These Oldies Aren’t Goodies: April 16-30, 1923

It seems like Mary Miles Minter’s career hadn’t been tarnished by her involvement with the 1922 Taylor murder scandal yet—nobody mentioned it when they reviewed the film

One hundred years ago this month, Grace Kingsley had a run of bad luck in movie theaters, seeing recycled and old-fashioned stories. After managing to stay awake through The Trail of the Lonesome Pine, she wrote:

It is tedious to watch on the screen the unwinding of a tale of which you know the end from the beginning. And how much worse to watch the unwinding of a tale that is worse on the screen than it was on the stage or in the novel!

The yarn about the feud of the Tollivers and the Falins is a good enough one, but it is like all Kentucky moonshiners feud yarns. More blood flows than the stockyards can show!…And how silly and theatrical the scene in which June Tolliver lines up the opposing feudists up and delivers a Chautauqua lecture on the beauties of brotherhood, whereas the two clans kiss and make up.

At least the movie wasn’t the only thing on the bill. Kingsley said, “The trail to The Trail of the Lonesome Pine would be a lonesome trail indeed if it weren’t for the super-excellent showmanship Sid Grauman discloses in his presentations of his Russian dancers, his symphony orchestra, and the other pictureless features.”

Other reviewers weren’t enthusiastic about it either; Film Daily called it merely “satisfactory” and lacking in suspense while Exhibitors’ Trade Review thought that everybody’s familiarity with the plot would be a selling point.

Pine wasn’t her only disappointing trip to the theater these weeks. Earlier she felt absolutely no nostalgia for a story from her youth:

Bertha M. Clay* is merely a state of mind! The state of mind of the 15-year-olds of late Victorian era, and of many scenario writers. You realize that when you see Thorns and Orange Blossoms from the Clay opus, which is showing down at Loews this week. Bertha worked with a regular set of puppets. They were always in her (or is it his?) tales the very, very good blonde, and the very, very bad brunette, and the man they both loved. So much I remember from my salad and under the sofa cushion library days.

Estelle Taylor played the bad brunette who tries to steal the beau of the good blonde, Edith Roberts.

Kingsley no longer had any time for this sort of plot, saying the bad girl: “must have been awfully naïve to think that after she put the poor man in jail by pretending he had taken a shot at her, he would flee with her to Spain, especially when he had a girl of his own over whom they had been quarrelling! But that wasn’t any more naïve than the fact that the bad brunette’s confession that she had lied on oath about the shooting brought forth no punishment from the courts!”

Film Daily agreed that the movie was pretty terrible, saying “the story is much too improbable and unconvincing to furnish entertainment for those who demand strong, original stories with reasonable situations,” but they thought that women like Kingsley would still like it, because they “will easily grasp that the title has something to do with marriage and that is probably the most absorbing topic for your women patrons.” Grace Kingsley proved them wrong!

However, the movie did give her a chance to reflect on how things had changed by 1920’s: “by the way, it is something of a commentary on the change in viewpoint that, whereas the late Victorian parent sternly forbade Bertha M. Clay as demoralizing, the Clay story material is now being used because it’s so wholesome!”

Nevertheless, she concluded that the film wasn’t completely worthless:

Oh, but what’s the use? You’ll get some giggles out of Thorns and Orange Blossoms, as well as renewing the days when you placed Bertha M. Clay inside your geography.

It’s a fine line between giving audiences plots they are familiar enough with that they’ll take a chance on buying a ticket, but not so worn-out that they’ve seen it too many times. Luckily this was just a temporary lull in movies worth seeing (only one of Robert Sherwood’s best films of 1922-23 was even in the theaters then, The Covered Wagon). That year, Kingsley could look forward to films we’re still watching like Safety Last, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, and Our Hospitality.

And she did offer a helpful suggestion for what might replace some of the awful stuff she’d been seeing:

Yet there must be a world of entertaining film material in foreign lands, in the magic empires of nature and science, and that people are hungering and thirsting for that sort of thing is shown in the way the crowds surge to see the Hunting Big Game features, Nanook of the North, Down to the Sea in Ships, Wonders of the Sea and the few others that producers have had the good sense to make.

Also this month, Kingsley got around to mentioning a story she’d left to other reporters before:

Are Pola Negri and Charlie Chaplin to be wed within the next month? This question is agitating the film colony and the picture fans. It would seem quite likely that they are to marry as soon as that. The fact that both have finished their current pictures and both have announced that they are “going away for a rest” would seem to bear out the presumption that marriage bells are shortly to ring out for the two. Moreover, Miss Negri refuses to disclose her resting place.

This was the top story on November 25, 1922!

It might seem odd that two actors having vacations at the same time would be enough to inspire marriage rumors, but the Times had been covering this roller-coaster love story enthusiastically for several months. It began in late November with a surprisingly long front-page above the fold story called “Pola Negri-Chaplin Romance Stirs Hollywood,” in which Chaplin refusing to confirm or deny that they were engaged was taken as confirmation they would soon get married. Negri refused say anything at all to reporters. According to the article, gossip had been all over the studios for the past three weeks. The following day reporters tracked down Chaplin’s ex-wife Mildred Harris for a comment, and she said she only wished he’d “find somebody who’d make him happy.” In December the Times printed speculation that they’d marry in January, and in January they reported that the pair had quarreled and reconciled.

The happy couple announcing their engagement

Then on January 28th the couple met the press and announced their betrothal. Times writer H. B. K. Willis pointed out that “no other romance, not even the reported engagement of the Prince of Wales, has so held public interest for the last two months.” No wedding date had been set. Then on March 1st Negri broke the engagement after Chaplin told the press he was too poor to marry her, and she responded with a statement that she was indeed too poor to marry him, and he should have no trouble finding a wealthy woman in the United States.  They reconciled that night after he apologized in person. In early March, Negri had done an interview with Kingsley to publicize her film Bella Donna in which she absolutely refused to talk about Chaplin, except when she let slip that she’d been playing golf (badly) with Charlie. She did say she was perfectly happy in both her public and private life. Kingsley concluded from that “so Charlie has been behaving himself in a manner entirely in keeping with being the fiancé of the world’s most famous tragedy queen.” In late March Negri denied rumors that they’d be married in April, and her secretary said the wedding wouldn’t for at least six months.

News in the Times quieted down after Kingsley’s story about an immanent wedding in April. In mid-May Alma Whitaker concluded that the marriage would be a big mistake for both of them; despite his many charms, Chaplin was too coldly intellectual to be the sort of adoring husband Negri needed – in fact, he seemed to belittle her in public. Then in July the romance was officially dead when Negri was seen with tennis star Bill Tilden and she told reporters she’d broken up with Chaplin five weeks earlier, because he was too temperamental. They both went on to many more relationships.

Things were so quiet in early 1923 that the newspaper had plenty of room to publish this. Moreover, wild supposition about movie stars’ private lives has been a big part of news from Hollywood since the beginning.

*Bertha M. Clay (real name: Charlotte Mary Brame, 1836-1884) was an immensely popular writer. Her books sold so many copies that after her death, not only did her daughter take over writing under the pseudonym, another publisher hired a bunch of male writers to use the name.

 

“Lavish Production to Famous Old Story,” Film Daily, November 22, 1922, p. 3.

“Romance Foremost in Famous Second Adaptation of Lonesome Pine,” Film Daily, March 23, 1923, p. 13.

The Trail of the Lonesome Pine,” Exhibitors’ Trade Review, March 31, 1923, p. 915.

“Charlie Chaplin and Pola Negri are Separated,” Los Angeles Times, January 17, 1923.

“Mildred Hopes He’ll Be Happy,” Los Angeles Times, November 26, 1922.

“Negri and Chaplin to Wed Soon.” Los Angeles Times, December 12, 1922.

“Negri-Chaplin Date Set,” Los Angeles Times, December 8, 1922.

“Negri-Chaplin Date Unnamed,” Los Angeles Times, March 27, 1923.

“Pola Ends Betrothal; Charlie Mends Break,” Los Angeles Times, March 2, 1923.

“Pola Negri-Chaplin Romance Stirs Hollywood,” Los Angeles Times, November 25, 1922.

Alma Whitaker, “Heart and Mind in Grim Battle,” Los Angeles Times, May 13, 1923.

H. B. K. Willis, “Chaplin’s Betrothal to Negri Announced,” Los Angeles Times, January 29, 1923.

H. B. K. Willis, “Pola Drops ‘Sharlie,’” Los Angeles Times, July 28, 1923.

H. B. K. Willis, “Tryst Ends for ‘Charlie’” Los Angeles Times, January 30, 1923.

Tutmania Comes to Hollywood: April 1-15, 1923

Betty Compson had a whole turquoise blue outfit designed by Ethel Chaffin.

One hundred years ago this month, Grace Kingsley reported on a brand-new fad: all things King Tut. Jewelry, clothes and hats inspired by what had been recently found in his tomb were the latest thing for young actresses. She pointed out a pitfall in wearing things you know very little about:

That is, her clothes and jewelry are ornamented with King Tutankhamun symbols. And some of those symbols oh, tut, tut! It is said they would make the most confirmed Egyptologist blush! But the flapper doesn’t know what they mean, so she should worry. 

Dear old King Tut, in all his majesty, never dreamed of what frivolous uses his praises to Isis would be put to. Wouldn’t he just be annoyed to find his most sacred and dignified symbols covering the frivolous bosom of the flapper or resting saucily on her head?

Then again, maybe the hieroglyphics adorning the young ladies were just grain reports, and “wouldn’t a fashionable flapper be mad if she thought that the rich, gay, saucy looking jacquette from Paris which she is wearing bore such a hayseed record as that?”

Carmel Myers had designed a “smart King Tut dress” to play tennis in.

Kingsley also mentioned that interest in him was so recent, that “nobody can pronounce King Tutankhamun’s name. Tut-Come-On is the nearest we can come to it.” It’s odd to remember that there was a time when his name wasn’t common knowledge.

There were more expensive items inspired by the find, like this Cartier diamond brooch.

There was already some interest in ancient Egypt locally before the find; Sid Grauman’s Egyptian Theater in Hollywood had opened in the previous October. But fascination with Tut was like nothing else before, because when Howard Carter looked through the peephole into the tomb’s antechamber on November 4, 1922, he saw the first Egyptian ruler’s burial place to be found that (for the most part) hadn’t been disturbed since its burial. He telegraphed his patron, the Earl of Carnavon, and waited to explore further until he arrived from London on November 23, 1922. The workers started clearing debris from around the entrance, and on November 26th they reached a sealed doorway. They unsealed it and Carter had a look. Carter later wrote, “At first I could see nothing, the hot air escaping from the chamber causing the candle flame to flicker, but presently, as my eyes grew accustomed to the light, details of the room within emerged slowly from the mist, strange animals, statues, and gold – everywhere the glint of gold.”

The antechamber, 1922

News of the find didn’t break right away. Carnarvon gave a press conference in London on December 23th and he told the world about the “wealth of jewels and gold and historical treasure that almost baffles his powers of description.” The L.A. Times’ report on it ran in the middle of its second section, but that didn’t last for long: later reports were front-page news. Tutmania was about to begin.

On January 22, 1923 the Times started running a series of articles by British journalist H.V. Morton, who traveled to Egypt to report on the opening of the tomb. He cabled his reports to newspapers around the world.

On February 15th, Morton began his reports from the scene with descriptions of tourists picnicking in the August-like heat, “the tawny hillsides for miles around are dotted with exhausted damsels and shaken matrons feebly waving fly whisks and wearing blue sun goggles.” They were occasionally rewarded by the sight of items being removed, like the “golden-legged, lion-headed couch certainly one of the most beautiful objects taken from the tomb.”

Detail from the lion bed

February 16, 1923 was the official opening of the burial chamber, with government officials attending. Morton wasn’t among the 20 people allowed in then. When they came out, they said they were awestruck by the gold sarcophagus and the wall paintings of the gods that were “bright as new.” There was so much in there that there was no room to walk in.

Here’s how Ted Gale imagined the scene, in an L.A. Times front-page cartoon to accompany the story on the 17th.

They took a one day break, then on February 18th they allowed the press and the public in. Morton set the scene, saying “today it was a social occasion. Women in filmy summer dresses in the blazing sunshine holding gaily colored parasols and men in flannels busy with luncheon baskets.” Then he described what he saw:

 inside were the King’s jewels, sparkling in the electric lights as if awakened after centuries to show their beauty…Most bewildering is the second chamber, with its confusion of articles necessary for the welfare of the royal soul in the other world. Gilded chariots stand as if the horses had just been unyoked and taken to the stables.

One of King Tut’s pieces of jewelry

The following day the archeologists announced plans to close up the tomb on the 26th, and continue the next season. Work went on at the site for several years.

Tutmania struck fairly quickly–Kingsley’s article on the trend was less than two months after that. Of course, it wasn’t only in Hollywood: on March 31st the trade paper Camera had reported:

everything in New York is Egyptian, the influence being exerted on civilization by the discover of King Tut-ankh-amen’s tomb. Leading theatrical producers are planning Egyptian shows, designers are making dresses that look like the bottom of the Nile and which give our slim citizens an opportunity to look more like a meridian of longitude.

Fox brought this non-fiction film out first.
This one was advertised in early May, but I couldn’t find any evidence that it got released.
The first fiction feature about him, released on a states-rights basis on July 1st

Hollywood quickly jumped on the bandwagon and made Tut-inspired movies. The first was a one-reel nonfiction film called The Land of Tut-Ankh-Amen from Fox that included scenes of the Egyptian countryside, well-known ruins, and footage of the uncovered tomb as well as scenes of Museum of Natural History workers on the job.  It came out in early June. It was quickly followed by King Tut-Ankh-Amen’s Eighth Wife released on July 1 and sold on a states-rights basis. The trade papers didn’t bother to review it.

However, the biggest film of this sort began production with the title King Tut-Ankh-Amen. It starred Carmel Myers of the tennis dress above and Kingsley got to visit its set. After reporting that they were using matte paintings instead of scenery (and explaining how that worked), she told about the exciting scene that was being filmed: Carmel Myers dancing with a leopard.

Carmel dances. She whirls closer and closer to the beast. He strikes at her; his claw grazes her whirling garments, but somehow doesn’t catch. How she does it I don’t know—but she keeps on smiling bravely and finishes the dance. “Well, that was thrill enough for me!” she cries as she snatches up her coat to put around her. “No more circus scenes for me, I hope!”

Kingsley mentioned that the following day, Myers was going to be rescued from crocodiles and she observed that “every ancient picture nowadays is more or less a zoo opus—in addition there would be camels, elephants and a lion or two.”

Even the early ads were more about its production values than Tut

Unfortunately for the film, Tutmania didn’t last long enough. By the time the movie came out in October, they decided to change the name to The Dancer of the Nile and barely mentioned the pharoah in the advertising. Film Daily gave the plot: it “deals with the loves and hates of an Egyptian princess” who gets together with Tut at the end. However, it wasn’t just boredom with Tut that made Dancer less successful than they would have liked: it was a crummy movie. Film Daily’s review was scathing, saying, “Egyptian setting may serve to hold their attention although theme never warrants the trouble they have gone to to make the production; not likely to be taken seriously. A poor entertainment on the whole…A lot of things in this that are more than likely to be laughed at.”

In December the studio decided to change that ad campaign, and to include even less about Egypt or Tut.

The backlash against had Tutmania was evident elsewhere; Motion Picture Magazine reported on a new policy on Buster Keaton’s set for The Three Ages:

 Five dollar fine for any employee of this studio who springs a joke on King Tut, former Egyptian who was recently disinterred…We want genuine laughs around the studio, not Tut titterings.

However, unlike most fads that die quickly, this one comes back periodically. According to a recent article in the New Yorker called “Why King Tut is Still Facinating,” this one is here again.

He’s still popular: just over in Culver City is an Egyptian restaurant, Tut’s Grill. I recommend the macarona bechamel.

Howard Carter and A.C. Mace, The Tomb of Tut.ankh.Amen, Volume I: Search, Discovery and Clearance of the Antechamber. London: Duckworth, 1923.

“The Dancer of the Nile,” Film Daily, November 18, 1923, p. 12

“From the Editorial Observatory,” Camera, March 17, 1923, p. 2.

“Greenroom Jottings,” Motion Picture Magazine, August 1923, p. 82.

“King Tut in Hollywood,” Screenland, July 1923, p. 78.

H.V. Morton, “Amazing Finds are Reported in Tombs of Ancient Egypt,” Los Angeles Times, January 22, 1923.

H.V. Morton, “King’s Body Unharmed,” Los Angeles Times, February 19, 1923.

H.V. Morton, “Amazing Finds are Reported in Tombs of Ancient Egypt,” Los Angeles Times, January 22, 1923.

H.V. Morton, “Peeping Rumor Excites Luxor,” Los Angeles Times, February 15, 1923.

H.V. Morton, “To Seal Pharaoh’s Tomb,” Los Angeles Times, February 20, 1923.

H.V. Morton, “Tomb Holds Vast Prize,” Los Angeles Times, February 18, 1923.

H.V. Morton, “Tomb Open at Luxor,” Los Angeles Times, February 17, 1923.

“New From New York,” Camera, March 31, 1923, p. 22.

“Short Subjects,” Film Daily, June 3, 1923, p. 56.

“Treasures of Pharoah Dazzle Discoverers,” Los Angeles Times, December 24, 1922.