American Dreams (67 page)

Charlie returned unexpectedly from his exile in northern California.

He'd suffered in the isolation of the Essanay studio at Niles. Rather than see him unhappy and risk losing him, Essanay leased a Fairview Avenue studio that had belonged to a defunct company called Majestic. Charlie would shoot his pictures there.

On his first weekend back in town, Charlie invited Fritzi and Loy for supper at the Ship's Cafe. He introduced them to Edna Purviance, a pretty at

young woman who was his new leading lady and girlfriend. When the cafe band struck up 'Heart of My Heart,' Charlie asked Fritzi to dance.

He was so polite, she remarked on it. 'You don't sound like yourself anymore,'

she said as they stepped around the floor. 'You sound like an Oxford professor.'

'Elocution lessons. People think a Cockney accent's low-class. 1 like your Texas fellow, by the way. Quiet chap.'

'Around strangers, yes. Edna's a dear'

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Charlie mugged disappointment. 'I couldn't have you, and I had to have someone. No, I'm teasing. I fell for Edna right off.'

'You're happy now that they've moved you back to Los Angeles?'

'Yes, but you should have heard the Essanay fellows squeal about it. They're a bunch of cheapskates. They can't get away with it,' he said with a sly smile. 'I know my worth.'

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When supper was over, Loy shook Charlie's hand and Fritzi kissed him goodbye and wished him well. Charlie had a high regard for himself, but why not? He was already acknowledged to be the finest comedian in pictures, possibly in the world. Just as important, he knew how to capitalize on the value of his talent to others. That was where Fritzi fell short. She needed to give thought to correcting the situation, especially since Paper Hanger Nell showed signs of being a hit. While the picture was still being
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edited, B.B. reported orders for nearly one hundred twenty prints, and Eddie plunged into preparing Firehouse Nell.

The day that picture went before the camera on the new all-glass stage, B.B. made his usual appearance to wish everyone well. Fritzi took the opportunity to corner him. 'I'd like to discuss something with you and Al,'

she said. 'May we have lunch today?'

Tm free. I'll check ATs schedule.'

'Please tell him it's important.'

That caught his attention. 'Important, huh? Well, we got to take care of our star,' he said, patting her arm. 'Matter of fact, we had plans to treat you to lunch someday soon, so this'll work nicely. Where do you want to eat?'

Fritzi had already decided. 'The Palm Court at the Alexandria.'

'Downtown? Will Eddie let you off that long?'

'I haven't asked him, but I'm sure he will.'

B.B. cocked his head, gave her a knowing look. 'Yeah, I got a notion he'll give you whatever you want. One o'clock, Al's office.'

Eddie didn't quarrel when she asked for two hours off. Kelly's Mexican chauffeur drove Fritzi and the two men downtown to the Alexandria Hotel at Sixth and Spring. Kelly, looking natty in an ice cream suit, was unusually affable. 'Ham Hayman phoned with an invitation for a big party Saturday night. Friends of his built a fabulous Oriental house up in the hills.'

'I've seen it,' Fritzi said. You couldn't miss the spectacular Japanese style estate on its commanding hilltop above Hollywood Boulevard. B.B.

said, 'Thing is, Al's tied up and I can't go, because Sophie hates big, noisy parties. Ham wants somebody to represent the company. Who better than our Nellie?'

'I'll be glad to attend if I can take my friend Mr. Hardin.'

'Say, I heard about you and that Texas galoot,' B.B. said as the chauffeur parked in front of the hotel. 'Sure wish he'd think about making a picture.'

Million-Dollar Carpet

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'He'll never do it. He's happy where he is.'

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'Nobody's happy where he is,' Kelly said. 'He'll wake up one day.'

Fritzi didn't comment.

Entering the lobby, she said, 'Let's not go to the restaurant just yet.

Let's sit down over here.' Kelly and B.B. exchanged looks as she led them across the rich Oriental carpe.t. Tall oak chairs were scattered about the perimeter. Fritzi sat between the partners.

B.B. scratched his nose. 'Fritzi, you're pretty shrewd. I have a feeling this conversation will cost me money.'

'What are you talking about?' Kelly said.

'This.' B.B. tapped his foot. "The million dollar carpet. They call it that because a lot of big deals are closed here. I got a hunch our little gel

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wants to discuss salary.'

>

Kelly started to protest, but B.B. shushed him with a wave. A dewy per spiration

clung to Fritzi's upper lip. Her pulse was fast.

'I know how many prints of Paper Hanger Nell the exchanges distributed,'

she began. 'Exactly one hundred and twenty-four the first month.

Plus, some sixties are still earning money.' Sixties were prints in theaters for a second month. They rented for $20 or $25 instead of $30 to $50, the price range for the first thirty days.

'How do you know so much about this stuff?' Kelly asked.

'I make it a point to eat lunch with a bookkeeper once a week.'

'Which bookkeeper?' Kelly asked sharply. Liberty employed three.

'Sorry,' she replied with an angelic smile.

B.B. whipped out his silk pocket handkerchief and mopped his face. 'I get the drift. You don't think we're treating you right.'

'Not treating her right!' Kelly exclaimed. 'After we spent so much money for--?' B.B. kicked his shin with the point of his two-tone shoe.

Kelly folded his arms and glared.

'Three hundred fifty a week, how's that sound, little gel?'

Fritzi wanted to leap up, clap her hands, dance a jig. She'd planned to ask for $200. Kelly looked at B.B. as though his partner had lapsed into senility. Fritzi wondered whether B.B. had offered $350 because he expected her to demand more. With a vaguely suicidal feeling, she swallowed and said:

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"I was thinking of four hundred.'

LFourV Kelly nearly choked on the word. 'Jesus Christ, you think

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Liberty mints money?'

Sweetly Fritzi said, 'No, but it seems the Nellie pictures do.'

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'Deal!' B.B. said, slapping his knees. 'Yes, sir, and it's a bargain.' Kelly flung one hand over his eyes to show his extreme pain. 'We'd want to make it part of a new contract, though.'

'Three years,' Kelly said.

B.B. seized her hand and rubbed it frantically. 'That all right with you, little gel?'

Fritzi was overwhelmed. The busy lobby seemed to tilt and blur. The chatter of guests, the rattle of an elevator cage, the pinging of a front-desk bell, fused into a cacophony. She couldn't think of a thing to say. From nowhere Little Mary's face leaped to mind. 'Remember. Your own company:

'That

is very decent of you, B.B. And of you, Al. But if we sign a new contract, I suppose I should have my own lawyer look it over, don't you think?'

Kelly waved it aside. 'Not necessary. The company shyster will draw it up. It'll be very fair to all parties, don't you worry.' Which was exactly why she did; he was much too glib.

B.B. jumped up. 'Al, she can have her lawyer. That's enough palaver we're here to celebrate. French champagne -- the works.'

The meal in the Palm Court was sumptuous and pleasant. Fritzi had never seen Kelly so cowed; he didn't say a word about the steep prices. She drank only one small glass of champagne because of the afternoon's schedule. They left the hotel at a quarter to three. Outside, a long, sleek Locomobile touring car, rich dark blue with wire-spoke wheels, was parked at the curb with the top down, unattended.

'I don't see your car,' Fritzi said to Kelly.

'I sent it back.'

'We'll take this one,' B.B. said.

'Whose is it?' Fritzi asked.

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With a distant sourness Kelly said, 'Yours.'

'A present for our big star,' B.B. said expansively. 'You made quite a deal today, little gel. We bought the car for you last week to show our appreciation.

Now you got the car and a big bump in pay. Quite a little businesswoman, ain't she, Al?'

'Yeah, swell,' Kelly muttered.

Fritzi was lucky not to faint on the spot.

End of the Party

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76 End of the Party

Fritzi was still euphoric when she and Loy motored up North Sycamore to the Japanese palace o.n Saturday night. A line of expensive autos crawled up the hill behind them, Loziers and Cadillacs, Packards and Studebakers, with an occasional Maxwell or Briscoe, Oakland or Scripps, thrusting in like a poor relation. The lights of Hollywood and Los Angeles twinkled as a backdrop. The December air was crisp and sweet.

An attendant in a white shirt and duck trousers flagged them to a stop outside spectacular gates of wood decorated with iron studs. While the first attendant opened the passenger door for Fritzi, another ran forward to park the Locomobile. Loy snarled at him, 'Be careful of the paint.7

Fritzi wondered why he was so testy and grim. The unfamiliarity of a fancy party? She took his arm, hugged it to her side as a show of affection.

He didn't react, or even appear to notice.

Fritzi looked smart in a new hobble skirt and fancy hat with white egret plumes. Loy had polished his boots and put on a regular four-in-hand with his suit. The noise of a large crowd, two or three hundred, drifted through the open gates. She and Loy passed through into a small forecourt, then entered the main house. Gilded rafters soared above them.

They were surrounded by tall blue and white urns, Chinese lion dogs made of black iron, folding screens artfully inlaid with pearl. Every square foot of wall space displayed some form of Oriental art: Japanese tapestries, Chinese brush paintings, ferocious Balinese devil masks. Smoke from incense braziers hazed the air. Fritzi smelled whiskey, perfume, cigarettes, some with an unfamiliar grassy aroma.

Sliding wall panels of paper and bamboo opened on a huge inner court graced with small pagodas and arched foot bridges spanning ponds in which orange carp swam. In one corner a massive stone lantern dominated
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a Japanese garden with gnarled pine trees lining the banks of a miniature river made of smooth white stones. A dance orchestra played in a ballroom on the other side of the courtyard. Fritzi counted no less than five separate service bars where Orientals in white coats dispensed drinks with machine-like speed.

Ham Hayman spotted them in the crowd. I layman wore a smart belted suit of brown tweed, an ascot, and a white-and-green-striped shirt. The ex-junk dealer had burst from his rusty cocoon to become an 424

Battlefields

exotic butterfly of pictures, and he used his wardrobe to prove it.

'Some joint, huh?'

'It certainly is,' Fritzi agreed.

'Two brothers named Bernheimer built it. Took five years. They came out from New York. Got rich running a big importing business, Chink and Jap goods. That's how they found all this stuff.'

Hayman squeezed her arm. 'You like your new deal? Good. I personally okayed the terms. You want anything else, I'll take care of it, that's a promise. Just come see me. You're an important piece of property. Say, I haven't met your friend.'

Principally because he hadn't stopped talking. She introduced the men, though Loy only muttered his hello. Hayman waved to someone, excused himself, and rushed off.

'So now you're a piece of property,' Loy said, unsmiling.

'They're all crazy in this business. Don't take it seriously.'

'Want a drink?'

'Beer if they have it. Oh, there's Mary. I'd like to say hello.'

'Sure, go ahead,' he said as he left.

As she pushed and squeezed her way toward Mary Pickford, she ran into a handsome suntanned actor carrying empty glasses. She remembered him from another party. His stage name was Fairbanks.

'Hello, Doug, how are you?'

'Fine, girlie, how's with you?' He flashed a big white grin but obviously didn't recognize her. One of the new gossip magazines said Little Mary and
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the actor were carrying on behind the backs of their spouses.

Though surrounded by adoring fans, when Mary spied Fritzi, she exclaimed and threw her arms around her friend. 'Everybody, this is Fritzi Crown, my old pal from the Biograph in New York. Fritzi stars in those swell Liberty comedies about Nellie.'

After accepting a flurry of compliments, Fritzi pulled away and Mary came over to speak privately. 'How are you doing, kid?' she asked.

'Fine, I couldn't be better.' Fritzi grinned. 'In fact tonight Mr. Hayman, one of the owners, called me a valuable piece of property.'

'Oh-oh. Got a good lawyer?'

'I've thought about it. Do you think I need one?'

Mary's sweet eyes grew hard as the steelies in Fritzi's childhood marble sack. Mary laid a comradely arm over her shoulder.

'Yesterday. Want a recommendation?'

End of the Party

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Arm in arm, Hobart and Polo Werfels stood near the ballroom entrance, swaying to the music. Hobart wore a suit of black velvet accented with a flowing pink neckerchief held by a silver Navajo ring. He'd already drunk large quantities of champagne and spoke with a cheerful slur. 'What's the name of that song, love?'

'"Everybody's Doin' It Now,"' Polo said. 'The little Yid who wrote it, Berlin, he says it's about fast dancing. I say bullshit, it's about copulating.'

Hobart enviously eyed the couples gliding over the waxed floor. 'Would we dare?'

'Are you cuckoo? Definitely not. This isn't a religious camp meeting, but

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we still got careers to think about. You can bet some harpies from the

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gossip rags sneaked in tonight.'

'Shame. I fancied trying a few ballroom steps. I'd love to be Vernon Castle.1'

'Hey, dollink, I'm Vernon. You're Irene, and don't you forget it.'

Coming back to Loy after her talk with Mary, Fritzi said, 'Did you see
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