What Kind of a Fellow Is — Cromelin? (1918) 🇺🇸

Being a glance at the real human side of the big men of the picture game caught in action

by William A. Johnston

They don’t know Paul Cromelin half as well fifty miles west of New York as they should — or at least half as well as we wish they did.

Our desire for a wider knowledge of Paul Cromelin is prompted by two reasons.

First, as a measure of justice to the man and the work he has done, unheralded, for the picture and the picture industry.

Second, for the sake of film men themselves — for knowing Paul Cromelin is to give new vigor to your faith and love for the picture industry.

Perhaps you get our drift. If we are speaking in a measured manner unwonted in this series, then place the blame on Mr. Cromelin. It’s difficult to get either flippant, facetious or “fresh” about Paul Cromelin.

He’s too much the staid and serious business man type — not a gentleman, but a gentleman.

We would say that he is the picture of a prosperous and conservative banker — only that would be going to the extreme of cold austerity. Perhaps we can strike the proper and happy medium by saying that he is the picture of the same banker after you have just paid off your notes.

Now you know what we mean.

Film Square first knew Paul Cromelin some four years ago when through Cosmofotofilm he showed it some excellent British-made productions.

Film Square knows him now principally as the active head of the largest buyer of film for the foreign market, though his interest is by no means small in domestic film matters.

And for the years in between Film Square has a lot of good things to say.

One man, for example, told us the other day, “If it hadn’t been for the untiring efforts of Paul Cromelin I don’t believe we’d have a National Association today. He was one of the hardest workers of the little group that worked so hard to bring the Association into being out of the wreckage of the Board of Trade.” We know of but one black spot on Paul Cromelin’s name. We wouldn’t be so cruel as to mention it here — only that we promised at the outset to tell you the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth about these supposedly impeccable film men. We have spared no one — even to Jesse Lasky’s cornet playing. But all this is as nothing when compared to the dread secret of Paul Cromelin’s life that we must bare.

Here it is:

He lives in Hackensack!

Just think of it. Albert E. Smith has his Flatbush, Hiram Abrams his Portland, Ad Kessel [Adam Kessel Jr.] his Keysville, but — Hackensack!

Once more — if the strain is not too great — think of it!

Not satisfied with confessing to an expert knowledge of the film desires of the United Kingdom and Ireland, Tasmania, Straits Settlements, Golden Gulch and the beach at Waikiki —

Paul Cromelin lives in Hackensack.

And we’ll bet that Hackensack, in all its Jersey bliss, doesn’t know that it harbors in its midst the most accomplished wearer of dress clothes in the great and glorious Fifth — otherwise Motion Picture — Industry.

We know it — if Hackensack doesn’t.

The fact first came to our knowledge three years ago at the testimonial dinner given to Samuel Rothapfel in the Hotel Astor.

We said then that he would never have a rival in the art of gracefully dignifying an afterdinner period. And he hasn’t. Despite the “fillum” game. Despite, even — The pernicious influence of Hackensack.

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Illustration by: Harry Palmer (Harry Samuel Palmer) (1882–1955)

Collection: Motion Picture News, May 1918