In Theda Bara's Tent (as Reviewed by Publisher's Weekly)

CHAPTER FIVE

A few years later, when the wooden stables on Merrimack Street came up for sale, Louie and two investors bought them. They constructed one of the largest theaters in New England, the fifteen-hundred seat Colonial for movies and vaudeville. The Colonial was important enough to have its program listed in New York trade journals. It was an opulent show palace, marble staircase to the balcony, paintings in rococo gold frames. Louies favorite was a recumbent lion in profile. A stuffed moose’s head protruded over the door to the auditorium. The mayor and other prominent citizens attended opening night and made speeches about Haverhills industrial growth. To wild applause, Louie marched onto the stage as the orchestra played Hail to the Chief. In his speech, he said, The Colonial is the zenith of my ambitions.

A full orchestra accompanied every movie while a sound-effects man stood behind a screen clanging bells, slamming doors, galloping horses, popping Champagne corks, firing guns. We never thought of our movies as silent. They weren’t.

The biggest names in vaudeville came to the Colonial: dancer Bill “Bojangles” Robinson, singer Eva Tanguay, Hardeen the Handcuff King who escaped from the Crazy Crib—a crate used to confine lunatics in asylums. Gertrude Hoffman, the dancer, earned $3,000 per week. J. Robert Pauline, the hypnotist, earned $2,000 per week. The salaries were mentioned in The Gazette so audiences understood that Louie was bringing them something special.

In eighth grade, I joined the staff of The Thinker, the school newspaper. I made up a job called entertainment editor and wrote a column entitled Dont Applaud, Just Throw Money. My pieces about each female entertainer began Miss So-and-So never looked lovelier... followed by a description of her clothes, in a cunning hat and a light opera cape from her varied wardrobe,” words copied directly from the press release that accompanied each film tin.

 None of the stars would talk to a schoolboy except for Jimmy Durante. He was not yet the famous “Schnozzola” and was still performing at Diamond Tonys in Coney Island. Wearing a silk bathrobe that exposed thin, white legs and socks held up by garters, he spoke to me while I took down his words as fast as I could. Every time I went down the street, Id hear, ‘Lookit, the big-nose kid!’ And when anybodyd stare, Id just sneak off. Even if they said nothin, nothin at all, Id shrivel up and think they was sayin, ‘What an ugly kid! What a monster!’  And then Id go home and cry. Even when I am makin a fortune on account of the big beak, and while I am out there on the stage laughin and kiddin about the nose, at no time was I ever happy about it.

The title of my interview with Durante was I Dont Want Nobody to Put Me on a Pedasill. After it was published, a kid in sixth grade with a gigantic nose showed me a letter he had written and wanted me to send to Durante. Ive got a big nose, Mr. Durante. Everybody laughs at it. But then I saw you at the Colonial, and you kept laughing about your nose. That made me feel good all over. By then Durante had finished his run. I managed to find out where he was performing and forwarded the letter to him. I dont know if he ever received it, but after that heartfelt encounter with the sixth-grader, I felt as if I was contributing to the greater good.

When describing female photoplayers, I only wrote about their clothes. I didn’t really know burlap from linen. Movie stars were responsible for their own wardrobes, so women in the audience were really seeing the personal taste of their idols. One of the most popular fashion icons was fifteen-year-old Anita Stewart, employed by Vitagraph, a major studio in Brooklyn. All across America, little girls, Louies included, were cutting out Anita Stewart paper dolls.

When Louie showed one of her films at the Colonial, I wrote a review. Miss Stewart wore an attractive bathing cloak in the beach scene where she posed on the sands. In the parlor scene, she looked very striking in a cloak of ermine tied shawl fashion ’round her shoulders. One frock worn was of silk lace, embroidered with daisies. A one-piece dress of blue serge with a cape effect was very smart. Anita Stewart stands second to none in popularity among the moving-picture stars. She is a true daughter of the films, for unlike most of her rivals, she has never appeared in the spoken drama.