Richard Tucker — Sans Grease Paint and Wig (1914) 🇺🇸

Richard Tucker — Sans Grease Paint and Wig (1914) | www.vintoz.com

October 15, 2024

“Not that I would have objected to becoming president of the bank, some day,” said Dick Tucker, as we moved down two places on the long bench in the outer office of the Edison studio, thus making room for the golden-haired child and her mother, “but there were several men ahead of me who would have had to die first. And,” he added, yielding another inch in favor of the child, “they were discouragingly healthy.”

by Mabel Condon

“Ungrateful,” I sympathized and fell in with the suggestion that we remove to the small bench beside the small window.

“I was born in Brooklyn and went to school there,” went on the man who is a favorite lead in Edison pictures, his tone intimating that he hadn’t at all minded being born in Brooklyn and the result of his schooling speaking for itself in the culture which distinguishes him. Culture, however, is really his birthright, as is also the quiet dignity which by its very nature makes the role of dignified lead his preference. He is often seen in comedy and character parts, however, but to know him well is to know that dignified leads are the beneficiary when played by the calm, cool, gray-eyed Dick Tucker [Richard Tucker]. His is the variety of dignity and calm that causes waiters to give him instant attention, always. That’s the type of man Mr. Tucker is.

“But it was in Rochester that I began work as a bank-clerk,” he took up his life history. “I was promoted four times; twice because of the men resigned, and then I stayed at one desk because nothing short of resignation or death on the part of the men in advance of me could have put me any higher. And there’s nothing easy about working in a bank,” he assured me. “The bank-clerk’s work begins when the bank closes. And the usual hours in that Rochester bank were from eight-thirty to eight-thirty. There was nothing to look forward to, so I quit. Besides,” he added, and it gave promise of being the real reason, “I had been studying plays and hoped I might get a chance to go on the stage. So naturally, I came to New York.”

“Naturally” I echoed, and wondered how long the portly gentleman with the out-size handkerchief would tolerate the feet of the golden-haired child in their tattoo against his white trouser-leg.

“And how long before the chance came?” I requested. And the man with the pompadoured brown hair that waves precisely and has the look of never being other than just that way, replied:

“O, some time. There was more studying and there were several positions as bookkeeper in big stores before I got a try-out on the stage, at all. I was living with an uncle,” he diverged and smiled a ghost of a pleasant smile at memories that must have been pleasant. “He was an Episcopal minister,” he resumed, “and a man of broad ideas. So I went on the stage. Of course, I suped for a time. Then my first triumph came as leading man in stock. Afterward, there were two years with Mrs. Fiske in Pillars of Society; then Hauptmann’s Hannele and later the final tour of Salvation Nell. And between times there was stock in the middle West.”

“And pictures?” I was about to ask when the inner door of the outer office flew open and through both door and office rushed William Sadler, the fashionably wide skirt of a winter over-coat outspread behind him.

“O-hello!” he greeted us from the outside of the small window. “Just came out for a breath of air,” he gasped smilingly from behind the handkerchief that mopped the rotund surface of the Sadler countenance.

The fascinated gaze of the portly gentleman clung to the fur collar which stood up about the Sadler ears; and the portly one’s out-size handkerchief began animated service.

“Ready — Sadler!” came somebody’s voice and he of the overcoat responded with a “So long!” and a rate of speed equalled only by his coming.

“He’s working in the ‘My Friend From India’ film,” explained Mr. Tucker as we brought our heads in out of the window. It was then that we noticed that the portly one had removed the white trouser-leg from the vicinity of the child’s active feet and, also, that he had converted Mr. Tucker’s magazine into a fan. The result was an expression of almost perfect peace on the portly features, and as Mr. Tucker didn’t regret his magazine, peace continued to hover over the outer office.

“And pictures?” I was again inspired to remind Mr. Tucker, but this time it was Andy Clark who hove into view and the outer office. He wore the suit that is most typical of Andy, a messenger-boy’s uniform, and it did not require the damp bundle under Andy’s arm to let one know that he had been swimming. For his hair was damply sleeked down over his forehead and his face shone with the variety of shine that results only from allowing the sun and air to serve as a towel.

“S’ fine!” commented Andy with a nod, as he strode on through the inner door. And from that we judged that the water and sport had met with the approval of the athletic Andy.

“Pictures?” Mr. Tucker answered the question I didn’t know he had heard. “I came to the Edison company fifteen months ago, and it’s the only studio I’ve worked in. I’ve had other offers,” he went on. And then said a thing that is characteristic of Dick Tucker. “But, I’d sacrifice much for class; so I’ve stayed on.”

And “class” is the quality that distinguishes whatever part Mr. Tucker plays. “Of course, salary is conceded to be the big consideration, but I think that a name that carries with it prestige, is just as big a consideration.”

The film that Mr. Tucker had been awaiting a call for, almost all the afternoon, came just about the time he guessed it wouldn’t. And as I departed from the outer office the golden-haired child and the portly gentleman, the latter making violent use of Mr. Tucker’s magazine, still remained on the bench and the waiting-list.

To Film Works of Big Authors

The Universal Film Manufacturing Company has secured the film rights to several of the books and short stories by the leading writers of today. Among the authors names appearing on the list of coming productions by this company are Annie Fellows Johnstone, George Gibbs, Eugene Marlowe Rhodes, Campbell MacCollough, Molly Elliott Seawell, George Bronson Howard, Bruno Lessing, Louis Joseph Vance, Clara Louise Burnham, O. Henry, Jacques Futrelle, Arthur Stringer, Eleanor Gates, Booth Tarkington and William MacLeod Raine. The work of other well known writers will be added from time to time.

Herbert Rawlinson and Anna Little in the two-reel Rex drama “A Prince of Bavaria.”

All Star Producing “Shore Acres”

For the production in motion pictures of the great drama of plain “down east” folk, “Shore Acres” by the author and eminent character actor James A. Herne, the All Star Feature Corporation which will present this success has engaged a cast which would do justice to any Broadway theatrical offering.

Charles A. Stevenson is cast in the role of Nathaniel Berry; William Riley Hatch who played Capt. Williams in All Star’s “Paid In Full” and Peter Galbraith in “Pierre of the Plains” by the same company, will play Martin Berry. Conway Tearle, the popular Broadway leading man, is cast as Sam, and E. J. Connelley, one of America’s leading character actors is cast as “Blake”; Violet Horner, formerly with the Imp, Reliance, Biograph and Vitagraph companies will play “Helen” and little Madge Evans, known throughout the world as an artist’s model, will portray the character of “Mildred.”

John H. Pratt, under whose personal supervision “Shore Acres” is being made, is now at Block Island with his company where, after arrangements had been made, the entire island was turned over to the All Star company that the production would be accurately pictured.

“Our Mutual Girl” in Kewpie Land

The excitement of her lost cameos at an end Margaret, “Our Mutual Girl,” seeks new diversions and a trip to Gloucester to see John Hays Hammond is planned. Miss Jean Parke agrees to accompany Margaret on the trip but before starting they decide to visit Miss Rose O’Neill, the internationally famous writer and artist and creator of the Kewpie dolls, the happiest sprites in all the realms of toyland. Miss O’Neill welcomes them and after a chat gives Margaret one of the larger sizes of the dolls for which she is famous and several smaller ones. In the accompanying illustration “Our Mutual Girl” is seen with an armful of the presents and that she is more than pleased with them is clearly shown by the expression on her face. Miss O’Neill’s home is justly called “Kewpie Land” for on all sides of it are found the delightful dolls. Some are large and some small but the ever-cheerful expression on the faces of all is the same.

Margaret and the Kewpies.

Balboa Forms New Comedy Company

The well-known vaudeville team of Ben Deely and Marie Wayne, of “The New Bellboy” fame, have joined the Balboa Amusement Producing Company, at its Long Beach, Cal., studios. Mr. Deely has evolved a series of comedy adventures of “Ima Simp, Detective,” and has secured the services of William Wolbert, former director of Joker comedies, as director of the new Balboa aggregation. Charles Dudley, who has been a member of the Balboa’s organization since it was formed, is one of the funmakers working with Deely & Wayne. Other character and comedy players in the new company are Henry Stanley, a veteran actor, Archie Warren, Brent Carruthers, Suzanne Rogers, Robert Barrow and Alice Brookton.

Collection: Motography Magazine, September 1914