Glacier County chief. [volume], February 04, 1938, Magazine Section, Image 11

About Glacier County chief. [volume] (Browning, Mont.) 1931-1940

Image provided by: Montana Historical Society; Helena, MT

                
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WMUeo of wedlolM la Montana dS reaie
A Hollywood Interlude
CAST OF CHARACTERS
JUNE BLAIN, who won a beauty contest In lowa and came to Hollywood.
BARBARA HOPE, famous cinema beauty.
BARNEY SLOAN, a Hollywood writer of national reputation.
JACK JARNEGAN, motion picture director.
JIMMY FALON, his assistant.
HARRY KENT, a middle aged motion picture actor.
By JIM TULLY <?>
THE LESSON A “MIGHT
HAVE BEEN” LEARNS
FROM A FAMOUS MOVIE
STAR -
(Copyright 1938: by Jim Tully)
Published by Special Arrangement With The
Chicago Tribune-New York News Syndicate.
Incorporated
IN TWO PARTS—PART ONE
IT was raining fiercely in Holly
wood. Huge luminous blue clouds
rolled over the mountains. Rain
drops splashed on the half deserted
streets as though drawn by strong
and angry hands. A forlorn group
waited in the outer room of The Gen
eral Casting Office. A window was
jerked open and a young man said
tersely, "Nothing today, folks.’’ It was
slammed with a loud noise.
The group walked slowly toward the
street and disappeared in the rain
slashed weather.
"I always feel like the executioner
‘•y«ap, / know her tickets punched one way -o ehort life”
when I send people away like that.’’
The young fellow who had slammed
the window turned to three men seated
about a table.
"No one asked them to be actors.’’
said a man whose temples were
touched with gray.
"But it’s a tough life just the same.’’
The speaker was beyond forty, and
strong as the oak chair in which he
sat. "You’ve never had to rustle for
a dime, have you, Kent"
The man with the gray temples
looked at his powerful questioner.
"Not exactly.”
"I thought not," was the return.
"Well, I have—"
"But you came through.” The
speaker rubbed his gray temple.
“I’ll say," ejaculated the young fel
low who had slammed the window’.
"Fifty cents a word—ttie highest priced
interviewer in the world.”
He looked at the turgid water run
ning down the window. t
"That’s what you think, said the
interviewer, whose heavy shoulders,
immense head and soft blue eyes gave
no evidence of the penetration for
which he was famous. "There’s a piece
of my heart in every stoiy.
He glanced about as if expecting
contradiction, and resumed. "They re
all blind horses going over the same
bridge—the big yarn never makes the
silly page of glamour unless success
iS "People don’t want to read about
failure” The man ’with the gray
temples, handsome, debonair, mo\ed
^"Not until they know’ what it is.
The interviewer’s words took on a
mocking tone “Of course Harry Kent
would™ know that—you’ve been on
thp knees of the gods all your hf*•
Kent stroked his gray temple. ‘ '
be you’re right, Barney—but Ive had
^l^V^levS' Slight laughter
f °”°"!lde my way here," Kent said.
“Because women liked your look.>—
suDDose you’d been cross-eyed then
whe^ would you've been on the
“/^“though the question were too
dcon Kent did not answer.
■■Remember, Harry, Ive seen them
come and go here—men and women
ju” as good looking as you—who cou “
act—they didn't get to first base-the
ffame was called on account of dark
ness or rain—or something—the wrong
b Kent7‘^ S arehed with Indifference.
“You remember June Blain?" the
interviewer asked.
agree she had every
thing—too sweet, confiding andJovefr’
oerhans—and not bold and cheap Ilk.
a lot Of feminine beauties who waltz
their little and noisy hours to the last
° b Kent* smiled. “Jornegan’s right, Bar
ney—you talk like a running brook.
More exceptional than those he in
terviewed. Barney Sloan was a writer
°‘W
and his cockeyed cynicism—hes got to
hvp in this world until he dies—and
every^hour shouldn't be a melodrama
~"What°about June Blain, Barney?"
asked the youth who had slammed
^'tea’bit. She won a beauty-^n-
-w wM
incher ^ho^^ to^caatn^-
Hone when she passed her dressing
‘“-■My 8 ' God-how beautlfull’ She
to her makeup table. I could see in
ss’nswx.'xawsi;
GLACIER COUNTY CHIEF
in the interview—but if I had my way
I’d send every last one of these kids
back home. All they’ll ever get is
what the little boy shot at—nothing!’
The last word was like a bullet from
a gun.
"A knock came to the door. The
casting director stood with June Blain.
"She was a picture! Her com-silk
hair hung in immense curls. There
was something infinitely pathetic
about her—the budding beauty of a
woman combined with the wistfulness
of a child—who sees a dream far off
and cannot be made to realize that
dreams at last are ended. But you
soon forget all that in the glory of her
eyes. If I were a poet I might say that
they were bright with the fire in her
soul.
" ‘Miss Hope,’ the casting director
said, 'there’s a small part in your next
picture that I think Miss Blain here!
can play. She’s a direct contrast to |
you—eyes, hair, profile.’
" ‘And far more beautiful,’ Barbara
said, looking at the young girl, who
stood abashed, her cheeks the color of
red apples, before the famous cinema
beauty.
“ And where are you from, Miss
Blain' Barbara asked.
“'Keokuk. lowa.’
" 'lndeed —I’ve been there —it’s on
the Mississippi—the river rolls like a
horseshoe around the town.’ Barbara
Hope's eyes danced —‘I was born below
Quincy.’
" 'Really,' June's voice raised.
‘“Yes, indeed!’ Forgetful of make
believe, Barbara was a girl along the
river.
(To Be Continued)
A Hollywood
Samaritan
JIM TULLY
<Copyright 193" by Jim Tully>
Published by Special Arrangement With The
Chicago Tribune-New York News Syndicate.
Incorporated
IN TWO PARTS—PART TWO
Barney Sloan sighed in memory—
" She wasn’t so dumb. Oh, well, Jarne
gan and the other big shots moved in
later—but what did I give a damn—
her heart was as big as the main wait
ing room of the Grand Central, and
lovers were coining and going—some
were late for the train and had to walk
—but I had an easy chair near the in
formation clerk—when the banquet was
over, Dolores would telephone me.
Whatever I am as an interviewer came
right then —Dolores would say, "What
do you think of so and so. Barney?’—
and I’d get out the knife and start to
dissect."
The grout) did not move.
"One night I was there when Jona
than roared up in a car longer than a
Pullman. Dolores was in a leather chair
and a copper-colored maid played a
victrola. She loved Caruso in ’Carmen
and Alma Gluck’s ‘Land of the Sky
Blue Water’ and the maid played them
over and over. Caruso singing from the
grave vibrant as Gabriel with a horn
gave me the jitters and I got tighter n
a drum in a circus parade. In walked
Jonathan Mann. He was making more
in an hour than I was in a week—but
a Mick full of liquor has no superior—
and he was still the same sweet guy
as when we took the bus together. ’So
glad to see you here. Barney.’ he said.
‘You’ll have a chance to write the first
feature story on Dolores—she’s signing
a contract with Arkwright tomorrow
—a thousand a week the first film—it
doubles the second—and goes on.’
“The needle scratched the record.
‘Hey, Minnie,’ Dolores called, ‘let
Caruso go home —he’s tired.’ She turned
—’How much did you say, Jonathan?’
And he said it again.
‘“Well,’ Dolores shook her shoulders,
‘that’ll do.’ She didn’t know what money
was—he began to tell Dolores the out
line of the story she was to star In—
it was a lot of piffle—another movie—
but Jonathan had enthusiasm. You’d
have thought it was Balzac telling the
plan of the Comedic Humalne—that’s
a quality all these fellows have—even
Jamegan here—they’re all Barnums—
every film’s the greatest show on earth
to them.”
Jarnegan reached for Betty’s hand
and said. “You’re right. Barney—we’re
putting wood on the fire to scare our
souls away.”
He kissed Betty’s hand. "Pardon me,
Beautiful—you know what I mean.”
“Yea, Jack— but you and—Jonathan
—had so much to give.”
“Jonathan had—not me—he was a
thousands across the deep blue eky.
The moon glinted on yellow sand and
’Sy es ' A* l ol *ve colored cloud
hung above Catalina island.
resumed 8 ^ 8 eyes Swept
ev ®‘?' lx)d y knows that Dolores '
did a Camille in five years—lust iral
10P£S, with . tb. to the grave. ’
undertaker made her look as !
. death “ she’d been In I
M® s , sU ? htl y to one side
. a tired, beautiful girl on a pillow
P ^T. d ^ arn of lovers forever ended.
sound terrible to say it—but
.S i?/' 15 happy in his misery.
“Otri y it dawned on me that he was a
magnificent masochist—who loved to
rv.i^. Un ' i 5 ^ ed ' °£ c °urse he went to
Dolores stepmother and offered to de
fray all the funeral expenses. The poor
old woman was fluttery as a feather in
a breeze— and right away he gave her
two thousand dollars. She was so upset
s*}o. forgot she’d made an arrangement
with the undertaker—Dolores’ body was
to lie in state at his parlors—and tor
this fine advertisement there would be
no Ju ne , ral expenses. In the hurry and
nurry this detail was not mentioned
to Jonathan and the distracted step-
J £ or K°t to return the money.
But Dolores, like a tiger lily on a
bed of satin, drew a hundred thousand
people to the funeral parlor—and that
was the end of that for all concerned
except Jonathan. He was restless as
Hamlet for a while—and then he met
a girl who was beginning to go places
as an actress. She was little more than
a child—playful and friendly as a
kitten—not a malicious bone in her
body—she looked enough like Dolores
to be a twin and Jonathan was pre
sumably in love again.”
Barney glanced at Betty James. Her
eyes were on the Persian rug.
“Soon Effie Lind was deluged with
flowers, candy, jewelry. She was under
20 and he was beyond 40. He had been
content without marriage to any of
the glamorous girls. Now, by some mad
ness. he wanted to marry Effie. There
was a technicality involved. Though
Edna Le Brun was his wife in name
only, he had never had the heart nor
the inclination to put her aside. At
least that was the general assumption.
He made an airplane journey to New
York to discuss it with her. He returned
harried and worn. What might have
been a simple procedure for another
was to him a labyrinth of despairs and
indecisions. It was madness, no doubt,
too complex to explain away in one
lifetime.
"It is still a trifle misty, but I can
see it much plainer now. At any rate
his doorbell rang one midnight. In
stepped his demented wife. Here was
the master scenarist confronted with a
situation he had never devised on the
screen. She was now lucid and calm.
She’d been a well known actress at the
beginning of their romance. He was
nobody. He’d been everything to her.
She would add to his misery and joy
by her own type of punishment. When
he brought presents to the institution
where she was incarcerated, she would
refuse to see him.
"The wrath of a woman prematurely
aged and tired, the traces of a last
lingering beauty were upon her.
"In a city hot for scandal, here was
the big vam. I’d known her for a dozen
years, had carried messages to her
when she was out of the asylum. No
move had been made between them
without me. Poor Jonathan had gone
a far road from the days of the little
black bus. She was on his neck then,
and he succeeded in spite of her—and
here she was still around his neck. I
thought for a minute of the terrible
injustice of life—then gave it all up
as too hard a riddle—something had
to be done now.
"So I stepped in like a major general
and lied like a corporal. I painted a
picture of life made young—and the
two of them happy once again. She
couldn’t believe all she read in the
papers—and even if Jonathan did
marry another woman, he would always
be the same to her. There wasn’t a
word of sense to the whole business —
but she seemed satisfied.
"I’m no saint, God knows, and I often
think morals are the left over pancakes
in a cheap boarding house —but when
I took her home that night the motor
didn’t race as fast as my brain. She
kept looking straight ahead. I’d never
seen so much misery in a woman’s
eyes in all my misspent life. My heart
ached when she turned in at her small
hotel—that girl with the fancies in her
brain saying. 'Goodby, Barney—stay
with him as I know you will—he needs
you.’
“Well. I went back to Jonathan’s in
the morning and let myself in quietly.
And there was Jonathan —with a hole
in his head and a blue revolver at his
side with a towel wrapped around it.
“I’d been around rooms of death be
fore, and even if it was suicide I didn’t
intend to leave my fingerprints every
where—so I wiped off the door knobs
with my handkerchief, put the pass key
in my pocket and left the apartment.
I could hear the telephone ringing but
didn’t stop. My mind was on Jonathan’s
wife. I didn’t want her dragged into
it. So I did the smart thing, which
was nothing. No one knew she was in
Hollywood anyhow.
“Happening to think of the pass key.
I wiped it off with my handkerchief
and tossed it near the curbing, never
thinking what might happen.
"Tlio story broke in the afternoon
Charles M.
RUSSELL PRINTS
50 ^ en ^ s
Postpaid in the United States.
A complete list of subjects and picture sizes sent upon request.
Montana Newspaper Association
GREAT FALLS. MONTANA
papers. It was the nine days’ wonder
of the newspaper world. Every dead I
cinder in poor Jonathan’s life was made
to glow. You’d have thought he was
four Casanovas rolled into one, instead
of a poor devil in search of an illusion'
his intelligence might have told him
he never could find.
“The first thing you know that damn
key, three times magnified, was on the
front page—found near the famous
suicide's apartment. The reporters be
sieged my house. Could I identify the
portrait of Edna Le Brun? Though it
was an ancient picture, I knew it was
she, but hesitated to identify it right
away. When I finally did the reporters
rushed away with the news.
"The next morning my identification
and Edna’s picture were on the third
page. A headline of the front page
told the rest. Informed of Jonathan’s
death, Edna Le Brun had jumped off
a boat bound for Alaska.”
There was a stir in the room. The
wind again pushed the door open. As
Barney Sloan closed it, he heard a
i slight noise. Betty James was sobbing.
He stopped talking for a minute. It
might have been a movie set. A radio
I crooner could be heard down the beach:
“There little girl, don’t ery—
They have broken your heart,
I know,
And the rainbow gleams
Of your youthful dreams.
Are things of the long ago.”
When the words died away, Jack
Jamegan lifted Betty in his arms. "My
God—you’re worth them all. I’d pawn
my soul in hell for you.”
"Poor Jack,” she said, kissing him
through wet eyes. “You’re a little boy,
: who’s been badly hurt, like him.”
i Harry Kent had a far away expres
sion. "A lot of people went hungry when
;he died. I’ve seen him empty his
pockets to a beggar on the street."
Benson began to hum.
I “Shut up, nightingale,” commanded
Jamegan.
The surge of the sea became louder.
All listened to the threnody of mourn
ful sound.
“And they had a funeral sermon,"
continued Barney. “A ham actor told
how naive he was, how child-like. He
kept saying, ‘Jonathan was just a child’
—this silly and shallow jargon about
one of the greatest men who’d ever
worked in Hollywood.”
“Poor devil." said Jarnegan, "he went
from Sarah Bernhardt to Effie Lind—
that’s a far journey—but I should solve
the riddles of the universe. It’s late—
and I’ve got to be on the set at nine.”
“Yeap—he liked them glamorous—
to hear the wind rattling the tinsel in
their hearts.” Harry Kent moved
toward the door. “But I’m like Jack
nuts to it all. Come on. Betty—l’m tak
ing you home—you must have your
beauty sleep."
Betty rose. Again Jarnegan kissed her
hand. "Damn the luck—if he’d only
married you."
She smiled before the group. "Let us
drink a farewell toast to him.” Lovely
as dawn and vivid as bright blue
weather, she tipped the edge of each
glass with her own. “May the wind be
gentle to his glorious ashes.”
“Amen,” said Jarnegan, reverting to
the religion of his childhood.
She put the glass down. “Barney,"
she said, “I wonder if he realized how
much you understood.”
Barney smiled wearily, “I wonder if
you did. Betty?"
"Yes—very much—Goodnight. It was
Air Fares
Slashed
EXAMPLE OF ROUND TRIP
EXCURSION FARES
Great Falls
Los Angeles V i ji
(Regular Fare $109.00)
Take the Train or Bus and Connect
With the Airlines of Western Air Ex
press at Great Falls—Helena or Butte
—Two Planes Leaving These Points
Daily—Morning and Evening.
ADDRESS OR PHONE YOUR
INQUIRIES TO
^[XPRfSS A'A. |
Great Falls—Helena or Butte
» splendid party, Richard Come
xutfry.
^Jarnegan and Sloan looked out at
"Had she only married him," said
Jarnegan.
"Yes—but she wouldn’t," returned
Barney. "He’d been wanting her for a
dozen years. There wasn’t a minute he
wouldn’t have thrown all the others
aside—and she knew IV—and she knows
that I knew.”
"What the hell was wrong?” asked
Jamegan.
"Well, she always told him he was
married to Edna Le Brun in the sight
of God. He couldn’t get it out of her
head. Edna Le Brun had to be dead
first. Why, he wanted to marry Effie
Lind to forget Betty James. It was
crazy as hell—but that’s the way it
was."
“Well, Betty’s a jewel worth having.
The only untouchable in Hollywood.
They put her heart in the grave with
him."
His eyes followed Barney’s to the
cloud above Catalina island.
In several minutes Barney said,
“Remember the night, Jack, we all
three talked of the hereafter and
Jonathan said that no matter what
happened he’d never commit suicide?”
“So what?" asked Jamegan.
"Nothing—except his wife killed
Jonathan that night."
“How the devil do you know that?"
“She wrote me a letter before she
jumped off the boat. It was mailed at
Vancouver."
“Why didn’t you say something?"
“What for—it’ll be all the same in a
thousand years. I just burned the letter
—she’d got it in her head that poor
Jonathan was a heart breaker and had
to be killed.”
“And everybody missed that?” said
Jarnegan.
“Not exactly—it might have been
hushed up. The high moguls just about
decided that enough was enough—even
in Hollywood."
Jarnegan looked in amazement at
Barney. “Well. I’ll be damned —you
writers know everything.”
“Not everything. Jack —we can only
surmise what’s in Betty’s heart. She
wouldn't marry Jonathan until Edna
Le Brun was dead—and when she was,
it was too late—but even that’s not the
terribly ironical thing—Jonathan al
ways defended Hollywood—and he
added the weirdest chapter to its tinsel
history.”
“Oh, well,” said Jarnegan, "murder
will out—but this one didn’t.”
—THE END—
South Dakota state college calls
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mSISSCK
KENTUCKY STPAICHT
BOURBON WHISKEY
Thl» £m whUkey la M proof and IM
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COM 578, J PTS.: 57C, PTS.;
NOS. 57E, QTS.
UHlad By STITZEL-WILUR DM
TILLERY, Inc.. Shively, Ky.
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