Dec. 31, 1941: Celebrate New Year’s Eve at the Hollywood Palladium with Tommy Dorsey, Buddy Rich AND Frank Sinatra … plus Connie Haines and the Pied Pipers.

John P. Varnum has a cute little racket. He pretends to be a Navy commander and visits the homes of Pearl Harbor victims, claims to have known the men and asks for money to get to San Pedro, where he can get his paycheck.

Astronomer Edwin P. Hubble says that after a six-year study, evidence does not support what we now call the Big Bang theory, according to the Associated Press. “The universe probably is not exploding but is a quiet, peaceful place and possibly just about infinite in size.”

I’m really puzzled by this story.  Sources today credit Hubble with the Big Bang theory, so I’m not sure whether it was still evolving at this point or whether the AP writer didn’t understand Hubble’s presentation. Can the Brain Trust shed any light on this matter?

Jimmie Fidler says: George Montgomery’s deferment may be canceled by his Montana draft board. He claimed support of his family….  I never knew a man who could ask more pertinent questions that Eddie Albert or who paid closer attention to the answers.

Photo: Mary Pickford in the 1933 Rose Parade. Credit: Courtesy of Mary Mallory

Tomorrow sees the 124th annual Tournament of Roses Parade in Pasadena,  welcoming the new year with magnificent garlands of fresh flowers. It also acts as the 80th anniversary of Mary Pickford serving as the first female grand marshal of the parade.

Begun by the Valley Hunt Club in 1890, the Rose Parade saluted the area’s wonderful weather and flowering paradise.Soon, the Tournament of Roses Assn. took over what they now call “America’s New Year Celebration, greeting the world on the first day of the year… .”

Photo: A Rose Parade float. Credit: Courtesy of Mary Mallory.

Club presidents chose honorary grand marshals to fit the theme of each year’s parade, usually either past presidents or important civic, cultural and military leaders. This process helped promote the theme, lent prestige and honor to the festivities, and helped publicize the event.

California Gov. James Rolph acted as grand marshal in 1930, retired Maj. Gen. Charles Stewart Farnsworth, an Altadena resident, led the 1931 parade, and William May Garland, president of the 10^th Olympiad Committee, organizing the 1932 Los Angeles Olympics, served as grand marshal in 1932.

The organizing committee bucked precedent in the winter of 1932 by selecting actress Mary Pickford as the grand marshal for the 1933 Rose Parade, the first woman so honored. The Nov. 30, 1932, Los Angeles Times displayed a photo of Pickford receiving an engraved scroll from Dorothy Edwards, the 1933 tournament queen, as her official formal invitation. Pickford’s honor caused a small uproar among those upset that the organization should honor a woman over a man.

“Although the selection of a woman as grand marshal created somewhat of a sensation due to breaking a precedent of more than two score years’ standing, the choice was characterized as especially fitting. The fairyland theme of the pageant has a youthful quality, a quality that ‘Our Mary’ symbolizes on the screen,” as pointed out by a Tournament official to The Times. The designated theme for 1933 saluted “A Book of Fairy Tales in Flowers,” with the parade occurring Monday, Jan. 2, because Jan. 1 fell on a Sunday.

The Dec. 27 edition of the paper noted that Pickford would occupy a coach drawn by four pure-white horses, and decorated with lavender and shell-pink sweet peas, China lilies, and 5,000 pink roses. She would wear a green orchid satin court gown, over which she would wear an early 1870s period coat made of white velvet with matching jacket, muff and hat.

Her guests for the parade included her husband, actor Douglas Fairbanks, as well as Douglas Fairbanks Jr. and Joan Crawford, Mr. and Mrs. Leslie Howard, Mr. and Mrs. Frank Borzage, Gary Cooper, Countess Dorothy Di Frasso, Elsa Maxwell, and her niece, Gwynne Pickford.

The Jan. 3 Los Angeles Times reported that 15,000 rose blossoms trimmed the carriage, and marveled at how the largest parade crowd in history strained forward to see Mary, the most popular entry. The article also noted how beautiful Pickford appeared, and quoted a female spectator as saying, “Is she always going to be this way?”

Mary’s happiness was extremely short-lived however, with her brother Jack entering the American Hospital in Paris on the same day as the parade, and dying on Jan. 3, 1933. He was only 36 years old.

Dec. 4, 1923: Los Angeles celebrates Mary Pickford Day with an appearance by the silent screen star, her mother, Charlotte, and her husband,  Douglas Fairbanks, before a crowd of fans (mostly women, The Times noted) at Pershing Square.

Speaking to the crowd without amplification, Pickford could hardly be heard by the crowd, but The Times reported that she devoted her address to the problem of the throngs of aspiring actors and actresses hoping to storm the gates of the movie studios.

The Times said: “It seems that the Chamber of Commerce statistics show that some 10,000 young men and women, less than legal age, come to this city every month to seek jobs in pictures, and of course only a small part of them have any talents or, if so, have the good fortune in the struggle to find places, for the directors are deluged with applications.”

Pickford didn’t discourage young people from seeking stardom, but she warned that they should expect to work for five years before attaining stardom and if they failed, be prepared for another line of work.

“The girls should be accompanied by their mothers,” Pickford warned, a strong rebuttal to the notion that at some point Hollywood “lost its innocence.” Hollywood never had any innocence to lose.

ps: Build a home in Inglewood, which boasted that it kept out people of color!

Note: Mary Mallory is taking this week off, so I’m running a post from several years ago.

Los Angeles in 1923 was a bustling, growing, optimistic place.  The town recognized all sorts of interesting people and topics, saluting them with their own days.  There were Raisin Day, Prune Day, Father-and-Son Day, Fireless Cooker Day, and many others that year.  Dec. 3, 1923 was Mary Pickford Day, which unfortunately coincided with Golden Rule Day.  Per the Dec. 4, 1923,  Los Angeles Times, only a few Golden Rule observations occurred.

One of the largest crowds ever, from 15,000 to 50,000 people crowded Pershing Square to see Los Angeles Mayor Cryer, R. W. Pridham, vice president of the Chamber of Commerce, and Frank Wiggins, secretary of the Chamber, honor Miss Pickford.  Attending with her were her husband, Douglas Fairbanks, her mother, Charlotte Pickford, and her niece, Gwynne Pickford.  A jazz band offered music, and Disabled Veterans of World War I sent a color guard.  The mayor made a speech saluting the actress, calling her “Our Mary,” and “Queen of the Queens of the Movies.”  Douglas Fairbanks told the crowd, “This is Mary Pickford Day to you but for me every day is Mary Pickford Day.”

Pickford tried to use a megaphone when giving her speech, but few heard her words.  She warned against too many film aspirants flocking to Los Angeles.  She stated that “…I would ask the boys and girls who go to the studios to be prepared to work for five years, if necessary, before reaching stardom, and that if they should fail, to be prepared to take up some other career.”  She also felt girls should be accompanied by their mothers.

Chamber of Commerce records estimated that “10,000 young men and women, less than legal age, come to this city every month to seek jobs in pictures, and of course only a small part of them have any talents, or, if so, have the good fortune in the struggle to find places, for the directors are deluged with applications.”

Pickford also regretted that city officials and motion picture industry executives did not better understand each other and work together, a state which still somewhat exists to this day.  If both worked together, they would create more jobs, and make filming in the city an easier proposition for producers.  This would help boost employment, as well as revenues for all types of businesses large and small throughout the city.

Note: Mary Mallory is taking this week off, so I’m running a post from several years ago.

Los Angeles in 1923 was a bustling, growing, optimistic place.  The town recognized all sorts of interesting people and topics, saluting them with their own days.  There were Raisin Day, Prune Day, Father-and-Son Day, Fireless Cooker Day, and many others that year.  Dec. 3, 1923 was Mary Pickford Day, which unfortunately coincided with Golden Rule Day.  Per the Dec. 4, 1923,  Los Angeles Times, only a few Golden Rule observations occurred.

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

One of the largest crowds ever, from 15,000 to 50,000 people crowded Pershing Square to see Los Angeles Mayor Cryer, R. W. Pridham, vice president of the Chamber of Commerce, and Frank Wiggins, secretary of the Chamber, honor Miss Pickford.  Attending with her were her husband, Douglas Fairbanks, her mother, Charlotte Pickford, and her niece, Gwynne Pickford.  A jazz band offered music, and Disabled Veterans of World War I sent a color guard.  The mayor made a speech saluting the actress, calling her “Our Mary,” and “Queen of the Queens of the Movies.”  Douglas Fairbanks told the crowd, “This is Mary Pickford Day to you but for me every day is Mary Pickford Day.”

Pickford tried to use a megaphone when giving her speech, but few heard her words.  She warned against too many film aspirants flocking to Los Angeles.  She stated that “…I would ask the boys and girls who go to the studios to be prepared to work for five years, if necessary, before reaching stardom, and that if they should fail, to be prepared to take up some other career.”  She also felt girls should be accompanied by their mothers.

Chamber of Commerce records estimated that “10,000 young men and women, less than legal age, come to this city every month to seek jobs in pictures, and of course only a small part of them have any talents, or, if so, have the good fortune in the struggle to find places, for the directors are deluged with applications.”

Pickford also regretted that city officials and motion picture industry executives did not better understand each other and work together, a state which still somewhat exists to this day.  If both worked together, they would create more jobs, and make filming in the city an easier proposition for producers.  This would help boost employment, as well as revenues for all types of businesses large and small throughout the city.

The opening of “King of Kings at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre. Photo courtesy of Bruce Torrence.

Still ready for its close-up, the TCL Chinese Theatre, originally Grauman’s Chinese Theatre, turns 90 on May 18, looking as glamorous and exotic as when it premiered on Hollywood Boulevard in 1927. Under construction for almost 16 months, the Chinese Theatre stands as perhaps legendary theatre impresario Sid Grauman’s ultimate masterpiece, a fabulous moving picture palace that outshines virtually anything produced by the Hollywood studio system.

While not the first film theatre devised and built by visionary Grauman, the Chinese Theatre represents the pinnacle of motion picture theatre construction, an atmospheric pleasure dome for the senses which still overwhelms with its unique beauty. Opening just two years before the start of the Great Depression, the theatre stands as a fascinating concoction of hallucinatory dream and kitsch, the ultimate symbol of success for those hoping to make it in motion picture business. Like the Hollywood Sign, the theatre acts as an iconic symbol for the city in which it was created, drawing people from around the globe hoping to soak up just a tiny bit of its special stardust.

Hollywood at Play, by Donovan Brandt, Mary Mallory and Stephen X. Sylvester is now on sale.

Sid Grauman, Charlie Chaplin, Norma Talmadge, Conrad Nagel and Anna Mae Wong were among the celebrities at the groundbreaking for the Chinese Theatre. Photo courtesy of Bruce Torrence.

The Chinese Theatre sprang out of the imagination of inquisitive Sid Grauman. Born in Indianapolis, Indiana March 17, 1879, Grauman and his family immigrated westward in search of fame and fortune in entertainment. Ending up in Dawson City, Alaska during the 1890s gold strike, the Graumans survived by providing shows to lonely miners before making it to San Francisco and opening small theatres before the Great Earthquake of 1906 destroyed them. Quick on his feet, Sid located a moving picture projector and began showing films in a tent. The family quickly prospered and acquired several film theatres around the area before Sid decided to seek his fortune in the western motion picture capital, Los Angeles.

Obtaining finance through partnering with Famous Players-Lasky, who purchased the family’s San Francisco chain of theatres, the Graumans purchased the Rialto and constructed their first elaborate moving picture theatre in downtown Los Angeles in 1918, the Million Dollar. Sid introduced what became to be his calling card, the world famous “Prologues,” which combined dance, singing, and showmanship to provide a thematic introduction to the films. Over the next nine years, Grauman would go on to open other elaborate theatres, including the Metropolitan and his first Hollywood showplace, the Egyptian Theatre, the site of his first grand Hollywood premieres.

An early postcard of the Chinese Theatre.

By 1924, Grauman had sold his interest in the downtown theatres to Famous Players-Lasky and concentrated his full attention in Hollywood, running the Egyptian and conceiving of new schemes before selling out the Egyptian to West Coast Theatres but continuing management. The January, 22, 1924 Hollywood Daily Citizen reported that Grauman had relinquished control of the downtown theatres and planned to open two new elaborate theatres in Los Angeles and one in Long Beach to realize long time dreams “to compete with any cinema palace in the country.” Grauman departed for a long European vacation to visit theatres.

His long percolating idea began taking shape that fall. The September 23, 1924 Exhibitors Trade Review stated that master showman Grauman intended to construct a 2,500 seat theatre in Los Angeles. On November 2 in Chicago, he announced plans to construct a new Hollywood theatre to cost approximately $2 million. Thanks to the help of renowned Hollywood real estate man C. E. Toberman, Grauman had obtained property at 6925 Hollywood Blvd. between Sycamore and Orange, and obtained a demolition permit on July 19, 1924 to remove the L. C. Jones residence, which has also been purported to be the residence of Francis X. Bushman.

For the next year, Grauman bided his time, lining up financing and working with architect Raymond Kennedy of Meyer and Holler to devise a fantastical design. Meyer and Holler had designed the gorgeous Egyptian, and logically worked on the Chinese as well. Main architect Kennedy focused on the more delicate Chippendale style of Chinese architecture, as well as more imaginative designs.

Sid Grauman, who followed the Million-Dollar Theatre in downtown Los Angeles with the Egyptian and then the Chinese.

As usual, financing and construction matters took longer than anticipated to transpire. Film Daily announced Grauman’s elaborate plans to document construction on September 6, 1925. Grandstands would be constructed to allow journalists and the public to observe concrete pouring for the foundation, with a jazz band and other divertissements providing entertainment.

On October 13, 1925, Film Daily reported the formation of Grauman’s Greater Hollywood Theatre Inc. in Sacramento under the partnership of Grauman, United Artists executive Joseph Schenck, and producer Sol Lesser with $1 million in financing. The November 21, 1925 Moving Picture World called forthcoming construction of the Chinese Theatre “to make the finest palace of entertainment on earth… .” To creatively get things going, steel for the theatre’s trusses was feted at the new McClintic Marshall Company plant in south Los Angeles on Armistice Day, with Grauman and Chinese American actress Anna May Wong posing for photographs.

By December, financing plans had been finalized, with ownership split evenly between Grauman, Schenck, and West Coast Theatres in the construction of the Class A Theatre for $900,000. The December 16, 1925 Variety reported that Banks, Huntley and Co. submitted a $450,000 bond issue for the theatre, with some reports stating that the theatre would cost into the millions of dollars.

The foyer of the Chinese Theatre.

Newspapers across the country splashed stories regarding the elaborate groundbreaking at 7 pm on Tuesday, January 5, 1926, with 10,000 people coming to watch. Master showman Grauman lined up MGM actor Conrad Nagel as master of ceremonies, with Chinese bands and acrobats and prologue dancers from the Egyptian Theatres’ “The Big Parade” to perform in an elaborately staged Oriental garden flooded by spotlights and decorated with Chinese lanterns and banners. Chinese tea, cakes, and candy were served, before the ringing of large gongs announced the ceremony’s beginning.

Anna May Wong once again participated, this time in support of actress Norma Talmadge, Schenck’s wife. Talmadge lifted the first spadeful of dirt with a golden shovel and then pulled a level of a giant steam shovel to start excavation work. Thousands of exploding Chinese firecrackers completed the ceremony. Celebrities such as Louis B. Mayer, Schenck, A. P. Giannini, Charlie Chaplin, William Farrell of the Los Angeles Chamber of Commerce, and Dr. Wong Fook of the Chinese community attended, per wire reports.

A detail of one of the murals in the theater.

The February 6, 1926 Moving Picture World described construction plans for the 2,500 seat theatre, with an Oriental garden planned for the forecourt, and forty foot tall walls protecting it. The 40’ x 140’ stage would be one of the largest in the world, surrounded by a 65 foot tall proscenium arch. Fanciful Chinese sculpture and design would decorate interiors. Ticket prices for the flamboyant theatre would range from $1.65 to $2.50 and include Grauman’s legendary prologue before the two a day screenings. United Artists would now operate the theatre, as part of an original idea between Grauman, Schenck, and Shubert Theatres to open a chain of 22 movie palaces across the country. The Chinese would play top end “run” pictures intended to play for weeks or even months.

Grauman pulled his first permit March 29, 1926 for the theatre, with estimates of 109 tons of reinforced steel and 7,400 bbls of cement required for construction. Additional permits were pulled on July 16, to increase the size of the orchestra pit, stage doors, and for other alterations. The June 7 Los Angeles Times estimated that 800 tons of steel would be required for construction. On March 25, 1927, Electrical Products Corporation pulled permits to erect two vertical electrical signs.

While the Chinese was under construction, Grauman and Schenck joined with Mary Pickford, Douglas Fairbanks, and others to finance the building of the Roosevelt Hotel across the street, intended to serve as the abode for stars participating in premiere or special events at the Chinese. The Roosevelt opened shortly before the theatre.

Director Cecil B. De Mille at the premiere of “King of Kings,” the film that opened the Chinese.

Construction deadlines evolved over time, with optimistic projections of opening in late 1926 continually pushed back until May 18, 1927. In October 1926, Liu Yu Clung, a renowned Chinese scholar, appeared to examine approximately 46 models of statuary planned as decoration, all constructed by the model shop on the property devised by Meyer and Holler in order to study lighting and effect work.

On February 12, director Cecil B. DeMille and Grauman signed an agreement for “King of Kings” to receive its West Coast premiere at the opening of the theatre as work moved madly forward to reach May completion. By March, Grauman was ensuring secrecy on decoration by posting guards and barriers to prevent people from seeing the facade until the grand opening.

On April 30, 1927, Sid Grauman hosted America’s Sweetheart Mary Pickford and dashing action hero Douglas Fairbanks in the first hand and footprint ceremony in the theatre’s forecourt, with photos sent by wire across country. Grauman announced that he hoped to obtain the prints of Hollywood’s major stars to decorate the theatre’s exterior before the theatre’s opening, but only Norma Talmadge’s ceremony beat the May 18 premiere.

Motion Picture News saluted Grauman on May 11, 1927 for the upcoming opening of the Chinese. They noted how Grauman was the first to recognize the importance of the organist in accompanying silent films, the first to introduce trousered usherettes, the first to use the overhead spot, creating the prologue, and the like.

Grauman’s Chinese was featured in Variety.

Hollywood businesses joined in to celebrate the Chinese Theatre’s opening. The May 13 Los Angeles Times noted that the Hollywood Chamber of Commerce and its Retail Merchants’ Bureau heartily joined in, hoping to promote their own businesses with a week long list of celebrations. Each agreed to decorate their own buildings, street lamps, electric poles, cafes, hotels, and the like in Chinese decoration, along with street parades, floats, night celebrations, bands, orchestras, and all street lights the length of Hollywood Boulevard in the main business district to be turned into Chinese lanterns for the week. A gigantic dragon more than several hundred feet long would also take part in the parade.

The Wednesday, May 18 ceremony sold out within two days of its announcement at $11 per ticket, one of the highest ever. It dazzled the thousands of people outside the theatre, 22,000 lining the sidewalks 10 deep. Huge spotlights crisscrossed the sky as stars arrived for the grand opening to walk the red carpet and be interviewed by radio. A veritable Who’s Who of Hollywood participated in the grand ceremonies, included the Chinese actor Sojin and San Francisco Mayor James Rolph.

A gorgeous color program promoted the theatre’s opening and the “King of Kings” premiere. Striking Oriental drawings decorated the pages, along with detailed and hyperbolic descriptions of the theatre. A pagoda like box office sat in the forecourt with bronze roof aged to the color of green jade to match that of the main theatre. Stone dragons and statues graced the exterior walls of the theatre, with the massive front doors flanked by gigantic red lacquer columns. The 2,200 seat auditorium “gives the impression of entering a gigantic shrine of the time of the Five Emperors…” and a giant chandelier in the form of a Chinese lantern hung in the massive lobby.

Mary Pickford waves from a biplane promoting Grauman’s Chinese Theatre.

The fireproof curtain was described as replicating twin doors of an immense lacquered cabinet, opening to a stage four times the size of the average Los Angeles theatre. Power and lighting for stage shows operated from its own power plant. Furnishings were provided by Barker Bros. Oriental shop, including cow horn lanterns. Per the May 11 Variety, “The decorating scheme of the house is a color symphony based on the dominating color of Chinese art, red, interpreted in ruby, crimson, pale scarlet and coral lacquer, with complementary hues to to provide contrasting values… .”

Before the prologue, director Fred Niblo introduced D. W. Griffith as master of ceremonies, who then introduced director Cecil B. DeMille to describe the film. MPPDA director Will Hays said a few words before introducing Mary Pickford, who rang a bell to announce the curtain and start the prologue, which was supposed to start at 8:30 pm, but started late to arrivals having difficulty wading through the crowds. 200 people participated in the “Glories of the Scriptures” prologue, accompanied by the Chinese 100 piece orchestra, and Pryce Dunlavy Jr. at the mighty Wurlitzer organ, performing the score created by Dr. Hugo Reisenfeld. The 24 minute prologue focused on events in the Old Testament and included a dance sequence by Theodore Kosloff and his dancers and 125 performers for the first scene alone.

In the August 13, 1933, Lee Side of L.A. column, the otherworldly nature of a Grauman house was described. “…When you enter a Grauman house, you know you are leaving the world of reality behind and entering the world of make believe.” Still a stupendous achievement in architecture and atmospheric design, Grauman’s Chinese still enthralls all who enter its doors in search of superior and wondrous motion picture entertainment.
Hollywood Heritage will host a 90th anniversary celebration of the Chinese Theatre on May 1. Tickets are $20 to $50.

Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks in “The Taming of the Shrew,” photo by K.O. Rahmn, from Close Up.

Probably the only actor/stills photographer in early Hollywood, K. O. (Knute Olaf) Rahmn worked for Kalem Co. at its Glendale studio for several years before becoming Mary Pickford’s personal photographer in 1918. A jack-of-all-trades for Pickford, Rahmn shot portraits, candids, scene stills, and even special events, perhaps serving as much to document Pickford’s life and career as to promote it, and serving to capture her vision of her career. In fact, he serves as one of the first stills photographers signed to exclusively lens one of Hollywood’s major superstars.

Born March 20, 1876 outside Schoenberg, Sweden, Rahmn immigrated to America on March 28, 1891, and set up his own photographic studio in Greenwich, Connecticut, per his 1919 Motion Picture Studio biographical listing. Rahmn served in the New York Infantry from June 27 to November 1, 1898 during the Spanish American war, but appears never to have left the United States.

Hollywood at Play, by Donovan Brandt, Mary Mallory and Stephen X. Sylvester is now on sale.

K.O. Rahmn, from Who’s Who in Film.

On June 3, 1901, Rahmn became a naturalized American citizen in New York City, living at 109 E. 96th Street. After becoming a United States citizen, Rahmn traveled home to Stockholm to visit family before returning via Liverpool, England to New York on November 8, 1903. The ship’s log calls him photographer.

For the next several years, Rahmn appears to work as a photographer before he is hired as a stills photographer by the Kalem Film Co. in 1909, per Anthony Slide in his American Silent Film Directory. Kalem gets their money’s worth from Rahmn, who serves as cameraman as well as actor. He comes west with the company in 1910 when they visit Glendale to shoot moving pictures, bringing his wife Rhoda.

Mary Pickford with puppies in a photo by K.O. Rahmn, listed on EBay at $475.

Rahmn appears to mostly have portrayed heavies and supporting roles during his time with Kalem, with entertainment trades like Moving Picture World. Some of the Kalem films in which Rahmn appears from 1912 through 1915 include “The Organ Grinder,” “Apache Renegade,” “Red Wing and Pale Face,” “Power of a Hymn,” “Days of ’19,” Tragedy of Big Eagle Mine,” and “Battle For Freedom.” In many of these westerns, Rahmn is listed as playing Indians, which must have been in red face, since his World War I draft record states he has light hair and blue eyes. In 1912, he travels to Florida with actress Gene Gaunthier and director Sidney Olcott, even shooting one film of a sinking boat out during a raging storm.

City directories list Rahmn as either actor or cameraman during the mid-teens, suggesting he was still performing both duties for Kalem at their Glendale Studio, keeping incredibly busy and possibly even shooting stills for the company. By 1918 or 1919, it appears Mary Pickford hires him as her personal stills photographer, but no trades contain a story. Rahmn appears to practice his photography, as Motion Picture magazine lists him as a member of the Cinema Camera Club in 1918. His biography in the 1919 Motion Picture Director lists his nickname as “Oppie” and states he has nine years of service with Kalem.

Mary Pickford in another pose with puppies, photographed by K.O. Rahmn, listed on EBay at $35.

Rahmn either owned a car or took the streetcar to the various studios. He is listed in 1916 as living as 5145 Meridian, 5257 York Blvd. in 1918, 1137 N. Westmoreland in 1920, 1921 in Burbank, and by 1922, Rahmn is living in the far north Los Angeles’ suburb of Sun Valley, moving to Sunland Avenue and eventually La Tuna Canyon, meaning he traveled a great distance during his commute. The 1920 Directory calls Rahmn “Mary Pickford Studio cameraman.”

In his job as the Pickford stills photographer, Rahmn took photos of all Pickford famlly members, including images of Jack Pickford and his wife Marilyn Miller posing with their new Spanish house, photos of Mary with Jack and her mother Charlotte, and even stills of Mary with her husband Douglas Fairbanks. Rahmn’s images reflect a somewhat impish sense of humor, as many show their subjects laughing or posing somewhat humorously. He also liked soft focus, giving photos a romantic look but also helping to camouflage Mary’s true age. In 1923, Rahmn took a series of holiday photos of Mary Pickford exclusively for the Los Angeles Times at Easter, July 4, Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas.

Mary Pickford in a Valentine’s Day photo by K.O. Rahmn, Photoplay, 1924.

The July 3, 1929 issue of Variety states that he and Charles Warrenton, Douglas Fairbanks’ personal photographer, earned the distinction of becoming the first stills photographers to use a sound booth to take photos. It reports that Fairbanks loved action stills which required the use of the noisy Graflex camera. To hide the sound, Fairbanks purchased the booth to allow the taking of stills for he and Pickford’s first talkie and their only co-starring film, “The Taming of the Shrew.” The article claims that Rahmn has served as Pickford’s personal photographer since 1918.

Rahmn shoots some of the final official stills for Pickford’s career as an actress on her 1933 film “Secrets.” He continues to photograph her appearances around town, hosting parties, and for special magazine stories. Rahmn’s last official listing in a Hollywood trade appears to be in 1935, when he was 59. Perhaps he retired at this time or images are not credited to him. Rahmn lived until July 23, 1957, when he was buried at the Veterans Administration Cemetery over in Westwood.

While Rahmn’s work does not appear as elegant, striking, or glamorous as such famous stillsmen as Albert Witzel, Frank Hoover, Nelson Evans, Ruth Harriet Louise, Henry Waxman, or Kenneth Alexander, to name a few, his work demonstrates a nice eye and gentle touch in framing Mary Pickford.

Above, a clip of “Restoring a Lost Silent Film: How to See “Rosita” by Dave Kehr from the Museum of Modern Art.

In 1922, legendary German film director Ernst Lubitsch and “America’s Sweetheart” Mary Pickford searched for new challenges in developing their careers. Lubitsch yearned to conquer America, the world’s leader in film production, proving he could create successful and moving pictures on both sides of the Atlantic. Pickford hungered to break free from the sweet young girl roles she successfully portrayed and play real women full of meat, passion, and power. “Rosita,” the story of a peasant gypsy singer who pines for a nobleman but instead gains the obsessed attentions of the lecherous king, brought them together.

In the late 1910s and early 1920s, the German film industry dominated the world’s screens with its artistry and technical wizardry, with such striking films as “The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari” (1920), “Destiny” (1921), “Nosferatu” (1922), and “Hamlet” (1921) displaying remarkable camerawork and skill. Director Lubitsch, king of German film directors, exhibited great versatility, turning out visually stunning epics as well as comic farces, including “Carmen” (1918), “The Doll” (1919), “Madame DuBarry” (1919), and “The Loves of Pharaoh” (1922).

Mary Mallory’s latest book, “Living With Grace: Life Lessons from America’s Princess,” will be released June 30.

Mary Pickford in “Rosita,” courtesy of the San Francisco Silent Film Festival.

Perhaps Pickford’s husband, Douglas Fairbanks, astute to motion picture industry trends and practices, informed his wife about Lubitsch and his stellar directing reputation, one offering new artistic possibilities to her. In October 1922, Pickford brought the director over to this country to direct her in a film, soon announcing that they would make “Faust.” Pickford would play not only a grownup character but one totally against type, with Lubitsch also suggesting impish Fairbanks as the devil. Pickford decided to postpone the film, and the two compromised by agreeing to shoot “Rosita,” based on the novel “Don Cesar de Bazan” by Adolphe Philippe Dennery and Philippe Francois Pinel.

The story focused on a poor Spanish peasant girl, singing for her supper, who loves an impoverished nobleman called Don Diego. Arrested for singing a tune lampooning the king, Don Diego attempts to rescue her, but the lustful king falls for Rosita and demands that Diego be shot. While the king attempts to bribe her with gifts, Rosita loves only Don Diego. Can Rosita save her love without marrying the king?

Mary Pickford and Ernst Lubitsch working on “Rosita.”

For the first time, Pickford agreed to follow direction rather than impose her vision on a director, unusual for a woman who dominated all aspects of production on her films. This was important, as Lubitsch maintained artistic and production control of his European films, and freedom would allow him to inject freshness into Pickford’s on-camera persona.

Pickford saw the film as a potential watershed moment in her career, with the opportunity to expand her range if the public allowed it. She told the February 18, 1923, Los Angeles Times, “I’m not an actress, I’m just a personality – a sort of an institution. That’s all the public will let me be.” The actress called Lubitsch “an artist without peer,” and stated she freely was putting herself in his hands, hoping for an artistic breakthrough.

Ernst Lubitsch, left, and Mary Pickford watch as Douglas Fairbanks clowns around as Mephisto in Motion Picture Magazine.

Production on “Rosita” began March 5, 1923. The trade Camera reported on March 17, 1923, that United Artists was negotiating with Maurice Chevalier, “the musical comedy rage of Paris,” as the romantic lead, which unfortunately fell apart. The magazine also reported that Pickford hoped that the film “will make a distant phase in her transition to the dramatic pinnacle to which she aspires.” For the first time, she dreamed of escaping little girl roles and playing complicated, passionate women in her first major costume drama.

Superstar Pickford also stated that “while the new story will be strongly dramatic, it will be sprinkled with natural spontaneous comedy, but with none of the made-to-order kind, created, to use studio vernacular, through the medium of ‘business.’ I intend to make this picture ‘handwork,’ not a factory-product…”

All involved took a hands-on approach to producing the film. Discussions ensued over casting, costume and production design, and script development, with Edward Knoblock adapting the story to the screen. The crew itself was a mini United Nations; Lubitsch hailed from Germany, Pickford from Canada and America, and production designer Sven Gade came from Denmark. More lavish sets and a cast of thousands announced the stupendous nature of the film, a great departure for the actress. While communication was sometimes difficult because of Lubitsch’s poor English, others made working conditions somewhat unpleasant by making xenophobic comments ridiculing the director for his accent.

Holbrook Blinn, left, as the king in “Rosita.”

Lubitsch worked with Knoblock to develop the story into a historical dramedy of operatic proportions, cutting subtitles to reveal as much of the story as possible through acting. He worked to ensure “action that spoke,” as he told the New York Times December 16, 1923. To achieve the right emotions, the director acted out what he wanted for in each scene, with director Robert Florey, a journalist at the time, remarking that his performing outshone the cast. Twelve assistants helped direct the extras around the 47 sets.

The most difficult aspect of the whole production of “Rosita” was two control freaks fighting for ultimate power over creation. Lubitsch ruled his productions with an iron fist, controlling hiring, production, and cutting. Pickford found it difficult to take a hands-off approach to the film, since as a star her vision dominated the production of all her movies. After disagreements and arguing Pickford acquiesced to the director, telling Lubitsch that in case of a production conflict, she as producer would weigh in with the final decision.

Pickford seemed pleased with the picture as the newly titled “The Street Singer” completed production on June 3, telling staff how happy she was with the final product, and even offering Lubitsch a contract to direct one film a year for three years. That summer, trades announced that “Rosita” would open in September at New York’s Lyric Theatre. Just two months before its premiere, however, newspapers announced that Pickford had re-cut the film, and dropped any idea of signing the director to a three year contract.

While Lubitsch never worked with Pickford again, he praised her in the press. He told Motion Picture magazine in June 1924 how much he enjoyed working with her, describing “Rosita” as a “charming and wonderful experience.” The director found Pickford remarkable and stated she followed his lead, but “…her alert and intelligent mind worked like forked lightning,” watching over everything.

George Walsh as Don Diego in “Rosita.”

“Rosita” brought high praise upon release, as well as criticism. Virtually every critic lavished laurels on Holbrook Blinn, playing the wily king. Exhibitors Trade Review described it as full of tension, and Mary Pickford’s “most pretentious production,” as well as her greatest film. Lubitsch’s direction sealed the film’s success, with his attention to detail, coherent story line, lush atmospheric lighting, and wonderful staging, which most felt outshone that of Herbert Brenon in “The Spanish Dancer.” Moving Picture World on September 5, 1923 called it “grand opera,” a romantic adventure, filled with “whimsical humor.” Picture Plays on the other hand called it “a grown up story for children.”

Many critics called it Pickford’s most stellar acting, bringing a saucy joie de vivre to the ill-mannered girl, convincingly playing a flirty young woman. Washington Evening Standard on December 24, 1923 claimed “that the make believe story becomes real under the spell of her art… .” An ad in the January 21, 1924, San Bernardino Sun ballyhooed that Pickford “enters into her rightful heritage of glorious, vital, alluring womanhood in her characterization of “Rosita.” Lithe and sinuous…capricious and coquettish, beguiling and intriguing, flirting, dissembling – a new Mary Pickford who will be the Idol of Men and Women.”

Pickford herself seemed pleased, telling the July 1924 Visual Education that “without the experience of feeling the emotion of a child’s heart, I could not possibly have played my first grown up part.” She felt more sensitive and expressive in her portrayal in “Rosita.”

A comparison of Mary Pickford and Pola Negri as street singers in Motion Picture Magazine.

Others compared her unfavorably to Pola Negri’s fiery, wild woman in “The Spanish Dancer,” a passionate, earthy woman compared to Pickford’s charming and dainty girl. The January 1924 Education Screen called Pickford a “pert gamine as opposed to the passionate, experienced woman Miss Negri makes of her gypsy.” Screen Opinions in 1923 stated, “Mary Pickford was either not sufficiently adapted to the role of Rosita, or then that the director’s conception of the part was at variance with that of the star, for her comedy is less spontaneous, and her emotional work less effective than in other productions in which she has scored success.” She was described as a better coquette than dancer. For many, Pickford acted the emotions rather than actually feeling them.

Motion Picture magazine’s June 1924 piece accurately captured filmgoer sentiment regarding the film and Pickford’s typical roles. They claimed that “ ‘Rosita’ was too far removed from Mary’s own ‘stuff.’” The Pickfords realize that, although Mary must inevitably resign herself to be ‘grownup,’ the public does not like her in European settings or high power emotional plays.”

While most critics praised the gorgeous production as more beautiful than “The Spanish Dancer,” small town exhibitors heaped scorn on the film. Exhibitors Herald ran several reviews from theatre owners across the country, most stating that the film failed to draw audiences to the box office. Some called it “too highbrow,” others “dumb.” Many claimed young people failed to come as they didn’t know who Mary Pickford was, that her drawing power was falling in their areas. Many described the high cost of rentals, tiredness with costume pictures, and they hoped for something new and fresh.

Compared to other Pickford productions, “Rosita” drooped at the box office. Perhaps for this reason, as well as the difficulties of letting go of control, Pickford later slammed the film, calling it terrible, and refused to see it preserved. Thanks to the Museum of Modern Art’s restoration, audiences at the upcoming San Francisco Silent Film Festival can see the legendary film “Rosita” for themselves Friday, June 1 at 4:15 pm, and make their own conclusions regarding the artistry of Pickford and Lubitsch in creating it.

Above, a clip of “Restoring a Lost Silent Film: How to See “Rosita” by Dave Kehr from the Museum of Modern Art.

This is an encore post from May.

In 1922, legendary German film director Ernst Lubitsch and “America’s Sweetheart” Mary Pickford searched for new challenges in developing their careers. Lubitsch yearned to conquer America, the world’s leader in film production, proving he could create successful and moving pictures on both sides of the Atlantic. Pickford hungered to break free from the sweet young girl roles she successfully portrayed and play real women full of meat, passion, and power. “Rosita,” the story of a peasant gypsy singer who pines for a nobleman but instead gains the obsessed attentions of the lecherous king, brought them together.

In the late 1910s and early 1920s, the German film industry dominated the world’s screens with its artistry and technical wizardry, with such striking films as “The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari” (1920), “Destiny” (1921), “Nosferatu” (1922), and “Hamlet” (1921) displaying remarkable camerawork and skill. Director Lubitsch, king of German film directors, exhibited great versatility, turning out visually stunning epics as well as comic farces, including “Carmen” (1918), “The Doll” (1919), “Madame DuBarry” (1919), and “The Loves of Pharaoh” (1922).

The Egyptian Theatre is presenting “Rosita” on Friday with a 30-piece orchestra conducted by composer Gillian Anderson, who has orchestrated the original score composed for the production. Tickets are $20 and $25 in advance, $30 at the door.

Mary Pickford in “Rosita,” courtesy of the San Francisco Silent Film Festival.

Perhaps Pickford’s husband, Douglas Fairbanks, astute to motion picture industry trends and practices, informed his wife about Lubitsch and his stellar directing reputation, one offering new artistic possibilities to her. In October 1922, Pickford brought the director over to this country to direct her in a film, soon announcing that they would make “Faust.” Pickford would play not only a grownup character but one totally against type, with Lubitsch also suggesting impish Fairbanks as the devil. Pickford decided to postpone the film, and the two compromised by agreeing to shoot “Rosita,” based on the novel “Don Cesar de Bazan” by Adolphe Philippe Dennery and Philippe Francois Pinel.

The story focused on a poor Spanish peasant girl, singing for her supper, who loves an impoverished nobleman called Don Diego. Arrested for singing a tune lampooning the king, Don Diego attempts to rescue her, but the lustful king falls for Rosita and demands that Diego be shot. While the king attempts to bribe her with gifts, Rosita loves only Don Diego. Can Rosita save her love without marrying the king?

Mary Pickford and Ernst Lubitsch working on “Rosita.”

For the first time, Pickford agreed to follow direction rather than impose her vision on a director, unusual for a woman who dominated all aspects of production on her films. This was important, as Lubitsch maintained artistic and production control of his European films, and freedom would allow him to inject freshness into Pickford’s on-camera persona.

Pickford saw the film as a potential watershed moment in her career, with the opportunity to expand her range if the public allowed it. She told the February 18, 1923, Los Angeles Times, “I’m not an actress, I’m just a personality – a sort of an institution. That’s all the public will let me be.” The actress called Lubitsch “an artist without peer,” and stated she freely was putting herself in his hands, hoping for an artistic breakthrough.

Ernst Lubitsch, left, and Mary Pickford watch as Douglas Fairbanks clowns around as Mephisto in Motion Picture Magazine.

Production on “Rosita” began March 5, 1923. The trade Camera reported on March 17, 1923, that United Artists was negotiating with Maurice Chevalier, “the musical comedy rage of Paris,” as the romantic lead, which unfortunately fell apart. The magazine also reported that Pickford hoped that the film “will make a distant phase in her transition to the dramatic pinnacle to which she aspires.” For the first time, she dreamed of escaping little girl roles and playing complicated, passionate women in her first major costume drama.

Superstar Pickford also stated that “while the new story will be strongly dramatic, it will be sprinkled with natural spontaneous comedy, but with none of the made-to-order kind, created, to use studio vernacular, through the medium of ‘business.’ I intend to make this picture ‘handwork,’ not a factory-product…”

All involved took a hands-on approach to producing the film. Discussions ensued over casting, costume and production design, and script development, with Edward Knoblock adapting the story to the screen. The crew itself was a mini United Nations; Lubitsch hailed from Germany, Pickford from Canada and America, and production designer Sven Gade came from Denmark. More lavish sets and a cast of thousands announced the stupendous nature of the film, a great departure for the actress. While communication was sometimes difficult because of Lubitsch’s poor English, others made working conditions somewhat unpleasant by making xenophobic comments ridiculing the director for his accent.

Holbrook Blinn, left, as the king in “Rosita.”

Lubitsch worked with Knoblock to develop the story into a historical dramedy of operatic proportions, cutting subtitles to reveal as much of the story as possible through acting. He worked to ensure “action that spoke,” as he told the New York Times December 16, 1923. To achieve the right emotions, the director acted out what he wanted for in each scene, with director Robert Florey, a journalist at the time, remarking that his performing outshone the cast. Twelve assistants helped direct the extras around the 47 sets.

The most difficult aspect of the whole production of “Rosita” was two control freaks fighting for ultimate power over creation. Lubitsch ruled his productions with an iron fist, controlling hiring, production, and cutting. Pickford found it difficult to take a hands-off approach to the film, since as a star her vision dominated the production of all her movies. After disagreements and arguing Pickford acquiesced to the director, telling Lubitsch that in case of a production conflict, she as producer would weigh in with the final decision.

Pickford seemed pleased with the picture as the newly titled “The Street Singer” completed production on June 3, telling staff how happy she was with the final product, and even offering Lubitsch a contract to direct one film a year for three years. That summer, trades announced that “Rosita” would open in September at New York’s Lyric Theatre. Just two months before its premiere, however, newspapers announced that Pickford had re-cut the film, and dropped any idea of signing the director to a three year contract.

While Lubitsch never worked with Pickford again, he praised her in the press. He told Motion Picture magazine in June 1924 how much he enjoyed working with her, describing “Rosita” as a “charming and wonderful experience.” The director found Pickford remarkable and stated she followed his lead, but “…her alert and intelligent mind worked like forked lightning,” watching over everything.

George Walsh as Don Diego in “Rosita.”

“Rosita” brought high praise upon release, as well as criticism. Virtually every critic lavished laurels on Holbrook Blinn, playing the wily king. Exhibitors Trade Review described it as full of tension, and Mary Pickford’s “most pretentious production,” as well as her greatest film. Lubitsch’s direction sealed the film’s success, with his attention to detail, coherent story line, lush atmospheric lighting, and wonderful staging, which most felt outshone that of Herbert Brenon in “The Spanish Dancer.” Moving Picture World on September 5, 1923 called it “grand opera,” a romantic adventure, filled with “whimsical humor.” Picture Plays on the other hand called it “a grown up story for children.”

Many critics called it Pickford’s most stellar acting, bringing a saucy joie de vivre to the ill-mannered girl, convincingly playing a flirty young woman. Washington Evening Standard on December 24, 1923 claimed “that the make believe story becomes real under the spell of her art… .” An ad in the January 21, 1924, San Bernardino Sun ballyhooed that Pickford “enters into her rightful heritage of glorious, vital, alluring womanhood in her characterization of “Rosita.” Lithe and sinuous…capricious and coquettish, beguiling and intriguing, flirting, dissembling – a new Mary Pickford who will be the Idol of Men and Women.”

Pickford herself seemed pleased, telling the July 1924 Visual Education that “without the experience of feeling the emotion of a child’s heart, I could not possibly have played my first grown up part.” She felt more sensitive and expressive in her portrayal in “Rosita.”

A comparison of Mary Pickford and Pola Negri as street singers in Motion Picture Magazine.

Others compared her unfavorably to Pola Negri’s fiery, wild woman in “The Spanish Dancer,” a passionate, earthy woman compared to Pickford’s charming and dainty girl. The January 1924 Education Screen called Pickford a “pert gamine as opposed to the passionate, experienced woman Miss Negri makes of her gypsy.” Screen Opinions in 1923 stated, “Mary Pickford was either not sufficiently adapted to the role of Rosita, or then that the director’s conception of the part was at variance with that of the star, for her comedy is less spontaneous, and her emotional work less effective than in other productions in which she has scored success.” She was described as a better coquette than dancer. For many, Pickford acted the emotions rather than actually feeling them.

Motion Picture magazine’s June 1924 piece accurately captured filmgoer sentiment regarding the film and Pickford’s typical roles. They claimed that “ ‘Rosita’ was too far removed from Mary’s own ‘stuff.’” The Pickfords realize that, although Mary must inevitably resign herself to be ‘grownup,’ the public does not like her in European settings or high power emotional plays.”

While most critics praised the gorgeous production as more beautiful than “The Spanish Dancer,” small town exhibitors heaped scorn on the film. Exhibitors Herald ran several reviews from theatre owners across the country, most stating that the film failed to draw audiences to the box office. Some called it “too highbrow,” others “dumb.” Many claimed young people failed to come as they didn’t know who Mary Pickford was, that her drawing power was falling in their areas. Many described the high cost of rentals, tiredness with costume pictures, and they hoped for something new and fresh.

Compared to other Pickford productions, “Rosita” drooped at the box office. Perhaps for this reason, as well as the difficulties of letting go of control, Pickford later slammed the film, calling it terrible, and refused to see it preserved. Thanks to the Museum of Modern Art’s restoration, audiences at the upcoming San Francisco Silent Film Festival can see the legendary film “Rosita” for themselves Friday, June 1 at 4:15 pm, and make their own conclusions regarding the artistry of Pickford and Lubitsch in creating it.

From left, D.W. Griffith, Mary Pickford, Charlie Chaplin and Douglas Fairbanks, image via the Library of Congress.

The entertainment industry as we know it irrevocably changed on February 5, 1919, when superstars Douglas Fairbanks, Mary Pickford, Charlie Chaplin, and D.W. Griffith signed the final documents outlining the organization of United Artists. For the first time, motion picture artists would control all aspects of their films’ production and distribution, putting themselves on an equal footing with studios and moguls. While each of these individuals had earned huge salaries producing films for major corporations like Famous Players-Lasky, First National, and Triangle, they would sink or fail on the success of films they financed on their own.

Business skirmishes and skullduggery influenced the founding of the corporation. In January 1919, the First National Exhibitors’ Circuit held their national convention in Los Angeles, headquartered at the luxurious Alexandria Hotel. While most convention attendees came to celebrate the circuit and hear plans for the next year, its leading executives were plotting takeover strategies for their fledgling circuit only one and half years old.

Mary Mallory’s latest book, “Living With Grace: Life Lessons from America’s Princess,”  is now on sale.

As Tracey Goessel reveals in her book, “The First King of Hollywood,” Mary Pickford’s 1916 contract with Famous Players required Adolph Zukor to merge his company with Jesse Lasky’s Lasky Feature Play Company, creating Famous Players-Lasky. They in turn produced the most films for distribution company Paramount, which they soon acquired. Top stars Pickford and Fairbanks earned huge salaries and produced their own films distributed by Paramount, which saw costs skyrocket. To cover these expenses, Zukor jacked up rates to exhibitors presenting the films, as well as block-booked other products.

Los Angeles’ theatre owner Thomas Tally and other top first-run exhibitors combined to form First National Exhibitors Circuit in 1917 as a way to compete against Zukor by organizing their own distribution firm. They chafed at having to pay Zukor top dollar for Pickford and Fairbanks productions and have to take a block of other, lesser films as well, as well as the possibility he would corner the rights to films of Hollywood’s major stars. Tally negotiated personally with Syd and Charlie Chaplin, signing Chaplin to an exclusive contract of eight pictures for $1 million plus a $75,000 bonus in 1917. In 1918, Tally was able to sign Pickford to an exclusive contract.

Los Angeles Times columnist Grace Kingsley in reporting on the First National 1919 Los Angeles convention stated, “It looks, in fact, as some sort of combination among all the big producers might be under way,” as all the big producers were engaging in secretive meetings before the start of the event. Rumors were circulating in the press that First National and Paramount might merge. Chaplin saw something dark in the situation as well. He had appeared before the board asking for additional compensation per reel for multiple-reel films, and was turned down. In his autobiography, Chaplin wrote, “Exhibitors were rugged merchants in those days, and to them films were merchandise costing so much a yard…I might as well have been a lone factory worker asking General Motors for a raise.”

Motion Picture News reported in their February 1, 1919, issue that superstar Chaplin got the ball rolling on Monday, January 13, when he visited D.W. Griffith’s studio and expressed his dissatisfaction with the First National situation to Harry Garson, who suggested Chaplin form his own distribution company. When Chaplin propositioned Griffith, he added hearty assent. Chaplin then visited with Fairbanks, William S. Hart, and Pickford to see about them joining the combine. That night the group met at Syd Chaplin’s home, with Charlotte Pickford representing Mary as she recuperated from influenza. They developed and signed preliminary articles of agreement.

Fairbanks, Pickford, Griffith and Chaplin, Photoplay, Jan. 1919.

On Tuesday evening, January 14, all took dinner in the Alexandria Hotel surrounded by the First National leaders and other motion picture industry bigwigs, setting off all types of rumors. The five signed a formal agreement Wednesday afternoon, January 15, agreeing to put up $100,000 each as capitalization, with each making three films a year for the organization for the next three years. The press statement quickly followed. The name of their organization would be called the United Artists Distributing Association, which would solely distribute the pictures created by the superstars. Fairbanks himself released a statement on January 16 reporting that the group had received more than 200 telegrams supporting their decision, due to the high cost of licensing pictures.

The superstars organized wisely, with Fairbanks bringing in his good friend William McAdoo, former United States secretary of the Treasury on February 4, to act as the attorney for the organization. McAdoo, former director-general of the railroad industry and who had earned $12,000 a year as Treasury secretary, would earn a six-figure salary working for United Artists, and gave the fledgling organization prestige and clout. Wall Street pricked up its ears when the news of McAdoo’s appointment was announced, opening the possibility of investment by major concerns. Some stories promoted the possibility of such tycoons as Henry Ford, J.P. Morgan, and E.I. du Pont serving as potential backers.

McAdoo himself told the press about the company’s organization that day, “They have determined not to permit any trust to destroy competition, or to blight or to interfere with the high quality of their work. The feel that it is of the utmost importance to secure the artistic development of the motion picture industry, and they believe that will be impossible if any trust should get possession of the field and menace the business.”

On February 5, Pickford, Fairbanks, Griffith, and Chaplin signed the final official documents making United Artists official. By this time, William S. Hart had backed away from the organization, not wanting to tie himself down to any contract for three years. The agreement set up the formal United Artists Distributing Corporation office in New York capitalized to the tune of $500,000, which would establish contracts with exhibitors around the country, on a percentage basis in large cities and flat rates in rural areas. Each star would produce and finance their own films personally, agreeing to make four films per year for three years for the organization. The owners would equally own all the shares of the corporation.

The next day, February 6, the stars restaged the contract signing at Chaplin’s Studio on a set resembling that of an office. That afternoon, Fairbanks, Chapin, Pickford, and Griffith jauntily posed for still photographers at Griffith’s Studio, with Fairbanks lifting Chaplin up in the air while Pickford and Griffith tried to look more dignified.

Mary Pickford told the New York Tribune on February 23, “The announced purpose of this organization is to preclude any possibility of the establishment by the producers of a trust which would tend to commercialize the screen offerings of the respective stars, and thus result in machine-made pictures.” D.W. Griffith himself told Camera Magazine for their 1919 yearbook issue that the time had come for stars and directors to take control of their work and produce the films they wanted, not those dictated to them by studio concerns.

The March 16, 1919 editorial in the Albuquerque Morning Journal recognized the importance of United Artists’ formation and William McAdoo’s connection with it as vital for the rest of the industry. “…he is the fairy godfather who waves the magic wand and converts the young movie business from a scrambling Bohemian sort of thing into a supremely sound and conservative corporation.” From this point forward, the motion picture industry was now a major financial enterprise financed by the likes of Wall Street concerns, a huge moneymaking machine.

Note: This is an encore post from 2013.

Los Angeles in 1923 was a bustling, growing, optimistic place.  The town recognized all sorts of interesting people and topics, saluting them with their own days.  There were Raisin Day, Prune Day, Father-and-Son Day, Fireless Cooker Day, and many others that year.  Dec. 3, 1923 was Mary Pickford Day, which unfortunately coincided with Golden Rule Day.  Per the Dec. 4, 1923,  Los Angeles Times, only a few Golden Rule observations occurred.

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

One of the largest crowds ever, from 15,000 to 50,000 people crowded Pershing Square to see Los Angeles Mayor Cryer, R. W. Pridham, vice president of the Chamber of Commerce, and Frank Wiggins, secretary of the Chamber, honor Miss Pickford.  Attending with her were her husband, Douglas Fairbanks, her mother, Charlotte Pickford, and her niece, Gwynne Pickford.  A jazz band offered music, and Disabled Veterans of World War I sent a color guard.  The mayor made a speech saluting the actress, calling her “Our Mary,” and “Queen of the Queens of the Movies.”  Douglas Fairbanks told the crowd, “This is Mary Pickford Day to you but for me every day is Mary Pickford Day.”

Pickford tried to use a megaphone when giving her speech, but few heard her words.  She warned against too many film aspirants flocking to Los Angeles.  She stated that “…I would ask the boys and girls who go to the studios to be prepared to work for five years, if necessary, before reaching stardom, and that if they should fail, to be prepared to take up some other career.”  She also felt girls should be accompanied by their mothers.

Chamber of Commerce records estimated that “10,000 young men and women, less than legal age, come to this city every month to seek jobs in pictures, and of course only a small part of them have any talents, or, if so, have the good fortune in the struggle to find places, for the directors are deluged with applications.”

Pickford also regretted that city officials and motion picture industry executives did not better understand each other and work together, a state which still somewhat exists to this day.  If both worked together, they would create more jobs, and make filming in the city an easier proposition for producers.  This would help boost employment, as well as revenues for all types of businesses large and small throughout the city.

Photo: Mary Pickford in the 1933 Rose Parade. Courtesy of Mary Mallory

Note: This is a 2012 post with a slight update. The 131st Rose Parade is on Wednesday.

Tomorrow sees the 124th annual Tournament of Roses Parade in Pasadena,  welcoming the new year with magnificent garlands of fresh flowers. It also acts as the 80th anniversary of Mary Pickford serving as the first female grand marshal of the parade.

Begun by the Valley Hunt Club in 1890, the Rose Parade saluted the area’s wonderful weather and flowering paradise.Soon, the Tournament of Roses Assn. took over what they now call “America’s New Year Celebration, greeting the world on the first day of the year….”

Photo: A Rose Parade float. Credit: Courtesy of Mary Mallory.

Club presidents chose honorary grand marshals to fit the theme of each year’s parade, usually either past presidents or important civic, cultural and military leaders. This process helped promote the theme, lent prestige and honor to the festivities, and helped publicize the event.

California Gov. James Rolph acted as grand marshal in 1930, retired Maj. Gen. Charles Stewart Farnsworth, an Altadena resident, led the 1931 parade, and William May Garland, president of the 10^th Olympiad Committee, organizing the 1932 Los Angeles Olympics, served as grand marshal in 1932.

The organizing committee bucked precedent in the winter of 1932 by selecting actress Mary Pickford as the grand marshal for the 1933 Rose Parade, the first woman so honored. The Nov. 30, 1932, Los Angeles Times displayed a photo of Pickford receiving an engraved scroll from Dorothy Edwards, the 1933 tournament queen, as her official formal invitation. Pickford’s honor caused a small uproar among those upset that the organization should honor a woman over a man.

“Although the selection of a woman as grand marshal created somewhat of a sensation due to breaking a precedent of more than two score years’ standing, the choice was characterized as especially fitting. The fairyland theme of the pageant has a youthful quality, a quality that ‘Our Mary’ symbolizes on the screen,” as pointed out by a Tournament official to The Times. The designated theme for 1933 saluted “A Book of Fairy Tales in Flowers,” with the parade occurring Monday, Jan. 2, because Jan. 1 fell on a Sunday.

The Dec. 27 edition of the paper noted that Pickford would occupy a coach drawn by four pure-white horses, and decorated with lavender and shell-pink sweet peas, China lilies, and 5,000 pink roses. She would wear a green orchid satin court gown, over which she would wear an early 1870s period coat made of white velvet with matching jacket, muff and hat.

Mary Pickford in a “coach and four,” for the 1933 Rose Parade.

Her guests for the parade included her husband, actor Douglas Fairbanks, as well as Douglas Fairbanks Jr. and Joan Crawford, Mr. and Mrs. Leslie Howard, Mr. and Mrs. Frank Borzage, Gary Cooper, Countess Dorothy Di Frasso, Elsa Maxwell, and her niece, Gwynne Pickford.

The Jan. 3 Los Angeles Times reported that 15,000 rose blossoms trimmed the carriage, and marveled at how the largest parade crowd in history strained forward to see Mary, the most popular entry. The article also noted how beautiful Pickford appeared, and quoted a female spectator as saying, “Is she always going to be this way?”

In 1971, Pasadena Star-News sports editor Joe Hendrickson put together “The Tournament of Roses,” the first fully illustrated history of the 100-year-old organization, describing in detail the history of the football games, parades, and other events surrounding it. He wrote  Pickford to obtain information about her time as grand marshal.

Her husband, Buddy Rogers, replied to Hendrickson on September 13, 1969, writing that Mary had been ill and they were catching up with her correspondence. He read her Hendrickson’s letter, and in turn, was sending back her remembrances of the event.  “Her participation in the Tournament of Roses should have been one of the happiest experiences in her life, but unfortunately, it was one of her saddest days, owing to the fact that her beloved brother, Jack Pickford, was desperately ill and fighting for his life at the very moment. Although her heart was breaking, Mary was waving and smiling to the millions of people.

Her motivation for accepting the role was a complete dedication to California and its people. She was happy to be part of this important pageantry of beauty.”

Mary’s happiness was extremely short-lived however, with her brother Jack entering the American Hospital in Paris on the same day as the parade, and dying on Jan. 3, 1933. He was only 36 years old.

Note: This is an encore post from 2012.

The 1920s saw a series of fads sweep the nation as the American populace searched out the new and exciting after experiencing hardship and deprivation during World War I and a great recession in the early 1920s.  Mah Jongg, Ouija Boards, Crossword Puzzles, and the Charleston were a few of the newest things introduced to the American public in the middle of the decade, soon followed by miniature golf.  This peewee golf boom exploded in the late 1920s, with celebrities joining the bandwagon.

The Los Angeles Times on June 22, 1930 called Mrs. Garnett Carter of Chattanooga, Tennessee the initiator of the mini-golf hysteria.  She and her husband owned the Fairyland Inn on Lookout Mountain, which kept them busy and away from playing golf.  In 1926, she laid out two small holes with little tees and putting greens so that she could at least practice putting, with the second hole more difficult as it possessed an undulating green.

Golf course designers Pollock (Polly) Boyd and Ewing (Slim) Watkins noticed the little course, and convinced the Carters to allow them to build a full eighteen holes.  The Fairyland Inn course flourished, so Boyd and Watkins eventually opened their own public course in Chattanooga after much public comments that it was doomed to fail.  Instead, the course proved widely popular.  The men copyrighted their idea under the name “Bob-o-Link” and the Carters copyrighted the name “Tom Thumb,” and the rush was on to build courses across the country.

The two teams soon joined together to patent the idea of employing cottonseed in building the courses.  To get around having to pay copyright fees, others created the idea of employing felt for the fairways, leading to more construction.

The Times article mentioned a homemade course at the Glen Arden Club in Glendale around 1928, but claimed that George R. Gillespie built the first “Bob-o-Link” course at Wilshire and Fairfax in 1929, soon followed by a “Tom Thumb” course behind the Plaza Hotel in Hollywood.  Courses began blossoming around the city, as empty lots were converted into courses. Golf itself was riding a wave of popularity with Bobby Jones having won the golf Grand Slam a few years before, but miniature golf was affordable for the middle classes and something the entire family could partake in.

The Times article stated that course owners felt the game was here to stay, but did note “the situation has developed so rapidly no one, not even those on the inside, know what to expect.”  More architecturally beautiful courses were being constructed, those that appealed to people of all ages.  As the article also noted, “Playing these miniature courses requires practically no skill…but players can take a terrible score and still have a whale of a time.”  The writer claimed that putting came naturally to most women because of their gifts with wielding a broom.

Miniature courses exploded around the city.  A June 24, 1930, Los Angeles Times article stated that in late 1929 virtually none existed, but as of this date, more than 300 now stood, with no regulations covering them.  Many stayed open seven days a week to all hours of the  morning with bright lights in operation.  Councilmen Webster introduced a curfew law to require all courses to shut at midnight to “preserve the peace, harmony and comfort” of the citizens of Los Angeles.

Courses soon appeared at the old Brokaw property at 5937 Hollywood Blvd. in Hollywood and in the basement at the southeast corner of Seventh and Broadway, which was played by more than 250 people daily.  A beautiful Japanese course was built downtown, as well as one with rock garden and cascades in Pasadena.  Peewee golf was so popular that courses were even rigged on top decks of ships like the City of Los Angeles and California liners.

The August 3, 1930 Los Angeles Times commissioned a report stating that there were more than 400 courses in Los Angeles County at that time, with more than 100 under construction.  C. K. Levitt of the Miniature Golf Design and Construction Company stated, “It is believed that more than 400,000 persons play the courses each week or more than 1,125,000 a month.  The average price is 35 cents with some courses charging 25 cents.”  Average daily gross per course was estimated to be $300, with the estimated weekly income around the full county considered to be $150,000.

Film superstar Mary Pickford jumped into the craze, buying land at Wilshire Blvd. and La Cienega Blvd. in Beverly Hills on which to build an elaborate course.  The Times in its August 3 article stated that she would spend $50,000 to construct her one of a kind course.  The August 31, 1930, Los Angeles Times reported on the dedication ceremonies for the opening of the Wilshire Links, which a number of celebrities attended, including Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks.

“Designed and constructed by artisans of the United Artists Studios under the direction of Mary Pickford, the course is French ultra-modernistic in style with a landscaping plan that includes a lagoon and wandering streams, the whole enhanced by modern holophanic lighting effects…In charge of construction of the links were members of Miss Pickford’s own staff at United Artists Studios, including N. A. McKay, business manager; Park French, art director; M. L. Lloyd, engineer, and E. J. Ralph, assistant to Mr. McKay.”

According to a blog posting, Lanier and Virginia Stivers Bartlett mention it in their Los Angeles boosting book, “Los Angeles in 7 Days.”  “After passing the handsome Fox Wilshire Theater, Mrs. Guia again brought a gasp from Miss Jones by announcing “Mary Pickford’s Wilshire Links.”

“You mean–this place is run by Mary Pickford?”

“Well, it belongs to her.  Isn’t it crazy looking, with all those grotesque artificial trees and toadstools and gigantic colored umbrellas–everything twisted and tortured into futuristic hobgoblinism?  Is it popular?  I should say so!  That is, as miniature golf goes nowadays.”

While miniature golf exploded in popularity for a couple of years, by 1932, interest greatly faded away.  Not until the 1950s did the sport come back into style.

In a tumultuous year filled with pandemic, isolation, ill will, and seeming madness, the 39th Annual Pordenone Silent Film Festival transported guests on magical journeys to other worlds, eras, and even dimensions, revealing the richness of love and humanity at a time it is so desperately lacking. Turning lemons into lemonade, the festival’s organizers masterfully arranged a thoughtful, select program of motion pictures, author talks, master classes, and live discussions that still engendered community, discussion, and scholarship.

At the conclusion of each film program, live discussion between festival director Jay Weissberg, archivists, scholars, authors, performers, and the like provided further context to the motion picture, performers, and themes located in the work, further enriching the experience.

Mary Mallory’s “Living With Grace” is now on sale.

The festival began October 3 with a program of short film pieces titled “The Urge to Travel,” showcasing striking street scenes and landscapes around the world, helping transport audiences on journeys to new lands, new hopes, outside of the melancholic confinements of Covid-19 and the sterility of their homes. These shorts provided an escape to beauty, serenity and joy. Spanning 1912 to 1939, the one-reel shorts provided views of the bustle of early New York City, the beautiful canals of Bruges, Belgium, Planty Park in Krakow, Poland, a humorously surreal Switzerland cigarette ad, a charming bicycle ad, a happy, relaxed Trieste in 1939, little dreaming of war, and a gorgeous hand-tinted view of Cairo, Egypt and the Pyramids and Sphinx in 1928, isolated and inspiring in the wide-open vistas. Jose Maria Serralde Ruiz provided lush, romantic stylings to suggest yearning for travel.

That evening, the 1923 First National picture “Penrod and Sam” played, a sequel to Booth Tarkington’s original “Penrod” novel, about the adventures of an all-American boy and his friends in small town USA, starring a young Ben Alexander, scene-stealing Eugene Jackson, Mary Philbin, Gladys Brockwell, Rockcliff Fellowes, a smarmy William Mong, and a brief Flora Finch. A touching and sweet slice of Americana carrying audiences back to a nostalgic, bucolic past, boyhood, and family life, “Penrod and Sam” featured the heart-tugging antics of a little dog. Beautifully tinted, the charming production included fine performances by its young cast, particularly the African American children willingly accepted as part of the group, ahead of its time in its on-screen depiction, and naturalistic direction by long time director William Beaudine. Stephen Horne’s moving score moved between jaunty playfulness and darker detailings as the film shifted between joyful play and melancholic moments.

Sunday afternoon featured a program entitled “The Brilliant Biograph: the Earliest Views of Europe, 1897-1902,” providing tasty bites of actuality travelogues offering moments of escape. Filmed by the American Mutoscope and Biograph Company and shot on 68 millimeter, these snippets provided a rich clarity and detailed view of street/daily life in such places as Venice (with inventor/cameraman W. K.L. Dickson clowning for the camera),Venice, London, the ruins of Pompeii, romantic English countryside, and the like. Daan van der Hurk provided a lovely, romantic interlude to accompany the films.

Sunday night’s program presented the 1935 Chinese film “Guofeng” starring renowned, tragic actress Ruan Lingyu, in a story of two sisters dueling over the love of their cousin while finding their place in the nation’s collective as it fights over following decadent, selfish western values or supportive, collective eastern values. Ruan, who committed suicide the next year, provides another expressive, vulnerable performance, revealing so much through her eyes. Her character disappears during the middle third of the film, perhaps she was already feeling ill.

The film jumps between conflicted family relationships and sensitive romance and flag-waving propaganda for a happy, peaceful population working together for the greater good. While the political moments were a little heavy handed, one could glimpse conflicts in our own culture between ego-driven, status-obsessed individuals and empathetic, intelligent givers working for the greater good. Gabriel Thibaudeau’s melancholic musings mixed well with his more upbeat, forward leaning collective score.

The 1921 Sessue Hayakawa film “When Lights Are Low” played Monday, produced by Hayakawa’s own Haworth Production Co. and featuring many Asian actors in a story of a Chinese prince (Hayakawa) who finds his true love kidnapped and sold to a white traffic slave ring in San Francisco, where he works to raise money to free her himself. Hayakawa gives an expressive, intense performance and Yamamoto underplays the villainous Chang Bo Lo with the coiled intensity of a Lon Chaney. Bracingly unattractive Mrs. Louise Emmons makes a cameo as Lo’s devious messenger. Remarkably, Hollywood’s own Yamashiro stands in for Hayakawa’s Chinese palace in a film with rich atmosphere and lighting.

The hilarious, energetic surreal stop-motion Thanhouser short “Toodles, Tom and Trouble” preceded the feature, with a husband who misplaces his baby and chases a Collie dog carrying what he believes is his child around New Rochelle, N.Y. through lake, park, roads, quarry, and mining site. Philip Carli’s accompaniment provided jaunty, madcap fun to the wacky short, and lush, romantic scoring to the dramatic feature.

The 1921 Italian film “Kill or Cure” screened Tuesday, a beautifully tinted and designed, so-so frenetic film about a man who fears he is inheriting his family’s bent towards insanity and his friends’ over-the-top efforts to demonstrate he isn’t. The 1916 Czechoslovakian short “Bohemian Castles and Fortresses” preceded the feature, a mildly amusing tale of an actor romancing his girlfriend in the lovely countryside who realizes he must speed to the city to make opening curtain for his show. Featuring all types of chases through gorgeous countryside, the film concludes as the hero jumps through a window to run onto the stage, as this film was to energetically start a real play. While both featured stunts and chases similar to Buster Keaton and Harold Lloyd, both provided bland entertainment. Frank Bockius and Gunther Buchwald’s score mixed jaunty set pieces playing off a beating clock and moving train with overly busy underscoring.

Wednesday night’s presentation featured the recently restored 1930 Greek film “The Apaches of Athens,” a middle of the road operetta of a young man role playing as a rich man in attempts to win the hand of a wealthy young woman. A little bit of a stuffed shirt, the main character offers a lighthearted impersonation, with his two scene-stealing friends, Italian versions of 1930s Warner Bros. character actors like Allan Jenkins and Frank McHugh provide nice comic relief. The film includes gorgeous shots of the actual Acropolis and other sites across the now famous city, along with the ironic if appropriate image of Chaplin as the Tramp on the wall of the hero’s living quarters. The original sound on film score has been lost, so a new score blending effects, traditional cues, and Greek chorus singing popular songs of the day adds a small bit of texture.

Brigitte Helm starred in G.W. Pabst’s moving, dramatic 1928 film “Astray/The Devious Path” on Thursday, providing an intense, expressive performance of a woman growing bored with her workaholic, uncaring husband and finding a night of distraction at a staid Berlin cabaret. Expressive with both her eyes and her whole physical body, Helm steals the show as a woman unsure of what she wants, but desiring a more heated, passionate relationship. Camerawork is first rate, from the framing of Helm’s eyes by her hat brim and large collar, to night time shots to framing in the nightclub scenes. Art direction, story, and acting are all first-rate, and Mauro Colombis provided an understated but lush score.

Friday featured a moving Mary Pickford adjusting both to backward life in gold rush California and living with a sensual if duplicitous good bad man in the striking Cecil B. DeMille directed “Romance of the Redwoods” (1917). Wooed by an older if naive Charles Ogle, she must choose between staid respectability and passionate attraction in this solid Western, shot in northern California among the actual redwoods. Cameraman Alvin Wyckoff creates beautiful effects with his lighting, from a hand held light projecting a moonlight glow on Elliot Dexter’s face, to moonlight, to framing of Pickford. Tully Marshall plays a slightly skuzzy leading citizen and Raymond Hatton plays a young miner. Donald Sosin provided a rousing, dynamic western score, which included saloon type interlude songs sung by his wife, Joanna Seaton.

Saturday concluded with two programs, a 1913 Danish romance in the afternoon and the lighthearted “Laured or Hardy” that evening. “Daughter of the Ballet” featured a likable, impish Rita Satchetto as one of Denmark’s prima ballerinas who finds herself wooed by a charming, refined admirer. Once they marry, he demands she retire, but soon bored, she secretly fills in one night for her former ballet company when her husband makes a surprise visit. After some lighthearted moments, the couple reunites. The film displays the high quality production mise en scene, acting, and cinematography of Danish cinema, with John Sweeney provided a romantic, sweet counterpoint in his accompaniment.

The festival finished with the entertaining and lighthearted “Laurel or Hardy” program, featuring shorts starring one or other of the boys before they became Hal Roach’s top comic team. Hardy starred in a 1915 short “The Serenade” shot in Jacksonville, Fla., in one of the world’s most terrible bands. Hardy also appeared in the frenetic 1921 Larry Semon Vitagraph short “The Rent Collector,” shot at the Vitagraph lot at what is now Prospect Avenue in East Hollywood, with scenes at Echo Park Lake and the streets of East Hollywood.

Laurel starred in the wacky prison comedy “Detained,” showing shtick that would become a regular part of his performance in the team, winking at the audience, crying, the odd giggle, and the like. Off the wall humor featuring questionable gags about the gallows and the electric chair combined with witty titles to sell the picture. Laurel directed the 1925 short “Moonlight and Noses” starring Noah Young and Clyde Cook attempting to rob a house and getting mixed up in ghostly proceedings with wacky professor James Finlayson. Closing out the Festival, one reel of a hilarious 1923 parody short “When Knights Were Cold” played, with Laurel zanily fighting off scores of treacherous knights as he attempts to rescue his lady love from a tower. The program featured high-spirited, sprightly accompaniment by Neil Brand.

During the week, the Festival hosted daily interviews with authors as part of its Bookfair presentation, highlighting scholarly histories, biographies, and overviews of the silent period. The host conducted thoughtful interviews with authors on the background and evolution of their books, with some providing illustrations to augment their talks and others providing a more detailed synopsis of their works.

Composers and accompanists also gained the opportunity to discuss their creative process in creating a score to accompany a silent film, be it through researching the music of the period, either popular or cues/scores created at time, understanding the filmmakers and their intentions through readings and preparations, watching the films, or even playing to the rise and fall of scene action throughout the movie. Each comes from different backgrounds: some with deep musical knowledge and experience, others from accompanying dance, and others from education.

These talks allowed audiences to gain a deeper appreciation of the work entailed in creating a score, be it in live improvisation or in actually composing a prepared score ahead of time. Accompanists at Pordenone exhibit great artistry in their accompaniment, bringing alive the emotions and passions engendered in the films. Pianist Philip Carli described how his best playing came when he tapped into the film’s emotions, becoming one with the presentation, riding the wave of feeling to the end. British accompanist Neil Brand revealed how his most evocative playing usually occurs as he forgets himself and gives way to feeling as the music flows out of him, little remembering what he played when the film concludes. Many felt that their accompaniments occurred in spite of themselves, as almost Zen moments in harmony with the film.

An edifying and entertaining respite from troubles, the 39th Pordenone Silent Film Festival showcased world cinema and its abilities to document humanity and culture, allowing an escape from troubles as well as an opportunity to learn and grow from the past.

The opening of “King of Kings at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre. Photo courtesy of Bruce Torrence.

Note: This is an encore post from 2017.

Still ready for its close-up, the TCL Chinese Theatre, originally Grauman’s Chinese Theatre, turns 90 on May 18, looking as glamorous and exotic as when it premiered on Hollywood Boulevard in 1927. Under construction for almost 16 months, the Chinese Theatre stands as perhaps legendary theatre impresario Sid Grauman’s ultimate masterpiece, a fabulous moving picture palace that outshines virtually anything produced by the Hollywood studio system.

While not the first film theatre devised and built by visionary Grauman, the Chinese Theatre represents the pinnacle of motion picture theatre construction, an atmospheric pleasure dome for the senses which still overwhelms with its unique beauty. Opening just two years before the start of the Great Depression, the theatre stands as a fascinating concoction of hallucinatory dream and kitsch, the ultimate symbol of success for those hoping to make it in motion picture business. Like the Hollywood Sign, the theatre acts as an iconic symbol for the city in which it was created, drawing people from around the globe hoping to soak up just a tiny bit of its special stardust.

Hollywood at Play, by Donovan Brandt, Mary Mallory and Stephen X. Sylvester is now on sale.

Sid Grauman, Charlie Chaplin, Norma Talmadge, Conrad Nagel and Anna Mae Wong were among the celebrities at the groundbreaking for the Chinese Theatre. Photo courtesy of Bruce Torrence.

The Chinese Theatre sprang out of the imagination of inquisitive Sid Grauman. Born in Indianapolis, Indiana March 17, 1879, Grauman and his family immigrated westward in search of fame and fortune in entertainment. Ending up in Dawson City, Alaska during the 1890s gold strike, the Graumans survived by providing shows to lonely miners before making it to San Francisco and opening small theatres before the Great Earthquake of 1906 destroyed them. Quick on his feet, Sid located a moving picture projector and began showing films in a tent. The family quickly prospered and acquired several film theatres around the area before Sid decided to seek his fortune in the western motion picture capital, Los Angeles.

Obtaining finance through partnering with Famous Players-Lasky, who purchased the family’s San Francisco chain of theatres, the Graumans purchased the Rialto and constructed their first elaborate moving picture theatre in downtown Los Angeles in 1918, the Million Dollar. Sid introduced what became to be his calling card, the world famous “Prologues,” which combined dance, singing, and showmanship to provide a thematic introduction to the films. Over the next nine years, Grauman would go on to open other elaborate theatres, including the Metropolitan and his first Hollywood showplace, the Egyptian Theatre, the site of his first grand Hollywood premieres.

An early postcard of the Chinese Theatre.

By 1924, Grauman had sold his interest in the downtown theatres to Famous Players-Lasky and concentrated his full attention in Hollywood, running the Egyptian and conceiving of new schemes before selling out the Egyptian to West Coast Theatres but continuing management. The January, 22, 1924 Hollywood Daily Citizen reported that Grauman had relinquished control of the downtown theatres and planned to open two new elaborate theatres in Los Angeles and one in Long Beach to realize long time dreams “to compete with any cinema palace in the country.” Grauman departed for a long European vacation to visit theatres.

His long percolating idea began taking shape that fall. The September 23, 1924 Exhibitors Trade Review stated that master showman Grauman intended to construct a 2,500 seat theatre in Los Angeles. On November 2 in Chicago, he announced plans to construct a new Hollywood theatre to cost approximately $2 million. Thanks to the help of renowned Hollywood real estate man C. E. Toberman, Grauman had obtained property at 6925 Hollywood Blvd. between Sycamore and Orange, and obtained a demolition permit on July 19, 1924 to remove the L. C. Jones residence, which has also been purported to be the residence of Francis X. Bushman.

For the next year, Grauman bided his time, lining up financing and working with architect Raymond Kennedy of Meyer and Holler to devise a fantastical design. Meyer and Holler had designed the gorgeous Egyptian, and logically worked on the Chinese as well. Main architect Kennedy focused on the more delicate Chippendale style of Chinese architecture, as well as more imaginative designs.

Sid Grauman, who followed the Million-Dollar Theatre in downtown Los Angeles with the Egyptian and then the Chinese.

As usual, financing and construction matters took longer than anticipated to transpire. Film Daily announced Grauman’s elaborate plans to document construction on September 6, 1925. Grandstands would be constructed to allow journalists and the public to observe concrete pouring for the foundation, with a jazz band and other divertissements providing entertainment.

On October 13, 1925, Film Daily reported the formation of Grauman’s Greater Hollywood Theatre Inc. in Sacramento under the partnership of Grauman, United Artists executive Joseph Schenck, and producer Sol Lesser with $1 million in financing. The November 21, 1925 Moving Picture World called forthcoming construction of the Chinese Theatre “to make the finest palace of entertainment on earth… .” To creatively get things going, steel for the theatre’s trusses was feted at the new McClintic Marshall Company plant in south Los Angeles on Armistice Day, with Grauman and Chinese American actress Anna May Wong posing for photographs.

By December, financing plans had been finalized, with ownership split evenly between Grauman, Schenck, and West Coast Theatres in the construction of the Class A Theatre for $900,000. The December 16, 1925 Variety reported that Banks, Huntley and Co. submitted a $450,000 bond issue for the theatre, with some reports stating that the theatre would cost into the millions of dollars.

The foyer of the Chinese Theatre.

Newspapers across the country splashed stories regarding the elaborate groundbreaking at 7 pm on Tuesday, January 5, 1926, with 10,000 people coming to watch. Master showman Grauman lined up MGM actor Conrad Nagel as master of ceremonies, with Chinese bands and acrobats and prologue dancers from the Egyptian Theatres’ “The Big Parade” to perform in an elaborately staged Oriental garden flooded by spotlights and decorated with Chinese lanterns and banners. Chinese tea, cakes, and candy were served, before the ringing of large gongs announced the ceremony’s beginning.

Anna May Wong once again participated, this time in support of actress Norma Talmadge, Schenck’s wife. Talmadge lifted the first spadeful of dirt with a golden shovel and then pulled a level of a giant steam shovel to start excavation work. Thousands of exploding Chinese firecrackers completed the ceremony. Celebrities such as Louis B. Mayer, Schenck, A. P. Giannini, Charlie Chaplin, William Farrell of the Los Angeles Chamber of Commerce, and Dr. Wong Fook of the Chinese community attended, per wire reports.

A detail of one of the murals in the theater.

The February 6, 1926 Moving Picture World described construction plans for the 2,500 seat theatre, with an Oriental garden planned for the forecourt, and forty foot tall walls protecting it. The 40’ x 140’ stage would be one of the largest in the world, surrounded by a 65 foot tall proscenium arch. Fanciful Chinese sculpture and design would decorate interiors. Ticket prices for the flamboyant theatre would range from $1.65 to $2.50 and include Grauman’s legendary prologue before the two a day screenings. United Artists would now operate the theatre, as part of an original idea between Grauman, Schenck, and Shubert Theatres to open a chain of 22 movie palaces across the country. The Chinese would play top end “run” pictures intended to play for weeks or even months.

Grauman pulled his first permit March 29, 1926 for the theatre, with estimates of 109 tons of reinforced steel and 7,400 bbls of cement required for construction. Additional permits were pulled on July 16, to increase the size of the orchestra pit, stage doors, and for other alterations. The June 7 Los Angeles Times estimated that 800 tons of steel would be required for construction. On March 25, 1927, Electrical Products Corporation pulled permits to erect two vertical electrical signs.

While the Chinese was under construction, Grauman and Schenck joined with Mary Pickford, Douglas Fairbanks, and others to finance the building of the Roosevelt Hotel across the street, intended to serve as the abode for stars participating in premiere or special events at the Chinese. The Roosevelt opened shortly before the theatre.

Director Cecil B. De Mille at the premiere of “King of Kings,” the film that opened the Chinese.

Construction deadlines evolved over time, with optimistic projections of opening in late 1926 continually pushed back until May 18, 1927. In October 1926, Liu Yu Clung, a renowned Chinese scholar, appeared to examine approximately 46 models of statuary planned as decoration, all constructed by the model shop on the property devised by Meyer and Holler in order to study lighting and effect work.

On February 12, director Cecil B. DeMille and Grauman signed an agreement for “King of Kings” to receive its West Coast premiere at the opening of the theatre as work moved madly forward to reach May completion. By March, Grauman was ensuring secrecy on decoration by posting guards and barriers to prevent people from seeing the facade until the grand opening.

On April 30, 1927, Sid Grauman hosted America’s Sweetheart Mary Pickford and dashing action hero Douglas Fairbanks in the first hand and footprint ceremony in the theatre’s forecourt, with photos sent by wire across country. Grauman announced that he hoped to obtain the prints of Hollywood’s major stars to decorate the theatre’s exterior before the theatre’s opening, but only Norma Talmadge’s ceremony beat the May 18 premiere.

Motion Picture News saluted Grauman on May 11, 1927 for the upcoming opening of the Chinese. They noted how Grauman was the first to recognize the importance of the organist in accompanying silent films, the first to introduce trousered usherettes, the first to use the overhead spot, creating the prologue, and the like.

Grauman’s Chinese was featured in Variety.

Hollywood businesses joined in to celebrate the Chinese Theatre’s opening. The May 13 Los Angeles Times noted that the Hollywood Chamber of Commerce and its Retail Merchants’ Bureau heartily joined in, hoping to promote their own businesses with a week long list of celebrations. Each agreed to decorate their own buildings, street lamps, electric poles, cafes, hotels, and the like in Chinese decoration, along with street parades, floats, night celebrations, bands, orchestras, and all street lights the length of Hollywood Boulevard in the main business district to be turned into Chinese lanterns for the week. A gigantic dragon more than several hundred feet long would also take part in the parade.

The Wednesday, May 18 ceremony sold out within two days of its announcement at $11 per ticket, one of the highest ever. It dazzled the thousands of people outside the theatre, 22,000 lining the sidewalks 10 deep. Huge spotlights crisscrossed the sky as stars arrived for the grand opening to walk the red carpet and be interviewed by radio. A veritable Who’s Who of Hollywood participated in the grand ceremonies, included the Chinese actor Sojin and San Francisco Mayor James Rolph.

A gorgeous color program promoted the theatre’s opening and the “King of Kings” premiere. Striking Oriental drawings decorated the pages, along with detailed and hyperbolic descriptions of the theatre. A pagoda like box office sat in the forecourt with bronze roof aged to the color of green jade to match that of the main theatre. Stone dragons and statues graced the exterior walls of the theatre, with the massive front doors flanked by gigantic red lacquer columns. The 2,200 seat auditorium “gives the impression of entering a gigantic shrine of the time of the Five Emperors…” and a giant chandelier in the form of a Chinese lantern hung in the massive lobby.

Mary Pickford waves from a biplane promoting Grauman’s Chinese Theatre.

The fireproof curtain was described as replicating twin doors of an immense lacquered cabinet, opening to a stage four times the size of the average Los Angeles theatre. Power and lighting for stage shows operated from its own power plant. Furnishings were provided by Barker Bros. Oriental shop, including cow horn lanterns. Per the May 11 Variety, “The decorating scheme of the house is a color symphony based on the dominating color of Chinese art, red, interpreted in ruby, crimson, pale scarlet and coral lacquer, with complementary hues to to provide contrasting values… .”

Before the prologue, director Fred Niblo introduced D. W. Griffith as master of ceremonies, who then introduced director Cecil B. DeMille to describe the film. MPPDA director Will Hays said a few words before introducing Mary Pickford, who rang a bell to announce the curtain and start the prologue, which was supposed to start at 8:30 pm, but started late to arrivals having difficulty wading through the crowds. 200 people participated in the “Glories of the Scriptures” prologue, accompanied by the Chinese 100 piece orchestra, and Pryce Dunlavy Jr. at the mighty Wurlitzer organ, performing the score created by Dr. Hugo Reisenfeld. The 24 minute prologue focused on events in the Old Testament and included a dance sequence by Theodore Kosloff and his dancers and 125 performers for the first scene alone.

In the August 13, 1933, Lee Side of L.A. column, the otherworldly nature of a Grauman house was described. “…When you enter a Grauman house, you know you are leaving the world of reality behind and entering the world of make believe.” Still a stupendous achievement in architecture and atmospheric design, Grauman’s Chinese still enthralls all who enter its doors in search of superior and wondrous motion picture entertainment.
Hollywood Heritage will host a 90th anniversary celebration of the Chinese Theatre on May 1. Tickets are $20 to $50.

Photo: Mary Pickford in the 1933 Rose Parade. Courtesy of Mary Mallory

Note: This is a 2012 post with a slight update. The 131st Rose Parade is on Wednesday.

Tomorrow sees the 124th annual Tournament of Roses Parade in Pasadena,  welcoming the new year with magnificent garlands of fresh flowers. It also acts as the 80th anniversary of Mary Pickford serving as the first female grand marshal of the parade.

Begun by the Valley Hunt Club in 1890, the Rose Parade saluted the area’s wonderful weather and flowering paradise.Soon, the Tournament of Roses Assn. took over what they now call “America’s New Year Celebration, greeting the world on the first day of the year….”

Photo: A Rose Parade float. Credit: Courtesy of Mary Mallory.

Club presidents chose honorary grand marshals to fit the theme of each year’s parade, usually either past presidents or important civic, cultural and military leaders. This process helped promote the theme, lent prestige and honor to the festivities, and helped publicize the event.

California Gov. James Rolph acted as grand marshal in 1930, retired Maj. Gen. Charles Stewart Farnsworth, an Altadena resident, led the 1931 parade, and William May Garland, president of the 10^th Olympiad Committee, organizing the 1932 Los Angeles Olympics, served as grand marshal in 1932.

The organizing committee bucked precedent in the winter of 1932 by selecting actress Mary Pickford as the grand marshal for the 1933 Rose Parade, the first woman so honored. The Nov. 30, 1932, Los Angeles Times displayed a photo of Pickford receiving an engraved scroll from Dorothy Edwards, the 1933 tournament queen, as her official formal invitation. Pickford’s honor caused a small uproar among those upset that the organization should honor a woman over a man.

“Although the selection of a woman as grand marshal created somewhat of a sensation due to breaking a precedent of more than two score years’ standing, the choice was characterized as especially fitting. The fairyland theme of the pageant has a youthful quality, a quality that ‘Our Mary’ symbolizes on the screen,” as pointed out by a Tournament official to The Times. The designated theme for 1933 saluted “A Book of Fairy Tales in Flowers,” with the parade occurring Monday, Jan. 2, because Jan. 1 fell on a Sunday.

The Dec. 27 edition of the paper noted that Pickford would occupy a coach drawn by four pure-white horses, and decorated with lavender and shell-pink sweet peas, China lilies, and 5,000 pink roses. She would wear a green orchid satin court gown, over which she would wear an early 1870s period coat made of white velvet with matching jacket, muff and hat.

Mary Pickford in a “coach and four,” for the 1933 Rose Parade.

Her guests for the parade included her husband, actor Douglas Fairbanks, as well as Douglas Fairbanks Jr. and Joan Crawford, Mr. and Mrs. Leslie Howard, Mr. and Mrs. Frank Borzage, Gary Cooper, Countess Dorothy Di Frasso, Elsa Maxwell, and her niece, Gwynne Pickford.

The Jan. 3 Los Angeles Times reported that 15,000 rose blossoms trimmed the carriage, and marveled at how the largest parade crowd in history strained forward to see Mary, the most popular entry. The article also noted how beautiful Pickford appeared, and quoted a female spectator as saying, “Is she always going to be this way?”

In 1971, Pasadena Star-News sports editor Joe Hendrickson put together “The Tournament of Roses,” the first fully illustrated history of the 100-year-old organization, describing in detail the history of the football games, parades, and other events surrounding it. He wrote  Pickford to obtain information about her time as grand marshal.

Her husband, Buddy Rogers, replied to Hendrickson on September 13, 1969, writing that Mary had been ill and they were catching up with her correspondence. He read her Hendrickson’s letter, and in turn, was sending back her remembrances of the event.  “Her participation in the Tournament of Roses should have been one of the happiest experiences in her life, but unfortunately, it was one of her saddest days, owing to the fact that her beloved brother, Jack Pickford, was desperately ill and fighting for his life at the very moment. Although her heart was breaking, Mary was waving and smiling to the millions of people.

Her motivation for accepting the role was a complete dedication to California and its people. She was happy to be part of this important pageantry of beauty.”

Mary’s happiness was extremely short-lived however, with her brother Jack entering the American Hospital in Paris on the same day as the parade, and dying on Jan. 3, 1933. He was only 36 years old.

Note: This is an encore post from 2012.

Los Angeles and Hollywood have been the Mecca and Medina of movies, where their acolytes came to worship, work and learn in the teens and 1920s.  After making movies, reverent places of worship were required to view them in style. Broadway in downtown became Los Angeles’ Great White Way, containing elaborate and beautiful film and legitimate theaters that drew thousands.

Most of the major theatrical chains built flagship theatres in downtown Los Angeles, palaces to host film premieres as well as screen their released product.  One of the last to jump on the bandwagon was United Artists, founded in 1919 by Douglas Fairbanks, Charles Chaplin, Mary Pickford, and D. W. Griffith to own and control their films.  Originally releasing only films by its four founders, the studio required films by other major stars to bring in enough revenue to cover production costs.  Major stars such as Gloria Swanson, Rudolph Valentino, Buster Keaton and Norma Talmadge joined the company, as well as producer Samuel Goldwyn, all creating quality film productions.

Production head Joseph Schenck, husband of Norma Talmadge, organized Mary Pickford, Douglas Fairbanks, Sid Grauman and Lee Shubert into forming United Artists Theatre Circuit Inc. in May 1926.  They would build and operate 20 theaters in various states with approximately 1,600 seats each, and charging top prices up to $2 or $2.50.  Grauman would act as president, operating the chain along the lines of his Egyptian Theatre in Hollywood.  That is, each film would have an unique presentation, exclusive long runs, and be opened simultaneously in all United Artists Theatres.

By Nov. 21, 1926, UA announced that it would soon break ground to build its $3-million theater with over 2,200 seats at 9th Street and Broadway in downtown Los Angeles, along with a 12-story office building connected to it.  Both would be constructed in Spanish Gothic style, with the building at the height limit imposed by the city of Los Angeles.

The March 6, 1927, Los Angeles Times reported on the May 5 12:30 groundbreaking for the theater, with Mary Pickford operating a steam shovel that turned over the first earth of the project. Director Fred Niblo acted as master of ceremonies, with Douglas Fairbanks, John Barrymore, Estelle Taylor and Vivian and Rosetta Duncan in attendance.  During his remarks, Fairbanks stated that he hoped the theater “will always be a reminder of the fact that Los Angeles is the center of production of the film industry.”  Because of Doug and Mary’s appearances, the newspaper estimated that more than 5,000 people attended the ceremony.  Also attending were executives from California Petroleum Corp., which had already signed a $3-million 30-year lease on the 12-floor office building.

To achieve its own unique look, United Artists hired Gladding, McBean and Co. to provide 600 tons of polychrome and pulsichrome terra-cotta in a light tan color, unlike anything else in the city.  Architects C. Howard Crane and Walker and Eisen had drawn up the palatial plans.  Supporting the massive structure would be a frame consisting of 2,000 tons of steel.

United Artists wanted to open the theater before the end of 1927, so it was a race by the contractor to try and meet that date.  Men worked 24 hours a day in three eight-hour shifts to accelerate construction.

By November, The Times could report that “The United Artists Theater will be to Los Angeles what the Roxy and the Paramount Theaters are to New York.”  That is, the theater would be one of the most elaborate and sophisticated showplaces on the earth, the perfect place to world premiere United Artists films.  Interestingly, West Coast Theaters, Inc. would manage the facility, under the direction of Harold B. Franklin.  Carli Elinor would leave his position as leader of the Carthay Circle orchestra to headline as musical leader for the planned 60-member orchestra.

Photo: The United Artists Theatre at 9th Street and Broadway, via Google’s Street View.

Edwin Schallert of The Times reported that “The dominant note in the auditorium itself is gold–distant spaces of greenish gold for the ceiling and walls, crystallizing directly overhead in a brilliant sunburst. Aisles are roomy and chairs comfortable…Mural paintings adorn the side walls, depicting film portrayals and personalities.”  In fact, the murals depicted UA talent like Pickford, Fairbanks, Chaplin, Valentino, Barrymore, Swanson, Talmadge, Dolores Del Rio, and D. W. Griffith, along with cameramen and angels with the faces of UA executives.  The journalist noted that Schenck had canceled any prologues or other stage shows before film screenings but approved a fine musical accompaniment.  “Attention will be concentrated on the shadow entertainment.”

The theatre opened to grand fanfare Dec. 26, 1927, premiering Mary Pickford’s film “My Best Girl.”  The Anthony Heinsbergen designed lobby and foyer soared three stories, resembling a Spanish cathedral with a ceiling painted to resemble stained glass.  The stage was not deep, designed exclusively to show films, but featured a wide proscenium arch.  The film theater featured plush, luxurious seats, wider than those in average theaters.  Spacing between rows was also much larger than normal, so that late patrons would not bother others.  A mezzanine directly under the balcony contained no boxes.  Pickford’s private theatre was located under the mezzanine.

John Barrymore performed as master of ceremonies, with Pickford, Fairbanks, Chaplin, Talmadge, Swanson, Griffith, Ronald Colman, and others giving short speeches at the dedication.  Colorful banners and pennants decorated the street, and huge arc light generators illuminated all the sophisticated goings-on.  One microphone was located in the lobby, one in a sound booth, and another on stage, all broadcast by 20 loudspeakers along Broadway.  Announcer Freeman Lang would pick up the program on his long-wave length mobile set and then it would be rebroadcast over KPLA Los Angeles and KTA San Francisco, starting at 7 p.m. and lasting until 8:30 pm. Before the feature, a short about New York screened along with a color film called “Comrades.”  The orchestra was supported by a chorus singing from off-stage, and a Maxfield Parrish-like setting functioned as tableau during the evening.  At the conclusion of the feature, the audience saw film shot of the stars arriving at the premiere.

Within nine months, prologues and other entertainment returned.  The theater remained as UA’s flagship for the next couple of decades, but gradually saw decline in attendance and care.  Wide-screen processes were added in the 1950s to draw audiences to the next big thing, and the mezzanine was removed to create a new projection booth.  By the 1970s Metropolitan Theatres owned it, and soon it became a strictly Spanish-language theatre.  Dr. Gene Scott and his Los Angeles University Cathedral congregation moved in during 1989, actually improving the theater’s condition.  The church group restored and carefully maintained the structure.  Scott died in 2005 and his widow carried on until putting it up for sale in 2010.  Greenfield Partners of Connecticut purchased it in the fall of 2011, announced that they would convert the office tower into the boutique Ace Hotel.