal.;
Henry B. Walthall, Essanay, Chicago, II!.;
t>avid Powell, Artcraft, 729 Seventh avenue,
Rew York. Bessie Eyton was married recently
• Clark Coffey. He Is not an actor.
EM. M.—The principal players in Neal of
• the Navy were: Lillian Lorraine, William
Courtleigh, Jr., William Conklin, Ed Brady
and Henry Stanley. Mr. King, In The
Foundling, was Edward Martlndel. Francis
X. Bushman's middle name la n6t Xerxes,
but Xavier; and his wife is Mrs. P. X. Bush
man. She is not nn actress. William Court
leigh, Jr., is 14, and he is married to Kthei
Fleming. He was on the regular stage at last
accounts.
% • •
VERA —You could probably get pictures by
writing to Ernest Truex in care of the
Screen Club, New York City, and Harold
Lockwood, care ol Metro, Hollywood, Cat.
Grace Darling Is th< actress who plays the
part of "Beatrice Fairfax," the newspaper
woman. The real Beatrice Fairfax is not an
actress. Have not heard of any Geraldine
Gerald in pictures,
• • •
J 8. V.—The Birth of a Nation hag never been
• distributed through any exchange, but the
Epoch Film Company, New York City, put the
film on themselves In the different cities and
towns. Write to them and you may be able
to make come arrangements with them to show
the film in your theater. Henry B. Walthall is
the leading male character.
• • •
MUSIC —Their religion Is perhapa the only
one thing that movie players are allowed
to keep strictly to themselves. The Pickforda
are of Irish-English descent. Jack is with Fa
mous Players, 128 West Fifty-sixth street. New
York. He has brown eyes. Alan Forrest Is 26
and was married last fall to Anna Little.
ARLINE —Grace Cunard Is 25 and Francis
Ford Is in his 30s. Neither Is married at
present. Jack Ford Is jwt i>tnclA' .brother-
HE motion picture world Is
about to be stormed, and
/{ forced to deliver, some of Its
( I Bold and glory, and the force
IJ C. that Is moving against tha
1 y rampart of the industry with
\ this end in view is an army
of one little girl—not yet b
years old—and all the weapons she will carry
•are a pair of deep blue eyes—eyes full of the
ihnocence of childhood and the deep tints of
the wood violet—eyes fringed with long silken
lashes that sweep her baby cheeks—eyes that
her mother says are so valuable that she car
ries an Insurance of $50,000 on them.
Efflie Lau relle Selleck, sometimes called the
"Dixie Doll," because of her Dresden China
prettlness, and always called "that lovely
child"—by all who see her exquisite beauty, is
the little maid who possesses the wonderful
eyes. And she will march up to the studlc
sates of the movie world, press her determined
way through the thousands that wait there
aimed with pulls and power, money and am
bition—and train the battery of her baby eyes
on the ponderous gates and demand admission.
That the gates will open—that the movio
world will fall with little resistance seems u
foregone conclusion; for no movie magnate, no
liireetor, however hard and calloused and used
to saying no to aspirants for movie fame, can
gaze into little Eflie's wonderful oyes, become
acquainted with her engaging personality and
all around precociousness, and fail to be con
vinced that here is beauty and talent of such
a rare order that it would be flying in the face
of providence not to give this small maid a
chance win the hearts of the public througti
the medium of the screen, and .lncldently win
fat dividends for the studio employing her.
Mrs. Hazel L. Selleck, the mother of the
beautiful little girl, says that while she has
no especial desire to capitalize her small
daughter's looks, she consider* that she woul'l
be standing in her child's light U she did not
make every endeavor to place her in the ad
vantageous position thst moving pictures will
give her. And with this end in view she will
take little KfHe to New York and do all that
she can to make a great motion picture star
out of her.
Klße has already appeared in pictures in a
email way. She is camera wise, and able to
register her emotions in a telling manner.
Even at her tender ags she can register grief,
sorrow, surprise, horror, pleasure—ln fact near
ly all of the pantomimist's tricks, with ease.
And she is particularly proud of her ability
to wink most cunningly with either one of her
long lashes.
Mothers are notoriously proud of their chil
dren's physical perfections, and many times
without cause other than the mist of love and
pride through which their vision is strained:
but Mrs. Selleck is neither hoodwinked nor
handicapped in this respect.
Mrs. Selleck says she takes no spectal credit
for llttlo Kftle's good looks.
"She Just grew that way. No special training
or dieting, no system of beauty culture or
regime was Indulged in. The little girl has just
lived the life of an ordinary child. She runs
and plays out of doors when the feather Is
good, eats candy and chews gum. and thrives
on sweetmeats, which have never Injured her
digestion nor worked any harm to her com
pletion."
Another remarkable thing about the child Is
that she has all of her second teeth, which
are streng and llrm and white as ivory.
Nature now and then gets In a lavish mood
and Creates a flower or a plant of most sur
passing loveliness and perfection. And now
and then she turns her attention to the hutnan
race—and makes a child us beautiful as a
flower.
T'arl of the country has already falle-n before
th. lottery of KHle's remarkable eyes. The
great Southwest, where, she has lived with her
mother for a number of years, capitulated long
Leading Man Loses Job
BREAKING INTO THE MOVIES
French studio in New Jer-
®ey came to feel more like
Jf • home to Myra Jones and me
11 as time went on.
|I (, _, Madame, the general man-
I \ ager and owner, gave us the
\\l/ . |uo a week she had prom
ised, but not until three is
rtead of two weeks liad passed. It was mighty
lire when it did come, however, and enabled us
to swell our bank account, which, In our eyes,
was growing to enormous proportions.
"Show people," are notorious spendthrifts.
The nomadic life most of them lead is not con
ducive to saving. But it was different with
Myra and me. We knew the value of money;
we had lived on so little when she was in the
6 and 10 cent store, and I was in the laundry.
We had scrimped and made every penny count
till we knew how to save, and we did until we
got tha, reputation of being stingy.
One day Myra said: "Kid, the bunch over, at
the plant have a nice name picked out for us.
They call use the Tightwad Sisters."
Tiiis came about because we refused to loan
money to ever* one who asked us. Most of
the girls at the studio were broke two' days
after pay day, and were continually borrowing
from one another. They soon found out that
Myra and I were not good "touches," and hence
the nicknames, but wo didn't care.
Myra and I reveled in clothes for the first
time in our lives. Before this we had always
patronised the basement bargain counters of the
big stores, but after we got our raise from
madnme we took a shopping trip, and when wo
got to Macy's, Myra said:
"Kid, here's where we take the elevator. I'm
going to splurge and get things to tit this frame
of mine if X have to pay two or three prices for
them."
Myra was * strikingly handsome girl, and
when she got the things on that she had
splurged for uhe really did, to quote her own
words. "cut bome flgger." She was dazzling in
her new outfit.
U'e still lived over the candy store on Ulghth
avenue, In the room Mr. Merton, our old frifnd.
had piepared for his daughter who never came.
There was quite a colony of movie folks living
and boarding around tha studio over qt Fort
Lf-t, and we seriously considered moving over
there, but we did not just then because ru
mors began to float around the studios that
msdame had caught the West Coast fever and
might move the whole outfit to California.
The possibilities of the Pacillc Coast were Just
becoming known. A number of producers be
gan operating In Hollywood, a suburb of J„oj
Angeles. The California films created u great
fitlr In movledom. The photography was much
better than could be produced in the East. The
West Coast pictures were clear and sharp as a
knii". and, in addition to this, the large num
ber of sunshiny days made It possible lor the
players to work out of doors almost uil the year
round.
Kcolltss outdoor stages were built at half the
cost of the artificially lighted studios of New
York. There was no "static," the bete noir of
the Eastern producers, in the West. Static
eleciritity could not be guarded against'in our
climate; it would develop at any time and spoil
many hundreds of feet of films and make neces
sary the restuglna of whole scenes. Static was
little understood at that time.
Madame talked things over with Mr. Merton,
who was now high in her favor, and who was
consulted about everything. He told us he
would probably ahead and make arrange
ments, and that we might get orders any
time to pack up and hike out the West.
Everybody was wild to go except Karl
Fisher, who told us some of his history that
we had never known before, as his reason
lor not wanting to go.
,- I can't go away and leave my sweetheart,"
he said.
"Yes, but she is going along," Myra said,
in a clumsy attempt to tease me.
Karl actually blushed, for the first time
since we had known him, 1 think. But he
soon recovered his nerve.
All our excitement about California was for
naught, however. Madams changed her mind.
One day, not long afterwards, Madame call
ed Myra and me, and Karl, and about a dozen
others of the players into her office for a con
lercnce. before this Myra and I had Just
worked In a haphazard fashion, one day we
would be in a comedy, the next in p drama;
one day I would be leading lady, 'the next
supporting Myra or some other player.
Now, Madame pi'oposed to organize two
companies and put Myra at the head of one in
Blap-stick comedy, with Mr. Stephens as di
rector, and Karl Fisher as leading man, and
me zfs leading woman in dramas. A new actor
was to be bi ought in to support me, and 1 was
to direct my own company, bless my life, with
the assistance of a Mr. Jackson, who was to be
the character man. He had been a regular
stage director, and a moat excellent one.
My, how big we felt over this. And the
best part of It was that we got another raise,
and found ourselves signing the weekly pay
roll for $65. Oh, but we were climbing, and
climbing fast.
The new plan went into effect the next week.
Mr leading man, an actor of the old school who
hari forsaken the stage for the movies about six
months before, came on from Chicago, where
he had been working with a company making
Western subjects.
His wife cams along and was given small
parts by madame in one or the other of the
dramatic companies. The wife was a much
better performer than her husband, lie was
impossible.
Myrr. sized him up the very first day he came.
"I'll bc-t he's a C. L.," she said.
Tho initials C. L. rtand for a very inelegant
but at the same time u most expressive movie
-term.
The good movie actor,works in utter disre
gard of the camera, except when a close-up Is
being made, when he must stare It right In the
cyt. The regular stage player is accustomed
to playing to an audience, and to him the
camera represents the audience —and the first
thing he must learn is to forget all about It
and ]'lay to the other performers and scenery—
anything but the lens. (!ood actors soon learn
this, but your self-conscious and egotistical
netor never does, lie wants to be in the spot
light all tho time.
An actor of this kind is called a C. L„ which
translated, means a camera louse. My leading
man was a C. L. of the most pronounced type.
He stalled and strutted and waved his arms
defects fatal enough in themselves —and he
stared the camera out of countenance and
screwed up his features and beetle-browed eyes
In an attempt to make up tor the loss of his
speech, his one strong point on the regular
stft!?e. Madame released him after one week,
and he left In higly, dudgeon, with many cutting
remarks about the movies being a low form
of art.
There 1 was without a leading roan, and It
looked as if I would have to go on doing my
haphazard work, when Karl Fisher, who did
not like to work in comedy, suggested that he
be put in us my lead, and Myra, who was really
the whole show in her company und did not
need leading support, was to be allowed to
work without a regular lead.
Madame adopted tho suggestion, and Karl and
l.ttle mo became the heads of a dramatic com-
I any. which —if I do say it that shouldn't—
imi; 'em sit up and take notice all over the
country.
We got "all set" and made two little dramas
the first week, and then one day two big animal
cages ruinblcd Into the lot and a half do*en
animal trainers unloaded a black bear, .
two wildcats and a leopard Into cages the
penters had made for them just behind m
drccplng room.
Madame had caught the wild animal craze
then becoming popular and proposed making a
lot of pictures with me ns a Jungle queen!
For the first and only time in my experience
in the pictures 1 was scared. I never coi*M
abide wild animals. Whenever I visited a zoo
1 always felt much better on leaving than on
going in. 1 was afraid of big dogs, and cats
gave me the creeps.
My uncle, with whom I lived for a while when
I was a child, used to tell a story about taking
mo to a circus. He said the lion, which was
old and blind and had to be fed on mush, roared,
and 1 set up another roar and made more noise
tnan the lion, and I wouldn't stop until 1 was
taken home. He raid I scared the poor 1100
so that it crept back In the far corner of its
csge and hid its head In shame for being out
roared.
I took one look at the men unloading the ani
mals and that was enough. I got the creeps
and the shivers and didn't sleep a wink that
night, and Myra'comforted me with:
"Oh, they won't eat you; you're too '