Poverty Row (1926) 🇺🇸
There is a street of humble studios in Hollywood. In them movies are made on the proverbial shoe-string… and in them stars going up to success meet stars coming down
by Dwinelle Benthall
Hollywood is so young that the years haven’t had much opportunity to touch her here and there and mold her into that fascinating pattern of light and shade that makes the individuality of cities.
At first glance, Hollywood seems to be all “light” — no slums, no “quarters,” no sinister streets — and yet, there is Poverty Row!
The literal Poverty Row is wearing a mask of fresh paint, elaborate stucco, and a general air of prosperity.
The little row of nondescript buildings, which once offered shelter to anyone who was trying to make a picture on a shoe-string or two, has changed somewhat in character — but Poverty Row as a neighborhood, and Poverty Row, as a condition, still exists.
Figuratively speaking, it is like a narrow ladder leading from obscurity to the bigger, brighter world of success — and everyone climbs that ladder. Some by leaps and bounds, some wearily and slowly. Some climb up and some climb down — some climb up and down and up and down.
It’s a strange place, Poverty Row — gray with disappointment and bitter with failure, yet shot thru with the golden gleam of hope. Work, work, work! Those, going up, work eagerly. The Will o’ the Wisp, ahead, beckons. Those, coming down, work doggedly, for bread —or gaily, for bravado — or sullenly, for shame — and those who are climbing up a second time, work silently. It is harder the second time, because in failure, they are burdened with the memory of success.
It is stark tragedy for those coming down to be crowded to one side by those pushing up — as they meet on that mythical ladder in Poverty Row— and yet, it is inevitable.
They are like rabbit warrens, that group of studios in Poverty Row. You are liable to meet anyone in their dim halls. A company moves in — makes a picture — and moves out. Then waits until enough money is found to make another picture. Sometimes these are very good pictures — sometimes, very bad ones, but they all are adventures. Perhaps The Salvation Hunters has been the most famous one. That queer, heavy epic of mud that meant everything or nothing according to the way you looked at it. Anyway, it was made by a group of youngsters who believed in themselves, in their futures and their ideas, and today they are all acclaimed artists — Josef von Sternberg, George K. Arthur, Gloria Hale and Otto Matiessen [Georgia Hale | Otto Matieson], and the one picture that made them all was made for four thousand dollars on Poverty Row! Adventure! Romance! Luck! Call it what you will, but it sings a Siren Song on Poverty Row.
The list of producing companies on these studio bulletin boards reads like the entries in a cross-country race. Some of them come in for The Big Money, but most of them fall at the jumps.
The greatest asset they can have, is names. The bigger, the better, but never has the producer of Poverty Row — big enough money to buy a big name — for long. So he does the best he can by using all his ingenuity to entice someone, well known, to come and work for him for a day or two. Then he shoots all the scenes with that person as quickly as possible — one after another, without any regard for sequence, pays off his principal, and goes on making the balance of the picture with cheaper players.
And actors who are not under contract, are glad to pick up the odd days’ work, so they scuttle over to Poverty Row and do their bit, hoping that no one will see them, and what is more important, that they will not miss a call from a big studio, while they are gone.
Lionel Barrymore, Mildred Harris, Cullen Landis, Pauline Garon, Gladys Hulette, all have known Poverty Row. You can name them by the dozen. The great rank and file of good actors who are not stars of the first magnitude, who must work to live, and who find work increasingly hard to find — or, who just happen to be in one of those frightening, dull periods between good “breaks.”
Herbert Rawlinson, whose dimples and curls once made him a popular matinee idol, still has the dimples and curls, but he has to offer them in a cheaper market, these days — a lower rung of the ladder. In the heyday of his popularity, he bought ten thousand fans photographs every year. The other day he bought a hundred.
Francis X. Bushman went all the way. down, and now he is climbing up again. Henry B. Walthall is doing the same thing, but Maurice Costello seems unable to climb back. He does bits, now and then, but the role he plays oftenest is just “father to the Costello girls [Helene Costello | Dolores Costello].”
A few years ago, Clara Kimball Young starred in Enter Madame. Louise Dresser played a very minor part in the same picture. Today, Louise Dresser is at the top of the ladder, and Clara is not even in the game. That seems a particularly strange twist of Fate, for all the advantages would seem to be on Clara’s side — youth, beauty, popularity — but even these could not hold her when she began to slip.
Once in the good old days, Lois Weber and Phillips Smalley were the famous lovers of the screen — Phillips began to drop down. Lois stayed near the top, as actress, then as director, but the surge of competition pushed her down — down and out. Trouble, bad luck, false friends, all had their part in her fall, but Lois Weber has grit — grit and genius, and no combination of circumstances was strong enough to keep her down. She is back again now, near the very top — our only woman director, and Phillips Smalley is playing a small part in her current production.
Grace Cunard, one of the early favorites, whose salary was something that was named in whispers, with an awed, “Do you believe it is true?’’ is now playing in serials. Louise Lorraine, who has long played in serials, has just signed a contract to be featured by one of the biggest companies. So it goes — up and down!
Francis Ford was once a producer, a director, a star — one of the biggest names in the business — today he is in serials or what have you!
And do you remember when Virginia Pearson was one of the deadliest vamps? Earrings and slinky gowns and all the rest of it! But times and styles have changed. The public no longer likes the old label. Vamps may still be vamps, but they mustn’t look like it.
Sometimes it is age, often folly, more often still, just bad luck, that forces an actor down — pathetic, much of it.
Florence Lawrence, “The Girl with a Thousand Faces,” who was probably the first woman made famous by pictures, was seriously injured and paralyzed for four years. Now she is trying to come back, but the picture business has marched on with a new generation of stars in the van. She can’t come back to her old place — and she is working as hard as any beginner to make a new niche for herself, as a character comedienne. She has an even chance to succeed, for she is a good actress. That is, she may succeed, if she can force herself to forget that she was once a star and that all these people who have big names now, “were once extras for me.” She waits for studios to send for her — sometimes they do, but more often they forget.
Very recently it was announced that Flora Finch was to be featured in a series of comedies. She used to play with John Bunny, and has hardly been seen for years. Forrest Stanley and Tom Santschi were once names to conjure with — now find them if you can — and yet they are still playing.
Florence Turner is perhaps, one of the most gallant figures in the game, just mention her name and any old-timer will rave with enthusiasm. By old-timer, I mean anyone whose memory goes back more than ten years. They will tell you that Florence Turner is the finest woman, the best actress and the greatest sport whose name was ever in electrics. She is slowly climbing back again, but the years have taken their toll. Today she is supporting stars who were mere children when she had the world at her feet.
Many of the idols, who were once at the top and are now seldom seen, such as Anita Stewart, Enid Bennett, Mae Marsh and Dorothy Dalton, have merely retired. They are not failures. In most cases, they have made or married fortunes — sometimes both.
Some few have gone back to the stage — Madge Kennedy, Pauline Frederick and Vivian Martin, for instance.
Others seem to have dropped completely into oblivion, such as Alice Lake and Louise Glaum.
But the majority of the really Big Names have been in the game since the beginning. The years have only added to their fame, and their places have been made secure by money and accomplishment.
Mary Pickford, the Gish girls [Lillian Gish | Dorothy Gish], the Talmadges [Constance Talmadge | Norma Talmadge | Natalie Talmadge] and Alice Joyce are still favorites. The rising tide of new blood will eventually crowd them out of popular favor, but they will never be pushed down — they will retire, having found their pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
Those myriads who shift places on the ladder of Poverty Row are, generally speaking, the great middle class — good troupers with good names — with alternate good and bad luck — but of such as these, is the bulwark of the industry.
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Holly Wreaths
What are you going to do to make your house gay this Christmas? There are so many charming decorations you can employ, whether your house is large or small… or if you live in a modern apartment. And curiously enough the most effective decorations are sometimes the least expensive.
Next month Stephen Goosson, the artistic interior decorator for the First National Pictures, will give you a dozen or more suggestions for holiday decorations. Don’t miss Mr. Gooson’s page.
Let your house be the gayest, most Christmasy and artistically decorated house in the neighborhood.
Every advertisement in Motion Picture Magazine is guaranteed.
Collection: Motion Picture Magazine, December 1926