Carol Dempster and Clarine Seymour — The Two Strange Women (1919) 🇺🇸

Clarine and Carol now wander in the Sunshine Court of Lillian et Dorothy et Mae et al.

by E. M. Robbins

When, without any warning and without even an attempt at explanation, D. W. Griffith presents a motion picture without a Gish or a Marsh [Mae Marsh] in it, there is sufficient cause given for the public to arise and demand a reason for the sudden appearance of strange women.

Thus with the screening of “The Girl Who Stayed at Home” it becomes pertinent to inquire as to the identity and excuse for the presence of one Carol Dempster and the party with the mysterious wiggle, whom Mr. Griffith has called “Cutie Beautiful” but whose real name is Clarine Seymour.

Beginning in alphabetical order, which is said to be the most diplomatic way of attacking theatrical or motion picture themes, the prime reason Miss Dempster has become identified with the list of Griffith players is because she is:

• First, probably the most graceful in movement of any young woman now in pictures;
• Second, she has a peculiar type of beauty that appeals to many people;
• Third, she has a case of real inside sincerity that the camera does not fail to register.

Outside of that, Miss Carol is not far different from a lot of other good-humored young ladies who have been well brought up with a love for home life and a respect for their parents. Aside from a few months when she was attending a private school for young ladies she has never been away from her mother, which probably accounts for the lack of cynicism which is paramount in her makeup.

Born in Duluth, on the Great Lakes, with the constant breeze from Lake Superior and the cold of Northern winters contributing to the healthy bloom of a pair of cheeks that need no aid from cosmetics, she was transplanted in the land of palms and mocking birds while still in the early grades of school. Papa Dempster had been a Great Lakes’ captain all his life and had reached that age when the bounding billow held no more romance. He wanted to get away from the water, so the family came to California.

There is nothing unusual in Carol’s life during the school days, except for the fact that an aunt in Santa Maria told the young lady’s mother that any one who walked and ran and jumped like Carol did should be given dancing lessons. The family took kindly to the idea and in a few more months, under good teaching, she began to be noticed.

It was not Fate, but rather good judgment on the part of Ruth St. Denis that she picked Carol out of an entertainment one night and told her the proper cars to take to get to Denishawn. And a year later the future motion picture star was billed as the solo dancer in Miss St. Denis’ road show, at that time starting on its cross-country tour.

Here was developed the grace of movement that characterizes her in the pictures. She was not taught how to dance, but rather what to dance. Now for the first time do we find Fate putting her finger into the Dempster pie. At least it is usually labeled Fate, and anyway the road tour had just nicely started and Miss Carol’s success had just become definitely assured when Mother Dempster was taken ill and could no longer accompany her daughter on the road. That was an end of the solo dancing. Had she retained her health, her daughter might never have appeared in pictures.

That last one is not quite true, because she had already been seen on the screen, for about three feet of action. That happened in Intolerance, when Mr. Griffith invaded the walled gardens of Denishawn and rounded up the entire assembly to fill a certain space in the mammoth hall of Belshazzar.

The road show at an end, Miss Dempster nursed her mother for some weeks until a fair degree of health returned. And then came pictures, in a way that seldom happens. She did not seek a job, but rather she was literally picked up and set down again in the land of mercury arcs and megaphones. It was just because she happened to visit the studio with a friend who was working and in a spare moment of his time was again introduced to Mr. Griffith. And it may be stated here that Griffith never forgets. He even remembered Intolerance and the short little dance, and the day at Denishawn. And in about five minutes, after learning the result of the Denishawn tour, he told Miss Carol to report the following day, as he might have something for her.

It resulted in a very small “bit” in “A Romance of Happy Valley,” but it was enough to introduce her to the screen. Next came Dorothy Gish, who invited her to try a part in “The Hope Chest.” which resulted in a still better acquaintance with the new art. And then, to the complete bewilderment of the 9867 extra girls and stock people in Hollywood, it was suddenly announced that Carol Dempster would be one of the featured leads in The Girl Who Stayed at Home.

It happened because Miss Lillian Gish, whom the public could logically expect to play the part, had been working without a vacation for about ten months, and she was tired. The picture demanded a type that was quiet, refined and graceful together with a sincerity that Mr. Griffith always demands. If there were others who possessed these characteristics they did not show up at the time the picture was cast, and the cameras began to click in front of Carol Dempster — star.

She isn’t “upstage” about it. In fact she hasn’t gotten over the surprise. She says she doesn’t know how to act, and that she depends on Mr. Griffith for every bit of teaching. Others who are acquainted with the situation add to the statement by saying that she doesn’t have to be taught the same bit twice.

At any rate, such is the history of the young woman who has reached stardom probably quicker than any other person in motion pictures.

And she’s just an ordinary girl, with a pleasant smile, good tastes, well read, a lover of athletics, an expert swimmer, a good horsewoman, and the possessor of one of the most valuable traits in human kind — a sense of humor.

And now for “Cutie.” A different story. This tale has to do with the rough and rugged road that seems always to turn down instead of up; that presents always new difficulties, new rocks to shatter hopes upon, yet ever with the glittering rainbow pots beyond.

This is not “Cutie’s” first picture. In fact she has no idea in her own little head as to how many she has played in. It began when she was just a wee bit of a girl in the golden days of the old Thanhouser, and it has continued through comedies and tragedies, through vaudeville and entertaining, until her final arrival at the place where they print the names in big letters was as surprising to her as it was pleasant.

The story of Clarine Seymour is the story that girls who would seek the moving pictures as a road to fame should not only read, but memorize. It is far too long to tell in one installment, and this must be but a brief synopsis.

To begin, anyone who is cute, graceful, possessing any kind of pleasing individuality and at the same time only five feet tall and proportioned accordingly, may expect to be the first, worst and most logical victim of the so called “star” system. People of Miss Seymour’s attract too much attention on the screen, and invariably divert the audience from the leading people. That is one thing the said leading people will not stand for, and they are not to be blamed much for it. Consider for yourself any of the more sedate and handsome ladies of four figured salaries, and imagine the petite Clarine suddenly entering a scene which is supposed to belong to the star. It’s quite disconcerting, my dear.

So it is not to be wondered at that there were weeks out of every month in which Miss Clarine was told at the casting director’s window that there would be nothing doing that day.

“If so cute, why didn’t they star her?” you ask.

Sounds logical enough, out it usually happens that the producing companies have all the stars on the list that they can take care of, and it is not policy to lay them off for indefinite periods to try out an unknown quantity, no matter how attractive.

So it happened that Clarine Seymour was either cast for a part all through the picture, generally a one or two reel comedy, or else she did not get through the gate far enough to get on the sets.

Of the months that passed, in which she played little bits of vaudeville, or appeared in a dancing act, Miss Seymour chooses to remember as little as possible, because the memory is still too fresh. There were times when the meals came none too regularly, when the “no” of the casting director came too often for her peace of mind.

Los Angeles took the place of New York as her residence, to broaden her chances on account of more operating companies, and a little over a year ago she was contracted by a comedy company to play a series of leads with Toto [Armando Novello], the French down. This did not go well for reasons best known to the company and to Clarine, and the contract resulted in a lawsuit, in which she demanded some $1,300 or $1,400 in back salaries. As this drew itself through the slow processes of the courts she was taken into the Christie [Al Christie] fold for a short series of comedies. And then came the “Flu” and — no, she didn’t catch the disease.

Studios closed all over the country. Some for financial reasons, others to stop the flow of production until the theaters could catch up, so Clarine found herself once more without a pay check on Saturday.

Casting was beginning for The Girl Who Stayed at Home. Two parts were wanted that would show the same opposite tendencies as the Gish sisters in “Hearts of the World.” Miss Gish was tired out, so Carol Dempster was given her chance to be a star. Dorothy was the logical type for the other part, but it so happened that Dorothy was busy starring in her own Paramount productions. And in walked Clarine, stretched to her full and glorious height of something just a trifle under five feet.

A test was made and the help wanted sign was lucked away for the weeks to come.

For Clarine, the darker days seem to be at an end, and she can just begin to smile at the dismal hours of a past that few girls would have the nerve to endure.

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Carol Dempster

Photo by: Stagg

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Miss Seymour in a scene from one of her Toto comedies, where she was employed immediately preceding her appointment by Griffith for The Girl Who Stayed at Home. In the circle at the left, with Robert Harron in “True Heart Susie.”

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Through the school of Ruth St Denis, Carol Dempster drifted into screen work. The above is a scene from The Girl Who Stayed at Home, with Richard Barthelmess.

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Clarine Seymour worked harder and longer for her Big Chance than — possibly — any other young girl in motion pictures. This summery vision was snapped in her dressing room during her lark in Christie comedies.

Photo by: Stagg

Collection: Photoplay Magazine, August 1919