Big Otto - My Love for Roscoe Arbuckle

I spent a good part of yesterday afternoon watching my dvd set, "The Forgotten Films of Roscoe "Fatty" Arbuckle.  I am so grateful to the Laughsmith and Mackinaw Media for producing this amazing collection. I have owned it about eight years, and I have watched it over and over and over.  What a lovely, lovely, man he was.  Do you remember only one thing about Roscoe?  That he was somehow involved in the death of a woman?  Labor Day Weekend 1921 was when Roscoe decided to go to San Francisco -- he should have taken Buster Keaton up on the trip on his boat.  
There are quite a few things I love about Roscoe.  He was not fat--he was STRONG.  In truth, his weight was never really out of control, he was amazing.  He swam like a fish--there is a story about him swimming with dolphins and I can believe that!  There is a photo of him diving--he had wings in the water.
He loved his dog-- and his dog was brilliant.

That is Buster Keaton, Roscoe, (his friends never called him Fatty), Luke, and Al St. John his nephew and a brilliant comedian himself!
I think the best of his shorts (and this is my opinion) is "Coney Island" and any of his Keystones.  I love "Coney Island" because it shows the amusement park as it was in the teens, a warm place where people had fun.

Just a taste--go to You Tube to see the rest.  He is the BEST cross dresser of the silent era, although Buster and Charlie Chaplin are a close second.  I think that Roscoe was a person who was in love with the world until the world turned against him.

He doesn't just move in his films, he floats. Louise Brooks said dancing with Roscoe was like floating in the center  (I may miss-quote) giant donut.  He was tender with his friends, and so kind.  Look, I may only have read about him, and seen his films, but you see, his friends never forgot what a good person he was.  Buster Keaton defended him til the day he died.  "Roscoe could not have done this thing," Chaplin said the day he was told about the arrest.
A girl did die, Virginia Rappe.  She was a actress, she attended a party in Roscoe's suite at the hotel in San Francisco.  Her bladder ruptured and she died of peritonitis several days later.  At the time, people believed the papers, the news.  What they said had to be the truth?  Right?  No.  It was proven, after a fashion that Roscoe was innocent and free of all blame.  Will Hayes had him banned from film.  Women's Groups were very influential then.  VERY.  One time, Roscoe was just out, I forget if it was a movie or a premiere.  One of a crowd of these crows said, "Women, do your duty!" and they spat on him.
Children loved Roscoe's films.  Women loved him.  I love him, I love his wide smile, and his blue eyes, although I have never seen a color photo of him, I still love those lovely eyes.

When Roscoe lost his career, his friends helped him.  Buster Keaton gave him part of his income, he directed.  Paul Gierucki said he was a brilliant director, and from what I've seen of the collection of films I have he was good.  This is my favorite photo of Roscoe.

This was a happy day.  Even Buster was smiling!  The sun was warm on their heads.  A carefree day, a day that everything went right.  You ever see three happier men?

I'm In Love With Ned Sparks....
What the hell is she talking about, you may ask?  Who is Ned Sparks?  Good grief, is your head in the sand?  He's a HUNKASAURAUS REX!  And darned cute, too!

He had a voice somewhere between a leaky drainpipe and a frog with high pitch.  Low key, sarcastic, always frowning (although not in this photo!) and once in a while appearing to be the only person who really knows what is going on.  I guess I fell in love with him when I saw him in the 1934 version of "Imitation of Life".   He was in Mary Pickford's last film, "Secrets" and was wonderful, intense, a wonderful proof of what a fine actor he was.   Barney in "Goldiggers of 1933" and "42nd St".  Every sweet story needs a Ned Sparks.  As food does not taste good without salt, a good musical needs something to flavor it.  As I glanced through his credits I found he was in my favorite musical of all time, "Going Hollywood"!

Who stands out?  Ned does.  Sure Bing Crosby can sure sing a tune, and M-G-M can really stage 'em, but look at Ned!!  He's the whole scene...ok, in my opinion.  And sexy?  Who needs these so-called cute guys nowadays?  Not me.  I want Ned.  What a guy!  Who needs adorable when you got character?

Just a little to whet the appetite.  For once we have a hero that knows how to tell 'em where to go and how to get there!  He lights up the room.  And sometimes, during a program film like those Busby Berkeley films seemed to be, Ned is the one and only person (with perhaps the exception of Guy Kibbee and Bebe Daniels) who makes the film REAL and takes it out of the fluffy fantasy that a lot of the musicals of the period seem to be.  Ned has that down the nose look DOWN.  Right down and BOOM!  Drops a bomb on 'em.  Even Walt Disney knew there was a magnificent opportunity to animate the man.  From a guy that was so still, so damned smart and sassy, and probably one of the greatest characters we will always love and enjoy.  You just rock, Ned.

Quantum Leap and Giving Thanks

I don't give a hang for Thanksgiving.  That is, the eatabigmealgettotallyfullandsleepallafternoon, Thanksgiving. Most certainly I think that it's become a holiday for anticipation of not Christmas, but that Black Friday jazz that I find not only herd mentality, but a disgusting and rather in your face way for the retailers to milk every buck out of the holiday season.  And the gullible shoppers who seem to think saving a dollar ninety-five on a Barbie Dreamhouse is going to get them into Heaven.
No.  It will not.
What Thanksgiving should be about is simple. Giving Thanks.  I am thankful for my best friend Beth, my family, who are quite far away, and my cats, Chaney, Olivia, and most of all, Archer.  Oh he is so darned cute.  And no, I will not put up some barfy video of how adorable he was as a baby....
Well, maybe I will....

Now wasn't that delightful?  And I couldn't find the baby vid so I have this one which was about 2 months ago.
As most know, I've been in love with a tv show and an actor on that show for nigh on twenty years.  Quantum Leap had a terrific Thanksgiving episode, "Leap Home".  Sam, who is alone, travelling in time, leaps back to his childhood home in 1969.  The guy jumped in his own time machine to prove it worked and ended up exiled in his own lifetime for pretty much the rest of the series.  There are many things that put this show above all others but the one I must point out the most is, here is Sam Beckett, the ultimate man without a country.  There is no comfort in being alone in time, setting right what something or someone made wrong. And the holidays seem pretty important to him, as this episode illustrates.  There are several things he can set right--save his brother's life by keeping him from leaving for Vietnam, saving his fathers life by changing his unhealthy lifestyle, and keeping his little sister from marrying Chuck, an abusive drunk.  Does he succeed in doing these things?  Yes and no, that remains to be seen.  It is a story about being with a family for Thanksgiving and being grateful, in the long run, for having this second chance to be with them.  In the end, as his friend Al says how he would like to have another moment with his father and sister and Sam should be grateful that whoever is leaping him around is giving him the great gift of being with them again.

 If I get a little miserable missing my Mom or my Dad I think about how lucky I am that I live in a warm apartment, three cats and a best friend who is constantly reminding me how much she loves me, and plenty of food and a JOB.  I belong to a church that I love.
And, as Beth (my best friend) pointed out today and over and over again, if it wasn't for Sam and Al we might never have been friends.

Now I will go back to blogging about my actors and things--but be happy with what you have--Happy Thanksgiving!

Why We Should Care About Wally Reid....

He outlived a tornado that hit St. Louis in 1896.   He was a writer, a skilled director, and subtle actor.  I've seen very little of his work.  And it's sad.  He has this wonderful face, deep set eyes, a light smile.  He sort of glows from photographs taken of him.

Why am I so crazy about dead actors?  Is there something wrong with me?  Wally, in particular, shines and seems so alive.  He had a pretty modern way of acting, he was natural and had a really wonderful glow from within that comes with confidence, and a family brought him up to be proud of himself and his achievements. He had a strong marriage and a young family.  
I'm not a biographer, I just know a little about him. A lot of his pictures go VERY FAST-about cars and speed.  He was athletic and handsome.   I know he was in a picture with Gloria Swanson, "The Affairs of Anatol"--

You can see in this photo something is wrong with Wally.  He was only thirty when he died.  He did a movie called "The Valley of the Giants".  There was a train accident and he had a head injury. Instead of making sure he was taken and given the best medical care, he was stitched up, and, in time, given morphine so he could finish the film.  He finished it and the addiction which led to alcohol and other drugs, finished Wally.  (Wow!  I just had a Kenneth Anger moment...and if you don't get that reference, I sentence you to a week of staring at Hollywood Babylon.  That's punishment for anyone!)  When he was hospitalized for his addiction it was too late.   I'm sure what I'm proudest of is that he did die clean.  He refused the morphine that they would use to 'wean' him off the stuff.  He was clean, he was gonna stay clean.  And he died.

This was taken just before he had his last illness.  Why am I focusing on his death and not his film career?  Well, I'm feeling pretty blue, and had this book about Wally I read from time to time.  Maybe he was nudging me to say a few words about him, to let people know he existed and was a good person.  You see from the smile in the photo above he loved his family.  The drugs in the silent days were nefarious ... they were a stronger cut.  Mabel Normand dealt with it, Lottie and Jack Pickford.  A little went a long way and they were not expensive.  Some were even sold over the counter.   I doubt that Paramount purposely addicted Wally to the morphine.  He was their moneymaker and by golly, he had to finish that film so he could do the next, and the next.  No one learned a lesson from it except to work harder to cover up things neatly if there is an issue with drugs and a celebrity.
Dorothy, Wally's wife, made a movie about drugs, "Human Wreckage".  Like ninety percent of silent film, it is lost to the ravages of Nitrate Doesn't Wait.  Rotted and gone and probably not remembered much except that it graphically showed addiction at it's lowest.  In my heart Wally still glows very nicely, thank you.

He died about ninety years ago.  If he stepped onto a screen now he would still be stunning.  We should care about Wally Reid because he was the first actor who was brave enough to want his addiction publicized.   Because his death was a true tragedy in a time of innocence.  We like to think the silent era was this sparkling time of dancing and parties and larger than life personalities but it had it's dark side, too.  How Wally tried to beat that darkness is a story one should try to read.  E.J. Fleming wrote a terrific book about Wally and his life.  If you even think of reading this or that book or even glancing around the net for a few things of his, you have given Wally the one thing he should have--a lingering affection for a sweet, long-lost boy.

Love, Life, and Laughter

Dear Doug Fairbanks,

You wrote a book once telling all your secrets of life, to be happy, to love your friends, to keep your life clean and whole and all will be well.  Isn't that so?  Do you know I've been a fan of yours long before I had seen one of your movies?  You have this glow about you, strength, confidence,  Sure could use some confidence.  

When fall comes I think of you often.  The trees are ablaze with color, brilliant blue sky.  This really, really fresh air that you want to be a part of.  They say you made people feel that way when you entered a room and when you left all the glow went with you.  To be that supremely happy and giving must be a joy to you in Heaven now.  Maybe God has you greet the film fans when they come up so they don't worry so much about what they left.  What a wonderful ambassador you would have made.  

Douglas, did you have any idea that people would think of you after you died?  Certainly, your friends would.  

Your dearest friend was Charlie.  You two were great buddies, shared secrets and business.  You, with Mary Pickford, DW Griffith, and others formed the United Artists, which is the very first company for the actor, by the actor.  There was a lot more there than a quick grin and a witty quip.  You were clever, and protective and all the things they write about you.  

Well, I love you, Doug.  To see you fling yourself across a screen makes my heart soar.  Watch this--feel your heart soar!

I suppose I should have picked this one, but "A Modern Musketeer" is my favorite of your earlier pictures.  It shows the kind of man a girl would like, clean, full of joy of life, confidence, and a dreamer.  You'd exhaust a lesser man and did many times.  Oh we have all these so-called 'stars' now, none of which I'll mention, but none with your verve, your sparkle.   Or your good looks.  My goodness, if you suggested some of the tumbles you took (the ones your stunt man didn't do!) they'd scream for their union!  

I sure hope you don't mind me visiting you where you rest in Hollywood.  It's quiet there, and very pretty.  Just over the wall the Paramount studio still thrives, buzzing with activity and the energy that you so thrived on!  I love you very much, Douglas.  I love the thought of you, a man so full of movement and life.  You may have been the greatest egotist but who cares?  What I wouldn't have given to meet you.  Your voice would ring out--yes, he did have a voice.  He had a lovely voice.

Dear Doug as as the last drop of fall wrings its way to the Earth, I think of you today.  Mary Pickford, the wife you loved, said, "He was an arrow in full flight."  Surely that is the best way to describe you.  An arrow that went through the air and met it's target every single time.

11th Hour, 11th Day

My main focus with this is silent film. I have two favorite films that are of the era, "The 4 Horseman of the Apocalypse" and "The Big Parade" which was just released on Blue Ray.
Most people remember Rudy Valentino as this greasy, pop-eyed Latin Lover with the tent and half-clad women running like hot and cold running water throughout.
The Four Horseman was his breakthrough, at the time as big as when Tom Cruise did "Top Gun".  (Although I find Tom Cruise as utterly interesting as an unsalted soda cracker.)  He dazzles in this film, he dances the tango, he is stunning and so young.  It's brilliant and sparkling even ninety some years later.  He is a dream and so talented. He runs the gamut of young, spoiled boy, to this hardened soldier who is beaten and raw, part of the destruction of World War One, part of the soil of some dampened French field.

How could I resist?  There is so much intensity in this moment of time, it's damned hot, if you want my true opinion.  To dance with Valentino.  Yes, I dream of dancing with him.  He was so filled with emotion.  It wasn't just because he was Italian; his dark eyes, like oiled glass, the thin line of his lips and when he smiled, oh to hell with cliches.  The angels sang.  
Some may think how could I, born 44 years after his death, love him so much?  My first glimpse of him was a very fuzzy film seen on a black and white tv when I was about ten and wide open to any and all silent film.  It was Son of the Sheik and played at the wrong speed but something about this wore me down an drew me in as few things have.  It was his last film.  He ages from late twenties to his own father and it was made to help with his finances.  In reality, Rudy hated the shiek character but he needed him, too.  His last and greatest love had left him, he had a new home to pay for, debt high over his head.  The movie was a smash hit but probably not for the reasons it was made-
you see, Rudy died just after it's release.  He was only 31 years old.  And in the words of the great Kevin Brownlow, he was immortal.
Back to the war...yes, Julio was dragged out and amazing and it showed the terrible hell that WW1 was for any man or woman that fought it.

This is not the image we are the most familiar with -- he is tired and worn,  the character is doomed to die.
As for the Big Parade and John Gilbert, I will save that for another time.
Let's reflect on rememberance this veterans day, something as old as time, the lives of all the people who went to war.

There Is A Reason I Like Laurel & Hardy

On November 4th my dad would have been 99 years old.  When I was young I lived in Northern Wisconsin, a town called Rice Lake.  We got several tv stations there--back in the day when four channels and once in a while one from Duluth was a big deal.  No cable.  We got 'CCO, KSTP, WEAU (from Eau Claire) and WTCN --from The Cities.  (Minneapolis/St Paul)  Every Sunday morning at ten a.m sharp we got Laurel and Hardy and if there was one thing I never missed was that single hour or two where me and my dad had something in common.  

At first I really was fascinated about how old the 'shows' were.  "Below Zero" was a particular favorite and still is.  It's a very dark comedy short, not quite as laughable as everything else.  Two fellas, out of work, homeless, standing on a snowy street corner in the depth of winter singing, "In the Good Old Summertime".  Stan had a wheezy concertina and Ollie had this incredible voice.  It was sweet and lovely, like the song.  I grew to love him very much.  My father, when he sang, sounded like Oliver.  And he would laugh with me at every gag, at every single silly moment.  

Is there anything better than sharing Laurel and Hardy with someone for the first time?  Two gentle men, who really loved each other.  It's there on the film.  It's true. And maybe that's why it's funny in a clean, fresh way.  Because there are no untruths between these men.  Maybe Ollie did want to go play golf all the time and Stan was the true brains of the duo, but I don't buy that.  Two hearts together, as they were, brought together as if they were born at the same moment and destined to bring joy to the world with the simple purity of two as one.

This is the last photo taken of them.  They stand like troupers, smiling for the cameraman who took this film.  Here is one that is silly.  

They have been a part of my life since I was about seven years old. Dad had a friend named Henry.  They used to do pretty much everything together and when he died I don't think Dad ever recovered from that blow.  They were a terrific team Dad and Henry.  Like Laurel and Hardy, they had a friendship that was true, and one was balanced by the other.  Maybe Dad did see him and Henry in "the boys".  I like to think he did. 

Take a moment and watch "Perfect Day".  After a bad day I like to watch this short and laugh.  Such a silly family, so many laughs.  I kind of miss laughing with Dad.

This is the truth and I'm sticking to it -- October 30, 1938

This blog is not just about silent film but about things in the past that I find soothing and interesting.
Tomorrow night is the 75th anniversary of War of the Worlds, the radio broadcast that set off a panic, if we are to truly believe that, and set the world of entertainment firmly on their ear and sternly shuffled our world in to the 20th Century.  What Orson Welles and his band of merry makers did that evening was prove that channel surfing could be hazardous and used in the right way, radio was not a toy to be played with, it was an instrument, used in the correct way, could cause panic and change the way we 'trusted' the news.  People listened to the news and trusted every word.  Before radio it was the newspaper, "all the truth that's fit to print".  Trust was a big part of your daily news broadcast.  Remember, 1938 Hitler was starting his push, the world was sitting up but not startled.  The Mercury Theater players firmly set our normally calm country on their ears that night, literally.
Let me set this up for you.  It was late October and the weather was typical.  Chilly, crisp, in the Northeast, at least.  And Wisconsin where my story takes place.  Maybe there was a little snow on the ground there, stranger things have happened.  People were settling down to a nice evening listening to "Charlie McCarthy" and getting a few laughs.  The newspapers had listed the radio log, it was all there, clearly in print.  NBC - Edgar Bergen 8pm.  CBS, a radio dramatization by the Mercury Players of H.G. Wells novel, "The War of the Worlds".  People were settling down, it was a night like any other in the fall.  Cool, maybe with a cup of coffee after dinner, settling in with the paper or a magazine and listening to that nice ventriloquist on NBC....as many people have said, how could we have a number one show where a guy is talking to himself?  Well, because it was a magic time and you believed the dummy talked.  And it was funny, too.  And a Hallowe'en show!  Good for the kids, everyone.
Aside from Orson Welles and his friends, no one was really sure what was being cooked up at CBS.  Another dry Mercury Theater show, perhaps some stiff thing those people in New York thought was entertaining.  Mercury Theater was not doing well in the ratings, and yes, they had ratings then.  The ax was not far from falling, or so I've read.  Maybe something dramatic was about to happen and no one was more dramatic than Orson Welles.
He was a young man and a genius.  Fatuous, droll, brilliant, self assured (not egotistical--there is a difference)  and from the time he was born carefully held in the palm of the Gods.  Nothing could touch him.  Twenty three years old and at the Zenith of his powers.  His Mercury Theater was this miracle that only comes around once in a millenium.  Like the Beatles.  Only these voices combined into something like the same miracle but with radio waves and a whiff of ozone.  Those dark eyes drew you in and were full of just a spark of this imp.  Oh he was up to something, and if you believe the myth (and I like to think I do) no one at the network or in his cast was at all aware of what was about to happen.

Now we all know the story.    This is from a wonderful series called "Our World".  Watch it and then I'll get back to you.
Watched it?  Good.
Dad told me this story a very long time ago.  Dad was funny, some thing would evoke a memory and he would tell a drip of a story.  I had seen a tv-film about the broadcast, "The Night That Panicked America".   I wanted to know more about this thing that happened in 1938.  My dad would have been about 34 years old.
Funny, my grandparents were listening to "Charlie McCarthy".  I imagine Grandma thought it was funny, Grandpa Librande (and I really didn't know him very well) really didn't have the same sense of humor she had.  There they were, maybe having an apple or popcorn or Grandma sewing and Granpa sharpening a knife or something.  Minding their own business.  A station break perhaps, like the rest of the country, Granpa got impatient.  He probably reached over to the dial and spun it around to hear something else.  Grandma probably complained, wanted to hear the rest of the show.  Well, he hit CBS and, you see, all heck was breaking out.
They say now that Orson had it timed, he knew when to start killing people.  Yes, I'm sure he did.  Thousands of folks on the East coast and Midwest were spinning their dials to get away from the commercials, Chase and Sanborn coffee as they were pushing that night on NBC.
That very moment when Granpa hit CBS a reporter was screaming something about aliens landing from Mars and when that reporter was cut off and it went back to the studio it was enough to convince Granpa that yes, indeed, the world was coming to an end.  Grab the shotguns and get the women down in the basement!  Grandma and maybe Aunt Palma and if Aunt Irma was there, get the women folk downstairs!  And the menfolks go outside with the shotguns and wait for the invasion from the sky.
They had a radio, it was hooked up to a car or truck battery.  At least this is what I was told.  I imagine Granpa turned it up full gain and waited.  The folks in New York were saying the aliens were dropping all over the country, it was only a matter of time.  I'm sure outside they could see their breath frost as they anticipated the end of life as they knew it, waiting for the glowing globes fall from the sky.  Maybe they were the only ones to defend Northern Wisconsin.  God help us.
Something happened--the announcer clearly said, "This is a dramatization of H.G.Welles War of the Worlds..."  Dad said Granpa shot that radio dead.  Aimed that gun right into the house and shot the damned thing dead.  Then Dad laughed, that ho, ho, ho laugh like he did.  Was it true?
I like to think it happened.  It was a part of my family history and I reveled in it.  And I've told it over and over through the years.
Listen to the broadcast and keep the lights low, the TV off.  Please.  It will chill you and it will hold up.  Just dispel the reality we have now of CNN and MSNBC and all the 24 hour, 365 video.  Suspend disbelief, please.  It's amazing and you will be afraid.  Just a little.

Why My Silent Voice?
It's a funny title and it's not just about silent film, but my enthusiasm for all things classic.  I have a boss at work who has a tendency to shout when he speaks.  Sometimes I tell him to use his indoor voice and he stops and lowers the volume.
This being my silent film voice, it's pretty quiet,  not a lot of folks peering in, not yet, but it's a kind of happy sound, too, and a lot of little things that come to mind when I'm at work or watching a film, or just before I drop off to sleep and I get a little idea.
And a little about me.  That will happen as we go along.  I'm not just comfortable gushing a lot about myself.  You get to know me as you read this.
And I love Laurel and Hardy.  And want to write a little about them soon.

A Few Words From A Fan

Kevin Brownlow.  If it wasn't for this man I doubt I would have had an interest in film, let alone silent film.  When one is dragged, screaming and kicking, into a documentary viewing and finding themselves completely absorbed in a matter of moments, into the subject, and the story, that is the work of a very great person who not only is (and I consider MY teacher) a great educator and someone who is not only interested in the subject, but gifted enough to make others fascinated, too.
His books are available online and in libraries.  Every page is gold.  Even if you only have a passing interest in silent film, his, "The Parades Gone By" will pull you into a world and memories of the people Kevin had the foresight to interview the pioneers that made film in the earliest part of this century and put every word on paper.  The book is a magical time machine, it will in fact, wrap around you on a nice cold night and warm you with the wealth of memories of another time, when people just went out and said, "We'll make a movie," and did it quite wonderfully.  It was not a business, it was an expression from the very heart of artists that were tasting a new wine called film.   It did make them quite drunk, indeed, and took a small town, streets lined and scented with orange trees, into the massive city it is now.

More people owe Kevin Brownlow a debt for the priceless gift he has given us all of himself, his memories and his joy and enthusiasm for a period of our wonderful film history that I find totally magical and amazing.   I usually try to read something of his several times a year, even though I have probably memorized the words many times over.  If you get a chance and want to have a wonderful two hours or more, go to You Tube and pop his name in with the magical word 'documentary' and you will meet, sincerely, Buster Keaton, Harold Lloyd, Charlie Chaplin at his most wonderous, and so many more.  Lon Chaney, Sr., David Wark Griffith, and all the hundreds of others you will learn about. I envy anyone seeing these films for the first time.  What a gift Kevin has, for sharing a part of his heart and head.

Cats in Silent Film Part 3

Imagine a world without borders?  A world where you casually film a movie and anyone can just walk on the set and be part of the frame .... forever?  The Sennett Studios was such a place.  Just look at the background of any of their freewheeling shorts, all those lives going on, completely oblivious of the actors frolicking front and center.  Chester Conklin, Ben Turpin, Charlie Chaplin, Mable Normand, Louise Fazenda!  "Kid Auto Races", all those people watching with kindly bemusement as Charlie did his best to be part of a film about, what else, kid auto races?

Really?  They are amused!  And not one of them had seen Chaplin the screen yet.  This was actually the 2nd film he was in but none had been released.  Get that kid in the corner there, big grin!  The whole film is just about a guy bugging a newsreel cameraman who can't seem to get rid of the pest!  Is he drunk?  Stupid?  Or just a guy obsessed with being an irritant?

Even better.  the taller blond boy on the left?  He's there to see his friends race little cars, not to watch some bloody "MOVIES" cavort!  That's what folks called people that made films back then, "movies".  Some ads for places to let (rent) stated 'no pets or movies allowed'.  Agnes DeMille said in Kevin Brownlows documentary that she experienced discrimination--"I was a 'movie', you know?
And what does all this have to do with cats?  Well see the little puppy above and all those folks just having a nice Sunday watching races and being together?    It's 1914.  About a hundred years ago.  They are part of a film that will always be loved and they will never be forgotten because they are merged into the retina of silent history forever.
You see, I've read there was a cat on the Sennett Lot.  The Lot of Fun they called it.  The cat's name was Pepper.  I have one image of her or him.

Pepper was a legend.  Seems she wandered onto many sets, of many films and just became a part of film history.  Just like those people watching the races, but Pepper was remembered.  She's in every book about Sennett, even in passing, sleek and silent, sometimes a blur, or a sudden close up.  What became of Pepper?  They say Teddy, the Sennett dog, who was a HERO, a dog of brilliance and talent, chased poor Pepper away from the lot and right out of the pictures.

This is Louise Fazenda and Mack Sennett himself, with Teddy neatly sandwiched in between them.  And I plan on writing a lot about dogs later, I'm very fond of animals.
But back to Pepper because this is about cats after all.  To be a part of silent film history, whether you are a cat that is adopted by an early studio or an innocent civilian captured in time by a crank camera, you are important.  You will be part of these images now and forever.  Some people, like me, will look at that background of blurred suits and dresses and ladies in hats and little children in knickers and smile because it was a very innocent time.  In our age of terrorism and global warming it is very far away to see these faces.  They went home after this happy day, no radio or television.  A lot didn't even have electricity.  Maybe they had a big dinner or a small one, read a book by a lamp light or just sat in their warm bed and heard the sounds of voices speaking softly below them as they drowsed.  Porches, a soft step on a sidewalk, snuggle deep in the feather tick and dream about a soft world, a gentle place that was vacant of a lot of the troubles we have now.
Yes, silent film land has a lot of quiet places.  It's nice to hide there every so often.
Pepper the Cat was a rescue, isn't that great?  And part of many films, more than they can really count as sometimes she was part of the background and not credited.  But she was alive and a part of this magical history.  And she will never die because she is part of the silver and nitrate stock which is the blood of film.

Cats in Silent film part 2

This is a small excerpt from Kevin Brownlow's fine documentary, "Hollywood".  The lovely woman you see speaking with all her teeth perfectly intact, those incredible blue eyes that are beyond compare, and incredible facial structure that beats Garbos all to heck is Miss Gloria Swanson.  She was a *STAR* in the highest sense of the word.  She lived it, she was it, she became it.  Miss Swanson was totally without fear.  Maybe it was because her father was a soldier or that her mother taught her from day one to be brave, to be herself and that she was a very special person.  If you read her auto-biography you will find a wealth of lessons in it about life and how to live.   She brought up children with love and lots of self-worth.  See, to me she was more than a movie star.  She was a wonderful person, somewhat like my Grandma Wolff.  You were special from day one and don't forget it.
Watch this clip, see the lack of fear on her face as she faces the lions, LIVE lions, no backdrop, just Mr. DeMille with his gun and a trainer with a whip.  They put canvas over her back and the lion rested it's paws against it.  Slowly, they eased the canvas off until the heavy mitts rested softly against her bare back.  The rest is history.  She was a brave girl!  She got a gold mesh purse with a sapphire on it as a reward from Mr. DeMille for being a good 'fellow'.
I reflect on the films she has done, "Sunset Boulevard" being the one she is most known for.  My favorite of her silent films is "Sadie Thompson" based on the Somerset Maugham's play, "Rain".  It was forbidden in the Hollywood of 1928.  Hollywood wanted to make it, but was not allowed by the Hayes code to so much as breathe the word, Rain.  She slipped and slid, along with Raoul Walsh, around the rim of censorship and got the damned thing made.  They made sure there were tons of shots of rain, dripping, drenching, forming in puddles.  The sheer humidity in the tropics seeps into your pores watching this film.  Sadie was a very wicked person, you know,  Hot like the tropics, sultry.  A sinner.  And best yet, guess what?  She wins at the end.  Davidson does his best to convert Sadie--but you have to see the film to understand the real ending!

In most photos you see from her silent film work her eyes look 'clear'.   Blue eyes did not photograph well on the pre-panchromatic film.  Stan Laurels eyes had the same issues. They worked around this in a very simple way.  But this is not about technicalities.  It's about glorious Gloria.  Sultry, steamy, and amazing in every way.

Cats in Silent Film Part 1

The sick kitten 1903
Look for the concerned Mama cat and the gentle way the child feeds the baby kitten some lovely fish 'juice'.  Lots of dog films in the silent era, not a lot of cats.  One hundred ten years ago -- what a simply lovely thing to watch - and wow, look at the curls on the little boy at the end!  A very polite bow and ''The End".

Well here goes....
If you've read my introduction you know what I am writing about.  Silent film.  Easy on the ears, lovely to watch, a dream from a black and white vision.
I collect books, hundreds of books on silent film. I have a great collection of DVD's and I've been infatuated with Valentino, Keaton, Pickford, and Fairbanks and some of the ones we do not know in our era of *so-called* stars.  And you will know I do have an opinion of the modern media, people like Tom Cruise that mean nothing to me.  I've seen one of his films, I have never seen a show with Brad Pitt in it.  It's not often you will see me going to a film unless Turner is releasing "Singin' In The Rain" again.  I love happy films, I love European and I love drama as long as its silent or musicals!
I'm 53, have been a silent film fan since 1970.  I have been a writer for nearly as long, mostly in Star Trek and other fan-doms that I care a great deal about.  Film is my passion, silent film my true love.  I was born 27 years after the silent era ended.  My father, who was born in 1914 could never understand why I liked those 'old things' or would spend ages explaining why I could not like Charlie Chaplin because he was a 'commie'.  I had no idea what that meant.  What I did discover, long after I left home at 16, was that Chaplin was an artist.  A gift from God.  Much like my favorite actor now, Scott Bakula.  You get a person like this maybe ONCE in a generation.  In the silent era we had more than one and all amazing and I hope I can write my little essays in some way to please myself, maybe someone who lingers here.
I need to acknowledge my one true hero in the silent film era--although he was not born during it.  His name is Kevin Brownlow.  He wrote every single book that means anything to the history of silent film.  He is a magical, magical man who deservedly won an Oscar for his lifelong love of this media.  You want to get me started, well watch his wonderful, amazing documentary "Hollywood" -- it's on You Tube.  You will learn more from one hour of his series than you will learn in four years of film history studies!!!  He is a genius, he is my friend.  I like to think that.  We write each other occasionally by email.  I sent him a letter after his Oscar win, just stating how proud I was of him.  He wrote me a letter back--a real paper letter, typed and everything!  He is encouraging.  The reason that everyone in the silent era that lived to be interviewed by him gave him all they had is because he is a wonderful man who makes you feel you have known him all your life and treats you so special.  Kevin, I don't know if you will ever read this, but you have inspired me, today, to write this blog.  I love you.  I love silent films.  It's because of you.