A poster for “The Devil’s Passkey.”

Riding high on the wave of great reviews and huge box office for “Blind Husbands,” his first film as director, artistic Austrian Erich von Stroheim expanded his horizons with his second film, “The Devil’s Passkey.” Rushed into production after Universal Studios realized the box office potential for “Blind Husbands,” ”The Devil’s Passkey” allowed the young director more freedom to experiment. Would freedom be a blessing or curse for the overly confident director?

“Blind Husbands” turned out well for both the director and studio. von Stroheim revealed a master’s eye for detail in story, capturing character in a line or side glance. He kept both himself and his actors restrained in telling a mature tale, one hinting at depravity without crossing the line. Most importantly, he stayed reasonably within budget; Arthur Lennig in “Stroheim” reveals he spent $125,000, slightly more than the average Universal budget, on his film. Costs stayed relatively within budget by filming the Alpine scenes at Big Bear and Idlywild, and focusing more on simple sets.

Mary Mallory’s “Hollywoodland: Tales Lost and Found” is available for the Kindle.

Posters for “The Devil’s Passkey.”

Director von Stroheim envisioned greater things for his follow up motion picture, selecting a story set in the rich milieu of continental Paris. Based on Baroness de Meyer’s unpublished story, “Clothes and Treachery” looked at the extravagant American, Mrs. Goodwright, willing to do almost anything to cover her financial embarrassment. The plot’s focus on a young, self-absorbed woman living beyond her means and trying to hide it from her husband echoed somewhat the stories of “The Cheat” and “Blind Wives.” von Stroheim threw his own curve ball into the story by making her husband a playwright, who discovers the story without knowing the characters and adapts it into a successful play. Both must suffer and absorb the embarrassment of profiting off of a story revealing one’s moral shortcomings.

Actor Leo White suggested the story to the director, per the January 28, 1920 Bridgeport Times, with von Stroheim spending a few months adapting it for his more louche character details. During production the title constantly evolved. Starting production under the moniker “Success,” the film underwent a series of name changes: “Charge Account,” “the Woman in the Plot,” and finally the more alluring and suspenseful, “The Devil’s Passkey.”

Universal played up what they considered von Stroheim’s perfect credentials for directing such an upscale story set in Paris, a background he had constructed out of thin air. They claimed in Moving Picture Weekly that the director spent time as a young man in the City of Lights, going on to state: “Continental Europe is his birthplace. As an Austrian count he mingled in the most exclusive circles in every capital from Petrograd to London, knowing the gay and fashionable life of every city.”

Another posted for “The Devil’s Passkey.”

The movie’s characters also appeared more decadent and snobbish than those of von Stroheim’s first film, with an added sheen of understated sophistication. Mrs. Goodwright, portrayed by fledgling actress Una Trevalyn, considers selling herself to another man in order to pay off her debts. Relatively inexperienced Clyde Fillmore filled the shoes of blase, breezy American playboy, Rex Strong, who entertains himself in the more lurid pleasures of Paris, playing a role seemingly based on von Stroheim’s typical onscreen playboy personality. Maude George brings a shrewd calculation to her plotting Madame Malot, and Mae Busch brings a flirtatious verve to the vixenish dancer, La Belle Odera. Sam de Grasse brings a respectable gravitas to playwright husband Goodwright.

Luscious, elaborate sets devised by the fastidious von Stroheim mixed with actual stock footage of Paris tricked audiences into believing what they were seeing was actually the cosmopolitan city. Adding a nice, light touch of sophistication, the director played on more adult and humorous portrayals of sexual and romantic relationships, just skirting a tragic ending.

Wisconsin State Journal, Nov. 10, 1920.

The ultimate detail setting the film apart from others was von Stroheim’s focus on story, reproducing it as authentically and faithfully as possible, and making the story plausible through the character’s actions and inner beliefs. As he told the New York Tribune on August 18, 1920, he only directed stories he felt enthusiasm for, and developed endings logical to the story. “But unless I am moved by a story and feel its plausibility myself, I refuse to direct it. I am not trying to give the public what it thinks it wants, but instead seek to give it what I like.”

A few minor points during production should have given the studio notice that von Stroheim refused to play by schedules or rules, foreshadowing things to come. The production required almost two months of filming and Motion Picture Weekly reported that it ended up with over 100,000 feet of film to cut into a regular feature length film of 7,000 feet. The Richmond Times Dispatch stated on February 28 that the director had spent weeks cutting down the film, with Frank Lawrence and his editing crew expected to take two further weeks to get the film to the proper length.

“The Devil’s Passkey” in “Moving Picture Weekly.”

Most probably the studio stepped in to get the film to a more acceptable length for exhibitors, following a April 30, 1920 Variety story which stated that von Stroheim was a one picture man and went on to say, “The thing skidded for the shelf and the director hit the trail east. The final settlement was an agreement on von Stroheim’s part to recut and retitle his picture. This he has done, and it is now announced for release, while the press is anxiously waiting to see if this director is a flash in the pan or the real thing.”

The film’s scrumptious look led Universal to devise a huge publicity campaign pulling out all the stops to promote the film. Twenty three newspaper advertisements were created to appeal to virtually every audience. Some of these ads featured elaborate illustrations, many of which mimicked the elegant and eye-catching five-color lithographic posters (1-sheet, 3-sheets, and 24-sheet). Two two-color teaser posters displaying keys were also produced by the publicity department to help sell the movie. They concocted elaborate lobby displays as well, including one replicating the luxurious tile tub in which Mae Busch soaks.

Many of the film’s ads praised von Stroheim and his more mature style of filmmaking, with one proclaiming it “A Grown Up Picture for Grownups,” and others commenting on the lavish and “pretentious” nature of his film. All played up the adult nature of the film and the moral choices it examined.

Universal began playing up the film’s unique aspects, including its artistic photography, lensed by cameraman Ben Reynolds, with assistance from second cameraman William Daniels. In Exhibitor’s Herald, studio chief Carl Laemmle claimed that von Stroheim created a new process of photography on the film called pastelography, a technique similar to soft focus giving film the appearance of painting.

In its own journal, Motion Picture Weekly, Universal claimed that the film’s use of color through lap-dissolve served as “dramatis personae” in a film for the first time. “The initial experiment in “The Devil’s Passkey” finds the night-long vigil of a repentant woman in the room with her disillusioned and despairing husband. During the cold morning, everything is dark blue. Through the French windows, the dawn is seen to break. A glow grows against the sky, and gradually the sun rises, flooding the room with the hopeful pink of a new day. It is symbolic of what has passed in the minds of the two in that room.”

After a sneak preview, the Studio decided to open the film in the late summer, in order not to compete with “Blind Husbands,” while von Stroheim continued filming his next picture, “Foolish Wives.” They arranged a grand simultaneous opening for “The Devil’s Passkey” in both New York and Chicago for August 8, 1920, with New York’s Capitol Theatre and Chicago’s La Salle Theatre throwing out all the stops.

“The Devil’s Passkey” in “Moving Picture Weekly.”

Almost universal praise greeted the film upon release, with many critics calling “The Devil’s Passkey” even more artistic than “Blind Husbands.” Many remarked on its opulent, sumptuous sets, with one even calling it “voluptuous luxury.” Moving Picture World called it a “sophisticated drama.”

Audiences flocked to see the film, whether in major metropolitan areas or more sedate small towns, setting box office records. Many theaters remarked on their standing room only crowds or extended runs. Perhaps the film’s more moral tone and happy ending helped lure people to screens. This picture was just a little titillating fun, unlike the more outré von Stroheim films to come.

Some played up the adult theme, with an ad in the Wisconsin State Journal November 20, 1920 stating, “This picture will not interest the children,” along with the line, “A sensational photo drama of Woman’s greatest temptation – created by a man who knows – and who knows you know.” The Chattanooga News on October 27, 1920 ran an ad stating, “That’s the finesses of the master director. He knows women – all their luxurious beauty and he thrills you with his knowledge of life.” Motion Picture Classic contained a Universal ad describing his appeal to women as “It’s the ay of the he-vampire.”

“The Devil’s Passkey” in “Motion Picture News.”

Not all loved the film. Los Angeles Times critic Antony Anderson remarked that he had considered von Stroheim an artist with a vital dramatic instinct after seeing “Blind Husbands,” but found this film slightly out of touch and filled with “accidental” touches of art. He called it “miasmatic, it reels with crude and sordid cynicism. This may be Paris, but is a Paris evolved from some hectic Greenwich Village brain, a vision of “modern” life that must have been borrowed from the cheapest of the yellow-backed novels manufactured by the French.” Whatever his views, Los Angeles crowds loved it, leading to a four week run at the Superba Theatre.

Some small theaters saw little box office out of the film, writing in to Exhibitors Herald offering their takes. In the July 16, 1921 issue, R. C. Buxton of the Strand Theatre in Ransom, Kansas commented, “Good picture, but not for small towns, as too deep for most of them. Goes over their heads.” Mrs. N. H. Pfeiffer, manager of the Itasca Theatre in Alice, Texas wrote, “Old hash not browned enough to make it palatable.”

On August 21, 1920, Exhibitors Herald reported that after the success of “Blind Husbands” and the high praise for “The Devil’s Passkey,” Universal had decided to give Erich von Stroheim “carte blanche in his work, regardless of expense.” Little did the studio realize it was unleashing the feverish obsessions and wild ambitions of a hugely talented though undisciplined man, setting up a pattern that would eventually doom the filmmaker to failure.

Unfortunately modern audiences cannot discern for themselves the artistic nature or vision of von Stroheim for “The Devil’s Passkey, “ as it is one of two films he directed that are considered lost. Perhaps one day both it and “The Honeymoon” will be discovered, offering cineastes an opportunity to see the full evolution and growth of an exceptional though unrestrained artist.

A postcard of Roy Harlow’s Pump Room, courtesy of Mary Mallory.

Ventura Boulevard has been the dining and entertainment mecca of Studio City residents back to 1927, when the area was still part of North Hollywood. Originally a main highway connecting Santa Barbara with Hollywood and Los Angeles, Ventura Boulevard evolved into a major business corridor for the area as well, thanks to the highway and the construction of the Mack Sennett Studios.

More celebrity driven or upscale restaurants lined the street, offering a more high tone evening for those with some money to spend. Many proffered free entertainment with the purchase of dinner, often with top drawer talent. Most featured hearty fare in elegant surroundings, appealing to the better classes.

Mary Mallory’s “Hollywoodland: Tales Lost and Found” is available for the Kindle.

The Pump Room in the Valley News, Nov. 28, 1949.

Roy Harlow’s Pump Room catered to those striving towards higher rungs of the ladder, while surviving on more pedestrian incomes. First opened in 1946 at 14445 Ventura Blvd. in Sherman Oaks, Harlow’s Pump Room featured a wide range of cocktails to complement steaks and chops while offering free entertainment to dinner patrons.

In the late 1930s, Harlow sold used cars and lived at 4109 Rhodes Avenue in North Hollywood. He hoped to form something a little more classy and relaxed than trying to get customers to purchase trade-ins and well used automobiles. His Pump Room was modeled after the 200-year-old Pump Room in Bath, England, a high end salon that was part of the coastal town’s spa. After two years, Harlow moved the restaurant into Studio City, locating it at 13003 Ventura Blvd., and added an organ to provide musical accompaniment to dinner.

His eatery featured hearty dinner specials for $1, which included appetizer, soup or salad, vegetable, eat, dessert, and drink, a deal. His prices were affordable for middle class families or couples looking for a night out.

Located near Coldwater Canyon Boulevard, his establishment found itself vulnerable to robbery. On April 25, 1952, the nightclub was held up by four gunmen who took $400, and shot a patron. Frank Chapman the bartender reported in the April 28, 1952 Van Nuys News that many thought it was a joke, as the men had come in earlier and ordered drinks, asking organist Randy Sauls to play “Blue Skies” and then leaving. They returned ten minutes later carrying pistols, shooting motion picture stills photographer Ed Cronenweth, who was sitting at the bar. The gunmen shot him through the back, with the bullet ending up in his abdomen. Guests and staff were rounded up, forced to step over the wounded Cronenweth, and then locked in a restroom after turning over money and jewelry.

A month later, all suspects and an additional woman accomplice were arrested. The May 24, 1952 Los Angeles Times reported on the melee regarding arresting the suspects. Two men and a woman were tracked down to Santa Barbara and surrendered, while two men in Reno exchanged gunfire with police before being arrested. Three men ended up admitting they took part in San Fernando Valley and Sunset Strip robberies, as well as shooting Cronenweth at the Pump Room. The group was implicated in twenty robberies, including of such restaurants and clubs as the Dresden Room and Skandia.

On October 16, 1953, gunmen struck again, armed with sawed off shotguns and snub nosed pistols, per the October 17, 1953 Los Angeles Times. The gang escaped with $2,000 in cash and jewelry, after emptying the safe and cash register and lining up patrons against the wall and forcing them to hand over jewelry, money, and other valuables.

As with the first robbery, the group was apprehended by police, and on January 21, 1954, five pled guilty, including an accomplice, to multiple robberies netting approximately $20,000. Four of the men had previously served time in prison, while one, S. De Witt Crenshaw, possessed a clean record. Thirty victims were prepared to testify in court. On February 17, four men were sentenced to prison after R. W. Sheppard withdrew his plea, and his case was continued.

These robberies were an aberration, the vast majority of the time the Pump Room welcomed middle class guests looking for a good family-style meal, an easy drink in the cocktail lounge, and a relaxing evening out. The eatery also welcomed groups to its private room for meetings and special events, like the League of Women Voters, the Boy Scouts, Toastmasters, the American Legion, the Rotary Club, the Red Cross, Kappa Kappa Gamma, B’nai B’rith, and the San Fernando Valley Republican Woman’s Club. Charity and social groups often met here.

By 1956, Roy Harlow began focusing his attention to his new Ram’s Horn restaurant in Encino, though he still owned the Pump Room. In 1958, Don Paul, Bob Kelley, and Bob Waterfield also served as hosts and owners along with Harlow. He sold off his interest that year, allowing the new proprietors to maintain the use of the name the Pump Room. They switched over to piano instead of organ for entertainment, but continued in the same vein as before.

On July 31,1961, the club suffered another robbery when a gun man approached the manager in the parking lot at 4:15 am, forcing him to open the safe, before escaping with $722.

The Pump Room continued serving Studio City and San Fernando Valley residents the same quality food and service through 1978 when it closed. Marrakesh Restaurant opened in its place in 1979, removing the pump handle and spout from the pump atop the sign, but leaving the exterior pretty much intact.

While the Pump Room is gone, its memory lingers with many who visited it over the years. The nightclub is one of many to serve Studio City restaurants, which, while gone, still see new eateries and clubs fill the same spots, continuing the tradition of serving San Fernando Valley patrons.

6208 Franklin Ave., via Google Street View.

Hollywood’s population exploded during the early 1920s as motion picture production soared, thanks to studios moving their production facilities westward from New Jersey. Land values soared, and businesses and developers rushed to keep up with the growing need for residential and commercial space. Many of Hollywood’s most elegant office towers and theaters were erected during this period, as were some of its most striking bungalow courts and lavish apartment buildings.

Many of these upscale structures emphasized their luxury appeal with names like the Castle Argyle, Trianon, the Fontenoy, the Chateau Elysee, and La Belle Tour, with sparkling French Normandy or Classical-style architecture to match their catchy names. Their sophisticated look and style drew celebrities as well as high society or ambitious clientele.

Mary Mallory’s “Hollywoodland: Tales Lost and Found” is available for the Kindle.

Located at 6200 Franklin Avenue, La Belle Tour was the last of these grand apartments erected, opening not long before the stock market crash in 1929. Surviving financial upheavals and changing times, La Belle Tour has survived thanks to its prominent look and location.

The March 10, 1929, Los Angeles Times reported that Henry Hersh and Edward Kohn would erect an eight-story, Class A apartment building featuring 52 units with three, four, or five rooms each costing $300,000. Architects Cramer and Wise would design a French Renaissance Chateauesque-style building financed by Finance Brokerage Company, with J.C. Bannister listed as contractor.

Though the March 24 Times reported that Bannister had requested a permit to erect an eight-story, 145 room apartment building at the location, the actual permit for the building at what is listed at 6208 Franklin Ave. is dated April 20, 1929, with the May 5 Times now stating that $250,000 would be spent in building the structure.

Per the April 20 city permit, the eight-story, reinforced concrete, Class A building would employ 210 tons of reinforced steel and 19,200 sac (sic) cement for constructing the building, employing concrete for exterior foundation, walls, and floors, n.o. plaster board on steel studs for interior walls, and concrete, compo, and asbestos shingles for the roofing material. Two L-shaped wings, one 53 feet by 120 feet, and one 53 feet by 77 feet would extend from a central tower, which at its highest point would reach 110 feet, six inches. Sprinklers were required for the building. The city of Los Angeles issued the final certificate of occupancy February 19, 1930, approving a subterranean garage as well. The building opened just months after the stock market crash of 1929 and the deep dive of American economic interests. Ads appeared almost immediately in the Los Angeles Times noting rates and availability, and would run almost regularly through 1936.

The December 15, 1929, Los Angeles Times announced that the Stillwell Hotel Company had acquired a twenty-year lease costing $700,000 for the building, which they intended to operate as a deluxe apartment house. The owner and his wife purchased fine furnishings from Barker Brothers to complete the units, which were rented furnished to tenants, famous or non-famous alike. Whatever their social rank, La Belle Tour would offer sleek, gorgeous surroundings and atmosphere, appropriate to a gracious style of living.

The first classified ad on January 31, 1930, states, “Now opening, Class A building, ‘Each apartment is a beautiful home,’ doubles or four room suites with best accommodations, all extras included, complete service maintained.”

Not much is known of celebrity residents, but there were a few. Young writer Cornell Woolrich and his young bride Gloria Blackton, daughter of film pioneer J. Stuart Blackton, lived in the building by December 1930, with a December 9 Los Angeles Times story reporting the twenty-four-year old writer and twenty-year-old bride had married December 5 after a courtship of less than a year. They were still waiting for her parents’ blessing. The item noted they had met a mere month after Woolrich moved to Hollywood for his new job as staff writer at Paramount, after penning short stories and novels.

Opera star Tito Schipa maintained an apartment in the building as well as two residences, one in Beverly Hills and one on Los Feliz Boulevard, in the early 1930s, and actress Noel Francis lived in the building in 1932 when arrested for speeding. Perhaps actor Colin Clive resided in the building as well, as a studio photograph shows him posing on the roof with the Hollywoodland Sign visible to his north. Actress Virginia Mayo lived in the building when she announced her engagement to actor Michael O’Shea, per the July 7, 1947, Los Angeles Times.

La Belle Tour is sold, July 25, 1937, in The Times.

Some staff members listed themselves in the Los Angeles City Directory in the 1930s. Mrs. Bee Dragani served as manager in 1934, before going on to serve as a manager at other Los Angeles-area apartment buildings and as an officer in an apartment managers’ organization. In 1936, Cecil Bline served as houseman, and in 1938, Cooze DeCamp served as assistant manager.

On July 25, 1937, the Times reported that Albert Louis and Marie Louise Wilcox, South American investors, purchased the eight-story property for $300,000, including complete furnishings, from Michael Tauber, which enjoyed a central roof garden available to all tenants and private roof gardens for penthouse apartments. By November 26, 1939, however, a story in the Los Angeles Times stated that Justus P. Seeburg of Chicago paid $250,000 to G.E. Kinsey for the building, meaning that perhaps Kinsey had purchased the building in a private sale from the Wilcoxes earlier. Some time during 1942, La Belle Tour’s name was changed to Hollywood Tower, as the building is listed under both names in the 1942 city directory.

The huge building was expensive to maintain, and perhaps was prohibitive to owners. On June 7, 1953, the Los Angeles Times announced that Joshua Pintel had sold the 52-unit Hollywood Tower and other buildings to Sam Gutlin for $642,000. Gutlin ran regular ads for the building throughout the 1950s.

By 1981, the Hollywood Tower had become mostly an apartment house for seniors, which suited owner Deseret Properties and Dennis Ballard just fine. Ballard told the May 17, 1981, Los Angeles Times that seniors paid their bills regularly and on time and caused no problems. He began renting primarily to seniors earlier in the year, “offering them reduced rents, no move-in fees or security deposits and all utilities paid;” he was also thinking of starting complimentary Saturday continental breakfasts and once-a-week limousine service to go shopping or see a movie. The company had spent $50,000 to refurbish the building.

The Hollywood Tower, June 7, 1953, in The Times.

At that time, bachelor units contained hot plates and singles featured kitchens. The building featured one- or two-bedroom units as well, with rents ranging from $185 to $400.

By the 1980s, the building, like many other once luxurious apartment buildings in the area, was becoming run down and threatened. In early 1988, it was named to the National Register of Historic Places.

The Hollywood Tower’s imposing look supposedly inspired Imagineers at the Walt Disney Company in designing the look for the Tower of Terror attraction at Disney’s California Adventure in Anaheim.

In 2007, the Hollywood Tower was sold for $34.5 million to Alliance Residential, which eventually built additional units across Vista del Mar Street.

While perhaps not as glamorous as its 1930s heyday, the imposing Hollywood Tower still projects power and authority today.

Harry Houdini in “The Grim Game.”

Update: TCM is airing “The Grim Game” on Oct. 18. Set your DVRs!

Here is Mary Mallory’s post on the film.

Long considered mostly lost, Harry Houdini’s second film, “The Grim Game,” re-premieres in its entirety Sunday, March 29, 2015, at the TCM Classic Film Festival, 96 years after it was released. A suspense thriller packed chock-a-block with hair-raising stunts, “The Grim Game” smartly capitalized on an accident during filming to pack in audiences, obscuring some facts along the way.

Self-liberator and escapologist Harry Houdini ranked as the world’s top illusionist in the 1910s. Hungarian-born Houdini “magically” escaped from handcuffs, chains, strait jackets, and locked cases in performances around the world, thanks to careful planning and special keys. He masterfully employed newsreels, magazine, and newspaper coverage to exploit his fame and derring-do.

TCM Classic Film Festival 

Mary Mallory’s “Hollywood land: Tales Lost and Found” is available for the Kindle.

“The Grim Game,” Great Falls Daily Tribune, Oct. 31, 1919.

The master magician recognized the importance of film for promoting his appearances as well as documenting his career for posterity. By the mid-1900s, Houdini included footage of his public escapes as part of his act. In 1909, he shot a documentary for the French company Cinema Lux entitled, “The Marvelous Exploits of the Famous Houdini in Paris.” Producer B. A. Rolfe produced the 15-part serial, “The Master Mystery,” starring Houdini in 1918 to release in conjunction with a novel. It featured strong man Houdini performing strenuous stunts as well as capturing many of his elaborate escape tricks for the camera.

“The Master Mystery’s success led Famous Players-Lasky in early 1919 to sign the illusionist to a two-picture deal to star in action-packed thrill pictures. The company hired magazine and scenario writers Arthur B. Reeve and John W. Grey to craft a creditable story around which to center Houdini’s amazing stunts. The company began filming in May under the direction of young director Irvin Willat. The story concerned reporter Harry Hanford (Houdini) looking for a big scoop for his newspaper and to pay off a debt, plotting with some gentlemen to kidnap a millionaire uncle and take him to the mountains, where he would be supposedly murdered, before Hanford revealed all in the paper. Instead, the old man is murdered, forcing the reporter to solve the mystery and save his life.

All the Lasky stars were supposedly eager to meet the illustrious illusionist, with some thinking up elaborate traps from which he easily escaped. The company doled out fictional press releases promoting his great escape skills, such as the one printed in the October 12, 1919 Washington Times. This story claimed that Houdini had accepted a challenge from four naval officers while making the picture. He lashed himself to the muzzle of a cannon located in the middle of Pershing Square, the weapon was loaded, a fuse attached, but the police prevented men from pulling the trigger. Houdini went ahead and extricated himself in two and half minutes from ropes tying him to the cannon, which took the challengers six minutes to tie.

Harry Houdini in “The Grim Game,” Picture Play Magazine.

At the end of May, a planned stunt went awry, leading to the biggest publicity break for the film. While Houdini and publicity materials would claim that the studly magician performed the stunt, actual newspaper accounts reveal the actual story. The June 1, 1919 Los Angeles Times states that three aircraft leased from Mercury Aviation of DeMille Field to the Santa Monica area on the afternoon of May 31 to shoot a sequence in which a stuntman would climb out of a moving airplane, dangle over a plane below, jump into it, take the wheel and successfully land the plane, standing in for Houdini’s character. Director Willat followed the two chasing aircraft in another biplane to film the exciting sequence.

Former airman Robert E. Kennedy climbed out of his speeding craft onto a dangling rope above the Lewis Ranch near San Vicente Boulevard and 26th Street in Santa Monica, from which he intended to jump into the moving plane below. Instead, an updraft of air caused the two planes to collide, leaving Kennedy hanging for dear life to the flimsy rope ladder almost 3000 feet in the air as the flying machines hurtled towards the ground. Kennedy miraculously survived being crushed between the two planes as the pilots expertly righted the two planes, with one landing safely and the other upside down a short distance away. The paper notes that pilot Lt. D. E. Thompson managed to keep his damaged plane from throttling into a nose dive, though he couldn’t control the plane’s movements, his propeller was smashed, and most of the upper wing had been ripped away. He successfully landed the plane, though upside down. The lower aircraft piloted by Lt. C. V. Pickup gently glided to a stop on a freshly plowed bean field. Director Willat, called Irwin Willett in the story, continued shooting, capturing the sequence on film.

The Associated Press wired the story across the country, and it appeared weeks later in several other newspapers and trade magazines. The New York Tribune published frame enlargements from the actual footage along with a story on July 6, 1919, claiming it the first ever actual airplane collision captured on film. They noted the planes were performing a stunt involving “former army pilot Robert Kennedy” for “The Grim Game,” stating, “The three extraordinary photographs above are part of a motion picture film which was recording the flight from another ‘plane at the time of the accident. This collision was unpremeditated and miraculously resulted in the injury of but one pilot.” Wid’s Daily reported the accident July 7, 1919, saying it occurred during the filming for “The Grim Game,” with an airman dangling from a rope.

In July, Houdini broke a bone in his left wrist while fighting four burly extras in the film, snapping his wrist, per both Wid’s Daily and Motion Picture News, with Motion Picture News calling the production a serial. Variety claimed he recuperating after breaking his arm while risking his life in the plane jump. Though he finished the scene, shooting was delayed two weeks while the strong man healed. During this time, Famous Players-Lasky negotiated a deal with the Society of American Magicians, founded by Houdini, in which the organization agreed to promote the picture, a fact the Lasky Company would employ in selling the picture to exhibitors.

Harry Houdini with Wanda Hawley, Moving Picture World.

‘The Grim Game” quickly opened in New York’s Broadway Theatre in late August, with Houdini himself appearing at every performance. It was here that the myth of Houdini surviving the botched accident took root. Like a current political party, Houdini and Famous Players-Lasky began repeating a false story so many times that the public began to believe it.

Houdini offered $1,000 to anyone who could prove the collision wasn’t authentic, but there was no mention in his bet that he performed the stunt. He would claim the next year to his biographer that he had been performing the stunt at the time of the crash, which made it into print.

The Lasky Corporation, however, falsely played up the idea of Houdini almost losing his life in publicity, realizing the actual footage of the collision was the ultimate selling card. They created a large ad noting that the Broadway Theatre was forced to turn away crowds who found the film the great suspense thriller ever. “The spectators are held spell-bound from the opening. They gasp! They grip their seats! And when the big climax – the aeroplane collision – comes, they break loose in a wild roar of applause!” A drawing of Houdini hanging on a rope from the biplane dominated the ad.

They included press releases in their press kit claiming that Houdini almost lost his life performing the stunt, which many theaters employed word for word in their local newspapers. One such ad appeared in the Cedar Rapid Evening Gazette January 15, 1920, stating, “SEE him above everything else, in the most astounding feat ever caught by a motion picture camera…An accident absolutely authentic and reported by the Associated Press.” They even reported he performed every one of his stunts. The Palatka Daily News quoted from a canned release in 1920 explaining Houdini’s heroics in surviving, and giving his reason for performing in the film, “The present generation can see me in person, but I want my most thrilling feats perpetuated on the screen, so that people in later years can assure themselves that I actually did them.”

The airplane collision in “The Grim Game.”

Early reviews found the film packed with “fast and furious action,” but filled with stilted acting by Houdini. The New York Tribune in its August 27, 1919 review felt the film took too long to get started, but found the last three reels crammed with action. Variety’s August 29, 1919 review believed the film didn’t live up to its reputation, finding the stunts not any more elaborate than regular serial stunts. They thought the unplanned airplane accident gave it the best hook. While they noted Houdini crawls out of chains, throws himself over a building wearing a strait jacket, frees himself from a strait jacket while hanging upside down on top of a six story building, frees himself from a bear trap, and the like, they felt the stunts weren’t effective because no one was certain Houdini was actually performing them.

Other reviewers mostly praised the film’s thrilling action sequences. Photoplay’s November review called it a “trick melodrama” featuring Houdini’s best stunts – escaping strait jackets, slipping off handcuffs, and featuring other amazing escapes. Paramount ran ads claiming critics described Houdini’s exploits more thrilling on the screen than in real life. “The Grim Game” will thrill America as it has never been thrilled before.”

Houdini to the rescue after surviving a plane crash in “The Grim Game.”

The film performed fairly well across the country. Exhibitor’s Herald printed comments from local exhibitors about how films performed in their community, and some described the film doing okay for them. Bert Golman of St Paul’s New Princess Theatre stated the film did well with men, but only so-so with women. W. G. Mitchell of the Majestic Gardens Theatre in Kalamazoo, Michigan thought the advertising was much too strong, leading them to expect more than they received. A. N. Miles of Eminence, Kentucky’s Eminence Theatre thought it was such a relief from all the love stories. “There isn’t a kiss in the whole picture and the only person who objected was an old maid.” One exhibitor thought it possessed as much action as a 15-part serial.

Decades later, Mrs. Houdini donated her husband’s print of the film to the Houdini Museum, who eventually gave it to a magician. After recent negotiations, he handed over the only known complete print, which has been restored and will premiere at the TCM Festival, before eventually appearing on the channel itself. The TCM Festival often premieres films long considered lost or kept from distribution due to rights issues. The 2015 Festival is entitled, “History According to Hollywood,” featuring screenings of such films as “The Sound of Music,” “Lawrence of Arabia,” “Inherit the Wind,” “Young Mr. Lincoln,” “Rififi,” “Too Late For Tears,” “Malcolm X,” “The Picture Show Man,” and “Gunga Din,” interviews with Norman Lloyd, Sophia Loren, Shirley MacLaine, and Peter Fonda, with special programs like “Hollywood Home Movies,” “The Dawn of Technicolor,” and “Return of the Dream Machine.” Hope to see you at the movies!

“Your Girl and Mine,” Moving Picture World.

From the 1840s on, many women in the United States fought to vote. Considered merely chattel, like slaves, women were forced to endure horrible marriages, see their children taken away, and forbidden to work in most professions, the property either of their fathers or their husbands.

Women like Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton began fighting for woman’s suffrage, believing if women had the right to vote, not only would their rights and conditions improve, but so would that of those less fortunate: the factory worker, the slave, the foreign laborer. The states and country would be forced to look at conditions like economics, schooling, and social issues, rather than focusing on military and industrial issues. As Anthony stated, “Women, we might as well be great Newfoundland dogs baying to the moon as to be petitioning for the passage of bills without the right to vote.”

Mary Mallory’s “Hollywoodland: Tales Lost and Found” is available for the Kindle.

“Your Girl and Mine,” The Daily Ardmoreite, April 18, 1915.

For decades, women fought for the right to vote, organizing conventions, leading protests, and walking door to door with petitions. Change would need to come from the votes of men, little of whom saw reason to change their ways or votes. Suffragists waged 480 separate campaigns just to get suffrage on state ballots between 1896 and 1908, succeeding only 17 times, per scholar Nell Irvin Painter, while men mocked them with the term suffragettes.

By 1914, members of the National American Woman’s Suffrage Association like Jane Addams, Anna Howard Shaw, and Mrs. Medill McCormick decided that motion pictures would probably be the most effective way to reach millions demonstrating their cause. The Anaconda Standard on March 1, 1915 described how more people would see the story on screen than could ever read a book or article or hear a sermon about the cause. A “drama of life, full of actions, thrilling situations, spontaneous and logical, showing how the law operates adversely to women” would hopefully change minds and hearts, leading to more states passing laws allowing women the right to vote.

They decided to make an original film called “Your Girl and Mine,” focusing on an everywoman who experiences myriad problems suffered in states without women’s suffrage, concentrating on pieces of action to draw the male interest and whether viewers knew anything about suffrage or not. The title pointedly emphasized that these things happened to the average woman, be they viewers’ daughters, sisters, or friends. As Shelley Stamp in her book, “Movie Struck Girls” also points out, their aim with “Your Girl and Mine” was to straddle the fine line between conventional views of woman and motherhood while showing the needs for increasing roles and rights for women.

Mrs. Medill McCormick, daughter of a United States senator and wife of the Chicago Tribune publisher, as well as one of leading members of the National American Woman Suffrage Association, was inspired to help finance and produce the film. She approached early film mogul William N. Selig, a supporter of feminist causes per trade magazines, to co-produce the film. They hired Gilson Willetts, author of the exciting Selig action serial, “The Adventures of Kathlyn,” to pen the script, blending issues facing the average woman along with moments of action and thrills.

“Your Girl and Mine,” Moving Picture World.

Selig hired respected actors from the stage as well as current film performers like Grace Darmond, Olive Wyndham, Sydney Booth, Katherine Henry, and Katharine Kaelred to star in the production featuring hundred of others during the summer of 1914, filming at the state-of-the-art Selig Chicago studio in a mad rush to get the film to theaters before the November elections in seven states where suffrage was listed on the ballot.

The film revolved around heroine Rosalind Fairlie (Olive Wyndham), who married for love but found out that her husband was always in debt, drank heavily, and deceived women with brutal instincts. She is forced to endure financial hardship, destitute conditions, paying his debts, and losing her children to him while finding out she has no right to divorce, because her state discriminates against women. Rosalie kidnaps the children before being found and arrested, finally tried and acquitted in a state that did support women’s suffrage. As a September 10, 1915, ad in the Fort Mason Evening Democrat stated, “She could have been a free woman instead of being more or less a slave.”

Her ex-husband is eventually killed by one of the girls intended as his victim. The governor in her new state eventually signs a suffrage bill, and she marries the lieutenant governor, ending up happy.

The film contained many issues important to suffragists: the rights of factory workers, terrible tenement conditions, eight-hour working days, and child labor. In effect, they hoped to move and thrill people enough to work to better working conditions for all, end child labor, improve living conditions, and give women the right to vote, perhaps a big mouthful to ask at one time.

Two of the main characters, Suffrage and Justice, appeared as apparitions through the use of double exposures and camera effects, appearing at important moments to comment on the action. Several women suffragists appeared onscreen as well, including Dr. Anna Howard Shaw, Jane Addams, and Mrs. McCormick herself.

While Selig produced the film, World Film Corporation led by Vice President and General Manager Lewis J. Selznick, distributed it across the country, with the suffrage movement to receive the full producer’s share of box office receipts, while exhibitors kept their share. World Film barraged the media with ads and stories noting how various suffrage groups in each state would help promote the film and receive profits from it. Many groups worked personally with the man they called “the P. T. Barnum of the motion pictures” to devise ways of selling it.

Just before the “Your Girl and Mine” Chicago premiere, the city censor and the National Board of Censors attempted to cut a scene involving a physical fight between Rosalind and her husband, but Mrs. McCormick felt the scene was too important to the story and refused to cut it.

Motography reviewed the Chicago screening of the seven reel feature in its October 31, 1914, issue, noting that the women applauded every major point the film made. They also stated, “Photographically the picture is fully up to the high standard set by the Selig Polyscope Company…and the skillfully worded sub-titles help to drive home the suffrage argument.”

Kitty Kelly in the Chicago Tribune gave a favorable review of the film, saying, “The accomplishment is exceedingly credible, both propagandically and pictorially, though of the former quality I cannot speak so assuredly as of the latter. To take it, however, from the waves of enthusiasm that greeted each well phrased argument that it carried home the force expected from it.”

“Your Girl and Mine” received mostly positive notices from both film trade journals as well as local newspapers, while some wrote in to castigate it.

Moving Picture World thought that the motion picture would do more for the cause of suffrage than all the eloquent speeches combined. They did think that it was modeled after “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” in hitting its political points, but described it as unpreachy and full of action and excitement. Variety called it sensational and melodramatic. Motion Picture News pointed out that in order to build a continuous story, the film was forced to combine wrongs against women from different states and push all bad traits into the main villain. Their review stated, “This attempt to interest the public in Woman’s Suffrage is rather weak, owing mostly to its probability.”

The Daily Missoulian on October 9, 1914 printed, “Hurrah for the suffragists! This is the prime way to drive home a great truth.” The New York Evening World described it as “both drama and a sermon,” and stated that mostly women applauded for its actions and truths. After a screening at the Casino Theatre in New York, the New York Times on December 13, 1914 claimed it was “the first time that suffrage propaganda has taken the form of a moving picture play.” The New Oxford Item pointed out in its November 25, 1914 issue, “It will bring on the argument that women are fighting for the ballot because their economic and social interests and demands that they share in government, and not merely because they want to vote for the sake of voting.”

Some men found “Your Girl and Mine” too hard hitting in how it totally villainized the main male character, while others found it total propaganda. Edward Toale wrote the New York Tribune on December 18, 1914, complaining about what he called the film making “fake impressions” about the law, trying to hook naive and unsophisticated viewers. The Bridgeport Evening Farmer in its review compared suffragism to socialism and Mormonism, just for daring to ask for changes and more equality for women.

Even some women’s groups spoke out against it. The Remonstrance Against Woman’s Suffrage in Boston described the film in its July 1915 issue as propaganda of the worst kind and “a lurid melodrama in which every man (save one) is a villain and every woman and child at his mercy.” They wondered what it had to do with Massachusetts, as did some in Pennsylvania, since theses states did allow some rights to women. The Pennsylvania Association Opposed to Woman Suffrage condemned the film because it didn’t specifically speak to Pennsylvania conditions, even though they knew it was a film made to be shown across the whole United States.

‘Your Girl and Mine” did sway some minds. The Portsmouth Herald wrote in its April 15, 1915 review, “Eight million women in the United States are earning their own living. If women are capable of earning their living, they are also capable of having the ballot. Who protects their rights, the hours of work, the wages, the conditions in general? It is the unions and the law. Women and girls are given equal rights in deciding the union rules, governing their labor. Why are they not qualified and why should they not have the privilege of deciding what laws they must work and live under?”

Creative advertising was devised to promote the film. Besides posters and lobby cards, there were some streetcar displays in black, white, and yellow, the color of the suffrage movement, with a map of suffrage states printed on it, pointing out states that still had failed to pass these laws. Some theaters decorated their lobbies in yellow, along with pennants printed with the words, “Votes for Women.”

Over the next year, “Your Girl and Mine” screened in various states around the country, like Illinois, Indiana, New York, Pennsylvania, Massachusetts, Minnesota, Oklahoma, Nebraska, Tennessee, Texas, with suffrage groups promoting it in their states, and often working as ushers and ticket sellers the first evening it played in a community, as well as speaking before and after screenings about suffrage.

In Madison, Wisconsin, suffragists hoped to give a free screening to Senators and Representatives, put discovered after investigating state law that it could be considered a bribe for trying to influence their notes, per the Madison, Wisconsin State Journal on March 2, 1915, instead urging they intend screenings to learn conditions women were facing.

Though women strongly promoted the films throughout their community, and it received a vast majority of good reviews, not enough men turned out to see “Your Girl and Mine,” leading to low box office receipts. It failed to turn enough men to the cause of woman’s suffrage at the time as well, and women continued protesting, even at the White House, over the next several years. It took until June 4, 1919 for Congress to pass the 19th Amendment, which was ratified on August 15, 1920, finally giving women the right to vote in the United States.

Though “Your Girl and Mine” is now considered lost, it pushed a great cause in swaying hearts and minds regarding the rights of women to vote on laws important to their economic and social livelihood. It gave further impetus to this great cause, which now sees women govern cities, counties, states, and even countries, deciding not only what is best for them individually, but the society as well.

6626 Franklin Ave., via Google Street View.

Hollywood, California, exploded in population during the late 1910s and early 1920s with the influx of moving picture companies arriving in town and people looking to work in the industry following suit. Originally a quiet, rural, farming community, Hollywood quickly grew more urbanized, with an increase in density.

Many people did not own their own homes during this period, renting single-family residences as well as apartment units from others. Subdivisions in the foothills began opening to cater to the more affluent new residents. Bungalow court apartments opened, appealing to middle-class singles and couples looking for somewhat independent living. Apartment houses were rushed into construction, replacing the family boarding houses that had dominated the scene.

Mary Mallory’s “Hollywoodland: Tales Lost and Found” is available for the Kindle.

A postcard for Chateau des Fleurs, listed on EBay as Buy It Now for $9.95.

As Hollywood became a mecca both for bi-coastal actors and upscale tourists, it required more luxurious rental opportunities. Developers began constructing elaborate, lavish apartment-hotels to appeal to these people, offering long-term rentals for those looking for something more permanent, or a pied-à-terre while visiting the city. Among these establishments in Hollywood were such pretentious sounding buildings as the Fontenoy, La Leyenda, Hollywood Tower, Chateau Elysee, and the Chateau des Fleurs.

The Chateau des Fleurs, located at 6626 Franklin Ave. at the top of Cherokee Avenue, grew out of the investment needs of Carl and Winifred Raab as a way to diversify and grow their saving. Carl Raab, born February 5, 1873, was the first white child born in what is now South Pasadena, son to German immigrants who established a successful dairy and creamery. Raab worked as the manager of his family’s creamery. After the death of his first wife, he married his second wife Winifred and saved his money.

In the mid-1920s, the Raabs began looking for a way to draw more income by investing their money in real estate. They purchased a residence at 6626 Franklin Ave, the former home of directors Jack Conway and Howard Hawks, upon which to construct a regal apartment hotel. Per the February 2, 1927, building permit, Raab intended to build a $275,000 four-story, fifty-unit apartment hotel, with concrete foundation and exterior, wood and plaster interior, wood floors, and slate roof. Twenty-five tons of steel and 500 bags of cement would be needed for construction of the 96’6” x 149’6” building, sixty feet tall at its highest point.

An ad in The Times, Sept. 23, 1927.

Architect Meyer-Radon Brothers designed a French Normandy-style Class C building containing 137 rooms and 50 units to be constructed by John A. Platt Construction Company at the former location of an eight room, two-story house.

The July 17, 1927, Los Angeles Times featured a story on the soon-to-open building, describing how its interior and setting evoked the French Norman style through furnishings, decorations, and natural stone fireplaces. All of units contained electric ranges and refrigerators, along with complete soundproofing. An August 10, 1927 advertisement called it “the ultimate in luxurious comfort, smart distinction, and perfection in service.” It noted that a descriptive booklet was available for those looking for more information.

On September 24, The Times announced the grand opening that day of the one month delayed building, with a reception featuring music and refreshments from 2 p.m. through 11 p.m. Manager William Danielsen, experienced in running French and continental European hotels, saw to every resident’s need. The story noted the “elegantly furnished apartments” and “luxurious hotel accommodations,” combining old world charm with up-to-date amenities. Each of the fifty units, a combination of single or double units, featured its own exclusive furniture and design in the French Normandy style, with authentic carvings of peasants. Drawer pulls and hardware were authentic reproductions of peasant art as well.

Guests entered through an outdoor patio landscaped with flowers and shrubs containing an open fireplace and an ornamental pool lit up at night. The interior lobby featured a rough wood-timbered ceiling and a large fireplace. The club and music room adjoined the lobby, with an elaborate grand piano decorated in the Normandy style.

Each unit contained electric ranges and refrigerators, with each refrigerator containing a water cooler holding twenty glasses of water. Electric heat operated by a button in each apartment warmed the units. Water softeners provided soft water at all times.

Some apartments contained natural fireplaces and singles contained “disappearing” twin beds. Units featured oak floors, decorated ceiling beams, and carved wood knobs and pulls. All apartments contained tiled bathrooms, with separate compartments for bath, shower, and toilet.

A canopied rooftop garden beckoned residents, featuring both sleek landscaping and outstanding panoramic views in each direction. A separate but fully enclosed children’s playground adjoined the terrace.

An ad for Chateau des Fleurs in The Times, Aug. 10. 1927.

The Chateau des Fleurs ran its own hyperbolic ad trumpeting the grand opening of the magnificent and plush building, stating, “Discriminating people who seek a home place that is delightfully different..where every detail of arrangements, appointments, furnishings and service is moulded into a consummate whole of infinite satisfaction and enjoyment.” They also noted all the companies who contributed to its opening, like Meyer-Radon Brothers, John A. Platt Construction Company, furniture from Roy Wertheimer & Co., landscaping by United Nurseries, linens and bedding from Pullman Linen Co., upholstering by Davis Upholstery Co., floor coverings by Thomas L. Leedom Co., draperies by Vermillion’s Drapery Studio, and bedroom, dinette, and living room furniture by the McClellan Manufacturing Co.

By January 25, 1928, the Chateau des Fleurs saw a change in management as they promoted themselves to the public. Their ad read, “Hollywood’s Most Exclusive Apartments – Beautiful Singles and Doubles of French Norman Design – Moderately Priced With Daily Service of Every Description.”

The building featured a large staff for guests over the early years, with many listed in the telephone book. Mrs. Nellie Valentine managed the building in 1929 and 1930, Chester Coldwell ran the hotel in 1934, Mrs. Ethel Brooks managed in 1938, with Mrs. Gretchen Warner managing in 1942. Sami Powers acted as engineer in 1928, with Mrs. Emma Krueger serving as housekeeper in 1929 and 1930. Ilene and Minne Baling served as maids in 1930, with Dorothy Haman acting as telephone operator, O. H. Stenzel as engineer, and L. Weiland Jeide and Donald McIver as clerks.

Celebrities, the affluent, and middle-class residents occupied the building over the years. Cinematographer Karl Freund resided in the building in 1930, per the Journal for the Society of Motion Picture Engineers. Diana Wynward occupied the building in 1932, as did Bramwell Fletcher, who often invited his friends like Ronald Colman to tea, per the Los Angeles Times. Actor Ian Keith somehow accidentally slashed both his wrists while performing a trick with a straight razor for friends on November 25, 1936. Photographer Man Ray lived in the building with Juliet Brower in 1940, per “Man Ray: American Artist.”

Ambitious showgirls and actresses like 1934 WAMPAS Baby Star Mary Wallace. Jean Fursa, and Velma Greschan also lived in the building, trying to impress with the residence as well as their beauty. Some, like music teacher Claude Fleming and Feodor Gontzoff, tenor, offered singing and music lessons out of their apartments. The People’s Opera Company operated out of the building in 1932 as well. The Chateau also advertised to those coming to visit the Olympics in 1932, as well as those coming for the winter from the East. By the late 1940s-early 1950s, many press representatives lived in the building.

An ad for Chateau des Fleurs in The Times, Sept. 24, 1927.

There were a few instances of notoriety at the Chateau des Fleurs. In 1931, resident and Hotel officer R. B. McConogue attempted to practice what Tom Lehrer preached in the song, “Poisoning Pigeons in the Park,” when he applied to the Police Commission for a permit to do just that, per the September 2, 1931, Los Angeles Times. The Commission turned him down flat. Mrs. Ruth Levi, visiting the building from New York in 1946, climbed out of her bathroom window and jumped down a ventilation shaft to her death on August 19, 1946.

Ownership flipped over the years, and management attempted to keep up with changing interests, times, and tastes. On October 15, 1939, the Los Angeles Times reported that the J. E. Benton Management Company had been employed by Deposited Bonds and Shares Corp. to operate the Chateau Des Fleurs, along with other luxurious hotels in its portfolio like the Ambassador Hotel, The Gaylord, and the Park-Wilshire.

A 1942 ad listed singles for $60 and doubles for $75, calling the Chateau Des Fleurs a luxuriously furnished abode, noting the building featured spacious rooms, all outside exposure, beautiful gardens and patio, modern roof gardens, and switchboard as amenities.

As Hollywood changed over the next several decades, so did the building and its clientele. The building was not as immaculately maintained as it had been in previous years, beginning to acquire a somewhat aged dowager look. While some still worked in entertainment, most were just regular middle class people. Newer, more hip buildings arose around it.

A 1978 ad for the building lists singles at $235 and one bedrooms at $275 plus utilities, calling the Chateau “an old classic building.” By April, the estate of Victor Nichols sold the building at auction in probate court to A. P. Lopez for $1.3 million, with the building now containing 16 singles, 23 one bedrooms, and one large bedroom plus den for the owners unit. A problem for more contemporary audiences , the story reported the building contained only 21 parking spots.

The Chateau des Fleurs still stands at 6626 Franklin Avenue, a proud, gorgeous grand dame awaiting a refurbishing to return it to its glory days of the 1920s and 1930s.

Mary Mallory and Karie Bible (whom we profiled at The Times) have collaborated on a new book, “Hollywood Celebrates the Holidays,” which goes on sale starting Wednesday. The book is published by Schiffer and includes 200 images from the silent era through the 1970s. The book is available from Amazon as a pre-order for $23.45. It will also be available at $29.99 at Book Soup, Skylight Books and Vroman’s.

The book launch party will be held from 4 p.m. to 6 p.m. at Larry Edmund’s Bookstore, 6644 Hollywood Blvd., on Nov. 7.

Appearances follow on:

Nov. 8 at 2:30 p.m. at the Orange County Public Library in Cypress, 5331 Orange Ave.

Dec. 2 at 7 p.m. at Book Soup, 8818 Sunset Blvd., West Hollywood.

Dec. 5 from noon to 4 p.m. at Hollywood Heritage Museum, 2100 Highland Ave, Los Angeles.

Also on Dec. 5, Karie Bible will be signing books between films at the San Francisco Silent Film Festival, 429 Castro St., San Francisco.

Dec. 12 at 1 p.m. Mary Mallory will speak at the Will and Ariel Durant Branch of the Los Angeles Public Library, 7140 Sunset Blvd., Los Angeles.

Feb. 11 at the Art Deco Society of California, with cocktails at 6:30 p.m. and a talk by Karie Bible at 7:30 p.m., Hotel Rex, 562 Sutter St., San Francisco.

Feb. 13 at 7:30 p.m., at a silent film screening and book signing, Niles Film Museum, 37417 Niles Blvd., Fremont, Calif.

Please congratulate Mary and Karie on their upcoming book!

More information is available here.

A PDF of the film festival’s 240-page catalog can be downloaded here.

Note: Mike Hawks recently returned from the Pordenone Silent Film Festival and this is what he tells Mary Mallory.

By Mike Hawks as Told to Mary Mallory

For 34 years, Le Giornate del Cinema Muto (the Pordenone Silent Film Festival) has been screening the best of silent cinema from around the world in Pordenone, Italy, about seventy miles from Venice. Co-founded by Americans and Italians, the festival lasts a week, with a diverse slate of films from virtually every country in the world. Audiences are just as varied and international, ranging from silent film cineastes to cosmopolitan journalists to renowned scholars.

The best available prints are presented to audiences with subtitles in English and Italian and accompanied by a wide range of musicians, screening from 9 in the morning to midnight each day. Ample lunch and dinner breaks are provided, along with opportunities to attend panel sessions or the book fair. It’s a week to enjoy old favorites, discover new treasures, broaden knowledge, and soak in the rich history of silent film and Italy.

A publicity still for “The Phantom of the Opera” (1925).

Mike Hawks attended the Festival from October 3 to 11, 2015, and relayed his visit to me. This was his second time to attend, after his first trip with friends in 2000. While the price has gone up, one pays only 200 Euros to see a week’s worth of films in a main theatre of three levels and opera-style box seats.

Ivor Novello in “The Rat,” (1925).

Mike enjoyed the fall weather, visiting with lots of familiar friends, and watching an amazing array of movies at the Teatro Verdi. While there were occasional screenings in a smaller venue, Mike focused his time on screenings in the main theatre. Just outside the theatre, an endless choice of restaurants beckoned to moviegoers, along with plenty of tempting gelaterias.

A publicity still from “The Phantom of the Opera,” (1925).

His favorite film of the entire week was the 1928 German film “Invincible,” an all-round entertaining movie with great stunt work by an actor who was an aerialist with the circus. Also highly recommended was “Drifting” (1923), the last film Tod Browning directed for Universal, starring Priscilla Dean, Wallace Beery, Matt Moore, and Anna May Wong. It was a story set in China about opium smugglers, with nice acting By Wong and Dean.

An image from Ernst Lubitsch’s “Romeo und Julia im Schnee,” 1920.

Ernst Lubitsch’s rarely shown 1920 film, “Romeo and Juliet in the Snow,” a fully restored print, officially kicked off the festival, accompanied by full orchestra. Lubitsch and writer Hans Kraly update the story to the 20th Century and set it in a snowbound city in the Black Forest, telling a comic story of two warring families and how their children fall in love.

An image from “Maciste Alpino,” (1916).

Also screening that evening was the 1916 Italian film, “Maciste Alpino,” showing how the Italians and Austro-Hungarians found themselves fighting face-to-face on a 250-mile front in the Alps, up to 6500 feet. Sadly at the time of the film’s release, 10,000 men died in a single day in avalanches. The Italian propaganda film lifted Italian spirits with a likable and indefatigable leading man.

An image from “Maciste Alpino,” (1916).

One of the highlights of the Festival was the premiere of the formerly mostly lost but now restored Laurel and Hardy film, “The Battle of the Century” from 1927, accompanied by the irrepressible Serge Bromberg on the piano. A full house, including locals and their children, turned out to see the Lobster Films’ restoration of the movie, thanks to the discovery of a missing reel in a deceased collector’s archive. For the first time in almost 90 years, filmgoers witnessed the hysterical 3000 custard pie fight. This was a comic highlight of the week.

Other American films played throughout the festival, including three Douglas Fairbanks’ films: “The Mollycoddle” (1920), the imaginative “When the Clouds Roll By” (1919), an early Victor Fleming-directed film, and the great stunt-filled and crowd-pleaser, “The Mark of Zorro” (1920). Other Victor Fleming films that played included 4 minutes of fragments for the rare “Call of the Canyon” (1923), the violent 1927 Richard Dix vehicle, “To the Last Man,” “The Way of All Flesh” (1927), and “Wolf Song” (1929), part talkie, part silent with Lupe Velez, Gary Cooper, and a young Russ Colombo.

An essay by Ron Magliozzi in the festival catalog examined the career of Bert Williams.

A running program throughout the Fest was dedicated to the Beginnings of the Western, with primitive shorts featuring G. M. Broncho Billy Anderson, J. Warren Kerrigan, and other Selig, Kalem, American, and Bison films.

Cartoons featuring Koko the Clown, Disney’s Alice, and Oswald the Lucky Rabbit also screened. Such films as “Ramona” (1928), “Sherlock Holmes” (1916), and the moving documentary “The Champion” (2015) played at the Festival, after screenings here in the United States.

Restored American prints made their film debuts. The pleasant Alice White comedy “Show Girl” (1928) played, along with the 1925 “The Phantom of the Opera,” featuring restored tints and scenes, along with Carl Davis directing an orchestra playing his new score. It looked fabulous.

An image of Bert Williams in “A Natural Born Gambler,” (1916).

There were foreign films from many countries: Japan, England, France, Germany, Italy, Russia, Argentina, Mexico, Bolivia, and Norway. Mike enjoyed the Ivor Novello and Mae Marsh 1925 English film, “The Rat,” and the striking visual fragments of Japanese films that played, many about samurai, featuring a Benshi performing the narration with a three-piece ensemble. He thought the 1924 French film “L’Inhumaine” by Marcel L’Herbier stylistically incredible. He also found Sergei Eisenstein’s “October” (1928), the two-part 1924 German film “Helena,” and the almost seven hour 1925-1926 French film “Les Miserables” very good.

Bert Williams in “Lime Kiln Field Day,” (1913).

Mike was not impressed with the series called Russian Laughter, featuring Soviet films made during the 1920s. He did not find them funny and couldn’t take much of that, so skipped most of the films.

An image from “On the Firing Line With the Germans,” (1915).

During the Festival, he ran into many friends and acquaintances from both the East and West Coasts, whom he shared meals and free time with, including taking time off on Tuesday to visit Venice with Marc Wanamaker and a few others. They traversed the city on foot and by vaporetto, seeing much of the town, along with passing Bette Midler and her husband during their sojourn.

Music accompaniment was very good per Mike, with his favorite piano playing accompanists including Phillip Carli, Donald Sosin, and Stephen Horne.

For silent film fans, the Pordenone Silent Film Festival is a week in heaven, devoted to the art and craft of the emotional and visceral films of the period.

Margaret Bourke-White and Michael Curtiz during filming of “The Adventures of Robin Hood.”

Renowned photojournalist Margaret Bourke-White fearlessly documented battles on land, air, and sea, surviving combat zones, strafing during a bombing run, torpedoing at sea, and the bombardment of Moscow. Always hungry for new experiences, Bourke-White traveled the globe to observe, to learn, and make sense of the world. To that end, she would work briefly in Hollywood learning the art of moviemaking, an area little covered in her career.

Born Margaret White in New York, the young girl quickly grew interested in the field of photography through her father’s enthusiasm for cameras, continuing to work with practitioners and study the field while taking classes in college, before switching her focus to lenswork. White worked for the campus newspaper at her alma mater, Cornell, snapping shots of the area around the school, before establishing a commercial photography studio in Cleveland, Ohio in 1927, specializing in industrial and architectural photography. It was here she combined her parents’ last names to form her professional moniker, Margaret Bourke-White.

“Hollywood Celebrates the Holidays,” by Karie Bible and Mary Mallory is now on sale.

A Camels ad features Margaret Bourke-White, May 6, 1938.

Her vivid and dramatic compositions led a position as associate editor and staff photographer at Fortune magazine in 1929, where she shot titans of industry, national leaders, and average citizens. She also fearlessly climbed atop eagle sculptures overhanging New York’s Chrysler building to document both it and city.

Bourke-White’s curiosity led her to seek out adventures in unfamiliar landscapes, like the Soviet Union, where she became the first foreign photographer allowed to photograph factories and industrialization in 1930. Her stark, geometric compositions focused a harsh look on mass manufacturing. While carrying out her work, Bourke-White observed the struggling but proud Soviet people, and began recording their lives as well.

She decided to make a film documenting the Soviet land and peoples, her first time behind a moving picture camera, in order that more Americans might come to see the land and understand it and its people. Bourke-White returned to the United States in 1932 with more than 20,000 feet of film, and began whittling it down into a workable form.

The February 14, 1934 Film Daily reported she had negotiated a deal with Van Beuren Corp., in which they would purchase the film and see it released as part of the Vagabond Adventure Series released by RKO. The trade journal called her “one of the outstanding commercial photographers in the United States,” noting her outstanding composition and lighting.

Anne Baxter photographed by Margaret Bourke-White to publicize “The North Star.”

‘Margaret Bourke-White: A Biography,” states that Van Beuren bought one tenth of the footage for a third of what it cost Bourke-White to shoot. A little confused, Motion Picture Daily stated on February 2, 1934 that the photojournalist would make two films for Van Beuren, which would be “compiled, edited, and recorded under her supervision.”

The first eleven minute documentary, narrated by Bourke-White, was released to theaters in November 1934 on a bill with King Vidor’s “Our Daily Bread,” with Variety calling “Red Russia” a Soviet travelogue. The review stated that “Margaret Bourke-White is shown grinding her camera” at houses, farms, apartments, animals, and factories of Russia, which they described as “a swell publicity break for the U.S.S.R.” Film Daily called it thrilling and noted the fine composition by the lady cameraist of “Eyes on Russia,” with both it and Motion Picture Daily calling the short very interesting and informative.

It appears that unfortunately the second short was never released. After the headaches of dealing with film distribution and production executives, Bourke-White wiped her hands of filmmaking, never picking up a motion picture camera for the rest of her life.

Not long after, Henry Luce lured her to his new magazine, Life in 1936, hiring her as one of the four original staff photographers to craft articles marrying photography and journalism on a wide variety of subjects. In effect, she became the first photojournalist, marrying photo and reporting to tell a compelling story. In order to maintain editorial control of her work, Bourke-White printed to a black border, which revealed her cropping.

Bourke-White would split her time between documenting the towering machinery and infrastructure of America’s manufacturing might and military struggles of lands fighting for their identity, like Spain, while also recording human interest and entertaining stories on the makings of motion pictures. Between these assignments, she could take time off to focus on personal projects like books and special subjects. Bourke-White captured strong human interest stories like struggling sharecroppers in the South, the poor factory worker beaten down by machinery, war victims, and the like. Though once renowned for her strong visuals of machinery and power, she gained recognition for her stark but vulnerable images of tired, proud people living in primitive conditions.

Some of her lighter subjects revolved around the shooting of films. Jock Lawrence of the Samuel Goldwyn Company arranged with Life for Bourke-White to shoot “odd shot angles” of “The Goldwyn Follies” for an eight-page spread, per the October 14, 1937 Daily Variety. In early November, she captured odd moments and unique compositions during the filming of Paramount’s “the Big Broadcast of 1938.” To obtain just the right sour look she wanted, Bourke-White called director Mitchell Leisen “Mr. Lasky” just before snapping one picture.

For several years, Bourke-White traveled the world with her new husband, novelist Erskine Caldwell, documenting the life of sharecroppers in the South, the battles in China, and the start of war in Russia. She was the only western photographer in Moscow when war broke out with Germany, shooting shelling of the city and country during the siege in 1941.

Escaping Russia, the fearless Bourke-White took on new challenges as she flew on an aerial mission with American pilots over Europe, surviving flak and gunfire. She also escaped a torpedoing unharmed, but losing her cameras and most of her clothes in the process. Returning to the United States, Bourke-White lectured and wrote books.

Margaret Bourke-White took the cover photo for the first issue of Life magazine.

Sam Goldwyn brought her back to Hollywood for work in spring 1943 to bring some prestige to his big budget dramatic look at the invasion of Russia and the suffering of a small Ukrainian village, “The North Star,” written by Lillian Hellman. Respected director Lewis Milestone would helm the project, with talented James Wong Howe serving as cinematographer of the stirring look at the Russian war front. The April 7, 1943 Motion Picture Daily reported that Bourke-White would shoot motion picture stills for the first time on the film, with its subject dear to her heart.

For several weeks in April 1943, Bourke-White lensed production stills, off-camera action, and portraits for “The North Star” alongside veteran stills man Hal McAlpin, formerly of Paramount. The war movie introduced young actor Farley Granger to movies, along with such veterans as Walter Huston, Ann Harding, Dean Jagger, Erich von Stroheim as a German doctor taking transfusions from children, and young Dana Andrews and Jane Withers. Viewing stills in the core production files of the Margaret Herrick Library, McAlpin’s appear more dramatic and eye-grabbing, perhaps because of his wide experience in shooting on sets.

Paramount Pictures sought Bourke-White’s life story in May 1943, after actress Loretta Young approached studio executive B. G. De Sylva about making a biopic after meeting Bourke-White and discussing her galvanizing life. Young realized the dramatic potential of reenacting Bourke-White’s exciting and fearless adventures on the big screen, giving her a meaty part full of action and thrills, something usually left to men stars. Unfortunately, Paramount dragged its heels, and nothing came of the intriguing possibility. As the Los Angeles Times stated in an April 1943 column, “Margaret Bourke-White is perhaps the only American woman to know how it feels to to under enemy fire in a Flying Fortress as well as the desperation of riding hostile waters in a lifeboat after a torpedoing….”

While her experiences in Hollywood came to an end, Bourke-White continued her global adventures covering breaking news as well as turning out books for several years. She began appearing on news shows, which documented her life and career, after many appearances on radio shows.

In 1952, Bourke-White discovered she suffered from Parkinson’s Disease, which greatly affected her work, bringing it to a crawl. Others began writing and documenting her work, emphasizing the importance of her pioneering work. The 1957 documentary “The Photographer” by Willard Van Dyke, focused on the life and careers of photographers Edward Weston, Eisenstaedt, and Weegee, along with that of Bourke-White. The short featured the narration of Raymond Massey and music by a young Elmer Bernstein. Teresa Wright played her in a 1960 NBC telefilm called “The Margaret Bourke-White Story,” showing her fighting against Parkinson’s and still making her voice heard in the world.

Margaret Bourke-White died on August 27, 1971, finally overcome by Parkinson’s, but one of the first people to undergo surgery in an attempt to cure the disease. She made a dramatic impact on the world of photojournalism, creating a whole new way of looking at complex issues and places. Her work in film is mostly forgotten, overcome by the more intrepid and exhilarating adventures in capturing life’s dramatic moments.

Mary Mallory, left, and Karie Bible spent years tracking down photos for their project.

We stopped off at Larry Edmunds Bookshop on Hollywood Boulevard on Saturday afternoon for the authors’ presentation and book signing of “Hollywood Celebrates the Holidays,” by Karie Bible and Mary Mallory.

“Hollywood Celebrates” is a handsomely produced, glossy paper book with beautifully reproduced images accompanied by their original captions from the studios, some of which are literate and others no so much.

Mary gave some background on the history of movie stills and publicity shots while Karie talked about the treasure hunt of finding vintage pictures. They noted that Greta Garbo hated doing publicity shots and that finding anything of her was extremely challenging (alas, a Garbo valentine was the closest they could get).

The seasonal images include Thelma Todd (New Year’s), Jack Mulhall (St. Patrick’s Day), Gail Russell (Easter), Lizabeth Scott (the Fourth of July), Clara Bow and Veronica Lake (Halloween) and Gloria Swanson (Christmas).

Karie and Mary gave effusive praise to author and photographer Mark Veiera for working wonders with the old and sometimes battered prints to make them pristine. Mark is one of those rare people who is a scholar, writer, artist and technician and he does gorgeous work, which is on display throughout the book.

“Hollywood Celebrates” is available from Amazon for $28.34. In addition to Larry Edmunds, the book is available for $29.99 at Book Soup, Skylight Books and Vroman’s.

If you missed the appearance at Larry Edmunds, you still have a chance for another signing:

Nov. 8 at 2:30 p.m. at the Orange County Public Library in Cypress, 5331 Orange Ave.

Dec. 2 at 7 p.m. at Book Soup, 8818 Sunset Blvd., West Hollywood.

Dec. 5 from noon to 4 p.m. at Hollywood Heritage Museum, 2100 Highland Ave, Los Angeles.

Also on Dec. 5, Karie Bible will be signing books between films at the San Francisco Silent Film Festival, 429 Castro St., San Francisco.

Dec. 12 at 1 p.m. Mary Mallory will speak at the Will and Ariel Durant Branch of the Los Angeles Public Library, 7140 Sunset Blvd., Los Angeles.

Feb. 11 at the Art Deco Society of California, with cocktails at 6:30 p.m. and a talk by Karie Bible at 7:30 p.m., Hotel Rex, 562 Sutter St., San Francisco.

Feb. 13 at 7:30 p.m., at a silent film screening and book signing, Niles Film Museum, 37417 Niles Blvd., Fremont, Calif.

Hazel Glab’s mug shot.

This story arises from Linda Hammonds asking for further information regarding a 1920s Spanish home that sits at 12744 Ventura Blvd. on the Facebook page SoCal Historic Architecture. While I found virtually no information on the house itself, the story about what happened there proves that truth is stranger than fiction.

Pretty, blonde Hazel Belford was born in Oklahoma circa 1900, becoming orphaned at the age of 4. Her early life was full of adventure: friends with cowboys and Indians on the plains, and befriended by Al Jennings, bank robber. She dreamed of fame and fortune for herself, which many felt possible, with her delicate frame and long blonde hair.

“Hollywood Celebrates the Holidays” by Karie Bible and Mary Mallory is now available at Amazon and at local bookstores.

The Glab case, Oakland Tribune June 20, 1928.

At a young age, she married salesman Mr. Vendig, but soon divorced him after moving to Los Angeles to seek glory in the film industry. Never becoming a star, Hazel landed only a few extra parts, She returned to Oklahoma in style. Miss Belford met and quickly married cab driver Fred Garland. Life as a boring cabbie’s wife wasn’t all it seemed to ambitious Ms. Belford, and she accused another young girl of theft. Hazel divorced him as well and moved to Chicago for plastic surgery in her search of excitement and adventure as a flamboyant flapper.

Ms. Belford soon discovered it all right, occasionally indulging in the bootlegging trade, especially after meeting a wealthy Cicero, Illinois druggist and reported rum runner by the name of John Glab in 1925. He earned huge sums on the side by selling alcohol for “medicinal purposes” to many of his clients. The druggist and Belford enjoyed each other’s company for a short time, before Hazel once again returned to bright lights, big city Hollywood. Though seeming to land few parts, Hazel Belford dressed stylishly and walked around in high heels that clicked as she pounded the pavement. Glab soon immigrated to the city, joining her to reside in the same structure before tiring of Southern California and eventually returned East.

Moving to a different location, Miss Belford lived in another boarding house with former Los Angeles cop W. D. McIntyre after a passionate affair. In January 1927, Belford was accused of shooting and wounding McIntyre in the cheek when he returned to the establishment in a drunken state, threatening and insulting her. Miss Belford pled self-defense, with the police soon dropping charges against her. Hazel happily returned to the frantic life of a madcap flapper.

Hazel Glab is questioned and booked, Oakland Tribune, June 21, 1928.

Missing her terribly, John Glab moved to Reno, Nevada, in order to gain a quickie divorce from his first wife, Martha. Upon gaining his freedom, Glab and Hazel married just five months later, setting up residence in the City of Angels. Glab purchased a large but elegant Spanish home at 12744 Ventura Blvd. in Studio City, a luxurious love nest for the supposedly happy couple. Leaving his gangster friends behind, John Glab “retired” from his druggist duties at the age of 36, spending his time playing cards and enjoying splurging on his young wife.

Unfortunately, the Glabs’ endured a stormy relationship, with the two engaging in frequent arguments over the use of money, which was observed and overheard by many. They appeared to have little in common, with the druggist more serious and somber and Hazel Glab the life of the party.

On the night of June 18, 1928, Hazel and her niece, 17-year-old Ethyl Kaser, were playing cards with Mr. Glab, while listening to the radio. Hazel finished her favorite cigarettes, asking her husband if he could run to the store and buy her favorite brand of cigarettes.

Mr. Glab walked out to the parked car a little after 9 p.m. to drive to the local supermarket. Neighbors heard two sharp reports, rushing outside to discover the source of the noise.The June 19, 1928 Van Nuys News reported that Tom Harris of 4010 Fairway Drive heard shots, looked outside his window and noticed Glab lying on the ground beside the opened door of his car.

Mrs. J. Goodrich heard the shot and Glab’s call for help. Running to the window, she noticed “a woman in a light dress run from the parked car to the Glab house.” She heard clicking noises running away from the scene of the crime.

Goodrich and Harris called police, ran over and forcefully knocked on the Glab door to ask if everyone was OK. Both Hazel Glab and Miss Kaser claimed they heard nothing over the din of the blaring radio. At the same time, Mrs. Glab wore a light tan dress, with her blonde hair tied in a long bob.

An ambulance rushed John Glab to the Van Nuys Receiving Hospital, as he stammered “Mona” to emergency workers in his semi-conscious state. Though police sped to his side, Glab fell into a coma and died on the operating table before revealing the name of his killer. Dr. O. F. Twomey stated that Glab’s death was due to an internal hemorrhage in his right chest.

Million-Dollar Murder Mystery in the Salt Lake Tribune, Sept. 2, 1928.

The September 2, 1928, Philadelphia Inquirer stated that police discovered interesting information after interviewing members of the household. Mrs. Esther Wilson, the maid, and her husband, M. A. Wilson, the gardener, informed investigators that the couple often engaged in violent quarrels, with young Glab threatening to kill her husband for not spending enough money on her. The neighbors mentioned hearing shots and seeing a woman run away from the scene of the crime. Detectives also discovered that Glab hired a private dick to shadow his wife just days before his death, after feeling threatened by both her and ex-cop McIntyre, who did possess an alibi.

Detectives W. G. Marr and F. A. Murphy and Sgt. C. C. Johnson searched the house and discovered a .38 caliber revolver under the pillow in Wilson’s room, freshly cleaned and loaded, along with a British pistol in a drawer. Officers quickly arrested both Mrs. Glab and her niece as well as the 27-year-old chauffeur Merritt Wilson as they searched for the murder weapon and clews to the motive. Grilled for hours at the Van Nuys Police Station, the three were eventually transported downtown, where none would talk.

The coroner’s inquest began on June 20, with the Oakland Tribune reporting that Hazel Glab dissolved into hysterics upon first being grilled by police, but when she saw her late husband’s body outside the hearing room, she remained unmoved and unfeeling. She and the others were cleared of his death on June 26, 1928, after the murder charges were dropped for lack of evidence, since the police lacked the murder weapon. The case faded into the “limbo of unsolved mysteries,” as a later article in the LA Times declared on June 21, 1931.

The Freeport Daily Review on June 27, 1928 called her a former extra girl and recorded her statement after the hearing. “I knew we would be freed without having to stand trial.” Giving a grand performance, she somewhat hysterically and triumphantly said, “The charge was ridiculous in the first place. I had no reason to kill my husband.”

Hazel was desperate for her husband’s supposed wealth, thought to run into the millions, battling in court to fight against her husband’s will which left everything to his first wife Margaret and their eight-year-old daughter. Her attorney Louis G. Campbell claimed that $15,000 in bonds and other securities were missing a month later as they probed John Glab’s assets, finding only $10,000 so far. The Philadelphia Inquirer on September 2, 1928 called the 29-year-old the “beautiful, child-like, closemouthed little wife” looking only what was rightly due her.

In February 1930, Los Angeles police reopened the case into John Glab’s death, after arresting Russell Frank as a material witness. They staged a reenactment of the murder at the house, attempting to nail down details and witnesses as they continued to search for the murder weapon. Neighbors once again testified to hearing gunshots, acknowledged by the niece but still denied by Hazel. After further investigation came up empty, police again dropped the case.

Needing cash, Hazel brought suit against John Glab’s estate on April 25, 1930 in Chicago federal court, alleging relatives and others with hiding half of his $500,000 estate, thereby reducing her share. There is no follow up to this article, but it appears she failed to prevail in this item.

While Hazel claimed to desire fame as an actress, only notoriety appeared to follow her. She received a black eye on December 25, 1929 in a brawl at an apartment located at 1348 Ingraham Street and continued out on the street, where Herbert Franzelle beat her with the butt of a pistol. Upset with Franzelle, Glab attempted to shoot him and cried out, “I’ve killed one man and I’m about to kill another!” After an off-duty officer at the party disarmed her, she ran and took a revolver hidden under a cushion before this too was pulled from her hand. She threw her fur coat out the window and stood nude except for stockings and shoes.

On October 20, 1930, a free-for-all fight broke out at 12744 Ventura Blvd. at an all-night party when uninvited guests showed up and began throwing bottles, but no one pressed charges, per the Van Nuys newspaper. Later, on June 20, 1931, Mrs. Glab, under the alias Sue Bell, earned a black eye when trying to defend her friend Mrs. Ayers from the the blows of her husband.

By 1930, Hazel was forced to sell the luxuriously furnished Spanish bungalow above Ventura Boulevard at auction, with a November 1, 1930 advertisement noting that furnishings and furniture would be sold. “Magnificent furnishings” included Persian and Chinese Oriental rugs including one costing over $7,200. Elegant walnut case piano, Renaissance walnut living room suite, a nine-piece carved Teak bedroom suite, statues, and bronzes were among the items to be sold.

Hazel Glab disappeared from the scene until tragedy once again brought her name into newspaper headlines in 1935.

To be continued…..

Hazel Glab

In later life as Hazel Stoddard

This is Part 2 of the story of Hazel Glab, flamboyant flapper, whose husband, John, died under mysterious circumstances June 18, 1928, at 12744 Ventura Blvd., in Studio City. Murder charges against her were dropped for lack of evidence.

The Case of the Clicking Heels, Part 1.

Hazel Glab disappeared from the scene until tragedy once again brought her name into newspaper headlines in 1935. Wealthy Los Angeles manufacturer Albert Cheney, 65, died of a heart attack March 13, 1935, in Las Vegas, only 10 days before he and his fiancee, Hazel, who was 36, were to wed. Newspapers reported on April 22 that the former Mrs. Glab would return to Los Angeles to enter into probate a will handwritten in purple ink on hotel stationery, which left almost his entire $400,000 estate to Hazel, with only his home and furnishings at 15 Berkeley Square left to his daughter, Mrs. Taylor.

“Hollywood Celebrates the Holidays” by Karie Bible and Mary Mallory is now available at Amazon and at local bookstores.

Hazel Glab, in trouble again, Ogden Standard Examiner, May 19, 1935.

During testimony in probate court, the will was declared a forgery, and Cheney’s daughter filed suit contesting the validity of the will. On October 25, 1935, Hazel Glab was sentenced to jail in lieu of $10,000 on charges of forging Cheney’s will. Sheand her co-defendant Mrs. Clara Steeger were brought to trial December 18, 1935, charged with Mrs. Glab in forging the will and Mrs. Steeger and her husband witnessing it. Mr. Steeger admitted his guilt, gaining probation in exchange for testifying in the trial.

Witnesses testified to how Hazel plotted to meet Cheney, and then once a couple, kept him intoxicated most of the time. After his death, the will was forged by using chemical and abrasive erasure to remove all but Cheney’s signature from hotel stationery, and writing out the document above it. On December 27, 1935, Hazel Belford Glab walked from the defense table to the witness stand, her high heels clicking on the wood floor, to testify that Mr. Cheney gave her the will, and denying any forgery.

The former Mrs. Glab was convicted December 28 of forging the Cheney will and preparing false evidence, receiving a one- to seven-year sentence for forgery and one to five years for the false evidence charge. Publicity around this case led the police to once again open the Glab murder case.

Los Angeles police detectives question Hazel Glab, Ogden Standard Examiner, May 19, 1935.

On January 9, 1936, District Attorney Buron Fitts announced that seven witnesses had been called to testify before the grand jury in a reinvestigation of Glab’s death, with one witness’ name withheld. He stated that in October, new information had emerged about certain persons who knew “important facts” regarding the case but had not been thoroughly questioned during the investigation. These new facts helped the police construct a new timeline for the event, blowing the alibi of “the suspect who was never prosecuted.” The police once again searched the former Glab home on Ventura Boulevard for clues, and through an arrest in another investigation, the suspected murder weapon came into police’ hands. This gun was the one seized after Herbert Franzelle employed it in beating Mrs. Glab, a .32-20 revolver.

Hazel Belford Glab’s trial for murder convened March 2, 1936, with prosecution aiming to prove that Mrs. Glab left the room where she was playing cards to accost and kill her husband outside for threatening to leave her the next day, before slipping back into the house. Detective Floyd Oden would testify about disarming her at the 1931 party, and a former neighbor would also testify about seeing her outside the home the evening of the murder.

The March 4, 1936, Los Angeles Times described how carefully prepared, detailed maps would reveal the directions and layout of the murder, showing that Mrs. Glab and her niece actually returned home in the car, from which Mrs. Glab sent her niece to ask her husband to meet her outside. Once there, she shot him, and when she ran toward the house, she saw her maid leaving her quarters. Mrs. Glab therefore ran into the garage, hid the gun in a secret compartment of the other car, and slipped into the house by a side entrance.

The click-clacking of high heels on the street introduced a powerful line of argument according to the March 5 paper, witness Mrs. W. S. Goodrich testified at the grand jury that she heard the clicking of a woman’s high heeled shoes as she saw a woman flee from the car towards the Glab residence.

New testimony the next day also threw a damper on Glab’s claims of innocence. Jack Heater testified to the fact that a month before Glab’s death, Hazel Glab offered $500 to anyone who could kill her husband for her. Investigator Jack Southard found two secret compartments in the Glabs’ other car in which the murder weapon could have been hidden.

Hazel Glab, April 24, 1958, in The Times.

On March 6, the jury, attorneys, Judge Frank Smith, and Mrs. Hazel Glab visited the former Glab residence to see prosecutors trace the route Mrs. Glab followed after killing her husband, hiding the gun and returning to the home.

Hazel Glab herself testified March 16, 1936, denying that she had murdered her husband. She did admit that she nicked W. R. McIntyre in the neck in February 1926 before her marrying Glab, after an argument when she informed McIntyre she intended to marry the druggist. Her story differed in many ways from the testimony of prosecution witnesses. Unfortunately for Mrs. Glab, her niece Miss Kaser, who had provided her an alibi in 1928, did not testify when the defense could not serve her with a subpoena.

The jury spent many hours in deliberation. After 24 hours’ deliberation, the jury asked to rehear testimony about Mrs. Glab’s movements, and were deadlocked at 9-3. The jury finally convicted her of second-degree murder on March 20, 1936 after 27 hours’ deliberation. She was sentenced to seven years to life, to be served in the women’s prison at Tehachapi.

On April 2, 1936, Hazel Glab, along with several other defendants, made their way to San Quentin, where mug shots were produced and profiles written, before they were shipped off to their final destination. Mug records reveal that Hazel recorded as prisoner  No. 58878. Over the next few years, she asked for parole several times, only to be denied. Her appeal of the murder sentence also fell on deaf ears.

12744 Ventura Blvd., via Google Street View.

Hazel Glab was paroled secretly on November 29, 1941, and ended up living with a family in Long Beach. They asked for her arrest January 22, 1942, believing she had stolen the family car after being denied permission to drive it. When she returned to the home shortly thereafter, charges were dropped. In September 1945, Mrs. Glab was accused of being intimate with a policeman on the night of his marriage to another woman. Mrs. Estelle Speers testified that Mrs. Glab possessed loose morals and disrobed in front of both her and her husband before engaging in relations with Mr. Speers in her presence.

For more than a decade, Hazel Belford Glab remained out of trouble before notoriety once again crossed her path. She married actor Alfred Judge, before divorcing in 1955. Needing cash after a few years, she resorted to desperate measures. Police hauled her to court April 24, 1958, on a charge of pandering, accused of recruiting and employing a 27-year-old woman to act as prostitute out of her home. The woman reported she had earned $500 for less than two weeks’ work before police stepped in. Hazel was convicted June 10, 1958, and sentenced to six months in jail.

Hazel Glab auctions off her home and furnishings, Nov. 1, 1930.

In 1965, a former cellmate at Tehachapi, Mrs. Ione Selman, hauled the 61-year-old Hazel Glab Stoddard into court on a charge of obscene calls. Mrs. Stoddard contended that Mrs. Selman stole private papers from her. Both denied the other’s accusations. Before going into the courtroom, the women settled the case, with Mrs. Selman agreeing to return the papers if Mrs. Stoddard never called her again. Hazel told the October 27,1965, Los Angeles Times that the papers “were to be the basis ‘of a book about the people in my life.’” Reporters Howard Hertel and Jerry Cohen unrolled the notorious and colorful back story of Hazel Glab Stoddard in the article, titled “The Click of Her Heels Reveals Her Jazz Age Escapades.”

Seeking fame and fortune, Hazel Belford Glab Stoddard instead earned only notoriety and jail time for her lurid and self-serving past. The lovely Spanish style home at 12744 Ventura Blvd. therefore stands as an ironic reminder of sensational Los Angeles’ crimes and misdemeanors, a silent witness to colorful and sad events.

“Weegee, Weegee, Tell Me Do,” courtesy of Mary Mallory.

What we know as the game of Ouija evolved out of spiritualism practices into a major fad of the early twentieth century. While some denounced it as a form of devil worship, others enjoyed its entertaining qualities or ties to their spiritualism practices. Its ability to answer questions or possibly foresee the future were employed as gimmicks to sell popular entertainment to audiences in a variety of fields.

Born out of a need to connect with the souls of departed loved ones and friends, spiritualism helped its practitioners feel at peace and ease in the world by asking questions of these spirits. It sprung out of potentially supernatural events at a Hydesville, New York farmhouse in 1848, when the Fox family experienced mysterious raps in the night. Youngest daughter Kate Fox challenged the ghostly spirit to repeat in raps the number of times she flipped her fingers; thus establishing a form of communication, these raps were employed as a way to answer questions.

“Hollywood Celebrates the Holidays” by Karie Bible and Mary Mallory is now available at Amazon and at local bookstores.

By the 1860s, the practice of speaking with spirits through sittings was popular, particularly in France and England, and eventually led to the formation of its own spiritual organization. Opposition from those who compared it to witchcraft or necromancy led to condemnations and even violence.

Elijah H. Bond developed a game based on the practice of mediums communicating with spirits in 1890 when he created the game of Ouija and its “Talking Board.” He assigned his creation to the Kennard Novelty Company, founded by Charles H. Kennard, Harry Welles Rusk, William H. A. Maupin, Col Washington Bowes, and John F. Green and incorporated October 20, 1890 with $30,000 at Kennard’s failing fertilizer factory at 220 S. Charles Street in Baltimore, Maryland. Ouija earned patent #446054 in 1891, later trademarked by the company on February 3, 1891. What started as a game eventually gave way to an obsession, and still exists 164 years later. Its popularity would influence the creation of songs, plays, and even movies featuring the little board and its communicating skills.

Ouija, pronounced and sometimes called Weegee by its practitioners, quickly attracted followers, both those interested in communicating with spirits and others just looking for fun. The game consisted of a “Talking Board” filled with letters and numbers and the words “yes” and “no.” A planchette on which two people would place their fingertips would select words based on vibrations. As with other incredibly popular toys, the fad would explode in popularity for a few years before dying away, only to be revived again later.

Advertisements appeared as early as January 1, 1892 promoting the talking board, which cost 98 cents. One 1892 ad explained how it talked of past and future, while an advertorial in the Rochester Weekly Republican on January 16, 1892 called it “the most wonderful invention of the 19th Century,” major hyperbole, claiming its results passed that of second sight, mind reading, or clairvoyance, and that it was “thoroughly tested” and “demonstrated” at the United States Patent Office before gaining its patent.

Some newspapers reported as early as July 1892 that it was created as a toy but exploded in popularity when discovered by spiritualists. They also denigrated it by claiming its followers were inclined to practice evil things or utter disreputable words after playing with it.

Those fearful of anything new condemned it and its followers, claiming it was irreligious and evil, leading its practitioners into paths of darkness. They described many of these people as gullible, excitable, or nervous, easily swayed by temptation or simplicity. Foes derided it, claiming it caused mental or emotional issues, particularly among women. They claimed it allowed those susceptible to scams or mental influence to become victims of its power.

Wesley Barry and a Ouija board.

The November 13, 1917 Los Angeles Times derided people who played with Ouija as believing in superstition and the occult, stating, “It is deplorable that people who otherwise evince an unnatural amount of common sense should thus become the victims of inanimate objects which have neither intelligence nor power. Will superstition ever be eliminated from the mind of humanity?”

Many men upset with their wives or female relatives employed the practice or playing with a Ouija Board as a sign the women were insane, mentally defective, or the like, particularly when they were seeking divorce or a greater share of an inheritance in decisions that did not favor them. From evidence in newspapers, only men employed these strategies in court cases, with the courts overwhelmingly finding for them and sentencing women to insane asylums or overturning wills.

In 1903, Frederick Olcott and his brothers Hans and Frank worked to break their father Joseph’s will through claims of the influence of spiritualism and ouija. They claimed their father and sister, Mrs. Josephine Kroff, were avid practitioners of spiritualism, with Mrs. Kroff working as a medium employing a ouija board. They were incensed their father left his entire $80,000 estate to her.

Charles Delaney of Portland, Oregon filed for divorce from his wife Pauline in July 1910 when he claimed she became obsessed with the game, trying to decipher whether he was cheating on her. Mrs. Delaney was institutionalized for a short time while Mr. Delaney was granted his divorce.

The July 31, 1917 Los Angeles Times reported that Judge Crow committed Lucy E. Palmer of Oxnard to an asylum per her husband’s statement that she believed in Ouija. Any time a woman questioned authority, asked for greater freedom or power, or acted independently, the simple act of even playing the game could be employed as a defense to lock her away.

Businessman Gaylord Wilshire, the stepson of Mrs. Susan Wilshire, contested probate of a will leaving most of her $800,000 estate to the YMCA to help sailors and soldiers in training camps, claiming she was mentally incompetent from using a Ouija Board.

Dr. William J. Hickson, director of Chicago’s leading psychopathic laboratory thought people who played the game became obsessed with it to evade responsibility, rendering them insane or deluded, per the February 14, 1920 newspaper. At a July 1920 medical conference in Philadelphia, doctors discussed whether the Ouija fad produced an increase in nut cases, or whether nut cases led to the fad. Directors of state hospitals claimed it unbalanced minds, mostly played by people of “highly strung and neurotic natures.”

Seventh Day Adventists fought against seances and Ouija in March 1920, with ministers of various religions calling it a “Toy of the Devil” at the same time.Dr. Herbert Booth Smith of Immanuel Presbyterian claimed that Ouija could lead to devil worship as there were more of these games than Bibles in the homes of university students.

In 1919, Ouija exploded in popularity again across the United States, possibly due to the tragedy of World War I and the loss of so many people. The January 8, 1919 Los Angeles Times described an increase in the occult, seances, and playing of the game because “so many splendid men and women have recently crossed the vale which the faithful believe leads from life to life.” Playing the game allowed participants to communicate one last time with dear departed loved ones, allowing some solace. Many felt it selfish to call them back from a place of peace to offer words of comfort.

Ouija playing became an epidemic in the Southland, with the entertainment industry helping to explode it into the popular conscience once again. While papers noted it gave some comfort, others derided the game, calling it “a duplex hootinganic consisting of a sample of polished dance floor with an alphabetical frieze doll’s milking stool with green felt slippers and a heart-shaped seat,” of course claiming it didn’t work.

Many stars played the game for fun, happily posing for photos distributed to magazines and newspapers. Others took to it in hopes of divining their future in the often precarious industry. Many held parties to both entertain themselves and others by enjoying the game, while at the same time happy if it gave them hope of a promising future. Los Angeles Times columnist Grace Kingsley also claimed that the game’s popularity was also due to the fact of the material world taking the place of alcoholic spirits with the rise of Prohibition.

Early in January 1920, composers William Jerome and Harry Von Tilzer took advantage of the national craze for the game to create the first song about it, “Wee Gee, Wee Gee, Tell Me Do,” which soon became a major hit, which their publishing company, owned by Von Tilzer, called “The craze of the country, the Great Ouija Board Song.” The patter of the second verse stated, “This little board is the ruler of the nation now,” which appeared to be the case in many places. As with most things about the game, the song focused on women and their uses for the board, with the second chorus going, “Wee Gee, Wee Gee Tell me do, Are the men you marry girlies always true? Should the supper table wait for the ones who really love to come home late.”

The January 21, 1920 New York Clipper called it a cleverly written song. Many vaudeville and minstrel performers quickly added it to their acts, including top stars Marie Cahill and Lew Dockstader. “Wee Gee, Wee Gee..” led all sales for sheet music the week of June 5, 1920 as well.

Crane Wilbur and Ruth Hammond in “The Ouija Board.”

The craze took off in other forms of entertainment as well, with the one-act play “Ask Ouija” and and Crane Wilbur’s successful play “The Ouija Board” employing it as both title and theme. Reviews called “The Ouija Board” a thriller about spiritualism, in which “real spooks invade a fake seance, leading to a murder mystery and suspense.

Newspapers and magazines employed it as a way to talk about possible future events, with the Motion Picture Herald titling a column, “Reading the Ouija Board” and others asking, Ouija, Ouija, Tell Me Do” in stories about sports, weather, and games of chance. Cartoon characters Mutt and Jeff consulted the Ouija in several strips as well.

Ouija dominated films that year as well. Writer Frances Marion adapted the short story, “the Manifestation of Henry Orth,” a satirical comedy about actions happening around the Ouija Board for the screen. Max Fleischer’s KoKo the Clown featured a spooky Ouija. Doug Fairbanks even employed a Ouija in his film, “When the Clouds Roll By.”

The first to actually feature the game both prominently in the title and story was the Cohn Brothers’ Hall Room Boys comedy, “Tell Us, Ouija,” in which Neely Edwards and Hugh Fay join in consultation with spirits “to put up a front without any financial backing,” long before Mel Brooks’ “The Producers.” Film Daily considered them wise to acknowledge such an important fad, with comedy sure to please and earn nice returns.

By late 1921, the Ouija fad began fading, but the game ended up in the Supreme Court in 1922 when the new trademark owner, the Baltimore Talking Board Company appealed a Federal Court decision which agreed with the government’s classification of the game as sporting goods, thereby making its profits taxable. The Supreme Court refused to hear the case, and the lower court decision stood.

The Ouija Board is still around today, though not as popular as in past decades, thanks to frenetic and colorful video and computer games replacing it in popularity. Though what many would consider old-fashioned, the game will never entirely go away, as many people look for ways to divine their future or bring good tidings into their lives.

When I began researching and writing my Arcadia Publishing book “Hollywoodland” almost five years ago, standard gossip stated that developers constructed the giant Hollywoodland sign in July 1923 as a billboard promoting the development, all with no documentation or backup. Neither the Los Angeles Times nor the Los Angeles Examiner ran such a story at the time, nor did any book. I even fell into the trap of believing something without legitimate sources backing it up.

After examining the subject over many years, I can safely say that Hollywoodland developers created their massive billboard in late November and early December 1923, thanks to multiple sources placing its construction at that time. There was no story in any newspaper the day it was completed, but Hollywoodland publicity chief L. J. Burrud immediately employed the mass media to publicize it and the development in big ways. Copying tactics from his past, adman Burrud developed stories of interest to newspapers, magazines, and newsreels, spreading the story of the glamorous hillside development across the United States.

“Hollywood Celebrates the Holidays” by Karie Bible and Mary Mallory is now available at Amazon and at local bookstores.

Jan. 6, 1924: The Times publishes a photo of an Oakland car that was driven up to the Hollywood sign.

Burrud began his motion picture career in 1910, working in various capacities in Hollywood before moving to El Paso to begin work as a newsreel cameraman for the Fred Feldman Company per the July 13, 1915 El Paso Herald, filming actualities that appeared in local and national moving picture theatres. The young man smartly realized the end game of all advertising was to drum up sales, and to that end, he began manufacturing short films and massive stunts like employing a giant crane to lift an automobile containing the mayor of El Paso and the stars of his short film about the city onto the top of Elephant Butte Dam.

Young Burrud later shot newsreel footage around the Southwest and in Mexico before creating advertorial film product like newsreels or shorts promoting various automobile companies, displaying cars like the Dort and Maxwell ascending to the top of Mount Zion, traversing deserts, surviving icy canyon passes, and scaling mountains. His scenic films of the Southwest were as much advertisement for the automobiles as anything else.

[Hollywood sign premieres, November 1923]

On September 7, 1923, developer S. H. Woodruff hired Burrud as publicity chief for Hollywoodland after noticing his work as press man for Lake Arrowhead, promoting that real estate development. Here, he met Los Angeles advertising man John Roche, who would go on to design the Hollywoodland sign for development partner Harry Chandler. This sign would dwarf all other real estate name signs around Los Angeles, including Whitley Heights, Outpost Estates, Bryn Mawr, Bel-Air, and the like, all intended as temporary advertising signposts.

Burrud began planning all types of ballyhoo to push the name “Hollywoodland” before the public. He placed stories with glamorous images of Spanish Revival and French Normandy homes in newspapers and magazines. The pressman began shooting a film documenting the building process of the Hollywoodland demonstration home late that fall, shown at a 1924 national real estate convention. In October, Burrud arranged for an Oakland Six motor car driven by Harry Nevill to carefully descend one of the rough, unpaved hills to the edge of Lake Hollywood. The story that ran in the October 23, 1923, Miami Daily Arizona Silver Belt described how the car’s four-wheel brake system carefully allowed it to descend grades up to 55% in accomplishing the feat. Just a few weeks later, an image in the November 16, 1923 Holly Leaves shows an empty Mount Lee, devoid of any sign or construction equipment.

A worker shows the scale of the Hollywood sign,  Practical Electrics, September 1924.

Around the same time, real estate partner and Los Angeles Times publisher Harry Chandler pondered a way to heavily promote the development both night and day, beyond the many stories he could run in the Times. He devised the idea of a giant billboard promoting the development, bringing in local advertising man John Roche to conceive the perfect emblem of style and success. Roche mimicked other real estate signs by spelling out the name of the development but went a step further, devising one of huge white letters that could be seen miles away, unlike those colored red which were only visible within a few miles. He would claim decades later that the huge sheet metal letters were fifty feet high and thirty feet wide.

Developers acquired sheet metal, telephone poles, pipes, and chicken wire with which to build their temporary sign, employing mules and caterpillar tractors to carry the materials up the rough shorn road and steep hill to the top of Mount Lee. Working carefully on the precipitous lands, construction workers sank the sign’s framework of telephone poles into flat areas of the hillside in a jagged line, invisible from the flat lands below, upon which to construct the Hollywoodland sign.

[L.J. Burrud, Hollywoodland Publicity Man]

Publicity man Burrud brought in Fox Movietone newsreel cameraman Blaine Walker to capture the sign’s construction in late November 1923, with the undeveloped negative arriving at the Fox Movietone Newsreel office dated “November 27th-23,” per Greg Wilsbacher, director of the Fox Movietone Newsreel Collection at the University of South Carolina. The punch record of the New York office also shows a late November 1923 date.

Employing one of his old automotive stunts, Burrud approached Harry Neville and the Oakland Motor Car Company in December about this time scaling Mount Lee in the car to pose by the freshly constructed Hollywoodland sign. As described in the December 30, 1923 Los Angeles Times:

“Under the guidance of Burrud the car was driven up the trail made by the caterpillar tractor on the very razor edge of the hogback that leads upward…It took quite a few minutes to get the car up over the worse of the grade and then the task of turning it around presented itself. A motley crowd of hill climbers, workmen, salesmen, and curiosity thrill seekers watched this task and when at last Neville and the Oakland headed downward a cheer resounded from the throng.”

The Hollywoodland sign, Practical Electrics, September 1924.

The image of the Oakland Six posed by the Hollywoodland sign appeared in the January 6, 1924 Times. As the story points out, the sign was electrified, already fitted with small light bulbs which at night flashed the words, “Holly,” “Wood,” “Land,” “Hollywoodland,” as a giant welcoming beacon to the neighborhood.

One other story seals the construction date of the sign, an article recently forwarded to me by another historian. Titled “The Mammoth Hollywoodland Electric Sign,” the story ran in the September 1924 issue of “Practical Electrics,” describing in detail its behemoth size and construction date. Even then the story claimed that the city of Hollywood was well known to people, hardly requiring advertising. It stated that the sign, visible for twelve miles, “is claimed to be the largest sign in the United States and the only attention it has required during eight months of display has been a weekly winding of the time switch and oiling of the flasher twice a month.” This proves that the sign began construction in late November 1923, finishing up in December.

[Hollywoodland Opens]

The story goes on to present the difficulty in transporting materials up the steep hills before its construction, describing the irregular and rocky hillside on which it was placed after tons of dynamite created the holes necessary for the framework of telephone poles “60 to 80 feet in height.” Letters at one end were 15 feet higher than the other, and some letters were 40 feet in front of the proper line, with others behind, in order to fit them on “the irregular surface.” The article reports that taken in a straight line, the sign would be 975 feet long with the letters 45 feet high.

Holly Leaves, November 1923.

‘Two by six inch timbers, placed 16 to 24 inches between centers, are the horizontal elements of the frame. Galvanized iron or sheet metal letters were nailed to the frame, with “each stroke of a letter is 13 feet wide.” The article states that 3,700 10-watt lamps were placed along the edge of each letter, with “the effect of this is that there is a shadow or dark space between the sides of each stroke, which is found to give an advantage in legibility at night.”

55 outlets composed each circuit, with the open wiring located on the back of the sign. “Everything centers in a junction box near the center of the sign. Here there is a pilot flasher and time switch. The flasher switches on “HOLLY,” then “WOOD,” then “LAND,” successively; then the whole sign is extinguished and the flasher repeats its work.”

Taken all together, these items prove that the Hollywoodland sign started construction in late November 1923, with completion in December. What was quickly and haphazardly erected in late 1923 ironically has become a giant advertising symbol for the city and industry of Hollywood, a worldwide icon on a par with the Eiffel Tower, Big Ben, and Statue of Liberty. A lowly real estate billboard now rates as Los Angeles’ top tourist attraction.

“Hollywood Celebrates the Holidays” by Karie Bible and Mary Mallory has been receiving lots of attention since it was released in October and we were quite pleased to add a copy to the Daily Mirror library.

The book  is available from Amazon for $24.39. It is also available at $29.99 at Book Soup, Larry Edmunds Bookshop, Skylight Books and Vroman’s. (Check the bookstores’ websites for availability).

Or you can pick up a copy at the following book signings:

Wednesday at 7 p.m. at Book Soup, 8818 Sunset Blvd., West Hollywood.

Saturday from noon to 4 p.m. at Hollywood Heritage Museum, 2100 Highland Ave, Los Angeles.

Also on Saturday, Karie Bible will be signing books between films at the San Francisco Silent Film Festival, 429 Castro St., San Francisco.

Dec. 12 at 1 p.m. Mary Mallory will speak at the Will and Ariel Durant Branch of the Los Angeles Public Library, 7140 Sunset Blvd., Los Angeles.

Since almost the beginning of the motion picture industry, advertising tie-ups and promotions have stoked audience interest and desire in seeing certain moving pictures and movie stars. Studios quickly learned that partnering with another company or popular product cut the costs of advertising and promotion, as well as created huge audience awareness of their upcoming features. Stars often engaged in production promotion to gain financial rewards as well as to increase their popularity and name recognition with the public. If the studios or stars owned all or part of the tie-ups even better, as they earned huge profits on consumer spending for these items. As Moving Picture World described it in a June 28, 1919, the aim was not only to sell movies to exhibitors, but “to sell pictures to the public.”

In the early 1920s, Paramount Pictures joined in partnership with a novelty company for a special series of tins promoting several of the studios’ stars, in a bid to goose their actors’ popularity at the same time as the exploitation reminded the public of the studio’s development of attractive, vibrant motion picture personalities.

“Hollywood Celebrates the Holidays” by Karie Bible and Mary Mallory is now available at Amazon and at local bookstores.

The Beautebox, advertised in the Janesville Daily Gazette, Nov. 21, 1922.

Motion Picture News announced in the August 20, 1921 issue that the studio had signed renowned illustrator/actor Henry Clive to an exclusive one-year contract to design poster key art. The deal evolved out of his lavish portraits of the stars of Cecil B. DeMille’s “The Affairs of Anatol,” converted into three-sheet personality posters promoting the film.

Building on this idea, they paired with Beautebox to devise products to sell to the moviegoing public, all handsomely illustrated by the talented Clive in what the December 9, 1922 Exhibitors’ Herald called a “permanent advertisement for Paramount Pictures.” Metal tins with black enamel finish of differing sizes and shapes featured gorgeous likenesses of Paramount stars Wallace Reid, Gloria Swanson, Rudolph Valentino, Betty Compson, Pola Negri, Bebe Daniels, and Mae Murray, intended as keepsake boxes and souvenirs.

Tom Kennedy in the November 25, 1922 Exhibitors Herald stated, “Painted by Henry Clive, they are a handsome lot of novelties and look expensive. Whether they are expensive or not worries us little. What we marvel at is the enterprise and aggressiveness of these motion picture advertising people.”

Douglas Fairbanks cigars remained popular into the 1930s.

Just in time for Christmas gifts, newspaper ads began appearing across the country promoting the special containers, calling them both novel gifts as well as useful. An ad in the November 21, 1922 Janesville Daily Gazette called it “The very thing for gifts, favors and prizes. Covers or round boxes can be used for wall decorations, plaques, etc.” The empty tins could also be employed for a variety of uses, including holding gloves, handkerchiefs, jewelry, crackers, fruit, candy, nuts, sewing, cigarettes, makeup, playing cards, poker chips, and sewing equipment. The luxurious looking tins ranged in price from twenty cents to one dollar.

Exhibitors Trade Review reported that a new process allowed a lithographic image of a star to be adhered permanently under the cover’s surface. These lovely gifts allowed exhibitors to arrange cooperative window advertising with department and novelty stores, often providing free tickets for each tin purchased. Many exhibitors and newspapers listed them as collectibles, suggesting fans collect the images of their favorite pin-ups. At the same time the tins promoted stars, they also increased moviegoing.

Stars also joined in the publicity and promotion craze as a way to deepen their ties with moviegoing audiences and to profit off their soaring popularity. As author Tracey Goessel points out in her new biography, “Douglas Fairbanks, the First King of Hollywood,” movie superstars like Mary Pickford, Charlie Chaplin, and Fairbanks earned big bucks for licensing their names and likenesses for a variety of products.

The Beautebox in Exhibitors Trade Review.

A Douglas Fairbanks cigar was introduced in 1919, a cheaply priced one to appeal to mass audiences. It quickly became a hit with consumers, hoping that smoking a Fairbanks’ cigar would lend them the joie de vivre and success of the attractive Fairbanks. The Retail Tobacconist stated on April 20, 1922 that Irving Wertheim, a representative of the Clarence S. Gable Manufacturing Company of York, Pennsylvania, would promote the “nickel cigar of demonstrated quality.”

As the May 18, 1922 Tobacco Illustrated Weekly reported in a short blurb that “an implied guarantee goes with each cigar to the effect that once the smoker and the cigar meet, they become lasting friends and the smoker inherits that world known smile of the movie king, whose name they bear.”

Douglas Fairbanks’ cigars remained popular for years, with ads still promoting them in the late 1920s and early 1930s.

Even today one can acquire their own Fairbanks’ cigar boxes or Canco Beauteboxes as special holiday gifts, all thanks to the diverse auctions of eBay, Bidstart, or Etsy. What were originally items intended as affordable purchases linking consumers with their favorite stars now stand as unique collectibles demonstrating how little has actually changed in the entertainment industry.

A detail of a matchbook for Al Levy’s Tavern, 1627 N. Vine St., listed on EBay as Buy It Now for $6.95.

Much of the glamour of classic Hollywood grew out of the fame and atmosphere of its famous restaurants and nightclubs, oases of sophistication and excitement. Stars came to see and be seen, while dining at the same time. Some came because they enjoyed the ambiance or service of the establishments, others merely because the businesses reigned as the “it” spots of the moment. Many eateries remained popular for their excellence food, service, and welcoming presence, like Al Levy’s Tavern located at 1623-27 N. Vine St. Levy’s restaurant grew out of humble beginnings in downtown Los Angeles to reign as one of Hollywood’s premier nightspots for more than a decade.

For more than 50 years, Levy served Los Angeles and Hollywood residents, offering fine dining and festive atmosphere. He catered to the entertainment industry, offering a supportive haven for the film and stage crowd. Many could identify with the friendly and humble man, who saw his simple oyster cart grow into one of the Southland and West Coast’s most popular hotspots.

“Hollywood Celebrates the Holidays” by Karie Bible and Mary Mallory is now available at Amazon and at local bookstores.

An undated photo of Al Levy in a 1940 newspaper clipping.

Born April 25, 1860, in Liverpool, England, Alfred Asher Michael “Al” Levy dreamed big, longing to move to America as a boy. He arrived in San Francisco August 15, 1876 after sailing from Liverpool, and worked hard to make a living. He became a naturalized American citizen on July 16, 1888. By 1886 he lived in downtown Los Angeles, where he operated a small cart that he pushed around the city selling oyster cocktails, a food item he had invented. Per the March 24, 1941 Los Angeles Herald, he stood outside the Opera House at First and Main at midnight to serve theatre crowds.

His high quality food at affordable prices quickly became popular, with bars and later restaurants buying them to sell to eager patrons. Levy used his money to purchase a small “hole in the wall” shop to operate his own establishment, which quickly grew in popularity. Levy recalled for newspapers that “My oyster cocktails were so popular that the saloons began ordering them for their famous free lunches. Then the restaurants began buying them,” and soon he opened a small oyster house at Fifth and Spring Streets. Levy later served what the paper called “hot bird and cold bottle” days, popular with the middle class. His squab simmered in wine sauce became a popular item with the carriage trade crowd.

The July 29, 1897, Los Angeles Herald noted he was renting three adjoining stores on West Third Street as he business quickly grew, spending $5,000 to $6,000 in improvements to attract higher society folk, expanding beyond seafood into classic dinners and sumptuous surroundings.

Levy in a 1940 newspaper clipping.

The theatre crowd as well as cafe society flocked to his restaurant, which saw civic leaders drop in for lunch as they contemplated city duties. His colorful and loquacious personality attracted many to his restaurant as well, which he continually expanded and upgraded as his business grew, moving to Third and Main, and eventually 617 S. Spring St.

Many early silent film pioneers regularly visited his establishment, including Col. William Selig, D. W. Griffith, David Horsley, and Thomas Ince, as well as top stage performers like Minnie Maddern Fiske and Harry Lauder. The May 15, 1914, Variety noted that Levy’s new cafe downtown was “the gathering place for professional people.” To show his support, Levy hosted an Actor’s Fund salute on February 10, 1916 with 60% of gross receipts of his restaurant that day devoted to the fund.

On May 5, 1917, he reserved a special section in his South Spring Street cafe to exhibitions, exchange men, and other moving picture industry people to exchange ideas and develop new policies.

By the 1920s, such film luminaries as Jesse L. Lasky, Ford Sterling, Ruth Roland, Roscoe “Fatty” Arbuckle, Tom Mix, Mabel Normand, and Charles Chaplin were regulars at Levy’s Cafe. Levy saw the writing on the wall, however, noting that the film industry had moved north and west into Hollywood. In order to keep his best customers, Levy needed a new establishment in the heart of the film colony.

After forty-four years in business, Levy finally opened a new restaurant in Hollywood, announcing in the November 14, 1930, Los Angeles Times that his Tavern would open in early December after over $100,000 in improvements in decorations and equipment at the new 1623 N. Vine St. location.

He hired architect Jack Schultz to design “One of the most distinctive cafes on the Pacific Coast,” after his praised work in creating outstanding interiors in the Roosevelt Hotel’s Blossom Room and the Fox Wilshire Theatre. The lavish interior would be required to cater to the motion picture industry and other discriminating clientele.

The November 28, 1930, Los Angeles Times described the “modernistic French manner” of the interior and noted that architects Morgan, Walls, and Clements had designed an “old English-style building” for the new eatery, which the December 17 edition of the paper called “an exact replica of an old English inn.”

Levy in a 1940 newspaper clipping.

On Wednesday, December 17, 1930 at 7 pm, Al Levy’s Tavern opened with grand festivities featuring special souvenirs, Klieg lights, an orchestra, a special dinner, and light show. After it opened, the restaurant featured a large, diverse menu with an emphasis on chops, steak, and seafood, with exclusive delicacies.

By August 21, 1931, Levy remodeled the interior in order to seat more than 400 due to the business’s popularity. He spent $10,000 to remodel the back bar and lunch counter in order to add more tables and booths. Eugene Stark was hired as manager on October 2, 1931, bringing his distinctive German-Hungarian recipes with him, a popular draw around town. He introduced a special nine course meal costing $1.25, in line with reduced prices during the Depression.

The motion picture industry once again dominated business, with many agents holding lunch meetings, businessmen and executives concluding deals, and others grabbing a quick bite before shooting or taping radio shows. Throughout the 1930s, Al Levy’s Tavern reigned as one of Hollywood’s prime dining establishments. Stars such as James Cagney, Paul Muni, Gary Cooper, Samuel Goldwyn, Boris Karloff, Thelma Todd, Charley Chase, Carole Lombard, Mary Pickford, King Vidor, David O. Selznick, Joe E. Brown, Hugh Herbert, Anita Page, Alice White, Lyle Talbot, and the Sultan of Jahore regularly dined at the popular eatery.

Location managers organized a group that met regularly at the restaurant as did a songwriting and composers’ organization created by Jack Robbins called the Robbins Round Table Club met regularly in the mid to late 1930s.

Levy took over the restaurant in the Plaza Hotel January 10, 1933, going into partnership with General Ivan Lodijensky when he moved his upscale Russian Eagle cafe into the empty location. By November, Levy sold out his interest in the business.

An undated photo of Al Levy in a 1940 newspaper clipping.

The tavern sometimes skirted the law; on May 18, 1934, Levy was found guilty of serving alcohol by the drink, a charge he appealed to a higher court. I can find no follow up as to how the case was resolved.

Levy constantly needed to expand due to his popularity; in 1934 he took over Stanley Rose’s book shop next door in order to add a bar after the end of Prohibition. He remodeled again, with the Tavern reopening May 20, 1935 with ads trumpeting Levy’s serving of three generations of Angelenos, as well as the heavyweights of the motion picture industry. A special champagne dinner was served at $3 a head, which included pint bottles of Montant Champagne.

In 1936, Levy celebrated his Golden Jubilee in the restaurant business, holding a grand party in the Tavern, which had recently been named “the Most Distinctive Cocktail Room” on the West Coast.

Movie Classic magazine in 1937 called bartender Jack Marsh “the mixologist whose advice is sought by celebrities when their own cocktails taste like hair tonic…” The Tavern’s new Maitre d’Hotel, Alex Montoya, served many a star at Agua Caliente before joining the staff.

Al Levy, center, and Eddie Sutherland, right, in Photoplay magazine.

While the restaurant thrived, Al Levy was slowing down. On February 10, 1940, he collapsed in front of the eatery with a cerebral hemorrhage, and rushed to the hospital. He recuperated, but his health was never the same. Levy passed away March 24, 1941 after an operation at Cedars of Lebanon Hospital. He was buried at Forest Lawn Glendale.

His son Robert Levy took over management of the restaurant, continuing its operation. Just days after the elder Levy’s death, the Tavern hosted a 50th Anniversary luncheon honoring George Barbier’s 50 years in Show Business. Universal organized the luncheon with Ralph Morgan serving as chairman and Mischa Auer as master of ceremonies. Such stars as May Robson, Hobart Bosworth, Frank Craven, C. Aubrey Smith, Joseph Hawthorne, William Desmond, and William Farnum hosted their long time colleague.

On July 1, 1941, a major fire swept through the tavern during the lunch hour, forcing 200 patrons to flee. A cook dropped a can of hot grease on a boiler plate, leading to the conflagration. The fire caused more than $40,000 to $50,000 damage. Mike Lyman, President of the Mid-Town Catering Company, operator of the tavern, stated that most of the equipment and interior was ruined by water damage. He also announced, “It is our intention to rebuilt as soon as the building is turned over to us.”

Simon’s Restaurant signed a ten-year least for more than $150,000 on the space, making immediate renovations to the space, turning it over to Mike Lyman, who opened Mike Lyman’s Grill on September 7, 1941.

Al Levy’s reigned as one of Hollywood and Vine’s top hotspots for more than ten years during an era that we now know as that of Classic Hollywood. Levy himself served the residents of Los Angeles and Hollywood for more than 50 years, bringing good food and fellowship to his patrons. Only memories now exist of this once classic restaurant, , now the location for a parking garage.

Bing Crosby, Fred Astaire, Marjorie Reynolds and Virginia Dale in “Holiday Inn.”

Recognized today as one of the top selling singles and pieces of sheet music of all time, Irving Berlin’s “White Christmas” was just one of eleven songs in the 1942 holiday classic, “Holiday Inn.” First put to paper by Berlin in 1940, the tune evolved over time before becoming the beloved hit sung by the dulcet tones of baritone Bing Crosby.

Jody Rosen, in his book, “White Christmas: The Story of an American Song,” reveals that on Monday, January 8, 1940, Berlin composed forty-eight bars which his secretary Helmy Kresa transcribed to manuscript paper, after the composer flew into the office claiming he had written his greatest song. Nearly fully formed as the song we know today, the most famous sixty-seven notes never changed from the first time they hit the page. These emotion-filled lyrics touched hearts during America’s first year in World War II, nostalgic for better and happier times.“Hollywood Celebrates the Holidays” by Karie Bible and Mary Mallory is now available at Amazon and at local bookstores.

The song evolved out of a planned revue Berlin hoped to stage after returning to New York City from Hollywood in 1938, where he crafted many wonderful tunes for such films as Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers’ musicals. He fooled around with the idea before composing “The Music Box Revue of 1938,” complete with show tunes, vaudeville sketches, and stunts, including topical songs on contemporary newsmakers. Berlin later retitled the show, “The Crystal Ball,” intended to be a three-act “Revue to today, tomorrow and yesterday,” which included “White Christmas” among its proposed songs in his trunk of tricks, intended as an ironic novelty song and showstopper.

Inspired by his time in sunny and warm Beverly Hills and Los Angeles around Christmas, the tune featured a sardonic introductory verse that opens,

“The orange and palm trees sway.

There’s never been such a day

In Beverly Hills, LA.”

The song’s narrator misses the season’s warmth and homey ambiance of a snowy East Coast. When Bing Crosby’s recording became a massive hit, Berlin ordered the first sixteen bars expunged less its jaunty and ironic opening mar the hushed anthem sung by Crosby.

This opening chorus was perhaps also influenced by the composer feeling homesick at Christmas 1937 when he found himself stuck in Hollywood working on “Alexander’s Ragtime Band.” His friend Twentieth Century-Fox head Joseph Schenck arranged for a three-minute film short entitled “ ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas” to be created showing his family around their Christmas tree, as a holiday greeting for the lonely Berlin on December 24. This memory remained etched in Berlin’s brain, a non-practicing Jew who would compose one of the most endearing Christmas songs of all time, transposing Jewish otherness into homogenized Americanness.

In April 1940, Berlin bumped into director Mark Sandrich in Washington, D. C., where he pitched his long gestating idea of a star singer retiring to run a country inn open only on holidays. Sandrich recognized the thin plot could be augmented with showstopping songs and dance numbers into something wildly entertaining. They negotiated for months before signing a deal to make “Holiday Inn” their next film.

Paramount brags about the success of “Holiday Inn” in Film Daily.

From the very beginning of filming, Berlin intended “White Christmas” to serve both as film centerpiece and backbone of the motion picture’s love story. While the other holiday tunes were designed as elaborate showstoppers, “White Christmas” remained a simple ballad, one that he obsessed over. Berlin inspired orchestrator Walter Scarf to design a lush, romantic arrangement. Scharf described the trauma of dealing working with Berlin as “It was as if he were going to have a baby when he was working on that song.” Many on the production recognized that the song seemed destined for hit status, but Bing Crosby could only mutter out of Berlin’s hearing, “I hope so,” per Rosen.

Paramount Studios realized that song trailers, what would now be music videos, would be perfect ways to promote the film and build word of mouth before it was released, per Variety in December 1, 1941. “White Christmas,” the strongest song, would be the first released to theatres in the spring before the movie’s release. I have not been able to discover whether these song trailers were actually produced and released.The tune did receive its first public performance by Bing Crosby on Kraft Music Hall’s Christmas Eve show in 1941 as a sneak preview promoting the upcoming “Holiday Inn,” per Rosen’s book.

After filming was completed, Crosby recorded a series of songs to be released in conjunction with the movie at Decca Records on May 29, 1942, including “White Christmas.” Crosby, the great emotional storyteller, brought a moving reverence to the lyrics which matched the delicate arrangement, capturing both the sweet romance and the heartfelt melancholy in its words. This would become the recording beloved by generations of Americans.

The Los Angeles Times’ review of “Holiday Inn” August 17, 1942 called it both propaganda and escapist, while director Sandwich called the film “inspirational,” noting how the audience came out of the theatre feeling happy to be American. He told the paper, “Holidays are a part of our history,…tied in with our mores, our way of life.”

Most reviews of the film stated that “White Christmas” was the strongest song of the bunch, but no one remarked on how powerful it was or predicted the huge success it would achieve thanks to it’s nostalgic yearning for joyful and hopeful times.

In an ironic note, “Holiday Inn” came out at a perfect time for the song to rocket to cultural phenomenon. Though the songs were written and recorded in early December, the film was not completed and released until summer of 1942. The Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor sending the United States into war brought yearning for the home front into deep focus once troops shipped overseas. Soldiers dreamed of white Christmases and family gatherings leading up to the 1942 holiday season, and began requesting it on Armed Forces Radio. Families back in the States dreamed of embracing their overseas loved ones at the holiday season. Radio Showmanship asked what Irving Berlin thought to himself before writing “White Christmas,” “What is every serviceman and every mother and every lonely war wife dreaming about as our first real war Christmas draws near?” The emotional perfect storm to create a major music sensation.

BBerlin pushed to make the entire “Holiday Inn” score a smash by unleashing his plugging staff at the Irving Berlin Music Company to promote the songs in “the greatest exploitation campaign , in connection with any musical, so far made,” per Rosen’s “White Christmas” book. They began with “Be Careful, It’s My Heart,” plugging it all the way to number two on the Hit Parade.

In September, without any help from plugging or play on the radio, “White Christmas” exploded in popularity, though Berlin had planned its huge promotion around the holiday season, not encouraging its sale until that time. On September 29, 1942, the song sold 12,000 pieces of sheet music that day, with 8,000 sheets sold the day before, outperforming by a mile any other film related sheet music in the marketplace. Sales snowballed.

By November, “White Christmas” sold more than 400,000 copies. In early November it sold 250,000 copies in one week. By November 11, sales hit 750,000, quickly zooming over a million. The song achieved the biggest sheet music sales in fifteen years by the middle of the month, thanks to stores keeping it on display rather than removing it to put holiday items on sale and display. Many smart exhibitors lined up promotional campaigns with local sheet music stores, plugging the movie through the song and earning huge returns for both.

On November 21 Crosby’s recording of the song hit the top of the charts, where it stayed for ten weeks, becoming one of the most popular songs on juke boxes as well. Over the next twenty years it would re-enter the survey every December except 1953, eventually spending thirty-eight weeks in the top spot and eighty six weeks total on the charts. Irving Berlin Music saw record profits in 1942 of $250,000, and more when the song became the title and hit of the 1954 film, “White Christmas.” Over 31 million copies of Crosby’s “White Christmas” were sold by early 2000, unseated as all-time top single in the “Guinness Book of World Records” by Elton John’s Princess Diana tribute recording of “Candle in the Wind” 1997.

“White Christmas” was ubiquitous by Christmas 1942, playing on juke boxes, appearing in stories in magazines and newspapers, employed as a tag line in advertising, even appearing in cartoons. It revived the slumping sheet music industry. Writer Carl Sandburg noted how lonely and sad the country was in a story on December 6, and described “White Christmas” as affecting everyone in the place where they love peace.

Paul W. Keston, Vice President and General Manager of CBS used the theme of “White Christmas” in his 1942 Christmas card, which he shared with Variety magazine. As he wrote, “The words of the song may seem trivial; they talk of little things. But I wonder if its sudden grip on America at war means something more…I like to think that the stranglehold of this ‘old-fashioned’ new hit is a sort of mass symbol of what American wants to believe. An instinctive way of saying, without making a speech, what kind of world we’re fighting for.”

“White Christmas” became almost a war anthem during World War II, uniting Americans in a sense of how lucky they were to live in such a prosperous, caring, and giving country. It invigorated people in a sense of hope about how simple things were more valuable than any financial riches.

The song “White Christmas” today remains as emotionally potent as ever, particularly as the world remains mired in sadness and despair over financial stagnation, abominable living conditions around the globe, and threats of violence from madmen.

The Ambassador Theater, as shown in the Exhibitors Herald, 1921.

On February 9, 1919, the Los Angeles Times reported that the California Hotel Company would soon begin construction on a luxurious hotel on twenty one acres adjoining Wilshire Boulevard between Catalina and Eighth Streets. This resort-like property would cater to the upper classes, with bungalows, ballroom, billiards, card rooms, swimming pool, and an arcade of shops catering to every whim of the wealthy clientele. Often overlooked in the hostelry’s many high-end amenities was the plush Ambassador Theatre, intended both as rental facility, host to conventions, and movie theatre.

D. M. Linnard, owner of the California Hotel Company, announced on April 4 that architect Myron Hunt had been employed to design something along classic Italian lines for the $5 million project. The proposed design showed buildings in a giant H shape with a combined 1000 rooms between the main building and annexes. The proposed project also included tea house, casino, and a convention hall with pipe organ and stage. Construction began in June 1919 for the massive project after demolishing the former Ruben Schmidt farmhouse on the property. The hotel’s name changed from California to Ambassador in March 1920 as well.

“Hollywood Celebrates the Holidays” by Karie Bible and Mary Mallory is now available at Amazon and at local bookstores.

On June 27, 1920, the Los Angeles Times reported that architect Myron Hunt was designing a large movie theatre, garage, and servants’ quarters at the west end of the hotel to cost $250,000. Guests would enter the theatre through the west lobby, beyond the grill and arcade of stores. The up-to-date screening facility would include pipe organ, artistic lighting elements, and comfortable seating for 575-600 people. On October 9, 1920, Motion Picture News announced that Gore Brothers and Sol Lesser had signed a deal to operate the Ambassador Theatre, and negotiated an agreement with Associated First National for the theatre “to serve as a world premiere house for all First National attractions.”

Art Smith, supervising projectionist for the Gore Brothers, chose the projection equipment of two “S” Simplex projectors and a signal system in conjunction with the house lights installed between them. Each projector was ventilated through the roof as well for security and safety issues. A special electrical installation allowed control of spot and stereo optical lights as well as projectors. The projection booth consisted of three adjoining rooms: one with motor and generator, another with projectors, and the last a cutting room, thereby reducing a fire hazard. Special rewind machines and cabinets in the cutting rooms were installed making it a top of the line system.

Finishing preparations for the theatre took longer than anticipated, requiring that the Ambassador Theatre open February 5, 1921 rather than January 1, 1921, as did the glamorous Ambassador Hotel. Crews worked double shifts to make the February opening, which included wiring it to allow fanciful lighting effects in seven different colors and combinations. The elegant Theatre rivaled the beauty of the striking hotel, containing large, leather- upholstered overstuffed arm chairs set back from other rows and aisles. It would feature refrigerated air in the summer and heat in the winter.

On January 21, 1921, the Times stated that the sleek, Italian Renaissance-style theatre painted in dove gray would contain a lounging room with luxurious furnishings, stylish light fixtures, a twelve pipe organ, a moveable floor allowing grotto and mountain effects, an eighteen foot screen, and mural paintings on side walls highlighted by beams and draped in velvet, which would be pulled aside after the audience was seated, revealing the glamorous paintings beneath.

They hired S. Barret McCormick, formerly Toledo, Ohio’s Rivoli Theatre manager, to supervise and run the Theatre in December 1920, along with creating artistic prologues based on classical music to match the essence of the movie’s theme to kick off programming. The Ambassador Theatre would present the best moving pictures from all the studios in one week runs, with the December 1920 Motion Picture News stating, “It will be the releasing place for the great test pictures, and the Ambassador production is to be to the picture world what the Metropolitan is to the opera.” McCormick also called it the “National Art Theatre of the Screen,” per Exhibitors Herald.

Photos of an Ambassador Theatre prologue, Motion Picture News, 1921.

The theatre would host twice daily screenings with a matinee cost of 75 cents and evening screening with $2 admission, all seats reserved. very high as compared to regular prices. They hired top musicians, dancers, and acts to fill out the prologue portion of the program, accompanied by twelve piece orchestra. All up-to-date processes would be employed in providing audiences top-notch presentations. Motion Picture News claimed they were the only cinema located in a hotel but catering to outside audiences. The theatre would produce the Ambassador Weekly Magazine to highlight screenings, each with unique cover, and present preview screenings on Friday night.

Advertisements trumpeting the theatre employed the slogan “Toward the Ultimate” in describing their special programs featuring a musical prelude, stage prelude, prologue, and the film, along with a beautiful artistic booklet. As Motion Picture News stated, “The Ambassador Theatre will present each week the most noteworthy of screen productions, giving them in nearly every instance their world premiere several weeks before their presence in other cities…”

The Ambassador Theatre premiered February 5, 1921 with a screening of the Pola Negri film, “Passion” with an elaborate prologue designed by McCormick called “Clay,” featuring a thirty five member cast wearing contortionable masks by Alexander Hall in a show based on a poem by Omar. Choreographer Marion Morgan supervised and created symbolic dances to follow the avant garde sets. These featured bright, vivid trees against pitch black backgrounds. “Short and chic and bobbed hair” usherettes wearing stylish uniforms assisted patrons. Operators admitted to the newspaper that they expected to lose money, but hoped to cover costs of the entertainment and show.

The Ambassador Theatre screened Charlie Chaplin’s “The Kid” soon after, which brought out scalpers who corralled most of the tickets, selling out the venue a week in advance. While it was good for the theatre’s business, it was bad for the general public.

A prologue for “The Passion Flower,” Motion Picture News, 1921.

The Louis B. Mayer organization employed the Ambassador Theatre as one of two picture houses to host the premiere of his film, “The Woman in the House” on February 12. A few weeks later, Variety reported that the film played to only six people in one screening., calling the theatre a flop on February 25, stating that it appealed to only the high brow because of its location in the hotel, with a deluxe charge that millionaires didn’t want to pay and too high for middle class patrons. Management needed to think of something fast to maintain cash flow.

The Bakersfield Morning Echo reported on March 13, 1921 that management was now adding a series of one-act plays stated in conjunction with first-run films, replacing the more elaborate prologues. These would be staged by Frank Egan, formerly of Figueroa Street’s Little Theatre, in the style of Paris’ Grand Guignol. The “Ambassador Players” consisting mostly of film stars would act in these productions seeing as curtain raiser before the intermission, overture, and screening of the film.

Egan premiered “Fancy Free” as the first stage play, starring film actors Crane Wilbur, Mary McLaren, and Kathleen Clifford. Later one-acts featured cinema players Helen Jerome Eddy and Gaston Glass.

On September 10, 1921, Arthur L. Bernstein, formerly manager of the Fanchon and Marco Revue took over operations, devising ways to bring in revenue. During the daytime dark hours for the theatre, social and charity groups employed the space for meetings and special occasions. Mary Miles Minter performed in support of disabled ex-servicemen April 27, 1921 in support of the Assistance League’s efforts to help veterans. The Assistance League took over the theatre each Wednesday in support of a different charity.

The Ambassador Hotel now has a movie theater, Motion Picture News, 1921.

While changing up programming helped for a time, management was forced to consider changes in scheduling by 1922. It began renting out the facility to other groups for meetings and presentations in order to help pay the bills. The newly formed Wilshire Boulevard Congregational Church began holding services January 1, 1922 while they raised funds to locate a permanent location.

In the March 15, 1922 Los Angeles Times, the Ambassador Theatre noted that the week of March 22 they would become “the National Preview Theatre of the Screen,” showing previews three nights a week at 8:15 pm with opinion cards distributed to audience members. Regular screenings on other nights and Saturday’s all comedy night would continue. Such major attractions as the “Merry-Go-Round,” Jackie Coogan’s “Oliver Twist,” “The Lost World,” and others screened during the silent era.

On September 27, the Ambassador hosted the world premiere of the stereoscope film “The Power of Love” employing the Fairall Process using “eye screens” for film executives, exhibitors, directors, cinematographers, projectionists, optometrists, and scientists. “The Greatest Menace,” a film delving into the evils of drug use, premiered February 23, 1923.

Uncle John and the stars of KHJ (The Times radio station) are mobbed at Ambassador Auditorium, Sept. 8, 1925, Los Angeles Times.

By the 1930s, the Ambassador Theatre functioned more as a trade and press screening location, hosting screenings for journalists who needed to submit reviews to their magazines and newspapers. Colleen Moore’s film “Smilin’ Through” played in 1929, followed through the years by such films as “Pinocchio,” “This Gun For Hire,” “Pride of the Yankees,” in which many of the press shed tears at the screening, “Random Harvest,” “For Whom the Bell Tolls,” and “Anchors Aweigh.” “Citizen Kane” previews the week of April 10, 1941 at the Ambassador, with Terry Ramsaye calling it “a magnificent sleigh-ride” of a picture.”

Over the next several decades, social, charity, nonprofit, and community groups such as the Daughters of the American Revolution, Confederation of Women’s Clubs, California Women of the Golden West, Matinee Music Club, Opera Reading Club, and Assistance League held meetings and presentations, while groups like the Nine O’Clock Players and Hollywood Opera Company presented recitals, concerts, and the like. Groups hosted lectures and food demonstrations in the theatre, and such organizations as radio, optometrists, exhibitors, and even morticians presented conventions.

By 1954, no more advertising appeared in the Los Angeles Times and the theatre appears to have shuttered, with entertainment focusing on the Cocoanut Grove.

The Los Angeles Unified School District took over the former Ambassador Hotel property to eventually construct schools in the 2000s, demolishing the buildings rather than remodeling and renovating them for a repurpose. While the Ambassador Theatre is no more, it operated as a high class, sleek screening facility during the hotel’s glamorous heyday of the 1920s through 1940s.

William Hoover, left, doubled for Edward Arnold, Silver Screen, August 1939.

Since 1927, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences has recognized best acting performances in motion pictures by male and female stars. They began recognizing best supporting performances in 1936. Directors, writers, cinematographers, costume designers, and production designers are also honored, not only by the Academy but by each of their individual guilds, and now by critics’ groups, festivals, and even by the people.

Long forgotten by the industry and even audiences, stand-ins fought to be recognized for their own contributions to the creation of motion pictures. For a short time in the 1940s, this little acknowledged group handed out their own awards. Instead of being able to say, “I’d like to thank the Academy,” they could thank the stars for whom they tolled under hot lights and conditions.

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Victor Chatten, was the stand-in for Lew Ayres, Silver Screen, August 1939.

The use of stand-ins, replacing someone else in something onerous or dangerous, dates to the mid-teens when doubles or stand-ins replaced actors during difficult stunts in serials. Tony Slide in his book “Hollywood Unknowns” states that the earliest documented use of a stand-in dates to 1914, when D. W. Griffith substituted Claire Anderson for the ailing Blanche Sweet (she was suffering from scarlet fever) in some of the scenes for his film “The Escape.”

He also claims that the traditional use of stand-ins originated in the 1920s with the sometimes temperamental actress Pola Negri during her days at Paramount. Brought to America by the studio in 1923, Negri disliked waiting around the set when not working and suggested that a mannequin or dummy replace her during this time.

As early 1928, Screenland magazine mentions Betty Danko, Corinne Griffith’s stand-in for “The Divine Lady,” calling stand-ins a recent addition to filmmaking. The practice began to catch on, and studios hired lookalikes to replace the actors while directors and camera crews adjusted the lights, arranged staging, and set up for shooting.

Peter Lorre and Errol Flynn and their doubles, Modern Screen.

Articles began appearing in fan magazines about the profession, calling it perhaps an opportunity to break into the business, as readers inquired about the practice. Many of these stories included photos of stars with their stand-ins; some could be dead ringers for those they doubled, while others merely possessed the same height, body build, and hair color of their doppelganger. Some of the players became bosom buddies with their bosses, while others merely hobnobbed on the set.

Most stand-ins never achieved fame on their own, and worked rarely outside of this profession. Some, however, did go on to gain success. During silent days, many believe Buck Jones acted as stand-in and valet for star William Farnum, though the two possessed entirely different body types. Dashing Don Alvarado appears to have stepped-in for superstar Rudolph Valentino. Later in the 1930s, a young Ann Dvorak worked as Joan Crawford’s stand-in at MGM. Actress Julie Hayden stood-in for Ann Harding at RKO.

Jeanette Rudy, left, was the stand-in for Martha Raye, Silver Screen.

Some who had been famous during early filmmaking fell back to stand-in work later in their careers. Variety noted that cowboy star Lane Chandler worked as Gary Cooper’s stand-in for Hollywood shooting of “The Plainsman.” Little Carmen La Rue served as Dolores Del Rio’s stand-in. Baby Marie Osborne, star of Balboa Pictures, worked as Ginger Rogers’ stand-in during the 1930s, and after a short return to working before the camera, became Deanna Durbin’s stand-in in the early 1940s.

In 1937, dancer Mary Dees was hired to double for the recently deceased Jean Harlow in order to complete her last film, “Saratoga.” While Dees did possess a similar hair style and build to that of Harlow, it was still obvious that the actress seen only from the back in later scenes was not Harlow.

The use of the word “stand-in” began appearing in popular culture, with silent actor Charles Ray penning a short story in 1935 called “Stand-In,” which also later served as the title of a 1937 film starring Leslie Howard, Humphrey Bogart, and Joan Blondell, in which a New York banker learns all about the motion picture industry from a stand-in. The film “It Happened in Hollywood” featured a down-on-his-luck cowboy star (Richard Dix) who enjoys the companionship of his friends, the stand-ins. “Screen Snapshots” included a sequence about stand-ins at Columbia also in 1937.

George Raft, left, with stand-in Mack Grey, Photoplay, 1933.

By 1939, New York columnist Ed Sullivan wrote in Silver Screen magazine about the hard life of stand-ins, who only made money on the days they actually doubled for their stars, since they rarely appeared as extras in their own right. Thanks to the Screen Actors Guild, below-the-line talent pay had increased under the 1937 bargaining agreement, with extras earning up to $15 a day, while stand-ins received $23 a week or $6.50 a day.

Stand-ins attempted to form their own guild in 1939 to better their conditions when they organized the Hollywood Standin (sic) Players, Inc., before later changing its name to the Hollywood Stand-Ins Guild. By the 1940s, the Associated Stand-Ins of Hollywood represented the workers. They decided to honor their own with awards beginning in 1942.

Showman’s Trade Review reported March 14, 1942 that stand-ins “stood-in” for such stars as Gary Cooper, Randolph Scott, Marlene Dietrich, Ole Olsen, Chic Johnson, Hugh Herbertt, Leo Carrillo, Deanna Durbin, and others at the unusual “Hellzapoppin” premiere at the Hawaii Theatre, with many of the stand-ins appearing in public for the first time as their screen lookalike. They appeared after attending a Brown Derby banquet for presentation of “Elmers” “for the “best stand-in performances” of the year to Sally Wood, stand-in for Marlene Dietrich, and to Frankie Van, stand-in for Hugh Herbert.” Following the banquet, the guests were chauffeured in limousines with footmen to the Hawaii Theatre, where they were greeted by photographers.

Joan Blondell, center, with her stand-in, Jean Blair, left, and Iris Lancaster, a stand-in for Joan Crawford, Photoplay, 1933.

The article does not mention how the winners were selected for best stand-in, if they went beyond the call of typical duties, or performed some special service. At least for once they were recognized for the hard work they endured in finishing motion pictures.

On March 15, 1944, Variety announced the winners of the “Elmers” awarded by Associated Stand-Ins of Hollywood the night before: Jack Parker, Randolph Scott’s stand-in for “Gung-Ho” received the award for best male stand-in, while Sally Wood won the best female stand-in award for her work replacing Susanna Foster in “This Is the Life.” No mentions of the Elmers appear again in the trade papers, suggesting the award ceremony disappeared.

There is no exact explanation for where stand-ins acquired the name “Elmer” for their awards. There is one possibility. The term possibly arose from the New York World’s Fair publicity department hiring a typical American friendly greeter. As the Motion Picture Herald stated in its June 29, 1940 issue, “Elmer” was the hypothetical typical American, hail fellow, genial, a sucker for sentiment, fond of popcorn, and with a merry “Hello, Folks,” for everybody.” Mr. Leslie Ostrander, a professional model from Brooklyn, served as their first “Elmer.”

In the 1970s, Amateur Radio began presenting Elmers to those they considered mentors or supporters of would-be ham operators, after the term was first used in a March 1971 article in QST. Elmer is an appropriate name for those who support and serve others, often receiving no great thanks or remuneration in return.

While the Academy Awards remain the motion picture industry’s preeminent award for excellence, the lowly Elmers are long gone and forgotten, though they also rewarded quality work by those who merely stood around and waited.