36 



THE WORLD'S ADVANCE 



the spidery framework of a huge steel 

 building that could just be seen in the 

 distance. 



"That will be the new factory of the 

 Universal/' he continued, "the finest 

 moving picture plant in the world. Jer- 

 sey along the Palisades is the home of 

 independent movies, you know. Half a 

 dozen other companies besides ourselves 

 have sprung up are doing a big busi- 

 ness here now." 



He smiled. "I'll wager that per square 

 mile, more drama is made and put up in 

 tin cans in this locality than any other 

 place in the world! Down the road a 

 little way is the Solax just around the 

 bend are the Peerless and Hillit Stu- 

 dios. Others come and go over night. 

 You can't walk through one of the streets 

 in this neighborhood without running the 

 risk of becoming an involuntary moving 

 picture actor!" 



A Question of Sunlight 



We had drawn up before a long, low 

 yellow building, before which a small 

 wooden sign was swinging to the breeze. 

 It read, simply : "Champion Studios." In 

 the back, a glass-covered structure, rear- 

 ing to a height of thirty or forty feet, 

 glittered in the warm spring sun like a 

 huge floral conservatory. To all appear- 

 ances the Champion was a faithful rep- 

 lica of the studios on the Pacific Coast; 

 and, as a matter of fact, the conditions 

 for photography along the New Jersey 

 palisades closely resemble those which 

 exist at Los Angeles. 



Actinic conditions, for picture making, 

 so they boast in the West, are the finest 

 in the world. Yet the Jersey producers 

 claim identically the same thing. 



"New Jersey sunlight," so one direc- 

 tor told me, "cannot be equaled in any 

 part of the world. Italian skies may be 

 blue, but Jersey skies are bluer! We 

 are several hundred feet above the Hud- 

 son River, and the air is remarkably 

 clear. Just look at that sky !" 



It was a pure, robins-egg crystal-blue, 

 and the sun was dazzling. California 

 and New Jersey, three thousand miles 

 apart by bird line, are indeed remarkably 

 alike in blueness of sky and brightness 



of sun. Possibly the nearness of the 

 ocean has some influence in both cases. 



Under the crystal roof of the Cham- 

 pion, a rural sheriff's office was being 

 erected. Harry Meyers, who follows a 

 double life there as director-in-chief and 

 leading man, was reading a letter aloud 

 in tones unmistakably vehement. This 

 was not a part of the filmed drama at 

 all. He was angry in earnest. 



"Just listen to this !" he shouted, wav- 

 ing the letter in the direction of the 

 other members of the company. "You 

 cannot grasp a girl's ankle with a leer 

 and you cannot spit tobacco juice!" 



The letter, we could plainly see, was 

 typed on the official stationery of the 

 National Board of Censorship. 



He turned to his leading lady, Miss 

 Thelby. "Rose," he demanded, "did you 

 ever see me grasp a girl's ankle with a 

 leer, or spit tobacco juice in a picture?" 



"Of course not, Harry," she laughed. 



"It makes me tired," he grumbled. 

 "Just because certain so-called actors pull 

 off that rough stuff, we innocents get 

 insulting letters like this!" 



Harry Myers is a typical westerner in 

 appearance, although not in reality. He 

 is large and powerful of build, and he 

 smokes Turkish cigarettes incessantly. 

 He was attired, that day, rather curi- 

 ously half western, half rural. The net 

 result was largely a problem in the mind 

 of the beholder. A bright red skull cap 

 was perched recklessly on one side of 

 his head. The rest of the costume was 

 made up of a light shirt, open at the 

 throat, riding trousers, cloth puttees and 

 heavy yellow boots. 



When I questioned him, he laughed. 

 "Why, I'm a simple little farmer boy, 

 and Rose, over there, fresh from the 

 bright lights of Broadway, is a simple 

 little farmer girl." 



In their startling make-up and odd- 

 looking costumes they resembled any- 

 thing but the parts they were creating. 

 But when I saw the picture in a theatre 

 some time later, the miracle which trans- 

 pires in the lens of transforming arti- 

 ficiality and inconsistency into the truest 

 realism became a little more apparent. 



The story is told of a famous actor of 

 the stage who once performed before a 

 camera. The first time he saw the fin- 



