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

CHAPTER EIGHT

To the sound of wild cheering, I was carried along by the crowd to Tremont Street, where I ducked into the entrance of a building to get out of the way of a troop of Boy Scouts. While I waited for them to pass by, I perused the names on the building directory and saw one that had the word film in it. I decided to investigate and climbed three flights to a closed door that was lettered “American Feature Film Company.”  When no one responded to my knock, I walked into a tiny office with a view of a brick air shaft. A no-nonsense woman in a blouse buttoned up to her chin was sitting behind a desk typing. She took me in at a glance but did not stop typing. A mans voice from the adjoining room called through a closed door, You got it done yet, Fanny?

Hold your horses, she called back.

The door to the adjoining room opened and out came a man who looked exactly like Louie Mayer. Dont forget to say its a sure thing. He cant lose. Say that, Fanny. Dont forget to say Metros a sure bet. He flicked his eyes toward me as he strode back to his own office in that choppy way of his.

Louie?

He turned and waited for me to state my business. Suddenly his face changed. Harry? We ran to each other and hugged for a long time. I’m not sure I’ve ever hugged anyone as hard as I hugged Louie then. “Is it really you? he said, setting me away, looking at me, then clasping me again. When he let me go, he took off his glasses, wiped his eyes and said, Fanny. Call Maggie. Tell her I found Harry. He clasped me again. “Here,” Louie said to Fanny, “is the son I never had.”  Then he said to me, I imagined all kinds of things. He took out his handkerchief and loudly blew his nose.

Dont blow your nose like that, Fanny said. Its not good for the sinus passages. God didnt mean you to blast your delicate membranes like a fog horn.

    I went to the school, Louie said, touching my arm, my cheek. None of them knew. He blew his nose more softly and stuffed his handkerchief back in his pocket. How can they lose a boy? This is the question I asked them. How can you lose a boy? How can that be possible? You grew. Youre a man. Fanny, look at him. Taller than me. The telephone on Fannys desk jangled. If thats Lasky, Louie said, tell him the checks in the mail.

You tell him, Fanny said. Im tired of saying that. She lifted the receiver and said in an entirely different voice, cheerful as spring robins hopping on the lawn, Good afternoon.  American Feature Film Company. She listened. Thank you. One moment please. She clamped her palm over the mouthpiece and whispered, Its that Kinetophone salesman again.

Louie made a dismissive hand flap, and I followed him into a small office. I noted an oak desk, a swivel chair, theater programs, movie posters and a photograph of Louie’s mother, the frame draped in black. Have a seat. He gestured to an elderly wingchair in front of his desk. He sat behind his desk and swiveled right and left slowly. You ask whats been going on with me. Ill tell you. I own not only the Colonial and the Orpheum but also the Academy of Music. Im the biggest entertainment person in the whole city. None can compare. I have my brother Jerry managing the Colonial. The Cozy Nickel burned down in a mysterious way, and I have the former manager looking after the Academy of Music for me. Maggie says to me, ‘Why isnt this enough? Why cant you be satisfied?’ I dont know the answer. Its a drive I got deep in my heart, he pounded his heart with his fist. It says do more, more, more. I dont sleep. Im up all night thinking, plotting.

What is this place, Louie?

Distribution. Jesse Laskys making feature-length pictures, and I got the exclusive right to distribute them in New England. Im in the right place at the right time. Tell me about yourself. He swiveled around, looked up at the portrait of his mother and said to the image, See who’s come back, Ma? Didnt you say not to worry? He swiveled to face me, took a cigar from his breast pocket, put it in his mouth, showed me a strange little device and said, Watch this. He scratched a metal rod that ignited a wick soaked in fuel, and a flame shot up. He lowered his cigar tip into the flame and puffed. See?” he asked, as smoke leaked out of his mouth. “See that?”