Carroll Nye — Unswept and Unsung (1929) 🇺🇸
Carroll Nye has appeared conspicuously in thirty-six films, yet this is his first interview. He has never had a portrait in a magazine. He has had only the most meager newspaper publicity. Until recently he did not have that very essential asset, a press agent.
by Madeline Glass
Being a free-lance actor, going continually from studio to studio, producers do not concern themselves with building up his fame. To do so would be an unheard-of demonstration of philanthropy. All the publicity which it is possible by hook or by crook to obtain is given, naturally, to players under contract.
Carroll’s utter lack of publicity is doubly remarkable, in view of the fact that his mother holds an important position on a Los Angeles newspaper. Here again is a stumbling block. The mother feels that it would be a breach of journalistic ethics to promote her son’s interests by mentioning his name in her department; and the other morning newspaper, being a formidable rival, has little interest in Carroll, because of his mother’s affiliation with the enemy!
It is doubtful if another actor in the entire colony can equal Carroll Nye in the matter of being unwept, unhonored, and unsung. Although it is unfortunate that he should have been deprived of deserved credit and glory, it is, at any rate, gratifying to know that it is possible for a talented person to make consistent progress in his fantastic profession, without journalistic influence of any nature whatever. Indeed, such an achievement has all the earmarks of a miracle.
Before talking with him I tried to remember what I had seen and heard of his career, but found my mental notes to be vague and limited. Let’s see. He made his first hit in Classified, with Corinne Griffith. Her brother, yes. Kept tearing the radio to pieces in a manner calculated to put one’s teeth on edge. Then a series of wayward brothers. Wasn’t he electrocuted once or twice, pictorially speaking?
Then I remembered having noticed him on the set with Novarro, at the Metro-Goldwyn studio, where they were making The Flying Ensign, alias The Flying Fleet. A pity I had not paid more attention to Carroll, instead of keeping my eyes glued to Ramon. Still it was fascinating to watch the great Novarro, dressed in uniform, eating olives and talking Spanish to a Mexican girl.
Since nothing had been written about Carroll Nye, I figured that getting first-hand information about him should be interesting. It was.
“I’ve been working steadily, thank the Lord!” he exclaimed, almost immediately. “Just finished a quickie.”
We were having lunch in a Chinese cafe. Or rather, I was having lunch. Carroll, having had what he described as an actor’s breakfast, took only dessert and coffee.
“The smaller companies,” he went on, “like to give their pictures a prosperous, impressive appearance by having the people in them wear a wide variety of clothes. Although I played a man of small means in this picture, I had to wear my entire wardrobe. Finally I said, ‘You’d better bring this picture to a close; I’m wearing my last suit.’ We finished the thing that day.”
On learning that he had made two talking pictures, I inquired about his voice.
“It records very well,” he told me, “although at times it sounds far too old to match my face. I think that difficulty will be overcome when the talking process is perfected. In its present state it does the strangest things to voices. For instance, Pauline Frederick has a beautiful, low, rich voice, yet the microphone records it rather badly. At the same time a girl with an ordinary, uncultivated voice may record excellently.
“Recently I made a two-reel talking picture, directed by Lionel Barrymore. I wasn’t suited to the role, but I was so anxious to work with Barrymore that I accepted the part, and did my very best to make my work convincing. From what I had heard and read of Barrymore, I expected him to be a sour, unsociable person, but he turned out to be just the opposite. He rehearsed as carefully and thoroughly before we even attempted to film the picture. The night we started shooting I was ill, but I didn’t tell any one. We worked all night, and until ten o’clock the next morning. By that time my fever was pretty high, and I was so tired I later had no recollection of making the last scene. When the picture was previewed, the audience laughed at two incidents, so we went over it and made some changes.
“Classified, you know, was my first picture. At the time I made it I was playing on the stage in White Collars and reporting on The Times. Although I had had lots of experience in school theatricals, and a year on the stage, I was so nervous before the camera I could hear my heart pounding against my ribs. I liked that part, but in a way it was bad for me, for it identified me with a type that I have seldom been able to break away from since.”
I gathered that Carroll is very anxious to retain his individuality, and not become stamped with the earmarks of the typical Thespian. Still I am compelled to say that he has more of the traits of his profession than any actor I have ever met. Mr. Nye will not enjoy reading this, but it is true. In the midst of his assertions that he detests “actory” behavior, he indulges in graphic demonstrations that leave no doubt of his vocation. Vigorous, gesticulative, and very earnest, his demeanor and personality are far more piquant than one would expect from viewing his prosaic film characterizations.
Mr. Nye is thoroughly American, and intensely proud of it. His ancestry is traceable to the picturesque days long before the Revolution. On the family fireplace lie two silver spoons which were made by Paul Revere. Carroll also cherishes a footstool which George Washington carried to church us a support for his soldierly feet. A brother is a graduate of West Point, and Carroll proudly numbers General Isaac Putnam among his ancestors.
Mr. Nye was born in Ohio and came to California at the age of six months. After finishing his education at the University of Southern California, he set about the serious business of becoming an actor.
A couple of years ago, unattended by a word of publicity, if we except the marriage-license notice in the paper, he married Helen Lynch, who is also overlooked by those who publicize the stars.
Carroll had a typical role in While the City Sleeps — that of a sympathetic crook.
Photo by: Brown
Madeline Glass found that Carroll Nye has more traits of his profession than any actor she has met.
Collection: Picture Play Magazine, March 1929