William Bakewell — The Native Son Also Rises (1929) 🇺🇸
So I came into his office and there sat Griffith. 'Well,' he said, 'you're the boy Belle Bennett told me was a good actor?' My knees were knocking like a couple of castanets because it was the first time I had seen this great director to his face. But I managed to stammer, 'I hope so, sir.'
"He sat there looking at me for a minute. Then he said, 'I want you to do a little scene from the picture for me.' Just like that. Right off the bat. No test. No preliminary rehearsal. No nothing. 'Now,' he went on, 'pretend I am your old mother and you are bringing me a birthday present. This book will do.' I managed to walk over and take hold of the book he handed to me. But my hand shook so I must have looked like I had a dash of the palsy. But I kept telling myself, 'Billy, this is your big chance. You'll never get another one like it. Griffith! His big picture, 'The Battle of the Sexes!' You've got to make the grade.'
"I tried to forget that this was just an office and that I was scared to death. I looked at Griffith and tried to imagine that he was really my mother, but that was kinda hard. Anyway, I did the scene and when I got through Griffith said, 'Well, that's pretty good.' I guess he thought my quaking voice and knocking knees were emotion when all along it was just plain old-fashioned, scared, stage-fright. But I got the part," said William Bakewell, aged twenty, "and I guess that's all that matters."
In Quest of Confirmation
Billy, who was slightly out of breath from his dramatic recital, perched himself back on the edge of the desk in the publicity department and eyed me questioningly. These uplifted glances had been as much a part of his recital as the rapid flow of words that changed key rather unexpectedly when he got into the exciting parts. The words spoke for themselves, but the glances timidly questioned as to whether or not I thought he had done right. If I had been in his place, wouldn't I have felt the same way about it.' He seemed to have a pointed and friendly desire to take me through his experiences with him, sharing the suspense, the 'thrill and the contract.
His foot swung restlessly back and forth. With that can't-sit-still type of nervousness he did odd things with his hands. He alternately transferred them from his pockets to an akimbo posture. Now and then he would clasp them tightly behind him. As though in accompaniment, his facial expression kept pace with smiles, frowns, grimaces and other moods that lighted up the high-spots of his first interview.
"It might be a good idea to play up the angle that Billy is a Hollywood boy who has made good in the movies," suggested a lady press agent. "Billy was born here and it is almost as hard to find a native of Hollywood as it is to find a native of New York."
"Yes," said Billy, getting onto the idea right away, "I was born right here and went to school. The school that I attended is called Harvard Military Academy and I was graduated from there in 1925."
A Drilling Past
Something tells me that though Billy has never given interviews before, he has read them. He was a stickler for detail, names, dates and facts. He added that he had been more than active in Harvard Military Academy's dramatic club and that soon after he was graduated, in 1925, he set right out in pursuit of his favorite profession. "I went over to the Paramount Studio and tried to get extra work. It seems that no matter how big may have been the parts you have played in dramatics at school, it doesn't mean a thing around the studios. The casting director told me I would have to start in at extra work.
I would report at the studio every morning and then I would run home because I was afraid they would telephone me for something before I could get there."
Here he hopped off the desk and showed in pantomime just how he looked after that wild dash home from the studio. I got the idea that he was always disheveled and highly breathless.
"One day they called me up and said I was to play a page-boy in Raymond Griffith's picture, 'He's a Prince.' Let's see — that's several years ago. I believe it was in —" He paused, trying vainly to give me the exact day of the month and the year of his picture-debut as Ray Griffith's page-boy. He sighed imperceptibly when I told him he could let that little detail pass. "Well, any way, I carried Mr. Griffith's train for several days and that was my start in pictures.
"After that I went to work in a picture of Emory Johnson's for F.B.O. called 'The Last Edition.' No — wait a minute — I think I worked first before that in Hold Everything at Fox." His brow wrinkled under the weighty problem. Then he smiled. I was glad everything was all right. "That's right — just like I told you. I remember now that I worked in 'The First Edition' before I went over to Fox."
Belle Bennett's Boy, Billy
Painfully we went through his other picture engagements in their proper order. If there was any mistake, Billy would go back over the discrepancies, ironing out the mistakes with pantomime and facts. He played "small but good" parts in "Whispering Wives," Bertha, the Sewing Machine Girl and "Elsie of New York." But it wasn't until he got the role of Belle Bennett's son in "Mother" that he considers his professional activities of much consequence.
"Gee, Miss Bennett is a lovely woman," he said, "and she has certainly done a lot for me. Every time she has had the chance to put in a good word for me, she has done it. As I said before, it was Miss Bennett who recommended me to D. W. Griffith for the part I played in 'The Battle of the Sexes.'"
He might have gone enumerating his picture-experiences far into the night if I hadn't suggested that perhaps his public would be interested in knowing what he does outside the studio. He brightened. After all, it was rather pleasant to be allowed to drop those weighty names and dates.
"Oh, I go to Catalina and swim and ride surf-boards," he continued in the same enthusiastic pitch. It was clear that Billy could get just as hepped over his recreations as over his movies — for publication. "I pal around a lot with Arthur Lake and we go to movies and take girls out and things.
A Hand from Coolidge
"Say," he broke in, as though he was on the verge of kicking himself for having forgotten it this long, "When we went to Baltimore on 'Annapolis,' I met President Coolidge!"
He nearly exploded with the very remembrance of it. And, gee, when he also remembered that he had been all through the White House and the President's yacht, the Mayflower, it was just hard to hold him. "I wish you could have been along," he added generously.
Hollywood — movies — D. W. Griffith — Belle Bennett — New York — Washington — Coolidge — Yes, sir, Billy has certainly had his thrills. As the lady press agent suggested, this local boy has made good in a great big way!
Photo by: Lansing Brown (1900–1962)
Collection: Motion Picture Classic Magazine, January 1929