Looking 'em Over
WITH
GAIL GARDNER
. Five Star Motion Picture Editor.
Hollywood.
DEAR FOLKS:
Some people could raise a tempest in a tea
pot just by drinking out of a saucer.
Anyhoo, that's what your correspondent discov
ered out on the "Captain January" set where lit
tle curly Shirley was going through the last two
sequences in her latest picture, which is just
chock full of coast guard cutters, lighthouses and
rocky Maine coasts.
When we saw the dirty, oily waterfront and the
pounding sea beyond we turned instinctively to
Dave Butler, director, with :
"Reginald Ringrose, are you going to hesitate
now when one step will take you off that wharf?"
"Quiet, please," came in shouts from all corners
of the set. "Quiet, p-l-e-a-s-e."
So we settled down in the shadows and watched
from thereon, feeling as ineffective as the guy who
tried to get a bucket of maple, syrup out of the
Petrified Forest.
THE baffling location question, the problem of de
vising a waterfront which could be used
throughout the picture, had ' been satisfactorily
solved by William Darling, art director, who
brought forth his trusty old tank for the job. On
the tankful of water floated fishing boats and a
7'
Shirley, Temple with Buddy Ebsen In "Captain January."
coast guard cutter, while "agitators" on three
Sides manned by crews of husky workmen, cre
ated realistic waves.
Vaporized mineral oil, cooled over dry ice, pro
vided fog which clung close to the water it's
breaking my heart to divulge these secrets.
And over to. the right Jack Donohue, former
Broadway dancer and now an instructor at Fox,
was trying hard to teach young Miss Temple to
"truck."
Shirley was required to do a dance with Buddy
Ebsen, another dancing star, along the "water
front." .
Each time Shirley tried her steps, she failed. In
desperation Donohue sought out Bill Robinson, the
uce of truckers.
"Shirley knows how to truck," replied Bill,
" 'cause I taught her."
But when Bill went to Shirley and told her that,
she floored everyone with a remarkable bit of pro
fessional ethics. "Bill," she returned, "I'm not go
ing to tell Mr. Donohue your secrets."
THE filming went along smoothly until little Jerry
Tucker, 10 years old, was cast as Shirley's nem
esis in a schoolroom sequence. Then Shirley dis
played the genuine Hollywood temperament.
Shirley was tremendously jealous of Jerry's abil
ity and was out to show him up. But Jerry went
through his scenes with two takes. Shirley had two
pages of dialogue which Director Butler planned
to break up with close and medium shots.
But, when Shirley started there was no stopping
her.
She waded into those two pages without a hitch
Even though they're under contract, young motion picture actresses still have to go to school to learn to act! These
photos, made at Twentieth Century-Fox Film studios, show activities In the school, directed by Miss Lillian Barkley.
Left to right: Virginia Paxton, a pupil, performs difficult dance step; Dixie Dunbar, now featured player; Miss
Barkley, teacher and principal: Miss Barkley's Monday morning weight check-in. The girls are Philllpa Hllber, on
scales; Marlon Weldon, Frances Paxton, Geneva Sawyer, Esther Brodelet and Lucille Miller.
Here's a Strange School Where Fox
Players Learn to Walk; Talk and Act!
Film Company Teacher Keeps Eagle Eye On the Weights Of Her Pupils and Her Courses Run
From Pantomime To Dancing and Singing; Graduates Are Successful, Too
By Donna Risher
9 W
KS-p" J
Donna Risher
LILLIAN BARKLEY, in plain, business-like dress
quickly entered the school room at Fox Studios,
looked over her class of pupils and remarked:
"June Lang has just received her fourth leading
role in eight weeks. I should think that would in
spire all of you to get to work in
earnest."
A bright chorus of "ohs" and
"ahs" went up. Then Shirley
Deane, a tall blond youngster
from Fresno, Calif., who is con
sidered one of the most apt,
spoke up.
"Oh, Miss Barkley, I'm so glad
for June," she exclaimed. "I'm
going to study harder than ever.
I took off that extra five pounds
you spoke of last week. And I
studied my voice lesson for three
whole hours and . . ."
Miss Barkley smiled. "All right,
Shirley," she cut in, "I'll soon find out how much
you have studied when we go over the morning
lessons."
THE lessons in the Fox Film Btock school, how
ever, did not begin until Miss Barkley, the coach,
had lined up her pupils before the scales.
With pad and pencil in hand she weighed each
girl carefully to see that no gain in weight had
occurred over the week-end.
The coach took this occasion to instruct her
students in discipline. "If you can't discipline your
selves sufficiently to keep your proper weight," she
said, "then you might just as well forget the pic
ture business. Because this business demands
discipline, hard, . uncompromising discipline from
the first to the last."
The pantomime class came' next. Miss Barkley's
students joined with older groups, including a few
adult males. Here a lesson in expression and in
pantomime continued throughout the regular study
period.
Later in the afternoon the students went
through their dancing and singing lessons, round
ing out the day by presenting a little playlet for
their teacher.
AT THE conclusion Miss Barkley seemed pleased
with results.
"They are encouraged today," the coach said,
"because of the success of their former school
mates, June Lang and Dixie Dunbar. These two
girls had natural talent to begin with. But natural
talent is useless unless it is 'polished up'. It must
be supplemented with diction, tone quality, pan
tomime and expression.
"I preach to my girls, " she added, "that oppor-
and at such speed that Butler was confounded.
"That's marvelous, Shirley," complimented Bu
ler, "but what's the grand rush?"
Shirley cast a sidelong glance at Jerry.
"I thought," she returned, "that you had forgot
ten, maybe, that. I was in the picture."
Which proves as old Ben Johnson used to say
to Cardinal Richelieu in the Bull's Head Tavern,
"You never can tell when baby talk will come out
of a full-grown beard."
Cordially yours,
GAIL.
tunity is of use only to those who are equipped to
grasp it. And the opportunity in this school is
great.
"The Fox studios maintain this school, free of
charge to the students for the purpose of giving
these promising young women the right founda
tion work which will prepare them for careers in
pictures. They have nothing to do but to apply
themselves."
IT ISN'T all school work for the stock players,
though. They are frequently used as "atmos
phere" in everything from cafe scenes to drawing
room sequences: Some of the girls "double in
brass" in chorus work and are known' as "show
girls" girls who can do chorus routines. Some
times they get a "bit" that is to say, they speak
a line or two.
They're under contract but that high sounding
phrase doesn't, in this instance, mean a great deal,
for salaries to stock people aren't up in the star
and featured player class.
Only three of the group of stock players are
daughters of California. Julie Cabanne arrived by
way of Hollywood, Shirley Deane is from Fresno
and Philippa Hilber is from Los Angeles.
Girls whose accents require liss Barkley's
special attention are Lynn Ban from Roanoke,
Virginia, Mary Blackwood from Alexandria,
Louisiana, and Anita Thompson from Dallas,
Texas.
Illinois claims Esther Brodelet of Chicago and
Fred Wallace from Peoria. Marion Weldon comes
from Duluth, Minn., while Geneva Sawyer hails
from Minneapolis. Ann Nagel and Paul McVty
hail from Boston. Dorothy Dearjng comes from
Parachute, Colo., Patricia Farr is a former resi
dent of Kansas City and William Stelling claims
Weehawken, New Jersey, as his home.
Gossip
FROM THE STUDIOS AND SOCIAL
CENTERS OF HOLLYWOOD
By Jane
Up
Victor Klllan
"But," he con-
The oute Kelly twins know when to smile for the
camera and they art making a tremendous hit at the
M-G-M studio, where they appear with Chester Morris,
who is holding them.
THIS may sound like a nightmare to some, but
to Victor Kilian it is his "great predicament."
Victor lives momentarily expecting an order which
will de-pant him.
He is determined to escape, if possible.
It all started back in New York when the actor
appeared in a play called "Valley Forge." For
comedy, Victor went through the play without
pants, always on the search for a nether garment
that would fit him. It was a running gag which
brought down the house and
which culminated in Victor ap
pearing "in the last act in a pair
of women's bloomers.
THE pants gag made Victor's
part outstanding. In fact, it
drew the attention of the movies
to him, but once here in Holly
wood, Victor hoped to do some
acting. To date, executives, writ
ers, directors and fellow actors
have kept suggesting that the
actor do his "pants routine."
With courage in hand, Victor has
quelled each and every suggestion.
hded, "a great fear is coming over me.
"Imagine making a bid to fame on a no-pants
basis.' Imagine being condemned never to wear
pants again. They have me scared. Now, I buy
two pairs of pants with every suit. I go over my
clothes daily in the closet to see that no one has
absconded with my trousers, thus forcing me into
my terrifying routine."
DIXIE DUNBAR'S first screen opportunity to
"act with my face Instead of my feet," was
given the little Georgia dancer with the assignment
of a featured role in "The -First .
Baby." Although she has achieved
high places with her dancing,
Dixie was beginning to believe the
studio execs thought of her as a
woman without a voice.
IT WAS embarrassing, to say the
least, when Dr. Joel Pressman,
husband of Claudette Colbert,
forgot his own telephone number.
Dr. Pressman arrived on the set
promptly at 6 p. m., to take his
wife home. She had already been
dismissed for the day. He sought
out the telephone, then fumbled through his
pockets. He couldn't find his telephone number.
He asked everyone around the set without luck.
He tried the studio telephone operator and was
informed the number was "private."
In desperation, Dr. Pressman made the rounds
of Directors' Row, knocking at doors. Finally he
located Director Frank Lloyd, who provided him
with the sought-for number of his own home.
Pressman then wrote the number in his hat
so he wouldn't lose it.
NO ACTOR can be Important in Hollywood, it
must be understood, without a swimming pool.
So, with a real stroke of genius, Michael Whalen,
who is being whirled along with a star-bound wind,
has settled the vital matter of how to acquire
position at the least possible expense.
He has rented himself a Hollywood hilltop home
with a swimming pool, a fact which makes him a
blood brother to the film elect. But Mike's pool is
different. It is as dry as the Sahara, and Mike says
it will stay that way for some time.
It costs $40 minimum to fill one of these tiled
holes in the ground, and until his streak of lUck
recently, young Whalen thought $10 was the na
tional debt.
PAGE FIVE-B
Dixie Dunbar