anaheim-gazette 1929-11-28

Anaheim, Calif., Nov. 28, 1929 ELEVENTH INSTALMENT What Happened Before Remember Steddon comes West to avoid revealing the result of an unfortunate love affair to her father. The Rev, Dr. Steddon, a clergyman of kind heart but narrow mind who attributes much of the evil of the world to the "movies" and constantly invigilates against them. Mem, her lover Elwood Farnaby having died in an accident, at the advice of Dr. Bretherick, gives her bad cough as an excuse to get to Arizona and from there writes home that she has met and married "Mr. Woodville," a wholly imaginary person. Later she writes again to say that her "husband" has died in the desert. She takes a job as a domestic to avoid being a burden on her parents. A fall prevents her becoming a mother. In Arizona she had met Tom Holly, a leading man in a motion picture company, and through him gets the opportunity to play a part in a desert drama. With the company is Robina Teele, a Star, friend of Holby and Leva Lennire an extra woman. After her accident, Mem becomes friendly with Mrs. Dack, a poor woman of Palm Springs Arizona and takes an interest in her little son, Terry Dack, who is gift of imminency. Inspired by a visit from Leva, Mem plans to go to Los Angeles to take a job in a film laboratory. She gets a job in a film laboratory, but loses it. She meets a Mrs. Sturgs from her hometown, who talks of the evils of the movies and says the stars are forced to sell their souls. Mem then learns her mother is coming to visit her. Mem is worried about her finances. She sees a casting director, Arthur and I hope you will take this letter as a plea for pity. My cup is full and running over, but my chief dread is that unhappiness and want may be your portion as well as mine, and that I shall fall you utterly after providing so scantily for you all your days. I can only pray that my fears are the result of loneliness and age and weariness. And now may the Lord shield you with his ever-present mercy, or at least give us the strength to understand that in all things he knoweth best. Your loving HUSBAND. As she read this letter and saw back of the lines the heavy brows of her old father, saw the bald spot she had stared at from the choir loft, saw all the sweet wrong-headedness of the veteran saint, Mem's heart hurt intolerably. Her mother sobbed: "What on earth can I write the poor darling?" Mem replied: "The answer is easy. I'm going to send him all the money I've got." Her mother cried out against robbing one of her loves to pay another. It seemed a cruel shame to take the first bake from her daughter and sell to buy bread for her husband. "You'll need it yourself. You may not have another job soon. You need new clothes and a rest." "Rest and the clothes can wait." Her mother kept a miserable silence for a long while before she could say: "Your father will never accept money that you have earned from the pictures. He'd rather die." This gave Mem only a brief pause. She answered simply: "Doctor Bretherick got me into this daddy from desperation." She sat down at doctor's letter, telling must know already of lessness. She includes for two hundred and wrote a check at Calverly lest her afraid to have it put at Calverly lest her ing to restore something that his invent. Then she set the table to secure an immature with the next to the on the screen. Ned important books; a theories—but above of nothing so much love. It was a period torpid seas, and soingly arranged to "who wanted her at o Meanywhile, through Dack was about to be numerable portraits of a grateful world. At the age of five he his business career, w or three thousand do One of Mem's picture soon after at a theatre and she sat in a vase with pride a fat w thought it a beautiful a baldheaded man smu out and pretending dash his shameful that was beautiful to Mem becomes friendly with Mrs. Dack, a poor woman of Palm Springs, Arizona, and takes an interest in her little son, Terry Dack, who is gift of minilery. Inspired by a visit from Leva, Mem plans to go to Angeles to take a job in a film lab and tory. She gets a job in a film laboratory, but loses it. She meets a Mrs. Sturgis from her home town, who talks of the evils of the movies and says she will be forced to sell their souls. Mem then learns her mother is coming to visit her. Mem is worried about her finances. She sees a casting director, Arthur Tirrey, and abruptly offers herself to him in return for a job in the movies. He tells her the talk about "paying the price" is all rot. Meanwhile the attention of Mr. Bermond, head of the company, is diverted to her and he decides to give her a chance. Soon she finds herself posing with Claymore as her director, obeying his commands in a kind of stupor. Mem's father reads a publicity story calling her "the prettiest girl in America" and writes a letter of protest to his wife and daughter. Mem's fame begins to spread, and Claymore, the director, takes an unusual interest in her. He is infatuated with Mem but tries to be aloof and professional to hide the fact from the company. Mem and Claymore become more and more interested in each other. Out riding one day, Claymore makes physical advances to her. While they are parking a hold-up man approaches and demands their money. But when she reached her home there was something waiting in ambush for her—a letter from her father. Now Go On With the Story Dear Wife, he wrote her mother—The Lord giveth and taketh away. I have lost you and my daughter and my loneliness, but I still can say "Thy will be done." I think you should know, however, Her mother kept a miserable silence for a long while before she could say: "Your father will never accept money that you have earned from the pictures. He'd rather die." This gave Mem only a brief pause. She answered simply: "Doctor Bretherick got me into this business by making up the pack of lies that brought me out here. Now he can make up a few more and save poor His heart sickened. She would be sliced to shreds." Mem and Claymore become more and more interested in each other. Out riding one day, Claymore makes physical advances to her. While they are parking a hold-up man approaches and demands their money. But when she reached her home there was something waiting in ambush for her—a letter from her father. Now Go On With the Story Dear Wife, he wrote her mother—The Lord giveth and taketh away. I have lost you and my daughter and my loneliness, but I still can say "Thy will be done." I think you should know, however, how things are here. Otherwise I should not write you. But I am afraid that the daughter that was once ours might tire of the husks of sin and wish to come home repentant. Bitterness filled my soul when I learned that she was leading a life of riotous mockery, and when I saw the picture of her smiling in wanton attire at the side of that smirking French general, I had it in my heart to curse her I wrote in my haste. I repented my hardness of heart and bowed my head in humble shame when I read your angry reply. I had lost your love and your admiration, but that was deserved punishment for the idolatry that had grown up in my heart to-you-wards; and for the mistakes I must have made in not giving our erring daughter better care. But now it has pleased the Lord to pour out the vials of his wrath on my gray hairs. The old mortgage on the church fell due long ago, but foreclosure had been postponed from time to time: We gave a benefit to pay it off, but everybody was too poor to respond, and it did not pay expenses. The manager of the motion-picture house here offered to share the profits on the showing of a picture in which, as he had the impudence to tell me, my daughter played a part. But while it would have drawn money for curiosity that would not have responded to a Christian appeal, I felt that it would be a compounding with evil, and I put Satan behind me and ordered the fellow out of the house. The church is to be closed. What I shall do next or how take care of the little children that still cling to our home, the Lord has not yet told me in answer to my prayers. I still have faith that in His good time he will provide a way or call Mls servant home. ANAHEIM GAZETTE CAMELS— As taste in smoking develops, New smokers may not be criticized mildness and surpassing fragrance here is a real superiority. It is for are made . . . for them the choice ity is maintained for the million daddy from desperation." She sat down at once and wrote the doctor a letter, telling him what he must know already of her father's helplessness. She inclosed a money order for two hundred and fifty dollars. She wrote a check at first, but she was afraid to have it put through the bank at Calverly lest her father hear of it. She instructed the doctor to make up another of his scenarios about a repentant member of the congregation wishing to restore some stolen funds—or anything that his imagination could invent. Then she set the wheels in motion to secure an immediate engagement with the next to the greatest comedian on the screen, Ned Ling, a reader of important books; a debater of art theories—but above all a man afraid of nothing so much as he was afraid of love. It was a period of dead calm and torpid seas, and so Mr. Bermond willingly arranged to "rent" her to Ling, who wanted her at once at first sight. Meanwhile, through Claymore, Terry Dack was about to be struck off in numerable portraits and showered upon a grateful world. At the age of five he would commence his business career with a salary of two or three thousand dollars a year. One of Mem's pictures was shown soon after at a theatre in Los Angeles, and she sat in a vast throng. She saw with pride a fat woman sniffle and thought it a beautiful tribute. She saw a baldheaded man sneak a handkerchief out and pretending to blow his nose, dash his shameful tears away. And that was beautiful to her with a wonderful beauty. shame as Hester Prynne's. It meant that somewhere there was a man in an invisible cloak of namelessness and facelessness who despised her and jeered at her sublimities of purity. Her highest ambitions were doomed to sneering mockery. After a day in Ling's studio, he took her to "The Beggar's Opera." She had so lost her orientation at the end of the seductive villains, that she did not faint when Ned Ling said: "I've laughed myself hungry. I haven't ordinarily any appetite. Let's go to my house and have a bite." "To your house?" "Yes. It's all right. I'm quite alone there. Just a Jap. Very secluded." She wanted to say: "You tell me not why I should go, but why I should not. And I won't." But it seemed a silly little-girlish, old-maidish, prunes-and-pramish thing to say so she said, "All right," and got into Ling's car. When he said "Home," to the driver she almost swooned, but not quite. The Jap showed no surprise at the late arrival of his master with a lady. Evidently it was the ordinary thing. Mem longed for a mask or a fire escape or a gun. She glanced about for weapons of defense. But Ned Ling said: "Some scrambled eggs and bacon—some wine. Would you rather have red or white?—or a little champagne? Let's have some champagne—yes? Yes, we'll have some champagne—native California — but good." She was hungry, but he kept one of her hands prisoner and preferred to talk. Afterward they went into the beautiful room, a strange room for a clown; more like what she imagined a millionaire's room to be, judging from what millionaires' rooms she had seen in the movies. He made her sit down on a long couch and snuggled close to her. She was curious rather than alarmed. He took up her hand again and studied it talking in the rather literary manner he sometimes assumed: "Each separate finger has its own soul, don't you think? Hands are families. Queer things, fingers. Your right hand and..." Dack was about to be struck off in innumerable portraits and showered upon a grateful world. At the age of five he would commence his business career with a salary of two or three thousand dollars a year. One of Mem's pictures was shown soon after at a theatre in Los Angeles, and she sat in a vast throng. She saw with pride a fat woman sniffle and thought it a beautiful tribute. She saw a baldheaded man sneak a handkerchief out and pretending to blow his nose, dash his shameful tears away. And that was beautiful to her with a wonderful beauty. The papers the next day in their criticisms gave her special mention. A marvelous thing to see one's name in print ad with a bouquet tied to it. She had but a little while to revel in this perfect award, for in a few days a letter came to her, forwarded from the studio. Her heart plunged with terror as she read. I seen your picture last nite and it made me sick you're awful innasent and sweet in the pictur and you look like butter wouldn't melt in your mouth but I know better for Im the guy who held you up wen you was with that other guy and took your wedin ring off you I didnt know who you was then and I dont know who he is yet but Im wise to you and all I got to say Is I've got my eye on you and you better behave or els quit playin these innasent parts you movie people make me sick youre only a gang of hippocrits so bewair. Mem felt odious to herself, with all the revolting nausea of evil revealed. There is remorse enough for a struggling soul that knows its own defeats and blackslidings, but it is nothing to the remorse that follows a published fault. This letter was more hideous than headlines in a paper. It was more dreadful than such a pilloried public talk. Afterward they went into the beautiful room, a strange room for a clown; more like what she imagined a millionaire's room to be, judging from what millionaires' rooms she had seen in the movies. He made her sit down on a long couch and snuggled close to her. She was curious rather than alarmed. He took up her hand again and studied it talking in the rather literary manner he sometimes assumed: "Each separate finger has its own soul, don't you think? Hands are families. Queer things, fingers. Your right hand and your left hand aren't the least alike ad your face is still a third person." Before Mem quite realized how solemnly ludicrous a couple of comedians could be—if anybody had been looking—except God—and perhaps that Jap valet—Ned Ling's head was on her breast and his eyes were turned up into hers—like a baby's. He was in a newborn prattling humor. That was a secret of his success. He was a baby with all a baby's privileges of impropriety, selfishness, hatefulness, adorableness. He could revert to infancy and take his audience with him, make old men and women laugh at the simple things that had tickled their childish hearts. And withal there was an amazing sophistication. He was a baby that calculated and measured, triumphed and yet wept and wanted always, the next toy. He was thinking of Mem as his next toy and she was thinking of him as her next child. His warm head and his brown eyes, like maple sugar just as it is liquescent to syrup, and with the same gold flakes glinting—they were quaintly babyish to her in spite of his old talk. "I want to love and be loved, but not to love too much. I'm afraid of love. It has hurt me too bitterly. Some of them haven't been true to me, and that hurt me horribly. And I haven't been true to some of them—and that hurt me still worse. I don' know which is ghastler—to see a woman laugh at you or cry at you. Marriage is no solution. I don't see how it can help being the end of love. Love ought to be free—like art and speech. Of course art isn't free. There's the censorship. Well marriage is like censorship. Everything you do and say and feel must be submitted to the censor. They call this a free country and have censorships and marriage!" She smiled. He was more like a prattling baby the more cynical he grew. His haunt ache and yet wanted only the body and "Could you not too much? If he had row!" he mumbles But she had said She had played name—endure penalty with escaped pub lucky lies are remained for the honesty foundations o that cheated So when he Why Is A MAN wakes up in the morning after sleep blanket, on an advertised mattress, and jamas; takes a bath in an advertised tub, shaves w Christmas It's Ready! of the Store Is Filled Merchandise for Giving! e Home! personal Use! Year!--- uctical Gifts A MAN wakes up in the morning after sleep, blanket, on an advertised mattress, and jamas; takes a bath in an advertised tub, shaves w washes with advertised soap, powders his face w dons advertised underwear, hose, shirt, collar, shoes sits down to a breakfast of advertised cereal, drink coffee; puts on an advertised hat; lights an advert office in an advertised automobile, on advertised ti in advertised institutions—then he refuses to adver grounds that advertising does not pay! If your business isn't good enough, Make it Better The Anaheim G ESTABLISHED 1870 FOR NEARLY SIXTY YEARS HAS HELPED ANAHEIM MERCHANTY why smokers graduate to CAMELS— The phrase "I've Graduated to Camels" originated with a Camel smoker. It expresses the experience of millions who through Camels have learned to know real smoking pleasure. smoking develops, it naturally leads toward better quality. It may not be critical but when they once experience the true and surpassing fragrance of the Camel blend, they realize that superiority. It is for smokers of such discernment that Camels for them the choicest tobaccos are selected . . . and this qualified for the millions who know genuine smoking pleasure. they learn the difference flock to Camels grew. His heavy head made her breast ache and yearn for a baby. But he wanted only the froth of life without the body and the dregs. "Could you love me just enough and not too much?" he pleaded. If he had said, "Marry me tomorrow!" he might have had her then. But she had not his opinion of marriage. She had played the game without the name—endured the ecstacy and the penalty without the ceremony. She had escaped public shame by a miracle of lucky lies and accidents. The hunger remained for the rewards of marriage, the honesty of a home, the granite foundations of respectable loyalty. that cheated and played for fun and not So when he pleaded with her for love for all, for a kiss, for caresses, she shook her head—mystically as he thought, but very sanely and calmly, in truth. Finally she yawned in the face of his passion and said, "I'll be going home now, please." Continued Next Week It is said that Hallowe'en was a very quiet evening in Chicago. The boys decided to throw corn instead of pine-apples. Too often the statesman who announces oratorically that he is trying to help the farmer, is only trying to help himself to the farmer's vote. Why Is It? the morning after sleeping under an advertised vertised mattress, and pulls off advertised pavertised tub, shaves with an advertised razor, p, powders his face with advertised powder; nose, shirt, collar, shoes, suit and handkerchief; advertised cereal, drinks a cup of advertised d hat; lights an advertised cigar; rides to his mobile, on advertised tires; deposits his money when he refuses to advertise his business on the es not pay! 't good enough, we can help you Make it Better Aheim Gazette ESTABLISHED 1870 AHEIM MERCHANTS TO INCREASE THEIR VOLUME OF BUSINESS