Thirty-six weeks trouping in the hinterland heading the cast of a
maudlin but financially successful play has revived the drooping spirits
of Francis X. and Beverly Bayne Bushman. So many unpleasant,
humiliating, embarrassing events have occurred in the lives of the one
time film stars’ lives, since their abrupt departure from public view
some three years ago, that even the sublime egotism of Francis X.
himself was being shaken to the very foundation. But Francis X.’s faith
in himself, in his talents as an actor, in his popularity with the
public, has been restored. As for Beverly she was never but a faint echo
of her Adonis, second hand husband, so she too is cheered by the events
of the past six months.
’Tis said that the tour of the play in which Bushman and Bayne were
starred replenished the family coffers to an extent that would permit
the redemption of the wonderful collection of valuable furniture which
last summer graced the show windows of a Broadway second hand store and
which went under the hammer to pay the alimony which Mrs. Bushman number
one insists on collecting to buy shoes for herself and the five children
who were the offspring of the one time film favorite’s first marriage.
But it is not the somewhat delayed receipt of a little jack, that has so
pleased the Bushman-Baynes and is responsible for their greatest
elation. They could never regard the refusal of motion picture producers
to further star them, as anything but unadulterated malice.
True there was a little talk about the Bushman divorce and the
subsequent marriage of Francis X. and Beverly, but they argued that
this little scandal would soon be forgotten. They acclaim now the truth
of their argument.
But there are those who openly state that Francis is not able to
differentiate between popularity and notoriety, and make the assertion
that the appearance of Bushman and Bayne on the stage attracted a mixed
crowd of the morbidly curious who wanted to see “what they looked like,”
the remains of a vast army of kitchen mechanics and shop girls some of
them grandmothers now, who used to worship at the Bushman and Bayne
shrine and a few who came to laugh at and not with the show.
A good many years ago as film history is figured, God gave Francis a lot
of good looks, a dislike for manual labor and a few brains, so he
decided to adopt the stage as a profession.
His histrionic ability did not set the world on fire but fate was good
to him and one season found him heading the cast of a Broadway
production under the title of “Going Some.” The engagement was short
lived not because the play was bad material since it has proven a
popular dramatic stock vehicle, but because it was badly acted. Bushman
was one of the worst offenders.
About this time picture producers were beginning to look about the stage
for talent. Essanay engaged Bushman to play the leads in some
extraordinarily good stories for the time and sent a company to Ithaca,
N. Y.
The feature pictures, almost the first in the field, turned out that
summer were a success not because of Bushman and Bayne but in spite of
them. In fact one of the best of the several features found Francis X.
cast in a minor role--wherein hangs a tale which may illustrate the true
worth of this actor. When it came time to start work on “The Love Lute
of Romany,” Francis got his copy of the script. He read until he found
a scene that demanded the hero should climb a tree overhanging a deep
cliff and repose amid the branches while the villain chopped away at the
trunk until the giant of the forest was about to crash into the gulley
below. Francis didn’t read any further. He burned the soles of his shoes
locating Director Wharton and began an argument that was intended to
prove that this scene was no good. However Bushman did not have the
prestige with directors that he later acquired and the scene stayed in
the script with the subsequent result that another actor with more nerve
and less good looks played the lead in the picture.
After the Essanay engagement at Ithaca came the era of multiple reel
features, with the names of the players presented on the titles, the
vogue of the fan magazines in which were printed long eulogies of film
players and an unprecedented interest in the photoplay.
Bushman and Bayne became famous almost overnight. For a while they shone
as brilliantly as any stars of the day but soon the public began to tire
of picture after picture that contained no more entertainment value than
closeups of the stars and romantic poses that sickened the souls of
those who hoped to find drama in the movies.
Then came the Bushman divorce. It was the last straw. The camel’s back
had broken. Bushman and Bayne were out in the cold, cruel world and
there they have remained until the enterprising Oliver Morrosco decided
that he would take a gamble with the play we have mentioned. The show
went out and made money. Now comes the final sequence of our story.
Encouraged by the success of the Bushman-Bayne play, Mr. Morrosco has
shipped his stars to Los Angeles and is to star them in feature
pictures. He evidently has been “sold” the idea that Bushman and Bayne
can “come back.” Bushman and Bayne have never doubted it.