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.