Lest anyone imagine that Charlie Chaplin is wearing mourning weeds as a
result of his recent and widely advertised marital tribulations, forget
it! Charlie has been busy making much over a dainty frail of seventeen or
eighteen, who came west to work in an Anita Loos picture. It is said that
Charles finds a delightful communion of spirit in the acquaintanceship
which has developed between himself and the pretty girl.
Does Chaplin care for wild women? This is a highly personal question.
Few women apparently have any appeal for him. Most of them seem too
thick-headed and lack the lustre of wit and conversational powers that
make headway where a high-strung, keen-minded man is concerned. It
has been quite noticeable that the object of Chaplin’s recent devotion
bears none of the eye, ear or leg marks generally supposed to feature
the extra smart ladies. This girl is modest appearing and, what is more,
modest acting. She doesn’t smoke, nor drink; and, so far as anyone knows,
doesn’t chew nor swear. She goes about with Charlie but indulges in none
of the frivolities.
Not to swear is regarded as remarkable among the movie dames. Most
of them could tame a Captain Kidd pirate and make a buccaneer hang
his head in a bucket of blushes. Young lady clerks or stenographers
quite frequently are told to leave the room when an irate movie girl
enters. It may be that Chaplin is experiencing a state of austerity and
aloofness from ordinary mundane affairs which a man often does experience
after his soul has somewhat been seared by the white iron of social
cruelty—whatever that means.
Anyhow Charlie is not intending to commit suicide as a result of the
parting from Mildred. The women flock after him if they get half a
chance. He realizes this fact, but seemingly attributes it to the lure
of his name and wealth. As a matter of fact, Chaplin at his best would
attract many women. He has a winsome way, as they say. Truth of the
matter is that this young favorite of film fortune is quite lonesome, not
knowing who is or who isn’t his friend, either man or woman. He is paying
the stern penalty which fame frequently exacts.
There was considerable excitement in the studios and bungalows recently
when a rumor went forth that Mary Pickford had been seen at the Orpheum
the night before with her former husband, Owen Moore, and one of Owen’s
brothers. Several persons swore that this remarkable sight was witnessed.
Truth probably is that one of the Moore boys, not Owen, was in the party
or happened to be seen talking with Mary. At last accounts Owen Moore was
in a New York hospital.
One of the naughtiest plays seen in some time came to light when
“Midsummer Madness” appeared at a Los Angeles picture house. It came just
in the midst of a campaign for picture censorship. This Midsummer Madness
play would better have been called a Midwinter Nightmare or “The Passion
Play.” William De Mille produced it.
The picture is supposed to teach a lesson to husbands who work too much
and fail to properly Romeo their wives. Cutting out what it is supposed
to teach, it was produced for the purpose of getting the money by showing
two young married people—not married to one another—deciding that they
would have a grand time in a lonely cabin.
It chanced that just as the supreme sacrifice was to be made, the lady
looked up and saw her husband’s picture on the wall. This broke up the
meeting and nothing much happened. Just how the lady chanced to open
her eyes cannot be explained, as one of the local newspapers has been
printing a series of articles to the effect that when women are being
kissed they keep their eyes tightly glued.
The newspapers unanimously proclaimed this a great play, teaching moral
lessons. The film ends “happily,” of course, with the wronged husband
satisfied that he hasn’t been cheated beyond a pardonable degree.
Many people may have wondered what became of a girl who several years ago
was probably the most noted of the film comediennes. She didn’t seem ever
to be the same following an episode between herself and one of the big
producers, a man nationally known.
The story was never published, but a penitentiary term stared this big
gun in the face had the girl died. It seems that the producer had a well
oiled case on her, but became enraged one night when, upon visiting her
home, he discovered another man had made considerable inroads, so far as
appearances went.
The best dope—and the newspaper folk knew of it—is to the effect that the
famous producer dragged the girl around by the hair and gave her such a
mauling that she was in bad physical condition for some time. The story
goes that the girl’s sister was given a substantial bonus to make herself
scarce, but remained in town, vowing that if her sister died she would
expose the whole mess.
The man whom the producer caught with the girl comedienne was married.
This would have added to the complications. Fortunately for everyone
concerned, the girl survived, though it is said her health never has been
so good. The repentant producer treated her handsomely in a financial
way, but she has never risen high in pictures since and apparently has
left the films for good.
_Whiz Bang Filosophy_
Eat, drink—and be careful.
* * * * *
A Miss is as good as her smile.
* * * * *
Home is where the mortgage is.
* * * * *
Man proposes and woman imposes.
* * * * *
Fine feathers make fine feather beds.
* * * * *
Oh, for the gland, gland days of youth!
* * * * *
There’s many a slip between the cop and the nip.
* * * * *
Many a girl has a good beginning and a week-end.
* * * * *
No skirt should be so short as to expose the knee plus ultra.
* * * * *
One of the proverbs of politics is, “Money makes the mayor go.”
* * * * *
Some men court, then marry, and then go to court again.
* * * * *
People who live in glass houses should dress in the dark.
* * * * *
There’s many a good thing lost by not asking for it—think it over.
* * * * *
Just because your sweetheart is “crummy,” don’t think he is a baker.
* * * * *
As long as truth is naked, people will continue to take liberties with
her.
* * * * *
The front door of the business man’s office says “Push.” The front door
of the city hall says “Pull.”
* * * * *
A laugh, a sigh; a smile, a tear; a giggle, a sob; a joy, a pain; a gain,
a sacrifice—that is the synthesis of Love.
* * * * *
Wives should never nag their husbands. A hubby is like an egg—if kept
continually in hot water he will become hard-boiled.
* * * * *
Don’t imagine that you can avoid a courting stunt by paying attention
to a widow. She’ll expect as much fuss and “ootsy-wootsy” slush as a
16-year-old maiden.
_Adventures of Sven_
_“Inside doings” in the motion picture camps of California,
with real characters and true incidents, will be reeled off
to Whiz Bang readers in this and subsequent issues under the
character title of “Svens Peterson’s” letters to his Minnesota
friends, with Whiz Bang Bill as the interlocutor. The Whiz
Bang has increased its regular staff of war correspondents
in Hollywood and Universal City now to four crack writers,
who will bring to the readers of this great family journal
first-hand gossip from the dressing-rooms._
Hallo! Uncle Billy:
Ay aint bane pretty gude writin’ faller, anyhow Ay yust take a chance. Ay
skol tole you Ay yust got gude yob in moving picture studyo hyar in Loose
Angels being actor faller.
One time in Minneapolis, faller tole may Ay yump yust so high lak Douglay
Bareflanks so Ay yust sall may team an’ kom out hyar. Ay hang round
studyo for ’bout sax week looking for yob. One day, faller with long
chin an’ punkin-seed mustache kom out an’ hire me. He skol take all may
clothes away for tray dollar a day to be Indian. Nother faller he paint
me with whitewash brush all over red an’ before he paint me he grease me
all over with lard so brush she slip gude You bat Ay look lak hal! Some
girls jump and squeek when Ay kom out from dressing-koop. Pretty quick
after Ay hang round for ’bout two hours in hot sun with lard frying on
may back a faller called Director git sober up an’ tal me Ay skol stand
by log house made of gunny-sack. Nother faller he soak me on head with
tommy-axe for rehersal an’ ay bane be knock out. After we skol have
rehersal ’bout fourteen times Ay git pretty mad an’ Ay yump on him’s neck
an’ bust him’s yaw an’ den Director faller he yell “CAMERA” an’ a faller
start grinding krank lak machine-gun. Nother faller turn switch-light
on me so Ay skol go blind an’ den Ay gitting mad lak Devil an’ Ay lick
Director an’ bust up camera an’ kick slats out of some extra fallers
hangin’ ’round. Log house she fall down an’ bust up switch-lights an’ set
fire on studyo. Faller run out from office an’ slip me tray dollar quick
lak lightning an’ Ay lose may clothes an’ watch an’ Ay aint give a dam.
Nother faller give me pants so Ay aint skol go to yail an’ nother faller
hire me for prize-fight picture next week to lick Bulls in Montana.
Ay skol let you know how Ay git long just so quick as Ay am Star. Ay show
them fallers how gude Swede actor put up moving picture show, Ay bat your
life!
Your old friend,