Chats with the Players — Rosemary Theby, of the Lubin Company (1914) 🇺🇸

When a girl of eighteen leaves her comfortable home in Missouri to come alone to New York with nothing but the courage of her own convictions and a great, overwhelming desire to act; when she works and studies and then begins a career far below even the lowest rung of the ladder of success, and, all unaided, climbs gloriously to the top, don’t you think she deserves a whole lot of credit? And Rosemary Theby has not finished climbing yet.

She came to New York to take up her studies at a dramatic school. Upon leaving there, she had intended trying for an engagement in stock, but a friend gave her a note to one of the directors at the Vitagraph Company. She traveled down to the studio, and met the director, who held out but scant encouragement. But picture work soon exerted its fascination over her. and she forgot all about the stage and started in to learn how to act before a camera. It meant that she was given nothing to do but filling in as a super for a long time, yet she didn’t care. When she finally attained the honor of donning a maid’s cap and apron, she felt that she really had secured a footing at last. With this girl it has been no meteoric flight to glory, but a stern, uphill battle.

“What shall we talk about?” she asked — “censorship? Do I approve, or do I not? Of course, it doesn’t matter in the least, one way or the other, but, frankly, I don’t! One of the finest pictures ever made was severely censored — I mean The Reincarnation of Karma — and it was beautiful!” I remembered then that it was this picture that brought Miss Theby, then a member of the Vitagraph Company, into prominence, for her fine interpretation of Quinetrea, the snake-woman.

“I haven’t a motor-car,” she announced suddenly. “Oh, I know it’s the thing to have one, but I haven’t. I spend a lot of time on horseback, tho,” she added, reflectively. “That is, a lot of time for one busy as I am. You see, I am at the studio every day and am scarcely done with one part when I must jump into another.”

I noticed several beautiful gowns lying across a chair, and the conversation turned naturally to clothes. “I like to have well-looking and becoming things to wear at all times, altho I never follow the extreme in fashion. But, outside of dressing my parts suitably, I don’t care one whit about dress. I am far more comfortable and happy as I am now.” And as she laughed she struck at her russet boots with her riding-crop. That laugh seemed to convey the information that comfort and happiness are far more essential to this girl than mere “gauds and chiffons.” And then, too, she has youth, beauty — a rare beauty — and popularity, which go a long way in this world.

“Won’t you say that I am an ardent admirer of Mary Fuller? I think she is splendid.” And there was no mistaking the warmth of the tribute paid so generously.

As I looked at Miss Theby, who is ever so much younger out of pictures than she seems in them, I wondered why it had happened that she became identified so early in her career with heavy-villainess sort of parts. Probably because she was a good type, for adventuresses are still brunettes, and Miss Theby is very dark.

After two successful years with the Vitagraph Company, during which she received many good notices for parts intelligibly and carefully rendered, Miss Theby joined the Reliance forces. While here she did a great deal of work, appearing In practically one out of every two films released. And now she is playing in the Lubin films, opposite to the ever-popular young leading man and director, Harry Myers, and the combination is an exceptionally good one.

“St. Louis — that’s my home-town. I have a mother and father there, and lots of friends and relatives scattered all over the city. Lonely?” She paused. “Well, not now. But when I first came to New York it was quite a different story. I felt that in such a big city so small an atom as myself would be caught up in the rush and bustle and lost for all time. My poor little ambition that had seemed so great and fine out West, all crumbled to nothing. What chance had I in a city where so many were working and striving? But this mood did not last long, I’m happy to say, and I soon had my shoulder to the wheel and just plugged on.”

And I could not help but feel that no matter where she goes, Rosemary Theby will always “plug on,” just because that is the kind of girl she is.

M. B. Harvey.

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Collection: Motion Picture Magazine, March 1914