Claire McDowell (1915) 🇺🇸

With the record of having probably exceeded in the number of consecutive releases her fellow-members of the Biograph Company, Claire McDowell has retired from the organization with which for the past four years she has been connected.

Miss McDowell has been induced to take this step through purely domestic reasons. She is most comfortably situated at her home in Beechhurst, Long Island, and prefers to work and live in the East.

Miss McDowell has been one of the best known members of the famous company. She has done steady and consistent work, which has been chiefly with the dramatic division and in the single reel releases. She is especially strong in situations calling for ability in emotional portrayal. She has played so many parts in Biograph pictures it seems unnecessary to enumerate them; there are three, however, in which she will especially be remembered — The Female of the Species, Three Years and Her Hand. Miss McDowell comes from a family that has been directly connected with the stage for 150 years. Her father is Eugene A. McDowell, a Canadian actor-manager. Her mother was Fanny Reeves. Sims Reeves, renowned English tenor, is a granduncle. Miss McDowell’s work on the stage began when as an infant she was carried on in arms as the infant in the famous old comedy-drama of Caste. One of her engagements in legitimate productions was with William Faversham in Herod. The well-known screen player is now resting at her Long Island home.

—

His Lesson

One-Reel Majestic of Realistic Treatment and Strong Purpose.

Reviewed by Louis Reeves Harrison

Cast:

“Bat” Murray — George Seigmann
Mamie, his sweetheart — Billie West
Jimmie, the dip — Vester Perry
Dorothy Vernon — (Not given)

During two weeks of the holiday season there was an outpouring of small pictures of equally small merit, making the task of the reviewer no enviable one. From out of the mess of weaklings, imitations and mediocrities, not actually bad in one respect or another, His Lesson has survived so far as my judgment is concerned, though it is not a pretentious affair. Its merit lies in originality of theme, fine selection of types and adequate treatment. The much-abused critic would infinitely prefer to have a larger field of good performances to select from, but it is quite possible that the thousands of small releases turned out every year have absorbed studio talent, especially the write-a-scenario-on-my-cuff kind, to the extent that old plots are being repeated over and over again without the illuminating excuse of a new theme. The main object seems to be that of getting rid of a responsibility — most of the releases seem to be turned out under a mental and physical pressure that does not make for pictures that are either progressive or satisfying.

His Lesson is animated throughout by a theme that makes its presence felt, though it is not clearly defined until the conclusion. “Bat” Murray represents a type well known in city life. He is a forceful young tough with courage, tact and an inclination to be on the level, a disposition to rise above the crookedness that seems to characterize all his surroundings. His easy-going affections are enlisted by a frail and sweet little girl, just Mamie, of his own social order, and he makes short work of Jimmie the Dip when that individual attempts to assert his preference for Mamie. Bat also smashes Jimmie when the latter attempts to pick the pocket of Dorothy Vernon, a banker’s daughter who has entered upon settlement work.

Bat’s aspirations leap into flame under the influence of Miss Vernon. She stimulates him to better his condition, and he does so through natural channels. He becomes a popular candidate for the City Council and wins through the support of those who have known him in the underworld. Higher and higher he aspires until he runs for the legislature, always with an idea of winning the banker’s daughter. His humble sweetheart is neglected and reverts to Jimmie the Dip for consolation in her hours of heartache. The young politician gives a ball in his ward and induces Miss Vernon to attend. She does so, though obviously out of place, and this experience reveals that Bat is not of her world, good fellow as he may be in his own sphere. He cannot rise to the generous clemency and kindly manners of her natural environment.

A fire breaks out at the ball and some thrilling rescues follow, Bat saving both Dorothy and his old sweetheart, but he is terribly burned and carried to the hospital. There it is humble Mamie who nurses him with infinite tenderness, while Dorothy sends him flowers and a little note expressing her deep gratitude. The note also mentions quite delicately her forthcoming marriage to a man in her own circle, and Bat senses that the woman for him is one who understands and deeply loves him, though she may be less of a credit to him in public. The types are beyond criticism, and the entire cast acts with a naturalness that is delightful in this day of antiquated artificiality.

—

A Scenario Department in Motion

The scenario editor of the Lubin Company in Philadelphia and his staff of writers did some exceedingly clever and instructive acting this week in Emmett Campbell Hall’s new play, Such Things Really Happen. George W. Terwilliger, who is directing the play, admits the acting and the writers themselves concede the rest. It was a great occasion in the Lubin studios for the scenario board rarely performs for the camera.

The new play called for several scenes in the scenario room of a big motion picture plant and Terwilliger, instead of using regular actors, went boldly into the Lubin scenario department and commandeered the staff. And nobly the staff responded, This, too, they admit.

Visitors to the department were somewhat startled to see Lawrence McCloskey, the scenario editor, and his writers busily at work making themselves as beautiful as nature and make-up preparations would permit, but it was as nothing to the sensation caused when the staff appeared in the studio and the hundreds of players there saw them.

“Now, men, be firm in the trenches and we’ll show the world something new in the way of artistic acting,” said McCloskey. Forthwith the writers sat themselves down about a long table and acted. The scenes called for them to look human, learned and dignified; to accept and reject manuscripts and occasionally throw out an unwelcome script writer. This they did, as they officially admit, exceedingly cleverly and instructively and the camera recorded it all.

In the acting party were McCloskey, Clay M. Greene, Norbert Lusk, Harry E. Chandlee, J. Allen Boone, Shannon Fife and A. Gil Spear.

—

—

Claire McDowell

Scene from His Lesson (Majestic)

Collection: Moving Picture World, January 1915