Martha Mansfield — A Mansfield of the Follies (1919) 🇺🇸
The day before I interviewed Martha Mansfield I went to Alfred Cheney Johnston for some photographs.
by C. Blythe Sherwood
“Martha?” — he began, his face lighting up — “Martha? You’ll just love Martha. She is so frail. She is an exquisite pastel. You cant connect Martha with the theater at all. She is sweet, and fine, and dainty — a fragile flower.”
I believed all this until the next morning.
When the Mansfield door opened.
And she stood in front of me.
Not smiling.
But laughing.
And wearing a sports costume.
Of the gayest color.
And revealing from under a hat.
Hair.
More dazzling than any bonnet. And greeting: “I’m so glad you came just when you did. Because if you had not arrived at this minute, I should have gone for my walk.”
We went inside. The living room was cheerful and cozy. Miss Mansfield did not sink into the divan, but crossed her legs on the piano bench.
I didn’t really mean to spy. But the odor of flowers attracted my attention to look in their direction, and behind them I saw some interesting books, and in back of the volumes, in state, stood the photograph of Hazel Dawn, and high above the Dawn hung a Leyendecker poster, and, in a direct angle, pointing to the other corner of the room, peeped a hockey stick.
“Skate?” query au naturel.
“No,” illuminatory smile. “Not now. I like swimming and I love riding. Now, nothing can come up to that. I love animals and sugar, anyway.”
“M-m-m-m-m. And what else, Miss Mansfield?”
“Oh! — California. The flowers, fruit, sunshine, contentment, universal love, lack of rivalry, peace, calm, and the darling little, inexpensive bungalows. Oh, and the sunsets. It was like living in a world made by Joseph Urban — the way those gorgeous colors came and surrounded us. California is my heaven! I do not want it any different than that — ever. Only I want it while I’m alive and when mother can be with me.
“It is two years ago that mother and I were there. I was playing opposite Max Linder at the time. It really was lots of fun. We had many a picnic out of it — and much exasperation, too. Mr. Linder never had a director. He was a natural born, funny, unrestrained comedian. And as he could not speak a word of English and I knew little French, it was indeed difficult trying to act, when I hadn’t the least idea what it was all about or what it was that I should do.
“I learnt then, and have seen since, that a good director is everything. You can rave a great deal about a movie actress’ beauty and charm and vivacity, but if she is without intelligence, a spark of imagination, and a sympathetic director to bring it all out, she is nothing and will never get anywhere on the screen.”
“And you were in the Follies?” I queried.
“Last year in the Follies, I loved the bits I had to do, and in appreciation I tried so hard to do them well. When Frank Carter sang, ‘I’ll pin my medal on the girl I left behind,’ I was the girl, do you recollect, in the darling, old-fashioned dress?
“This season I am in Mr. Ziegfeld’s Two Frolics. The first one I finish playing at nine-thirty, and as I do not have to perform again until after twelve, I always take advantage of that spare time and go off to the theater. It is really the only chance I get all week, as my days are taken up at the studio. Of course, continually dropping in to see a show after the second act has begun, is hard, and that is why, instead, I have gotten into the habit of going to the movies. I am quite a fan. I care for pictures — good ones — a great deal.
“Oh, there is no excuse for some of the pictures we see nowadays. There is not a reason in the world, at this late cinema date, for a bad picture —”
“Martha talking like that?” Mama Mansfield laughed. “Good heavens!”
All of which I submit for Mr. Alfred Cheney Johnston’s attention. An exquisite pastel — yes! But an athletic, very real American girl who can think as well.

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Martha Mansfield alternates between the Ziegfeld Frolics and the motion picture studios. She is best known on the screen for her work as leading woman for Max Linder several years ago [Max Comes Across]
Photos by Alfred Cheney Johnston

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Collection: Motion Picture Classic Magazine, June 1919
