merton of the movies-第21章

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easure　was　in　every　eye；　yet　one　felt　that　the　blight　of　Broadway　was　real。

The　camera　was　wheeled　forward　and　Merton　Gill　joyously　quit　smoking　while　Henshaw　secured　flashes　of　various　groups；　chiefly　of　losers　who　were　seeing　the　hollowness　of　it　all。　He　did　not；　however；　disdain　a　bit　of　comedy。

〃Miss　Montague。〃

〃Yes；　Mr。　Henshaw。〃　The　Montague　girl　paused　in　the　act　of　sprinkling　chips　over　a　roulette　lay…out。

〃Your　escort　has　lost　all　his　chips　and　you've　lost　all　he　bought　for　you〃

The　girl　and　her　escort　passed　to　other　players　the　chips　before　them；　and　waited。

〃Your　escort　takes　out　his　wallet；　shows　it　to　you　empty；　and　shrugs　his　shoulders。　You　shrug；　too；　but　turn　your　back　on　him；　facing　the　camera；　and　take　some　bills　out　of　your　stockingsee　what　I　mean？　Give　her　some　bills；　someone。〃

〃Never　mind；　Mr。　Henshaw；　I　already　got　some　there。〃　The　pantomime　was　done；　the　girl　turned；　stooped；　withdrew　flattened　bills　from　one　of　the　salmon…pink　stockings　and　flourished　them　at　her　escort　who　achieved　a　transition　from　gloom　to　joy。　Merton　Gill；　observing　this　shameless　procedure；　plumbed　the　nether　depths　of　disgust　for　Broadway's　night　life。

The　camera　was　now　wheeled　toward　him　and　he　wearily　lighted　another　cigarette。　〃Get　a　flash　of　this　chap；〃　Henshaw　was　saying。　The　subject　leaned　forward　in　his　chair；　gazing　with　cynical　eyes　at　the　fevered　throng。　Wine；　women；　song；　all　had　palled。　Gambling　had　no　charmhe　looked　with　disrelish　at　the　cigarette　he　had　but　just　lighted。

〃All　right；　Paul；　that's　good。　Now　get　that　bunch　over　at　the　crap　table。〃

Merton　Gill　lost　no　time　in　relinquishing　his　cigarette。　He　dropped　it　into　the　wine　glass　which　became　a　symbol　of　Broadway's　dead…sea　fruit。　Thereafter　he　smoked　only　when　he　was　in　the　picture。　He　felt　that　he　was　becoming　screen　wise。　And　Henshaw　had　remembered　him。　The　cast　of　The　Blight　of　Broadway　might　not　be　jewelled　with　his　name；　but　his　work　would　stand　out。　He　had　given　the　best　that　was　in　him。

He　watched　the　entrance　of　Muriel　Mercer；　maddest　of　all　the　mad　throng；　accompanied　by　the　two　young　men　and　the　girl　who　was　not　so　beautiful。　He　watched　her　lose　steadily；　and　saw　her　string　of　pearls　saved　by　the　elderly　scoundrel　who　had　long　watched　the　beautiful　girl　as　only　the　Wolf　of　Wall　Street　could　watch　one　so　fair。　He　saw　her　leave　upon　his　arm；　perhaps　for　further　unwholesome　adventure　along　Broadway。　The　lights　were　out；　the　revelry　done。

Merton　Gill　beyond　a　doubt　preferred　Western　stuff；　some　heart…　gripping　tale　of　the　open　spaces；　or　perhaps　of　the　frozen　north；　where　he　could　be　the　hard…riding；　straight…shooting；　two…fisted　wonder…man；　and　not　have　to　smoke　so　many　cigarettesonly　one　now　and　then；　which　he　would　roll　himself　and　toss　away　after　a　few　puffs。　Still；　he　had　shown　above　the　mob　of　extra　people；　he　thought。　Henshaw　had　noticed　him。　He　was　coming　on。

The　Montague　girl　hailed　him　as　he　left　the　set。　〃Hullo；　old　trouper。　I　caught　you　actin'　again　to…day；　right　out　before　the　white　folks。　Well；　so　far　so　good。　But　say；　I'm　glad　all　that　roulette　and　stuff　was　for　the　up…and…down　stage　and　not　on　the　level。　I'd　certainly　have　lost　everything　but　my　make…up。　So　long；　Kid！〃　She　danced　off　to　join　a　group　of　other　women　who　were　leaving。　He　felt　a　kindly　pity　for　the　child。　There　could　be　little　future　in　this　difficult　art　for　one　who　took　it　so　lightly；　who　talked　so　frankly　to　strangers　without　being　introduced。

At　luncheon　in　the　cafeteria　he　waited　a　long　time　in　the　hope　of　encountering　Henshaw；　who　would　perhaps　command　his　further　services　in　the　cause　of　creative　screen　art。　He　meant　to　be　animated　at　this　meeting；　to　show　the　director　that　he　could　be　something　more　than　an　actor　who　had　probed　the　shams　of　Broadway。　But　he　lingered　in　vain。　He　thought　Henshaw　would　perhaps　be　doing　without　food　in　order　to　work　on　the　scenario　for　Robinson　Crusoe；　Junior。

He　again　stopped　to　thank　his　friend；　the　casting　director；　for　securing　him　his　first　chance。　She　accepted　his　thanks　smilingly；　and　asked　him　to　drop　around　often。　〃Mind；　you　don't　forget　our　number；〃　she　said。

He　was　on　the　point　of　making　her　understand　once　for　all　that　he　would　not　forget　the　number；　that　he　would　never　forget　Gashwiler's　address；　that　he　had　been　coming　to　this　studio　too　often　to　forget　its　location。　But　someone　engaged　her　at　the　window；　so　he　was　obliged　to　go　on　without　enlightening　the　woman。　She　seemed　to　be　curiously　dense。




CHAPTER　VII

〃NOTHING　TO…DAY；　DEAR！〃


The　savings　had　been　opportunely　replenished。　In　two　days　he　had　accumulated　a　sum　for　which；　back　in　Simsbury；　he　would　have　had　to　toil　a　week。　Yet　there　was　to　be　said　in　favour　of　the　Simsbury　position　that　it　steadily　endured。　Each　week　brought　its　fifteen　dollars；　pittance　though　it　might　be；　while　the　art　of　the　silver　screen　was　capricious　in　its　rewards；　not　to　say　jumpy。　Never；　for　weeks　at　a　stretch；　had　Gashwiler　said　with　a　tired　smile；　〃Nothing　to…daysorry！〃　He　might　have　been　a　grouch　and　given　to　unreasonable　nagging；　but　with　him　there　was　always　a　very　definite　something　to…day　which　he　would　specify；　in　short　words　if　the　occasion　seemed　to　demand。　There　was　not　only　a　definite　something　every　day　but　a　definite　if　not　considerable　sum　of　money　to　be　paid　over　every　Saturday　night；　and　in　the　meantime　three　very　definite　and　quite　satisfying　meals　to　be　freely　partaken　of　at　stated　hours　each　day。

The　leisure　enforced　by　truly　creative　screen　art　was　often　occupied　now　with　really　moving　pictures　of　Metta　Judson　placing　practicable　food　upon　the　Gashwiler　table。　This　had　been　no　table　in　a　gilded　Broadway　resort；　holding　empty　coffee　cups　and　half　empty　wine　glasses；　passed　and　repassed　by　apparently　busy　waiters　with　laden　trays　who　never　left　anything　of　a　practicable　nature。　Doubtless　the　set　would　not　have　appealed　to　Henshaw。　He　would　never　have　been　moved　to　take　close…ups；　even　for　mere　flashes；　of　those　who　ate　this　food。　And　yet；　more　and　more　as　the　days　went　by；　this　old…time　film　would　unreel　itself　before　the　eager　eyes　of　Merton　Gill。　Often　now　it　thrilled　him　as　might　have　an　installment　of　The　Hazards　of　Hortense；　for　the　food　of　his　favourite　pharmacy　was　beginning　to　pall　and　Metta　Judson；　though　giving　her　shallow　mind　to　base　village　gossip；　was　a　good　cook。　She　became　the　adored　heroine　of　an　apparently　endless　serial　to　be　entitled　The　Hazards　of　Clifford　Armytage；　in　which　the　hero　had　tragically　little　to　do　but　sit　upon　a　bench　and　wait　while　tempting　repasts　were　served。

Sometimes　on　the　little　bench　around　the　eucalyptus　tree　he　would　run　an　entire　five…thousand…foot　program　feature；　beginning　with　the　Sunday　midday　dinner　of　roast　chicken；　and　abounding　in　tense　dramatic　moments　such　as　corned…beef　and　cabbage　on　Tuesday　night；　and　corned…beef　hash　on　Wednesday　morning。　He　would　pause　to　take　superb　closeups　of　these；　the　corned　beef　on　its　spreading　platter　hemmed　about　with　boiled　potatoes　and　turnips　and　cabbage；　and　the　corned　beef　hash　with　its　richly　browned　surface。　The　thrilling　climax　would　be　the　roast　of　beef　on　Saturday　night；　with　close…ups　taken　in　the　very　eye　of　the　camera；　of　the　mashed　potatoes　and　the　apple　pie　drenched　with　cream。　And　there　were　close…ups　of　Metta　Judson；　who　had　never　seriously　contemplated　a　screen　career；　placing　upon　the　table　a　tower　of　steaming　hot　cakes；　while　a　platter　of　small　sausages　loomed　eloquently　in　the　foreground。

With　eyes　closed　he　would　run　this　film　again　and　again；　cutting　here；　rearranging　sequences；　adding　trims　from　suddenly　remembered　meals　of　the　dead　past；　devising　more　intimate　close…ups；　such　as　the　one　of　Metta　withdrawing　pies　from　the　oven　or　smoothing　hot　chocolate　caressingly　over　the　top　of　a　giant　cake；　or　broiling　chops；　or　saying　in　a　large…lettered　subtitleartistically　decorated　with　cooked　foods〃How　about　some　hot　coffee；　Merton？〃

He　became　an　able　producer　of　this　drama。　He　devised　a　hundred　sympathetic　little　touches　that　Henshaw　would　probably　never　have　thought　of。　He　used　footage　on　a　mere　platter　of　steak　that　another　director　might　have　ignored　utterly。　He　made　it　grippingthe　supreme　heart…interest　drama　of　his　season　a　big　thing　done　in　a　big　way；　and　yet　censor…proof。　Not　even　the　white…souled　censors　of　the　great　state　of　Pennsylvania　could　have　outlawed　its　realism；　brutal　though　this　was　in　such　great　moments　as　when　Gashwiler　carved　the　roast　beef。　So　able　was　his　artistry　that　Merton's　nostrils　would　sometimes　betray　himhe　could　swear　they　caught　rich　aromas　from　that　distant　board。

Not　only　had　the　fare　purveyed　by　his　favourite　pharmacy　put　a　blight　upon　him　equal　to　Broadway's　blight；　but　even　of　this　tasteless　stuff　he　must　be　cautious　in　his　buying。　A　sandwich；　not　too　meaty　at　the　centre；　coffee　tasting　strangely　of　other　things　sold　in　a　pharmacy；　a　segment　of　pie　fairseeming　on　its　surface；　but　lacking　the　punch；　as　he　put　it；　of　Metta　Judson's　pie；　a　standardized；　factory…made；　altogether　formal　and　perfunctory　pie　these　were　the　meagre　items　of　his　accustomed　luncheon　and　dinner。

He　had　abandoned　breakfast；　partly　because　it　cost　money　and　partly　because　a　gentleman　in　eastern　Ohio　had　recently　celebrated　his　hundred　and　third　birthday　by　reason；　so　he　confided　to　the　press；　of　having　always　breakfasted　upon　a　glass　of　clear　cold　water。　Probably　ham　and　eggs　or　cornedbeef　hash　would　have　cut　him　off　at　ninety；　and　water　from　the　tap　in　the　Patterson　kitchen　was　both　clear　and　cold。　It　was　not　so　much　that　he　cared　to　live　beyond　ninety　or　so；　but　he　wished　to　survive　until　things　began　to　pick　up　on　the　Holden　lot；　and　if　this　did　bring　him　many　more　years；　well　and　good。　Further；　if　the　woman　in　the　casting　office　persisted；　as　she　had　for　ten　days；　in　saying　〃Nothing　yet〃　to　inquiring　screen　artists；　he　might　be　compelled　to　intensify　the　regime　of　the　Ohio　centenarian。　Perhaps　a　glass　of　clear　cold　water　at　night；　after　a　hearty　midday　meal　of　drugstore　sandwiches　and　pie；　would　work　new　wonders。

It　seemed　to　be　the　present　opinion　of　other　waiters　on　the　extra　bench　that　things　were　never　going　to　pick　up　on　the　Holden　lot　nor　on　any　other　lot。　Strongly　marked　types；　ready　to　add　distinction　to　the　screen　of　painted　shadows；　freely　expressed　a　view　that　the　motion…picture　business　was　on　the　rocks。　Unaffected　by　the　optimists　who　wrote　in　the　picture　magazines；　they　saw　no　future　for　it。　More　than　one　of　them　threatened　to　desert　the　industry　and　return　to　previous　callings。　As　they　were　likely　to　put　it；　they　were　going　to　leave　the　pictures　flat　and　go　back　to　type…writing　or　selling　standard　art…works　or　waiting　on　table　or　something　where　you　could　count　on　your　little　bit　every　week。

Under　the　eucalyptus　tree　one　morning　Merton　Gill；　making　some　appetizing　changes　in　the　fifth　reel　of　Eating　at　Gashwiler's；　was　accosted　by　a　youngish　woman　whom　he　could　not　at　first　recall。　She　had　come　from　the　casting　office　and　paused　when　she　saw　him。

〃Hello；　I　thought　it　was　you；　but　I　wasn't　sure　in　them　clothes。　How　they　coming？〃

He　stared　blankly；　startled　at　the　sudden　transposition　he　had　been　compelled　to　make；　for　the　gleaming　knife　of　Gashwiler；　standing　up　to　carve；　had　j