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The Moving Picture Girls: First Appearances in Photo Dramas, a novel by Laura Lee Hope |
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Chapter 7. Alice Changes Her Mind |
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_ CHAPTER VII. ALICE CHANGES HER MIND Filled with enthusiasm over his new project for aiding Mr. DeVere, Russ Dalwood caught Alice by the hand, and guided her steps with his. She had been about to turn off at a corner, to carry out her intention of seeking employment in one of the many manicure parlors on a certain street. Now she hesitated. "Well," asked Russ, impatiently, "don't you like the idea?" "Oh, it's fine--it's splendid of you!" Alice replied, with fervor, "but you know----" She hesitated, her cheeks taking on a more ruddy hue. There was an uncertain look in her brown eyes. "Well, what?" asked Russ, smilingly. "Surely you don't mind going with me to the manager's office? It's a public place. Lots of girls go there, looking for engagements." "Oh, no, it isn't that!" she hastened to assure him. "Or, if you don't like going with me, I can give you a note to Mr. Pertell, the manager. I know him quite well, as I've been negotiating with him about my patent." "Oh, Russ, you know it isn't that!" she exclaimed. "And, if you like, we'll go back and get Ruth. Maybe that would be better!" he exclaimed eagerly, and as Alice looked into his honest gray eyes she read his little secret, and smiled at him understandingly. "Oh, never that!" she cried gaily. "Ruth would be the last one in the world to be let into this secret, until it is more assured of success. Besides, I guess when you walk with Ruth you don't want me," she challenged. "Oh, now----" he began. "That's all right. I understand," she laughed at him. "No, we won't tell Ruth." "Then you'll go and see the manager--I know he'll give your father a trial, and that's all that's needed, for I'm sure he can do the acting. And they're always looking for new characters. Come on!" Once more, in his enthusiasm, he tried to lead her down the street. But she hung back. "No, really, Russ," she said earnestly enough now, and her eyes took on a more grave and serious look. "It isn't that. It's only--well, I might as well tell you, though it may be rather mean after your kindness. But my father thinks the movies are so--so vulgar! There--I've said it." She looked at her companion anxiously. To her surprise Russ laughed. "So, you were afraid of hurting my feelings; were you?" he asked. "Yes," she answered, in a low voice. "Nothing like that!" he assured her. "I've heard worse things than that said about the movies. But I want to tell you that you're wrong, and, with all due respect to him, your father is wrong too. There's nothing vulgar or low about the movies--except the price." He was becoming really enthusiastic now. His voice rang, and his eyes sparkled. "I'm not saying that because I make my living at them, either," Russ went on. "It's because it's true. The moving picture shows were once, perhaps, places where nice persons didn't go. But it's different now. All that has been changed. Why, look at Sarah Bernhardt, doing her famous plays before the camera? Even Andrew Carnegie consented to give one of his speeches in front of the camera, with a phonograph attachment, the other day." "Did he, really?" cried Alice. "He certainly did. And a lot of the best actors and actresses in this and other countries aren't ashamed to be seen in the movies. They're glad to do it, and glad to get the money, too, I guess," he added, with a grin. "I think it would be the very thing for your father. Of course, if his voice had held out he might like it better to be an actor on the real stage. But in the movies he won't have to talk. He'll just have to act. Then, when his voice gets better, as I hope it will, he can take up the legitimate again." "Oh, I know his heart is set on that!" exclaimed Alice. "But don't you think he'd consider this?" asked Russ. He was very anxious to help--Alice could tell that. "I--I'm afraid he wouldn't," confessed the girl. "He thinks the movies too common. I know, for I've heard him say so many times." "They're not common!" defended Russ, sturdily. "The moving pictures are getting better and better all the while. Of course some poor films are shown, but they're gradually being done away with. The board of censorship is becoming more strict. "Common! Why do you know that it costs as much as $20,000, sometimes, to stage one of the big plays--one with lots of outdoor scenes in it, burning buildings, railroad accidents made to order, and all that." "Really?" cried Alice, her eyes now shining with excitement. "That's right!" exclaimed Russ. "I'm just at the beginning of the business. I've learned the projecting end of it so far. Almost anyone can put the film in the machine, switch on the light, get the right focus and turn the handle. But it's harder to film a real drama with lots of excitement in it--outdoor stuff--cattle stampeded--the sports of cowboys--a fake Indian fight; it takes lots of grit to stand up in front of an oncoming troop of horsemen, and snap them until they get so close you can see the whites of their eyes. Then if they turn at the right time--well and good. But if there's a slip, and they ride into you--good-night! Excuse my slang," he added, hastily. "Did that ever happen?" she asked, eagerly. "Well, if not that, something near enough like it. I've heard the operators--those who take the negatives--tell of 'em many a time. That's what I'm going to be soon--a taker of the moving picture plays instead of just projecting them on the screen. Mr. Pertell has promised to give me a chance. He's organizing some new companies. "Just as soon as I get my patent perfected he's promised to put it on his machines. Then I'm going with his company." "Did you hear any more about that man you say tried to steal your invention?" asked Alice. "Who, Simp Wolley? Oh, yes, he's been sneaking around after me, and I told him what I thought of him. He's got another fellow in with him--Bud Brisket--and he's about the same type. But I'm not going to worry about it." "Don't be too confident," warned Alice. "I've heard of many inventors whose patents were gotten away from them." "Thanks, I'll be careful. But just now I'm interested in getting your father to take up this work. I know he'll like it, once he tries it. Won't you come and see the manager? I'm sure he'll give your father a trial." Alice stood in deep thought for a moment. Then with a little gesture, as though putting the past behind her, she exclaimed: "Yes, Russ, I will, and I thank you! I told Ruth I was going to do something, and I am. If father can get an engagement I won't have to go to work. Not that I'm ashamed to work--I love it!" she added hastily. "But I wouldn't like to be a public manicurist, and that's the only situation that seemed open to me. I will go see your manager, Russ, and I'll do my best to get father to take up this work. It's quite different from what I thought it was." "I knew you'd say that," chuckled Russ. "Come on." "What would Ruth say if she saw me now?" Alice asked, as she and Russ walked off together. "She would certainly think I was defying all conventionality." "Don't worry." Russ advised her. "It's the sensible thing to do. And I'll explain to Ruth, too." "Oh, I believe you could explain to anyone!" Alice declared with enthusiasm. "You've made it so clear and different to me. But how do they make moving pictures?" "You'll soon see," he answered. "We're going to one of the film studios now. This is about the time they begin to make the scenes. It's very interesting." Soon they found themselves before a rather bare brick building. It had nothing of the look of a theater about it. There were no gaudy lithographs out in front, no big frames with the pictures of the actors and actresses, or of scenes from the plays. There was no box office--no tiled foyer. It might have been a factory. Alice's face must have shown the surprise she felt, for Russ said: "This is where the films are made. It's all business here. They make the inside scenes here--anything from the interior of a miner's shack to a ballroom in a king's palace. Of course, for outside scenes they go wherever the scenery best suits the story of the play. And here the film negatives are developed, and duplicate positives made for the projecting machines. This is Mr. Pertell's principal factory." "Fancy a play-factory!" exclaimed Alice. "That's exactly what it is--a play-factory," agreed Russ. "Come on in." If Alice was surprised at the exterior appearance of the building the interior was more bewildering. They passed rapidly through the departments devoted to the mechanical end of the business--where the films were developed and printed. Russ promised to show her more of that later. "We'll go right up to the theatre studio," he said. Alice looked about the big room, that seemed filled with all sorts of scenery, parts of buildings, rustic bridges--in short, all sorts of "props." She had been behind the scenes often in some of the plays in which her father took part, so this was not startlingly new to her. Yet it was different from the usual theatre. And such strange "business" seemed going on. There were men and women going through plays--Alice could tell that, but the odd part of it was that in one section of the room what seemed a tragedy in a mountain log cabin was being enacted; while, not ten feet away, was a parlor scene, showing men in evening dress, and women in ball costumes, gliding through the mazes of a waltz. Next to this was a scene representing a counterfeiter's den in some low cellar, with the police breaking through the door with drawn revolvers, to capture the criminals. And in front of these varied scenes stood a battery of queer cameras--moving picture cameras, looking like flat fig boxes with a tube sticking out, and a handle on one side, at which earnest-faced young men were vigorously clicking. And, off to one side, stood several men in their shirt sleeves superintending the performances. They gave many directions. "No, not that way! When you faint, fall good and hard, Miss Pennington!" "Hurry now, Mr. Switzer; get in some of that funny business! Look funny; don't act as though this was your funeral!" "Come on there Mr. Bunn; this isn't 'Hamlet.' You needn't stalk about that way. There's no grave in this!" "Hold on, there! Cut that part out. Stop the camera; that will have to be done over. There's no life in it!" And so it went on, in the glaring light that filtered in through the roof, composed wholly of skylights, while a battery of arc lamps, in addition, on some of the scenes, poured out their hissing glare to make the taking of the negatives more certain. Alice was enthralled by it all. She stood close to Russ's side, clasping his arm. Many of the men engaged in taking the pictures knew the young operator, and nodded to him in friendly fashion, as they hurried about. Some of the actors and actresses, too, bowed to the young fellow and smiled. He seemed a general favorite. "Isn't it wonderful?" whispered Alice. "I had no idea the making of a moving picture was anything like this!" "I thought you'd change your mind," replied Russ, with a laugh. "But you haven't seen half of it yet. Here comes Mr. Pertell now. I'll speak to him about your father." _ |
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