Vintage Love (275 page)

Billy didn’t argue with her. By this time they were only a short distance from his house. When he later saw her inside he said goodnight and gave her a chaste kiss on the forehead. She went on to her own room much confused by the unusual evening. If all she had heard was true, Hollywood was worse than the most narrow-minded bigot might imagine.

Mrs. Case came with her breakfast at dawn the next morning. And by seven o’clock Murphy was driving Nita and Billy to the small studio where the two reelers were put together. In addition to the back lot Billy explained they often went out into the Hollywood streets for location backgrounds.

Murphy drove up to gates with a small guard house and an attendant inside, who let them pass inside. Within a few minutes they parked opposite an area where camera men and prop men were already at work. It was a mock street scene with a bake shop and a police station featured in the backdrops. Some actors in comedy police costumes were standing about in groups talking gravely.

Billy stood with her a moment. “Well, here it is,” he said. “Here is where the miracles come to pass!”

She laughed. “The street scene looks familiar.”

“It should. We use it over and over. Sometimes we change the shop names. A bakery becomes a clothing store or the police station becomes city hall or a fire station.”

A nervous looking man with a tanned face and his cap on backwards came towards them. In his hand was a megaphone.

He said, “Hello, Billy! Who’s the new doll?”

“This is Nita Nolan,” Billy said. “She’s going to play the baker’s daughter.” And then to her, “This is Johnny Dale, our director. He can really help you!”

“I’m happy to meet you, Mr. Dale,” she told him.

His black eyes snapped and his thin face showed disdain. “Unless you’ve got more than a nice face and figure you’ll hate me! This comedy stuff requires talent.”

“I think I can catch on,” she said. “I’ve watched a lot of movies and I’ve worked in vaudeville.”

Johnny Dale looked slightly less disgusted. “At least you have some experience. Most of the dames they bring me are straight out of Woolworth’s!”

“I’ve never done that to you,” Billy chided him.

Johnny was studying her. “You got strong legs and lots of wind?”

“I’ve done a lot of dancing,” she ventured.

“Good,” he said. “In this comedy you do a lot of running in and out of the bakery when the fellows from the police station try to steal samples of your father’s cooking. You run in and out after them, slap them in the face with pies and such.”

Billy smiled at her. “A real art form!”

“If it makes people laugh, I’m satisfied,” she said.

“That’s the idea,” the director told her. “Keep that in your mind all the time! All of us here are supposed to be funny! And you have to make faces and not worry about not looking pretty!”

“I understand,” she said.

“Okay,” the brusque little man in the turned-around cap said. “After you’re made up, come out and be ready to work. When you’re on just do what I tell you! I’ll be shouting directions all the time. If you do anything wrong just keep on until you get it right.”

The director went on his way and Billy took her to a row of makeshift bungalows. He pointed to one, “That’s the women’s make-up room. I’ll see you on the set.”

She entered the room and found a harried looking man of middle age making up a stout, character woman. There were also two younger women waiting for his talents.

The little bald man frowned at her and groaned, “Another one!”

She sat and smiled politely though she felt very discouraged. Last night she’d been disillusioned at a Hollywood party, and now she was seeing the drab, factory-like operation the making of pictures was. She felt a great longing to be back with Sherman Kress, Madame Irma, Percy the seal and the others.

What would Marty have made of it all? If Billy were right, and he probably was, Marty would have conquered the town with his Irish charm and talent. Then no doubt he would have joined the suicide brigade to drink himself to death. Marty had wanted her to share his Hollywood chance. Now she was facing the big opportunity alone. For his sake she couldn’t give up easily.

The make-up man roused her from her reverie with a curt, “All right, you’re next!”

She went and sat on the stool which the others had vacated. He glared at her and said, “What role are you playing?”

“The baker’s daughter.”

He looked impressed. “That’s the lead, next to Billy.” He went about completing her make-up. When he’d finished and she saw herself in the mirror she thought she looked like a witch, daubed with pasty yellow. But he seemed satisfied. He sent her on to another bungalow marked “Wardrobe.”

A woman with a foreign accent was in charge there. She asked Nita her role and when she learned it was the baker’s daughter, the wardrobe mistress gave Nita a dark brown dress. She warned her, “I haff only three of these. If you get them all dirty you’ll haff to vait until they’re vashed and dried. So be careful!”

“I’ll do my best,” Nita said wanly, taking the dresses with her into the tiny cubicle of a dressing room. She removed her own dress and put on the brown one. Then she went out to sit on a canvas chair behind the cameras.

The director was already at work with Billy and the policeman. Billy was having an argument with a fat policeman and when the fat one stuck his finger in his face, Billy bit it. This sent the fat man into a dancing rage as Billy ran off. The cameraman was busy filming the scene and the lighting man was adjusting his reflectors to get the best effect.

The director had Billy and the fat man repeat the scene two or three times. Then he ran another scene where the fat policeman and a thin one conferred in front of the bakery shop. It was clearly their plan to steal some dainties from it. The thin man stood guard while the fat policeman furtively made his way into the bakery.

There was much shouting by the director and changing of pace before he was satisfied with the results. Then he shouted into the megaphone, “The baker’s daughter!”

Nita came forward and stood by him. “Ready!”

The director scowled at her. “Your eye make-up is too heavy, but we can’t wait now. It will have to do. Now I’ll tell you what your action is!”

And he did. He took her behind the store front and explained that when the fat policeman came in and stole two pies she was to follow him out shouting. He was to stop and argue with her. She was to continue accusing him. The fat man would give the pies to his doleful thin accomplice to hold and then turn to shake her like a puppy. At that moment Billy would appear, see her plight, and taking the pies from the thin policeman, slap one of them into his face and then the other one into the fat policeman’s face. After which he would take Nita by the hand and rush her to safety inside the shop.

“Okay,” The director shouted. “Let’s do it!” He came forward and gave her further instructions about her timing and facial expressions. She listened carefully and tried to follow his instructions. Her first dress was stained with pie and she had to rush to the dressing room and don another. Then the filming resumed.

It seemed an age until the noon break. Nita had been told film acting was hard work. Now she really knew it. She joined Billy Bowers with a wry smile.

“What a morning!” she said.

“A good morning,” he told her. “You were great!”

“You honestly mean that?”

“I do,” he said. “And to prove it I’ll reward you. Go change and I’ll take you to lunch at the Master Films Commissary. It’s just across the street.”

“Have we time?”

“Plenty,” he said. “And the alternative is eating sandwiches her from a truck which comes in to provide food and drink for the company. We aren’t rich enough to afford to dine in style.”

She smiled. “I won’t be long!”

He called after her, “Don’t take off your make-up. Just change your dress.”

So a few minutes later she found herself strolling across the street with Billy. She felt odd in her heavy make-up but she soon discovered all the other players took their lunch breaks with make-up on. The guard on duty at the Master Films gate recognized Billy and greeted him warmly. Nita walked into the wondrous world of major film making and saw that this was a truly busy lot.

They passed a set of ancient England with castle, moat and green fields surrounding it, then moved on to where a unit was still working. She was entranced to hear a trio of musicians playing romantic background music for the scene. It was an outdoor café and a tall, handsome man and a blonde girl sat across from each other at a sidewalk table conversing in an intimate fashion.

Billy told her, “That’s Rod La Roque and Vilma Banky. They’re very big at the box office these days.”

She was awed. “I never expected to see them in person!”

“You’ll see a lot of people here,” he said, amused.

They walked on to the commissary and found most of the tables occupied. Billy led her to the rear of the room and she recognized Dustin Farnum sitting talking to an elderly man as went by. She didn’t dare look around. It seemed there were familiar faces from the screen everywhere.

“I feel I don’t belong,” she said as she sat with Billy at the empty table he’d found.

“You will,” he promised her. “After you finish the film we’re working on today people will be seeing you on the screen. You’ll be one of us.”

She laughed. “It will be a long time before people point me out on the street.”

“It can happen quickly,” Billy said. “Look at Mabel Normand. She became famous almost overnight.”

The food was served buffet style from a long counter. Nita was too shy to want to stand in line, so she told Billy what she would like and he went off to bring back lunch for her and for himself.

She sat transfixed by the chatter of the glamorous group around her. One woman dominated a nearby table with her exotic looks, pale white skin and coal black hair drawn straight back from her forehead. She was surrounded by two men and two other women, none of whom were as stunning as she.

“Star gazing?” The question was put to her in a pleasant male voice.

She glanced up in surprise to see a familiar face smiling down at her. It was Dr. Phillip Watters. He looked even more handsome in a brown jacket and fawn slacks. Belatedly she remembered that he had told her he was going to become physician to one of the studios.

She said, “Hello! So this is where you’ve ended up!”

His brown eyes twinkled. “Let’s say it is where I’m working at the moment.”

“Whatever you like,” she said. “It’s good to see you again.”

“And to see you,” the young doctor said. “Judging by the fact you’re in make-up I would suppose you are working here.”

“I am working,” she told him. “But across the street at Hammons Pictures. Billy Bowers brought me here as his guest.”

“Of course, Billy Bowers,” the doctor said. “He came to see you often when you were in hospital.”

“And now I’m working in his new two-reeler,” she said.

“Good,” Phillip Watters replied. “I wish you luck.”

“How do you like it here?”

He shrugged. “Fair. I’ll stay a while. It’s been a quiet day so far. An extra fainted on one of the sets. I sent her home with a fever and told her not to report for work until she had recovered. And Barbara La Marr had one of her weak spells but she came out of it with a little medication.”

“Different from the hospital,” she said.

“Very much so,” he agreed. “But it pays well and I’m getting a different kind of experience.”

“This is a different world!”

He nodded. “You’re right. I hope we meet soon again.”

“I hope so,” she said, and he left her.

When Billy came back with their plates of food she told him about seeing the young doctor again. She said, “He has an office right here on the lot.”

The comedian nodded as he attacked his salad with vigor. “Most of the companies have doctors on the lots and always a nurse or two. It pays. There are many accidents and with a lot of people around, there is bound to be some illness.”

They finished lunch and went back across the street to work again. New action was introduced and Nita did much running around and tripping of the policemen. Sometimes they would halt for a little while new ideas were evolved. She was amazed to discover that much of the story was made up on the set as they went along.

This marked the beginning of a long period in which Nita worked almost constantly on the Hammons lot. She made a dozen or more of the two-reel comedies in which Billy starred. Soon she was accepted as a veteran of the troupe. She quickly caught on to the tricks of the trade how to work before the cameras.

Nita went on living at Billy Bowers’ chiefly because she didn’t wish to hurt the comedian’s feelings, but she would have preferred more freedom than the monastic life at his mansion offered. Murphy continued to be polite but distant, and there were many days and nights when Billy vanished into his own quarters on what she now knew to be extended drinking bouts. When he emerged he was invariably shaky and haggard.

It hurt her to see him slowly destroying himself because she felt he had great talent. But it was precisely his feeling that his talents were not being properly recognized that seemed to make him drink all the more. It angered him that Chaplin, Lloyd and Keaton were all making successful feature films while the best he could manage were the two-reelers.

Nita also discovered that he was a creature of moods. At times he would be in the depths of depression and then he would swing again to an excitement which was more than normal. It was on one of his high days that he happily revealed to her it was his thirty-fifth birthday.

“I’ll have a party for you,” she exclaimed. “Invite everyone you’d like to have!”

The tall, shy man gazed at her fondly. “I’d like to celebrate with just one person. You!”

Surprised, she quickly recovered and said, “Very well! Just the two of us! Where will we go? Musso & Frank’s? The Victor Hugo? The Biltmore? You name it.”

“Why not a quiet dinner here at home?”

Again she was surprised. But she said, “If that is what you wish.”