LIIThe manuscript skips LI.

Clara Kimball Young, Vitagraph's most popular star, had quit the Vitagraph for the World Film Corporation. It was reported that they were paying her an exhorbitant salary, and had signed her for six pictures.

The power behind the World Film had Peerless Companies, whose new studios were in Fort Lee, was Jules Brulatour, the most distinguished looking man in the motion picture industry. Clara's first World Film picture was Trilby. Her director, Maurice Tourneur. But from what I heard, husband Jimmy Young had a lot to say about Clara, and was not going to let her do another picture with enigmatic Maurice. Her next production was to be directed under the supervision of Jimmy Young, seeing that he could not direct it personally—he was scheduled to start another picture at the same time. But being a resourceful man, he decided to have his sets built next to Clara's, so that he would be near enough to supervise without having to move.

I had hiked over to see Jimmy and Clara with Black Orchids and Yellow and White under my arm. Black Orchids did not suit Clara because she wanted her audiences to love her. But she liked Yellow and White, and I agreed to modify the story to suit Jimmy.

Jimmy talked business with me, and we came to terms at $200. a week for me. For this salary I was to direct Clara in Yellow and White, and, on Clara's insistance, play the part of the artist I had written for Nick the Dimebender. I shied at this because I could not see what I was doing or what anyone else was doing from the camera angle if I was in the scenes myself. Jimmy magnanimously volunteered to see the final rehearsal of all scenes with Clara and me in them, and so I agreed. We got Warner Oland for the Chinese heavy and Nick the Dimebender for his hatchet man.

We started in a hurry, and efficient Milton Hoffman, the studio manager, did not have time to draw up any contract before we began shooting. I told him Jimmy and I had come to terms on the story for $500., and I would like the money right away.

"First I've heard about it," said efficient Milton.

I went to Jimmy and he ran his fingers through his hair.

"Goodness me, old man, I completely forgot to bring it up", he said with a very pained expression.

"That's all right, Jimmy," I said. "Come over to Milton's office with me now."

"Listen, dear old man," said Jimmy, raising his arm as though he were addressing the citizens of Rome, "let me have a talk with Brulatour first. To tell you the truth, Hoffman and I had a little run-in yesterday, and it's better to let the matter go through Brulatour. But you don't have to worry, you can absolutely count on me."

The grip of his hand was effusive and reassuring. I got to work at once. In my Chinatown wanderings I had met a little Chinese actor named Charlie Fang. I got him to work on the sets with me, and hunt up all the types and props we needed to get a realistic atmosphere in every scene. A small studio and Warner Oland's Chinatown bedroom were the first two sets. Both had plenty of atmosphere. At lunch time, I surprised Jimmy on the bedroom set the day I finished dressing it. He turned to me with tears in his eyes.

"Wonderful...wonderful," he said.

"You like the set, Jimmy?" I asked.

"The orient...the orient," said Jimmy. "Wonderful ...wonderful...You can't imagine. You must come up to my apartment on Riverside Drive and I will show you some Japanese elephants I bought in Singapore cut out of a solid piece of ivory."

And he walked away.

I sent for Benton again. Clara's portrait had to be painted. But this time I talked cold turkey to him.

"Listen," I said. "Every time there's a painting job to be done I shove it your way, and I've only one lousy little picture of yours. If you want this job you're bloody well going to give me a picture."

"Give me the job," said Benton, "and I'll paint your bloody portrait as big as life, by God—if you buy the canvas."

As the portrait of Clara had to appear by stages it could not be finished at once, so Benton got $75. for it, plus $5. every day he had to wait around. After about a week's work I asked Jimmy if he had seen Jules Brulatour. He said no. Brulatour had not been to the studio. Jimly was directing a hilarious scene from a Broadway farce, Overnight. He appeared to be in a very gloomy mood and answered me morosely. I was puzzled, but did not press him. The next day efficient Milton Hoffman told me Mr. Young wanted all the closeups of Clara made over with flat lighting. I had gone to a lot of trouble with the cameraman to get some modeling into these closeups, and they looked pretty good to me. But I did not argue.

When we ran the retakes efficient Milton said to me:

"Mr. Young wants you to work tonight. You're behind schedule."

"I am not," I said. "But it's all right with me."

I found out why that evening. Jimmy was the one behind schedule, not me. And he did not want to let Clara out of his sight. About midnight Clara and I were playing a love scene. Perhaps I held her closer and longer in my arms than the scene required anyway, before it was finished her love-smile gave place to a snoopersensitive side glance and she drew away from me. Surmising something was wrong I turned my back to the cameraman and called for him to fade out. Clara stamped her foot and walked over to the property room. Behind the wire netting that separated the property room from the stages, Jimny was squeezed in between a wardrobe and a grandfather clock. Clara stood watching him with her hands on her hips. The rest of the company stood at a distance. Jimmy weakened first and withdrew into the shadows.

"Never saw a guy as jealous as Jimmy," said the cameraman to me. "But the funny thing is, he's always jealous of the wrong guy."

* * * *

When I came on my set next morning a big sign was laying on the table; STRIKE, which meant the set was finished and could be struck. Seeing I had another sequence to shoot in it, I was puzzled. I was asking my assistant if he put the strike sign there when our office boy came up and said Mr. Hoffman wanted to see me right away. When I went to his office Jimmy Young was there. He was wearing his 'I've come to bury Caesar' expression. It was so painful that I almost felt sorry for him, though I suspected he had been up to something funny when he walked out without speaking to me.

"Rex," said efficient Milton, "we're not going any further with Yellow and White." He handed me a check for $200. "I'm paying you up to tomorrow night, Saturday," he added magnanimously.

"Why?" I said.

"Jimmy Young is not satisfied with the rushes," he said. "He has agreed to charge what's been spent on Yellow and White to date to his own production, Overnight."

"And what about me?" I asked.

"That's how we stand," said efficient Milton. "Personally, I'm very glad. I never liked the story. Jimmy's taken entire responsibility, so that lets me out."

"I would like to cut the three sequences I've made," I said, "and show them to Mr. Brulatour."

"Won't do any good," he said. "Jimmy has the last word as far as Clara is concerned."

"Well, for my own satisfaction, I'd like to cut them," I said.

"You can do it if you like," he said, "but I'll have to charge you for the use of the cutting room and the projection machine."

"That's a good idea," I said. "It won't break me, and you'll be able to start another picture with the dough."

"Don't be funny," he said.

"I certainly don't feel funny," I said. "Very sad, on the contrary."