"Blazing the Trail"

Part Five

My third year in the movies was marked by significant events for the industry, some of which were of profound interest to me personally.

For the first time publishers of daily papers and periodicals recognized the growing importance of the pictures by assigning critics to review them; censorship raised its head; the first group of American film actors went overseas to produce pictures.

If I remember rightly the National Board of Censors came into being about 1908. It was composed of five well-known New Yorkers and had been organized at the suggestion of the Motion Picture Patents Company. For not only had their own licensees put out some terrible films, but the independents also were arousing unfavorable comment all over the country by depicting crime, vulgarity and atrocities.

While the National Board of Censors was not so exacting as some of the state censorship boards of today, one could never tell just which scenes would be censored and which would "get by." For example in The Scarlet Letter, Kalem was not permitted to release the film until by a title they had married Hester and the minister!

Up to this time there had been no medium of advertising or publicity for the pictures except the "lectures" and other small printed sheets issued by the individual companies. Such articles as had been published from time to time in "The Scientific American," "Popular Mechanics" and "The Literary Digest" were technical, and did not deal with either productions or players. But about 1908 came "The Film Index," soon to be absorbed by the "Moving Picture World," both devoted to the needs of manufacturers and containing brief reviews and criticisms of current releases. In January of 1909 the New York Morning Telegraph, then the greatest theatrical paper in the United States, started a motion picture section containing reviews of films and The Dramatic Mirror soon followed suit. Not only did this create new interest in motion pictures among the reading public but it stimulated the players to greater endeavors. We began to feel that we were approaching the dignity of the speaking stage.

Frank Woods, the motion picture critic on the Mirror, soon began to write many of the Biograph scripts and finally left the Mirror to become scenario writer, then assistant director, and eventually he blossomed out into a full-fledged director under Griffith.

But the "Moving Picture World" was the magazine we all favored and its rapid growth under the astute management of the late J.P. Chalmers was astonishing. Among the early editors and writers were James Hoff, George Blaisdell and Epes Winthrop Sargent. The last named, under the pen name of Chicot, had gained considerable fame as a critic of vaudeville on the staff of the Morning Telegraph, but at the time we met he was writing short stories and I was surprised when he remarked:

"You are fortunate in being able to write scenarios. I wish I could, but it requires a certain knack which I have not mastered although I am tremendously interested in the pictures."

In a short time he proved the sincerity of this interest by turning all of his energies into the new field of scenario writing, and in a few years became the most prolific writer of comedy scripts for films that the industry has ever produced. He wrote practically all of Lubin's comedies, no doubt a thousand or more. Moreover he became the leading authority on the art of scenario-writing, conducting a department on the technique of the photoplay in the "Moving Picture World" and publishing books which are recognized by the entire profession as authorities on the subject.

When we were abroad, Ireland, Egypt or Palestine, the "Moving Picture World" was our only connection with the industry. It contained the only news we had of what was going on, aside from the firm's letters when our pictures were released to the public, since we expressed the negatives direct to New York for development, and consequently never saw a print of our films run off; for we had neither laboratory nor projection room, and worked far from any picture houses where we might have viewed them. Indeed many of the Egyptian pictures I have never seen to this day. So the weekly advent of the "Moving Picture World's" reviews was awaited eagerly and the achievements of the other picture companies conscientiously noted.

In the fall of 1909 other newspapers began also to take an interest in the new amusement and on one occasion a writer was sent out with us to acquire copy on how pictures were taken. So inspired was she by Mr. Olcott's direction that she titled her story "The Belasco of the Open Air." This was Martha M. Stanley who has since become a successful playwright, author of "Nighty Night," "Her Son" and other plays.

As the day approached for our departure for a second winter in Florida, many changes in our southern company loomed darkly. Max Schneider who had worked hand and glove with Sid Olcott to the great advantage of Kalem pictures received an offer from another firm which Kalem could not meet. We gave him a farewell dinner at Poggi's, the little Italian restaurant we all frequented, a typical dinner of the day, marked by speeches, heartfelt expressions of regret and a gift.

His successor, Knute Rahmn, whose only motion picture experience had been in making stills, was so expert in this line that later he became famous as Mary Pickford's still camera man, but what with static and many of his films being out of focus his first work for us almost ended in disaster. We nicknamed him Oppie, short for "operator." Amelia Barleon was engaged to lighten my work by alternating leads, but she remained with us only a short time and I was soon back on the triple job of writing scenarios, playing the leads and helping Olcott with the directing.

George Melford, then playing with a Cincinnati stock company, signed up for heavies and characters with us; Jane Wolfe to do seconds and characters. Robert Vignola left the legitimate stage for good that season and threw his lot with the pictures. Kenean Buel, James Vincent, Tommie Santley, Olcott and I represented the old organization. Of these men, Vignola, Buel, Melford and Vincent became successful directors within a few years, which reflects credit upon their schooling under Olcott.

Just before we left New York Kalem decided to exploit its actors. We were all sent to Bangs, then the leading theatrical photographer. Large photographs were taken, to be made up in big frames of weathered oak, and sold to exhibitors for their lobbies at the cost price of twenty-five dollars each. It was the first time the photographs and names of actors had ever been given out and the innovation created a favorable impression through the country. Needless to say we actors were delighted.

We found changes also at the Roseland for "Ma" Perkins had left and a new proprietor was in charge. While cleanliness was more apparent, the "homey" atmosphere was gone and the meals were quite dreadful. But the same old friends were around us and the same old Florida weather greeted us.

George Melford joined us in Florida. He had been playing the genteel heavy in "Billy the Kid" and his debut in the pictures was made in The Wayward Daughter, the beginning of a brilliantly successful career. For after becoming a director for the western Kalem Company in 1911 he finally left it to join the Lasky Company, remaining with them for a number of years, developing into one of their most dependable directors, accumulating a fortune.

At this time, however, George was a handsome slender blond chap in his early thirties, enthusiastic and hard-working, and devoted to his wife, Louise, and her son Judson, both of whom had accompanied him to Florida, together with their bulldog Bess, the only household pet in the company. Mrs. Melford played characters and was a home-loving domestic little woman. After her arrival it became our custom to drop into the Melford rooms every evening around nine o'clock for the cup of coffee which was always waiting for chance visitors.

When I read of the wild parties, greatly exaggerated no doubt, given by film people today, I recall our naive little social gatherings and smile at the enjoyment we got out of so little. Recently I read of an elaborate affair given by our own Bob Vignola at his gorgeous home in Hollywood, at which Hindoo magicians, a jazz band, shimmy dancers and other vaudeville acts entertained during the Lucullian feast, and I wondered if he remembered the dance we gave at Roseland when the rough board floor was sprinkled with cornmeal and the refreshments consisted of lemonade, cakes and beer- mark the combination! And the music was furnished by Quincy's band consisting of a basso, a cornet, a trombone, two drums and traps!

Most of our entertaining was done out of doors. We would invite friends from the neighborhood or from town and give them an oyster, crab or shrimp "roast." After we could eat no more the boys performed an Indian war dance, with its accompanying howls, around the fire; then came the songs, recitations and "close harmony." It was very Bohemian and very jolly, and our southern friends were always eager for an invitation to one of the "roasts."

But in the daytime we worked- hard. The Slave to Drink, The Romance of a Trained Nurse, The Wayward Daughter, The Man Who Lost, The Stepmother, The Forager, had all been taken when we received bad news.

Our output was not satisfactory photographically and thanks to the censors the picture crammed with thrills was in bad odor. It had become increasingly difficult for me to think up ideas for outdoor pictures, yet our instructions from the home office were explicit- exteriors only. I had used walks, tea and breakfast scenes galore, set proposals in palmetto groves and on grassy lawns, in lovely gardens, even brought men out on lawns to die. So finally I rebelled and urged Olcott to take matters in his own hands.

Spurred on by Melford's enthusiasm for it he consented, and we began the erection of our first studio sets. Melford appointed himself chief carpenter and soon there appeared on the lower part of the hotel plot near the river, a stage floor some twenty-five feet square, and three walls, containing a door and two windows. It was crude and primitive and there were no sun shields, but it was our first stage and we exulted over it. The interiors were varied by papering the walls for each change of scene, the boys soon becoming expert paperhangers. The walls were of lumber and in a storm stood a fine chance of being demolished. Many times at night Sid roused the house when a sudden wind came up and all the boys throwing raincoats over pajamas dashed down to the "set" to brace it against the onslaught of the storm, or to lower the "flats" to the floor. We did not write north about our studio, but let the firm find it out when they viewed it in the next picture sent up. As I had foreseen they were delighted, and when they learned the boys had built it themselves they sent their warmest congratulations- and that's all. The Christmas holidays, however, brought more material expressions of appreciation. I quote from my diary:

December 20: "Sid received a letter from the firm in which they stated they had 'cut the melon' and that his share was three hundred and fifty dollars for the one share of stock he held as vice president. Also there was a check enclosed for one hundred dollars as a Christmas present for the company, which was divided into fourteen dollars and seventy-five cents for second-year people," and seven dollars and twenty-five cents for first-year people. So Sid and I went to town and got lovely brass desk clocks as gifts from the company, and he personally sent silver cardcases beautifully embossed."

Unspoiled? Rather!

We had our first company Christmas tree this year, cut by the boys and brought together with a boatload of holly and mistletoe, from far up Strawberry Creek. The diary again records:

Friday, December 24: "At nine o'clock we all assembled, first listening to a little concert by Sid's phonograph, a baby one he bought this evening for two dollars and seventy-five cents, but it is fine. Flashlights were taken of the crowd surrounded by presents, which numbered one hundred and sixty-two, and were distributed amid laughter and shouts and thank-you's. Afterward the boys got out their music and we had a serenade that would have put 'dot leetle German band' to shame. Did a lockstep to the pier, got in the Bess and went for a ride on the still river under a great golden moon."

Our friends the Hemmenways, who owned Oak Hall, an orange grove across the river at Floral Bluff, and were wintering in New York, had turned their lovely home over to us for our Christmas celebration. Mrs. Melford volunteered to cook the dinner, so my diary reports:

December 25: "A bright day, but blowing terribly. Had to split up the party going across the river. Arrived at Hemmenway's place at two-thirty. Mrs. Melford had been busy for two days. The table looked charming and the dinner was delicious. After dinner we had a jolly time playing children's games- 'Drop the handkerchief,' 'Clap in and clap out' and so forth.

"By nine it was fully decided the Bess could not live in that wind and we would have to bunk there all night. Gave a vaudeville performance, Bob Vignola and I opening with the balcony scene from "Romeo and Juliet" which we give very well together, if I do say it myself as shouldn't, we injected some comedy by interpolating scenes behind the stage as well as in front. Then Sid, Bob, Tom Santley and Melford attempted to do some scenes from "Billy the Kid" in which all had appeared, but could remember very little of it. The Sawdust Twins (Bob and Tom) were exceedingly funny."

Early Friday morning, January 14, the big passenger boat the Chatham, of the Merchants and Miners Line, was wrecked on the jetties near Mayport. I had a shipwreck picture in mind and, thinking we might get a good insert, Sid, Oppie and I went down to Mayport on Sunday morning. It was dark and windy and the waves, even inside the jetties, were very high. For several hours we tried to get someone to take us out to the wreck, but all the boatmen said it was too dangerous to venture- that the captain had abandoned her and that she was expected to go down in the mountainous waves at any moment. Opposition only strengthened our resolution and we eventually found an old Norwegian who consented to make the trip. My diary reads:

"It was an eighteen-foot open launch and that Norwegian was a wonder. The seas were monstrous and we were tossed like an eggshell but he maneuvered us within fifty yards of the ship, which was standing on her nose, with the decks at an angle of forty-five degrees. Quietly I reached for a life belt and buckled it on and closing my eyes prayed as hard as I could, for it did not seem possible to live long in such seas. Oppie had lashed his camera to the gunwale and hung on to the side of the boat, while Sid tried to keep his eye on the finder, cutting it badly on the sharp edge, and I had all I could do to keep from being tossed out. Finally, now on a crest, then in a trough with mountainous wave entirely obscuring the wreck, we ground out seventy-five feet. Three hundred yards away was another wreck which had come to grief some weeks previously, and of this we got a silhouette on our way back. We found the whole town watching for us anxiously and characterizing its as foolhardy idiots. We were drenched to the skin and could get no dry clothes for five hours. It was an experience I would not have missed- nor would I care to repeat it."

We inserted the scenes in a picture taken later called The Castaways, and Mr. Marion declared that just to watch it on the screen made him seasick.

In March Mr. Olcott received word to return to New York and take charge of that studio, leaving the picture direction in Florida to Buel and me. Kenean Buel and I, determined to show what we were capable of, worked harder than ever before. We remained south five and a half weeks, and sent north two comedies and eight of the best southern dramas taken thus far.

On April 23 we boarded the Comanche of the Clyde Line, our old friend Captain Watson commanding, and three days at sea rendered us fit for the work awaiting us up north, although it was not all rest for we took the ship scenes of The Castaways en route.

[to be continued]

Original article, 1928.

Gene Gauntier, "Blazing the Trail," Woman's Home Companion, Volume 55, Number 12, December 1928, page 15, 16, 132, 134.

© 1997, David Pierce, on editing and revisions (if any)

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