Chats with the Players — Grace Cunard, of the Universal Company (1915) 🇺🇸

Grace Cunard lives in the house on the mountain, and mighty proud she is of it, too. “Have you seen my home?” was her first query the last time we met, and I had to confess that I had not, so off we went willy-nilly in her big automobile (Grace does not possess anything nor do anything small) and were soon chugging up the steep mountain road, the summit of which is surmounted by a handsome stone structure, the much vaunted home of Miss Cunard.

It is no wonder that she is proud of it, for it is a beautiful place, and oh! the view it commands. On one side she overlooks tier after tier of mountains, with glimpses of southern California’s most luxurious and prosperous valleys; another shows the city of Los Angeles spread out, with another range of mountains beyond; turn around, and the ocean glistens in the sun. It is certainly an enviable spot to plant a permanent home upon.

Soon there will be a garden, for there are young trees and plants, flowers and palms all leaping up after the recent rains and now being warmed by the rays of old Sol, who is very generous right now.

“You like it? I knew you would; every one does. Now come and see what we are doing inside.” And she led me toward the entrance, where we were greeted by numerous dogs. I could swear there were twenty of them, but Miss Cunard said there were but six, so I must believe her; but they all got entangled in my legs and seemed bent on telling me that I was a welcome visitor.

Inside, the home is charming in every respect, and its chief delight is a long apartment with hardwood floors, which is devoted to dancing and entertainments and where Miss Cunard’s many friends come often and stay late to have a good time and to dance to the strains of her wonderful piano — she told me the name of it, but I have forgotten. This room is overlooked by a balcony which runs along one side and which leads from the living-rooms to the bedrooms. The furnishings and furniture are all in the best of taste, and everything, the house included, was designed by the busy little lady.

In this ideal home Grace Cunard perpetually entertains her mother and a sister, who has a baby boy. The little fellow was a delicate-looking mite when he arrived, but he is getting husky now. and after he had received the toy he demanded from his aunt, we sat on the front porch and had our little chat.

“Tell me, Miss Grace,” I asked her, “which do you like the best — writing the photoplays or acting in them — or do you hanker for directing?”

Miss Cunard laughed. “Honestly, I hardly know how to answer you,” she said. “The fact is I love acting and am awfully fond of writing, too. As to the directing, altho I have done a good deal of it and often put on a photoplay while Mr. Ford is cutting and assembling a picture, I believe that I best like it in the way I do it — that is, occasionally. I hardly believe I would take to it as a steady diet, Later on, when I feel I am too old to take leads — and the time will come, you know, no matter how hard I try to stave it off — then, I guess, I will direct. entirely, because I will never give up Motion Pictures — I am too wrapped up in them. At the same time I am glad I do direct now and again, for I can say that I have tried every angle of the manufacturing end of the business, and, what is more, that I am conversant with every branch and can even cut and assemble a film, with appealing subtitles, and have done so many times.”

“All right,” I said; “we will confine your answers to writing and acting. Which is your favorite branch?”

“You are very persistent. Let me see — well, I don’t know, and refuse to commit myself. It is so delightful to make believe and to put one’s thoughts on paper, knowing that they will be reproduced and that when one goes to see the finished product one is watching the creature of one’s brain. I always go and see my own plays run, both to watch their imperfections and successes; this from an acting and the writing points of view. I love the acting, too, and could hardly exist without being able to create the characters I write for myself.”

“You compose photoplays with yourself in view?” I queried.

“Of course I not only write parts for myself, but for all of our company. I know their abilities and their failings, and I endeavor to make all the component parts as strong as possible without injuring the story. It is comparatively easy to write for myself and Francis Ford, as we have acted together for so long and understand each other’s good and bad points so well. Yes, I think he is a great director — his success points to that without my saying it.”

We chatted awhile of her earlier days, the days which recalled to memory the time she was brought to America by her French father and her American mother, for Grace was born in Paris. She recalled her schooldays in Columbus, Ohio, and told me of how, at the age of thirteen, she started her legitimate stage career in the part of Dora Thorne, and how later she was featured in Princess of Patches, playing the part of Feather, in New York and elsewhere; of her days in numerous stock companies and in vaudeville. But all this was lightly touched upon, for the heart of Grace Cunard is in Motion Pictures, and it is of the screen that she likes to talk.

Miss Cunard has appeared with the Biograph, Lubin and New York Motion Picture companies, has been with the Universal since its inception and seems to be a vital part of that organization.

She has written a remarkable number of photoplays and has acted the lead in all of them. These plays embrace Civil War, domestic, society and mystery stories, and both Miss Cunard and Francis Ford are particularly fond of tales of mystery. It is hard to pick out her biggest successes, but she wove a wonderful story into “The Campbells Are Coming,” the big feature picture recently produced at Universal City, and she not only put the “Lucille Love” stories into scenario form, but her acting, in the name part is still enjoyed by audiences all over the States and in England, and the part she took put the seal on her popularity.

In her pretty library and study she answers all her many correspondents and she showed me a big pile of photographs ready for mailing. Grace Cunard is a brilliant young woman, and such a busy one. She is never still a moment, and with all her multifarious duties she still finds time to entertain freely and to give a part of her time to the beautifying of the house on the mountain.

Richard Willis.

Four views of Grace Cunard at one sitting

Collection: Motion Picture Magazine, July 1915