Chapter II

_The myth of the “overnight” star--An instance of_
_success after long sustained effort--_
_What the beginner faces._

To become an artistic success one must assuredly be in love with the art he has elected to follow. In business or finance a so-called lucky stroke may make of a man or a woman a success without there being those qualities of esteem and enthusiasm for the thing itself that are so essential to artistic endeavor.

Such lucky strokes are rare in pictures. Appearances to the contrary, notwithstanding, motion picture stars are not made over-night. Every now and then some actor or actress begins to assert his or her right to cinema stardom. But if one will take the trouble to examine the records in such cases he will usually find that the privilege of stardom has come only after a slow climb.

There have been cases where producers have tried to “manufacture” stars. But, in the main, it hasn’t worked.

To recall one example: One of the shrewdest of our producers not long ago signed a young, beautiful and talented vaudeville actress to a long time motion picture contract. Screen tests proved that she photographed beautifully. She had the grace of carriage to be expected of the professional dancer. Her face was expressive. That a capable director would find in her all the qualities necessary for stardom the producer never doubted.

Thousands of dollars were spent in an ocean of advertising ink announcing the debut of this star. Her name was flashed from one end of the country to the other, indeed, around the world, in electric lights and on bill boards. Her photograph was published in the metropolitan dailies and small town papers. So far as the campaign was concerned it was an unqualified success. By the time the little star’s first picture was ready for release there had been built up about her a tremendous curiosity.

I own I was as curious as the next. I think the majority of us, who had attained stardom only after years of rigorous training, self denial and hard work, were interested, even anxious, to know if motion picture stars could be developed after the formula of this producer. It meant something to us.

If the magnitude of the motion picture actress was to be in proportion to the size of an introductory advertising campaign then our own position was none too secure.

As a star this little actress failed. Thanks to some natural talent her failure was not so disastrous as it might have been. But as a star, she was soon withdrawn. The fortune spent in exploiting her was gone, but not forgotten. As a proof of the impossibility of “manufacturing” stars under the most favorable of circumstances it probably served a purpose.

Why did she fail? Why would a baby, who had never walked, fail if she were told to run a foot race? She simply didn’t know how.

All the little important things that one can learn by nothing save experience, things which mean everything to successful screen acting, were missing in her work. She was like one trying to paint without knowing color, to compose without a knowledge of counter-point, to write without having learned grammar school English. Contrary to a tradition which exists in some localities the best swimmers are not developed by throwing the child into the water and telling him to sink or float.

There is another interesting point in the case which I have cited. When the plans to make this young lady an over-night star failed she became a featured player in a group. Surrounded by experienced, capable screen actors and relieved of the responsibility that stardom entails she has developed splendidly and is, in point of fact, a better actress today than she was when she was advertised as a star.

It has been simply a matter of training. If sometime in the future she is again starred she will be prepared to make a better job of it.

I have brought up this case because it has been my observation that there exists a feeling that in motion pictures anybody can be a star anytime. There is talk of influence, managerial favoritism, luck and, goodness knows, what not? There may be truth to some of these assertions.

But the year in and year out stars--Mary Pickford, Dorothy and Lillian Gish, William Hart, Mme. Nazimova, Douglas Fairbanks, Charles Ray, etc.--are those who stand solidly on the ground of genuine merit.

And the solidity of their stance is usually determined by the amount of their natural talent, plus the excellence and length of their training.

I believe many people have the habit of falling in love with an idea. The idea of becoming a motion picture star is appealing. But like many other general conceptions the idea of the star’s life--as gathered from a smoothly displayed picture drama or a magazine article portraying the artist’s home, her automobile and her pets--is misleading.

Robert Louis Stevenson wept in despair over the composition of many of his stories. A great many of us have had occasion to weep over our own more modest efforts. We have found, indeed, that the most beautiful roses are very often those with the cruelest thorns.

It has been proved that motion picture stars cannot be made over-night. It is equally true that many promising actresses do not become stars--in the accepted professional sense of the word--even after long years of work.

I suppose if I said that nobody can succeed in motion pictures and that the star is the exception to the rule I should be accused of being a pessimist. Yet that is more nearly the truth than may appear on the surface.

Consider, for instance, the thousands of actors and actresses who have appeared before a camera in the past decade. After you have done that count the number of genuine stars now before the public. You can name the majority of them on the fingers and thumbs of four hands.

Yet in the heart of each of the thousands, who have stepped before the batteries of motion picture cameras, there was undoubtedly the hope that natural ability, circumstance or hard work would bring success.

It is well to take this into consideration when one looks toward the screen for a career.

But sometimes this law of average is defeated by that exceptional person whose faith is undiminished, whose confidence in one’s self is boundless and whose capacity for work never flags.

Let me cite you the case of one of the best known young actresses on the screen who, as this is written, has never enjoyed the full privileges of stardom though she has shared most of its disadvantages.

She began her screen career more than a half dozen years ago. She was frail, and slow to absorb the lessons of the screen. Even her dearest friends never imputed to her a great natural acting talent.

But this young lady was dauntless. She kept everlastingly at it. By systematically exercising she gradually built up strength and endurance. When she was given a part she read everything she had access to which would help her in the development of her character portrayal.

She over-came any tendency toward self-consciousness while before the camera. She became adept in the matter of thinking up business. The fact that she did not attain stardom, in its generally accepted sense, never deterred her. Year after year she gave to the screen and to her parts the best that was in her.

Her courageousness has been rewarded. It is my opinion that in the past two years she has contributed to the photographic drama two of its most distinguished characterizations. She is a motion picture star in the true sense of the word. Her name is Lillian Gish.

If I seem to be gazing on the darker side of a screen career I assure you that it is not because such is my habit. Quite the contrary. But it appears to me that since there seems to be such a universal impulse to gain fame through the medium of the moving picture drama that it is as well to consider some of its difficulties.

Trained actors and actresses from the spoken stage to their sorrow have found these difficulties. The established star finds sometimes that success has seemed merely to double her troubles.

The beginner will discover, therefore, that when he or she sets his or her face toward a screen career there will come moments when it will seem much easier to give up than go on. Those who give up will be those who should never have started. They will have wasted time that could have been otherwise more profitably spent.

Those who go on--well, there is always hope for such.

* * * * *

I am always interested in and can sympathize with the young girl who yearns for a career. It seems but yesterday that I was in short skirts and Miss Marjorie Rambeau was the most talented and beautiful actress that was ever permitted upon the face of the earth. After a matinee at the old Burbank theater in Los Angeles a young girl friend and I often followed Miss Rambeau discreetly and at what might be called a worshipful distance.

Then there was Mr. Richard Bennett. What a masterful, handsome man was he! My goodness! he was one to occupy one’s dreams; to make one wonder if somehow it might not be possible to grow up and become his leading lady. I am sure that the very paragon of modern-day leading men could not come up to my childhood estimate of Mr. Richard Bennett.