The Silent Film Quarterly・!1
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The Silent Film Quarterly ——————————————————————————
Volume I, Issue 2 Winter 2015-16
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Table of Contents Editor’s Message
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Departments: In Their Own Words
Mae Tinee Selects the 12 Best Pictures of 1928, “How It Feels to Be a Comedian” by John Bunny, “The Six Next Sellers” by Adela Rogers St. Johns, “How I Earned My First Money” by Tom Mix, “Read this Before Voting,” “Movie Statistics” by Buster Keaton, “Glad I Cut My Hair” by Betty Compson
Silents In Review
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Blue Blazes Rawden (1918), Pollyanna (1920), Short Kilts (1924), Over the Fence (1917), Late to Lunch (1987)
Celluloid Collectibles
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Charles Epting
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Canco Beautebox Tins
Silent Star in Brief Harold Lockwood
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Original Features: The Charlie Chaplin Archives:
A Preview of Taschen’s Newest Publication
How Did They Do That?:
Debra Ann Pawlak
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Charles Epting
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Insights Into the Birth of Technicolor
The Man Who Plays:
A Conversation with Silent Film Pianist Cliff Retallick
Hollywood’s Silent Echoes A Tour of 1920s Film Locations
John Bengtson
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Sally Phipps at Essanay
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Robert L. Harned
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Joseph McAleer
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A Silent Star Begins Her Career
My Life—East and West
A Review of William S. Hart’s Autobiography
Classic Feature: My Beauty Recipe:
Various actresses
Style Tips from a Dozen Silent Legends
Interviews: Hollywood Celebrates the Holidays: Karie Bible & Mary Mallory
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Two Authors Discuss Their Latest Project
Film’s 1st King of Comedy:
Tony Susnick
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A Forthcoming Documentary on John Bunny
A Modern-Day Mack Sennett:
Keith Picot
An Actor/Director Emulates 1910s Slapstick
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Silent Film Quarterly! $15 annually (4 issues) $25 in Canada, $30 in the rest of the world ! Visit silentfilmquarterly.com for more information
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Editor’s Message
Silent Film Quarterly has made it to its second issue! And not only that—this one is four pages longer than the first. That may not seem like a lot, but I look at every opportunity to bring more content to the readers as a small victory. Feedback about the first issue has been absolutely amazing so far. Subscriptions have continued to come in from all corners of the globe, with the first issue finding its way to New Zealand, Japan, Germany, and the UK. Production numbers are much higher than anticipated, which for me is a very promising sign that silent films are alive and well. Little did I expect to have this kind of response from such a niche magazine. Already some very exciting things are lining up for Issue 3, including new articles and interviews that I’m thrilled to share with the world. A lot of people have their own unique spin to put on the silent era, and I’m thankful that Silent Film Quarterly is providing an outlet for these voices to be heard. If you have an article you’d like to pitch, please get in touch, as I’m always looking to feature new and engaging content. Some exciting partnerships are in the works for the magazine. First and foremost, Flicker Alley recently shared Annette Lloyd’s article from Issue 1 both on their website and in their newsletter, leading to wide exposure for the magazine. More projects are planned for the near future, including a behind-the-scenes look at the company. Stay tuned as this and other partnerships are announced in the coming issues! You’ll notice that this issue features much more original content than reprinted material from the 1910s and 1920s—but that doesn’t mean it’ll always be like this! With such a wide range of material to cover in dealing with silent films the content of the magazine will always be variable. On the cover are two lesser-known silent stars, but I thought the picture had a timeless quality that would lend itself perfectly to a magazine cover. Richard Arlen has been a favorite of mine for some time, with brilliant performances in Beggars of Life and Feel My Pulse (in addition to his role in the famed Wings). Esther Ralston was one of the most beautiful women of the silent era, but never matched the fame of fellow Paramount stars Bebe Daniels and Clara Bow. Figures Don’t Lie, the Eddie Sutherland-direct film from which the cover image is taken, unfortunately appears to be lost. In closing, thank you again for your support and patronage of Silent Film Quarterly. I never could have anticipated such a positive response, and I do hope that this issue lives up to the standard set by the first. Your editor, Charles Epting
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Write for Silent Film Quarterly!
Want to write for Silent Film Quarterly? The magazine is always looking for interesting original content about the silent era, including feature articles and reviews of silent films. Please contact the editor at charleseptingauthor@gmail.com if interested or for more information.
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In Their Own Words Primary sources from the silent era ・・・
Mae Tinee Selects the 12 Best Pictures of 1928
From Chicago Daily Tribune, December 30, 1928 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12.
The Gaucho The Last Command Simba: King of the Beasts Sorrell and Son Speedy Sadie Thompson Dawn Street Angel Mother Knows Best The Patriot The Man Who Laughs The Home Towners ・・・
How It Feels to Be a Comedian By John Bunny From Louisville Courier-Journal, December 13, 1914
How does it feel to be a comedian? You know how it feels. At least, you have known. There isn’t a human being alive who isn’t a comedian at heart, who wouldn’t get a laugh from his friends, or his wife, or his mother-in-law every day if he could. And if there is a human being alive who has never experienced the tingling satisfaction of the surging triumph of getting that laugh he is a creature too miserable to contemplate. Laughter is the solution of life; laughter is life; laughter daily makes it possible to go on. There is only one delight that is keener than that of a joke, a comment, or a gesture at which you spontaneously laugh and that is the delight of making other people, a whole crowd of people, laugh with you. Making other people laugh is the greatest game in the world—and we are all playing it. Some of us are professionals; most of us are
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amateurs; that is all. We all like tears, I suppose, or we would not shed them so easily. But what is the good of tears, unless it is to increase our delight in laughter? If the tragic spirit is always hovering over us, always the comic spirit is just around the corner. For the comic spirit, which is the spirit of laughter, is a rough and ready and everyday sort. It is above us or beneath us—it is of us. Laughter is wind; sadness is a cloud. The wind of laughter—and nothing else—may dispel the cloud of sadness. What better job in life could a man hope for than to be a wind of laughter? None. Unless to be a gale, a gale of laughter blowing round the world! I said that we were all comedians at heart and that the only difference is that some of us are professionals while most of us are amateurs. The professional has one advantage over the amateur and one disadvantage. The professional gets more laughs in a day than the amateur—he wouldn't be long a professional otherwise— not for long. But the professional has to get more laughs than the amateur. The amateur can spend a whole evening getting one laugh out of his mother-in-law and go to sleep with a smile of self-gratulation on his lips because he did get it. Imagine the predicament of a professional who got one laugh from one mother-in-law in an evening! No. One laugh in an evening is not enough for the professional comedian. He must get one laugh a minute, at the least, and not on one evening but on many. He cannot take an evening off in respect to his private troubles. He cannot indulge himself because he has a cold in his head, or the blue devils, or ennui. His business is to get laughs and he must get them with the regularity of a rapid-fire gun. And sometimes his knowledge is a weight on his mind. What if he should fail? What if the quip that has brought them up standing should leave them in cold silence? Every comedian has had that experience. A bit that has proved absolutely sure-fire for a
The Silent Film Quarterly・!5 hundred nights will suddenly go flat. There are the rows of faces, each one looking very much like every other, and—horror of horrors—each one as still, as patient, as glum, as the faces of the passengers in street cars going home at night. Then it is that the comedian's heart rises in his breast, and his knees tremble under him, and the sweat rolls down his chest and—he does his best or his worst. But when they do laugh and one laugh begets another and you can’t mop your face or open your mouth without setting them off into guffaws! Then the comedian really lives, then he rides the upper air. Then he is a conqueror beside whom Christopher Columbus was a scared adventurer, afraid to go home, and Napoleon a little man with a frown. When his audience is with him he is the king men, he is one with the elements which none can resist. ・・・
The Six Next Sellers By Adela Rogers St. Johns From Photoplay, March 1922
A consensus of expert opinion of the coming personalities of the screen: 1. Conrad Nagel 2. Rudolph Valentino 3. Cullen Landis 4. Colleen Moore 5. Madge Bellamy 6. Lila Lee ・・・
How I Earned My First Money By Tom Mix From McClure’s, August 1927
The first money I earned came from trapping rabbits. If I remember rightly I built traps and snares and sold my catch at the rate of two rabbits for a nickel. In my youthful days a small boy regarded a nickel as a lot of real and ready money. Parents in those days did not consider it wise to supply children with spending money. Any time a boy managed to become the owner
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of a little loose change, he got out and hustled for it. At about this time my youthful soul of eleven yearned for a saddle—a saddle of my very own. My only chance to keep from riding bareback came when one of the grown cowboys took a day off and was generous enough to loan me his saddle. Incidentally, I might mention that cowhands, then and now, think a lot of their saddles and are about as willing to loan them as a man today is willing to lend his automobile. Wherefore it was that a saddle was a thing greatly to be desired. I decided that the rabbit business held forth few saddle promises, and that something else should be done. An eastern relative had sent me a rifle for Christmas, but it was a 22-caliber, boy’s pattern and not much use for hunting or anything else, but it gave me an idea. About three miles from my father’s ranch was a small Texas town, and on its principal street was an unused paint shop. I knew the owner. Would he let me use it for a shooting gallery? He would. Always more or less of a mechanical turn of mind, I rigged up all kinds of targets, swinging and fixed. To this day I still think I made the first bunch of movable target ducks, which I worked with a cord and a home-made windlass. I invested my rabbit money for some ammunition and “opened up.” Shooting galleries I had seen in El Paso gave two shots for a nickel, but desiring business I priced mine at three for five cents. My business venture proved a fair success. Day by day my profits grew, and night by night I estimated my totals. A man named Joe Gluntz kept the saddle and harness store of that little Texas town, and I think I priced every saddle in his establishment at least twenty times. One especially caught my eye. I liked its trimmings and its cinches. It was a boy’s saddle, and the price was $31.50. One night I got a great thrill. My little bank now contained $29.10. I needed just