Vivian Martin — How I Became a Photoplayer (1916) 🇺🇸

Vivian Martin (1921) | www.vintoz.com

October 31, 2024

I have been asked by The Photo-Play Journal to write a short story on “How I Became a Photoplayer,” and accordingly will endeavor to present facts which, however, I am afraid will disclose nothing particularly startling.

by Vivian Martin

In fact, my entrance into the photoplay world was only a repetition of the action taken by many other actresses of the speaking stage, who saw the possibilities of the screen. It was during my engagement in The High Cost of Living on Broadway, a play that scored one of the biggest hits of the year, that I was finally won over to the silent drama to the extent of giving it a try-out. My first subject was “The Wishing Ring.” The success attained by this screen play is a matter of film history and needs no retelling here. Immediately upon seeing this photoplay projected for the first time at the Gold Room in the Hotel Astor to a large audience I concluded that motion pictures would be my future field of endeavor.

My advent to the professional stage, on the other hand, is a bit more interesting. Long before I had reached the age when the child ceases to write letters to Santa Claus, I played small parts in church entertainments, many of which had been witnessed by theatrical friends of my parents. I became quite famous in my little town as a child actress. This, however, was only natural, inasmuch as both my father and mother have appeared behind the footlights with some of the greatest theatrical celebrities this country has ever known.

While in the midst of a Sunday-school recitation one morning my mother rushed into the room waving a telegram, and, disregarding all class regulations, rushed me from the school house “Mr. Frohman has sent for you. You are to become a regular actress,” was all I could ascertain on my hasty trip homeward. While the maid was scouring my face with detestible soap that burned my eyes my mother read to me the telegram which caused all the excitement. It was from Charles Frohman’s office and requested that I leave immediately to play the title role of Peter Pan.

I will never forget that day’s excitement. Everything seemed to go wrong. In sewing a newly discovered rent in my best dress the maid ran the needle into her finger and spotted the pride of my wardrobe just where it was most conspicuous. This caused considerable pain to both the maid and myself, physical to her to the extent of a series of loud wails and mental to me as a result of the thought that I would not be able to wear my “bestest.” During our trip to the depot a fierce thunder storm set in, which was not the most comfortable thing that could happen, particularly when one is riding in an uncovered gig. Dripping wet we arrived at the station, only to learn that the train left on time and that we were just late enough to miss it. In lieu of the two-hour wait that was in store for us we drove back to the house and proceeded to dress all over again.

The reappearance of the sun proved a good omen, however, for our spirits rose immediately, we arrived at the depot in plenty of time to catch the train and were soon comfortably installed for a long journey. A few days afterward I was initiated to the life of a star at the head of an all-children cast. Peter Pan proved an instantaneous success, with the result that I appeared in this production for an entire season. From the very beginning my career has been most active. I really do not remember ever having what one might term a real vacation. As a kiddie I appeared in productions of various nature on tour, always traveling with my mother, who gave me my education. My first appearance in an ingénue part was in Charles Frohman’s Father and the Boys, with William H. Crane. Other engagements in well-known productions followed successively, including such plays as The Spendthrift, with Fred Thompson, Officer 666Stop ThiefThe Marriage Game and The High Cost of Loving.

Although I always realized the possibilities in motion pictures, yet I often wondered if I were adapted to this sort of work. The phrase, “one trial will convince you” may be applied to my case, for, as mentioned before, upon seeing my initial effort on the screen I knew that I had a big future in this field. At present I am appearing in what I feel will be the greatest film drama I have ever played on. Under the management of the Oliver Morosco Photoplay Company and Pallas Pictures, whose product is released on the Paramount Program, I feel sure that I will be able to accomplish big things.

My first vehicle under the terms of my new long-term contract with this organization is entitled “Nell of Thunder Mountain,” an original scenario by Alice von Saxmar. Nell is a mountain girl, reached by the spirit of progress to the extent of rebelling against the sordid conditions and stifling scope of her life. Although different from her people, she yet retains a great love for her own kind. The story will end in a most unusual way that will grip any audience with its logic.

I am most enthusiastic about this film, and think it will immediately prove conclusively why I have turned down several competing offers of late in favor of that presented to me by Mr. Morosco. Staged up in the pine forests of California, at the top of the mountains, and in a spot of wild beauty, this photoplay will offer a picture in every sense of the word.

However, I do not wish to become a bore by enthusing too much over my new photoplay, but when you see it I should be glad to receive a letter from you stating just how you like it. A letter addressed to me in care of The Photo-Play Journal will always reach me. Should you do this and at the same time honor me to the extent of desiring my autographed photo, I shall be glad to send you one.

Vivian Martin — How I Became a Photoplayer (1916) | www.vintoz.com

Collection: Photoplay Magazine, August 1916
(The Photo-Play Journal for August, 1916)

Vivian Martin (1921) | www.vintoz.com

The most convincing ingénue is the most sophisticated. We recommend Miss Vivian Martin, who combines humor with naïveté to the edification of all audiences. Long absent from the screen, she returns in a new picture.

Photo by: Alfred Cheney Johnston (1885–1971)

Collection: Photoplay Magazine, January 1921