Richard Barthelmess — An Impression (1920) 🇺🇸

Could any girl, be she in far-off Japan, where the cherry-blossoms perfume the atmosphere with a soft, sweet odor, or in Northern America, where the winds sweep, fragrant and invigorating, with the tang of pine-trees, or be she of the British Empire or war-scarred France, indeed, whatever corner of the globe she inhabits, could any girl, I repeat, be granted one magical wish on the mysteriously endowed carpet of Bagdad or one rub of Aladdin’s glistening lamp, she would wish, I venture to say, herself in my place — lunching with Richard Barthelmess.

by Hazel Simpson Naylor

For Dick, as his intimate friends call him, is perhaps the most popular idol of the screen today.

Now, every girl knows just what young Barthelmess stands for to her. She knows just why his shadow self is her ideal, but she doesn’t know what he is like in reality. Is he just as ideal, just as handsome, just as good and true and manly, she wonders. And, for the pleasure of every girl who has idealized him, I am writing my candid impressions of Dick Barthelmess.

Rather short is Barthelmess and sturdily built. Young he is and clean-cut, with astoundingly large brown eyes — the eyes of a visionary, which belie his somewhat practical manner and business-like ideas. His hair is shiny black and brushed sleekly to his well-shaped head. His handshake is hardy and his success has not as yet made him blasé to interviewers. In fact, he finds them embarrassing and spends most of the allotted time trying to turn the conversation from himself. He has sound, manly ideas about life in general, but he is still too much the boy, too busy living and enjoying all the good things that fate has suddenly poured into his lap, to waste his time in hot-house philosophy.

He likes his machine and — week-end house parties. He likes to dance and go to the ball game, and he just revels in New York, where ‘You can buy honest-to-goodness clothes and see some real shows!’ In other words, he likes precisely what any normal-minded man of his age would like. There is nothing hectic about him; a certain elation, however, and a certain busy thrill at life does characterize him. He is at the top of the wave while he is young and he can’t help exulting any more than a winning race-horse can help prancing and holding its head proudly aloft.

For Dick Barthelmess has earned his success.

Altho his mother was a well-known actress, he was not ashamed to start at the very bottom; in fact, he worked his way into pictures as an extra at Ithaca, where Wharton Bros, were producing a serial. Later Nazimova gave him a boost by offering him a part in ‘War Brides.’ But for the most part his success has been slowly and carefully built. Rung by rung he has mounted the ladder of achievement, making each part given him a trifle more sincere, more likeable until with his portrayal of the Chink, in Broken Blossoms, he gave the shadow world a really great characterization.

I do not know, nor can I guess, how much pep and push and righting spirit he would have if fate were against him. Would he be hardy enough to fight adversity? I cannot say. But I do know, that with success, he is modest, shy, gentlemanly, unspoiled, sensitive to criticism, and whole-heartedly enjoying life.

‘I never go after a part if I think I am going to be refused,’ said Barthelmess. ‘It would shake whatever confidence I have in myself too much. For instance, one of my ambitions is to be a writer, but I don’t like to venture sending out my ideas, I know if they were returned I should never write again.’

And so you see how sensitive he is.

‘Sure I’d like to be married,’ he went on, ‘that is, if I were really in love. A fellow gets lonesome you know. But what girl would want to sew on my buttons for life? I have yet to find her.’

Across the dining-room from us sat Ethel Barrymore’s three beautiful children with their nurse. Barthelmess called my attention to them.

‘Aren’t they attractive youngsters?’ he asked. ‘That’s what I would like, a son. I think it would be great to have a little chap to cart around with one and watch develop. I’d like to adopt a boy and bring him up, all by myself.’

Mr. Barthelmess started to toy with his omelet, which is a sure sign that it is time for an interviewer to vanish. Also. one or two popular stars started paging ‘Dick.’ The brown eyes glowed with renewed interest in life, while Mr. Barthelmess bade me farewell.

‘We’re off for a wonderful spin in the Country. You’ll forgive me, won’t you, but it does seem silly for a man to talk of his art, his favorite color. Tell ‘em I love baseball, football, prize fights, the theater, motoring — and tell them I am tickled to death to be in New York for a while — having the time of my life. So long!’

—

The young Barthelmess has sound, manly ideas about life in general, but he is still too much the boy, too busy living and enjoying all the good things that Fate has suddenly poured into his lap to waste his time in hot-house philosophy

—

‘Sure I’d like to be married,’ said ‘Dick’ Barthelmess [Richard Barthelmess], ‘that is if I were really in love. A fellow gets lonesome you know. But what girl would want to sew on my buttons for life? I have yet to find her’

Photo by Abbe

—

Collection: Motion Picture Magazine, February 1920