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fi a 1912 / 



Vol. 1 APRIL, 1912 No. 1 

"Man carries under his hat a private 
theatre wherein a greater drama is 
acted than is ever performed on the 
mimic stage, beginning and ending in 
eternity."— Carlyle. 


Scenario Proceedure at the Studio 


My Experience as a Scenario Writer 


Devoted to the Interests of the 

Scenario Writer 
I 1_ 

x s^> Ik 



The Photo Playwright 

Your subscription will be of more 
value and encouragement to us than 
ten subscriptions a year from now. 

Everybody in the business should 
have it, for it is valuable for man 
and boy, old-timer and beginner. 

Its purpose is to assist the scenario writer and promote his 
welfare, being devoted to the best interests of picture playwrights. 
It gives such information as is desired and needed by students of 
the photoplay. 

Make All Remittances Payable To 

The Photoplay Enterprise Association 


Single Copy . 
For the Year . 

. ... 15 cents 


Send your subscription today and get every issue. 
Send it now, if possible. 


Vol. 1 

APRIL, 1912 

No. 1 

Scenario Procedure at the Studio 2 

Horace G. Plimpton 

My Experience as a Scenario Writer 4 

Elmer W. Romine 

A Word From Thomas Bedding 6 

Some Recent Photoplays 8 

Conversation, Gossip, and Otherwise .10 

Photoplay Distinctions 13 

A pril Calendar 14 

More Money for Scenarios... 17 

Photoplay Notes, Short Paragraphs, Etc., for the Scena- 
rio Writers 

IT is ONE 

Copyright 1912 by 

The Photoplay Enterprise 


it is 




The Photo Playwright 

Devoted to the Interests of the Scenario Writer. 






NOTE — The following contribution from Mr. Romine's pen is typical 
of the trials and tribulations endured by all photo playwrights. Indeed, 
the author was fortunate in selling his maiden script, for there are many 
Who write dozens and dozens before grasping the essentials. We present 
Mr. Romine's contribution as a help to those who have failed thus far. 

Havings called myself a scenario writer I must confess I 
am not a professional by any means, as 1 have only been writing 
moving picture plays for a period of less than six months. 

In my younger days I managed to knock out a common 
school education, afterwards utilizing my spare time as an 
amateur entertainer. I had a penchant for art, reported for 
a~ newspaper, wrote short stories and studied law, all of which 
experiences I found were most beneficial to me when 1 began 
the writing of moving picture plays. 

Being a close observer of moving pictures and believing 
them to be the coming sensation of the age, I concluded to try 
my hand at submitting ideas which might be reproduced in the 
form of moving pictures on the screen. 

What should I write about? 1 had a hundred different 
incidents which I had either read of, seen, or jotted down in 
my note book. At all hazards 1 considered that I must make 
good on my first scenario and whether it be comedy or drama, 
decided it should be as perfect as my ability and experience 
would permit. 

I decided on a comedy, an incident of which was an actual 
happening. Then came the hard part, working up the origi- 
nality of circumstances into scenes. How should it begin? 
What would be the circumstances of the ending? After days 
of thought and brain racking I had prepared my plot. Then 
I visited a Moving Picture Show and concluded my play was as 
good as any I had seen. I read my scenario over and over 
again, selected one of the largest comedy film companies, smiled 
a grateful smile of satisfaction, and mailed it. I congratulated 
myself, commended upon its originality and what seemed to me, 
the clever scenes. I saw in my visions, my play depicted on 
the screen and could hear the crowds saying, wonderful, mar- 
velous. Each day of waiting seemed a year and nearly three 

weeks slipped by and I thought my scenario had fallen upon 
good ground. 

In the meantime I had tried my hand at writing dramatic 
scenario and submitted one to a large producer. My prospects 
seemed bright, in my estimation. The halo of success, I 
thought, hovered over me, when one morning something 
dropped and with a'great thud, struck me a heavy blow. Dazed 
for a moment I opened my eyes and there before me in the 
mail were my two scenarios, returned as not being available. 

If you ever saw a whipped puppie, I was one. Submissive, 
meek and mild, all my proud feathers plucked, I thought I saw 
in the dim mists beyond, my future success as a scenario 
writer mocking at me across a deep chasm. My courage failed 
me, confidence seemed to lurk just outside of my reach. I 
groaned a groan of despair and concluded my ability as a sce- 
nario writer was insufficient to fill up the gap. 

Why had these scenarios been returned? said I, simply 
because they were not available to the company to whom they 
had been sent? Then why not try others? After a few days 
my courage recuperated; I came back to life, so to speak, and 
selecting from my list the best film companies I could, started 
over again by sending them my scenarios. They were received 
and accepted, at a small price, however, but I had learned my 
first lesson, "If a scenario does not take with one company, 
keep it moving," for it's an old saying and a true one, as well 
as a symbolical characteristic of human nature, that two per- 
sons never think alike on the same subject. 

I have written about a dozen scenarios, the majority of 
which have been accepted and I feel most grateful for the old 
adage — "If at first you don't succeed, try, try again!" — and for 
keeping everlastingly at it, instead of giving up because my 
first attempts had the appearance of failures. 

I find it very essential to make every plot as close to life as 
possible, full of strong scenes and circumstances, then the more 
readily the scenario is accepted. I make frequent visits to 
Moving Picture Shows, digest each scene carefully, note the 
sub-titles, location of and length of scenes and study the needs 
of film manufacturers, which I deem most important. 

When writing I try to keep in mind, the screen, imagine 
I can see my characters in action as they enter and exit and by 
so doing I find that each scene develops into a complete and 
finished picture, making a logical sequence of events, capable 
of being thoroughly understood by anyone. 


Thomas Bedding, publicty manager for the Imp Films Co., 
following the decision of the judges in the Imp Company's 
scenario contest, prepared the following sheet of instructions 
to those who desired to take up scenario writing. Mr. Bedding 
states the desires of the Imp Company plainly and dispassion- 
ately. The instructions are rather long, but we print them in 

A great many people underestimate the requirements for 
successful scenario writing. It is not merely the conception 
of a story with just some kind of a plot; the plot must be 

The first flash across the brain when one writes a play is 
"the motive of the story. The prime essential is the idea. It is 
the essence of the plot, but it is without avail if it provides 
no opportunity for silent acting. 

As in a play, the construction of the moving picture scenario 
embodies four stages: Introduction, development, climax and 
finale. The introduction should group the characters and indi- 
cate their relations at a glance, for there is no time, as in stage 
representation, to gradually introduce ehe dramatis personae 
and explain the plot. 

A point that adds greatly to the possibilities of a successful 
picture is the introduction of an element of suspense. This 
may be in the form of either an interrupted situation, or what 
is considered still stronger, the manipulation of an anti-climax; 
that is, a sudden but temporary reversal or change of situation 
between the climax and finale. 

In comedies, extremely complicated relations should be 
avoided, not only because this is not the best form of comedy, 
but also for the reason that this kind of play has run its gamut 
of forms; and novelties are the making of the most desirable 
pictures. Serio-comedy is the most acceptable, with farce- 
comedy second; it will be noticed that both these forms of play 
necessarily entail an absolutely defined plot. 

The moving picture play has altogether outgrown themes 
of single individuals in a series of incidents that have no rela- 
tion to one another except for the presence of the main char- 
acter. For instance, the mischievous small boy in a series of 
pranks; the victim of sneeze powder in various mishaps; the 
near-sighted man, etc. They are all passe. 

The successful novelist or playwright does not necessarily 
make a successful moving picture playwright merely by apply- 
ing the principles of construction. Moving pictures afford a 
new school of composition, and before one attempts to write 
for them he must understand them. He must go to see them 
often, studying not only the limitations they place on the art of 
acting, but also the possibilities of the camera, scenic con- 
struction, etc. 

Continuity of events is a feature of the best pictures ever 
made. Avoid terse "twenty-years after" stories. 

We prefer morern American plays, written in concise, 
narrative form. The average length of a film is 1,000 feet, and 
this takes about twenty minutes to show. An entire story ought 
to be clearly told in six hundred words, introduced by a cast 
of characters. It is most desirable that material be typewritten. 
Avoid stories that include the portrayal of murders, suicides or 
any form of viciousness; remember that the moving picture 
counts millions of children among its patrons, and young minds 
are easily impressed. 


Our business is practically to tell writers how to make 
money. To bring them wider experience, more efficient meth- 
odsj more logical ideas. And to guard them against mistakes. 

And there lies our pride and incentive in offering you THE 
PHOTO PLAYWRIGHT, a monthly magazine of 32 pages de- 
voted to the interests of the scenario writer. 

We intend to make it just as helpful as is possible. It will 
give such full information as is desired and needed by students 
of the photoplay, devoting regular departments to advising you 
monthly as to "what is what" among the manufacturers. We 
will try to make this magazine indispensable to the photo play- 
wright. '!TO»W| 

We want you to become a subscriber — today, if possible. 
Send us $1.00 for a twelve months' subscription and we'll 
count you as our very best friend and give you a good treat on 
the fifth day of every month. Make your next move now by 
sending us your subscription. 


Boonville, Ind. 


In this department we intend to consider each month, two of the 
recently issued photoplays with a view to pointing out their good and 
bad points. 

The Biograph Company prepares its own scenarios. Both 
result of the cudgeling of brains in the editorial sanctum at the 
Biograph's quarters. As a plot worth while, we endorse "THE 
SUNBEAM," but must say that if "TOE MENDER OF NETS" 
had been written by any one other than a respected Biograph 
employee, it would have never passed muster. Let us consider 
the plots of both. 

The sunbeam is a little girl, and she brings the substance of things 
hoped for into two lonely wasted lives that start anew with the fruits 
thereof. The little film is gloriously fresh and unusual, and brings with 
it a deal of warmth of feeling in expressing those things that lie close 
to the heart. Little Sunbeam's mother dies in a pleasant dream, but 
Sunbeam does not know. She only knows that she is a lonely little 
girl, and she wanders forth and enters the heart of the blighted woman 
below, who learns for the first time the secrets of child love that had 
long been absent from her. But Sunbeam has further mission across 
the way in the old bachelor, who has broken friendship with the blighted 
lady, because of the mischievous boy of the tenement who had tied their 
doors across the hall and caused them to lose their dignity by a sudden 
fall when they least expected it. Sunbeam had hidden the lady's hair 
puff, and it was necessary to know just where it went, so the lady walked 
into the bachelor's room. Then the mischievous boy who had caused all 
the trouble in the first place proceeded to unconsciously mend matters 
by placing a scarlet fever sign on the door and without notifying the 
police. Thus the bachelor and the maiden lady were held in quarantine. 
They learned the bliss of domestic life over some toast and tea, and 
sought the child's mother. They found a dead woman, but filled an 
aching void in their own hearts by claiming each other's love through 
their mother love for the little girl. The entire piece is played with 
exceptional art and nature, and the little girl verily is all that the title 
suggests, but the characterization given the old maid is one of remark- 
able expression and viewpoint, and presents to the spectator the under- 
lying significance of such a life. The contrasting developments of the 
story are blended with consummate art. 

One must see the picture to note how logically the story is 
built. There is absolutely nothing amiss. There is a reason 


for everything. Nothing is far-fetched. It is good from the 
start. Now as to 'THE MENDER OF NETS." 

A little fisher maiden, the mender of nets, is in love with Tom, a 
young fisherman. Tom is weak and is face to face with the problem of 
deciding between his love for the mender and his duty to another girl, 
who has sacrificed everything for him. He secretly meets his old sweet- 
heart and her pleas are overheard by her brother, who starts to wipe out 
the dishonor by killing Tom. Through a marine glass, the little mender 
sees the whole thing and she hurries to the young fisherman's hut to 
save him. Arriving in the nick of time she turns the maddened brother 
away and reunites the old sweetheart and the fisherman. Then she goes 
back broken hearted to her nets again. The story is frankly melo- 
dramatic, but it is consistent in its development, gripping in its element 
of suspense and vigorous in its force. 

Isn't it an old theme, though? It is the same old story of 
the girl who goes wrong because of too much love, and her 
frantic appeal to her weak lover for protection. "THE MEND- 
ER OF NETS" loves the same man, but gives him up when his 
life is in danger. She should have, in real life, left him to his 
fate — we think she would have left him to meet his doom with 
the maddened brother. True, the story is consistent in its 
development, but how many scenario writers can sell a plot 

"THE MENDER OF NETS" was produced solely because 
some Biograph employee prepared it; because Mary Pickford 
could carry out the story in a new way. When you are ready 
to write your next scenario see that it is more like "THE 
SUNBEAM," and in no way like "THE MENDER OF NETS." 
Of course we mean that you make use of an original idea and 
build it as has been done in "THE SUNBEAM." "THE 
MENDER OF NETS" is immoral. 


Said Johnny one day to friend Willum 
"I have some ideas for a fillum." 

Said Will with a frown. 

"You'd best write 'em down 
Before you get careless and spill 'em." 


It was the editor's experience recently to note the following: 

A picture was exhibited at a theater where projection is 
always well done. It was an excellent film but the story it was 
meant to tell was absolutely unintelligible. No one knew what 
it was about. If sub-titles and notes had been judiciouly used 
the picture would have made a decided hit. As it was the audi- 
ence gave unmistakable signs of irritation and more than a few 
remarks were heard to the effect that "One has to do too much 
hard guessing to get any sense out of some of these pictures." 

A few days later at an exchange a picture was being ex- 
hibited by the manufacturer's agent. It was a good story made 
clear by several scripts and lengthy leaders. When the run of 
the film was finished, the exchange man exploded as follows: 

"Say, do you expect me to pay 15 cents a foot for all that 
writing and reading in that picture? Not much." 

So we say to the scenario writer: Make your stories just 
as clear and understandable as possible with the use of good 
necessary leaders, but don't think you have to write a novel to 
get the story over. The exchange man doesn't want to pay 15 
cents a foot for "writing and reading." 

As a word of encouragement to scenario writers — Gellett 
Burgess' maiden attempt at scenario writing fell flat, and it 
must be remembered that Mr. Burgess is one of the most able 
and widely known fiction writers in the country today. He is 
the author of the world famous poem, "The Purple Cow," also 
of the play, "The Cave Man." 

"Persistent Mr. Prince," by Mr. Burgess is intended to be 
a comedy, but the author combines some old time incidents, 
making use of the persistent wooer idea and evolves a clever 
story that would make a cracker-jack of a magazine story but 
couldn't possibly get over in motion pictures because its humor 
is lacking. Remember, action is essential in motion pictures. 

Mr. Burgess is not discouraged at his first attempt failing 
to "get over," and he has advised us that he is going to attend 
picture theaters oftener and "get the hang" of things, then 
tackle some plots that are bothering him. Here's to Gellett 
Burgess, and he gets from $200 to $500 for his magazine stories. 
Just think, a real writer in the picture game. 


"The Magazine Maker" for March contains two squibs that 
may interest the photo playwright. The first reads: 

"When I am working on a particularly trying scene I get 
out my envelope of buttons and set the scene like a stage. 
These buttons are my stock company, each one representing a 
character in the play I am working on. When a character 
moves either up stage or down I move the button-being corre- 
spondingly. In this way I know exactly where each person 
is on the stage and just where he will cross to make his exit. 
It helps me visualize my play most wonderfully. — V. W. T., 
Quincy Street, Brooklyn, New York." 

And the second says: 

"A blank page in front and a 'backer' keep a manuscript 
from looking tired and travel stained so soon. I put one in 
front of my story and on this my name and address and the 
title of the story. The sheet back of manuscript is blank. These 
protective sheets are easily and quickly replaced when soiled by 
fresh ones, thus keeping the story looking fresh and inviting. — 
G. C, New York City." 

"In Payment Full," an intense picture drama issued by the 
Rex Co., is the first photoplay to be made which is entirely void 
of sub-titles. The scenario was prepared by the Rex staff of 
scenario editors and critics especially for Marion Leonard. 
This company desires strong, intense emotional plots suited to 
Miss Leonard. 

The Eclair Co., also the Edison Co., have begun to announce 
with their films, the name of the scenario writer. Both con- 
cerns are using the author's name in their advertising matter 
and in the film with the subject announcement. Undoubtedly 
this is a move for the better. 


The following is from the pen of Epes Winthrop Sargent, 
formerly scenario editor for the Lubin Company and at present 
the editor of a scenario department for "The Moving Picture 
World." It is so good that we are forced to clip it from that 
publication and use it without asking permission, fearing we 
may be refused the privilege. 

"Did you ever get a grouch on an editor? Were you ever 


filled with a wild desire to take a train straight to the studio and 
lick him because he marked up your script, or suggested that 
he had seen the idea before or something like that? Ever feel 
burning thoughts that you'd like to write in blood on the back 
of the offending editor's neck? 

'The chances are that if you've been in the writing game 
for any length of time you have. But what's the use? There 
are about twenty-five film companies buying scripts. After 
you've written twenty-five letters you're without a market unless 
you send in under some other name. 

"Write your letter, by all means, but unless you're positive 
you are through wanting to do business with that studio, don't 
mail it. Keep it to look at and chuckle over, but don't send it 
unless you get money from home or have a regular job and 
do not need to sell scenarios. 

"Of course, at the moment, you feel that you wouldn't send 
another script to that particular editor to save yourself from 
starvation. You've been aggrieved and you want to pour out 
your vials of wrath on his devoted head. Go ahead and pour; 
spill it all out on nice, clean 8^x11 paper. Tell him what his 
progenitors were like and what his descendants are' going to be 
like. Assure him that nature abhors a vacuum and that he 
ought to put a bullet in his head to let in the atmosphere. Be 
as mean and nasty and sarcastic as you darned well please, but 
after you've got it all out of your system wait a week before 
you send it. Nine times out of ten you won't. 

"An editor is a calloused cuss. If he had feelings to be 
hurt he wouldn't have lasted long enough to be an editor. He's 
used to abuse and sarcasm and the things that sound so cruel 
and cutting to you just make him laugh a little. Then he makes 
a mental note that you're a person to be avoided because you 
take up his time with your long letters and drops your next 
scripts, if there are any, into the envelope with a chill rejection 
slip and goes on to the next story cheered by the thought that 
the scenario supply is unlimited and they can get along without 
you anyway. He isn't sore; just a little tired, and wise in his* 
generation. He knows the futility of dealing with the person 
with an inflammatory brain and so he doesn't; not because his 
feelings have been hurt by what has been said, but because he 
is experienced and he knows that the man who grows abusive 
over a damaged script will make trouble in the long run and 
he cuts off further communication. 

"We do not always practice what we preach, but that does 


not affect the value of our sermon, and there never will be 
printed on this page advice more valuable than this: 'Write 
scenarios; not letters, when you want something to send an 
editor. Write letters, but DO NOT SEND THEM UNLESS 


Many professional fiction writers have endeavored to write 
photoplays — have written them — have had them rejected. Few 
have "made good." 

And in this respect, let it be understood that no matter 
how clever the writer of short stories may be, he is seldom 
able to construct an absolutely good scenario without aid. 

The photoplay is limited to certain rules, while in fiction, 
the rule generally accepted is that the "sky is the limit." In 
fiction one can do almost anything and everything. 

A story may open in the jungles of Africt, take the reader 
to the Thames River in London, switch to the Alps in Switzer- 
land , thence to Cuba and then to a ball room in New York City, 
but not so with the photoplay. 

The short story writer can describe his characters and tell 
their traits, but in the picture these traits and characters must 
be expressed by the actions of the characers. 

In the general make-up of the work, another and perhaps 
most important distinction between the short story and the 
photoplay is encountered. The short story is always continu- 
ous — the photoplay is necessarily broken by the division of 

And the distinctions between the photoplay and the legiti- 
mate drama are many. In fact, the two are as different as black 
and white. 

In a play the events that lead up to the conditions existing 
at the opening, and those that are supposed to transpire during 
he intervals between the acts must be deftly referred to by one 
or more of the characters in order that none of the details 
escape the spectator. 

But in the photoplay the scenes must give cause for the 
events that follow; there must be a sequence; the leaders used 
must connive with the story as is being unfolded by the pic- 
tures; and the story must be simple. 



NOTE — In this section each month we will give the names and ad- 
dresses of the manufacturers purchasing scenarios, with a statement 
of their needs at the time, also any other information that will prove of 
value to the photo playwright. 

LUBIN ^MANUFACTURING CO., Indiana Avenue, Philadel- 
phia, Pa. 

At present this company desires strong society dramas call- 
ing for all in-door scenes. They can also use strong military 
dramas which utilize bodies of Indians and cowboys. Payment 
is good. 

Ave., New York, N. Y. 

Will consider good, strong, original dramas. Must be orig- 
inal. All scenarios should be typewritten. This company has 
a scenario staff of its own that supplies the greater amount of 
material needed, consequently your scenarios must be good 
ones. Clean cut comedy in demand. Good pay. 

ESSANAY FILM MFG. CO., 1315-1333 Argyle St., Chicago, 111. 

Now producing four reels of pictures each week ana natu- 
rally need more scenarios than heretofore. Comedies much in 
demand. Good, strong dramas will sell. Good pay. 

MELIES FILM CO., Santa Paula, California. 

Desires cowboy and other Western dramas, also comedy 
dramas. No Indian pictures wanted. Must have original stuff. 
They promise to give immediate decision on scripts sent them. 

KALEM COMPANY, 235-239 W. 23d St., New York, N. Y. 

This company has six producing companies and pays well 
for genuine originality. Dramas wanted. They have a pro- 
ducing company at Luxor, Egypt, just now, but you should not 
send them Egyptian plots, or anything similar. All material 
for the Egyptian company was written months ago by Miss 
Gene Gauntier. 


Nothing wanted at present. Bert Adler, publicity man and 
scenario editor combined, writes all the scenarios. Mr. Adler 
also produces his own scenarios, now and then assuming the 
chief roles. A sort of exclusive company. 

SELIG POLYSCOPE CO., 20 East Randolph St., Chicago, 111. 

Very exacting. If you have a real plot, strong drama or a 
nerve tickling comedy send it to them. They pay good. This 
company has a large scenario staff. Don't feel disappointed if 
they buy your scenario then change it so you wouldn't know it. 

ECLAIR FILM CO., Fort Lee, N. J. 

Can use clean, possible comedies and dramas with American 
atmosphere. Pay is good. 


IMP FILMS CO., 102 W. 101st St., New York, N. Y. 

This company was formerly known as The Independent 
Motion Picture Co. Buying comedies and gripping dramas. 
Prices paid are average. 

RELIANCE STUDIO, 540 West 21st St., New York, N. Y. 

Desire intense emotional stories of American life, rep.ete 
with strong vital dramatic situations. Lately have turned to 
producing comedies. I'o v, es cm, Indian or Cowboy stuff 

Spencer, 1719 Allesandro St., Edendale, Los Angeles, Cal. 

This company states it is paying the very best prices lor 
the following type of stories: Indian-Military, All-Indian, In- 
dian-Emigrant and Trapper-Indian. ALL SCENARIOS MUST 
not in the market for any other sort of stories. 

SOLAX COMPANY, Flushing, N. Y. 

Want comedies suited to their comedian, Billy Quirk, Also 
buy good dramas. 

CHAMPION FILM CO., 12 East 15th St., New York, N. Y. 

Good comedies and intense dramas wanted. 

EDISON MFG. CO., 2826 Decatur Ave., Bedford Park, New 
York, N. Y. 

They employ a magazine reader who draws her salary for 
reading magazines to see that acceptable scripts are not 
"steals." Good dramas wanted, also clean cut comedies. Must 
be new stuff. Best paying company we know of. 

BIOGRAPH COMPANY, 11 E. 14th St., New York, N. Y. 

Scenarios not wanted just now. Save your postage. 

PATHE FRERES, 1-3-5 Congress St., Jersey City Heights, N. J. 

Buying good comedies and dramas having a big climax. 
Very exacting but pay very good for all material. 

POWERS MOTION PICTURE CO., 416 to 422 W. 216th St., 
New York, N. Y. 

Buying comedies and dramas. Practically any original sub- 
ect will be considered. Want single reel material. 

AMERICAN FILM MFG. CO., Bank Floor, Ashland Block, 
Chicago, 111. 

Good, strong, Western stories that are minus Indians. Single 
reel stories. Good comedies wanted. 

York, N. Y. 

Emotional dramas with stirring situations. Only good 
American stories need be sent them. No Western or Indian 
stories will be used. 


REX MOTION PICTURE MFG. CO., 537-79 11th Ave., New 
York, N. Y. 

Dramas of American atmosphere, clever of conception and 
replete with intense situations will find a market with this 

FOX MOTON PICTURE CO., 4600 Slnset Ave., Hollywood, 
Los Angeles, Cal. 

A new company which makes and sells its plays to other 
companies, the productions being exhibited under the pur- 
chasing company's trade mark. Indian and Western plots are 
wanted, also comedies. 


If you were the "Editor of Scenarios" for a moving, picture 
producer, what would you do when you received letters like 
the two printed below? A careful reading will convince you 
that the "editors" have their troubles just the same as the 
scenario writer. Such letters must be answered. Here they 
are — read them: 

"Now I am very interested in writting stories I have wrote several 
and been advised to send them to a film company. So now I have 
wrote a story which could be played and it would surely be liked for at 
company I was told to read it and was told they would dearly like it 
played. It is wrote very plain and on one side of the paper so it makes 
it easy to read and in large letters. One is a Love Story and the other 
a Sad Story and a Western Story but the one I am speaking about is: 
Mr. Clares Farm and his only son Ralph. It is a story that will bring 
tears to the eyes and besides it will make every one happy afterwhile. 
I go to the theater very often and enjoy it. If you think this story is 
alright why let me know and I will send it which I think it will I have 
not copied it from anything at all so please let me know." 

The next is from a lad of 14 years who desires to make a 
contract to supply any and all the scenarios the producers may 
need. It reads: 

"I was just reading some in the motion picture magazine and 1 
seen an offer made in there for a book but I have already learnt what 
that learns and if you would like me write sketches write me and say 
so and I think I can write some right good ones for you my name is 

, at Cape Charles, Va and If you write see my address I 

.mi a school boy at the tenth grade and will garage next year I hope, 
if you think it is necessary to write you write to me and let me know. 

Yours cencearly, 



From all sides we hear that the prices to be paid for 
scenarios are going up. We hope so. Of course we realize 
that a scenario is paid for according to its merit, but we must 
believe that there are many worth more than the price paid, 
and again, equally as many not worth the $10 and $15 given 
the writer. 

Real picture stories are worth $100.The powerful, unusual, 
compelling and altogether human plot is wanted by every man- 
ufacturer, and when they realize that the only way to get these 
sort of stories will be to raise the price for scenarios, they 
will raise the price. It is the only way they can attract the best 
writers and infuse them to turn out the best copy that is pos- 

The "101" Bison Company, now located at Los Angeles, is 
proclaiming its willingness to pay top-notch prices for genuine 
Military, Pioneer, and Historical scenarios that are good for 
two reel productions. 

The Reliance Company is offering $50 and $75 for real 
picture scenarios; the Lubin Company claims it is paying $50 
to $75 for good material. The Imp Films Co., states it pays 
the best prices of any concern going, but we do not believe it. 
We believe the Edison Co., is the best pay in the business. 
They have paid and still pay from $50 to $100 for good scenarios 
which they can use. Of course they buy scenarios for less be- 
cause they cannot secure the better kind — the kind that are 
worth $100. 

We have been asked by scenario writers to explain just 
what assists a scenario editor in setting the price on a scenario. 
We know of several things that should assist him but do not. 
Most scenario editors have a scale of between $10 to $25 and 
they give any amount they care to, all depending on the amount 
of revision that is done by the editor. 


The above heading is used merely to attract your attention. 
We want you to read and digest every word of the matter given 
below. The advice is given by one of the manufacturers but 
it applies to all of the companies who are buying scenarios. 
What We Like 

Light comedies of modern American life. The stories must 


be original, full of novel and amusing situations, with an ap- 
peal to human interest; clean-cut in plot, bright and snappy in 
their humor. To win acceptance this class of story must be 
delightfully interesting. They are in greatest demand and 
command the best prices. 

High class American dramas, strong, yet plausible in story, 
filled with heart interest, with wholesome and inspiring motives. 
Social and domestic dramas of a refined class are the most ac- 

An occasional melodrama will be found acceptable. The 
action should be vigorous and powerful, without violating con- 
**~— ~— We Don > t Want 

"Far-fetched" farces, rough or vulgar comedies, dramas of 
an immoral or suggestive nature — blood thirsty melodramas. 
Costume plays, trick pictures, heavy tragedies, etc., will be 
found available only in rare instances. Beware of brutal or 
wilful murder, suicide, burglary, highway robbery, kidnapping 
or any crime showing the methods employed. Don't submit 
short stories or stage plays. 

Your Manuscript 
should be type-written — the scenario proper prefaced, with short 
synopsis, telling in brief, the plot of the story. The scenario 
should describe concisely and clearly the action of each scene. 
Be brief. 

Don't work haphazard. Analyze every action and motive 
of every character. When you are satisfied your story is suffi- 
ciently interesting, logical, and conforming to the above rules, 
we will be pleased to read it. 


Since preparing the "April Calendar," found elsewhere in 
this issue, we have received from Mr. Macdonald, the editor of 
scenarios for the Essanay Co., the following notice: 

"We thank you for submitting enclosed scenario for our 
consideration, but at present time we have a very large stock 
of same on hand, yet to be produced, and, as we receive about 
five hundred scenarios a week, we feel that we cannot bestow 
upon each one the careful thought that we would care to, and 
is due the author. 

"Therefore we will not solicit any more scenarios for sev- 
eral months, at which time we shall be glad to hear from you 
again." * ^ 



The National Film Distributing Co., located at 145 West 
45th St., New York City, states that they will pass on all 
scenarios intended for any of the following concerns. Knick- 
erbocker, Belmar, Carey, Wrytograph, Federal, Plantation, Rose, 
Mohawk, Oklahoma, California, Washington and Shamrock. 
We are unable to learn anything further regarding these com- 
panies only that they release their subjects through the Na- 
tional Film Distributing Co. 


The May issue of THE PHOTO PLAYWRIGHT will con- 
tain 32 pages. There will be an article on the copyrighted 
scenario; another on the foremost scenario writer in the United 
States; still another on nailing ideas that will sell. The last 
mentioned will be written by a scenario editor who rejects 
more than 500 scenarios every week. Every page will be worth 
the price of the magazine. THE PHOTO PLAYWRIGHT for 
May will be worth while. 


The Edison Company receives several hundred scenarios 
every week. Some are good but are prefaced by a synopsis of 
700 to 1,000 words. When the editor of scenarios chances upon 
a good idea which is prepared in such a manner, the following 
instructions are sent the author: 

"We herewith return your scenario, entitled , 

which we are unable to consider until prefaced by a synopsis, 
the story in miniature (not employing more than a typewritten 
page 250 words in length) setting forth clearly and concisely 
the essential points. 

"If you desire to resubmit the scenario in conformity with 
the above stated requirements, we s^all be glad to consider it." 



The fictionists are discovering that scenario writing pays. 
They see that better days are coming. In this respect, let it 
be known that Nellie Cravey Gillmore, a regular contributor 
to the Ten Story Book, is one of us. She is a scenario writer 
whose ideas for photoplays are as good as her stories. We say 
to the other writers: Come in, the water is fine. Of course 
we must add: If your ideas are good you'll make a howling 


The unscrupulous person exists everywhere. We have 
found that there are some crooked scenario writers. A person 
who will submit a scenario to two companies at the same time 
is surely a crook from the core out. We have received from 
a well known concern, the following letter: 

"I am her.ewith enclosing scenario of Mr. , as we 

find it unavailable. 

"This same subject was submitted by the author by mail, 
and rejected by us, last week. 

"If the author, as well as yourselves, is to market his 
material you are going to make no end of trouble for every- 
body concerned. A manufacturer is not likely to consider a 
script from your concern if he has an idea that the author is 
sending out the same material to other companies at the same 
time. By the time one company learns that another has bought 
the script direct he may have the copy bought from you under 

And we desire to take up the letter further. If a writer 
sends his script to an agency to be marketed for him and at 
the same time sends the same script to a producer, he is going 
to be up against it in case the script sells to the company se- 
lected by the agency, or vice versa. The proper action in such 
instances is to put the scenario writer's name on the blacklist, 
and advise him that additional scenarios are not wanted from 
him unless he can refrain from such duplication. 

We have asked the scenario editors of several of the pro- 




The Photo Playwright 

Your subscription will be of more 
value and encouragement to us than 
ten subscriptions a year from now. 

Everybody in the business should 
have it, for it is valuable for man 
and boy, old-timer and beginner. 

Its purpose is to assist the scenario writer and promote his 
welfare, being devoted to the best interests of picture playwrights. 
It gives such information as is desired find needed by sLudents of 
the photoplay. 

Make All Remittances Payable To 

The Photoplay Enterprise Association 


Single Copy 15 cents 

For the Year $1.00 

Send your subscription today and get every issue. 
Send it now, if possible. 

ducing companies as to what action they would take should 
they find circumstances like the above. Some said: "Forget 
that he ever lived," and a couple others said, "Cut off his head." 


The Lubin Manufacturing Company is making friends 
among the scenario writers, that is, among those whose work 
shows merit. The following "Special Notice" is being sent out 
from Lubinville by the scenario editor: 

"Although obliged to reject your scenario for the reason 
marked on our rejection slip, (herewith enclosed) we wish you 
to know that your work, in many ways, shows that you have 
talent for scenario writing. 

"We have accordingly made note of your name, and in 
the future will give special attention to any work you may 
submit us. 

"Awaiting, with interest, your next effort, we remain, 

"Yours very truly, 

The above is enclosed along with the regular rejection let- 
ter. It tends to take away the blues that usually accompany 
a rejected script, and will act as a bracer for more work. 

Scenario Advice 

(By Ella Randall Pearce, in The Motion Picture Story Magazine.) 

To make a good scenario A situation quite intense, 

Seems quite an easy task. Heroics for a star, 

You dress up a good plot, and, lo! A bit of wit, some common sense, 

A good price you may ask. A title — there you are. 

To make a good scenario, 
A real good plot is all you need, And earn a little pelf — 

A story not threadbare; Just find out where the good plots 

'I he consequences of a deed grow, 

Not dramatized elsewhere. Then go and help yourself! 



To scenario writers who desire the proper tools for their work, 
namely, paper and envelopes, we make the following offer: 


100 sheets paper, 8^x11 inches . . . 

100 envelopes, No. 11 

100 envelopes, No. 10 (enclosures) 

The above order will be doubled on receipt of money order 
for $2.00. 

The envelopes mentioned above are not the ordinary cheap 
white envelopes generally used, but tough Manila envelopes — just 
the thing for mailing scenarios. 



Conditions in the moving picture world are constantly chang- 
ing; the demands of the scenario editors are many and varied with 
these changes. To keep abreast of the times, all writers should 
be regular subscribers to one or more of the reputable photoplay 
publications. We quote you the following rates: 

Moving Picture World, $2.75 


The regular price of this publication is $3-00 a year. The 
Photoplay Enterprise Association recommends it as ehe best of 
its kind printed. 

Motion Picture Story Magazine, $1.40 

A publication of a different sort — it tells the stories of the best 
photoplays in story form — finely illustrated. The regular price is 
$1.50 a year. 

The Photoplay Enterprise Association 


APR 8 W2 

Have Your Manuscripts 
Typewritten Right 

"Cleanliness is next to godliness." 

That applies to people. 

Cleanliness will put you next to the check you want to get. 

That applies to that manuscript of yours when it goes before 
the editor — if WE typewrite it. 

Appearances count heavily, in such cases — as elsewhere. 

OUR WORK is uniformly clean and accurate. 

WE DELIVER promptly and when agreed. 

WE ARE RESPONSIBLE— you can trust us with valuable 
manuscripts with absolute confidence. 

OUR CHARGE is $1.00 for each scenario. 

If you are wanting the proper kind of work, send your script 
today. We have just added two additional stenographers to our 
staff, and will deliver your scripts almost instantaneously. 

The Photoplay Enterprise Association 




The Photoplay Enterprise Association wants the best dramas 
and comedy scenarios they can buy. To stimulate the interest of 
all writers we are offering special prizes for the best scenarios 
received at our office before May 1st. (We originally intended to 
close this contest on April 1st.) The prizes will be distributed as 

First Prize: $100.00 

Second Prize 60.00 

Third Prize 40.00 

The winning scenarios will be paid for just the same as any 
other scenarios, the prizes being extra and merely a bonus for 
merit. All other scenarios found available will be bought and paid 
for at the highest prices. Let's have the best you've got, and 
quickly. Address scenarios to 

Contest Editor 

The Photoplay Enterprise Association 



O those who have never sent in a sce- 
nario to us to be criticised we make 
this special offer: We will go over 
any scenario before May 1, 1912, for $1.00. The 
regular rate is $1.50. There are only two con- 
ditions. You must never have sent us a script 
before and the envelope must bear the April 
post mark. 

If the scenario meets our requirements we 
will undertake to market it for you for a com- 
mission of 20 per cent. If it does not come up 
to our expectation we will tell you what is 
wrong with it, how to revise it and give you a 
list of all the available markets so that you will 
be saved any more expense. 

Return stamps must be enclosed in case the 
story is not available. 

If you are in earnest about scenario writing 
and wish to see what an author's bureau can do 
for you, now is your chance. 

Address All Manuscripts To 

The Photoplay Enterprise Association 

Boonville, Indiana. 

Send Your Script Today 

How to Write and Market 
Moving Picture Plays 

Is undoubtedly the most far-reaching work on scenario 
writing now in print. 


"We have perused carefully and with great interest your 
book, 'How to Write and Market Moving Picture Plays,' and 
we can only endorse all that you state concerning the writing 
of moving picture plays. 

"Let us hope that all scenario writers will follow your 
instructions to the great pleasure and comfort of all moving 
picture manufacturers now compelled to read an ever increas- 
ing number of poor productions in the hope of finding a gem 
amongst them." 


"Before purchasing your book I made several attempts to write and 
sell picture plays — always failed. Up to date I have written eleven and 
sold eight, bringing me $265." — E. K. J., Indianapolis, Ind. 

"My first scenario has been purchased for $50." — A. W. B., Colorado 
Springs, Colo. 

"Yesterday's mail brought me two checks, one for $25, another for 
$20, being payment for two moving picture scenarios that were written 
after work hours." — C. H. R., Red Oak, Iowa. 

How to Write and Market Moving Picture Plays 


It teaches the rudiments of writing photoplay plots — ones that con- 
tain heart-throbs and hearty laughs. It teaches you how to evolve worth- 
while plots; it tells how to construct the salable scenario; what the pro- 
ducer wants, and why; how to market the manuscript. It is a complete 
mail course in picture play-writing prepared in the form of a book con- 


PHOTOPLAY KNOWLEDGE — Grammar and Spelling; Photoplay 
Terms; Photoplay Distinctions; Classification of Photoplays; Photoplay 
Ideas; What to Avoid; Camera and Studio Conditions; Photoplay Limita- 
tions; Economical Considerations; Photoplay Don'ts. 

TECHNIQUES OF THE PHOTOPLAY— Photoplay Construction; The 
Plot; Atmosphere and Effects; The Synopsis; A Completed Scenario; The 
Type Script; What Manufacturers Demand; Manufacturers' Names and 
Addresses; Submitting the Manuscripts Photoplay Rules. 

Price $1.50 Mailed Anywhere in the United States 

mprpi V r\n TWIQ Now, are you going to let $1.50 stand between 
"icncux UKJ ,n, ° you and this chance to get your start in this 
profession? Stop right now — send for this book — it will sell your scenarios. 

Book Department 

The Photoplay Enterprise Association 


JUL 10 1912 / 



Vol. 1 MAY, 1912 No. 2 

"When there is no more to be leagh- t^V 
ed about playscript writing there wijl^be ^ 
no more playscripts. ,, y \^\£ , J? / 



Building a Playscript 


The Usual Thing 

By The Editor 

Devoted to the Interests of the 

Scenario Writer 
I 1 



The Photo Playwright 

Your subscription will be of more 
value and encouragement to us than 
ten subscriptions a year from now. 

Everybody in the business should 
have it, for it is valuable for man 
and boy, old-timer and beginner. 

Its purpose is to assist the scenario writer and promote his 
welfare, being devoted to the best interests of picture playwrights. 
It gives such information as is desired and needed by students of 
the photoplay. 

Make All Remittances Payable To 

The Photoplay Enterprise Association 


Single Copy 15 cents 

For the Year $1.00 

Send your subscription today and get every issue. 
Send it now, if possible. 



Vol. 1 

MAY, 1912 

No. 2 

Building a Playscript 3 

W. Hanson Durham 

The Usual Thing 7 

Studio Properties 9 

Those Stolen Ideas 10 

We Have With Us Tonight 15 

Some Recent Photoplays 17 

Justice For Adler 21 

Photo Play wrights Who Get By 22 

Conversation and Gossip 23 

The Photoplay Mart 26 


Copyright 1912 by 
The Photoplay Enterprise 
Association ^ 

it is 




The Photo Playwright 

Devoted to the Interests of the Scenario Writer. 





To make this publication a success, we need your aid. 
If you hope to attain any degree of success as a photo play- 
wright, you need the guidance and aid which THE PHOTO 
PLAYWRIGHT will provide from month to month. Little 
as it is, this magazine cannot be printed and circulated for 
nothing. Printer's ink is an expensive substance. 

Many of you who read this have received two free copies 
— the April issue, also this issue... This is the last FREE 
copy you will receive. If you want this publication to con- 
tinue as a monthly visitor, if you want to "get on" as a 
successful writer of scenarios, send your subscription today. 

The price is reasonable. Many of the so-called courses 
provided by schools and institutes costing enormous amounts 
do not provide the aid and assistance furnished by one 
issue of this magazine — which costs but ONE DOLLAR for 
twelve months — twelve issues. 

We intend to make the PHOTO PLAYWRIGHT just as 
helpful as possible. It will always give such full informa- 
tion as is desired and needed by students of the photoplay. 
We ask you to co-operate — make your next move now by 
sending us your subscription. 

Boonville, Indiana 



The author of this article is one of the tribe of photo play- 
wrights who has withstood the grinding process. Some forty or 
more successful photoplays owe their parentage to his Reming- 
ton. Perhaps the best known are "The Minute Man," (Edison) ; 
"A Dead Man's Honor," (Vitagraph) ; "Wages of War," (Vita- 
graph), and "The Warrant for Red Rube," (Melies). 

The old saying, "The Play is the thing," has recently taken a 
double meaning to itself, which in a broader sense, now reads, 
"The photoplay is the thing." 

While there are some twenty-five or thirty producing com- 
panies of photoplays, no one knows the number of writers who 
are particularly responsible as authors of these productions — 
their name is legion, while as yet their fame is few. To be sure 
a larger number of these photoplays come from the pens of 
the scenario writers of the staff producing them, but this leaves 
a great many still to be written by the free lance. When an 
outside writer sends in a playscript which is as good or perhaps 
a little better than those their own staff are writing, it is gener- 
ally taken ,this being for one thing, to prevent too much of the 
sameness which is apt to result if the companies produced only 
that which was written by their own writers, and furthermore, 
an acceptable playscript from an outsider gives the producer 
still one more good one. 

Speaking of the guilty authors. I have been requested to 
give some of my experience as one of them. There is not much 
that I can say — so much has already been said, but if any writer 
can find a helping hand in what I do say, I am sure they are 
welcome to it. Perhaps some of my success is due to the fact 
that previous to my first playscript, I was writing and selling 
my short stories to such companies as the Frank A. Munsey 
Company, "The Black Cat," "The Blue Book" Magazine and 
others. I mention this because it has been said that few short 
story writers have succeeded in writing playscripts. I have 
found my experience in the short story field a great help — and 
why not others as well? 

How do I do it? With me, the first thing is the plot. Get 
even the germ of a plot and then go at it. There is a great deal 
in knowing when you have got a plot which is really original and 
worth while. Really, the plot is the thing. 

I always use a slate to start with. I simply write the synop- 
sis of the story on the slate — as briefly as possible — consistently. 
Then I study the synopsis on the slate and make it as perfect as 
possible, then from that I write my first three or four scenes on 
the slate — studying and strengthening each scene carefully. 
After I have got the playscript started on the slate to my satis- 
faction, I copy what I have written and continue on paper. 
When I have the first draft of the playscript completed, I again 
go over it critically — carefully making such corrections as I 
think best, and when this is done to my satisfaction, I copy, 
making a carbon copy — on the typewriter — and send the original 
to the company which I think it is best suited for. It is well to 
bear in mind when writing a playscript that there are still cer- 
tain limitations which can be learned from studying the better 
class of photoplays. Timeliness is another thing to consider. 
And above all — the disposition to work with a determination not 
to let disappointments and rejections discourage you. There are 
none — even among the most successful photo playwrights but 
who have some of their scripts come back. Some of my play- 
scripts which I considered far superior to some which have 
been accepted, I have thus far been unable to sell, and there is 
a cause for it. If you send to a company which is in the market 
for material — something which they want, and it is original, 
even if there are some slight faults in the construction of it — 
if the plot is there, they will accept it and pay you what they 
consider it worth to them as it is presented. Of course you can 
expect and probably will be paid a better price for your work 
if, in addition to an original plot, you have presented it in 
such a form which enables the producers to get the most out of 
it without further work on their part. By this, I mean that 
often acceptable plots are presented in such a shape that they 
require considerable work to put in proper form. In this case, 
the author is paid only for the idea or plot — which leaves the 
producing company to perfect it to their own satisfaction. If 
such is the case one cannot expect to receive as much as they 
would had the plot been presented in a finished form. In a 
case like this — you can know that it is the PLOT or IDEA 
which they are PAYING for — and that the way you have pre- 
sented in your playscript is not satisfactory — they will rewrite 
it to suit themselves and pay you accordingly — from $10 to $15, 


— whereas, had the plot been presented in a practical and per- 
fected form — you might have received from $25 to $100 for it. 
I find, however, that from $25 to $50 is the usual pay for a 
satisfactory playscript, but it is going to be better pay before 
long, for certainly, the demand for good material is increasing 
and the perfect plot — original ones — are becoming more diffi- 
cult to dig up. A good, original plot is like a nugget — it is 
GOLD to the writer if presented in acceptable form. 

Another hint which may help is this. When you have a 
perfect plot, which you are sure is original, study it and make 
it as consistent as possible and then, beginning with the first 
scene — picture clearly to yourself, in fact, see each scene in 
your imagination as it should appear on the screen, picturing 
each move, act and motion, each and every character and even 
to the required settings, and in this way you will not only see 
your own work before it is produced, but you will see and be 
able to satisfactorily adjust that which is wrong. Be most 
critical with your own work — forget that it is yours — work and 
study to get it into the best shape possible and then send it to 
the company which are producing such photoplays and then 
wait until you hear from them. It may be within a week and 
it may be several weeks. If the script comes back — keep up 
your courage and send it out again and keep at it until it is 
sold, and if there is any real merit in it, I can assure you that 
some of the companies will find it. If at length, it is not sold, 
you can know that there is some sufficient reason for it. The 
editors are even more ready to buy your work — if it is what 
they want — than you are to sell it. Remember that. 

Careful and critical study of the photoplays on the screen 
is sufficient to give you ideas and suggestions for others, being 
careful not to duplicate in any way. Study the way each scene 
and character is shown — the part they play in the plot — and 
then if you have an idea, a plot or even the germ of a plot — 
go to work and work it out in playscript form and submit it, 
but before you begin lay in a generous determination to work 
— work without being discouraged by disappointments, per- 
sistent patience — and if you have the ability to write a selling 
playscript you will succeed, — perhaps not with the first few, but 
by grim grit and determination, providing you can produce 
something worth while, and the only way is to go to work and 
do your best, and then if, after a fair trial at it — you are satis- 
fied that you cannot write a selling playscript — try again — be- 
fore you give up, and keep on trying until you do sell one or 
more. If you offer what is wanted — it will sell. There is no 
doubt about that. 

Make your synopsis tell the story of the entire plot briefly 
and clearly. The editor gathers from the synopsis the sense and 
strength of the idea without wading through the entire script. 
He can tell from the first few lines of the synopsis if there is 
anything worth while in the playscript. If there is, you will 
soon hear from him. If there is nothing in it which is suited 
to their needs, either present or immediate future, you will 
probably get it back. If you do, remember that some other 
company might be looking and longing for just such a play- 
script as yours — and send it to them. If it is any good it will 
sell sooner or later. If, after a fair trial — it does not sell any- 
where, you can be satisfied that it is no good — for some suffi- 
cient cause, else some of the editors to whom it was sent would 
have discovered it. It is most likely that the plot is old or 
some other sufficient cause is the reason it was rejected. 

Do not think that your playscripts are not read. That is 
where you wrong the editors. Perhaps the entire outline is not 
read, but I can assure you that the synopsis has been read — for, 
from the SYNOPSIS the editor can tell if it will pay to read 
the whole script. He can tell from the synopsis if he wants the 
story or not. So remember this, always — make your synopsis 
as strong, as simple and clear and convincing as possible — it 
means much to the editor and perhaps more to you. The syn- 
opsis advertises the playscript — therefore make it speak strong- 
ly and to the point. That's one of the secrets. And remember 
this, — make the synopsis not only strong, clear and convincing 
— but as short as you can and tell the story briefly. Get the 
synopsis in as few words as possible and tell the outlines of 
the story. Condense it into not over three hundred words — 
even less if you can consistently — and don't forget your cast — 
on a separate sheet. This helps to sell a script, too. Now — 
after you have written and sent out your first playscript — while 
waiting to hear from it — write another and send it out and 
then WAIT. 

* * * 

Here's to those who talk about us unkindly. May they 
always find subjects half as good. — Catharine Cavanaugh. 



Pinero, the dramatist, enunciated the singular doctrine that 
the chief duty of a critic was to praise that which he was 
criticising, and to continue praising it. Nobody agreed with 
Pinero, yet today we find a motion picture producer apologiz- 
ing for "the usual thing" wth a mouthful of praise. Here are 
his words: "A vital story of the redemption of a man gone 
wrong. The theme is as old as time, but the telling is fresh 
and enthralling." 

Such statements which originate in the publicity quarters 
of the manufacturer's plant are passed down the line to the 
exhibitor, who uses them on his advertising matter. Here the 
scenario writer finds them, attends the show while he is imbued 
with the laudatory words of the press agent, decides he can do 
equally as well and then proceeds to attempt it. The result — 
ordinary and conventional plots, although the writer believes 
he has accomplished a wonderful thing. The script fails with 
the better class of producers but the writer does not know why. 
He does not know that "the usual thing" has been given too 
much puff. He does not know that that which received so much 
praise was just an ordinary film, and that his plot is just an 
ordinary plot. 

Speaking of "the usual thing," Louis Reeves Harrison, one 
of the foremost scenario writers of today, has said: 

"Mother is still unable to pay the rent in a large number of 
recent heart-rending photo-sobs, and the promiscuous carrying 
off of little girls by the Indians is assuming the proportions of 
a national calamity, though a few thousands of them grow up 
with the tribes to fall-in-love-with and be-rescued by hatchet- 
faced cowboys with college-cut hair sapping their brows. The 
gun belonging to the fellow who didn't do it is still found near 
the corpse in lurid bloody-murder dramas, and cowboys led by 
the black-sombreroed sheriff with a tin star are, as usual, just 
about to hang the innocent hero when the cowgirl of osten- 
tatious tootsies dashes to the rescue — suspense — with proof 
positive that murderers have an atom of common sense, to say 
nothing of careful training in their perilous vocation, are not 
in the habit of laying their weapons by the respective sides of 

their victims to insure their identification and subsequent cap- 
ture — a fact which invariably escapes the attention of hasty 
hangmen all belted round with shooters, cartridges and lassos. 

Scenario writers as well as picture producers seen, to be- 
lieve this sort of stuff is going to "get by" forever. The writers 
dish it up because they see it, and so "the usual thing" just 
keeps on making the rounds. 

A story that is worth telling in pictures should be a new 
story. It should be void of all that is low, vile and injurious. 
Scenario writers will realize, some day, that children, millions 
of them, are regular patrons of the picture theater and will 
build their scenarios accordingly. The manufacturers are 
learning more about the children every day. They are learning 
that they cannot force "the usual thing" down the throats of 
the public. They are looking out, now, for scenarios that are 
minus "the usual thing." 

One-half of all the photoplays produced are built around 
the following few lines of verse: 

"He's gone; oh, I'll believe him every word! 

I was so young, I loved him so, I had 
No mother; God forgot me, and I fell. 

There may be pardon yet; all's doubt bevond, 
Surely the bitterness of death is past." 

It's the usual thing. Every scenario writer has made use of 
the idea embraced in the above lines, and the manufacturers, 
now and then, produce one of them. They advertise it far and 
wide. Then every scenario writer tries again with "the usual 
thing" as his idea. And so it goes the rounds. 

This article is intended as a plea for the better kind of 
plots — ones that are void of "the usual thing." Louis Reeves 
Harrison voices himself as follows as to the grand picture 
plays that are coming: 

"The moment that producers realize that both playwright 
and composer must be given recognition and the regular per- 
centage of box-office receipts accorded both, as in stage repre- 
sentations, the original dramas, some of the finest the world 
has ever seen, will be forthcoming, and moving pictures will 
move up to a very high rank of artistic and profitable per- 

Let us all hope Mr .Harrison is right. We will not be the 
ones to write these grand plays.They are over our heads, but 
that is no reason why we shouldn't eliminate "the usual thing" 
and think up the new ideas, those involving the problems of 
human nature. Let us try to tell them in a new way. Any- 
way, here's hoping. 



One of our subscribers has suggested we prepare a list 
stating the various "props" used -by the manufacturers ,that 
subscriber claiming that such a list would better enable him 
to know just where to submit his scenarios. A list of the 
'props" used by the twenty-five manufacturers would reach 
from the top of the Singer building to the ground — that is, if 
everything were listed. Practically anything and everything is 
to be found in the studio, and if it isn't there, it can be secured. 
Scenic artists are employed whose sole duty .is to prepare the 
"props." If your story is worth producing at all, the "props" 
will be secured. 

Of course there are some concerns which have the unusual 
"props," as is the case with the Selig company at Chicago, 
which maintains a private menagerie and thus produces more 
animal pictures than all the rest of the American producers 
combined. The Vitagraph company has a large tank-lake in 
their studio and is enabled to make sea-battle-scenes at any 
time without going near the rushing waves. Then this com- 
pany has "Jean," the wonderful dog, better known as "the 
Vitagraph dog." They don't kick him "around" at the "Vita" 
plant and are glad to receive real scenarios wherein "Jean" 
can be put to service. The Bison "101" company at Los 
Angeles has the entire "101" wild west company at its disposal. 
They also own "Snowball," a white horse that can do almost 
anything. Only two reel scenarios are purchased by the Bison 
company. (Scenarios having between 40 and 50 scenes.) 

Although child actors and actresses are not "props," we will 
mention them here. The Vitagraph company has several 
children, among them Kenneth Casey, Adele de Garde, and 
Helen Costello. Then there is "The Solax Kid," with the Solax 
company. The Essanay company has a child actress and also 
the Biograph company. (The last two companies are not buy- 
ing scripts, however.) As to babies, all of the companies have 
babies and scenario writers need have no fear their scripts will 
be rejected just because they arrange a scene calling for a 
mother to be shown with her baby in her arms. Don't, how- 
ever, try to have the baby do some stunt. 

As to costume photoplays ,we advise all writers to "fight 
shy" of them. When costume plays are produced by any of 
the manufacturers the scenarios are arranged in the editorial 
sanctum of the producer. 



Charges seems to be flying through the air that the editors 
of scenarios for the producers are stealing the ideas for photo- 
plays from the rejected scripts. Not a day goes by but what 
we receive a letter from some writer saying "so-and-so" swiped 
my idea. Of course they always say that certain changes are 
made, but they claim they originated the plot and submitted it 
to the very company which is bringing out the play in question. 

We have been advising these writers to be sure before 
making charges against these companies and have been citing 
an incident that goes to show how a scenario writer can be 
mistaken about this stealing business. 

Several months ago a lady in Illinois sent us a scenario 
entitled "A WAR-TIME MOTHER." It dealt with the letter 
sent by President Lincoln to Mrs. Bixley relative to the death 
of her six sons while fighting for the Union. 

Simultaneously with the receipt of this scripj we learned 
that the Vitagraph company had under production a photoplay 
to be called "THE SEVENTH SON." An investigation showed 
that it was based on the incidents of the Bixley letter. 

The only difference between the two plots was that the 
Illinois lady had followed to the letter, the historical facts, 
while the plot being produced by the Vitagraph company was 
changed sufficiently to admit the character of President Lincoln 
in granting clemency to a seventh son, who is a deserter from 
the Union army. 

We believe all of the charges of plot-stealing are based on 
grounds such as the above. We know it to be a fact that the 
Vitagraph company originated the plot for "THE SEVENTH 
SON" in their studio since the Illinois lady has stated she sent 
us the scenario directly after its completion. 

But to cite another case. Several years ago the Essanay 
company brought out in moving pictures, "THE LIFE OF THE 
YOUNGER BROTHERS." Some three or four months before 
the pictures were released the writer submitted to them a 
scenario calling for a two reel production of the famous North- 
field, Minn., bank robbery. Naturally when the pictures came 
out with only a changed title I felt that my plot had been stolen. 
I advised the Essanay company of the fact ,too, and in reply I 


received a very courteous letter stating that their producer had 
been actively engaged in making the pictures at the time my 
scenario was received in their offices. 

Of course I did not believe it. A few weeks later I was in 
Chicago and decided to learn the facts regarding the matter. 
It took me three days to find the proper persons but I found 
duced by the Essanay company, was half completed in negative 
pictures before I even conceived the idea for picture production. 

In conclusion the writer offers the advice of Epes Winthrop 
Sargent to all those who feel their plots have been stolen. 
It reads: 

"If you think your scenario ideas are being stolen don't 
write scenarios. If you know they are stolen write the manu- 
facturer, but because you and thirty others have all written 
stories on the same theme and one of them is good enough to 
gain acceptance , don't get the idea that you are the only person 
who ever thought of that idea and whine about the way your 
ideas are stolen. 

"It's a simple proposition. 

"If the editors persist in using the rotten ideas of someone 
else in preference to your own fine plots, don't waste your 
postage on them. 

"If they persist in stealing your ideas don't give them any 
to steal." 

* * 


E. Haydon Bozel, a literary aspirant of Fredericksburg, Va., 
is the author of several copyrighted scenarios. Among the list 
is "Cherubim Chimes," which the author has submitted to var- 
ious companies, always with a time limit. We do not remember 
the exact wording of the author's time limit statement other 
than that it runs something like this: "Failure to return within 
ten days will signify the acceptance and purchase of this script." 
Besides this statement, the author tacks on several other ex- 
traneous statements relative to his copyright, stating that plot 
thieyes will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. 

$Lr. Bozel lays down the law to those he asks to buy his 


wares. As to the tactics of this Mr. Bozel, let the scenario 
editor of the Kalem company speak: 

"Under date of February 13th, 1912, we received from E. 
Haydon Bozel, Fredericksburg, Va., a manuscript entitled 
'Cherubim Chimes.' His envelope bore a two-cent postage due 
stamp and no postage was enclosed for return of the manu- 

"As the subject was found unavailable for our purposes, we 
notified Mr. Bozel on the same date — February 13th, 1912 — and 
asked that he forward the necessary postage if he wished the 
manuscript returned. This manuscript was properly filed and 
the customary notation made in our records. 

"Today, March 22nd, we are in receipt of a communication 
from a New York City attorney, stating Mr. Bozel has placed 
with him for collection an account^ of $20 against the Kalem 
Company 'for furnishing us with a moving picture story.' 

"We have explained the situation to the attorney, with the 
recommendation that he instruct Mr. Bozel to send us the post- 
age for a return of his manuscript." 

If you happen to be a scenario writer and feel like Mr. Bozel, 
quit writing scenarios. You will do more harm than good if 
you intend to force the manufacturers to accept your good ideas 
— of course they are better than the ones you see at your 
theater — you arranged them. 

Mr. Bozel isn't a second Jack London or a Jeffry Farnol, 
even though he submits his material in London and Farnol 
style. However, we cannot believe Jack London would make 
such an ass of himself if his plot was really stolen. 

The picture manufacturers are twice as considerate as the 
publishers of the monthly magazines. Some of the scenario 
editors acknowledge the receipt of a scenario, a practice that 
should be abolished. If a script has a chance of passing, but is 
prefaced by a long synopsis, the editor graciously requests the 
author to re-write the synopsis, and confine it to 250 words. 
It is a request, remember. If you have ever done newspaper 
work and queried the office on a story, advising them that it is 
worth 1,000 words and received an order for 250, you will know 
how to take such a request. It is not an insinuation that you 
don't know how to write scenarios — merely a formal notice 
that there is a certain ceremony proper to occasions which one 
will do well to observe. 

If you send out a manuscript to "The Cosmopolitan" Maga- 
zine, which is the best pay known (providing you can get 


through the bars) you get your script back (if it is not avail- 
able) within six weeks after you sent it out, with a short, but 
kind note of rejection. They don't even explain why they 
have rejected the manuscript as do the scenario editors who 
inform the author just why his scenario has failed to prove 
acceptable. So we say; if you are a kicker, get out of the 
game. It don't pay to ruffle the feathers of a scenario editor 
if you expect to sell your scripts. 

* * * 


There appears to be, among scenario writers, a want for 
new words which can be used in connection with the photoplay 
and only the photoplay. In ''The Dramatic Mirror," issue of 
April 10, we find the following: 

Charles Gaskill, of the Vitagraph photoplay writing staff, 
offers another suggestion in the way of perfecting or correcting 
the terminology of the new art. He wants to know why the 
inserted words in a motion picture film record should be called 
a sub-title or a caption or a leader. He proposes some such 
term as interscript, which might be contracted to inscript, mean- 
ing words written in, more properly an interscription, and which 
would cover all cases of inserted speeches, explanations or cap- 
tions. The point appears to be well taken. Inserts are seldom 
captions or subtitles, properly speaking, and it is difficult to 
see how they can ever justly be called "leaders." The "leader" 
of a motion picture film was originally a blank strip of film at 
either end, where the wear and tear of winding and rewinding 
was greatest, and which could be replaced when worn out, thus 
preserving the photo printed part. It would seem, therefore, 
that "leader" might well be discarded at the outset as wholly 
inappropriate, and as not having even the sanction of trade 
usage except by corruption from its original meaning. Inscript, 
used as a noun, would seem to this writer to be an excellent 
coined term for the purpose, although it would be interesting 
and more valuable to have others express opinions on the 

Now is the time while the art is in its making that its ter- 
minology should be studied and established, and the instance 
noted above, together with the false term "scenario," discussed 
last week, are not the only ones inviting attention. Thanks to 
the Essanay Company and its enterprise some time ago, in 
offering a prize for the best word to describe the motion pic- 


ture play, we have the word photoplay, which is being gener- 
ally adopted by the press and public. From this word we may 
properly derive the word photoplaywright or photoplaywriter 
in place of scenario writer. Another term that might well be 
banished as referring specifically to the motion picture is the 
word film, which is too general in its meaning for adequately 
designating even the tape form of the material on which the 
successive photographs are printed, and which is entirely out 
of place when applied to the pictures as seen on the screen. 

Our readers will note the writer suggests "photoplaywright," 
as a suitable word for what is now known as "scenario writer." 
He makes it one word. "Playwright," in our minds, is a single 
word and "photo" is another. By its use with "playwright" 
we do not mean a portrait play wright, but make use of the word 
"photo" only to show the relationship to the word "photogra- 
phy." and not "photos" as some peple believe. We do not like 
to "brag," but we believe we are the first to use the words 
"photo playwright," to signify a writer of scripts for moving 
picture plays. 

* * * 


"Scenario editors cannot be too careful in selecting words 
for the sub-titles. There are only one or two words in the 
English language that have synonyms. I can recall only two 
words that have precisely the same meaning — begin and com- 
mence. The careful speaker or writer uses the utmost care in 
selecting just the right word to express the meaning desired. 
Examine and study any two words that seem to mean about the 
same thing, and you will find that they have different shades of 
meaning. For example, a person may be proud without being 
vain; egotistical wthout being conceited; brave without being 
courageous. Fox once paid William Pitt a high compliment 
when he said. 'I never hesitate for a word; Pitt never hesitates 
for the word!'" — From the "Musings of the Photoplay Phil- 
osopher" in the Motion Picture Story Magazine. 

Every man's heart is a living drama; every death is a drop 
scene; every book only a faint footlight to throw a little flicker 
on the stage. — Donald G. Mitchell. 





"The scenario editor," says Helen Meritt in an article for 
"The Moving Picture World," "seems to treat the novice with 
more charity and leniency than does the magazine editor. His 
manner of refusal is not so curt. He does not consider it be- 
neath his dignity to point out where a writer has failed. If he 
reads a scenario which has promise he has actually been known 
to inform the writer of the fact and sometimes even to go as 
far as to show him what particular feature is lacking." 

Such an one is Richard V .Spencer, the editor of scenarios 
at the "Bison" Pacific Coast Studio, located at Los Angeles. 
Mr. Spencer deserves the biggest kind of credit for his treat- 
ment to both professional and amateur scenario writers, as the 
following statement from the "Bison" sanctum will prove. 

"This company does not issue instructions on how to write 
a scenario. Parties wishing to learn the technique of scenario 
writing are requested to buy text books on the subject. Text 
books are issued by at least three firms. 

"Tell your story clearly. Be brief and concise in scene 
business. Do not write dialog. Number scenes consecutively. 
Watch the pictures on the screen and analyze them. Try to be 
original in your choice of themes and business, but still be 
practical. Tell the story as it comes to you whether it takes 
15 scenes or 50. Think over your story carefully and try to 
improve it before finally typewriting it. Attach synopsis to all 
stories. Enclose stamped addressed return envelope. Have 
name and address on first and last page of manuscript. Type- 
write all manuscript. Avoid the showing of crime, immorality, 
gruesomeness and other disagreeable themes. 


"See 'Bison' productions after Feb. 23rd for better idea of 
what this company requires. We offer very prompt considera- 
tion for first reading stories, and pay the highest prices in the 
market upon acceptance. We are in the market for the fol- 
lowing type of stories ONLY: Indian-Military, Pioneer-Indian, 
and their various combinations. Send us your stories for a 
first reading. 

"Stories should be built on strong themes with original bits 
of business, have continuity, and a strong heart or love inter- 
est interwoven in the plot. We thank you for your past con- 
tributions and trust you will continue to favor us with a FIRST 
READING of your stories." 

The publishers of "The Photo Playwright" have received a 
very interesting letter from Mr. Spencer, which reads as fol- 

"Am today in receipt of a sample copy of your magazine, 
'The Photo Playwright,' for scenario writers and others inter- 
ested in the trade. I have read the magazine through from 
cover to cover, and in it find much to instruct and interest the 
professional, as well as the amateur writers — in fact, the publi- 
cation fills a long felt want and should help everyone con- 
cerned in the business of making and marketing films. Since 
the above is beginning to read like a patent medicine testi- 
monial, I will take a new tack. 

"In the course of my work I receive many written and 
verbal requests for information relative to the construction and 
marketing of scenarios, and being a very busy man, I do not 
have the time to go into details on how a scenario should be 
constructed, although when I come across a writer who shows 
special talent for moving picture work, I go out of my way to 
aid them. I find that there is a big demand for information 
along this line, and it is a branch of the business not thoroughly 
covered by the trade journals now in the field, although their 
scenario and inquiry departments have been a big help. Here- 
after, I will recommend information seekers to subscribe to 
your magazine. Mail or express me a dozen sample copies for 
distribution here that I may give them out to local scenario 

All of this causes us to reflect — are all scenario editors 
"calloused cusses"? Quite the contrary — most of them are 
angels in the devil's garb. Yet — well, an editor is an editor, 
and some are different from others. 


The photoplay has come into its own. It has won its place 
in the heart of the people, and as Hassan Ali, the Arab Sheik in 
Kalems' "The Fighting Dervishes of the Desert," must say, 
"Allah be praised!" 

As photo playwrights we have but one God — the photoplay, 
and the public is the prophet. To express ourselves in just the 
right way we must pilfer and adapt from one of our contem- 
poraries. It reads: 

"Today the dramatic art is a serious matter with the public. 
Business men who formerly opened their morning paper at the 
stock quotations or European cables, now eagerly seek" for 
what is new in the way of motion pictures. "And as to their 
wives, before the dear things thrust their dainty feet into their 
slippers, and put their warm bodies into breakfast negligees, 
even before they look for the latest underwear sale, they eagerly 
seek for the notice of" tonight's pictures. 

This is about as far as we can go with praise. We pose as a 
critic. We "come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.' 

From all sides one can hear words of praise poured out in 
support of such productions as "The Seventh Son," (Vitagraph), 
and, "How Washington Crossed the Delaware," (Edison). Both 
are historical photoplays, having an incident of history for their 
foundation. Consider a synopsis of "The Seventh Son," which 

At the outbreak of the Civil War in the United 
States, the six sons of Widow Beecham enlist. The 
seventh son is very anxious to join the army and fight 
for his country, but his brothers insist upon his remain- 
ing home with his mother. At the "Battle of Bull 
Run" three of the brothers are killed. The seventh 


son, fired with patriotism, goes to the front, leaving his 
old mother alone. He distinguishes himself for brav- 
ery, saving his colonel's life during the "Battle of the 
Wilderness" at which three more of the widow's sons 
are killed. The youngest boy, his nerves shattered, 
flees in terror. He is brought up on charge of deser- 
tion and sentenced to death. Secretary of War Stan- 
ton receives an appeal from the "boy's mother, but 
refuses to recommend his pardon. 

The widowed mother calls on the President person- 
ally. She is granted an interview. Lincoln listens 
with the tender sympathy for which he was noted. The 
bereaved mother unbosoms her overburdened soul and 
tells him of the six graves filled with the bodies of her 
sons, who fought and died for their country. With 
tears, she pleads for her last and only boy, the hope 
and love of her old age. The old lady anxiously awaits 
his decision and is about to leave his presence when 
the president calls her back and hands her her boy's 
pardon, saying: "You have given six sons for your 
country and I am going to give you the seventh." 

This plot was evolved by Hal Reid, formerly of the Vita- 
graph company, but now with the Reliance. We wonder which 
you would term it; a story plot or an action plot? Is it a much 
detailed and complicated story requiring considerable side-play 
or does the action interest without the story? 

Frankly, we call it an action plot, although it becomes slow 
and turns to story in the end. Note this: "The bereaved 
mother unbosoms her over-burdened soul and tells him of the 
six graves filled with the bodies of her sons, who fought and 
died for their country." This is story. In the picture this re- 
quires inscripts and captions with slow acting to make it plain 
to the audience. 

However, the first part of the synopsis is action from the 
start until the point where Secretary of War Stanton refuses 
to grant a pardon to young Beecham. 

Producers state they do not care to produce "story" plots, 
although they are doing it every day. Of course there is no 
censure made of this plot but this criticism is made to show 
the difference between "story" and "action" plots. 

Now to consider the plot of "How Washington Crossed the 
Delaware," a synopsis of which is as follows: 


Bess, the daughter of a Tory squire, is herself in 
sympathy with the Continentals. Her sweetheart, Jack, 
is a young officer serving in George Washington's 
army now on the Pennsylvania side of the Delaware. 
Her father's home is near Trenton. Jack gets a note 
from her to the effect that the next night her father is 
to be entertained by the Hessian officer, and that 
these foreigners are not watching their defences very 
carefully. Jack shows the note to Washington and 
volunteers to cross the river to reconnoiter. He does 
so and goes to the squire's home. Here Bess is alone 
except for one officer who evidently found the charm- 
ing little rebel more attractive than the Christmas 
night feast. She hears an owl hoot and recognizes 
Jack's signal. Fearing a conflict between the two men 
she leaves the officer in one room while she goes to 
meet Jack and, as she hopes to send him on his way 
without any knowledge of the other man. But Fate 
wills otherwise. There is a desperate sword fight be- 
tween them in which Jack is victorious and, leaving his 
opponent stunned, he hastens to the river bank where 
he gives Washington the signal to cross with the Amer- 
ican army. This he does, finding the Hessians unpre- 
pared and, after a short conflict, obtaining the surren- 
der of their whole force, including their leader, Colonel 
Rahl. Bess pleads for the freedom of her father and 
Washington graciously accedes. It is quite evident 
that the old squire will no longer object to the union 
of his daughter and the gallant young Continental 

Like "The Seventh Son," this idea was derived by Horace 
G. Plimpton at the Edison studio, the scenario being arranged 
under the supervision of Mr. Plimpton. Taking the incident of 
Washington trip across the frozen Delaware River, an inter- 
esting love plot has been evolved. It is, seemingly, all story 
and all action. The demands of the story are such that there 
are no slow situations. There are no sideplays. 

Of the two plots, "Washington Crossing the Delaware," 
sems to be, to us, the better. Of course it has an advantage 
over "The Seventh Son" in that it portrays "heart-to-heart 
love," (that of lovers) while the latter portrays mother love. 
Mother love is beautiful and hard to portray in acting, but 
"heart-to-heart love" is far more entertaining. 


"The Price of a Silver Fox," a recent Lubin production, is 
the most sickening and unpleasant production made for many 
days. How it ever passed the National Censorship Board is 
more than we can tell. Not only is it sickening but it is a very 
poor plot. We do not know who arranged the scenario, but 
do know that it never should have been produced. 

A capricious but seemingly nice girl tells her friend 
she will marry him if he brings her a silver fox skin. 
In the north woods he gets the skin. An Indian steals 
it. The young man goes in search of the thief and 
falls by the wayside. Rescued by trappers he is taken 
to their camp where an Indian girl nurses him back to 
life. Horribly disfigured, one eye being out and an ear 
frozen off, mouth twisted and nose gone, he finds the 
thief, gets the silver fox skin and returns to claim the 

Not only is it gruesome, but very poor in construction. By 
the way, it was poorly staged. 

If you intend to write successful photoplays, write most of 
them like "Washington Crossing the Delaware," some few like 
"The Seventh Son," but don't ever write, a plot that is as weak 
and horrible as "The Price of a Silver Fox." 

* £ « 


The first issue of "The Photo Playwright" was printed and 
mailed to our subscribers on April 4th and 5th. It had been 
advertised for forty days previous to its issuance. "The Mov- 
ing Picture World," until its issue of April 20th, has conducted 
a department for photo playwrights called "The Scenario 
Writer." In the issue of April 20th this department is changed 
to "The Photo Playwright," although it is spelled as one word, 
i. e., "photoplaywright." Do not let this similarity confuse you. 
"The Photo Playwright" is a magazine; "The Photoplaywright" 
is a department of a single page, sometimes two. The change 
in the name of the department in "The Moving Picture World" 
was made AFTER our publication had been advertised and the 
first issue circulated. There's a reason for the change. 



Owing to the fact that the Thanhouser company does not 
"buy its scenarios from the open market we have been unable 
to get the right kind of information concerning their scenario 
staff. From scenario writers and editors of other companies 
we heard that Bert Adler was the "main smear" at the Than- 
houser studio. In our April issue in the calendar we printed 
the following: 

Nothing wanted at present. Bert Adler, publicity man and 
scenario editor combined, writes all the scenarios, now and then 
assuming the chief roles. A sort of exclusive company. 

This referred, of course to the Thanhouser company. 

Mr. Adler writes as follows: 

"Will you in fairness to me and the company's scenario 
staff publish that the above is pure hokum, and also enlighten 
me on the source of your information? I am solely publicity 
man for this company. I have written but a single scenario for 
them in the whole course of my connection with them. I am 
not an actor and have never had a chief role, or produced a 
single picture." 

For this information, we thank Mr. Adler, knowing that it 
has come from the proper source, whether it is right or wrong. 
Mr. Adler evidently stepped over to the scenario editor's desk, 
for he also encloses the following: 

"We are not in the market for scenarios at the present time. 
Our own staff of writers furnish our subjects, and therefore 
we are not considering outside contributions. Should the 
Thanhouser Company again be in the market for scenarios, we 
will make announcement of the fact." 

Since all this correspondence has transpired we have received 
a communication from a scenario writer in New Jersey, who 
states : 

"I am a newspaper man and have had considerable experi- 
ence as a scenario writer, having prepared The Cry of the 
Children,' for the Thanhouser company, which was suggested 
by the famous poem of Elizabeth Barrett Browning. I have 
also prepared several other scenarios that have been produced 
by the Thanhouser company." 


So we wonder if this is "pure hokum." Does the Than- 
houser company buy from outsiders? At any rate, save your 
postage at this time for the companies that are buying scripts. 
When the Thanhouser company gets in the market, we will let 
our readers know. 

* * * 


Among the photo playwrights who have had marked success 
in their line are Emmett Campbell Hall, Louis Reeves Harrison, 
Bannister Merwin, Mrs. Hartman Breuil and Gene Gauntier. 

Bannister Merwin is a member of the scenario staff of the 
Edison company and is responsible for "The Insurgent Sena- 
tor," "The Dumb Wooing," "The Little Woolen Shoe," and many 
others produced by the Edison company. 

Gene Gauntier is a star of the Kalem stock company and is 
now in Jerusalem after spending three months at Luxor, Egypt, 
where she was engaged in the production of several Egyptian 
stories, soon to be released. Miss Gauntier is the author of 
"His Mother," "Big Jim," and "Sailor Jim's Reformation." She 
arranged most of "The Girl Spy" pictures that have been re- 
leased by the Kalem company and also assisted in the arrange- 
ment of "Arrah-na-Pogue," and "The Colleen Bawn," the Irish 
feature subjects produced by the O'Kalems. 

Mrs. Hartman Breuil, known among the manufacturers as 
Beta Breuil, is now scenario editor for the Vitagraph company. 
She is the author of "The Battle Hymn of the Republic," "On 
Board a Tramp Steamer," "Auld Lang Syne," "Nellie's Farm," 
and numerous other Vitagraph features. It might be men- 
tioned here that "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" is consid- 
ered among the film producers as the greatest picture of its 
kind ever produced. 

Besides Emmett Campbell Hall and Louis Reeves Harrison, 
the names of William V. Mong, Lawrence S. McCloskey, Chaun- 
cey D. Herbert, C. B. Hoadley, Giles R. Warren and Lanier 
Bartlett are among those who have found the key to gold and 
glory— What? 



Clyde P. Steen of Centralia, 111., is some guy, take it from 
Mr. Steen. We wonder why he hasn't turned to moving pic- 
tures and signed a life time contract with the manufacturers to 
"dish out" suitable plots for the pictures. Of this Mr .Steen, 
the Metropolitan Magazine of recent issue, under the heading 
of "Some Writer," says: 

"Proverbial is the self-deprecation of actors. The theatrical 
profession is a vast bed of Violets, shrinking behind a Mossy 
Stone. And who so modest as Clyde P. Steen, of Centralia, 
111., who advertises in 'The Billboard'? True, he prints his 
picture, but what of it? Mr. Steen 'writes vaudeville playlets, 
etc., to order.' 'Also,' he goes on to say, 'can write anything 
from a high class society drama to a minstrel show. I handle 
work only for a better class of performers. Formerly a mem- 
ber of the vaudeville team of Dailey and Weill. A newspaper 
man before and after. The only playwright in the country 
thus equipped. 

"I will write an act free, asking only the shipping and type- 
-writing expenses, to the third and twenty-third persons answer- 
ing this ad. I would rather do this than write these two acts 
for a dollar. I handle no dollar acts. If you want something 
successful, you must pay for it.' " 

To all of which we say: Mr. Steen is sure some guy, take 
it from Mr .Steen. The Metropolitan adds that Coventry Pat- 
more would delineate Mr. Steen in the above words. Yes, some 
guy that Mr. Steen. 

Not a day goes by but what we receive a letter from some 
dozen or more scribes who desire to know the "proper" number 
of scenes for a two reel photoplay. There is no fixed number. 
Some have 35 scenes, others run as high as 50. Anywhere be- 
tween 40 and 50 scenes seems to be about right, although one 
can't go much on the number, since it is the length of the 
scenes that counts. A single reel picture is supposed to take 
about twenty minutes in "running through" the projecting 
machine, and very naturally a two reel picture should take 
just twice as long. As a general rule, when the two reel pro- 
ductions are made, each reel takes about eighteen minutes. 


We advise scenario writers to gauge their scenes when arrang- 
ing two reel scenarios so if produced they can be "run through" 
in 35 or 40 minutes. 

Norman Macdonald, the scenario editor for the Essanay 
company, after perusing the first issue of "The Photo Play- 
wright," has the following to say: 

"Permit me to congratulate you upon your first issue of 
'The Photo Playwright,' and I have no doubt that it will prove 
of great help and encouragement to experienced scenario 
authors as well as those beginners, whose sincere efforts re- 
ceive oft-times so little commendation." 

It matters not to us whether this is "hokum" or something, 
else. Like the detective in Julian Eltinge's "Fascinating 
Widow," we must acknowledge "we like it." 

What sort of stuff are ideas made of? That is a matter 
that is up to you. An idea must hit you squarely between the 
eyes, must be a knockout, as Roosevelt termed the Illinois 
primaries. Probably ideas are made of this sort of stuff: 
No greater mischief could be wrought 
Than love united to a jealous thought, 
or probably this: 

O, Jealousy, 
Thou ugliest fiend of hell! 
or better yet: 

O, beware, my lord, of jealousy! 
It is the green-eyed monster. 
Surely you can conjure up some idea of hatred, venom, or 
something just as bad from these crashing symbols of Webster. 

Matthew White, Jr., editor of "The Argosy," in giving advice 
to the short story writer, says that big consequences out of such 
ordinary incidents as missing a train are more apt to interest 
than to have the hero's pitfalls deliberately arranged for by a 
villain, since the big consequence must come as a complete sur- 
prise. Mr. White's advice can apply to the writing of a "play- 
script" (our new word for scenario), and if the reader will 


look elsewhere in this issue he will find that the instructions 
of Mrs. Hartman Breuil as to the wants of the Vitagraph com- 
pany express the same thought as the words of Mr. White. 

Just because you purchase a book on the technique of the 
photoplay or take a course irf scenario writing do not think that 
everything you write will sell. You must remember that it is 
the idea that sells. It is sometimes the case that writers be- 
come "too techniquey" after reading the established rules for 
scenario writing. They forget the idea and study subtitles, 
leaders, scenes, etc. By all means tell a story, a new and un- 
usual story. Make it act, Feel it. Technique will come to 
you. It is like playing a piano. At first you have to get next 
to the hang of things. When you once get started you don't 
even watch your hands — you just bang it out, keeping your 
eyes on the music. It's that way in scenario writing. Don't 
worry about the technique after you've studied it for a time. 
It will come to you. Worry about ideas. 

In reply to an inquiry we wish to say that as long as we are 
humans just that long will there be good ideas for photoplays. 
Human nature changes, as will the ideas for the pictures. The 
real ideas, the human ones, have just begun to develop. As 
yet the proper persons have not been found to handle them for 
the picture camera. We are living in a progressive age — an 
age when ideas are changed over night. What may be unfit for 
production in pictures today will be sought for on the morrow. 
So what's the use of thinking of a scarcity of ideas? 

* * - « 


We are going to add another member to our scenario staff 
and desire to pick that person from the rank and file of the 
photo playwrights. If you have been in the picture play- 
writing game for three years or more, if you have written some 
of the really big stories that have been produced, then you are 
an acceptable candidate. You must show what you have done, 
show what you can do, and surely that is a plenty. But, we 
want this person, be you a "he" or a "she," to be gifted with that 
amount of common sense that informs you of the fact that you 
are just a photo playwright whose ideas are just a little better 
than are those of your brothers. We do not want a genius. 
If you are such an one, and think you would like to work six 
days in every week; or forty-eight hours every six days, write 
us. Tell us all you've got to tell, stating what you think you 
are worth. Address your letters to Manager, Photoplay Enter- 
prise Association, Boonville, Ind. 



In this department we will publish, each month, the names 
and addresses of the motion picture manufacturers who are in 
the market for playscripts, together with such other informa- 
tion as we may deem of value to the photo playwright. 

Locust Ave., Brooklyn, N. Y. 

Short, crisp, modern, Ave hundred foot comedies, or farce com- 
edies, are more in demand than anything else. Also strong orig- 
inal dramas, leading up to, if possible, one tense scene, which 
will keep the audience breathless. Prompt consideration of 
scripts. Pay is good. 

LUBIN MANUFACTURING CO., Indiana Ave., Philadelphia, Pa. 

Strong original society dramas, those containing heart interest 
mostly desired, also comedies which have plenty of real live 
humor. The essential thing is originality of theme, no matter in 
what environment it is worked out. Western studio is located at 
1625 Fleming St., Los Angeles, Cal., where Western and Spanish 
stories should be submitted. Prompt consideration and good pay. 

RELIANCE STUDIO, 540 West 21st St., New York, N. Y. 

Intense emotional stories of American life, replete with strong^ 
vital dramatic situations. Novelty and originality in both theme 
and situation are requisite factors to be considered. Can also 
use good clean cut comedies for split and full reels. Name of 
author is placed on the film. Immediate consideration given all 
manuscripts and excellent pay for the exceptional idea. 

BIOGRAPH COMPANY, 11 East 14th St., New York, N. Y. 

Do not send any scripts to New York company. Western studio 
is located at Los Angeles, Pico and Georgia Sts., which company 
is offering to buy good half reel comedies, but the material must 
be good. Two weeks is required for consideration. 

THOMAS A. EDISON, INC., 2826 Decatur Ave., Bedford Park, 
New York, N. Y. 

Desires scripts detailing quick action comedy. Comedy dramas 
are acceptable. Strong and appealing dramas of American life 
are also desired, but they must have an exceptionally strong 
climax. Historic incidents are available. Do not try to put 
something over on this company for they are prepared to nail 
you. Name of author is placed on film, advertising poster, bul- 
letins, etc. Good pay. 

BISON PACIFIC COAST STUDIO, Attention of Richard V. 
Spencer, 1719 Allesandro St., Edendale, Los Angeles, Cal. 

See article "We Have With Us Tonight," printed on another page 
of this issue, wherein this company's wants are outlined. 


G. MELIES CO., Santa Paula, California. 

Western comedies and dramas are acceptable. Dramas must 
permit the big scene. Eliminate the triangle — (the wife who has 
a lover) — in your dramas. Good stuff with heart interest and 
opportunities for Western acting preferred. No blood and thun- 
der will get by. Be original. Good pay and prompt consider- 

PATHE FRERES, 1-3-5 Congress St., Jersey City Heights, N. J. 

Buying intense emotional and heart interest dramas which call 
for American atmosphere. Comedies purchased now and then. 
All material for Western Co., is prepared by their own staff. 
Two weeks required for consideration. 

THANHOUSER CO., New Rochelle, N. Y. 

See article, "Justice for Adler," printed elsewhere in this issue 
wherein the statement of this company is given. 

IMP FILMS CO., 102 West 101st St., New York City, N. Y. 

Mail your scripts to this address: Imp Scenario Editor, 515 West' 
56th St., New York City. They will consider historical and Bibli- 
cal plots, also comedies and human interest stuff with big climax. 
The Imp Company's Western studio is located at 309 Delta Bldg., 
Los Angeles, Cal., where they also buy scripts calling for four 
leading characters and few interior scenes. Fifteen to twenty 
days required to consider scripts. 

ECLAIR FILM CO., Linwood Ave., Fort Lee, N. J. 

Their scenario editor says: "We desire scenarios with short cast, 
of quick action comedy, strong drama, historic incidents, and 
stories of typical American life. Manuscripts will be given prompt 

SELIG POLYSCOPE CO. 20 East Randolph St., Chicago, 111. 

Most the photoplays produced by this company are prepared by 
the regular scenario staff maintained. However, comedies wi* 
sell, also good dramas.. They are very exacting, consequently buy 
very few manuscripts. 

KALEM COMPANY, 235-239 West 23rd St., New York, N. Y. 

Dramas of business life are wanted — ones with novel situations 
and gripping story permitting a solar, plexus climax. Historical 
themes will also be considered. 

SOLAX COMPANY, Flushing, N. Y. 

Refined comedies are wanted — ones that will permit Billy Quirk 
'to assume chief role. Spectacular dramas — ones with gripping 
and novel plot, will be considered. Now and then will use mys- 
tery stories. Require from ten to fifteen days to consider script. 
Pay is average. 

CHAMPION FILM CO., 12 East 15th St., New York, N. Y. 

Unusual stories — the kind you don't hear of every day — that will 
permit a big climax and plenty of heart interest is desired by this 
company. Comedies also used. 

REX MOTION PICTURE MFG. CO., 573-79 Eleventh Ave., New 
York, N. Y. 

You must see a "Rex" photoplay to know what to prepare for 
this concern. We say: Marion Leonard dramas are desired. 
The big emotional human life story with intense scenes and heart 
gripping theme is desirable. Their stories almost border on 


REPUBLIC FILM CO., 145 West 45th St., New York, N. Y. 

Plots calling- for strong - , vital dramatic situations are desired by 
this company. The story must be unusual. 

AMERICAN FILM MFG. CO., Bank Floor, Ashland Block, 
Chicago, 111. 

Scripts not wanted just at this time. Announcement relative to 
needs will be made in next issue of "The Photo Playwright." 

NESTOR STUDIO, Sunset Boulevard and Gower St., Holly- 
wood, Cal. 

Clean cut comedy in demand. Comedy-drama also needed. 

MAJESTIC MOTION PICTURE CO., 145 West 45th St., New 
York, N. Y. 

High class comedies are wanted. Stuff must be original and 
produce the laughs because of plot. Good light dramas are also 

A £± Q 1 T* €X V) 1 A 

ESSANAY FJLM MFG. CO., 1315-1333 Argyle St., Chicago, 111. 

See next issue of "The Photo Playwright." Nothing needed just 


This company manufactures "Shamrock" Alms. Unusual stories 
of American life will be considered. 

POWERS MOTION PICTURE CO., 416 to 422 W. 216th St., 
New York, N. Y. 

Buying comedies and dramas. Idea must be original and novel 
in conception. Practically any good original plot will be consid- 
ered. Ten days required to consider script. Payment is average. 

* * * 


In "The Photo Playwright" for June we will inaugurate a 
department headed, "Answers to Inquiries." The same will be 
devoted to the answering of questions of general interest, only. 
Involved questions on technique will not be answered in the 
department. Only ordinary questions will receive attention. 
Give your name and address as evidence of good faith. It will 
not be used. Only subscribers need make inquiries. Letters 
from outsiders will not be considered. 

* * -* 


Photo Playwright for Scenario Writer. 

Playscript for Scenario. 

Inscript for Sub-title or Leader. 

Photofilms for Films (when meaning positive prints.) 



Ideas are sometimes hard to find; you rack your aching 
brain and try to load your mental dope into the proper 
train. Alas, alas! It comes to naught— there's no idea 
there. * With frantic haste and finger-nails you tear out 
tufts of hair. Ideas that sparkled yesterday are gone to- 
day for good. Your brain is made of puddin' sauce, your 
head, of solid wood. The more you think, the less you 
think — it is an effort, too. Maybe there is a cause for this 
— Spring Fever's nearly due. 

6 < * * 


A correspondent asks "The Magazine Maker" for informa- 
tion relative to the dramatizing of his own story which has been 
previously published in a magazine. The inquiry reads as fol- 

"May I turn the plot of my story that appeared in a maga- 
zine a few months ago into a moving picture? I am sure that 
with a few changes it will make a good picture scenario." 

The editor of "The Magazine Maker" answers the inquiry 
in the following manner: 

"Much depends on the magazine that accepted your story. 
Some magazines retain all rights, not allowing an author either 
picture or dramatic rights; others are more liberal, allowing an 
author every right outside of the magazine right. Munsey's, 
for instance, have it in the contract that all rights belong to 
the magazine and when you sign their check you give up all 
claims. You should write to the magazine that published your 
story and ask for permission to turn your plot into a photoplay. 
Then, if you follow the plot very closely in dramatizing it, you 
should explain to the moving picture company that the idea of 
this appeared in a certain magazine but that you have the full 
right to dramatize it. That will straighten everything out. It 
is best, however, in submiting a story, if you have any idea of 
making a photoplay of it, to withhold dramatic rights." 

To all of which we say: That's the situation in a nut shell. 




The Photo Playwright 

Your subscription will be of more 
value and encouragement to us than 
ten subscriptions a year from now. 

Everybody in the business should 
have it, for it is valuable for man 
and boy, old-timer and beginner. 

Its purpose is to assist the scenario writer and promote his 
welfare, being devoted to the best interests of picture playwrights. 
It gives such information as is desired and needed by students of 
the photoplay. 

Make All Remittances Payable To 

The Photoplay Enterprise Association 


Single Copy 15 cents 

For the Year $1.00 

Send your subscription today and get every issue. 
Send it now, if possible. 


To scenario writers who desire the proper tools for their work, 
namely, paper and envelopes, we make the following- offer: 


100 sheets paper, 8^x11 inches 

100 envelopes, No. 11 

100 envelopes, No. 10 (enclosures) 

The above order will be doubled on receipt of money order 
for $2.00. 

The envelopes mentioned above are not the ordinary cheap 
white envelopes generally used, but tough Manila envelopes — just 
the thing for mailing scenarios. 



Conditions in the moving picture w r orld are constantly chang- 
ing; the demands of the scenario editors are many and varied with 
these changes. To keep abreast of the times, all writers should 
be regular subscribers to one or more of the reputable photoplay 
publications. We quote you the following rates: 

Moving Picture World, $2.75 


"" The regular price of this publication is $3.00 a year. The 
Photoplay Enterprise Association recommends it as ehe best of 
its kind printed. 

Motion Picture Story Magazine, $1.40 

A publication of a different sort — it tells the stories of the best 
photoplays in story form — finely illustrated. The regular price is 
$1.50 a year. 

The Photoplay Enterprise Association 


How to Write and Market 
Moving Picture Plays 

Is undoubtedly the most far-reaching work on scenario 
writing now in print. 


"We have perused carefully and with great Interest your 
book, 'How to Write and Market Moving Picture Plays,' and 
we can only endorse all that you state concerning: the writing 
of moving picture plays. 

"Let us hope that all scenario writers will follow your 
instructions to the great pleasure and comfort of all moving 
picture manufacturers now compelled to read an ever increas- 
ing number of poor productions in the hope of finding a gem 
amongst them." 


"Before purchasing your book I made several attempts to write and 
sell picture plays — always failed. Up to date I have written eleven and 
sold eight, bringing me $265." — E. K. J., Indianapolis, Ind. 

"My first scenario has been purchased for $50." — A. W. B., Colorado 
Springs, Colo. 

"Yesterday's mail brought me two checks, one for $25, another for 
$20, being payment for two moving picture scenarios that were written 
after work hours." — C. H. R., Red Oak, Iowa. 

How to Write and Market Moving Picture Plays 


It teaches the rudiments of writing photoplay plots — ones that con- 
tain heart-throbs and hearty laughs. It teaches you how to evolve worth- 
while plots; it tells how to construct the salable scenario; what the pro- 
ducer wants, and why; how to market the manuscript. It is a complete 
mail course in picture play-writing prepared in the form of a book con- 


PHOTOPLAY KNOWLEDGE— Grammar and Spelling; Photoplay 
Terms; Photoplay Distinctions; Classification of Photoplays; Photoplay 
Ideas; What to Avoid; Camera and Studio Conditions; Photoplay Limita- 
tions; Economical Considerations; Photoplay Don'ts. 

TECHNIQUE*" OF THE PHOTOPLAY — Photoplay Construction; The 
Plot; Atmosphere and Effects; The Synopsis; A Completed Scenario; The 
Type Script; What Manufacturers Demand; Manufacturers' Names and 
Addresses; Submitting the Manuscripts Photoplay Rules. 

Price $1.50 Mailed Anywhere in the United States 

n/ir-ppi v nn THIQ Now, are you going to let $1.50 stand between 
lYic.nn.i_Y ukj inio you and thls chance t o get your start in this 
profession? Stop right now — send for this book — it will sell your scenarios. 

Book Department 

The Photoplay Enterprise Association 



To scenario writers who desire the proper tools for their work, 
namely, paper and envelopes, we make the following offer: 


100 sheets paper, 8^x11 inches ... 

100 envelopes, No. 11 

100 envelopes, No. 10 (enclosures) 

The above order will be doubled on receipt of money order 
for $2.00. 

The envelopes mentioned above are not the ordinary cheap 
white envelopes generally used, but tough Manila envelopes — just 
the thing for mailing scenarios. 



Conditions in the moving picture world are constantly chang- 
ing; the demands of the scenario editors are many and varied with 
these changes. To keep abreast of the times, all writers should 
be regular subscribers to one or more of the reputable photoplay 
publications. We quote you the following rates: 

Moving Picture World, $2.75 


The regular price of this publication is $3.00 a year. The 
Photoplay Enterprise Association recommends it as ehe best of 
its kind printed. 

Motion Picture Story Magazine, $1.40 

A publication of a different sort — it tells the stories of the best 
photoplays in story form — finely illustrated. The regular price is 
$1.50 a year. 

The Photoplay Enterprise Association 


How to Write and Market 
Moving Picture Plays 

Is undoubtedly the most far-reaching work on scenario 
writing now in print. 


"We have perused carefully and with great interest your 
book, 'How to Write and Market Moving Picture Plays,' and 
we can only endorse all that you state concerning- the writing 
of moving picture plays. 

"Let us hope that all scenario writers will follow your 
instructions to the great pleasure and comfort of all moving 
picture manufacturers now compelled to read an ever increas- 
ing number of poor productions in the hope of finding a gem 
amongst them." 


"Before purchasing your book I made several attempts to write and 
sell picture plays — always failed. Up to date I have written eleven and 
sold eight, bringing me |265." — E. K. J., Indianapolis, Ind. 

"My first scenario has been purchased for $50." — A. W. B., Colorado 
Springs, Colo. 

"Yesterday's mail brought me two checks, one for $25, another for 
$20, being payment for two moving picture scenarios that were written 
after work hours." — C. H. R., Red Oak, Iowa. 

How to Write and Market Moving Picture Plays 


It teaches the rudiments of writing photoplay plots — ones that con- 
tain heart-throbs and hearty laughs. It teaches you how to evolve worth- 
while plots; it tells how to construct the salable scenario; what the pro- 
ducer wants, and why; how to market the manuscript. It is a complete 
mail course in picture play-writing prepared in the form of a book con- 


PHOTOPLAY KNOWLEDGE — Grammar and Spelling; Photoplay 
Terms; Photoplay Distinctions; Classification of Photoplays; Photoplay 
Ideas; What to Avoid; Camera and Studio Conditions; Photoplay Limita- 
tions; Economical Considerations; Photoplay Don'ts. 

TECHNIQUE*" OF THE PHOTOPLAY — Photoplay Construction; The 
Plot; Atmosphere and Effects; The Synopsis; A Completed Scenario; The 
Type Script; What Manufacturers Demand; Manufacturers' Names and 
Addresses; Submitting the Manuscripts Photoplay Rules. 

Price $1.50 Mailed Anywhere in the United States 

iipppi v n< -v jm|<j Now, are you going to let $1.60 stand between 
rocncuT uyj ,rMO you and this chance to get your start in this 
profession? Stop right now — send for this book — it will sell your scenarios. 

Book Department 

The Photoplay Enterprise Association 


JUN 19 1912 




Vol. 1 JUNE, 1912 No. 3 

"Let this plain truth those ingrates strike, 
Who still, tho blest, new blessings crave, 

That we may all have what we like, 
Simply by liking what we have." 


Ten Things I Would Tell a Beginner. 


A Chat With Tom Powers 


Brass Tack Talks 

Devoted to the Interests of the 

Scenario Writer 
I 1 

How to Write and Market 
Moving Picture Plays 

Is undoubtedly the most far-reaching work on scenario 
writing now in print. 


"We have perused carefully and with great interest your 
book, 'How to Write and Market Moving Picture Plays/ and 
we can only endorse all that you state concerning- the writing 
of moving picture plays. 

"Let us hope that all scenario writers will follow your 
instructions to the great pleasure and comfort of all moving 
picture manufacturers now compelled to read an ever increas- 
ing number of poor productions in the hope of finding a gem 
amongst them." 


"Before purchasing your book I made several attempts to write and 
sell picture plays — always failed. Up to date I have written eleven and 
sold eight, bringing me $265." — E. K. J., Indianapolis, Ind. 

"My first scenario has been purchased for $50." — A. W. B., Colorado 
Springs, Colo. 

"Yesterday's mall brought me two checks, one for $25, another for 
$20, being payment for two moving picture scenarios that were written 
after work hours." — C. H. R., Red Oak, Iowa. 

How to Write and Market Moving Picture Plays 


It teaches the rudiments of writing photoplay plots— ones that con- 
tain heart-throbs and hearty laughs. It teaches you how to evolve worth- 
while plots; it tells how to construct the salable scenario; what the pro- 
ducer wants, and why; how to market the manuscript. It is a complete 
mail course in picture play-writing prepared In the form of a book con- 


PHOTOPLAY KNOWLEDGE] — Grammar and Spelling; Photoplay 
Terms; Photoplay Distinctions; Classification of Photoplays; Photoplay 
Ideas; What to Avoid; Camera and Studio Conditions; Photoplay Limita- 
tions; Economical Considerations; Photoplay Don'ts. 

TECHNIQUES OF THE PHOTOPLAY— Photoplay Construction; The 
Plot; Atmosphere and Effects; The Synopsis; A Completed Scenario; The 
Type Script; What Manufacturers Demand; Manufacturers' Names and 
Addresses; Submitting the Manuscript! Photoplay Rules. 

Price $1.50 Mailed Anywhere in the United States 

M bdci v nn THIQ Now, are you going to let $1.60 stand between 
mtriC, - T uu in i© you and tnl8 chanC e to get your start in this 
profession? Stop right now — send for this book — it will sell your scenarios. 

Book Department 

The Photoplay Enterprise Association 




Vol. 1 

JUNE, 1912 

No. 3 

A Chat With Tom Powers ...„. , 3 

Ten Things I Would Tell a Beginner.. *...,..... 6 

Mrs. Hartmann Breuil 

Brass Tack Talks , . . . , 7 

Monte M. Katterjohn 

Some Recent Photoplays _, ,....., 11 

The Photoplay Mart , 13 

The Amateur Scenario Writer ,. 17 

Answers to Iuquiries .. 23 

The Future of Photoplays..... 25 

Notes Remarks Gossip 

it is ONE 

Copyright 1912 by 

The Photoplay Enterprise 


it is 




The Photo Playwright 

Devoted to the Interests of the Scenario Writer. 





It ain't so dad-blamed easy, arter all ; a-writin' 
these here funny pictur' plots. I seen an advertise- 
ment long last Fall, offerin' fifty dollars fer new 
thoughts. '"Send in yer idees mebbe yew will hit th' 
nail square on th' head, fust thing yew know 'fore yer 
through, yew'll hev writ a play," th' advertisements 
said. I alius go tew see these pictur' plays — I don't 
miss nothin' good, never fear ! But when I'm busy cut- 
tin' corn, there's days an days an' days I don't git near. 
But arter readin' 'bout thet easy coin, I knocked off 
work more'n a week, an' I spent my time visitin' shows, 
a-studyin' up th ? subjec'. so ter speak. Now all this 
here happened long last Fall — an' play-writin' ain't 
so easy arter all. 

Well, several of them pieces took my eyes, an' my 
best gal, Sairy Jane, she liked 'em, too. I jest made 
up my mind thet by an' by I'd show 'em all what I 
could do. Some of them actors wuz quite pert; 'spe- 
cially in th' scenes where they made love. But Sairy 
Jane said: "You're a flirt!" when I cas'ally men- 
tioned th' above. I told her I wuz writin' pictur' plays 
an' needed some kissin' parts in one. "You'd better 
stick ter cuttin' corn these days, an' quit this here 
writin' you've begun !" An' this wuz all I got from 
Sairy Jane, when I wanted tew git some intrust stuff. 
An' arter thet she didn't act th' same, but peared tu 
be in a constant huff. Air I told my ole bay mare, 
Susan, in her stall, thet play-writin' ain't so easv arter 

It ain't so dad-blamed easy arter all; a-writin' 
these here "simple" pictur' plots. I writ' an' writ', an' 
writ' all through th' Fall, an' my pieces cum back hum 
as quick as shots. All of these here Editurs wuz kind, 
an' said "Yer plays will never, never do; this here we 
regret to find; an' we's try someth:n' else if we wuz 
yew." Then I turned back tew cuttin' corn, an' doin' 
th' chores 'bout th' place. An' then, so sure as yew air 
born, Sairy Jane hed smiles upon her face! "Let some- 
one else do th' writinV I said, "seein' 'em is good 
ernough fer me''; an' Sairy Jane jest turned her 
purty head, an' she looked as pleased, as pleased could 
be. One feller only in this world I'll maul, if he sez 
play writin's easy arter all ! — William Lord Wright 
in "Moving Picture Tales." 


Vol. I JUNE, 1912. No. 3 


(By the Editor.) 

All of our readers know Tom Powers. His greatest and 
best work was in Vitagraph's "The Illumination, " in which 
photoplay he assumed the role of Joseph, the young Jew, who 
became converted to the faith of the Nazarene by witnessing 
the restoration of a blind man's sight. 

This is the Tom Powers we are talking about. 

In "The Illumination,'' his work was idealistic and sin- 
cere. In real life he is idealistic, likewise sincere. Steadiness 
of purpose and depth of feeling are revealed to the most cas- 
ual observer of his face. He is very frank. 

When a man is named "Tom" we never like to call him 
"Mister." It happens that Tom Powers will not stand being 
called Mr. Powers. Just plain "Tom" suits him. "You will like 
him for this. 

Tom has been lounging around at De Gonia Springs, four 
and one-half miles east of Boonville where he has been getting 
close to nature and drinking the salt and phosphate waters 
from the natural springs. 

On the particular morning the writer visited the springs, 
Tom was returning to the hotel, bare-headed and bespectacled. 
He was wearing glasses as the result of his physician's orders, 
his sight being affected when facing the numerous arc lights 
used in "The Illumination." He was wearing plow shoes, a 
workman's brown shirt, open at the throat, and his trousers 
were very noticeable owing to the dirt. He did not, positively, 
look like the convert Sabina (Helen Gardner) imagined him. 
("Illumination" reference.) 

Our conversation finally settled down to his work. He 
told such funny things, told them just right, and said them so 

different that the writer would first sit back and roar, then 
bend forward and listen, having the mouth open to catch what 
the ear missed. 

"What if any, are your relations to an accepted scen- 
ario?" was the first question propounded relative to the script. 

"Oh, I just read the story over a few times, run through 
the scenes and note the general work and try to get an idea of 
the character created by the author. Then when everything is 
ready, I try to act the part," came Tom's reply. 

He told funny stories, also, to illustrate his work, stating 
that he had found it necessary, numerous times, to change the 
type of the character represented in the script so as to permit 
better acting. 

"What about the director? Does he alter the scripts?" 

"Oh yes, he is chief executioner. There are some scenar- 
ios which contain only the vestige of photoplay plot. Mrs. 
Breuil, our scenario editor, purchases these and then discusses 
the changes with the director and others of the company. Some 
times only two or three of the original scenes as mapped out by 
the author remain after the director finishes his work. You 
see we try to work the story into picture shape, whipping it 
around so it will permit the members of the company to do 
their best work." 

The tald simmered down to some of the ludicrous inci- 
dents at the Vitagraph studio, and finally Tom talked about 
"registering." The writer failed to "catch the drift" at first, 
and finally asked if it was anything like registering in order 
to vote. 

Between, howls of laughter, Tom explained. Grabbing 
hold of his boy companion, he placed his arms around him, 
told him of his pent up love, smiled and talked, asked him to 
marry him and finally kissed him. During all the while he 
made his eyes and mouth work. He was "registering." 

"Kegistering" for the motion picture camera means de- 
lineating the facial expressions. Tom is sure some "registerer." 

He explained that he had a ten foot hug — rather, that his 
hug always lasted through ten feet of film and that the Na- 
tional Censorship Board had cautioned him to get his hug in- 
to four feet of film. 

"What are the differences, if any, between the scenarios 
written by Mrs. Breuil, Mr. Mullins and Mr. Gaskill and ac- 
ceptable scripts purchased from outsiders?" asked the writer. 

"The chief difference between the studio scripts and those 
of the outsiders is in the writing in of little parts of business. 

Mr. Gaskill and others of the Vitagraph staff always make their 
stories so clear that it is easy for the actor or actress who as- 
sumes the leading role to grasp the author's idea of the char- 
acter. The amateur writer seldom provides much basic mater- 
ial, leaving the work to the director, the scenario editor or the 

"But you receive some good scripts from outsiders, don't 
you?" I asked. 

"To be sure. There are several good writers whose scripts 
are always welcome. The Vitagraph company has made ar- 
rangements with these writers for a first reading on all scripts 
they may write, and when we find acceptable plots, we pay 
very good prices for them." 

"And you write photoplays, of course?" was the next 
query, and to which he replied as follows: 

"Well ,no. I have never written a script, but I have turned 
my ideas over to our writers, who have arranged scripts from 
them. My ideas have been a means of buying several meals, 
and as photoplays, they have proven fairly good." 

Mr. Powers, rather "Tom," went on to say that not a day 
goes by but what some person, recognizing him as a photo 
player, will detail or outline a plot to him. He also said that 
just as many people, mostly girls, sought positions with the 
company and upon meeting him, hoped to get a berth with the 

Tom thinks Miss Helen Gardner is the greatest panto- 
mimic actress in the world, and like her, his God is intellect. 
He expects to sail for Italy in July, and will spend several 
weeks cruising along the Mediterranean. 


(By Mrs. Hartmann Breuil.) 

Mrs. Breuil is editor of scripts for the Vitagraph company and 
has had entire charge of the manuscript department fo rthe last 
two years. She is the author of more than a hundred successful 
photoplays. This experience qualifies her to make the following 
statements, which should be of more than passing interest to the 
amateur photo playwright. 

1st. Find your plot in any unusual incident you may 
know or can imagine, then think it over carefully before you 
begin to write. 

2nd. Act it out to yourself, timing each movement at the 
rate of one second to a foot of film. 

3rd. In writing the play, or acting it, use common sense 
in realizing what can "get over" without words. 

4th. Where action cannot carry the idea, a sub-title in 
the fewest possible words must be cut in. 

5th. Tf possible, avoid lapses of "Ten Years Later," etc. 

6th. Always have a short synopsis on the first page of 
the manuscript. 

7th. Do not send a long letter with your scenario. It 
does no good and merely takes much of the editor's time. 

8th. Express your ideas in the fewest possible words. 

9th. Write in any unusual "business" which may occur 
to you. 

10th. Remember — "There is always room at the top." 


Emmet Campbell Hall says he has made $1,485.00 in twelve 
months by writing scenarios, and that he has twelve scripts to 
hear from. This is too much money for any scenario writer to 
have — but of course Mr. Hall never received that much all at 
once. It is quite likely that the checks came along just often 
enough to pay the rent. 




Not long ago we received a communication from a certain 
man claiming authorship of u The Cry of The Children," a re- 
cent feature photoplay released by the Thanh ouser company. 
In justice to the author of the photoplay who is Mrs. Harriet 
Guthrie Lewis of Camden, N. J., we desire to state that grat- 
uitous information of this sort is not desired unless it is 
authentic and can be verified. The editor has received a let- 
ter from Mrs. Lewis which provides indisputable proof as to 
the origin of the idea for "The Cry of The Children" a3 well 
as to the arrangement of the script. Surely our newspaper 
friend had no hand in the production of this photoplay. We 
have received assurance from the Thanhouser company that 
none other than Mrs. Lewis and their own scenario editor had 
anything to do with the preparation of the photoplay. 

The editor of "The Photo Playwright" is glad this con- 
troversy came up. It has established better relations with the 
Thanhouser company, with Mr. Bertram Adler, and has 
brought us a ringing testimonial as to the worth of this pub- 

In the letter received from Mrs. Lewis relative to "The Cry 
of The Children," she says : 

"The Vision of Sir Launfal," and, "The Only Veteran in 
Town," by the Vitagraph, are mine. I do not know if they 
have been produced yet. In this morning's mail I received a 
check from G. MeHes for a Western, out of the usual, which 
I sold to them almost two weeks ago. Ten days were con- 
sumed after I accepted their price, in going and returning. I 
have your paper to thank for that check, as I had never ser- 

iously considered them. As they ask for more, my indebted- 
ness to you may not cease there. If you should have an op- 
portunity to see 'The Kiss of Salvation,' which they expect to 
release the last of August, you will see the play I have just 
sold to them. 'Out of the Dark," and 'The Outcast' are two of 
mine which have not yet been advertised by the Thanhouser 
but which I have reason to believe will soon be produced." 

We like to hear from writers like Mrs. Lewis ,and If it 
takes a controversy to bring such letters, then we approve of 
controversies. Mr. Bertram Adler writes us as follows : 

"Current 'Photo Playwright' to hand containing 'Justice 
for Adler,' which it was very fair of you to publish. As a mat- 
ter of fact it would be a waste of postage for writers to sub- 
mit stuff here just now; and I am glad that you put this point 
over." Mr. Adler adds: "You have a well edited publication 
and I wish you much success in it. Will you please be kind 
enough to send me some extra copies of current number?" 

The copies have been mailed. 

Today is the best day ever — tomorrow will be better. 

A new department will be instituted in our next issue, 
July, to be known as "The Clearing House," which will be, 
primarily ,for the exchange of ideas pertaining to the writing 
of photoplays. We would be pleased to hear from our readers. 
Suggestions will be appreciated and proper credit given all 
who write the kind of stuff that interests. 

I have just received a communication from Mr. W. Han- 
son Durham of Belfast, Maine, who writes: "I have just 
bought me a new Maxwell car with the profits from the sale 
of scenarios of the past few months, so you see that I have been 
making good and am still doing so." 

Five good strong, virile photoplays, one of thorn a corac dy, 
will be released by the Vitagraph company during May and 
June, all written by Mr. Durham. Then there are some coin- 
ing Durham releases from the Kalem and Melies r crapa/iies. 
So 31 u see Mr. 1 Durham's statement relative to Maxwell auto- 
mobile, etc., is reall.v plausible. 

By the time this issue gets into the hands of our readers, 
this aforesaid photo playwright will be enjoying life in the 


woods of northern Maine, having gone there in his "photoplay 

1 am trying to get him to contribute another article to 
"Tliu Photo riaywright," and if Mr. Durham lives through his 
vacation there will be such an article in our next issue. 

• Our readers will notice that several new names appear in 
The list of companies purchasing scenarios, among them, the 
following : Gem, Victor, Crystal and Comet. These companies, 
while new in name, are old in experience. The men behind 
them are old hands in the business, and it will be useless for 
you to send them your time worn and travel stained manu 
scripts. What they want is good, new, strong and original 
stuff. Eecent changes in the film world have brought out these 
new companies, and for the good of the photo playwright, we 
hope they prosper. Therefore, we warn you to send them only 
your very best stuff if you hope to create an impression. 

It is absolutely essential that the Photo Playwright, in 
addition to possessing a sound knowledge of his subject, should 
be thoroughly acquainted with the locality in which he con- 
fines his action, and should know, intimately, the character- 
istics and customs of the people of his play. 

Such information is an absolutely indispensable factor in 
the constructing of good plots. For instance, if you are not 
acquainted with the customs of the Indians, do not try to 
write a photoplay telling of an Indian romance. It would be 

If the scene of action be on the vast plains of the West, 
among the canyons and crags of the Kockies, or on the Bow- 
ery, then take the spectator with you. Let him feel the real- 
ism. Have him feel the true condition of things — make them 

You must know your story to avoid incongruities. Edi- 
tors of scenarios dislike incongruities — a repection results. 

As applied to the photoplay, the term "effect" denotes a 
truthful representation of a scene forcefully shown as of light, 
shade and color. 

Any strikingly impressive situation may be used as an 
effect. Contrive your plot so as to permit effects. 

Of course this matter of effects lies with the producer, but 

if the writer gives the producer the opportunity, it is a safe 
bet that he will take advantage of it. 

In "The Gentleman Burglar," an early release and tri- 
umph of the Edison Company, a very impressive effect is cor- 
rectly contrived. The burglar, now posing as a good and 
righteous man, has just killed his pal. In the scufflle the lights 
are knocked out. In the darkness, one sees the flash of the re- 
volver. Then the burglar lights a cigaret while bending over 
the prostrate body of his pal. 

A few days ago a friend of mine came into the office to 
tell me he had a capital idea for a Photoplay. He told the 
plot — a nice little thing, but old as the hills — and wound up by 
stating that it was true, and that he knew the principal char- 
acters, only in the picture that would sure be produced, he 
wanted the names changed. After he had completed his 
eulogy I informed him that producers, as a rule, use very few 
true stories. Of course he was amazed and refused to be con- 
vinced, but that fellow wasn't a photo playwright — he was a 
clerk in a coal office. If you are a photo playwright, get this 
into your head — don't ever write a scenario editor and say: 
"This is a true story. I am ecquainted with the principals, 
having lived among the Ute Indians for six years." Don't 
write at all. 

Of course this weather is something awful, but keep on 
writing. Don't lay down and give up the ghost. Keep ever- 
lastingly at it. First thing you know some scenario editor 
will send you a check, and then you'll feel rewarded for all Ihe 
failures of the past. Remember, work from now until our 
next issue. 

Yours for photoplays, 





This month we consider "The Insurgent Senator," (Edi- 
son) and "The Triumph of Right," (Vitagraph). The script 
for the first mentioned was prepared by Bannister Merwin, 
one of the recognized successful photo playwrights whose work 
is mainly for the Edison company. The Vitagraph production 
is from the pen of W. Hanson Durham. A synopsis of "The 
Insurgent Senator" reads as follows: 

A young senator finds himself opposed to the methods of the 
boss and his particular henchmen in the matter of a certain bill 
which is being put through in the interest of a group of financiers. 
The boss tries the social bait, inviting him to his own home, intro- 
ducing him to his daughter, wife and friends. He falls in love with 
the daughter, but even with this subtle influence, they are unable 
to win him to their way of thinking. 

As a last resort they draft a supposititious letter charging the 
girl's father with treachery and graft in case the bill fails to pass. 
The boss takes care to leave this letter where his daughter will find 
it, and feeling that her father's honor is at stake, she at once goes 
to the young senator's office to plead with him not to make his 
speech against the bill. She uses her womanly arts to such effect 
that he several times waivers in his determination, but his honor 
is stronger even than his love. She finally seizes his manuscript 
and tears it up before him. Realizing then what her object has 
been, he takes her in his arms, kisses her roughly and dashes out 
of the room to arrive at the Senate Chamber just in time to make 
his speech from memory. 

The girl is shocked and stunned for a moment and then begins 
to realize the kind of man she has been dealing with. When he re- 
turns he finds her still in his office, his manuscript partly put to- 
gether again, and when the defeated boss comes to reckon with him 
and finds his daughter there he learns that she has chosen the bet- 
ter man of the two. 

Photo playwrights will note that the plot provides just 
the sort of situations that are demanded in silent acting. The 
action is swift and the story simple, although not new. Fur- 
thermore, the whole thing is timely. Just now the country 
is rent with charges and allegations of corruptness and 
crooked politics. That is what "The Insurgent Senator" por- 
trays. It is a political picture in every sense of the word. The 
story is not stretched. The .picture is void of long sub-titles, 
letters and explanatory stuff. It is not complicated by a series 
of unfamiliar scenes. It is a real photoplay. But so is "The 
Triumph of Honesty," which" is the reverse in structure. A 
synopsis is as follows: 


Leaving his consumptive wife with her child alone, and in pov- 
erty, Dave Dexter passes his time playing cards in the- "Silver Star" 
Saloon. His wife, seized with a choking cough, realizes that the 
end is at hand. She sends little Mary to the saloon for her father. 
She finds him in a dispute over cards. She steps between "Mexican 
Luke" and her father. Luke slinks back, shamed by the child. The 
father returns to his cabin, realizes his wife's condition, and has- 
tens out for help. The Mexican steals a cowboy's horse and rides 
towards Dexter's shack, seeking trouble, meeting Dexter going on 
his way for help. Dexter stops him and tells him of his wife's sick- 
ness and begs for the loan of the horse. The Mexican strikes Dex- 
ter with his whip. Driven to desperation, Dexter pulls the Mexican 
off his horse, mounts and rides away leaving the Mexican swearing 

The cowboys miss the stolen horse and find the hatband from 
the Mexican's sombrero. They start after him. "Mexican Luke" 
visits the Sheriff and accuses Dexter of being the long-sought horse 
thief. The Sheriff and he ride hastily to Dexter's home and find 
him bending over the dead body of his wife. The Sheriff listens 
to the stricken man's story, but is forced to do his duty and places 
the handcuffs on him. Mary pleads with the stern Sheriff in vain. 
Tearfully the child produces her little bank and tries to bribe the 
Sheriff, adding to the offer her last and dearest treasure, her old 
rag doll. Touched by Dexter's story, the presence of death and the 
appeal of the motherless child, he forgets he is Sheriff and gives 
Dexter a chance to escape. He declines it. The Shriff is about to 
replace the handcuffs, when the cowboys, on the trail of the horse 
thief, crowd into the cabin. The Sheriff silences them, telling them 
they are in the presence of death. With uncovered head, the leader 
proves the innocence of Dexter by producing the missing hatband 
and pointing to the Mexican's sombrero. "Mexican Luke" is led 
away by the Sheriff and the cowboys, leaving Dexter and his little 
daughter alone with their dead. 

There is a plot and counter-plot in this story. Notice 
how the author introduces "Mexican Luke" in the saloon so he 
may use him later. The plot reads like it is very complicated, 
but if you will visualize the story you will see that it gets over 
with very few sub-titles and perfectly simple. Also^ Hie 
author utilizes all the types of Western characters with which 
we are familiar. True, it is not a really big sensational photo- 
play, but one with interest qualities, in that the story is good 
and keeps the audience guessing. 

Both "The Insurgent Senator" and "The Triumph of 
Eight" are action photoplays, and action is what is wanted. 
They are built so as to permit silent acting, aside from being 
novel in conception and truthfully told. 



In this department we will publish, each month, the 
names and addresses of the motion picture manufacturers who 
are in the market for playscripts, together with such other in- 
formation as we may deem of value to the photo playwright. 

CHAMPION FILM MFG. Co., 12 East 15th St., New York, N. 

Historical and military subjects. Good Western stories in de- 
mand. Stuff must be original. Likes to have a first reading 
on scripts . 

AMERICAN FILM MFG. Co., Bank Floor, Ashland Block, 
Chicago, 111. 

Desires original stories dealing with society. Good comedies 
desired. Stuff must have heart interest and be strong and 

CRYSTAL FILM CO., Wendover and Park Aves., New York, 
N. Y. 

Desires good dramas and comedies. No Western stuff wanted. 
This is a new company which is anxious to make a showing, 
censequently will pay good for every day life dramas. 

VICTOR FILM CO., No. 1 Union Square, New York, N. Y. 

Comedies and society dramas suited to the work of Miss Flor- 
ence Lawrence ,who was formerly with the Lubin Company. 

GEM MOTION PICTURE CO., No. 1 Union Square, New 
York, N. Y. 

Tear compelling dramas and good comedies will be pur- 

COMET MOTION PICTURE CO., 334 E. 32nd St., New York, 
N. Y. 

Dramas and comedies will be considered. Do not submit 
Western stories. 

Edendale, Los Angeles, Cal. 

Strong Western drama, historic, military and straight comedy 
for single reels. Highest prices and prompt consideration. 
Also uses stuff for two reel production if built on same themes, 
except comedy. 

NESTOR STUDIO, Sunset Blvd., and Gower St., Hollywood, 
Nothing wanted at present. 

Locust Ave., Brooklyn, N. Y. 
Short, crisp, modern," five hundred foot comedies, or farce 


comedies, are more in demand than anything else. Also 
strong original dramas, leading up to, if possible ,one tense 
scene, which will keep the audience breathless. Prompt con- 
sideration of scripts. Pay is good. 

LUBIN MANUFACTURING CO., Indiana Ave., Philadelphia, 

Strong original society dramas, those containing heart inter- 
est mostly desired, also comedies which have plenty of real 
live humor. The essential thing is originality of theme, no 
matter in what environment it is worked out. Western studio 
is located at 162 5 Fleming St., Los Angeles, Cal., where West- 
ern and Spanish stories should be submitted. Prompt con- 
sideration and good pay. 

RELIANCE STUDIO, 540 West 21st St., New York, N. Y. 

Intense emotional stories of American life, replete with strong 
vital dramatic situations. Novelty and originality in both 
theme and situation are requisite factors to be considered. Can 
also use good clean cut comedies for split and full reels. Name 
of author is placed on the film. Immediate consideration 
given all manuscripts and excellent pay for the exceptional 

BIOGRAPH COMPANY, 11 East 14th St., New York, N. Y. 

Do not send any scripts to New York company. Western 
studio is located at Los Angeles ,Pico and Georgia Sts., which 
company is offering to buy good half reel comedies, but the 
material must be good. Two weeks is required for consider- 

THOMAS A. EDISON, INC., 2826 Decatur Ave., Bedford 
Park, New York, N. Y. 

Desires scripts detailing quick action comedy. Comedy dramas 
are acceptable. Strong and appealing dramas of American 
life are also desired, but they must have an exceptionally 
strong climax. Historic incidents are available. Do not try 
to put something over on this company for they are prepared 
to nail you. Name of author is placed on film, advertising 
poster, bulletins, etc. Good pay. 

G. MELIES CO., Santa Paula, California. 

Western comedies and dramas are acceptable. Dramas must 
permit the big scene. Eliminate the triangle — (the wife who 
has a lover) — in your dramas. Good stuff with heart interest 
and opportunities for Western acting preferred. No blood 
and thunder will get by. Be original. Good pay and prompt 

PATHE FRERES, 1-3-5 Congress St., Jersey City Heights, 


Buying intense emotional and heart interest dramas which 
call for American atmosphere. Comedies purchased now and 
then. All material for Western Co. is prepared by their own 
staff. Two weeks required for consideration. 


THANHOUSEK CO., New Kochelle, N. Y. 
Nothing wanted at present. 

IMP FILMS CO., 102 West 101st St., New York City, N. Y. 
Mail your scripts to this address: Imp Scenario Editor, 515 
West 56th St., New York City. They will consider historical 
and Biblical plots, also comedies and human interest stuff 
with big climax. The Imp Company's Western studio is lo- 
cated at 309 Delta Bldg., Los Angeles, Cal. ,where they also 
buy scripts calling for four leading characters and few in- 
terior scenes. Fifteen to twenty days required to consider 

ECLAIR FILM CO., Linwood Ave., Fort Lee, N. J. 

Their scenario editor says: "We desire scenarios with short 
cast, of quick action comedy, strong drama, historic inci- 
dents, and stories of typical American life. Manuscripts will 
be given prompt consideration." 

SELIG POLYSCOPE CO., 20 East .Randolph St., Chicago, 111. 
Most of the photoplays produced by this company are prepared 
by the regular scenario staff maintained. However, comedies 
will sell, also good dramas. They are very exacting, conse- 
quently buy very few manuscripts. 

KALEM COMPANY, 235 239 West 23rd St., New York, N. Y. 
Dramas of business life are wanted — ones with novel situa- 
tions and gripping story permitting a solar plexus climax. His- 
torical themes will also be considered. 

SOLAX COMPANY, Flushing, N. Y. 

Refined comedies are wanted — ones that will permit Billy 
Quirk to assume chief role. Spectacular dramas — ones with 
gripping and novel plot, will be considered. Now and then 
will use mystery stories. Require from ten to fifteen days 
to consider script. Pay is average. 

liEX MOTION PICTUKE MFG. CO., 573-79 Eleventh Ave., 
New York, N. Y. 

You must see a "Rex" photoplay to know what to prepare for 
this concern. We say: Marion Leonard dramas are desired. 
The big emotional human life story with intense scenes and 
heart gripping theme is desirable. Their stories almost bor- 
der on melo-drama. 

REPUBLIC FILM CO., 145 West 45th St., New York, N. Y. 
Plots calling for strong, vital dramatic situations are desired 
by this company. The story must be unusual. 

ESSANAY FILM MFG. CO., 1315-1333 Argvle St., Chicago, 

Good comedies, with plenty of laughs. Of course lots of 
laughs make good comedies. Dramas with lots of heart in- 
terest will be considered. No Western stuff wanted. 


MAJESTIC MOTION PICTUKE CO., 145 West 45th St., New 
York, N. Y. 

High class comedies are wanted. Stuff must be original and 
produce the laughs. Make your stories suited to the work 
of Herbert Prior and Mabel Trunnelle, the laugh-smiths of the 
Majestic plant. 

POWERS MOTION PICTURE CO., 416 to 422 W. 216th St., 
New York, N. Y. 
See statement of scenario contest elsewhere in this issue. 

Temple St., Los Angeles, Cal. 

The big ideas are the sort this company wants. The unusual 
sore of story; although it must not be too stupendous as to 
demand too great an outlay of money. See statement else- 

The photo playwright will remember to always mail his 
scripts to the Scenario Editor. Do not address your envelope 
plain as is given in the foregoing list. Add the words SCEN- 
prevent your scripts from going to the business office first. In 
this way you will receive speedier attention. 


"I thank you very much for the two free copies you sent 
me of your magazine. I have recommended it to some budding 
playwrights as infinitely superior to the correspondence courses 
offered. I usually read it through twice before I lay it down, 
and then sigh for more !" — Harriet Guthrie Lewis, author "The 
Cry of The Children." — Thanhouser. 



Don't do it! It is an abomination! Scenario editors get 
fighting mad when they find that kind of stuff. Anyhow, it's 
old. Of course all of this is about dream photoplays. A few 
days ago the writer asked an editor about a dream idea and 
was promptly told to forget it. Since we come to think about 
it he is about right. Don't send dream photoplays — don't 
dream that your last scenario has sold — don't have anything to 
do with dreams. Work. 



Nine- tenths, and probably more, of the struggling writers of 
the United States of to-day have turned within the past few 
years, more or less hopefully, to the growing moving picture 
field and have said to themselves: "Here, perchance, I may 
hnd reward, if not recognition," And because struggling 
writers have to consider material things, the majority have 
been able to regard with equanimity the prospect of their work 
being unrecognized, save by the editor on whose recognition it 
may depend for the necessary check which the S. W. is willing 
to take in lieu of credit for his work from the playgoing pub- 
lic. Some of those who started out so hopefully have fallen by 
the way; others are still toiling along the narrow path which 
may lead, if not to success, to checks; while still others have 
aetiually arrived and have found that their glorious dream of 
being able to make a living by the pen, has changed to a grand 

When a young man or a young woman turns to authorship 
the term as used here meaning the writing of books, short 
stories, verse, special articles or any kind of hack writing, he or 
she realizes that the ultimate fate of the undertaking lies in the 
hands of the editors to whom the work shall be submitted. In 
this particular he who takes up scenario writing differs not 
one whit from he who begins to write short stories. The editor 
is the man who can make him or mar him, and probably "all 
editors will look alike to him." But if he has first tried the 
short story writing, and has then switched off to scenarios, he 
will tell you that there is a difference. The training which 
goes to make a successful judge of scenarios must differ from 
that which goes to make the successful magazine editor, judg- 
ing by the finished product. The scenario editor at this ttme 
is more approachable. It may be that this approachableness is 
only temporary and that, when the field of scenario writers is 
as overcrowded as that of magazine writers, scenario editors 
will entrench themselves behind barriers, well nigh unsur- 
mountable and so formidable that only the most courageous 
will dare to storm them. Let us be thankful, friends, that we 
are in the ranks of the noble army of scenario writers now, 
rather at the time predicted (if it ever arrives). 

The scenario editor, as has been intimated, seems to treat 
the novice with more charity and leniency than does the mag- 
azine editor. His manner of refusal is not so curt. He does 


not consider it beneath his dignity sometimes to point out 
where a writer has failed. If he reads a scenario and 
it has promise he has actually been known to imform the writ- 
er of that fact and sometimes even to go so far as to show him 
what particular feature is lacking which, if there, would make 
the declined scenario available. He makes suggestions, some- 
limes taking the time to write them, but more often by means 
of a printed slip wihch he sends to those whose work he consid- 
ers promising, when he returns it because it is not exactly up 
to his standard. You can imagine how pleasantly this method 
of declination strikes the writer who has been accustomed to 
receive from the magazine editor the stereotyued rejection 
slip with not a word of comment or encouragement, and not 
a particle of difference between the slip sent to the writer 
whose work is hopelessly bad, and that sent to the one who la- 
ter is able to place the same work in a more important publi- 
cation, perhaps. 

One film manufacturer has an editor who deserves the big- 
gest kind of credit for his way of helping young writers, or old 
writers new to the business of scenario writing, along the hard 
path they have to travel. This editor sometimes declines with 
a regulation excuse; that is, I have reason to believe, when the 
story declined has nothing in it which seems to the editor to 
give promise of better work in the future. If he gets hold of 
one which is well written, which shows that the writer has the 
right idea and with a little coaching may be able to express it 
acceptably, he sends with the returned scenario a printed sheet. 
The sheet begins with a brief note stating that the scenario is 
not available for the use of that particular company, for the 
reason checked off below. It add "this does not necessarily im- 
ply lack of merit, as your story indicates talent for writing, 
and we trust you will not grow discouraged, but will continue 
submitting work to us which we will be pleased to consider, 
and to which we will give our most careful attention." 

How's that for a declination? To the disappointed author 
does it not mean a store of fresh courage? Then, again, the 
list of "reasons" which follow the introductory note, checked 
to show in just what the scenario errs, are perhaps the very 
best guide a novice could have, which will show him how to 
steer clear of the things this editor does not want, and how to 
get in the things which he does. There are seventeen of the 
reasons and they run the whole gamut. The first one "not 
available for present use" covers perhaps a multitude of sins, 
but the others are practical and specific, as follows : 


"Not sufficient humor for a comedy. Requires environment 
which would necessitate too much expense to stage correctly. 
Would fail to pass the National Board of Censorship. Identi- 
cal to magazine story. Similar theme used before. Could be 
used for magazine story, but would fail to 'get over' in a pic- 
ture. Indian stories not required. Not sufficient action in 
theme. Too conventional. Too small a cast to make interest- 
ing picture. Too melodramatic. Not in proper scenario form. 
Plot not strong enough. Too immoral. Too unpleasant. Too 

What could be more satisfactory to the writer than that? 
If there is anything, I have not jet come across it. The writer 
whose scenario comes back with one of these printed sheets 
will, of course, feel a pang of regret for his rejected work, but 
the worst of it will be lost in the interest which this way of 
showing him his mistakes will arouse. More power to the man 
who devised this way of being kind to scenario writers. Would 
there were more like him. 

Another well known company prints on the back of its 
declination slips two guides which are useful to the novice, 
first a brief synopsis of "What We Like," and the other a brief 
outline of "We Don't Want," ending up with a few words de- 
scribing clearly how the manuscript should be prepared. This 
company, by the way, issues a neat pamphlet on "How to Write 
a Photoplay," and sends it willingly to any one requesting it, 
and enclosing a stamped envelope for its return. The pamphlet 
is a splendid guide for beginners, and contains some points 
which are of value to trained writers, especially to those whom 
success has made a trifle careless, perhaps. 

Right here, I want to say that while there may be careless 
scenario editors, I for one have had no fault to find in this re- 
spect, so far. I try to prepare a manuscript so that it appeals 
to the editor by its tidiness and correctness as well as by its 
literary merit (if it has any). I believe that the synopsis, at 
least, of every scenario is read in every office to which it is 
sent, and I am sure that responsible people do not make a prac- 
tice of defacing manuscript just for the sake of giving the au- 
thor a job at recopying. So far I have not had to recopy ex- 
cept in cases where a fault has been pointed out to me, which 
by recopying I have been able to eliminate. 

And what about the scenarios which do not "come back?" 
What joy there is in the thin envelope rather than in the fat 
one. If it is only a notice that scenario has been received and 
will be duly considered, it brings some meed of satisfaction. 


If it is an acceptance, and a "promise to pay/' there is a thrill 
of real pleasure. If it is a check — but why say anything about 
that. You scenario writers do not need to be told what that 
means. Perhaps you had counted on getting $15 and only get 
#10. But the small disappointment is swallowed up in the gen- 
eral gladness that it is a check and not a returned manuscript. 

So, if you have ''arrived," if you get more checks than 
declinations, and if you are firmly convinced that you can 
write scenarios and that some time you are going to write one 
which will make you famous, isn't what has been said in the 
foregoing article nearly true, as judged by your personal ex- 
perience. Don't you owe something to the helpful editors? 
Don't you believe that they mean well by you? And don't you 
feel glad that you are a scenario, rather than a short story 
writer? To be sure you do not see your name on the printed 
page. But, by and by, and it is not going to eb a very long 
by and by either, when you write a corking good scenario, your 
name is going to appear before an audience larger by many 
times than the roster of readers of even the Saturday Evening 
Post, or the Ladies' Home Journal. And about that time, edi- 
tors will begin bidding for your work, knowing that your name 
on a film will mean " Success" spelled with a big S. 

And then, dear writer, right then, you will begin to reap 
the material rewards. When the time comes that film com- 
panies feel that they must have your name on their film, once 
in ever so long, they will "fish" for you, and they will fish with 
a golden bait. And make believe you won't bite. — Helen Mer- 
ritt in "Moving Picture World." 


Many of our readers have written us relative to the article 
in last month's issue by Mr. W. Hanson Durham, and ask for 
more. As to Mr. Durham's work, we advise you to see "Half 
A Hero," a Vitagraph comedy drama which will soon be ex- 
hibited at your theater. It is a Costello picture and should be 
of interest in more ways than one. 

Note how Mr. Durham builds his plot. Study the sub- 
titles. In other words, study the photoplay as a whole. This 
will give you an idea of photoplay technique as Mr. Durham 
uses it. Next thing — get an idea that is original. Then — "Go 
thou and do likewise." 



The Powers Motion Picture Company, 422 West 216th St., 
New York City, offers $250.00 to be competed for by photo 
playwrights who may wish to submit their efforts in the prize 
contest now open. The following awards will be given : 
$100.00, |75.00, |50.00 and $25.00 for first, second, third and 
fourth best photoplay ideas submitted. The contest will close 
on July 15th, 1912, and all manuscripts will be held until July 
20th, 1912, when they will be passed upon by a committee of 
photoplay experts. 

The Powers company states that both comedy and drama 
arrangements will be considered. Rules of the contest are as 
follows: All manuscripts must be typewritten, accompanied 
by self addressed envelope with return charges paid and must 
be plainly labeled, "contest," othewise they will be treated as 
regular contributions. 

Mr. C. B. Hoadley, editor of playscripts for the Powers 
company, will conduct the contest and states that the names 
of all successful authors will be placed on the announcement 
title of the film. All meritorious scripts entered will be pur- 
chased at the highest market price commensurate with their 
worth. All communications relative to this contest should be 
addressed to Mr. C. B. Hoadley at the above address. 
"All the world's a stage ;" 
And so it was in Shakespeare's age. 
If he could be here now, he'd say, 
"The world is all a Photoplay." 


"The Scenario Magazine," a sixteen page magazine for the 
script writer, contains in its May issue, a very interesting ar- 
ticle relative to the Pacific Motion Picture Co., of Los Angeles, 
Cal. We have not had sufficient time to get a report on this 
company, so we print the statement as given by our contempor- 
ary, which is as follows : 

The Pacific Motion Picture Company, Lake Shore Avenue and 
Temple Street, Los Angeles, California, writes us that their com- 
pany aims to be in film manufacturing what the Philistine of the 
Roycrofters is in the book world, viz., the parent of unique and 
original ideas. They are trying to keep away from the beaten 

They desire scenarios from men and women with original ideas 
regardless of reputation in this business. They aim to give their 
authors what few other companies have yet done — credit for what 


they have done by inserting their names as authors on their titles, 
also compensation commensurate with their ideas. They do not 
buy ideas outright. Their method is to take them on royalty. They 
pay five dollars per print, and when they have sold all they can, 
the plot reverts back to the author, who can use it for a play or 
sketch of available for such. 

By this plan The Pacific Moving Picture Company hopes to at- 
tract to their office, scenarios from those great geniuses in plot and 
intrigue that have heretofore considered the motion picture busi- 
ness too trivial for their consideration. This company claims that 
they have now an order for sixty prints on one of their recent pic- 
tures, which is a state right proposition. At the rate of $5 per 
print, this method will net the author $300, and he still retains his 

Mr. W. H. Clifford, president of the company, further adds that 


Just as we go to press we receive the following 
from Mr. Richard V. Spencer, of the Bison Pacific 
Coast Studio: 

"Have been so rushed with work recently that I 
could not find time to drop you a few lines of ap- 
preciation for your kind mention of me in the May 
number of The Photo Playwright. The magazine is 
improving rapidly. Note some very interesting 
'dope' in the May number. Great ! Keep it up. You 
are on the right track. 

"Have distributed locally all the sample numbers 
of the magazine you were so kind as to send me. 
Could use some more cold copies if you have any to 

"Also beg to inform you that you can inform your 
readers that we are now in the market for SPLIT- 
REEL DRAMATIC COMEDY, in addition to other 
types of stories previously mentioned. Will soon b« 
supplying five directors with stories, and want au- 
thors to come to my rescue with big stuff, good stuff, 
and lots of it. The check book is open for the right 
kind of plots, and ink is plentiful, so TELL THEM 



This department is for the answering of questions pertaining 
to the photoplay, and which are of general interest. We will en- 
deavor to make this department just as interesting as possible, giv- 
ing the correct answers to all questions asked. Do not hesitate to 
write us if there is anything you care to know. If you are in a hur- 
ry for a reply, enclose a stamped and self-addressed envelope for 
answer by mail. A stamp alone does not entitle a questioner to a 
reply, nor will one be given. Give your name and address as evi- 
dence of good faith. We will not use your name. 

MRS. WALKER, CHICAGO. — Avoid writing photoplays from 
stage plays as Monte Cristo and Cinderella. Such work is called 
adapting. When adaptions are wanted the scenario staff of the 
company can make much better scripts than the beginner. Cinder- 
ella was produced in three reels by Selig of Chicago over six months 
ago, therefore it is out of the question. As to your first script — 
send it out again. If it fails to prove acceptable, work it up more 
in a dramatic way, which means that you should provide more de- 
tail in your scenes, also providing the sub-titles and inserts. 

BARNETT, DU QUOIN. — Your synopsis and cast of characters 
should be arranged so as to give the script reader an idea of the 
principals without stating the age. Now and then it is a good idea 
to state the age. No, don't state the color of the hair, he height, 
etc. Punctuation doesn't figure in a photoplay script. Just write 
readable stuff, making your idea clear and to the point. See the 
article, "Ten Things I Would Tell a Beginner," by Mrs. Breuil in 
this issue. When we submit a script for a writer, our name is giv- 
en as agents for the author, the author's name being given. Al- 
ways double space your matter. Do not use quotation marks on the 
synopsis. In our book we use them because the synopsis was writ- 
ten by a scenario editor and we desired to show that it was not or- 
iginal with us. 1 



Photo playwrights ask us almost every day as to what sort 
of ideas are wanted — comedy or drama. These inquirers add, 
"which will bring the most money?" 

On this subject, Kobert Grau, writing for the "Motion 
Picture Story Magazine," says: 

"There seems to be a considerable conflict among the potent 
figures of the film industry as to the preference the patrons of the 
photoplay theater have for comedy, the majority stating that there 
are not enough laughter-provoking pictures. 

"To discuss this all-important phase of the moving picture, one 
must naturally turn to the stage for data, in order that such a prob- 
lem may be fairly solved ,and there is nothing to indicate that the 
playgoers of modern times have been attracted to the playhouse 
through comedy offerings, as they are to see and hear plays and 
players, and songs and singers, of a more serious character. More- 
over ,all the great records achieved in the amusement field indicate 


a trend of public taste for the dramatic rather than for plays of a 
farcial order. 

" 'Ben Hur' has been before the public for twelve years; it has 
made a million for the producers, and there is almost a total lack 
of comedy in the portrayal of this epochal play. The most potent 
plays at the present time are nearly all serious: 'The Return of 
Baron de Grim;' 'Madame X;' 'The Littlest Rebel;' 'The Music Mas- 
ter;' 'The Garden of Allah," and 'The Price' have attracted solely 
for tear-making qualities. 

"Closer to moving picture requirements, a study of vaudeville 
records, shows that the most enduring playlets were such offerings 
as 'The Littlest Girl;' 'A Man of Honor;' 'A Romance of the Under- 
world;' 'Frederic Lemaitre' (in which Henry Miller enthralled 
vaudeville audiences), and only a few years ago Blanche Walsh 
held an audience spellbound in a one-act play that had not even 
•a smile in it. 

" 'The Woman,' a Belasco success, draws large audiences with- 
out a star, because of the one compelling serious scene. 'A Fool 
There Was' is considered the best 'repeater' of modern plays, while 
Mrs. Leslie Carter has once more held her enormous clientele stead- 
fast with 'Two Women,' a play without a single comedy line. 

"Shakespeare's tragedies always draw ;his comedies are rarely 

Comic opera has always spelled bankruptcy for the managers 
who would tempt fate with them, while grand opera at the Metro- 
politan Opera House draws an average of $70,000 a week, at $6 a 

"No comic song ever had the vogue of such plaintive ballads 
as "The Last Rose of Summer;' 'Home Sweet Home,' and 'After 
the Ball,' all tear compelling. 

"Even pantomime had its greatest vogue with 'Un Enfant Pro- 
digue,' a veritable tragic poem without words. 

"No one will deny that the vogue of the silent drama is what 
it is, greatly, because such worthy film producers as the Vitagraph, 
Kalem, Biograph, Edison and others have realized that to cater to 
the patronage most desired, they must emulate the methods of the 
highest grade of producers of the stage, and they also are aware of 
of the fact that the technique and philosophy of the silent drama 
is such that they are enabled to score even greater triumphs than 
the Frohmans and the Klaw and Erlangers, for the stage has its 
limitations, whereas the Motion Picture play is greatly enhanced 
by the verity and realism of nature's own vast resources!" 

It really doesn't matter whether yours is a comedy plot or 
otherwise — the essential thing is the idea. Tf your plot is good 
enough for picture production it will be acceptable, although 
more serious plays are now being produced than comedies. 



(By Bannister Merwin.) 

The present condition of photoplay production requires 
analysis. And though the analysis I wish to make is carried 
out from the viewpoint of the writer of photoplays, the con- 
clusions reached will be as important to the film manufacturer 
as they are to the photo playwright. 

The determining elements of The motion-picture business 
today are the film manufacturers and the public that patron- 
izes the photoplay theaters. 

Up to the present time the public has been so much un- 
der the spell of the novelty of this new form of entertainment 
that it has not developed much discrimination as to film qual- 
ity. The film manufacturers have been able to put on the 
market about anything they pleased — excepting where there 
appears to be a transgression of morality — to put on what 
they pleased with an almost complete confidence in the avidity 
of the market. 

But the ultimate success of the business absolutely depends 
upon that public discrimination whic his certain to develop — 
which has already begun to develop as the novelty of the en- 
tertainment wears off. The public is bound to discriminate 
between good productions and poor ones. The time is not far 
off when the photoplay theaters will measure their success by 
the quality of their programs. The first step will be the spe- 
cial attention of the public to the productions of those film 
companies which are to be recognized as putting out the best 
films. When this discrimination becomes marked, the photo- 
play theaters will reflect the condition by demanding of the 
sales agents such films as will satisfy their audiences. No guar- 
anteed market will last very long after this situation arises. It 
can't. Under such conditions the continued operation of a 
guaranteed market would simply put the photoplay theaters 
out of business. There would be no more golden eggs. The 
goose would stop laying. 


I feel sure that I am right, then, in saying that the future 
of the motion-picture business will depend on film quality. 

How are the film manufacturers going to be able to insure 
the improved film quality that will meet the demands of ihe 
developing public taste? 

By better photography? In a certain degree. In the age 
of aeroplanes and wireless I, for one, will not deny the possi- 
bility of perfect sterescopic motion pictures in natural colors. 

By developing the art of acting? Also in a degree. We 
have seen what progress has been made in a few years in the 
development of an acting technique that is natural and con- 
vincing and intelligible on the screen. Your photoplay actor # 
no longer finds it necessary to point to his stomach to show 
that he is hungry. He can get his hunger to the screen by the 
manner in which he looks at a chunk of bread. 

These two developments are coming naturally. They are 
invaluable. But they will not, in themselves, hold the ulti- 
mate public — the public that is already tired of "trick films." 

No, the real future of the business absolutely depends up 
on the development of the art of writing photoplays. With- 
out this art the business, as a provider of entertainment for 
the people, will vanish into shadow. 

Two considerations have hitherto hampered the develop 
ment of the photo playwright. The first is the prevalence of 
the method by which the film company purchases the bald idea 
and leaves it to the producer to carry that idea out. The 
second consideration is a corollary to the first: it is the ab- 
surdly low prices that the film companies have paid for so- 
called "scenarios." 

With the work of the producer 1 have no quarrel. He has 
been doing what the business has superficially appeared to de- 
mand — what the men in control of the companies have expected 
him to do. But the conditions have, to say the least, really hin- 
dered the development of his own true function — the function 
of interpretation. 

Suppose Pinero were to offer "The Second Mrs. Tanquer- 
ay" to a theatrical firm in the form of a three hundred word 
outline, and leave it to the firm's stage manager to do the rest. 
Might we not be justified in thinking that too much of a bur- 
den was being placed on the stage manager? Is it not a full 
tax on his abilities to stage well the play that Pinero has writ- 


The analogue holds. A photoplay producer may be a 
photo playwright as well as a producer. He may even produce 
his own photoplays. But to require of him to write other peo- 
ple's photoplays for them — putting it mildly, isn't it asking too 
much of him? 

Of course, as far as the present moment is concerned, the 
answer is that we have no trained photo playwrights. The most 
successful ones are, after all, only learning. 

But there is just the point. It is up to the film-producing 
comapnies now — today — to begin to encourage the training of 
photo playwrights — men who can conceive and elaborate with 
full detail strong, human, convincing stories for the screen : 
men who are trained writers and know how to give to a group 
of characters the touches that mean life; men who have the in- 
stincts for dramatic values ; men who can put a punch into 
what they write; men who have taste and judgment an dare 
not raw melodramatists. With the development of such pho- 
to playwrights, the future of the business will be assured. 

How can this development be begun? By paying good 
prices for good work. Nothing else will draw trained writers 
into the work. It's worth considering, Mr. Film Manufac- 
turer. You are making a business success with an embryo art. 
For your own future interest, it is up to you to help that art 
to grow. The more difficult it may seem to develop these new 
artists, the more strenuously should you endeavor to develop 

Another thing. Almost every live, popular magazine em- 
ploys a man whose principle job is that of editorial impresario. 
His most important work is to find promising writers. He 
travels a thousand miles sometimes just to see a-man or woman 
— perhaps a beginner — whose first attempts at writing show 
that he may develop into a better than average writer. And 
if the good promise of that first work seems sufficient, the edi- 
tors encourage that writer in every possible way. They ad- 
vise him as to what they think he is especially fitted by nature 
lo do for them. They give him elaborate and patient criticism. 
They increase their rates of payment to him as rapidly as his 


improvement justifies the increase. They nurse him along as 
something very precious indeed. 

Would it not be well for the big film companies to adopt 
like tactics? — From "Moving Picture World." 


"I am pleased to state at this writing that I have just dis- 
posed of another of my photoplays to the Melies Film Co., San- 
ta Paula, Cal., thanks to your little book, "The Photo Play- 
wright," for April which furnished information which led me 
to submit my script to that company. I expect to dispose of 
another of my scenarios this week and if so it will be due to 
the information contained in the May calendar of your pub- 
lication." — Elmer W. Eomine, Morristown, N .J. 


At least one criticism of motion pictures should appear in 
this column every month. On this occasion I must reluctant- 
ly admit that during the past thirty days I have seen at least 
a dozen photoplays that I did not understand. Assuming that 
I am of average intelligence, the conclusion is that at least a 
dozen scenario editors have been careless. I have also heard 
several others exclaim that certain plays were "pretty, and well 
done, but hard to understand." — Photoplay Philosopher in 
''Motion Picture Story Magazine." 

JUL iu jyu v 






Special Articles 

Optimism vs. Realism 


Ten Things I Would Tell a Beginner 


What Moving Pictures Add to Life 


About The Universal 



JULY, 1912 

No. 4 

You should keep a systematic 
record of your scenarios 

|LL Scenario Editors insist that you keep a sys- 
tematic record of the manuscripts you may 
submit them, as well as a carbon copy of the 

If you do not keep a carbon copy, keep a record, by 
all means. You will not lose your scenario if you do. 
Mrs. Beta Breuil of the Vitagraph Company says she 
has a drawer full of photoplays for which she can find 
no owners. This will never happen if you keep a rec- 
ord of your scripts. 

You should have your scenario record book on your 
desk at all times. Have it ready for immediate refer- 

We are now printing 250 scenario record books. Each 
book contains 50 pages. It is just what you need to 
keep a systematic record of the travels of your scripts. 
While they last we will sell them to subscribers of 
this magazine for only 50 cents a copy. You had better 
send your order today, as we are printing only 250 
copies. Send money order. Stamps cannot be used. 

Boonville, Ind., U. S. A. 


Vol. 1 

JULY, 1912 

No. 4 

.Optimism vs. Realism 3 

Harriet Guthrie Lewis 

Ten Things I Would Telia Beginner 5 

Eustace Hale Ball 

About the Universal 6 

Originality 8 

H. Z. Levine 

Brass Tack Talks 10 

More About Scenes ., 13 

The Clearing House 14 

Random Notes 17 

Our Own Boquets 19 

The Photoplay Mart 20 

"Spectator's Advice" 24 

What Moving Pictures Add to Life 25 

Wm. Lightfoot Visscher 
From Our Contemporaries 29 


Copyright 1912 by 

The Photoplay Enterprise 


it is 




The Photo Playwright 

Devoted to the Interests of the Scenario Writer. 




Photoplay Rules 

N preparing your scenario, double space your 
matter and keep a duplicate. 

The best photoplays are those in which 
the action takes place in a few hours or 

Do not write on a subject with which you are not 
thoroughly familiar, and study the characteristics of the 
people you introduce into your story. 

It is a good rule to keep your cast down to the small- 
est possible number, but do not hesitate to use all the 
characters you may deem are absolutely necessary to 
carry out the necessary action. 

Watch closely and see to it that the characters perform 
the actions according to man's way of doing things. Do 
not incorporate an action which is not in keeping with 
precedent. Have your characters exit from one s^ene 
and then bring them in in the next scene. 

Arrange your scenes so that they will be easy to un- 

Be a keen student of moving pictures as you see them 
on the scree* in your favorite picture theater. You will 
be able to reason out the why and wherefore certain 
things are done. 

Do not deviate from your theme or the spectator may 
lose the thread of the plot. It is the "big idea" that you 
must carry out to a logical but surprising conclusion. 


Vol. I 

JULY, 1912J 

No. 4 

Optimism vs. Realism 

By Harriet Guthrie Lewis, Author "The Cry of the Children, 
Outcast/' "Out of the Dark," etc. 


HERE is a marked tendency in the majority of photo 
plays, whether the script has been prepared entirely by 
its author or rearranged by the editor, to bring about 
"the usual happy ending." I think there is a mistaken 
idea that this result is desired by the general public. It can be 
truthfully said that it has grown to be the accepted thing. It is 
not unusual to notice a restlessness exhibited toward the close of 
a photoplay sometimes terminating in the audience rising before 
the piece is well completed. THEY ARE SO SURE OF THE END- 
ING that the particular manner in which the plot is terminated 
does not interest them. The more critical patrons form the greater 
percentage of this class. The small boy who wants his money's 
worth and the uncritical person who has "dropped in to pass the 
time away usually remain until the lights go up for the intermis- 
sion. On the other hand, what real art of the writer or editor is 
shown so to keep the audience wrought up to that pitch of expec- 
tancy which will be satisfied with naught but a finale in keeping 
with the originality of the plot as gradually developed! 

If your play is strong and vital, containing situations which 
grip your own heart-strings, if you are trying to pass on some 
lesson which has appealed to you, do not try to please any one but 
that one who should be your most exacting critic, YOURSELF. 

One does not need to have a scene portraying the death of a 
character to make a play appealing through its realism. DEATH 
is not so pathetic; it is the expectation of the agony of departure 


or separation, the aching void afterward, which represent the ex- 
tremes of sorrow. And there are so many situations in LIFE that 
are infinitely more thrilling, gripping a hold on that part of your 
nature which only God and your mother know, and sometimes, 
when they are so unfortunate, your wife and children. 

This constant portrayal of death, too, while harrowing in the 
extreme, seems not strictly decent to the more discriminating of 
us, unless it be absolutely essential to the strength of the plot. 

LIFE, with its complexities and problems, be they faced in 
the high or the low places of the earth, is what the thinking public 
wants. They want the portrayal of life's experiences, deducted 
reasonably, to help them to face similar situations or to endure 
those in which they are placed. 

One does not need to be morbid or fantastic to be realistic. 
When a happy ending follows naturally the working out of your 
plot, that is realism. 

side line, leading to NOWHERE. The worst Pessimists I have 
ever known were those who had for running mates the hopeless 


"What's the plot of your new play, Broadway Jones?" queried 
a friend of George M. Cohan the other day. 

"A young man from the country comes to New York and then 
goes home again," answered the droopy-eyed author-actor. 

"Gee! Can you string that little thread into a regular play?" 
questioned the inquisitive one. 

"Sure," answered Cohan. "You see, the young man from the 
country is looking for a situation. He doesn't find it, but I do. 
Hence the play." — Dramatic Mirror. 


Mr. Thorvald Solberg, Register of copyrights, who is genuinely 
interested in the matter of copyright privileges for photoplay, de- 
spite the belief of some to the contrary, sends a copy of the amended 
Townsend bill, in which a new class is provided for "Motion Picture 
Photoplays," and another for "Motion Pictures Other Than Photo- 
plays." Under the former classification the infringing producer 
may be penalized one dollar for every infringing copy. 

It will be noted that the wording of this bill recognizes photo- 
play as the proper title for a script for the making of a motion pic- 
ture. We are glad to see that this position is taken. The photo- 
piaywright has a splendid friend at court in Mr. Solberg. — From 
Moving Picture World. 

Ten Things I Would Tell a 

By EUSTACE HALE BALL, Scenario Editor, 
The Eclair Company 

YPE WRITE your scenario on good paper, 8% by 11 in- 
ches. Use a fresh typewriter ribbon so the printing will 
be plain. When submitting your script, enclose a 
stamped and addressed envelope. Never send loose 
stamps. It is hard work to address and stamp envelopes 
for a bunch of manuscripts. 

2. Send complete scenarios — not single page sketches. If 
you expect to get money in return, give the film company something 
worth while. Write out the scene plot, give the captions or inserts, 
indicate the settings and mention the costumes and the various 
characters. Seven or eight lines should be sufficient to tell the 
scene action. 

3. Too many scenes spoil the pie. Never use more than twen- 
ty-five or thirty, and this number will be trimmed at the studio. 
Remember — if your story calls for an elaborate scene, it should be 
used in the story several times to justify the expenditure and time 
for arranging the scene. 

4. For general "speculation writing," small castes are desir- 
able. Simple settings are needed. m When great spectacles are 
needed the film company will hire the experts to arrange the scenes. 

5. To transcribe the masterpieces and the classics is a waste 
of time. .The studios producing this sort of stuff order such adap- 
tions from their own staff of special writers. 

6. You will save the director many heart aches by leaving 
knife play, shooting in the back, arson, abduction of children, etc., 
entirely out of the story. Such stories won't pass. 

7. Eliminate drinking, dissolute women, religious subjects, 
and other trite ideas from your scenarios. 

8. Avoid writing letters to the film companies offering to sell 
the "true" story of your life, or somebody else's life. Write out a 
complete scenario from your idea and then submit the scenario. The 
big film companies are too busy to establish correspondence schools. 

9. Eliminate hot air. Never write an editor telling him how 
wonderful his company's work is, besides wishing him success and 
riches. (Who ever heard of a rich scenario editor?) The number 
of contributors who do this sort of thing is amazing — and amusing! 

10. Above all, study postal weights. Don't make the editors 
pay "postage due" on your contribution. You get in bad right at 
the jump. Don't send odd pennies or one cent stamps. They are 
of no avail with letter postage. It is either two cents or nothing 
when mailing a sealed letter. 

About The Universal 


ANY things of importance have taken place in the moving 
picture world of late that are of vital importance to the 
photo playwright. Probahly the formation of the Uni- 
versal Film Manufacturing Co., is of the greatest im- 

The interests of ten producing companies have been consoli- 
dated under one name and management. The personal barriers 
that have existed between these companies heretofore have been 
eliminated, and while the names of the brands of film will remain 
unchanged, the Universal policy will dominate. The following 
brands will be released under the Universal management: Imp, 
Gem, Powers, Rex, Victor, Nestor, Bison, Eclair, Champion and Re- 
public and the Ambrosia. All brands, with the exception of the 
Ambrosia, will be manufactured in the United States. 

The publicity representative of the Universal has the following 
to say regarding the production end of the business: 

"The production department has been placed upon a most 
unique basis, which, we believe, overcomes all obstacles heretofore 
perplexing motion picture producers. A scenario department has 
been established which will receive the manuscripts from the pho- 
to playwrights and give them careful consideration. Those selected 
will be paid for, the minimum price being $25.00 for a single reel 
and $15.00 for a short, or half reel photoplay script. 

"The selected scenarios will be distributed among the various 
directors, according to the nature of the subjects they have been 
accorded to produce." 

The Universal organization asks that all scenarios intended for 
any of the companies comprising their organization should be ad- 
dressed as follows: UNIVERSAL FILM MFG. CO., No. 1 Union 
Square, New York, N. Y., unless the script is intended for the west- 
ern companies when they should be sent to the following address: 
RICHARD V. SPENCER, Care of Bison Pacific Coast Studio, 1712 
Allesandro St., Edendale, Los Angeles, Cal. 

Under the new management Mr. Spencer will be supplying 
scripts to five directors, or in other words, to the directors of Imp, 
Bison, and Nestor productions. 

As a result of the formation of the Universal, a photo play- 
wright may submit his scenario to ten companies at one time. It 

surely will be a postage saver. But there will be attendant evils. 
If you send your manuscript to the Universal and it is rejected, do 
not send it to any of the companies which go to make up the per- 
sonnel of the Universal. You would be wasting good money and 
losing loss of time as the script has already been considered — when 
you submitted it to the Universal. 

While each producing company, with the exception of those in 
the West, has its own scenario editor, your script, if sent to the 
Universal, is considered by all of them. It is passed down the line 
until rejected by all. Then it comes back to you. The time for con- 
sidering the scenario will be longer than usual, but a photo play- 
wright should be content to wait. 

In its advertising the Universal states as follows: 

"We are in the market for high class scenarios, covering 
comedy, split and single reels, drama, sensational and western, one 
and two reels. The minimum price paid for a single reel scenario 
is $25.00, and for short, split reel scenarios, $15.00. If your scenario 
is not worth these amounts, do not submit it. Manuscripts should be 
typewritten and return postage enclosed." 

The photo playwright, if he has kept pace with the photoplay 
industry, will recognize the Universal organization as a distinctly 
Independent faction. Twenty-four reels of pictures will be released 
weekly, eighteen of which will be manufactured in the United 
States, consequently the ideas, rather, the scenarios, will be sup- 
plied by photo playwrights residing in the United States. 

Some photo playwrights will wonder what has become of the 
American, Reliance, Solax, Tanhouser and other Independent com- 
panies. These concerns will operate as they have in the past, each 
company buying its own senarios. 

Beginning this month we classify the Independent manufac- 
turers in our department, "The Photoplay Mart," giving only a state- 
ment of the sort of scripts wanted for the different brand sof films 
released by the Universal. Please note that the statements of the 
other independent companies remains unchanged as to addresses. 


Several correspondents have written to me, objecting to the 
substitution of the word Photoplay for the word scenario when re- 
ferring to the manuscript from which a Motion Picture play is made. 
The principal objection, in fact the only one, seems to be that there 
might be confusion in mistaking the play itself for the film pro- 
duction on the screen. I can see no real objection here. We call 
the manuscript of a drama a play; we speak of Shakespeare's plays; 
we go to the store and ask for one of French's plays; and at the 
same time we go to a play, or we have seen a play, or we have writ- 
ten a play. A Motion Picture manuscript that is generally called 
a scenario may properly be called a play, or a Motion Picture play, 
or a Photoplay. We prefer Photoplay to play because it distin- 
guishes; we prefer Photoplay to Motion Picture play because it is 
shorter and prettier." — By "The Photoplay Philosopher" in "The 
Motion Picture Story Magazine." 


By H, Z. LEVINE, Editor, "Solax Magnet" 

UNDREDS of scenarios are submitted to manufacturers 
and are rejected because they come under either one or 
all three of these general shortcoming's: lack of orig- 
inality, lack of technique and mediocrity, or impossibil- 
ity of subject matter. 

It is not easy to be original. Men or women with proved orig- 
inality are getting three and four figure salaries.. One has only to 
recall that there are only five or six basic causes of dramatic action 
and be convinced that original plots in drama are as rare as checks 
made to the order of Mr. Amateur. Still, manufacturers return 
manuscripts marked "unavailable because of a general lack of orig- 
inality." They insist on an original story in spite of the fact that 
an original plot is a rarity. Why? 

By an original story manufacturers do not mean something that 
is revolutionary. Something that will "set the world on fire." They 
want a new twist to the time-honored triangle, to quadrangle and 
other so-called angular plots. They prefer angles with a curve, if 
you please. In other words, they are cognizant of the fact that a 
plot cannot be totally original; original in the sense that nothing 
similar to it has been done before. To ask that would be asking 
the impossible. Manufacturers want the situations in the photo- 
plays submitted to have "character" or "personality," "individual- 
ity" and a distinguishing feature. 

There are millions of persons who inhabit this earth. They are 
all moved one way or another by certain causes of action. Some 
persons dominating trait is love, others ambition, others avarice or 
the getting of money, others sensuality and worldliness, and still 
others are moved by a religious fear of God. These are the chief 
basic causes of action. Every drama is worked out logically with 
one of these basic causes as the motif. 

Now, how then can one be original? We repeat that there are 
millions of persons who inhabit this earth. They are generally di- 
vided for geographical and economic reasons into big sub-divisions, 
and these sub-divisions gradually narrow down until we get to the 
individual. The individual has a personality, a character and a 
mind. We have as many "individuals" as there are "persons" on 
the face of this earth. The reason we are so careful in the differ- 
entiation between "person" and "individual" is because an indi- 


vidual is an isolating classification. It establishes the impression 
that each human being is different, has a different face, different 
character and acts differently when moved by the same "motif." 

Here is the secret of originality — the individual acting differ- 
ently when moved by the same motif. The clash of a number of 
individuals with a given motif is the nucleus of an original situation. 
Originality will depend on the handling of the individuals by the 
author in elucidating the plot. In other words, the imagination of 
the author should create and follow certain inclinations of his in- 
dividuals. When these inclinations cross an original situation will 
inevitably follow. 

This all holds true assuming that the author gives his char- 
acters individuality, and thus makes them act unlike other char- 
acters. Naturally, it is assumed that the author's imagination will 
not be permitted to work overtime and thus ereate an unreasonable 
or an unnatural individual or an enormity whose actions will not 
be convincing. One may go a little too far in trying to be original 
and forget that originality is not synonymous with improbability 
and impracticability. 

Authors who can observe and cannot imagine should watch in- 
dividuals who move in their own sphere. Study their characteristics.' 
Then make them clash with other individuals whom you know. 
Lead up logically with a series of characteristic incidents to a big 
climatic situation. In each scene or incident wherever individual 
meets individual make the characters true to their individuality. If 
the author is true to his individual he is certain to obtain original- 
ity, because as said and proved previously, no two individuals are 
alike, consequently they will not be alike in a clash of "motifs." — 
Prom "The Solax Magnet." 


In last month's "Photo Playwright" we told you about W. Han- 
son Durham buying a real automobile with the profits from scenario 
writing, but we are forced to acknowledge that there is one person 
who can go Mr. Durham one better. Just lisen to this (it is clipped 
from "The Motion Picture Story Magazine"): "Bannister Merwin 
who writes many of the Edison photoplays, has taken a cottage on 
the Thames for the summer. A cottage on the Thames is no more 
modest than the same thing at Newport. This one has eight bed- 
rooms, and other apartments to match." 

Oh, you lucky scribbler — scenario writer — photo playwright. 


Brass Tack Talks 

EOPLE want climax. Money, 

work, play and war taste good 
only as they supply needed cli- 

The boy who is playing out 
behind my house stops every once in a 
while and lets out a blood curdling yell, 
apropos of nothing at all. The little girl 
jumps up and down and screams. That is 
what they call fun. And it is the only kind of fun there is. 

Human nature is full of gunpowder. It must explode occasion- 

Man's progress is similar to that of an automobile, by a series 
of explosions. 

In primal days he went out and wrestled with bears. 
History is a series of wars. The dull populace enjoyed cutting 
one another's throats, "to relieve the pressure." 

It is the peril of risk that makes business attractive. It is the 
edge of ruin that keeps the gambler going. It is the climax of liv- 
ing that lures the drunkard. It is the ecstasy that thrills the saint. 
In formulating your excellent ideas for photoplays, don't for- 
get the dynamite in it. We must have climax. Make your story 

Thought, applied to your excellent photoplay idea, will not in- 
jure it and might change its very face and figure to the practical ad- 
vantage of the manufactuier as well as your balance at the bank. 

How many mis-spelled words and "balled-up" statements did 
you find in last month's (June) issue of "The Photo Playwright?" 
The editor found seventy-seven. 

Explanation — I am an ardent Roosevelt enthusiast. When the 
Roosevelt National Headquarters were moved from Washington 
to Chicago, I hurried to the windy city to assist in the organization 
of the Indiana Roosevelt forces. Consequently the greater part of 
the text matter was written from Chicago, and on hotel stationery. 

The type-setters just couldn't make it out. The proof reader 


just couldn't see the mistakes. Being frank, I think the printers did 
fine, hut then the old story was brought back to me: "If you want 
a thing done right, do it yourself." 

Trust me until you see this issue. If you find any errors, place 
the blame on my shoulders. 

The photo playwright who keeps up with the times, who thinks, 
reads, studies, adopts modern methods and uses good judgment, is 
the photo playwright who succeeds. I might add that he should 
read this magazine. 

"Tears — idle tears!" sang the poet. 

Yes, we all like to gasp, sob and cry. We like to have our 
emotions, tender though they may be, worked up by situations that 
will bring tears. We like to grieve. 

George Eliot, a great student of human nature, has written 
that people grow to wear grief like a hat, cocked to one side with 
a feather stuck in it. 

This is true of the picture patron. But it is not so easy to 
make these patrons weep as it is to make them laugh. Photo play- 
wrights who understand the nature of things strive to get telling 
situations — that is, to bring tears to the spectator in the makeup 
of the plot. There are fundamental things in human nature which, 
properly balanced in the drama, will bring tears to almost any sort 
of person. 

You may wonder what all of this is about. Just this. When 
you try to write a tear-compelling play, be sure to make tear-com- 
pelling situations. Don't leave this to the actor. Write your situa- 
tions into the script. 

With comedy — well, this is different. 

Speaking of human nature, my attention has been called to a 
recent eritorial in Collier's which reads as follows: 

"The facts about the strange acts of one exceptional human be- 
ing, provided they are stated with the proof, will ' be accepted, 
though they vary greatly from the reader's imagined picture of how 
a. human being under the circumstances would act. Truth, if sub- 
mitted with names and dates, will convince a thousand, no one of 
whom would be convinced by the same happening in a novel. The 
other day a man desirous of giving up $250 'conscience money' 
wrapped it in a package and left it in the street with a note pre- 
senting it to the first human being who happened to find it. The 
novelist would have to prepare for this very carefully to make it 
go. Fiction seldom dare be as strange as truth often is." 


Ah! An idea! Let some write a photoplay, and let the idea 
emanate from this: "And how can man die better than facing fear- 
ful odds.'' 

The little phrase came in on the morning mail the other day 
with the advice that it was a good idea for a photoplay. You are 
welcome to it. 

Above all things, write something that will please the public. 
Personally, I think Selig's Katzenjammer kids pictures are "rotten," 
but the public is otherwise. So you see one can never tell, but why 
not try it out on the dog? Let two or three of your enemies in on 
your ideas and see where they go. That is, imagine what they 
would say. 

James Montgomery, the author of ".Ready Money," one of the 
recent hits of the regular drama, has concocted a recipe for a suc- 
cessful play. Although it reads like a patent medicine advertisement, 
it smacks good and will apply to the photoplay. Of course the 
recipe must not be taken seriously, for after all it is the idea, but 
here is the recipe: 

"Plenty of well known subject matter. Well known types to 
present it. Some love. Seasoning of jealousy. Enough money in- 
volved to bring it up to date. Sift well together in the first act. 
Mix up thoroughly between first and last acts, and add the piece de 
resistance, an unexpected situation leading up to a strong climax 
in the last act. Always have sometnmg really happen in the last 
act. It should never be made merely a convenience for the gather- 
ing up of threads." 

My friend, have you heard of the town of Yawn on the banks 
of the river Slow, where blooms the Wait-awhile flower fair, and the 
some-time-or-other scents the air, and the soft Go-easys grow? It 
lies in the valley of What's-the-use, in the province of Let-her-slide; 
that old tired feeling is native there; it's the home of the listless I- 
don't-care, where the Put-it-offs abide. 

And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God bless Us, Every One! 
Yours for photoplays 


More About Scenes 

There is one thing the amateur motion picture playwright some- 
times overlooks, and which is absolutely essential to success. I re- 
fer to the number of scenes in which the story is told. Some writers 
drag out scene after scene that have no bearing whatever on the 
working out of the plot, but are inserted only because they are 

A motion picture film of approximately one thousand feet in 
length is projected on the screen in about twenty minutes. It is 
obvious that the same length of time is required in the taking of the 
picture. Hence, a story written for motion picture production 
should be carefully constructed to tell the salient points of action in 
as few scenes as possible. 

A manuscript containing twenty scenes for a thousand-foot pic- 
ture will have a possible average of fifty feet to describe the action 
in each scene, and fifty feet of pictures will be taken by a camera in 
approximately one minute. 

Of course, it is understood that some scenes are often two hun- 
dred feet in length, the action covering a period of four minutes, but 
it is also true that other scenes must necessarily be made shorter 
in order to not exceed the length of film on a standard reel. 

Manuscripts requiring thirty to forty scenes to describe a story 
must naturally suffer, as the time of action for each scene is short- 
ened by each scene inserted. So far, I have not taken into consider- 
ation the subtitles, letters or other matter inserted in a film that 
give clarity to the story. Of course, the ideal picture is the one in 
which subtitles are unnecessary, but most pictures contain from five 
to fourteen titles, thus consuming a good average of one hundred 
feet of film that must be subtracted from the original thousand feet. 

If the writer of a picture story would visualize the scenes of his 
manuscript, estimating the actual time each scene requires' to be 
enacted, he would readily see the value of a clear, concise descrip- 
tion of action, without superfluous scenes, which will only be "chop- 
ped out" or "trimmed" in the finishing room of the factory, should 
they by any accident get by the producer. 

Each scene should have a bearing on the other, taking as few 
characters as possible to work out the idea, bringing them step by 
step to the climax of the story, and if the plot is a good one, the 
author will have little difficulty in finding a ready purchaser. — By 
It. D. Armstrong, Editor of Scenarios for the American Film Mfg. 
Co., Chicago, 111. 


The Clearing House 

Believe that insistence on form is depriving the manu- 
facturer of much original material, which would other- 
wise come to him," says Stanner E. Taylor, a member 
of the Universal staff of photoplay directors. 

"A writer," says Mr. Taylor, "who knows nothing 
about putting an idea into shape will do so because he is told to, 
but in doing it his very lack of skill causes him to destroy the origi- 
nal idea, and his work is sent back, thereby depriving the producer 
of a good idea, but discouraging a writer, who might gradually be 
developed into a very valuable man. It is the man with ideas who 
is most needed in the picture business to-day. There are plenty 
of prominent and intelligent writers in the field of fiction, but who 
are totally unfit for picture work, for while they show marked 
ability at description and character drawing, they are unable to 
conceive of new and unusual combinations of incidents resulting in 
some particularly novel situation. It is by developing men of this 
character that pictures may not only simulate their own produc- 
tion, but may arouse also those in other fields of literature and 
drama to greater effort in this direction, and this is one of the ways 
in which the picture will be able to benefit the stage." 

"I have read so much about the great geniuses that are writ- 
ing photoplays, and 'Nothing ordinary wanted,' etc., that I am get- 
ting discouraged. I am not in Class A. At the theatre yesterday 
a fairly good play was shown — 'The Little Woolen Shoe,' by Ban- 
nister Merwin. Can anyone say there is anything new in that idea? 
Why I have read dozens of stories that hinge on that same idea, 
but being written by a scenario editor makes it all right. Had I 
written it, it doubtless would have been returned. I read in one of 
my books, (by E. F. Mclntyre of the Associated Motion Picture 
Schools) — 'Stick to the common things. Write for the common 
people. Such themes as 'Mother and Son,' and, 'A Daughter's De- 
votion" are always in demand.' Not by a long sight, unless written 
by a scenario editor." 

The above is from a subscriber in New York state. We don't 
doubt that she feels just what she says, but we will wager a gold 


headed umbrella that she does not arrange her scripts with the 
completed details and clearness of idea as does Bannister Merwin. 

It seems that a great many people (photo playwrights) confuse 
"story" with photoplay. Most of the amateur scenario writers tell 
only a story — always write stories, and use long leaders, etc. They 
know the story is good, but they haven't stopped to think of it as a 
photoplay because of the story. A photoplay is an action-story. 
The action is the essential thing. Bannister Merwin writes action- 

And as to the "common things." In a sense, Mr. Mclntyre is 
right, and again he is wrong. Good photoplays can be written 
around the most trivial things as well as the most extraordinary 
things. But as to the "stick" part. Don't stick to anything. If 
you try to "stick" to something your mind will work in one chan- 
nel only. It really doesn't matter whether you write on something 
common or otherwise, just as long as you tell a good action-story 
that is realistic and permits silent acting. 

"The other night I decided I would find out how Mr. Mullins 
of the Vitagraph company arranged his script. Although located 
more than a thousand miles away from New York, I believe I have 
discovered the key. I visited the local theater when 'An Eventful 
Elopement' was on. With pad and pencil, I took down the leaders 
and scribbled the action as I saw it. By remaining through three 
shows I secured a fairly good lot of material to work on, doing the 
same thing three times. On the following day I worked the notes 
into scenario form. After the script for 'An Eventful Elopement' 
was completed, I compared it to some of the rejected scripts I have 
stored away. Believe me, there surely was a difference. I hadn't 
realized the difference while arranging the script from the notes, 
and told myself that I had always done that. But when I noticed 
how the scenes were built — how the action was written in — I rea- 
lized one reason for the many rejected scripts I now have. You 
can bet that I got busy on revising and re-writing. I know some 
of the ideas I have incorporated in my photoplays are good, and I 
want to bet you, Mr. Editor, that I'll have some checks coming my 
way soon." 

The foregoing is from a photo playwright out in Wyoming, 
and we believe his plan is far from bad. In fact, the editor has 
since tried the same thing and found that it surely improves your 
ability to build scenes — to delineate action. Besides ,this practice 
will teach you considerable regarding continuity. 


Epes Winthrop Sargent has provided an answer to several of 
our subscribers by the following article on "punch," which ap- 
peared in a recent issue of "The Moving Picture World." Under 
the head, "The Photoplay Mart," our readers will note that the 
Kalem company desires dramas that have a solar plexus climax, 
which is the same thing as "punch," but here are the remarks of 
Mr. Sargent: 

"The other day a photoplay editor wrote that a certain story 
was not bad, but that it lacked the punch, and from the query of 
the recipient it is apparent that the impression was conveyed that 
the punch had to do with sensation. That's nothing like it. A 
story "has a punch" when it grips the spectator and it is as pos- 
sible for a wholly polite society play to possess a punch as it is for 
the most bloodcurdling Western melodrama. When a story lacks 
a punch it means that the plot is not pointed up or is the sort of 
plot that cannot be pointed up. Did you never see a story that left 
you thinking what a great story it might have been if it had been 
handled differently? That's the story that lacks the punch." 

"It seems to me that everybody in the country is writing pic- 
ture plots," says a subscriber from Jacksonville, Fla., who continues 
by saying: "I sent my manuscript, 'The Truth Seeker," to three 
different companies and it came back every time with the statement, 
'Not Just What We Want,' and all the editors went ahead to say 
that they were deluged with scenarios just now. I want to know 
what to do. I know my scenario is good, or at least I think it is. 
None of the editors have told me it is rotten, or anything like that, 
and I have become discouraged." 

The writer then asked that if all the manufacturers are 
swamped with scripts, what chance does he have of selling his 

The fact is, that he is chicken-hearted, and hasn't much back- 
bone. By all means, keep the scenario going. Start down the list 
of manufacturers and keep your manuscript going until it goes the 
route. If it becomes travel stained and worn, retype it and send it 
out some more. Of course it wouldn't be a bad idea to revise it 
now and then, which is nothing more or less tahn looking for the 
things that made the last editor reject it. "Not Just What We 
Want" is a stock excuse that is used by scenario editors to reject 
scripts when they can't think of anything else to say. 

Again — don't pick out your model company and submit it to 
them first. This is good advice to the beginner, who knows that 
the Biograph would make a dandy picture out of his idea. Post 
yourself as to the needs of the various companies. When you learn 
of a manufacturer who is wanting the sort of stuff you have writ- 
ten, fire it to him. If it comes back, send it to the other concern that 
is wanting the same sort of scripts. It is a ten to one bet that the 
first editor doesn't know a good photoplay when he reads one. But, 
the editor who buys your first script — he is sure the angel. 


Random Notes 

The scenario contest being conducted by the Power's Motion 
Picture Company, 422 West 216th Street, New York, N. Y., does 
not close until the 15th day of July. You still have time to get 
your scenario into the hands of the judges. Do not send scripts 
that have traveled to all the other companies. Send your new stuff. 
Address all manuscripts to Mr. C. B. Hoadley at the above address. 

Mr. Richard V. Spencer, of the Bison Pacific Coast Studio, at 
1712 Allesandro street, Los Angeles, Cal., is very anxious to receive 
for a first reading scripts of merit for split reel dramatic comedy. 
He says the check book is open and the lucre is in the bank. 

The Edison Company is going to produce "The Adventures of 
Mary" simultaneously with the publishing of the story in "The La- 
dies' World." That magazine will begin the series of articles on 
Mary's adventures with their next issue. In the first article Mary 
is a baby, but she grows, as most babies do, so there will be a new 
Mary adventure every month, likewise a new Edison Mary film 
every month. Evidently the photo playwrights are not supplying 
Edison with the proper sort of stuff or it would not have been 
necessary to link up with the magazine. 

Giles R. Warren, veteran photo playwright, is one of the 
factotum with the new Victor Company. The Victor is a member 
of the Universal alliance. Mr. Warren, when we first heard of him, 
was with Lubin. He migrated to the Imp staff, then back to Lubin, 
thence to Powers, and is now with the Victor. 

Eugene Mullin, formerly a member of the Vitagraph scenario 
staff, is now with the Helen Gardner Picture Players. Miss Holen 
Gardner is a former member of the Vitagraph stock company. 
Charles L. Gaskill, formerly of the Vitagraph scenario force, is 
manager of the Helen Gardner Picture Players' company. 

C. B. Hoadley, who is now the scenario chief for the Powers 
Company, won his first big recognition with the Imp Company. 
His photoplay, "Chesty Buys Tags," won fourth prize in the Imp 
scenario contest, following which Mr. Hoadley became the Imp 
scenario editor. From the Imp studio he migrated into the hands 
of one Pat Powers, where he is certainly showing some judgment 
when it comes to picking out the good scripts. 

The street address of the Melies Company at Santa Paula, Cal., 
is 3 34 West Main street. The Melies' producing force have been 


quartered at Sulphur Mountain Springs, near Santa Paula, although 
all mail addressed to Santa Paula has been reaching them. 

Robert Goodman, formerly a Melies director, is now with the 
Majestic Company, holding down the joint position of scenario 
editor and director. 

The Nestor Company is dramatizing the "Wild West Weekly" 
stories, commonly called five-cent dare-devil stories. Each week they 
release a new "Young Wild West" photoplay. These stories are 
written by "An Old Scout." Frank Tousey, publisher, of 168 West 
Twenty-third street, New York, N. Y., is getting the benefit of the 
advertising. The writer remembers when his mamma used to whip 
him for reading these stories. The other day he accompanied her 
to the theater when such a picture was being exhibited. She said 
it was grand. 

L. G. Coover tells the photo playwrights through the columns 
of "T&e Moving Picture World" to cut out writing murder pictures. 
He says: "Shade all such scenes; veil them or carry them by sug- 
gestion of a leader or a sub-title." He says, "Remember the cen- 

Miss Kathlyn Williams, a member of the Selig photoplayers, 
has turned photo playwright. "The Last Dance," which is released 
on the Glorious Fourth, is a picture story of the romance of a 
dancing girl. It is to be noticed, however, that Miss Williams does 
not appear in the picture, the part of the dancing girl (the lead) 
being played by Miss Winnifred Greenwood. 

If you hear some one call the moving picture play "movies," 
hit him square between the eyes. If photoplays are "movies" then 
you are a "movie" writer. Yes, go ahead and hit him. 

We are in receipt of a letter from Mr. C. Teft Hewitt, Chief 
of the Order Department of the Carnegie Library of Pittsburg, Pa., 
which reads as follows: "We should be very glad to have in this 
library a copy of your publication, 'How to Write and Market Mov- 
ing Picture Plays,' second edition, 1912, and write to ask if you 
have any copies of this available for free distribution. If so, we 
should be very grateful if you could spare a copy for this library, 
where it would be put to good use by our patrons. Trusting this 
may receive your favorable consideration, we are, yours very truly, 
Carnegie Library of Pittsburg, by C. T. Hewitt, Chief of Order 

Frankly, we want to say that very few of the so-called up-to- 
date books on photoplay writing are able to get inside the big 


libraries. The above from Mr. Hewitt just walked into the office 
in the morning mail. To be sure, we sent the book. We wonder 
how many other books on photoplay writing can get a lower berth 
in the Carnegie institution at Pittsburg? 

Eustace Hale Ball, the Eclair scenario editor, isn't very fond 
of the man who invented the "double-decked" typewriter ribbon. 
Here is one who is with you, Eustace. Our machine was intended 
to be built for the "double-decker," but the red smeared with the 
black most of the time so that we now have just good old black. 

I've got to stop. A new photoplay idea has just cracked 

Our Own Boquets 

"Received the book on 'How to Write Photoplays," also the 
copy of 'Photo Playwright" this afternoon. As to the former, will 
say that I finished a course with one of the correspondence schools 
and find that this book contains all that was taught me and more. 
The forms used in your book makes the information easy to under- 
stand and easy to get at. But best of all is 'The Photo Playwright.' 
I think it just fine and am surely glad I subscribed as it will always 
give me new courage." — Edward A. Lifka, 1944 Withnell Ave., St. 
Louis, Mo. 

"Thank you for placing us on your mailing list. We shall look 
forward with interest to the coming of your interesting little maga- 
zine and shall be happy to use extracts with credit, therefrom, when 
fancied. We are glad to note that you are not foisting 'Protective 
Associations' and such fakes upon the beginners." — MOVING PIC- 
TURE NEWS, by William Lord Wright, Editor, Scenario Dept. 

"I received your copy of 'The Photo Playwright' and have read 
the contents with interest. I am very sure that it is the greatest 
aid to photoplay writers that is now being circulated, esepcially 
'The Photoplay Mart' department." — Harry J. Paterson, Dallas, Tex. 

"I have read the books, carefully, and I wish to say that I 
think the information given in them is not only satisfactorily com- 
plete, but set forth in a clear and pleasing way. Now if I fail to 
'put over' my material it will be because it is not 'in me' to 'get 
away with it' and not the fault of your publications." — Will T. Hen- 
derson, 3505 Mich. Blvd., Chicago, 111. 


The Photoplay Mart 


HIS department is just as complete and authentic as it 
is possible to make it. Under this head we publish 
each month the names and correct addresses of the mo- 
tion picture manufacturers who are in the market for 
playscripts. The information given here can be relied 
upon as a general statement of the wants of the various manufac- 
turers, since we secure statements from the manufacturers for the 
compilation of this department. There is just one way to keep in 
touch with the photoplay market, and that is through the advices 
printed herein month by month. Now and then an error creeps 
into these reports owing to the sudden changes in the needs of the 
manufacturers. However, this list is a criterion of the wants just 
at this time and probably will hold good throughout the month of 


UNIVERSAL FILM MFG. CO., 1 Union Square, New York, N. Y. 
They have issued the following statement: "We are in the 
market for high class scenarios, covering comedy, split and 
single reels, drama, and sensational and western one and two 
reels. The minimum price paid for a single reel scenario is 
$25.00, and for short, split reel scenarios, $15.00. If your 
scenario is not worth these amounts, do not submit it. Manu- 
scripts should be typewritten, and return postage enclosed." 
Scenarios sent to the Universal will be considered for the fol- 
lowing companies: 

Imp Films Co., 102 West 101st St., New York, N. Y. 

Rex Motion Picture Mfg. Co., 5 73-7 9 Eleventh Ave., New 

York, N. Y. 

Nestor Studio, Sunset Blvd. and Gower St., Hollywood, Cal. 

Powers Motion Picture Co., 416 to 422 W. 216th St., New 

York, N. Y. 

Eclair Film Co., Linwood Ave., Fort Lee, N. J. 

Champion Film Mfg. Co., 12 East 15th St., Ne wYork, N. Y. 

Gem Motion Picture Co., 573-79 Eleventh Ave., New York, 

N. Y. 


Victor Film Co., 573-79 Eleventh Ave., New York, N. Y. 
Bison Pacific Coast Studio, 1712 Allesandro St., Los Angeles, 

Just at this time the Eclair, Powers and Bison companies are 
buying scripts sent direct to them, regardless of the Universal 
alliance. This is due to the fact that the Eclair company has 
not sold to the Universal; that the Powers company is con- 
ducting a contest, and that the Bison company is located in 
the West and can handle its affairs with greater dispatch than 
can the Eastern office of the Universal. 

Photo playwrights should be very careful about submitting 
their scripts to the Universal in that if your scenario has been 
rejected by two or three companies in the Universal alliance, 
it has little chance of getting by. You are merely duplicat- 

Richard V. Spencer, 1712 Allesandro St., Edendale, Los An- 
geles, Cal., has charge of the Universal scenario interests in 
the West and all scripts for the Imp, Nestor and Bison com- 
panies should be sent to him — that is — if the story is of a 
western nature. 

The following covers the wants of the Universal: 
Imp — W r estern dramatic plots. Historical dramas. Emo- 
tional plots. 

Rex — Big emotional human lift plots — ones with morals. 
Nestor — Split reel comedies and full reel comedy dramas. 
Powers — American life stories — dramas and comedies. 
Eclair — Split and full reel comedies, also good dramas. 
Champion — Comedies and western dramas. Split and full 

Gem — Exceptionally strong human life dramas. 
Victor — Comedy dramas for full reel picture. 
Bison — Split reel comedies, single reel Indian, Pioneer and 
Western dramas; two reel scripts for Military, Indian, Trap- 
per, Pioneer and other combinations of Western characters. 


Ave., Brooklyn, N. Y. 

Short, crisp modern five hundred foot comedies, or farce 
comedies, are more in demand than anything else. Also 
strong original dramas, leading up to, if possible, one tense 
scene which will keep the audience breathless. This includes 
dramatic, melo-dramatic and tragic plots, which may be of 


a Western nature or society play. No blood and thunder stuff 
wanted. Scripts given prompt consideration and rate of pay- 
ment is very good. 

LUBIN MANUFACTURING CO., Indiana Ave., Philadelphia, Pa. 

Strong original society dramas, those containing heart inter- 
est mostly desired, also comedies which have plenty of real 
live humor. The essential thing is originality of theme, no 
matter in what environment it is worked out. Western studio 
is located at 1625 Fleming St., Los Angeles, Cal., where West- 
ern and Spanish stories should be submitted. Prompt con- 
sideration and good pay. 

THOMAS A. EDISON, INC., 2826 Decatur Ave., Bedford Park, New 
York, N. Y. 

Desires scripts detailing quick action comedy. Comedy dramas 
are acceptable. Strong and appealing dramas of American 
life are also desired, but they must have an exceptionally 
strong climax. Historic incidents are available. Do not try 
to put something over on this company for they are prepared 
to nail you. Name of author is placed on film, advertising 
poster, bulletins, etc. Good pay. 

G. MELIES CO., Santa Paula, California. 

Western comedies and dramas are acceptable. Dramas must 
permit the big scene. Eliminate the triangle — (the wife who 
has a lover) — in your dramas. Good stuff with heart interest 
and opportunities for Western acting preferred. No blood 
and thunder will get by. Be original. Good pay and prompt 

PATHE FRERES, 1-3-5 Congress St., Jersey City Heights, N. J. 

Buying intense emotional and heart interest dramas which 
call for American atmosphere. Comedies purchased now and 
then. All material for Western Co. is prepared by their own 
staff. Two weeks required for consideration. 

THE KALEM CO., 235 West 23rd St., New York, N. Y. 

Dramas of business life — ones with solar plexus cliamx — are 
eagerly sought for at all times. Now and then buy comedies, 
split reel. Historic scripts desired, also Spanish and Mexican 
plots. Big human life stuff wanted. 

SELG POLYSCOPE CO., 20 East Randolph St., Chicago, 111. 

Most of the photoplays produced by this company are prepared 
by the regular scenario staff maintained. However, comedies 
will sell, also good dramas. They are very exacting, conse- 
quently buy very few manuscripts. 


ESSANAY FILM MFG. CO., 1315-1333 Argyle St., Chicago, 111. 

Good comedies, with plenty of laughs. Of course lots of 
laughs make good comedies. Dramas with lots of heart in- 
terest will he considered. No Western stuff wanted. 


AMERICAN FILM MFG. CO., Ashland Block, Chicago, 111. 

Intense emotional stories of American life, replete with strong 
vital dramatic situations. Novelty and originality in both 
theme and situation are requisite factors to be considered. Can 
also use good clean cut comedies for split and full reels. Name 
of author is placed on the film. Immediate consideration 
given all manuscripts and excellent pay for the exceptional 

MAJESTIC MOTION PICTURE CO., 14 5 West 45th St., New York, 
N. Y. 

High class comedies are wanted. Stuff must be original and 
produce the laughs. Make your stories suited to the work 
of Herbert Prior and Mabel Trunnelle, the laugh-smiths of the 
Majestic plant. 

REPUBLIC FILM CO., 145 West 45th St., New York, N. Y. 

Plots calling for strong, vital dramatic situations are desired 
by this company. The story must be unusual. 

SOLAX COMPANY, Flushing, N. Y. 

Refined comedies are wanted — ones that will permit Billy 
Quirk to assume chief role. Spectacular dramas — ones with 
gripping and novel plot, will be considered. Now and then 
will use mystery stories. Require from ten to fifteen days 
to consider script. Pay is average. 

COMET FILM CO., 344 East 32nd St., New York, N. Y. 

High class dramas calling for both indoor and outdoor scenes 
can be used. Full and split reel comedies are also desired. 


Thanhouser Co., New Rochelle, N. Y. 

Biograph Co., 11 East 14th St., New York, N. Y. 


Annex Motion Picture Co., National City, Cal. 
Victograph Film Co., 154 Berriman St., New York, N. Y. 
St. Louis Motion Picture Co., St. Louis, Mo. 
Pacific Motion Picture Co., Los Angeles, Cal. 
Hochstetter Utility Co., 32 Union Square, New York, N. Y. 


Crystal Film Co., Wendover and Park Aves., New York, N. Y. 
Belmar Motion Picture Co., 1451 Broadway, New York, N. Y. 


Diamond Film Co., 68 Fifth St., Woodside, L. I., N. Y. 
Isis Motion Picture Co., 311 W. 9th St., Glendale, Cal. 

In a recent issue of "The Moving Picture World," mention is 
made of the Diamond Film Co., to the effect that they are prepar- 
ing for the issuing of regular weekly releases. A report on this 
company will be given in the next issue of "The Photo Playwright." 

Photo playwrights will do well to send their scripts to the com- 
panies listed in this department as buying. Leave the "not buying 
just now," the "not reported," and "unknown" companies go until 
some later time when you can learn just what disposition will be 
made with your script in case you should send it to them. 


The Kinemacolor Co. of America, 145 West 45th St., New York 
City, N. Y., is advertising in all the trade journals for scenarios, 
but we have been unable to get a report on them. In a recent article 
in the trade journals, however, we notice where they are given as 
desiring high class full and split comedies, also good strong dramas. 


"Spectator," the editor of the moving picture department for 
"The Dramatic Mirror," has the following advice to give relative 
to the preparation of a scenario: 

"First (using a typewriter) set clown your cast of characters. 
Next give a synopsis of the story in narrative form in about two 
hundred or two hundred and fifty words. Then write your photo- 
play proper, giving each scene in the order in which it should ap- 
pear on the screen, and numbering them consecutively. The form 
of writing a scene should be brevity itself. For instance: Busi- 
ness office interior. Man at desk opening and reading letters. Tears 
his hair in anguish. Throws letters out of the window. Kicks the 
office boy under the chin. Sneaks a bottle from behind the desk 
and takes a drink, etc. Incidentally it may be remarked that this 
is a scene in The Spectator's office when he gets a handful of giddy, 
girly letters about the handsomest actors in the world. But to 
continue our lesson in photoplay forms: Between or in the scenes 
should be inserted such subtitles as are needed in the pic- 
ture. If you can get this photoplay proper into five hundred words 
well and good, but if you take over two thousand words you stand 
a strong chance of not having it read." 

We disagree with him, in that the synopsis should be given 
first, followed by the cast of characters. Otherwise, "Spec's" ad- 
vice is A. No. 1. 


What Moving Pictures Add 
To Life 

(By Wm. Lightfoot Yisscher.) 

(Selig Press Club Contest Prize Winning Article) 

(Copyright, 1912, by the Selig Polyscope Co.) 

T WOULD take a large book to fairly tell all that is 
good and true about moving pictures; all that every- 
body should know. The truth of this statement is wide- 
ly known and yet the moral is often overlooked. Mil- 
lions of people simply see the pictures and enjoy them. 
That is good, but among thinking people, and those who have hu- 
manity's welfare at heart, it is not enough. 

Every reel of- moving pictures that is made for public presenta- 
tion is passed upon by a national board of judicious persons ap- 
pointed for that purpose. Their duty is to eliminate any evil that 
might be wrought through pictures that should not be publicly ex- 
hibited, because of the influence that they might exert by pernicious 
or unwholesome eaxmple among the young or mature. 

This is carefully done. The fact is shown, in words on the 
screen, before the pictures are presented, and thus all evil is elim- 
inated before it has an opportunity to work any manner of harm 

Under these circumstances, moving pictures have proven to be 
p,i\. immeasurable blessing in many valuable ways, and injurious in 

In the first place, the moving pictures afford delightful enter- 
tainment at a price of admission so small that anyone can easily 
afford the very light expense. In all the values of things there is, 
perhaps, nothing in the world where one gets so much of good for 
the investment. Aside from the entertainment, the beneficial influ- 
ences would be difficult of enumeration and description. Among 
these, however, may be mentioned the edifying, salutary and profit- 
able lessons conveyed to the public, and especially to the young; the 
morals taught by the exposure of the evils of intemperance, idle- 
ness, dishonesty and immorality. These are set forth in well-acted 
dramas, comprehensible to all minds and that hold .the attention of 
the most frivolous, thereby reaching not only the kindly-hearted 
and thoughtful, but impressing a class that sermons and preach- 
ment would repel. 


The compass and power of moving picture influence, in this 
beneficent way, is far beyond computation. It is even beyond full 
comprehension, when the widespread scope, range and reach is con- 
sidered, in subject-matter and circulation. 

Think of the educational value of the scenic travelogues con- 
stantly given, with their intimate views of foreign lands, the habits, 
costumes, customs, arts and industries of the people. With these, 
also, wonders of nature, topographical characteristics of interesting- 
regions, the architecture and other handiwork of man, past and 
present; the world in tabloid, and yet more impressively and closely 
presented than years of actual travel, at vast expense of time and 
money, could accomplish. 

Stirring events of war and other history are visualized and made 
plain to the observer; scriptural stories, chronicles and classcis; 
great deeds of heroic, patriotic and powerful persons brought di- 
rectly to the eye and mind, inculcating admiration for brave and 
worthy action and ambition to emulate and profit by noble example; 
the history of our own country and its vanished romances, especial- 
ly those relating to the old South and the far West — the first, 
homogenized and made new; the second, changed from desert and 
wilderness to homes, and industries and all that exalts and embel- 
lishes modern life. Materfal like this caught with the camera and 
thrown upon the screen, in lifelike proportions, impresses the minds 
and hearts of the young, and less educated adults, in a remarkable 
and forceful manner for good, and is fitly entertaining to every- 

Marvels of photography including tricks of the camera; the 
stimulation that these evolve toward research into the sciences of 
light and optics — branches incompletely understood, but much ad- 
vanced since the advent of the moving picture; the combination of 
the camera and the microscope in scientific investigations, where it 
is necessary to obtain instantaneous, accurate and permanent records 
of what the microscope reveals — especially valuable in studying 
micro-organisms of plant and animal life; these are added phases of 
the moving-picture possibilities. Through these a complete and 
unjntermittent record is made of the processes involved in liquifying 
and vaporizing a solid, by either heat or chemicals, thus giving the 
scientist an opportunity to study, at his, leisure, physical aspects 
which were before dependent upon his memory — which could not be 
exact — and upon incomplete observations by the eye, or that de- 
pended upon the record of imperfect instruments. All of which 
advantages may be exhibited to public audiences. 

Through the record of the moving-picture film men of to-day 
will walk the world for ages hence, as lifelike as though then in 


actual existence, and future generations will have a living record 
from which to judge the past, instead of the hearsay, garbled and 
altogether incomplete and unreliable records of biased historians, 
or those not entirely possessed of the facts. This opens an almost 
endless theme as to what might have been had the world possessed 
the moving picture centuries ago. 

Not only the cities, but nearly every village of this and other 
civilized countries, have moving-picture showhouses that are open 
every evening, and these are doing more to bring the world to the 
view of everybody; to familiarize the people with the things that 
should be known; to easily advance general knowledge in geography, 
celestial phenomena, science, biography, art and literature, than all 
other methods combined. It is the greatest and most thorough of 
object-teaching methods and it is all readily at the eye and mind of 
high or humble, and at the very hours of leisure, when soul and 
body seek recreation. 

The physiological principle involved in the work of the moving- 
picture machine is that a definite interval is requisite to achieve a 
nerve impression, and however quick this impression may be, time is 
required for the perception to vanish. The plainest illustration of 
this is that a blow upon on the body will produce a sensation of pain 
that may last for minutes, hours, or days. 

Taken altogether, the moving picture is so valuable to human 
life, as an entertainer and educator, that it should be cultivated and 
promoted by all classes of those who wish to learn, and those who 
seek to teach that which is beneficial and worth while. It is the 
realization of teacher and student on a level. It is a boon beyond 
the conception of value. 


The following is clipped from "The Dramatic Mirror" just as 
we go to press. It explains the position some of the companies 
mentioned above are taking towards getting down to work: 

"The Peerless is the name chosen by a new group of Independ- 
ent motion picture producers, organized last Saturday. Five Amer- 
ican companies are now associated in the new venture, and they 
hope to secure enough exchange connections to insure the sale of 
from ten to fifteen copies of each release at the start. The chief 
promoter of the new movement is a Mr. Poote, of California, who 
has been producing pictures for some time under the trademark of 
the 'Annex.' None of these pictures have been seen in the East, 

so far as The Mirror can discover. Associated with Mr. Poote are 



the following companies: The 'Success,' another California con- 
cern; the 'Fox,' also of the West; the 'Victograph,' of Brooklyn, 
and the 'Arrow,' a new company started by Sidney Franklin in 
New York. 

"It is proposed, also, it is said, to issue a topical weekly to 
be called the Weekly Topic. 

"Mr. Foote is about to start on a tour of the country to line 
up exchanges that will handle the product of the new Peerless or- 
ganization. Mr. Foote claims that he has favorable assurances 
from a number of exchange men who are not tied up by the other 
two Independent organizations. 

"The Arrow Company will make a specialty of farces and 
comedies, the head of the company, Sidney Franlkin, having al- 
ready established an excellent reputation in that line. Mr. Franklin 
has been very successful in writing humorous and dramatic photo- 
plays for both Licensed and Independent producers, and recently 
he directed and produced, as his own venture, two comedies of 
novel plots." 


The persistent demand of the Photoplay editors to get plays 
that are based on new ideas, and the tremendous surplus of plays 
that contain old ideas with slight variations, suggest that there is a 
large field that has as yet hardly been scratched. Every nation has 
dozens, yes, hundreds, of dead heroes — not necessarily military 
heroes, but heroes of the arts and sciences — that could easily be 
made themes for Photoplays. In our own country we have seen 
much of Lincoln and Washington, but how about Webster, the 
logician; Edward Everett, the rhetorician; Clay, the politician; Cal- 
houn, the metaphysician; Patrick Henry, the patriot; Jackson, the 
impetuous; Lewis Cass, the courteous; Thomas H. Benton, the mag- 
isterial; William C. Preston, the inspired declaimer: Thomas Cor- 
win, the natural orator; Garfield, the martyr; Franklin, the grand- 
father of his country, and so on? No doubt there is some dramatic 
event in the lives of all great men around which a Photoplay could 
be written, and even if the films had no better title than "Life of 
Franklin, printer, philosopher, inventor and statesman," or, "Daniel 
Webster, the thunderer," etc., they would be popular, and, of course, 
instructive and educational. American literature has a brilliant ar- 
ray of subjects for Motion Pictures, including Washington Irving, 
Cooper, Longfellow, Emerson, Walt Whitman and Oliver Wendell 
Holmes. Our boys and girls must not be allowed to forget the great 
geniuses who have made America what it is, and Motion Pictures 
will serve that purpose where books and teachers leave off. — From 
"The Motion Picture Story Magazine." # 


From Our Contemporaries 

A Camden, Ohio, author asks us if an author would have the 
right to take a single idea from a novel or, in his words, "Is there 
any law preventing an author from taking a central idea from a 
novel or book and changing the story otherwise?"' 

Only the copyright law, my friend, and the fact that you would 
be stealing the originality of another were you "to take the central 
idea from a novel or book and changing the story otherwise." Why 
should you wish to filch the property of another, which you would 
be doing were you to take the central idea from a "novel or book" 
and building a picture-play around it. Most of the producers have 
magazine and book readers in the editorial departments to detect 
just such a custom as you mention, Even if the plot so changed 
should escape the eagle eye of the editorial reader (which is not 
likely) and should be produced, the manufacture might become 
liable to copyright infringement from the book publisher. Be 
iriginal. Pursue the elusive idea; maybe there is a good idea for 
a pictureplay right before your eyes, but your powers of observation 
are not sufficiently trained to see it. It is the writers of original 
plots in scripts that will succeed and are suceeding. You cannot 
afford to get into the "bad books" of the producers by building pic- 
tureplays around the central idea o fa book or novel. Besides it 
is dangerous. — Moving Picture News. 

A Realistic Performance 

The manager of a moving-picture factory wanted to depict a 
lynching. He hired a darky whom he found loafing about one of 
the New York piers to play the part of the victim and selected a 
quiet corner of Bronx Park for the scene of the make-believe hang- 

First the darky fled from a pack of ravening bloodhounds that 
had been borrowed from an Uncle Tom's Cabin troupe. The dogs 
treed him and a mob of ten, twenty and thirty cent actors, made up 
as stage Southerners, dashed up on horseback and dragged him 
down. A rope was thrown about his neck, fitting over a leather 
harness that was supposed to protect his throat and enable him to 
breathe. His arms were bound and he was yanked up high in the 
air, while the cameras clicked and tbe counterfeit lynchers capered 
about and brandished revolvers. 

The manager and his assistant stood some distance away study- 
ing the general effect. 

"Do you know," said the manager admiringly, "that colored 
man with a little training would make an actor. I told him to kick 
and wriggle his legs and carry on, and just look at him. Did you 
ever see anything more realistic in your life?" 

"I never did," said his assistant. "He's even bulged his eyes 
tion, and cut down the darky actor in time to save his life. 

Just then a mounted policeman rode up and took in the situa- 
out and stuek his tongue out." 

The noose had slipped up over the leather neckguard and in 
another minute or two there -would have been a dead negro on 
somebody's hands. 

The policeman revived the strangled victim and took him and 
the rest of the troupe to the station house, and there the story came 




The Photo Playwright 

Your subscription will be of more 
value and encouragement to us than 
ten subscriptions a year from now. 

Everybody in the business should 
have it, for it is valuable for man 
and boy, old-timer and beginner. 

Its purpose is to assist the scenario writer and promote his 
welfare, being devoted to the best interests of picture playwrights. 
It gives such information as is desired and needed by students of 
the photoplay. 

Make All Remittances Payable To 

The Photoplay Enterprise Association 


Single Copy 15 cents 

For the Year $1.00 

Send your subscription today and get every issue. 
Send it now, if possible. 


To scenario writers who desire the proper tools for their work, 
namely, paper and envelopes, we make the following 1 offer: 


100 sheets paper, 8^x11 inches . . . 

100 envelopes, No. 11 

100 envelopes, No. 10 (enclosures) 

The above order will be doubled on receipt of money order 
for $2.00. 

The envelopes mentioned above ^are not the ordinary cheap 
white envelopes generally used, but tough Manila envelopes — just 
the thing for mailing scenarios. 



Conditions in the moving picture world are constantly chang- 
ing; the demands of the scenario editors are many and varied with 
these changes. To keep abreast of the times, all writers should 
be regular subscribers to one or more of the reputable photoplay 
publications. We quote you the following rates: 

Moving Picture World, $2.75 


The regular price of this publication is $3.00 a year. The 
Photoplay Enterprise Association recommends it as ehe best of 
its kind printed. 

Motion Picture Story Magazine, $1.40 

A publication of a different sort — it tells the stories of the best 
photoplays in story form — finely illustrated. The regular price is 
$1.50 a year. 

The Photoplay Enterprise Association 


A man is known by the company 
he keeps 

OU should throw away that rubber stamp 
you've been using. Honestly, it looks bad. 

Take a look at this 


Photo Playwright 


We will print you 250 letter heads, using good white 
coin bond paper, 8* by 11 inches in width and length, 
type display as above, for $1.50, 

You can get 2 50 envelopes, best grade of white Hoo- 
sier wove, with name, street address and location, for 
$1.50. These envelopes are 6% by 3% inches in width 
and length. 

If you want both envelopes and paper, printed, we will 
make them to you at $2.75. 

Send your order to day. Our printing shop isn't so 
very busy this month, so we can give your order imme- 
diate attention. 

Boonville, Ind., U. S. A. 

How to Write and Market 
Moving Picture Plays 

Is undoubtedly the most far-reaching work on scenario 
writing now in print. 


"We have perused carefully and with great interest your 
book, 'How to Write and Market Moving Picture Plays,' and 
we can only endorse all that you state concerning the writing 
of moving picture plays. 

"Let us hope that all scenario writers will follow your 
instructions to the great pleasure and comfort of all moving 
picture manufacturers now compelled to read an ever increas- 
ing number of poor productions in the hope of finding a gem 
amongst them." 


"Before purchasing your book I made several attempts to write and 
sell picture plays — always failed. Up to date I have written eleven and 
sold eight, bringing me $265." — E. K. J., Indianapolis, Ind. 

"My first scenario has been purchased for $50." — A. W. B., Colorado 
Springs, Colo. 

"Yesterday's mail brought me two checks, one for $25, another for 
$20, being payment for two moving picture scenarios that were written 
after work hours." — C. H. R., Red Oak, Iowa. 

How to Write and Market Moving Picture Plays 


It teaches the rudiments of writing photoplay plots — ones that con- 
tain heart-throbs and hearty laughs. It teaches you how to evolve worth- 
while plots; it tells how to construct the salable scenario; what the pro- 
ducer wants, and why; how to market the manuscript. It is a complete 
mail course in picture play-writing prepared in the form of a book con- 


PHOTOPLAY KNOWLEDGE — Grammar and Spelling; Photoplay 
Terms; Photoplay Distinctions; Classification of Photoplays; Photoplay 
Ideas; What to Avoid; Camera and Studio Conditions; Photoplay Limita- 
tions; Economical Considerations; Photoplay Don'ts. 

TECHNIQUE*" OF THE PHOTOPLAY — Photoplay Construction; The 
Plot; Atmosphere and Effects; The Synopsis; A Completed Scenario; The 
Type Script; What Manufacturers Demand; Manufacturers' Names and 
Addresses; Submitting the Manuscript* Photoplay Rules. 

Price $1.50 Mailed Anywhere in the United States 

Mrpri w no THIQ Now, are you going to let $1.50 stand between 
ivicrecuT u\j mio you and thla chance t0 get your start ln thls 

profession? Stop right now — send for this book — it will sell your scenarios. 

Book Department 

The Photoplay Enterprise Association 


Are you one of those who have 
intended to but have not? 

|1NCE April, when the first issue of The Photo 
Playwright was issued, many statements have 
been made regarding its value to the photo- 
play author. 

Some writers and others said it would prove a fake 
and a frost. But there were hundreds of others who 
were so interested that they subscribed immediately. 

These photo playwrights now know this magazine is 
the most valuable aid that can be secured. They are 
selling their scripts solely as a result of keeping in touch 
with the markets and following the advice given in every 
issue of The Photo Playwright. 

You can do the same. Don't put it off any longer. 

One Dollar 
A Year 

Send Money Order— 

we cannot use 



Boonville, Indiana, U. S. A. 

Special Articles 






Brass Tack Talks 
The Photoplay Mart 
The Clearing House 



AUGUST, 1912 

No. 5 



To scenario writers who desire the proper tools for their work, 
namely, paper and envelopes, we make the following offer: 

100 sheets paper, 8^x11 inches ... 
100 envelopes, No. 11 

100 envelopes, No. 10 (enclosures) 


The above order will be doubled on receipt of money order 
for $2.00. 

The envelopes mentioned above are not the ordinary cheap 
white envelopes generally used, but tough Manila envelopes — just 
the thing for mailing scenarios. 



Conditions in the moving picture world are constantly chang- 
ing; the demands of the scenario editors are many and varied with 
these changes. To keep abreast of the times, all writers should 
be regular subscribers to one or more of the reputable photoplay 
publications. We quote you the following rates: 

Moving Picture World, $2.75 


The regular price of this publication is $3.00 a year. The 
Photoplay Enterprise Association recommends it as ehe best of 
its kind printed. 

Motion Picture Story Magazine, $1.40 

A publication of a different sort — it tells the stories of the best 
photoplays in story form — finely illustrated. The regular price is 
$1.50 a year. 

The Photoplay Enterprise Association 



Vol. 1 

AUGUST, 1912 

No. 5 

Getting the Germ 3 

W. Hanson Durham 

Joe Roach Talks 5 ' 

At the Vitagraph Studio 7 

By the Editor 

Random Notes 8 

Brass Tack Talks.... 10 

The Clearing House 12 

Magazine Comment 14 

The Photoplay Mart 15 

IT is ONE 

Copyright 1912 by 

The Photoplay Enterprise 


it is 




The Photo Playwright 

Devoted to the Interests of the Scenario Writer. 




Rates of Payment 

N. Y. Motion Picture Co., 521 WEST 19th St., New York, 

Champion Film Co., 145 West 45th St., New York, N. Y. 
N. Y. ,$15.00 up. 
$5.00 up. 

Comet Film Co., 344 East 32d St., New York, N. Y., $15.00 

Eclair Film Co., 225 West 42d St., New York, N. Y., $2.00 

Great Northern Film Co., 7 East 14th St., New York, N. Y., 
$20.00 up. 

Imp Films Co., 102 West 101st St., N. Y., $5.00 to $15.00. 

R. Prieur, 10 East 15th St., New York, N. Y., importer only. 
No scenarios. 

Majestic Motion Picture Co., 540 West 21st St., New York, 
N. Y., $15.00 up. 

Nestor Film Co., Bayonne, N. J., $15.00 up. 

Powers Motion Picture Co., 422 West 216th St., New York, 
N. Y., $10.00. 

Reliance, 540 West 21st St., New York, N. Y., $25.00 up. 

Rex Motion Picture Mfg. Co., 573 Eleventh Ave., New York, 
N. Y., $15.00 up. 

Solax Co., Congress Ave., Flushing, N. Y., $25.00 up. 

Thanhouser Co., New Rochelle, N. Y., $25.00 up. 

Feature & Educational Film Co., 104 Prospect Ave., Cleve- 
land, Ohio, $10.00 up. 

Gaumont Co., Flushing, N. Y.. $25.00 up. 

Biograph Film Co., 11 East 14th St., New York, N. Y., 
$15.00 up. 

Thomas A. Edison, 239 Lakeside Ave., Orange, N. J., $20.00 

Essanay Film Co., 521 First National Bank Bldg., Chicago, 
111., $10.00 up. 

Kalem Co., 235 West 23d St., New York, N. Y., $10.00 

Lubin Mfg. Co., 20th and Indiana Aves., Philadelphia, Pa., 
$20.00 up. 

G. Melies, 204 East 38th St., New York, N. Y., value 
$15.00 to $50.00. 

Pathe Fre'res, 41 West 25 th St., New York, N. Y., $5.00 to 

Selig Polyscope Co., Chicago, 111., $25.00 up. 

Geo. Kline, 166 North State St., Chicago, 111., importer 
only. No scenarios required. 

Vitagraph Co., 116 Nassau St., New York, N. Y., $10.00 
to $20.00. 

From "The Moving Picture News." 

iL> Ul. D C D * " 

Photo Playwright 

Vol. I 

AUGUST, 1912. 

No. 5 

Getting The Germ 

By W. Hanson Durham, Author of " When Roses Wither, 
" Sheriff Jim's Last Shot, " " The Minute Man, »' and 
Almost a Hundred Other Popular Photoplays. 

ANY would-be writers have asked me if it is a difficult 
thing to write a photoplay! My reply is — No! It is 
rather a simple thing to write the play itself — after you 
get the IDEA. The difficult part lies in securing an 
IDEA or presentable plot. In fact, with myself, I find 
that almost the whole secret of success lies in the plot 
itself. If the IDEA is there — the writing of the play itself is sim- 
ple enough if you have the knowledge of proper construction. By 
this, I mean that to the one who is able to create, imagine or con- 
struct an original, interesting or instructive plot — that the ability 
to present it in proper photoplay form should be easy. 

However, such is no always the case. I have known those who 
were able to present the most plausible plots, yet they were absolute- 
ly unable to put their ideas upon paper in presentable form, nor 
could they seem to grasp the idea of construction. 

Speaking of IDEAS for plots for photoplays — I mean ideas 
which are not only original, but presentable. Actually, it is now 
practically impossible to obtain a plot which is really ORIGINAL. 
Almost every conceivable condition, situation and circumstance has 
already been used again and again, therefore, if we cannot secure 
or create original ideas — we can only reconstruct — re-use in a new 
form that which is not new, but put in a new form. While the idea 
itself *may not be original, the way in which it is used may be origi- 
nal with the writer. I have found, speaking seriously, that a good 
plot, a presentable plot, is the most difficult part of writing a photo- 


play. If I can secure an acceptable idea or plot — with me, the rest 
is easy. The successful writer of photo plays must, therefore, be 
not only a good judge of human nature, but a student of life in 
all its phases as well. He must be strong in imagination, creative 
of conditions or circumstances wherein lie the best possibilities of 
dramatic action. He must know the weakness and strength of the 
human heart, the ways of the world and possess that peculiar touch 
upon the truth of things of which he tells which will give his work 
not only that subtle strength, but which will serve to bring forth 
in it all the dramatic possibilities, the strongest situations consistent 
with the clearness of the story without condicing the conditions or 
plausibilities of the plot. 

With myself — I secure a plot — germ of a plot or idea first — as 
original as possible. Then by serious study of all its possibilities, 
such as strength of situations, dramatic possibilities, human interest 
and plausabilities of the plot, I thus perfect the plot to my own 
satisfaction — then I proceed to put it on paper, as I have told in a 
previous article. (In the May Number.) 

How and where do I get my plots? There are many ways. By 
reading — which will often create new ideas within yourself or sug- 
gest something which contains the germ or idea of a presentable plot 
if properly presented. Again, by bits of every day life and happen- 
ings all about us in every walk of life in plain sight and hearing, 
if we will only keep our eyes and ears open for them. I have writ- 
ten many photo plays from some little incident I have seen or heard, 
with suitable alterations, of course. 

However, most of my best photo plays have been written from 
plots which were purely imagination or creation of my own brain. 
I have had the lightest suggestion of an idea lie dormant in my mind 
for many months, even while writing other plays, before it would as- 
sume acceptable form for presentation. 

Perhaps my most successful way of securing ideas is a peculiar 
one. It Is my most reliable method and a method which never fails 
with me, and possibly it may help you who wants just this sort of 
help just now. Of course, we all know that a good title helps to sell 
a play — other conditions being equal. Now the way I do is this — 
simple enough, if you have even a little imagination. 

I have a small note book, and in this book I jot down a good, 
striking and strong title suitable for a photo play whenever I hap- 
pen to think of one good enough. Nothing but the best, the strong- 
est, the most striking and the most original or peculiar will do — 
nothing commonplace gets down here. This is my "brain book." 
When I have that itching to write a photo play come upon me and 
I cannot think of anything to write, I simply turn to my book of 

titles and read them over carefully and as they are all good, strong 
titles, it is almost always that 1 can find at least one title among 
them all which appeals to me and serves to arouse my interest and 
inspiration — and then having selected my title, I stick to that title, 
and close the book and lay it aside. I have now got my idea — and 
from the suggestion or idea conveyed by the title I have selected, 
I create, imagine and build a story from it in my mind, and then 
when I get the plot perfected in my mind, clearly conceived, I then 
proceed to put it in presentable form, as already told. 

I have found that this book of titles is a great help. With me 
it supplies an idea, plot, inspiration or germ of an idea from which 
I build the rest of the story according to the title I have selected. 
Many writers, perhaps most of them — title their play after it is com- 
pleted. This I hardly ever do — although I have had my producers 
change my titles and re-title them to suit themselves. If one can 
write from inspiration of a strong, striking title, then why not do it? 
I have found, that by keeping the title I have selected well in mind 
while writing and keeping in mind all that title means, it serves as 
a stronger inspiration to get the most there is in it out and into the 
story. If this looks good to you why not go and buy you a little 
"Brain Book" and act accordingly? 

Joe Roach Talks 

About Many Things in General and Scenarios in Particular 

— Good 

isten, I'm not going to sermonize, lecture or lament — 
I'm going to lash neither my teeth nor my vocabulary 
in an inspired attempt to inflict a deathless epic on the 
art of scenario writing. I will leave that pleasant and 
popular task to the self recognized geniuses who know 
so much about scenarios that right away they've got to 
write books and articles — and show their ignorance. If they merely 
spouted the feverish air that constitutes their hysterical knowledge, 
they might get by, for scenario editors are only fallible — and fall- 
ible. But, you see, generally they give themselves — and their work 
— away. However, we're digressing, whatever that means. This 
article started out in life to be a talk to the exhibitor about scenarios. 
(Editor's remark — Pipe the clever kid.) It may grow up into some- 
thing a great deal more annoying. It must be an awful thing to 
bring up brain-children. But if it does, I'll disown it and compel 

Brother Bedding to be blamed for it. Bedding is a professional 
martyr, anyhow. 

I know you exhibitors haven't much to do besides running the 
show and worry about your books and calling the operator up to 
call him down and arguing with the public and calling the usher 
names and early in the morning ducking exchange men and putting 
the persevering patrons off the preserves so as to avoid a jam — get 
it?— and a few other trifling details of that nationality, so I thought 
I would ask you to write me letters. But anxiety to see that you 
are kept busy doesn't alone actuate my motive. There's method 
to my sadness. You exhibitors are a mighty factor in the motion 
picture industry — I might say, the mightiest factor. No, this isn't 
excited language; it's just just. The manufacturer has consulted 
you at every stage and in every detail of the motion picture's evo- 
lution. There's an old saw to the effect that there's no use in giving 
advice, because wise men don't need it. and fools don't take it any- 
how. You exhibitors have proven that that isn't always every time 
the case. The manufacturer has not alone sought your advice, but 
he has accepted and utilized it. The many radical improvements 
attained in the manufacturing branch of the industry are to-day 
a fact instead of a lack because of your suggestions and counsel. 
But one department of the industry, and a very essential and deli- 
cate department, if I may be permitted to say so, the scenario de- 
partment, you have neglected. We're here — Hal and his staff — to 
select scenarios from the thousands that are submitted weekly. We 
have a pretty good idea of what a story is and what is not a good 
story, but we'd like to get just the kind you and your patrons want. 
If you'll casually tell us the kind that you notice appeals, we'll try 
to stock up with that particular variety. We realize that different 
sections of the country favor different types of stories, but we'll 
try to strike a happy average, and the result may please — who 

Joe signs, "Respectfully, SCENARIO DEPARTMENT, Per Joe 
Roach.". The above scramble of words apears in "The Universal 
Weekly," the ublicity organ of the Universal combine. 

We've never met Joe Roach, but when we go to New York we 
are going to hunt him up. A bird and a bottle (without women — I 
want to talk) will go good. In his article, you will note that he men- 
tions "Hal." Now he means Hjal Reid, the "ten-twent-thirt" boy 
of days gone by. Hal, the man who shot from Vita to Reli and 
thence to Uni. But they say a prophet is without honor, so I won't 
say that I bet he wouldn't stick. 

Is this a take-off? 

At The Vitagraph Studio 


A Little Inside Information on the Way Scenario Matters Are 
Handled Inside the Studio 

ERY little is known by the average photo playwright of 

the procedure inside a photoplay studio, especially in the 

manuscript department. The following letter from the 

Vitagraph Company will prove of great interest to all 

who have submitted scripts to this concern. These are 

cold-blooded facts, and if you desire your next script to 

"get by," see that it is right — arrange it so it can run the gauntlet 

of the readers, the editors, the owners and the directors. Here, then, 

is the letter: 

"According to a strict rule of the Vitagraph Company, all man- 
uscript to go through the Manuscript Department, whether addressed 
to the heads of the firm, the editors, or the directors, i. e., each 
manuscript received by us is first read by one of the readers. The 
possible manuscripts are sorted out and given to the editor. These 
the editor reads carefully, and selects from them, those of which 
she approves. Some of them the editor submits to Mr. Smith, others 
to Mr. Blackton, for final consideration for purchase. Their tastes 
in photoplay stories differ so much that the editor can usually judge 
which will appeal to either of these gentlemen. 

"If the editor makes a special point of a certain scenario, stat- 
ing that she knows she can make something out of it, they will 
sometimes purchase it, even if they do not quite "see" it at the time 
— but the matter rests entirely in their hands. Messrs. Smith and 
Blackton make notes on a slip of paper pinned at the side of the 
manuscript, as to what corrections or changes of business or plot 
they consider necessary, or they leave the matter to the editor's dis- 

"One of the assistants or the editor in person then recon- 
structs. These reconstructions are in turn submitted for a final okay 
to Mr. Blackton or Mr. Smith, and when that okay is put upon them, 
neither directors, actors, or editor, may make any changes without 
consulting Mr. Blackton or Mr. Smith, although any improvement 
suggested is gladly welcomed — if improvement it be. 

"Any director who strictly follows the script after it has been 
okayed by Mr. Smith or Mr. Blackton, can not go very far wrong; 
in fact, from what we have heard, our manuscripts are infinitely 

more carefully constructed, and more complete in every detail than 
those of the other companies. 

"Every actor and actress who has a prominent part is permitted 
to study the script that they may become familiar with the part, and 
for this purpose a copy is always kept in the Manuscript Department. 

"Because of this sifting and sorting of manuscripts, as you may 
imagine, it is only the survival of the fittest that are released." 

To explain to the reader: Mr. A. E. Smith is treasurer and bus- 
iness manager of the Vitagraph Company; Mr. J. Sturart Blackton 
is vice-president and secretary. 


. . Facts of Indterest About Photoplays and Photo Playwrights. . . 
Mr. J. Van Buren Powell, one of the contributors to the little 
monthly, "The Photoplay Author," mentioned elsewhere in this is- 
sue, is the author of "Susan Susan," a recent Vitagraph comedy 
drama that hits the spot. We know a good photoplay when we see 
one and Mr. Powell has nailed a good one to the cross. 

"The Redemption of Red Rube" is a Western by Mr. W. Han- 
son Durham, who contributes the chief article to this issue of the 
magazine. If our subscribers will study the work of men like Mr. 
Powell and Mr. Durham, they will soon see their mistakes. 

There is going to be some mighty good material in the Septem- 
ber issue of "The Photo Playwright." Send us your subscription 
to-day, if possible, otherwise, to-morrow will do. 

My good old friend, John M. Bradlet of Chicago, and who is 
now engaged in issuing a moving picture guide, is still getting his 
ideas across. "The Miller of Burgundy," a dramatic costume play 
by Selig, is really -a clever bit of a story. Congratulations, John. 
By the way, are you carrying out your idea of using the camera to 
take the strong scene to submit with your script? Is it practical? 
Mr. A. W. Thomas in "The Photoplay Magazine," says: 
Much has been said lately concerning the question as to whether 
the successful fiction writers should bet into the game of photoplay 
writing. They should. But will they? Is the remuneration a 
sufficient incentive to warrant them in doing so? On the other hand, 
would it not be natural for the fiction writers to first work over their 
rejected story manuscripts in to picture plays, submit them to the 
editor and await results instead of immediately forming and writing 
an entirely new story? As magazines increase in number and conse- 
quently the demand for stories grows better, will not the demand 
for picture plays be as great? It will be greater. That's the reason 
we have been advising writers to "stick to the game." Some of 
them are going to get berths that will be snug and comfortable. 
Fiction writers may get into the work, but at this time it looks as 


though the ones on whom the film producers will have to depend 
are the photoplaywrights of today and the ones who "stick in the 

That sounds like good gospel to us , Mr. Thomas. 

"The Photoplay Magazine" certainly flays the correspondence 
course schools. In the course of its just tirade on the schools of- 
fering courses for $50, $30 and lesser amounts down to $5, it says: 

"If the right kind of authors would get the proper encourage- 
ment there would be better pictures made every day than those we 
see, which contain the same old theme of the eternal triangle." 

And in another paragraph, the writer remarks: 

"It is true that the illiterate are attracted by flashing adver- 
tisements of how to make $50.00 weekly by writing photoplays, 
and they tr ytheir efforts, much to the discomfort of the editors." 

In this respect, we call your attention to our own advertise- 
ment, which appears in a number of the widely circulated maga- 

WRITERS — Send for copy of "The Photo Playwright" maga- 
zine and information about our book "How to Write and Market 
Picture Plays." Contains information and hints worth a good many 
dollars to scenario writers. Photoplay Enterprise Assn., Dept. M., 
Boonville, Ind. 

The above appeals only to writers and promises nothing to the 
illiterate. It doesn't say, "You can write them." Ours is a fair 
and square proposition. Please note that we appeal to just the 
class of people the writer in "The Photoplay Magazine" says should 
be encouraged to get into the game. Surely "The Photo Playwright 
will encourage the average writer. 

In the prize scenario contest just closed, in whic hthe Powers 
branch of the Universal Film Manufacturing Company offered splen- 
did inducements to writers of the silent drama, some excellent 
stories were submitted in competition, many of which have been 
purchased and will be produced as soon as possible. 

In all something like 500 manuscripts were submitted, prob- 
ably the largest number ever offered in a competition of this sort. 
They were all read and passed upon by the readers and writers com- 
prising the scenario department of the Universal Film Manufactur- 
ing Company, which work involved much time and consideration. 
It was quite di . . cult to make a choice in the prize winners, so many 
excellent scripts being in competition. After due consideration the 
prize winners are announced as follows: 

First prize, "The Key of Life," written by James Carroll, of 108 
Madison Street, New York City. 

Second prize, "The Crucifix of Destiny," by R. D. Armstrong, of 
Santa Barbara, Cal. 

Third prize, "The Doctor's Secret," a drama written by Dr. J. R. 
Clemons, 3 720 West Pine Street. St. Louis, Mo. 

Fourth price, "The End of the Straight Road," written by Jere 
F. Looney ,3750 West Pine Boulevard, St. Louis, Mo. 

The four prize winners are all splendid stories written by ex- 
perienced and successful scenario writers and the scenario depart- 
ment is eminently pleased with the result of the contest, which bas 
brought some excellent manuscripts. 


Brass Tack Talks 

OLITICS and "Big Business" have 
come very near getting the best of 
this issue of the magazine. Last 
month I told you about the Chi- 
cago convention — now it is some- 
thing else. You see I didn't think 
I would have the pleasure of being one of the 
founders of a new party. I thought I was a 
Republican. But as time changes, we change, 
as do the demands of the film manufacturers. 
But I am a Progressive, and so strong that I would take a ribbon 
as a bull moose. For that reason, and various others, I have been 
named bull moose chairman in the First Indiana District. I have 
the organization to look after in six big counties, and it's a good 
hard job. But working for men like Theodore Roosevelt and Al- 
bert J. Beveridge is worth while, and take it from me, I may put 
something across down this way. 

As to the "Big Business" part — well, there are some mighty 
big plans on foot that will make the people realize the real value 
of "The Photoplay Enterprise Association." In due time we will 
let our readers in on the subject — probably next month. You'll 
have to wait. 

Commencing with next month's issue of "The Photo Play- 
wright" you will have a new editor, although I will (probably) con- 
tinue to contribute this "brass tack" department. 

John W. Kellette, of Madison, N. J., writes me as follows: 
"In your May issue, under the caption "Justice for Adler," 
you still left a sting of injustice when you wrote * * "We thank 
Mr. Adler, knowing that it has come from the proper source, whether 
it is right or wrong." Now, in justice to Adler, whom I know, as 
my place of business is New Rochelle. I hunted up the genial pub- 
licity man one afternoon and asked if he had read the April issue 
of the Photo Playwright, and he said he had and had replied to it, 
but that you still thought it "hokum." As a matter of fact, if you 
could look in upon Adler any afternoon, dictating letters to his 
stenographer, giving orders for printing and advertisements, etc., 
you'd wonder how he'd find time "to step over to the scenario edi- 


tor's desk" and get the enclosure the company sends out to photo 
play writers. I have been in the Thanhouser plant several times 
and have yet to see Mr. Adler even buck up against Jay Hunt in 
suggesting how a plot should be staged or to .Harry Benham how 
the chief role should be handled. He's a mighty fine fellow, take it 
from me; cordial, not too busy to say "howdy," and an ex-news- 
paper man, which gives him that ability to be a good mixer and a 
thorough gentleman. Adler puts so much time into the publicity 
end that the Thanhouser "Sunday release" is becoming quite a fea- 

Mr. Adler and the editor have become great friends, Mr. Kel- 
lette. We never intend to quarrel with him again. 

Some of you photo playwrights who have ideas — send us your 
experiences for publication. Anything that is good is worth print- 
ing, and if you are not too stingy, we will be glad to print your let- 
ters in full. 

Under the head of "Got 'Em Tangled," William Lord Wright, 
of "The Moving Picture News," writes: 

When the editor of an Indiana monthly publication for picture- 
playwrights first heard of Giles R. Warren, "he was with Lubin! 
Then he migrated to the Imp staff, then back to Lubin, thence to 
Powers." Then, to quote a little farther down the column: "C. B. 
Hoadley won fourth prize in the Imp Scenario Contest, following 
which Mr. Hoadley became Imp scenario editor." Warren was pre- 
siding genius at the Imp plant three years ago, leaving that com- 
pany for a desk at Lubinville. Hoadley succeded Warren at the Imp 
studio long before he wrote "Chesty Buys Tags." We're just straight- 
ening out the tangle so both gentlemen can find themselves. 

That is what we want, William. When we are wrong, call us 
down. We want the "truth, and nothing but the truth." 

A client writes: "I wish to know if there has been any photo- 
plays produced or written portraying the courtship of Miles Standish. 
Would it be a desirable subject?" 

Yes, it has been a desirable subject. "Everybody's doing it." 

My brain is numb — I've sold five scenarios this month and 

written eight. They are out with the manufacturers just now. I've 

organized three counties. I've attended a state convention. I've 
been in some forty meetings. Let me off until September. 

I'm for the photo playwright who writes because he likes to 
write and writes when he really hasn't the time, because the idea 
is in him. 

Yours for photoplays 

The Clearing House 

MAN from way out in Spokane writes us the following 
healthy letter: 

I have just received the last two copies of "The 

Photoplaywright" and your hook, "How to Write and 

Market Moving Picture Plays." After having read 

them, I want to send you this expression of my regard, 

as I have purchased everything in print on the subject and there is 

nothing that can compare with yours, for your hook is far superior 

to that by Mr. Sargent. 

Having thus butted into the field, I am of course anxious to 
get everything bearing upon the art of the photoplay. I have in 
the past been an indifferent contributor of short stories and such 
matter to many magazines, and wrote my first picture play last 
June, forwarding it to the Edison Company. In this regard, I wish 
you could do something toward making manufacturers come through 
with decisions in a reasonable length of time. I have received no 
reply from my photoplay yet, after a month and a half has elapsed. 
This seems to me unreasonable. The average magazine editor is 
fully as busy as the photoplay editor, yet I never had Munsey keep 
a story longer than two weeks. This is one thing that will certain- 
ly discourage writers from other fields from essaying this form, and 
judging from the general run of photoplays seen in the houses, I 
am of the opinion that manufacturers generally are suffering from a 
paucity in the idea crop. One would think they would be anxious 
to encourage the submission of manuscripts. 

Having been in the publishing business myself in the past, I 
know what you are up against with your new magazine, and I am 
right here to say that you have the support of one western genius 
which has not yet been nipped in the bud. I am with you. You 
are tackling a hard game when you try to build up your publication, 
but I shall certainly send you some photoplays for an opinion, as I 
can readily see that what you know about your business is abso- 
lutely comprehensive. I presume that part of your work will recoup 
you for the expense of your magazine, but here's hoping — for my 
own good and that of many other aspiring dramatists — that you 
make it stick, in the vernacular of the street. 

By the way, isn't the starving-daughter and the "crewel" rent- 
man idea just about old enough to be presented with a razor? I 


believe I have seen it worked at least three times in the last month. 
And just as soon as the rent-man is appeased, the starving daughter 
gets well, jumps out of bed, comes down front and weeps real tears 
of joy. I think that if this keeps up the matter should be called 
to the attention of the American ,Medical Association so that the 
payment of rent will be generally prescribed for children's ail- 

Accept my best wishes for your success, and if you feel your 
readers would like to have you reprint my opinion of you and your 
work, kindly omit my name, for I am an attorney in the day time, 
and a photoplaywright only in the we-sma' hours, and I have some 
hard-headed clients who could hardly "see" me in the light of a 
writer of any form of drama. 

Why not print in your publication each month, one or two com- 
pleted scenarios, with synopsis, by expert authors like Bannister 
Merwin, getting the original scripts, or copies? The aspiring play- 
wright might then, for. training, write from the synopsis a scenario 
as he would construct it, and thus learn wherein he is weak, by com- 
paring with the published one. 

I notice you are recommending this method, which, by the way, 
is the way in which Benjamin Franklin learned to write good Eng- 
lish. The best producers ought to be willing to allow you this privi- 
lege for the good it would do the mass of writers in developing origi- 
nality and proper form. 

Spokane, your suggestion is truly a good suggestion. In our 
September issue we will publish a scenario by an expert author, said 
expert being a person of much respect among the producers. You 
thought of this ahead of us. Your letter was four days in coming. 
On the day before we received it we wrote for said scenario. Of 
course we had it in mind for some time and was debating whether to 
publish one of our own accepted scripts (sixty dollar boy) or get a 
script from some of the studio pikers who have bobbed up since Carl 
Laemmle (who used to furnish me film service) and Pat Powers 
have raised hell. 

You see, there are some scenario editors who know their busi- 
ness and there are some who do not, and these "do not" boys are 
howling because books have been written, published, sold and money 

i, the editor, (please notice that I use a little i) wanted an 
editor to help me recently, and one of these peanut scribblers who is 
writing con dope from a studio asked for a "job." More so, he 
wanted only $15.00 a week to start. So it is easy to see just w r hat 
standard some of the manufacturers are hitting. 

Oh, you fifteen dollar a week boys. I can make that much beg- 
ging on the streets or selling penny pencils. Go hack to your shoe- 
strings and give way to the writers. 

Back to Spokane — Say, Spokane, write us again. 


Magazine Comment 

The September issue of "The Railroad Man's Magazine," pub- 
lished by Munsey and for sale at all news stands, contains an ex- 
cellent article on the moving picture. It is titled, "Setting the Stage 
for a Drama of the Rail," and is illustrated. It is written by Gilson 
Willets. The article is well worth your time and the price of the 

The August issue of "The Photoplay Magazine" is truly a won- 
der. It hits the high water mark in having for a cover design, an 
actual scene from a photoplay, which is printed in three colors. Be- 
sides, it contains some excellent articles on scenario writing that 
• should be read by all students of the photoplay. The improvement 
in this magazine during the past few months is wonderful, and the 
subscription price is low. Buy your first copy to-day and find out 
for yourself. For sale at all news stands. 

"The Dramatic Mirror," a weekly devoted to the theater and 
things dramatic, has been giving the photoplay unusual considera- 
tion of late. It has published lengthy articles on Miss Florence Law- 
rence and Blanche Walsh, photoplay stars, and states that it will 
continue its good work. It contains a department for script writers. 

William Lord Wright, in "The Moving Picture News," is giv- 
ing the photo playwrights some crispy information on the editors 
of the various film companies. Mr. Wright's comments on things 
pertaining to the script writer are worth reading. 

Epes Winthrop Sargent, editor of "The Photoplaywright" de- 
partment in "Moving Picture World," is planning the holding of a 
dinner for photo playwrights. He expects to have the attendance 
of as many of the sincere script writers as is possible. Mr. Sargent 
plans to hold the affair some time in September. The department 
for the script writer in "The Moving Picture World" is improving 
of late, although Mr. Sargent still has spells of indigestion. 

"The Photoplay Author," published at Chicopee, Mass., com- 
bines the July and August issues into one issue. It is well edited 
and contains some excellent contributions from Miss Rubenstein 
and Mr. A. Van Buren Powell. Mr. Sargent, in an article, explains 
why he wrote "The Technique of the Photoplay," an instruction 
boo kon scenario writing. While the magazine, "The Photoplay 
Author," is truly a small affair ,it promises much and looks the 
goods. It thinks, however, that all other publications knock it and 
the editor evidently says a lot of nasty things to himself. He says: 
"This is the original magazine published for the uplift and advance- 
ment of Photoplay Authors, and is neither connected with any firm 
or jobbers of Instruction for Photoplaywrights, nor is it published 
for the promotion of book schemes. It's Original It Doesn't "Crib.' 
It Gets the Goods, and Pays for Them!" 

Has anybody charged the magazine with those offenses, or is 
the editor a pessimist? Come on, be a sport, old fellow. Meet me 
in Chicago at the Exhibitor's National Convention and exchange 


The Photoplay Mart 

HIS department is just as complete and authentic as it 
is possible to make it. Under this head we publish 
each month the names and correct addresses of the mo- 
tion picture manufacturers who are in the market for 
playscripts. The information given here can be relied 
upon as a general statement of the wants of the various manufac- 
turers, since we secure statements from the manufacturers for the 
compilation of this department. There is just one way to keep in 
touch with the photoplay market, and that is through the advices 
printed herein month by month. Now and then an error creeps 
into these reports owing to the sudden changes in the needs of the 
manufacturers. However, this list is a criterion of the wants just 
at this time and probably will hold good throughout the month of 
MELIES CO., Santa Paula, Calif. 

The following letter has been received from the scenario edi- 
tor of The Melies Company, which explains itself: "As this 
company is going on a trip to the orient, expecting to be gone 
at least a year, we desire that no scripts will be submitted to 
us during that time. It will save your subscribers time and 
money if you will leave our name out of your buying list." 
The following clipped from one of the moving picture trade 
journals, is more explicit about the Melies' dash into the 

"Gaston Melies, accompanied by about 20 members of his 
producing company, is to sail from San Francisco July 24 
for a trip around the world. It is expected that the trip will 
occupy from two to three years. The company is to travel 
leisurely, according to Mr. Melies, stopping indefinitely wher- 
ever they find interesting backgrounds or subjects. The first 
stop is to be at Tahiti. Prom thence they will go to New Zea- 
land and Australia. There are no plans at present beyond 
Australia except that Mr. Melies has a vague intention of cruis- 
ing around among the other romantic South Sea Islands in 
search of fresh material and possibly going on from there to 
photograph the mysteries of Asia." 
Ave., Brooklyn, N. Y. 

Good strong wholesome dramatic plots are wanted. Must 
have one good scene which will hold the audience breathless. 
Plots may be dramatic or melo-dramatic. This applies to 
Western and society stuff. Crisp comedies of a farcial nature 
wanted for half reel photoplays. No spectacular three reel 
stuff wanted, as it is supplied by the studio writers. Two 


weeks to decide if manuscript has any possibilities, otherwise, 
immediate return of script. Pay from $15 to $50. 

PATHE FRERES, 1-3-5 Congress St., Jersey City Heights, N. J. 

Most of the Indian and Western photoplays produced by this 
company are written by the company's own editor or members 
of the producing staff. Intense emotional and heart interest 
dramas will be considered. Must have American atmosphere. 
No costume plays wanted. 

THE KALEM COMPANY, 235 West 2 3rd St., New York, N. Y. 

Historic scripts will be considered. Good strong virile war 
tales will be purchased. Spanish and Mexican plots will get 
a reading. Dramas of business life also desired. Plot must 
be strong with good possibilities for dramatic rendition. A 
week is required to consider a script, and even longer if it pre- 
sents a good face to the first of the readers. 

NESTOR FILM CO., Hollywood, Calif. 

Split reel comedies, either farce or otherwise, that are real 
laugh producers. Can also use strong dramatic Western 
stories. Quick action promised. 

VICTOR FILM CO, 575 Eleventh Ave., New York, N. Y. 

Desires good strong dramas calling for both indoor and out- 
door scenes that are adaptable to the work of Miss Florence 
Lawrence and Victor Moore. Send scripts to the Victor edi- 
tor (not to Universal) for consideration. Good pay promised 
for good scripts. 

SOLAX CO., Fort Lee, N. J. 

They offer good prices for genuine comedies, either farce or 
story (no chase stuff) also desire big human life dramas that 
have plenty dramatic clashes. Require ten days to consider 

REX MOTION PICTURE MFG. CO., 573 Eleventh Ave., New York, 
N. Y. 

They want the big stuff — generally they like stories dealing 
with the triangle. Morals are pointed out in all Rex photo- 
plays. Fifteen days for consideration. 

MAJESTIC MOTION PICTURE CO., 54 West 21st St., New York, 
N. Y. 

Now and then they will buy a dramatic script, but their ef- 
forts are centered on producing the best comedies possible. 
Will consider both farce and story scripts. Want rural come- 
dies and dramas, also. 

REPUBLIC FILM CO., 145 West 45th St., New York, N. Y. 

Plots calling for strong, vital dramatic situations are desired 
by this company. The story must be unusual and not call for 
too many characters. 

ECLAIR FILM CO., Linwood Ave., Fort Lee, N. J. 

Buying dramatic and comedy scripts. Dramas should be for 
full reel and comedies for split reel productions. 

CHAMPION FILM MFG. CO., 12 East 15th St., New York, N. Y. 
Comedies and Western dramas. Split and full reels. 

IMP FILMS CO., No. 1 Union Square, New York, N. Y. 

See the demands of the Universal Co., and scripts intended 


for the -"Imp" editor's consideration should he sent to the 
Universal company. See their address above. 

LUBIN MANUFACTURING CO., Indiana Ave., Philadelphia, Pa. 

Strong original society dramas, those containing heart inter- 
est mostly desired, also comedies which have plenty of real 
live humor. The essential thing is originality of theme, no 
matter in what environment it is worked out. 

THOMAS A. EDISON, INC., 2 826 Decatur Ave., Bedford Park, New 
York, N. Y. 

Desires scripts detailing quick action comedy. Comedy dramas 
are ecceptable. Strong and appealing dramas of American 
life are also desired, but they must have an exceptionally 
strong climax. Historic incidents are available. Do not try 
to put something over on this company for they are prepared 
to nail you. Name of author is placed on film, advertising 
poster, bulletins, etc. Good pay. 

SELIG POLYSCOPE CO., 20 East Randolph St., Chicago, 111. 

No statement has been secured from the company, but we have 
learned from our subscribers that they are purchasing more 
scripts from outsiders than heretofore. They desire unique 
dramatic stuff. Good strong dramatic tales of every day life 
are produced, but w'e can't say for how long this will keep 
up. Their own staff of writers handle most of the Western 

Chicago, 111. 

Human interest plots will be considered. Now and then they 
produce a society play. Need not send them any Western 
stuff. Little child stories seem to be liked. Unable to secure 
statement from editor for this issue. 

UNIVERSAL FILM MFG. CO., 1 Union Square, New York, N. Y. 

Owing to the splits, the ruptures and other breaks, we do not 
group the various Independent companies this month under 
the Universal banner. We give each company separately and 
suggest that the script writer use his own judgment. The 
Universal to-day does not represent the same companies it did 
a month ago. The Universal's wants are unchanged. They 
still advertise as follows: 

"We are in the market for high class scenarios, covering com- 
edy , split and single reels, drama, and sensational and western 
one and two reels. The minimum price paid for a single reel 
Scenario is $25.00, and for short, split reel scenarios, $15.00. 
If your scenario is not worth these amounts, do not submit it. 
Manuscripts should be typewritten, and return postage en- 

AMERICAN FILM MFG. CO., Ashland Block, Chicago, 111. 

Intense emotional stories of American life, replete with strong 
vital dramatic situations. Novelty and originality in both 
theme and situation are requisite factors to be considered. Can 
also use good clean cut comedies for split and full reels. Name 
of author is placed on the film. Immediate consideration 
given all manuscripts and excellent pay for the exceptional 


POWERS MOTION PICTURE CO., 41C to 422 W. 216th St., New 
York, N. Y. 

Always in the market for the best in the dramatic line. Also 
buy comedies. 



The latest concern to seek fame as a maker of motion pictures 
is the Bradley Film Manufacturing Company of New York. Will K. 
Bradley, magazine writer and photoplaywright, with a few other 
picture men of New York, are backing the new venture. Bradley 
announces that he will probably be able to furnish the new com- 
pany with all the scenarios it will need, as he has about two hun- 
dred or more in preparation. The "Bradleyized" picture should be 
a distinct novelty. 


George W. Terwilliger, editor Reliance Motion Pictures Company, 
has discovered many "new" writers and is himself an able and versa- 
tile writer. If a script merits $75 or $100 you will get that price 
for it. Terwilliger is a man of his word and has a circle of picture- 
playwrights who are well satisfied to submit their work first for his 
consideration. He writes as follows: 

"Mr. Tony O'Sullivan and myself will handle the regular re- 
leases hereafter. You may say that the pictureplays we have been 
getting have been very far below the standard. I do not know 
how to explain this, except the majority of the best writers kne wwe 
were buying but little material the past few weeks. We are now 
in the market again and former prices quoted still prevail. We 
have just made arrangements with Mr. James Oliver Curwood for 
the rights of his 'Philip Steele' stories. Mr. Curwood, as you know, 
is the author of 'The Honor of the Big Snows,' 'Flower of the 
North,' and 'Philip Steele,' besides many short stories concerning 
the Northwestern Mounted Police. We will produce 'Philip Steele' 
in two reels. We intend to produce a two-reel subject once a month 
and I am in the market for anything good along these lines. What 
we desire most of all, in one-reel subjects, are stories with exterior 
scenes that will permit their being taken here in th East. The ma- 
jority of the pictures that have caused comment because of their ex- 
terior beauty have been those taken among wonderful Western 
scenery. I think we have some beautiful and unusual backgrounds 
right here in the East — and I want them! We have just produced 
a series of pictures around shipyards, boats, canal boats and city 
scenes, but I do not think we have yet reached the heart of the 
East. I find your department doing a good work in helping the 
pictureplaywright — and also the script editor." — Moving Picture 


Mr. Hopp Hadley, scenario editor of the Majestic M. P. Co., 
extheatrical manager, and son of the well-known evangelist, Col. H. 
H. Hadley, was married Aug. 3 at Skowhegan, Maine, to Miss Cath- 
erine McDonnell, of Allston, Mass. — Moving Picture World. 



You know that the camera is the thing they make Motion Pic- 
tures with, but did you ever stop to think of the camera when you 
write your photoplay? Suppose that when you start to write a scene 
you do what the director does when he makes it. Look at the cam- 
era. Lots of things you do do, you won't do if you do that. 

You know — or you should know — that the present fad is for a 
large picture of the people with some background. The makers 
bring the figures so close to the camera that if the leading man 
slipped on a banana peel he would cut his eye on the rim of the 
camera. This makes for large faces and large faces make for clear- 
ness of expression. Good expression, in turn, helps out the story 
by making the emotions clear. 

In a few words bring your people close to the camera. 

To do this you will have to consider the camera before you 
start to lay out a scene. Suppose that you have a banquet table. 
Reginald is going to marry Lucille, and this is the announcement 
party. Suppose that along about the time they are serving the 
roman punch the wronged lady comes in and calls Reggie names, 
spoiling a perfectly good chance for his getting a life interest in 
a lady and some millions of dollars. 

You're just regarding the scene and not the camera. You 
picture to yourself a Avell set table. At the end there is Lucille's 
father and Lucille and Reggie and on either side eight or te nguests. 
It makes an effective setting, but when the lady with the first mort- 
gage on Reggie's affections butts into the festal scene she is going 
to be so far from the camera (at the end of the table) that you 
can't tell whether she is remonstrating with him about her frac- 
tured heart or an unpaid wash bill. 

The camera lacks the adaptability of the human eye. It does 
not make proper allowance for the fact that Gwendolyn, Reggie and 
Lucille are twenty feet back from where they should be. The scene 
is spoiled. 

Before you write the scene figure on where you are going to 
set the camera with relation to the players. You can't get it right 
and still preserve the suggestion of a, large dinner. All right! Take 
them into the parlor. Now you can swing it so that when Gwendolyn 
comes in, even though she was not invited, she can get hold of the 
affianced pair as close to the camera as optical laws will permit them 
to come. You've changed no essential fact in the story. You merely 
have played the scene where the figures are large. 

Just remember that you are writing something that is to be 
made by the camera, and count the camera first and the lay of the 
scene after you have placed the camera. Of course, there is nothing 
to prevent the photoplay editor or director from changing from 
dining-room to parlor himself, but if it is just as easy for you to do 
it, why not do it? It may help your chance of acceptance mate- 

Here's the way to work it. The camera sets about ten to twelve 
feet back of the front line of the scene. Plan your stage so that 
you can brin gyour leading players so that naturally they face the 
camera close to that front line without seeming to do so. Plan 
your scene and your camera view point first. Then figure your 
action to fit these. — Moving Picture World. 



"Jack Carlton Baker, the well-known plot writer, has now 
taken over the management of the Western Film Service, White- 
haven. Some remarkably quick work came from his pen on Friday 
last. In the streets of Whitehaven he was asked alms by a beggar 
and during a few moments conversation with this wanderer he was 
at once gifted with a smart idea for a dramatic plot. Twenty min- 
utes later the plot was completed and on its way to well-known 
manufacturers. The title of the plot is 'The Roads of Memory.' " 

The above is from "The Kinematograph and Latern Weekly," 
published in London, and below is another squib which tells about 
the high price of payment. 

"A prize of one guinea is offered to his patrons for a comedy 
picture plot by Mr. Will Linsdell, Plymouth." 

One guinea, in American money, is $4.66 2-3, which is about 
the highest price paid in England, although now and then they pay 
as high as two guineas. But in Paris, well, read this: 

Mdme. Veave Leroux d'Ennery as heiress of Adolphe d'Ennery, 
and Mr. Verne, as heir of his father, Julius Verne, claimed 10,000 
francs damages from an editor of films for the reproduction of a 
film taken from the celebrated novel of "Michael Strogoff." The 
editor has been condemned to pay a fine of 5,000 francs. 

The above information, from Monsieur P. Canegaly, of Paris, 
shows that $925.00 was paid for an idea. A franc is worth 18% 
cents in American money. However, common ideas in French are 
worth but ten francs or $1.85. 


The Victor Film Manufacturing Company wish to state that, 
as there has been a good deal of misunderstanding with regard to 
the sending of scenarios to this company, and as they are not in 
the Universial Film Company, but merely do their advertising and 
release their pictures through them, it is desirable that scenario 
writers send contributions direct to the office of the Victor Film 
Manufacturing Company, 575 11th avenue, New York city, and not 
to the Universal Company. — Moving Picture News. 


With its two Western companies, one in Santa Barbara and the 
other in Chicago, the American Film Mfg. Co. announces that it is 
in the market for some good Indian stories of one-reel length. Good 
prices will be paid for acceptable manuscripts. Writers are assured 
of courteous treatment from the American editor. 

"The Cry of the Children," a Tanhousersuccess, by Hariet Guth- 
rie Lewis, is going to have as great a vogue as "East Lynne." Just 
now the Progressive Party is making use of it, owing to the fact 
that it is an expose of child labor. In Indiana, the home of Albert 
J. Beveridge, and who is the Progressive candidate for Governor, 
the Progressive exhibitors are using it to a great advantage to them- 
selves and the Progressive Party, owing t othe fact that Mr. Bev- 
eridge is the real champion of the fight against child labor. 



Because Epes Winthrop Sargent has had more experience in 
photoplay work, editorial writing and criticising, than any other 
man of our acquaintance, we asked him why he "hammered" the 
so-called photoplay teaching schools. His answer is sufficient; it's 
plain and pointed. Sargent says: "If the fellows who conduct the 
'schools' were men who had been writing and 'putting over" their 
own photoplay work and had the real experience, there would be 
no protest, but they are not; they're simply men after the money 
regardless of experience, the one essential that maks for success in 
writing acceptable picture stories." And Sargent is right. Can the 
instructor who never whote a successful picture plot himself teach 
others to do it? — The Photoplay Magazine. 


"The Edison producer, Mr. Miller, and his wife, in company 
with the artistes, Mr. Mark McDermott and Miss Marion Nesbit, ar- 
rived in England on Monday last. They were met at Paddington 
by Mr. Cromelin, Mr. H. R. Smith and Mr. Harry Purniss. We un- 
derstand it is the intention of the Edison Company to produce films 
in England and for this reason they have taken the Barker studios 
at Ealing. Mr. Furniss will also superintend the production of his 
own and Bannister Merwin's scenarios." — London Kinematograph. 


It's action that counts in a photoplay. You are likely to get 
more for a 5,000-word short story htan for one of 1,500, but in 
the photoplay it is the length of action that counts, and whether 
you- use 1,000 or 5,000 words to detail your action, the pay will be 
the same. In writing photoplays forget the number of words, but 
remember to keep it short, and think instead of the number of 
scenes and their length. A full reel should run about eighteen 
minutes or less, according to the number of sub-titles, and that is 
the picture editor's "number of words." — The Editor. 


So many letters have come to us asking th question, 
where they can send their scenarios and who are in the mar- 
ket to receive them, and approximately what amount is paid 
for scenarios. After considerable inquiries we find that, the 
following scale among the manufacturers rules. Of course 
this scale is not to be taken as absolute, as owing to the ex- 
cellence of some scenarios much more is paid for special sub- 
jects, even as much as $100 and $150, but these are very, 
very exceptional subjects. We will revise the list from time 
to time so that those who are constantly asking may keep 
the addresses and prices on file. 


Mem orandum 




The Photo Playwright 

Your subscription will be of more 
value and encouragement to us than 
ten subscriptions a year from now. 

Everybody in the business should 
have it, for it is valuable for man 
and boy, old-timer and beginner. 

Its purpose is to assist the scenario writer and promote his 
welfare, being devoted to the best interests of picture playwrights. 
It gives such information as is desired and needed by students of 
the photoplay. 

Make All Remittances Payable To 

The Photoplay Enterprise Association 


Single Copy 15 cents 

For the Year $1.00 

Send your subscription today and get every issue. 
Send it now, if possible. 

A man is known by the company 
he keeps 

OU should throw away that rubber stamp 
you've been using. Honestly, it looks bad. 

Take a look at this 


Photo Playwright 

We will print you 250 letter heads, using good white 
coin bond paper, 8* by 11 inches in width and length, 
type display as above, for $1.50. 

You can get 250 envelopes, best grade of white Hoo- 
sier wove, with name, street address and location, for 
$150. These envelopes are 6^ by 3% inches in width 
and length. 

If you want both envelopes and paper, printed, we will 
make them to you at $2.75. 

Send your order to day. Our printing shop isn't so 
very busy this month, so we can give your order imme- 
diate attention. 

Boonville, Ind., U. S. A. 

How to Write and Market 
Moving Picture Plays 

Is undoubtedly the most far-reaching work on scenario 
writing now in print. 


"We have perused carefully and with great interest your 
book, 'How to Write and Market Moving Picture Plays,' and 
we can only endorse all that you state concerning the writing 
of moving picture plays. 

"Let us hope that all scenario writers will follow your 
instructions to the great pleasure and comfort of all moving 
picture manufacturers now compelled to read an ever increas- 
ing number of poor productions in the hope of finding a gem 
amongst them." 


"Before purchasing your book I made several attempts to write and 
sell picture plays — always failed. Up to date I have written eleven and 
sold eight, bringing me $265." — E. K. J., Indianapolis, Ind. 

"My first scenario has been purchased for $50." — A. W. B., Colorado 
Springs, Colo. 

"Yesterday's mall brought me two cheeks, one for $25, another for 
$20, being payment for two moving picture scenarios that were written 
after work hours." — C. H. R., Red Oak, Iowa. 

How to Write and Market Moving Picture Plays 


It teaches the rudiments of writing photoplay plots— ones that con- 
tain heart-throbs and hearty laughs. It teaches you how to evolve worth- 
while plots; it tells how to construct the salable scenario; what the pro- 
ducer wants, and why; how to market the manuscript. It is a complete 
mail course in picture play-writing prepared In the form of a book con- 


PHOTOPLAY KNOWLEDGE — Grammar and Spelling; Photoplay 
Terms; Photoplay Distinctions; Classification of Photoplays; Photoplay 
Ideas; What to Avoid; Camera and Studio Conditions; Photoplay Limita- 
tions; Economical Considerations; Photoplay Don'ts. 

TECHNIQUE*" OP THE PHOTOPLAY— Photoplay Construction; The 
Plot; Atmosphere and Effects; The Synopsis; A Completed Scenario; The 
Type Script; What Manufacturers Demand; Manufacturers' Names and 
Addresses; Submitting the Manuscript* Photoplay Rules. 

Price $1.50 Mailed Anywhere in the United States 

mcdci v nn TUIQ Now, ai*e you going to let $1.50 stand between 
men cut u\j imo you and this chance to get your start ln tnls 

profession? Stop right now — send for this book — it will sell your scenarios. 

Book Department 

The Photoplay Enterprise Association 


Are you one of those who have 
intended to but have not? 



|INCE April, when the first issue of The Photo 
Playwright was issued, many statements have 
been made regarding its value to the photo- 
play author. 

Some writers and others said it would prove a fake 
and a frost. But there were hundreds of others who 
were so interested that they subscribed immediately. 

These photo playwrights now know this magazine is 
the most valuable aid that can be secured. They are 
selling their scripts solely as a result of keeping in touch 
with the markets and following the advice given in every 
issue of The Photo Playwright. 

You can do the same. Don't put it off any longer. 

One Dollar 
A Year 

Send Money Order- 

we cannot use 



Boonville, Indiana, U. S. A. 


o . \9\3 


^ IS 


Vol.1 No. 6 I 

Sept.— Oct. Issue 1912 



To scenario writers who desire the proper tools for their work, 
namely, paper and envelopes, we make the following offer: 


100 sheets paper, 8%xll inches ... 

100 envelopes, No. 11 

100 envelopes, No. 10 (enclosures) 

The above order will be doubled on receipt of money order 
for $2.00. 

The envelopes mentioned above are not the ordinary cheap 
white envelopes generally used, but tough Manila envelopes — just 
the thing for mailing scenarios. 



Conditions in the moving picture world are constantly chang- 
ing; the demands of the scenario editors are many and varied with 
these changes. To keep abreast of the times, all writers should 
be regular subscribers to one or more of the reputable photoplay 
publications. We quote you the following rates: 

Moving Picture World, $2.75 


The regular price of this publication is $3.00 a year. The 
Photoplay Enterprise Association recommends it as ehe best of 
its kind printed. 

Motion Picture Story Magazine, $1.40 

A publication of a different sort — it tells the stories of the best 
photoplays in story form — finely illustrated. The regular price is 
$1.60 a year. 

The Photoplay Enterprise Association 




Vol. 1 

September, October, 1912 

No. 6 

Announcement 3 

Durham Goes to Vitagraph 4 

The Scenario Editor 5 

The Scene Twas Seen on the Screen 6 

About Photoplay Writing 7 

E. A. Arnaud 

Random Notes 8 

The Philosopher's Advice 10 

The Idea Is The Thing 11 

William Lord Wright 

The Clearing House , 14 

Brass Tack Talks 17 

The Photoplay Mart 20 

Food For Thought 12 

The Deadly Triangle 23 

it is ONE 

Copyright 1912 by 

The Photoplay Enterprise 


it is 




The Photo Playwright 

Devoted to the Interests of the Scenario Writer. 




Rates of Payment 

N. Y. Motion Picture Co., 521 West 19th St., New York, 
$15.00 up to $50.00. 

Champion Film Co., 145 West 45th St., New York, N. Y., 

Comet Film Co., 344 East 32d St., New York, N. Y., $15.00 

Eclair Film Co., 225 West 4 2d St., New York, N. Y., 
$20.00 up. 

Great Northern Film Co., 7 East 14th St., New York, N. 
Y., $20.00 up. 

Imp Films Co., 102 West 101st St., New York, $5.00 to 

R. Prieur, 10 East 15th St., New York. N. Y., imoorter 
only. No scenarios. 

Maiestic Motion Picture Co.. 540 West 21st St.. New 
York. N. Y.. $15.00 uo. 

Nestor Film Co.. Bayonne. N. J.. $15.00 no. 

Powers Motion Picture Co., 422 West 216th St . New 
York. N. Y.. $20.00. 

Reliance. 54 West 21st St.. New v rV. n. v.. $95 00 nt» 

Rex Motion Picture Mfsr. Co.. 573 Flevpnth Ave.. N^w 
York N. Y . $15.00 nn. 

Sola* Co.. Co-pfT-^QS A-up P'lncj'hi-ncr TSJ V $95 00 lit). 

TflnlimiRpr Pr\ . T\Taw "RopVioTIo. TSJ "V.. $95.00 "r». 

TRVq+nrP Rr T^r1iipci+-orsq1 "RMlm r ° ■ 1 04 Rrosnect Ave. 
Ploirolp-nrl Ohio $10 00 nn. 

("Jsmrnortt Cr\ TT'lna'hino-. M V <t 9 5 00 iin 

Pino-rrmh Film Co. 11 E?s"t 14fh St.. Npw VnrV N Y. 
$95 00 no. 

TTinmpp A. 'PVIicso'n. 920 T .oI^-pc^^a A v» . Ornno-o XT .J . 
$90 00 nn 

Foonriov "FMIrn Co . 591 "Barest Nfnfionol "Ro^v ■R'Mpr fni- 
onco. Til.. $90 00 nn. 

TTnloTTt Pn 99 5 W^of 9 9rl Qf T\To W VorV XT V $90 00 n^ 

Tnl-iin Mfo- f!o 90fh nn^ Tn^ianq A-< T «« . T'Mlon'pln'Ma 
Pn. $90 00 no. 

Ci Mei^<?. 904 F!qst ?.Rth St.. New YorV. N\ y.. valne 
$15.00 to $50.00. 

Pathe Freres. 41 West 25th St.. New YorV. N. Y.. $5 00 
to $25.00. 

Solio- Polvscone Co.. Chicaeo, T1V. $25.00 nn. 

Geo. Kline. 166 North State St., Chicago. Til., importer 
only. No scenarios reauired. 

Vitagraph Co., 116 Nassau St., New York, N. Y., $20.00 
to $75.00. 

From "The Moving Picture News." 

Vol. I SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER, 1912. No. 6 


Owing to a change in management, THE PHOTO PLAY- 
WRIGHT is somewhat delayed this month, and our readers will no- 
tice we call this issue the "September-October issues, or a "double 
number." Complete arrangements have been made whereby all 
future issues of this magaizne will be mailed on the tenth of every 
month. The November issue will be mailed to all subscribers on 
the 10th of November. We would issue THE PHOTO PLAYWRIGHT 
ahead of its date if it were possible to keep the department, "The 
Photoplay Mart," up to the minute, but wishing to give our sub- 
scribers just what they need, we hold publication until we can learn 
just what is needed for that month. 

Subscribers will receive twelve issues of THE PHOTO PLAY- 
WRIGHT for their subscription just as promised, all subscriptions 
being advanced one month. 

Next month's magazine will be the cream of them all We will 
have several worth-while articles that have been prepared especially 
for THE PHOTO PLAYWRIGHT If you are a scenario writer you'll 
want to read these articles. 

Better start your subscription to-day. 

Durham Goes to Vitagraph 

HE best news ever received at our offices was that con- 
cerning Mr. W. Hanson Durham, formerly a resident 
of Belfast, Maine, who is now a regular member of the 
Western Vitagraph Company, located at Santa Monica, 
California. Mr. Durham, you know, is the talented 
photo playwright who has contributed several very valuable articles 
to this publication, aside from penning many of the Vitagraph pho- 

By writing almost steadily and with continued success for the 
film companies, and through a conscientious study of the art of 
photoplay writing, Mr. Durham has climbed from photoplay author 
to photoplay editor. His new position will not in any way inter- 
fere with the writing of more new scenarios. In fact, when the 
Vitagraph Company engaged Mr. Durham they cornered his produc- 
tions. Previously he had been disposing of a portion of his work 
to the Kalem, the Melies and Edison companies. 

The Western studio of the Vitagraph Company is located in 
Southern California, a spot that affords splendid scenic surround- 
ings for the very best sort of Spanish, Frontier, Indian and Western 
productions. With local color on all sides and with the tales of 
romance and conquest coming from the lips of the pioneers, Mr. 
Durham is now prepared to bring forth some of his best plots. 

Acting as assistant scenario editor to Rollin S. Sturgeon, Mr. 
Durham will pass on all scripts sent to the Western studio. In a 
letter received several days ago, he says: 

"When I learn the actual needs of the Western studio in the 
way of special scenarios, I will advise you accordingly, and per- 
haps you can steer some good stuff our way. It may be possible 
that I shall be in a position later on to write you other special ar- 
ticles for your publication, but of course cannot promise to do so 

"I want to thank you for the courtesies you have extended me 
in the course of our correspondence and to assure you that I shall 
be pleased to hear direct from you (personally) whenever you care 
to write me — feeling assured of a prompt answer. I also want to 
thank you for the kind words you have written concerning myself 
and my work in your publication. If you care to mention my re- 
cent affiliation with the Vitagraph Company in your magazine you 
are at liberty to do so. It may encourage other authors to 'make 
good.' " 

This then, dear readers, is the reward for good, clean, con- 
sistent work. You can do likewise if you will keep on writing. Just 
remember that you are to please the manufacturers and not your- 
self. As to Mr. Durham, the writer of this article predicts that he 
Will go higher before many moons have passed. 

Here's to Hanson Durham* 

The Scenario Editor 

Being a Travesty in the Form of a Scenario on 
Studio Conditions 

By H. F. Jamison, 

Alexander, Arkansas. Submitted at Soup 

Box 72. and Cracker Rates. 




Scenario Editor Encyclopaedia Britt. 

Cathalantis Felinatus Office Cat. 

Editor's sanctorium. 
A cold bottle. 
A waste basket. 


Scenario Editor's sanctum. (Whatever that is; I never saw 
one.) Enter Editor. "Sore'"' over something; presumably tough 
steak for breakfast. Examines and reads correspondence. "Tears 
uncombed hair in anguish. Throws letters out of window." Kicks 
feline across room. Takes huge drink from ditto bottle. (See 
Photoplay-wright, July, 1912, page 24. Spectator's advice.) Sits 
down to business. Opens another amateur effort. (Show Letter.) 
Deer Editore? 

I know I can call yue my frind, and yores is the gratest com- 
piny I no ov. Inklozed is a sampel scenarioo which I am in hopes 

Editor throws in waste basket. Jumps with graceful monkey- 
like spring into basket on top of it. Does the turkey trot and 
Apache dance combined. Beautiful "FAITH, HOPE AND CHAR- 
ITY" expression. Exit cathalantis felinatus. Editor clambers out 
of basket. Takes another "STRAIGHT." Opens another letter. 
Photo of young lady falls out. Editor picks it up. Pretty, (lady 
I mean.) Editor quirks over it. "Oh you Kid." (Examines Scen- 
ario with sour face). Turns to Photo. Tough luck old gal. Your 
mug is O. K., but the "dope" — Oh! Lord!! Nothin' doin' ]ess ye 
got the punch. Laura Jean Libby wore that "Slush" out 'fore ye 
wus born. Sorry, — regrets — etc., but — folds scenario. 


No. 2. 


Screen — Show. 

The carrying off of little girls by Indians is assuming the pro- 
portions of a national calamity. Thousands of mammas are still un- 
able to pay the rent while their flour faced daughters still bang at 
the piano and attempt to write scenarios when they can't spell cat. 
No. 3. 

Etherial blue: 

Editor in garb of angel, white wings, bearing golden trumpet. 
No. 4. 

Abode of Mephistophelis: 

Editor discovered in garb of his Satanic Majesty spearing 
would-be authors with a large red-hot pen. 


The Scene That 'Twas Seen on 
the Screen. 

(By Andrew Joseph Sodich.) 
Curses on the villian, 
He has taken Kate away; 
But if the hero gets him, 
The price he'll have to pay. 
Gr-r-r-! ! ! she's in his power-r-r-! ! ! 
But shucks! he's not so mean, 
For it's only make believe, 
'Twas the scene that was seen on the screen. 

She was from the chorus, 

A swell beauty dressed in blue; 

I took her out to dinner, 

(As married men will do). 

Later came my finish, 

For my sweet wife serene??? 

Saw me with her in a photo film, 

'Twas the scene that was seen on the screen. 

About Photoplay Writing 

By E. A. Arnaud, Scenario Editor, The Eclair Co. 

T may be that I have selected a subject which will have 
but little appeal to some Exhibitors, yet it should not 
be. The photoplay which is being written today is what 
you are going to have to exhibit to your patrons to- 
morrow. Upon how good it will be in point of interest 
and ability to satisfy your patron rests your continued success. 

"I quite naturally feel that I am fairly qualified to discuss and 
discurse on the play in-so-far as it is part of my work to select some 
fifty to seventy-five plays and produce them in a year's time, all this 
besides passing judgment on all others. I am free to admit that I 
haven't a Divine judgment which renders me infallible against se- 
lecting the wrong play at times, that is public opinion decides it is 
wrong. It makes no difference whether the upper ten rave over it, 
if the lower ninety swear against it. If it doesn't win the plaudits 
of the 'ninety,' then it is lost from a successful producer's view 

"If I or any other man could invariably pick what is aptly 
termed a 'Sure-fire' success, he or I could name our own terms. It 
seems that the all-wise Providence never meant there should be the 
perfect judge of plays either staged or photographed. 

"We are hounded and haunted by scenarios. Every morning 
we reach the studio we find the door practically barricaded with the 
mail's deluge of plays. And we must smilingly wade through all 
of them to find perhaps a couple worthy of consideration. We are 
reading, we feel the presence of someone in our doorway and look 
up and see a scenario in the possession of a man — or 'it may be a 
woman, or child,' for 'everybody's doing it.' Holidays and Sun- 
days, they call upon us at our homes. Telephone rings and we think 
'of scenarios.' Yet, we put up with all of this most patiently and 
eagerly in the hope of finding one which will contain at least the 
scintilla of a new or fresh plot idea. 

"It has long been a notion of mine, that sooner or later a large 
share of the successful writers would spring from among the ex- 
hibitors or his theatre attaches. They are in daily contact with pic- 
ture-plays, consciously or unconsciously they are developing ideas of 
plays and their construction. They are in the best position to learn 
and feel what the public likes or seems to like. They know fairly 
accurately what ideas have and have not been done, so they will 

avoid repetition of plots. It is safe to say that a full one-third of 
the stories now written are exact duplicates of past productions. 
Whether this is just a remarkable circumstance or just a mean bold 
attempt to steal a plot in the hope of putting it over on some un- 
wary or trusting editor or director is not for me to say. However, 
the fact remains. 

"Experience brings me to the conclusion that the greater share 
of writers are not actuated by any desire to enter photoplay writ- 
ing as a means of money making, but rather they try it for the sole 
purpose of having a play of their own making produced. To most 
of them the honor (and an empty one it is, too), of having their 
scenario produced is sufficient unto their desires. For weeks they 
haunt the theatres, buying tickets for their friends to see 'my play,' 
and then they try another. This fails to be accepted and they quit 
our fields forever. 

"I am confident to predict that photoplay writing is destined 
to some day become a profession worthy of effort and embracing. 
Every big industry grinds its mill slowly. Those who are not by 
capability, qualified, must be forced out and make room for the 
writer who can make good. 

"Why don't you try?" — From "The Eclair Bulletin" to pro- 
prietors of moving picture theatres. 


E beg to announce that we will, in the near future, pub- 
lish and market a book, entitled 'The Rudiments of 
Photoplay Construction.' " 

So reads a letter being sent out by Messrs. Mika- 
loff and Swartz of McKeesport, Pa. They wind up the 
letter as follows: 

"After consideration we have decided to sell the last few pages 
as advertising space to publishers or periodicals dealing with this 
subject. We. set custom aside and offer you space in this publica- 
tion at the rate of $25.00 per page for the FIRST run of 5,000 

We have failed to learn where either of these gentlemen ever 
sold their scripts, aside from actual studio v/ork. 

Eustace Hale Ball, formerly with the Eclair Company and a scen- 
ario editor with extensive experience has launched into the scenario 

doctoring business. Mr. Ball is an able and reputable critic. We 
have just received his pamphlet, "First Aid to Scenarios," which 
outlines his plan of work. Photo Playwrights should, if they need 
help, communicate with Mr. Bali at 7080 Metropolitan Bldg., New 
York City. 

Mr. James Ashton Reid of 218 Tremont St., Boston, Mass., has 
written us as follows: 

"The Great Eastern Film Mfg. Co., 218 Tremont St., Boston, 
Mass., is in need of high class society dramas. Prompt considera- 
tion and good prices paid for all acceptable scripts." 

Our readers can try them, if they care to, although we do not 
know, as yet, just who, what and when this company is or came 
into existence. 

"The demand for good original photoplays is stronger than 
ever; however the price remains the same with exception of one or 
two companies, which demand the best." — Photoplay Magazine. 

In a recent issue of "The Moving Picture News," William Lord 
Wright says: 

"To the energetic picture playwright who persists in sending 
in stories requiring a cast of characters as long as the moral law, 
we recommend a visit to see Pathe's 'Her Son's Ingratitude.' Just 
four characters in the thousand feet of tense, convincing action." 

Hal Reid, formerly with Vitagraph, then with Reliance, next a 
scenario editor for the Universal is now with the Champion Com- 
pany as a director. We doubt if we will be able to chronicle his 
jumps during the present month. 

Is James Ashton Reid of Boston, Mass., related to Hal Reid and 
is Hal Reid interested in the Great Eastern Film Mfg. Co., of Bos- 
ton? Is Hal Reid going to be permanently connected with Cham- 
pion and is the Universal back of the Great Eastern? Is the Film 
Supply Company tired of Hal or do they intend for the Mutual to 
get him? 

It is evident the Licensed producers can do without him. 

The writer's good friend, Tom Powers of the Vitagraph Com- 
pany, is back at the studio after a three month's vacation. Mr. 
Powers, you will remember, comes from the editor's bailiwick. 

Giles R. Warren, scenario editor for the Victor Co., is direct- 
ing for this same company while arry Solter spends his vacation in 

Mr. Richard V. Spencer, writing from the Bison Company's 
Western Studio at 1707 Allesandro St., Los Angeles, Calif., says 

that he is in need of genuine Western stories. He wants the very 
best work of the very best writers and will pay big prices for the 
proper sort of material. Mr. Spencer edits all the scripts for Bison, 
Broncho and Keystone films and consequently must have lots of 
help from photo playwrights. One, two and three reel scripts will 
be considered. Good snappy somedies are desired. 

"The best 'sellers' today are comedies. Can you write a com- 
edy? Try it, for the producer will pay more attention to it just now 
than any other, for good, clean, humorous stories are scarce. Don't 
write a story simply showing a series of situations or incidents, 
chases, upsets, accidents, pranks and the like, but weave a plot 
about the situations that will bring understanding and amusement 
without resorting to the ridiculous." — Photoplay Magazine. 

The Gaumont Co., calls notice to the fact that they are not in 
need of scenarios since they do not produce any pictures in this 
country. The Gaumont studio is located in Europe and all scripts 
are purchased from writers on the other side of the Dond. 


After seeing a photoplay I always remark to myself that it is 
good, very good, bad, very bad, fine, etc., as the case may be, and I 
have often wondered what constituted a good play. I have seen 
photoplays that lacked plot, action, complications, continuity of 
thought, and all the other elements, but still I pronounced them 
good. Perhaps it is the photography as much as anything. A good 
director and a good photographer can evidently make a good play 
out of a poor story. Pine acting also tends to pull a poor story out 
of the mire. According to the works on the technique of the drama, 
a play must have rising action, falling action, a turning-point, and 
a catastrophe. First should come the introduction; second, the ris- 
ing action; third, the climax; fourth, the falling action; and fifth, 
the catastrophe. There must be a proposition, and there must be 
unity. Dramatic unity is the conformation of proposition, plot and 
action. The plot should carry out the proposition. Every good 
play should have a theme. A theme is the general subject, which 
holds throughout, but which, reduced to a specific form, becomes 
the basis of the play. Characterization is an important, but not a 
necessary element. Character is shown by what the characters do, 
not by what they say, or appear to say. Subtitles show weakness 
of construction. The spectator comes to see, not to read. Sub- 
titles at the beginning of a play are seldom comprehended ' or re- 
membered, and hence are wasted. The action should unfold natur- 
ally and logically, and subtitles should only be used to show that 
which action cannot show, or to represent lapse of time. These are 
a few of the elements of a good photoplay, as I understand it, but 
aparently all of the directors do not agree with me! — From "The 
Motion Picture Story Magaizne." 


The Idea is The Thing 

By William Lord Wright, Author of "Twixt Loyalty and Love, 
"For The Sunday Edition," and Many Others 

HE play's the thing — but so is the idea. One must have 
a striking idea or situation before the picture-play can 
be successfully written. The present consensus of opin- 
ion among the pictureplay editors is that many have 
eyes and see not, and have ears that hear not. The 
elusive idea is here, there and everywhere. The plot-germ for a 
good picture-play may be at the dooryard, and all the while the am- 
bitious author is pursuing a frantic serach elsewhere for his or her 

"I've got an idea," exclaims the author, and he chortles with 
glee. Then dismay shadows his countenance for the inspiration has 

The elusive idea — the hope that remains in Pandora's Box! 
The idea is always with us and always fleeting; it is the Tantalus 
of the pictureplaywright, the actor, and the director. 

The simplest idea for a story is the narrative of some queer 
thing that has happened in the town or neighborhood; a thought 
germ quickened into life through reading something that appeals; 
but there is also the world under our feet and above our heads. Un- 
canny things, extraordinary things, queer things are stirring all 
around us if we have the eyes to see them or the ears to hear them 
as unusual or interesting events or complications. 

Ideas for pictureplays do not usually come by mere good for- 
tune. They are the result of skill and study, power of observation 
and an eye to the romantic. 

Frankly, the elusive idea is in our elusive selves, and the in- 
cident in the book, newspaper or in the dooryard, merely aids us 
to fix our thought upon something we have been unconsciously car- 
rying about with us for years. 

If one wishes to narrate the action of sentiment or the secrets 
of life, that is human interest, he will find, according to Cody, that 
the most effective ideas for a plot are such as determine the entire 
course of some human life. An idea is good in proportion as it con- 
cerns some event that determines a man or woman's happiness or 
unhappiness. Such ideas are the basis for each of Maupassant's 
plots. The incident that Maupassant relates is the one great de- 


termining factor in the life of his principal character, and when 
that has been told there is absolutely nothing more to say of in- 
terest about that person. As Cody points out, this is clearly seen 
in "The Necklace," which is the story of the tragedy of Madam 
Loisel's life. Her life is completely altered by the event of the loss 
of the necklace. 

The elusive idea is not so elusive to the one who has had varied 
experience on life's highway. To the worldly wise it is easier to 
discover the incidents, the situations, out of which to evolve good 
plots; but if one's life has been narrow, and experience restricted, 
the search for the elusive idea must necessarily be longer and more 
disapointing. But the incident and the idea, when discovered, is 
of little value unless it means something — we must select the ideas 
as we can make use of to illustrate life's principles. 

Cody compares stories and pearls: at the very center of a 
pearl is a grain of sand about which the pearl material is gathered. 
At the very center of every shprt story or pjctureplay is the passing 
idea such as almost anyone might pick up. It may be a common 
everyday idea, not worth so much in itself, but it is a grain of gold, 
ofttimes, instead of a grain of sand, and it is the first thing the 
writer has thought of and it is the foundation upon which his fancy 
has builded. 

The enctral idea — the elusive idea, if you will — is of primary 
importance. We pass along the street with a friend. Our friend 
nods coldly to another pedestrian. Our curiosity is aroused because 
of our friend's coldness. 

"Who was that?" we query, 

-'He used to be in the penitentiary," is our friend's contemp- 
tuous answer. ■ 

The elusive idea again Have you the power to delve under 
neath the things-that-are and discover the passing grain of gold? 
Fostered and cuddled, the idea can be developed into a pictureplay 
of merit. Let us seize the idea and build from imagination's store- 

"Here is a gentlemanly appearing individual — but he is a so- 
cial outcast. He has served a term of years behind prison bars. He 
has paid his debt to society — and will pay interest thereon until 
the end of his days. The stigma of prison life will go with him to 
the uttermost ends of the earth. But was he rightfully incarcer- 
ated? No! He paid the penalty of another's crime. Circumstan- 
tial evidence was at fault in his case. The real criminal confessed 
upon his deathbed and the prisoner was pardoned. Nevertheless 
he 'has been in the penitentiary.' He has worn the prison garb. He 
is an 'ex-convict.' I can see him now going to some strange city and 
working his way to a position of responsibility. He wins the love 
of his employer's daughter. They are engaged to be married. A 
rival appears and recognizes our subject as an 'ex-jailbird.' He 
loses his position. Will the girl he loves remain true and stand 
with hi mshoulder to shoulder — or will she accept the world's ver- 
dict? She repulses the tale-bearing rival in love; tells her intended 
that his prison suit is a badge of honor, and together they bravely 
face the world." 


Ah, the elusive idea! When discovered and nursed, fancy al- 
so fondles it, and by leaps and bounds, imagination can be trained 
to build the absorbing plot and the story with a lesson to the world. 

The elusive idea may be the simple idea, but nevertheless an 
idea teeming with dramatic possibilities. Albert Webster, passing 
a bank, noticed the bank cashier with great bundles of banknotes 
close to his hand. He was impressed with the power of a bank 
cashier and the strain upon his honesty. A simple idea; maybe you 
have noticed the ban kcashier behind his wicket surrounded with 
banknotes and gold. It is the elusive idea one again — but Albert 
Webster grasped its import and utilized it in his great short story, 
"An Operation in Money." So far the idea is ommonplace enough 
but, says Cody, when we think that all a cashier has to do is to 
put a bundle of banknotes in his pocket when he goes home at night, 
and that no one will know it until next morning, and then he could 
choose to serve the maximum ten years in prison and have the 
money to enjoy the rest of his life, the situation beomes startling. 
Here were facts that anyone might know, but it remained for one 
writer to utilize their possibilities. With the original idea as a basis, 
all that is needed is skill in plot construction to develop the picture- 
play situation that may be assumed. 

It is much easier to take a ready-made incident, such as a 
judge condemning his son, a daughter shielding her father, and 
clothe them with incident, than it is to grasp the elusive idea and 
use it as a foundation for an original and striking pictureplay. It 
is the soul given the idea and the richness and taste of fancy's gar- 
ments that build up the good pictureplay. Simple ideas become in- 
spired when the writer has a wealth of material in his own heart 
and mind. 

The higher artistic qualities of the slighter plot, united with 
the greater significance and impressiveness, should be the goal tow- 
ard which every writer should ultimately aim. The influence upon 
the simpler work will give it strength and depth and the monetary 
reward will be consistent with higher artistic qualities and crafts- 

The elusive idea is the soul of the story — that element which 
makes the pictureplay significant for life, gives it a bearing on the 
problems of our existence and makes it a powerful creation, and 
causes the audience to feel rather than discover the moral lesson 
it must surely teach. 

It is the elusive idea, properly developed, that makes the fin- 
ished production sink into the minds of the observers, gives them a 
breath of the infinite, and an understanding of the meaning of life 
which they did not realize before. 

Talent, training and temperament are important factors in the 
search for the elusive idea. Those qualified are becoming more and 
more successful in their pursuit, and out of the deep wells of their 
being they are drawing the soul that will give the element to the 
coming pictureplay which means lasting fame. 

The elusive idea, O ye pictureplaywrights, is the very soul of 
inspiration, and both are necessary for true success in a new and 
novel field of literary endeavor. — From "The Moving Picture News." 


The Clearing House 

ILL W. HANSON, a photo playwright of Brooklyn, New 
York, writes us as follows: 

"Am enclosing a slip which was forwarded to me 
by the scenario editor of the Lubin Company, Mr. Mc- 
Closkey. I am sure that Mr. McCloskey will not find 
any objection to my placing this matter in your hands. 

"I have noticed that my last few rejections by the Lubin Com- 
pany did not contain the usual form of rejection blank which you 
probably have seen. (The form containing a list of reasons for re- 
jection). I mentioned, the fact in a letter to Mr. McCloskey when I 
sent my last script. The enclosed is what I received from him. 

"It is too bad that a few 'nuts' in the photo playwriting field 
should be the means of queering the game for others by their hoot- 
ing and squawking when things do not run to their liking. I be- 
lieve, and I am sure that you and others will agree with me, that 
the many amateur scenario writers have lost a good friend in the 
old Lubin rejection form, — which enabled the writer to get a line 
on the defects of his or her work. I know that it has been a great 
help to me in the past and I am quite sure that others have profited 
by the Lubin Company's courtesy. 

"I have always found the Lubin editors among the most cour- 
teous and considerate in their treatment of my work and I am sure 
hundreds of others can attest to this statement. 

"So, now Mr. Editor, out with your trusty pen and give some 
of those 'mussy nuts' a little fatherly advice against getting scrappy 
and 'het' up when their piffle and junk is turned down by people 
who know their business and who are paid accordingly." 

The rejection slip from the Lubin Company, to which Mr. Han- 
son refers is about 5V 2 by inches in width and length. Across the 
top is printed, "Lubin Manufacturing Company," which follows in 
smaller type, "Scenario Department." The rejection statement, 
reading as follows, is beneath the two lines mentioned above: "The 
Editor regrets that the Manuscript herewith enclosed is not avail- 
able for the use of this Company at the present time." All of this 
printed matter takes up about one-half the page, the remainder be- 
ing left blank for the scenario editor's remarks. In this case, Mr. 
L. S. McCloskey, says: "More gruesome than humorous. Printed 
rejection slip is a failure. While a few profited by it, many 'nuts' 
took occasion to argue our criticisms. We are glad to give a word 


of advice where it will help — note form of this slip which allows 
space for same. — L. S. McCloskey." 

A friend from Muskogee, Okla., writes as follows: "Won't 
you please write this story for the Vitagraph Company, entitled, 'A 
Soldier and A Chorus Girl.' I want to see it played the way it is 

The writer encloses a sixteen page story torn from Pearson's 
magazine. The name of the real author is scratched off. 

Don't ever think you can get a film company to produce a copy- 
righted story like "A Soldier and A Chorus Girl." Besides, don't 
steal a plot. If you can't be original, don't write. 

A subscriber writes and encloses the following questions: 

1. Why is it that the Edison Company should keep two scen- 
arios for consideration, one for six weeks and one for eight weeks 
and then return both? 

2. How acceptable are stories from the U. S. wars, generally 
speaking, of course, if good? I presume they must touch or build 
about well known incidents, not treated on previously. I also de- 
sire to know as to the rate of payment. Are military scripts con- 
sidered equal to modern stories? 

3. What companies will consider such war stories? 

To the first question, we reply that the Edison Company is a 
little slow in returning scripts, but it proves to the writer that his 
script was passed on by the first reader and was handed over to 
the scenario editor and the director to be read, besides other read- 
ers who okay or kill, as they see fit. Your plays failed to pass final 

As to military subjects, we feel that you can sell a really good 
scenario with almost any of the companies. U. S. war stuff is ac- 
ceptable to Lubin, Vitagraph, Kalem, Bison, Selig and several oth- 
ers , although very little is produced relative to the Spanish-Amer- 
ican War. Payment is very good for really good scenarios of this 
sort. Most of the military plays produced are prepared in the com- 
pany's studios by their own staff of writers. 

"Is there such a thing as a 'Union' of photo playwrights' 
asks a subscriber from Rhode Island. 
Yes, but touch not. 

A subscriber living at San Gabriel, Calif., wants to know the 
names and addresses of motion picture companies maintaining stu- 
dios in the vicinity of Los Angeles. We refer you to "The Photoplay 
Mart," and ask all other persons who want to send in such questions 
to open their eyes before quizzing. 

Minnesota says: "I have just read in 'The Moving Picture 
World' that it is a good plan to keep at work until you have fif- 
teen or twenty scripts going the rounds. Professional fiction writers 
keep from twenty to fifty manuscripts out all the time if they look 


for real returns. Please let rne know if it is a good plan to comply 
with the above?" 

Yes and no. If your scripts are properly prepared and really 
good, then keep them going all of the time and keep lots of 'em 
out. But it isn't the keeping of 'em out that counts. It's what's in 
'em. It will not hurt to have a hundred scripts out at one time. 
Listen, Minnesota: Dcs t write more than a dozen scripts. Sell 
one before you write any more. Keep the others going, but im- 
prove them as they come back home. Also, always enclose a re- 
turn envelope, self addressed and sufficiently stamped. That is the 
wise thing to do when keeping 'em out. 

Franklin, Indiana, inquires as follows: 

"May a writer use a non-de-plume? (What do you want to 
use a bogus name for? Yes, if you want to.) 

"What directions does a writer use when he wants a close 
view of two persons, or of a photograph, book, etc?" (Merely 
state that the scene calls for a close view. A close view is some- 
times called a bust, and again an enlarged view.) 

"What is the best way to learn to express the actions of the 
characters?" (Study the sample scenario in our new book, "How 
to Write Photoplays That Sell.") 

"Please tell me if a letter or an advertisement in a paper are 
to be indicated in a manuscript as scenes within themselves?" 

So asks a photo playwright from Massachusetts. 

Yes. Study the films. Don't they break in, and are they not com- 
plete in themselves? 

"I have just completed a moving picture story, 'A Cow Punch- 
er's Sacrifice.' It is a story of the price paid by a man who truly 
loved a woman, who realized that the woman he loved, loved an- 
other who was unworthy of her love." 

Oh love, you are surely an awful thing. 

But our quizzer wants to know if the plot is a good one. We 
can't say. You had better try it out on the dog. Send it to some 
poor editor who never receives any of these love tales. 

By the way, we have heard it said that some of the companies 
are going to stop producing plots with love themes. We don't be- 
lieve it. 

See you on the 10th day of November, which is five days after 
Teddy is elected. Get me? 


"Neptune's Daughter," an Essanay success, was written by 
Martha Russell, a member of the Essanay Stock Company. Be- 
sides writing the piece, Miss Russell assumes the leading role. 


Brass Talk Talks 



HE PHOTO PLAYWRIGHT is more than a magazine for 
the scenario writer. Its value to you does not end when 
you have finished reading its text pages. The contents 
of each issue is merely the beginning of the service that 
THE PHOTO PLAYWRIGHT is ready to give to its 

Many times I have emphasized this service idea behind THE 
PHOTO PLAYWRIGHT. And in nearly every article and every de- 
partment in this maga'zine, our editors tell you that you can get from 
our office additional information and help on any subject pertain- 
ing to the writing of photoplays. Both the authors who write the 
articles and our regular editorial staff are ready to give you any 
additional information that they have concerning any point or idea 
that has been published. 

If you want to know something about picture play writing, ask 
us. We will do our very best — give you our personal service. 

This issue of THE PHOTO PLAYWRIGHT is a double number, 
being the combined September and October numbers. Commenc- 
ing with the November number, we will mail this publication on 
the tenth of the month. Our facilities have been perfected to get 
the magazine out regularly and we trust our subscribers will par- 
don the recent delay. 

Do not send out everything you write unless you are convinced 
that your last script is better than any of your previous efforts. But 
keep on writing and keep the very best out all of the time. As the 
stuff comes home, revise and build anew. If you can't improve it, 
then place it in your pigeon-hole for rejected scripts. 

In selecting a title for your photoplay, try to get away from 
the ordinary title. Make it ring with the big idea of your story, al- 
though it should not be melo-dramatic. "The Judgment of the 
Sea" is a better title than "The Tale of the Sea" in that it proves, 
offhand, that a tense case of judgment comes into the plot. A title 
is as much, sometimes, as the plot and often aids in selling the 

I have noticed that Mr. Epes Withrop Sargent is advocating a 
club for photo playwrights. Mr. Sargent says: 

"Since the photoplay dinner there has been more or less talk 
of a club of some sort for the photoplay writers. We had hoped 
that the Screen Club might serve this purpose, but it does net ap- 


pear that that club will make much appeal to the play writer who 
is not connected with a company, and we think that perhaps a spe- 
cial club would be better. We have such a club in mind, a club 
without entrance fee or dues, without constitution, charter or by- 
laws, with no officers save a chairman, and no permanent place of 
abode. This may sound like an odd club, but we think it will serve 
its purpose, and if you are interested you are invited to send in your 

"In brief the idea is to get together one night a week or twice 
a month, visit the same photoplay theatre, and afterward talk over 
the films and other matters of common interest over a sandwich. 
We think that such a club will be helpful alike to the advanced 
writer and the novice, and we would like to hear from those in 
Greater New York who would care to belong to such a club. The 
idea is not a new one, save in its application to photoplay writers, 
but more than one club has found in such a start a foundation on 
which to build a more permanent organization. In writing suggest 
what night would suit you best, naming a second and third choice. 
Several photoplay editors have already expressed a willingness to 
help the idea along, for most editors seek opportunities for getting 
in touch with the man who may be taught to deliver the goods." 

I believe Mr. Sargent's plan to be a good one, with the excep- 
tion that photo playwrights from all sections of the country should 
be permitted to join the club. Furthermore, that once each year 
the club send out a notice to all its members advising them of a two 
or three day convention to be held in New York. Those who re- 
spond with a willingness to attend would be expected to pay in ad- 
vance $10.00 towards defraying the convention expenses. 

I think that only those should be permitted to belong to the 
club who have sold three or more scripts within three months pre- 
vious of the time of application for membership to the club. 

Can we get together on this, Mr. Sargent? 

The weather is getting right these days for some good hard 
plugging. Winter is sure coming. Just stay indoors all day and 
make the brain work. It may pay. 

I received a letter this morning from a scenario editor who 
has never purchased a script from me, in which he asks that I sub- 
mit any scenarios I may prepare in the near future. He states just 
what sort of stuff he is wanting, and you can take it from me, he 
is wanting some real good plots. I have before me a scenario I con- 
sider the best I have ever written, but about eight of the editors 
disagree with me. I first thought I would send it to my new mar- 
ket. Then I hesitated. I decided I didn't care to spoil my chances 
with this editor, who was kind enough to write me stating he be- 
lieved I could furnish what was wanted. 

The New Yorkest thing I know of and bearing on the right of 
photo playwrights to work and starve is the inauguration of a de- 
partment by one of the big film manufacturers in New York City 
which will criticise and rebuild all scenarios submitted them — free 
of charge. They say, in their advertising, they will give you some- 
thing for nothing. 


Thanks! We've had some. Just think, this plan of Doing 
Good — this Uplift, comes from old New York. Hal Reid must be 
back of this altruistic move. He is the only man I know of who has 
the back bone, unless it is Carl Laemmle — he has guts. 

"The Lord helps those who help themselves." 
So says William Lord Wright in his department in "The Mov- 
ing Picture News," issue of September 14. 

Thanks, William Lord. Look elsewhere in this issue. 

In the photoplay, "A Vitagraph Romance," our readers have 
the opportunity of gazing on the likeness of the Little Father, who 
is none other than Mr. A. E. Smith of the Vitagraph Company. 

In the particular scene where Senator Carter calls at the of- 
fices of the Vitagraph Company to look for his daughter, he is ush- 
ered into the presence of Mr. J. Stuart Blackton, Mr. A. E. Smith 
and "Pop" Rock. These three men are the photoplay censors for 
the Vitagraph Company, and all photo playwrights will do well to 
see the photoplay, "A Vitagraph Romance" in that they may see that 
Mr. Smith and Mr. Blackton are only human beings. But the pic- 
ture shows the private sanctum of the men who okay or reject all 
scenarios, so you should sure see it. 

"The Metropolitan Magazine" has in one Franklin P. Adams, 
a very, very clever writer. Mr. Adams is sure some sarcastic. I 
think he ought to be a photo playwright. For cute things he has 
Epes Winthrop Sargent backed off the -boards. Here then, is a 
gentle vesper from the lips of Franklin P.: 

"Every community has its Gifted Young Woman who, like the 
girl who used to make Gibson copies — and my dear you couldn't 
tell them from the original and she ought to draw for the maga- 
zines — who, we repeat, recites 'Gunga Din' or 'That Old Sweet- 
heart of Mine' so well that honestly its a shame Ethel doesn't go on 
the Stage. • Worse than either of them is the girl who writes such 
a wonderful letter to her friends that everybody says she ought to 
be on a paper. Now, if a girl can write an interesting letter, she 
can write well enough for publication. We, with engaging modesty, 
are last to assert that divine genius is essential before one may have 
stuff printed. But we hold that most of the so-called interesting 
letters are thus classed because the recipient knows the writer inti- 
mately and is capable of interlinear perusal. We may be wrong, 
but we have heard hundreds of them read to groups entreated to 
admire, and seldom have we heard any that were not commonplace. 

"But our quarrel is not with the writers; it is with enthusias- 
tic friends who insist on reading aloud the 'We-are-having-the- 
grandest-time-wish-you-could-be-with-us-we-see-the-funniest- people- 
in-Paris' letters. 

"As to letter writing being a lost art, we have a notion that it's 
like Seth Perkins. 'Seth ain't, the man he used to be. Nope, never 
was.' " 

Do you readers catch on? Do you see the finer points — such 
that would qualify Franklin P. for editor of scripts for almost any 
old company. But talking about nuisances, let me say that the 
man who desires to read to you his latest photoplay is sure the big 
awl. The big idea back of all this drivel is — DON'T BE A BORE! 


The Photoplay Mart 

This department is just as complete and authentic as it is pos- 
sible to make it. Under this head we publish each month the names 
and correct addresses of the motion picture manufacturers who are 
in the market for playscripts. The information given here can be 
relied upon as a general statement of the wants of the various 
manufacturers, since we secure statements from the manufacturers 
for the compilation of this department. There is just one way to 
keep in touch with the photoplay market, and that is through the 
advices printed herein month by month. Now and then an error 
creeps into these reports owing to the sudden changes in the needs 
of the manufacturers. However, this list is a criterion of the wants 
just at this time and probably will hold good throughout the months' 
of October and November. 

BISON FILMS — Send scenarios to Richard V. Spencer, 1707 Alles- 
andro St., Los Angeles, Cal. 

Desire strong, worth-while one, two and three-reel Western 
stories. Want the sort of stuff that has red blood climaxes 
and situations. Excellent pay. 
KEYSTONE FILMS — Send scenarios to Richard V. Spencer, 1707 
Allesandra Sa., Los Angeles, Cal. 

Single reel Western dramas and virule comedies. Willing to 
pay good money for good stuff. 
BRONCHO FILMS — Send scenarios to Richard V. Spencer, 1707 Al- 
lesandro St., Los Angeles, Cal. 

Single reel Western stories and comedies. Can use good 
split-reel comedies. Want the best work of the best writers. 
MAJESTIC MOTION PICTURE CO., 540 West 21st St., New York, 
N. Y. 

Live, up-to-the-minute comedies in demand and good pay 
promised. Stuff must be clever in conception and free from 
slap-stick. Can also use good dramas. No Western stuff 
LUBIN MANUFACTURING CO., Indiana Ave., Philadelphia, Pa. 
Strong original society dramas, those containing heart inter- 
est mostly desired, also comedies which have plenty of real 
live humor. The essential thing is originality of theme, no 
matter in what environment it is worked out. 
THOMAS A. EDISON, INC., 2826 Decatur Ave., Bedford Park, New 
York, N. Y. 

Desires scripts detailing quick action comedy. Comedy dramas 
are acceptable. Strong and appealing dramas of American 
life are also desired, but they must have an exceptionally 


Strong climax. Historic incidents are available. Do not try 
to put something over on this company for they are prepared 
to nail you. Name of author is placed on film, advertising 
poster, bulletins, etc. Good pay. 

SELIG POLYSCOPE CO., 20 East Randolph St., Chicago, 111. 

No statement has been secured from the company, but we 
have learned from our subscribers that they are purchasing 
more scripts from outsiders than heretofore. They desire 
unique dramatic stuff. Good strong dramatic tales of every 
day life are produced, but we can't say for how long this will 
keep up. Their own staff of writers handle most of the West- 
ern plays. 

Chicago, 111. 

Human interest plots will be considered. Now and then they 
produce a society play. Need not send them any Western 
stuff. Little child stories seem to be liked. Unable to secure 
statement from editor for this issue. 

AMERICAN FILM MFG. CO., Ashland Block, Chicago, 111. 

Intense emotional stories of American life, replete with strong 
vital dramatic situations. Novelty and originality in both 
theme and situation are requisite factors to be considered. Can 
also use good clean cut comedies for split and full reels. Name 
of author is placed on the film. Immediate consideration 
given all manuscripts and excellent pay for the exceptional 

Ave., Brooklyn, N. Y. 

Good strong wholesome dramatic plots are wanted. Must 
have one good scene which will hold the audience breathless. 
Plots may be dramatic or melo-dramatic. This applies to 
Western and society stuff. Crisp comedies of a farcial nature 
wanted for half reel photoplays. No spectacular three-reel 
stuff wanted, as it is supplied by the studio writers. Two 
weeks to decide if manuscript has any possibilities, otherwise, 
immediate return of script. Pay from $15 to $50. 

PATHE FRERES, 1-3-5 Congress St., Jersey City Heights, N. J. 

Most of the Indian and Western photoplays produced by this 
company are written by the company's own editor or members 
of the producing staff. Intense emotional and heart interest 
dramas will be considered. Must have American atmosphere. 
No costume plays wanted. 

THE KALEM COMPANY, 235 West 23rd St., New York, N. Y. 

Historic scripts will be considered, Good strong virile war 
tales will be purchased. Spanish and Mexican plots will get 
a reading. Dramas of business life also desired. Plot must 
be strong with good possibilities for dramatic rendition. A 
week is required to consider a script, and even longer if it 
presents a good face to the first of the readers. 


NESTOR FILM CO., Hollywood, Cal. 

Split reel comedies, either farce or otherwise, that are real 
laugh producers. Can also use strong dramatic Western 
stories. Quick action promised. 

VICTOR FILM CO., 575 Eleventh Ave., New York, N. Y. 

Desires good strong dramas calling for both indoor and out- 
door scenes that are adaptable to the work of Miss Florence 
Lawrence and Victor Moore. Send scripts to the Victor edi- 
tor (not to Universal) for consideration. Good pay promised 
for good scripts. 

SOLAX CO., Fort Lee, N. J. 

They offer good prices for genuine comedies, either farce or 
story (no chase stuff) also desire big human life dramas that 
have plenty dramatic clashes. Require ten days to consider 

REX MOTION PICTURE MFG. CO., 573 Eleventh Ave., New York, 
N. Y. 

They want the big stuff — generally they like stories dealing 
with the triangle. Morals are pointed out in all Rex photo- 
plays. Fifteen days for consideration. 

ECLAIR FILM CO., Linwood Ave., Fort Lee, N. J. 

Buying half reel comedy scripts, also full reel comedies. Can 
use good dramas. Pay is fair. 

CHAMPION FILM MFG. CO., 12 East 15th St., New York, N. Y. 

Hal Reid is scenario editor. Hal is the man who introduced 
the $115.00 scenario into the UniversaPs affairs. Although 
Mr. Reid is said to be director, he is the presiding carz at the 
script desk. Champion produces split-reel comedies and good 
dramas. If you want to deal with al Reid, go ahead. 

POWERS MOTION PICTURE CO., 416 to 422 216th St., New York, 
N. Y. 
Buying good comedies and dramas and offer good pay. 

RELIANCE FILM CO., 540 W. 21st St., New York, N. Y. 

In the market for genuine comedies and new and original 
dramas. For good stories they say they have plenty of money. 

COMET FILM CO., 344 E. 32nd St., New York, N. Y. 
State they are buying comedies and dramas. 


I sat, the other evening., with the author of a photoplay, dur- 
ing its first exhibition on the screen. On being asked my opinion, 
I said that I thought the play contained a good plot and was well 
done, but that there was something wrong with the photoscript, be- 
cause I could not follow the story. I suggested that the subtitles 
were not in the right places; that they did not convey the meaning 
intended, and that they were not sufficient to explain the action. 
Of course, the aforesaid author at once became provoked — when 
you are asked your opinion of anything, it is not an opinion that is 
wanted, but an appreciation. "You can't appreciate that play be- 
cause you are not a photoplaywright yourself," he suggested. "True, 


r am not a playwright," I retorted, "and I never laid an egg, biu 
I'm a better judge of an omelet than any hen in New York. I have 
written very few photoplays, but I have seen hundreds, yes, thou- 
sands, and handled the scripts of hundreds more. When I cannot 
understand a play, the chances are that something is wrong with 
it. unless you wish to put me down as being below the average in- 
telligence." Well, my friend was not content, and he went back 
and asked the man at the door; also the proprietor, and he received 
the same answer. 

If everybody could read the story of each photoplay, in this 
magaine or elsewhere, before seeing the play, the work of the writer 
would be lessened, because defects in construction would be com- 
pensated by the knowledge acquired in reading the story. The main 
trouble seems to be in the beginning of a play. The first two or 
three subtitles are usually lost to the spectator because his inter- 
est has not yet been arounsed, and he has no incentive to memorize 
the words. Again, the operator sometimes begins with the first 
picture on the film, omitting all the preliminary announcements. In 
any case, subtitles should be used sparingly, and seldom at the be- 
ginning of a play. — "The Photoplay Philosopher" in "The Motion 
Picture Story Magazine." 

The Deadly Triangle 

Here is an interesting contribution from Hal Reid, former 
head of the Universal Script Reading Bureal, 1 Union Square, New 
York City. It has to do with the "deadly triangle." Writes Mr. 
Reid in a manner that those who run may read: 

"I am writing you in regard to the deadly triangle, so con- 
stantly used by scenario writers; namely, 'they love, they have 
trouble, they are reconciled.' I have kept a pad upon my desk 
the past week, and I find this proposition in one week, for consid- 
eration 109 times; the proposition of the two young men loving the 
same girl, and one of them becoming a villian and making reprisal 
upon the other inconsequence, 96 times; the mortgage showed up 
64 times; the locket, 58 times; the name on the egg-shell, 11 times: 
the address put on a pair of shoes in a shoe factory, twice; the 
name on the orange wrappers, 9 times; the spinster looking for a 
husband, 17 times; the sprained ankle that 'they might meet,' 24 
times; the bookkeeper and the cashier placing stolen goods in the 
pocket of the hero, 19 times; the automobile causing the death of 
the drunken husband, and accidents of all kinds, 73 times. This is 
an accurate and absolutely truthful list during six days' time of 
scripts submitted to the Universal Film Mfg. Co. I do not write 
this in a spirit of levity, but from a genuine hope that these scen- 
ario writers who read it may, for their own benefit financially , get 
away from these old-set, worn out ideas, and get along new lines. 
These has been some considerable discussion in regard to the prices 
for scenarios. Scenarios on the above ideas have been so often pro- 
duced that they have almost lost any market value whatever, and 
when in self-defense a manufacturer is compelled to accept stories 
built around these dear old corner stones, they do not feel inclined 
to pay very much for same. It might be well for me to state to 


you my idea of a scenario which is 'different.' I received one 
which is now in course of manufacture, which showed in the first 
scene a young mother bending over her dying child. The physician 
in attendance tells the mother that there is no hope. The mother's 
grief is so deep that the physician out of respect for it leaves her 
alone and in a dissolve the Angel of Death appears, white-robed and 
black-winged, to take the child away. The mother, inspired by that 
most sacred and everlasting of all things, mother-love, attacks the 
Angel of Death and three times drives her away from her young. 
The Angel of Death indicates a large mirror in the room, and in this 
mirror there is a series of dissolves which show what this child's 
life would have been had it lived. At the end of the dissolve, the 
mother of her own accord picks up her child and hands it to the 
Angel of Death, and with all gratitude, pleads with the Angel to 
take her child above. This, to my mind, gives the world another in- 
stance of mother-love, also a message of peace to those mothers 
who have lost their young. It is of the better class and so differ- 
ent, so very, very different from the lines of scenarios mentioned 
above. I sincerely trust that this may be of benefit to the scenario 
writers, and may help inaugurate a new line of life motion pictures, 
t should think the public would be tired to death of the eternal em- 
brace of the lovers at the end of the usual picture. The "Universal 
Film Mfg. Co. will gladly pay any reasonable price for new ideas 
and that price has no limit." 

THE Usual Ending. 

Mr. Reid's statement should be carefully read by every picture- 
playwright either in the chart or senior classes. The deadly trian- 
gle has long been sadly overworked. It is the favorite stereotyped 
dope of certain "inside writers" so called, and there seems to be 
no breaking away from it. The average releases have suffered from 
the hackneyed themes, and the Universal Company has also had 
its share of "triangle" stories. Many months ago we made a plea 
for the unusual ending. We are pleased to see such an authority 
as Hal Reid now also advocating the unusual ending. "Something 
different" has long been our slogan, and we have argued that the 
lovers' embrace is not essential to a satisfactory ending of a picture, 
and that the "happy ending" can occasionally be relieved by a cli- 
max not so happy, providing it is consistent, of real power, and con- 
veys a convincing lesson. Mr. Reid's assertion that the limit is off 
all prices for original ideas, will be received with interest by experi- 
pnced writers among whom an impression has prevailed that prices 
had been cut during Reid's regime as editor of the Universal Com- 
pany — From "The Moving Picture News." 


It will be noticed that the film companies are using good judg- 
ment when they place the name of the scenario author on the 
screen. Several of the companies are now doing this and we believe 
all will invoke this rule in the future. 




The Photo Playwright 

Your subscription will be of more 
value and encouragement to us than 
ten subscriptions a year from now. x - 

Everybody in the business should 
have it, for it is valuable for man 
and boy, old-timer and beginner. 

Its purpose is to assist the scenario writer and promote his 
welfare, being devoted to the best interests of picture playwrights. 
It gives such information as is desired and needed by students of 
the photoplay. 

Make All Remittances Payable To 

The Photoplay Enterprise Association 


Single Copy 15 cents 

For the Year $1.00 

Send your subscription today and get every issue. 
Send it now, if possible. 

Are you one of those who have 
intended to but have not? 

|INCE April, when the first issue of The Photo 
Playwright was issued, many statements have 
been made regarding its value to the photo- 
play author. 

Some writers and others said it would prove a fake 
and a frost. But there were hundreds of others who 
were so interested that they subscribed immediately. 

These photo playwrights now know this magazine is 
the most valuable aid that can be secured. They are 
selling their scripts solely as a result of keeping in touch 
with the markets and following the advice given in every 
issue of The Photo Playwright. 

You can do the same. Don't put it off any longer. 

One Dollar 
A Year 

Send Money Order- 

iv e cannot use 



Boonville, Indiana, U. S. A. 


\l 1313 


No. 7 

November Issue 1912 


Application made for entry in the mails as matter of the Second Class as per requirements of an Act 
of Congress passed March 3, 1879. 


To scenario writers who desire the proper tools for their work, 
namely, paper and envelopes, we make the following offer: 


100 sheets paper, 8^x11 inches . . . 

100 envelopes, No. 11 

100 envelopes, No. 10 (enclosures) 

The above order will be doubled on receipt of money order 
for $2.00. 

The envelopes mentioned above are not the ordinary cheap 
white envelopes generally used, but tough Manila envelopes — just 
the thing for mailing scenarios. 



Conditions in the moving picture world are constantly chang- 
ing; the demands of the scenario editors are many and varied with 
these changes. To keep abreast of the times, all writers should 
be regular subscribers to one or more of the reputable photoplay 
publications. We quote you the following rates: 

Moving Picture World, $2.75 


The regular price of this publication is $3.00 a year. The 
Photoplay Enterprise Association recommends it as ehe best of 
its kind printed. 

Motion Picture Story Magazine, $1.40 

A publication of a different sort — it tells the stories of the best 
photoplays in story form — finely illustrated. The regular price is 
$1.50 a year. 

The Photoplay Enterprise Association 



Vol. 1 

November, October, 1912 

No. 7 

Did You Ever? 2 

The Christmas Issue — A Statement 3 

A Few Particular Points 4 

W. Hanson Durham 

Fifty Dollar Scenarios ;..:■..- 5 

Across The Pond 7 

The Successful Plot 9 

A Hundred-Point Man 10 

Elbert Hubbard 

Scenario Advertisments 12 

Reasons for Rejection 14 

Random Notes 15 

Brass Tack Talks 17 

The Photoplay Mart 20 

The Clearing House 23 


Copyright 1912 by 

The Photoplay Enterprise 




The Photo Playwright 

Devoted to the Interests of the Scenario Writer. 



Did You Ever ? 

(By A. Van Buren Powell) 

Did you ever get the notion you could write a Photoplay; 
Peel imagination's prompting, yield to its seductive sway? 
In the throes of plot creation, burn the midnight gas or oil, 
Till you find your effort, finished, worthy fruit of earnest toil? 

Did you ever skulk, at 12 P. M., from your paternal door 
To mail-box on the corner, 'midst the city's stifled roar, 
Clutching tightly to your bosom envelopes both long and thick, 
Then, lest prying eyes discover, shove 'em in, and vanish quick? 

Did you ever watch the postman as he made his daily way, 
Watch him hover near your doorstep (every second seems a 

Pounce upon the long manilla, like the salvers on a wreck, 
Trembling, fearing, doubting — hoping? "Glory be! It IS a 

check " 

Did you ever snatch the paper (journal of the trade, I mean), 
Looking quickly to discover when your play would reach the 

Hasten to the nearest theater, where posters were displayed. 
There to see your picture advertised,. "The greatest ever 


Did you ever sit and simmer, tho yonr heart was cold with fear 
Watching, waiting, wild with worry till your picture should ap- 
There to throb and thrill and utter as the story was unrolled, 
Gazing, starry-eyed and happy — did the audience seem cold? 

Did you ever hate a critic when he dubbed your picture 

Did you love him like a brother if his judgment said 'twas fine? 
If you haven't done these many things (and few have not, I 

You've missed 'most half your life, my friend. Get busy; do 

it now! 

— Prom "The Motion Picture Story Magazine." . 


Vol. I 

NOVEMBER, 1912. 

No. 7 

The Christmas Issue 

What Our Subscribers May Expect in the December Number. 

E are bubbling over with the news, and want to tell it — 
quick. Every single one of our readers is concerned. 

The December issue of this magazine will contain 
forty-eight pa?»es, but that isn't the real secret. 

The December issue of THE PHOTO PLAYWRIGHT 
can't be beat, for it Avill contain such an array of good things that 
you'll pardon us for all the past delays and misunderstandings. 

Lawrence McCloskey, editor of scenarios for the Lubin Manu- 
facturing Company, has promised to furnish us with a lengthy ar- 

Richard V, Spencer, editor of scenarios for the Kay-Bee and 
Broncho photoplays, writes that his article will reach us in time for 
the Christmas issue; 

W. Hanson Durham, most of you know him, and he is now with 
Rollin Sturgen of the Western Vitagraph Company at Santa Monica, 
Cal., says he will send us his picture and an article. 

Mr. W. A. Tremayne of Canada, that matchless photo play- 
wright who has supplied the Vitagraph Company with so many of 
their truly great successes, is urged to get his first article to us in 
time for December, and we may hold four or five days for him. 

Besides all these, there is Mrs. Beta Breuil, Monte M. Katter- 
john, Elmer W. Romine, and several other well known contributors 
who will have something to say next month, so don't worry if we 
are at least ten days behind time. 

A Few- Particular Points 

By W .Hanson Durham, Scenario Editor of the Western Vitagraph 

Company . 

Editor's Note: Mr. Durham has agreed, whenever his time is 
his own, to contribute articles to this magazine. In a recent com- 
munication he says: "I have been so busy that I have been unable 
to give the matter of an article for your publication any particular 
atcention until this morning. I have, however, managed to dash off 
a little article which I know from practical experience is what most 
writers are ignorant of, or, at least their offerings indicate that lack 
of knowledge. I thought perhaps a 'tip' on this particular point 
might be just about what you wanted and might prove another help- 
ing hand to some poor struggling scenarioist. (This is my word.") 

SCENARIO which can be produced as it is written is a 
very rare thing and a prize to the producer. Most man- 
uscripts contain only the germ, idea or suggestion of 
something which can be made from it. There is a' de- 
cided difference between the salable scenario and the 
working scenario. The director must work it out. 

In writing a salable scenario, it can just as well be made a 
working scenario by careful consideration and making plausible all 
lapses of time — making the incidents or situations in scenes con- 
tinuous in perfect harmony as to time and chronological continuity, 
thus saving the producer in solving problems which must, if this is 
not most carefully observed, be encountered. 

The average author has no idea of the close, serious study 
which must be given to each script previous to production to make 
the salable scenario a working scenario. 

Often times a scene, as written by the author, contains so much 
action and mechanical business — too much for the limited time al- 
lowed an average scene — that the producer must divide and sub- 
divide the scene into several scenes which require corresponding 'cut- 
backs' which consequently, create a problem for the producer or di- 
rector to match up the broken parts perfectly. Therefore, avoid 
accordingly, long acting scenes. Furthermore, avoid that which is 
characteristic among amateur authors — narrativeness, which posi- 
tively will not carry or register the idea which is important to con- 
vey to the eye without aid of spoken words. Make it plain — leave 
nothing to be supposed or inferred by the producer or the audience. 

Fifty Dollar Scenarios 

Richard V. Spencer, Editor of Scenarios for "Kay-Bee," "Broncho" 
and "Keystone" Films, Writes Interesting Letter. 

HE New York Motion Picture Company has settled its 
litigation with the Universal Film Manufacturing Com- 
pany, the terms of which are a matter of great satisfac- 
tion to the New York Motion Picture Company. 

Owing to the fact that the Universal Company per- 
sisted in selling films under the name of "Bison" and threatened to 
sell films under the name of "101 Bison," which were not made hy 
the New York Motion Picture Company, confusion resulted, and the 
New York Motion Picture Company decided to discontinue the use 
of that name, and to make films kno%n as the "Kay-Bee" hrand. 
The name of the new brand is attained through the conjuring of the 
initials of Messrs. Kessel and Bauman, "K-B" only the very letters 
are spelled. 

Mr. Richard V. Spencer and Fred J. Balshofer, both of the Pa- 
cific Coast Studio of the New York Motion Picture Company, and 
who were the men responsible for the famous "Bison" brand, are 
at the helm in producing the new "Kay-Bee" photoplays. And what 
is more, they are also producing "Broncho" and "Keystone" films. 
In fact, Mr. Spencer and his associates are about the livest in the 
business just at this time. 

Appearing in all the trade journals and various professional 
leaflets is the following advertisement: "We are in the market for 
scenarios. The minimum price paid will be $50.00. We want stir- 
ring Frontier, Pioneer. Military stories in one and two reels. If your 
scenario is not worth $50.00, don't send it in. Mail to T. H. Ince, 
director, 1719 Allesandro St., Los Angeles, Cal." 

Upon the appearance of the advertisement, we wrote Mr. Spen- 
cer for an article relative to "Kay-Bee," "Broncho" and "Keystone" 
wants. Mr. Spencer's reply is as follows: 

"In reply to your letter, would say that I am too busy at the 
present writing to prepare any kind of an article of any length for 
'The Photo Playwright.' I am working night, and day now with our 
directors in preparing these big stories. We are releasing two two- 
reel productions every week, in addition to the Keystone films, so 
you can see what I am up against. The best that I can do at this 
time is to give you a brief outline of our wants in regards to sce- 

"We are offering the highest prices ever paid to scenario writers 
for stirring original scripts, and I am sorry to say that we are not 
getting them. This is rather a gloomy outlook and no doubt if you 
could be here in the office with me and see the stories that come in, 
you, too, would turn pessimist. 

"Since authors cannot supply our demands, we have to write 
most of our own stuff. What we want for the Broncho and Kay- 
Bee films are powerful plots along Indian-Military and Civil War 
themes, — one punch per script is not enough,— there should he two 
or three powerful situations in each story, otherwise the action 
drags. These punches must not be hap-hazard, but must be worked 
in the story legitimately. We do not care so much how the scenario 
proper is written, so long as it contains the meat of a story, as the 
director and scenario department change all stories that are ac- 

"The Keystone Company is producing split-reel comedies ex- 
clusively. The sleuth stories have been revived, with Mr. Bennett 
and Mr. Mace in their dual roles, made famous in the old Biograph 
Company. The Keystone directors are producing one of these de- 
tective pictures each week and another split-reel comedy on the 
same reel. Split-reel dramatic comedies should be mailed to MR. 
and all scenarios to SCENARIO DEPARTMENT, NEW YORK MO- 
and all other scenarios to SCENARIO DEPARTMENT, NEW YORK 

"We have gone out of our way to aid authors in preparing 
work up to our standard. Every author that sells us a story, in ad- 
dition to receiving the highest market price for his story, we send 
him with the check, a revised version of his own story just as the 
director and the scenario department worked out the original script 
for production. This is a great aid to authors, and I believe we are 
the only company doing this. When the time comes that authors 
are able to write up to our standard, we will be only too glad to 
give them publicity on the screen, but at this time when it is neces- 
sary to re-write and revise extensively, every accepted story, we do 
not feel that publicity should be given, unless publicity is also given 
to the director and editor. 

"Perhaps in another month I may be able to prepare an article 
for your ever welcome 'Photo Playwright.' " 

Photo Playwrights should give Mr. Spencer's letter much con- 
sideration. Mr. Spencer makes the point that too much work on a 
script isn't enough, by far. If you expect to bring home the bacon, 
make the meat worth while. 


Be sincere. Every time you see that you do not know some- 
thing you ought to know, get right down to hardpan and learn it. 
Don't attempt to skip over the low places. Like all other matter 
subject to the law of gravitation, you are sure to have a sinking 
spell whenever you get over a chasm without a bridge under you. 
Knowledge is the best bridge material; with it you can do more than 
keep out o fthe chasm; you can span the valleys.-; — Minneapolis Trib- 


Across The Pond 

A Digest of Letters and Other Information Relative To the Photo 
Playwright in England and Elsewhere. 

URING the past month we have received some very in- 
teresting information concerning the photo playwright's 
welfare in England. Several English writers have writ- 
ten us for help, and the various motion picture trade 
journals of Europe have written us lengthy letters re- 
garding the status of affairs in London and elsewhere. 

Mr. Glen H. Harris of Birmingham, writes as follows: 

"Any information you can supply anent photoplay tutorial col- 
leges in America will be greatly appreciated. The names and ad- 
dresses of some of these would be very interesting as well as use- 
ful, as this sort of thing is practically unknown here, and we boast 
only a very small percentage of properly trained scenario writers on 
this side of the pond. 

"Endeavoring to get people interested in scenario writing is 
both uphill and expensive work here — what indeed can one expect 
when producers offer a beggerly 7-6 for a fully completed scenario?" 

Among others who are anxious to learn more of American 
methods are Earnest A. Dench, Old Kent Road, London and even 
"The Bioscope," England's established trade journal for photoplay 
producers desires to be enlightened as to studio procedure in this 

However, we find in "The Bioscope," some very good articles 
treating on the photoplay — rather, the composition thereof. The 
first squib catching our attention is as follows: 

"I think that the time is now ripe for a paper to be started 
entirely devoted to the interests of picture playwrights, to be pub- 
lished monthly, with an annual subscription of, say, 2s. 6d. When 
the association to protect our interests is inaugurated, this journal 
could be made the official organ.. America has such a paper; why 
not we?" 

"The Bioscope" answers the inquirer as follows: "We are 
afraid that you are unduly sanguine as to the ripeness of the time 
for starting such a paper as you propose. America can support a 
journal of this sort because she is so prolific of picture authors, but 
here in England, unfortunately, the number of genuinely interested 
plotwrights is comparatively very small — if select? The same ar- 
gument applies to the formation of a picture playwrights' Protec- 
tive Association, which, we fear, it is rather too early for as yet." 

Now let us comment. In the first place, we here in America, have 
no protective association and we* do not want such an association. 
We want an association of photo playwrights, but not for a protec- 
tive purpose. The picture manufacturers are very fair with photo 
playwrights in America, and when frail brothers attempt to protect 

themselves, the manufacturers will go out and corner the very best 
writers, pay them a good salary and close the market against all 
comers. No, what we want is an association that will help us im- 
prove our own work. Any other association will be a detriment. 

As to publications for photo playwrights — there are only two 
real journals of this kind. Some purport to be but fall short by 
many leagues. 

Below are a couple of reviews by the photoplaywright who ed- 
its the department for "The Bioscope," both of which are good for 
"we-uns." The first is as follows: . 

"L. K." (Cornwall) 'sends two plays for criticism. 

In the first place, "L. K.," your "lists of scenes" are simply 
sub-title catalogues, giving no indication as to the scenery required. 
You should set out your list of scenes as follows, making your de- 
scriptions as bare as possible, except in cases where special settings 
are necessary, when you should mention details: — Scenes 1, 4, 17, 
Drawing Room; scenes 2, 9, Garden; scenes 3, 12, 14 ? Field with 
haystack, etc., etc. 

Again, the titles of your plays are not very brlliiant. They are 
over-long, and do not tell one anything about the stories. The title 
of a picture play is an important detail ;it should be descriptive, or- 
iginal, arresting, and, as a rule, terse. Read through our film index, 
and note which titles arouse your curiosity, and which do not; you 
will soon gain an idea as to what constitutes an effective title. 

"Jim and the Farmer's Daughters," is excellent as a sketch 
of rural life, the "business" being well thought out, natural and or- 
iginal, and the characterisation being admirable. As a play, how- 
ever ,it would fail, because its plot is so slight as to be practically 
non-existent. In writing picture plays, you should first fix on some 
strong, novel central incident, making all your other situations 
either lead up to, or result from, this. "Turn neither to the right 
nor to the left, but go straight on-!" In your play you have plenty 
of excellent incidents but no climax; it has no "insides," so to speak. 

Tour other play suffers, in the same way, from lack of plot, 
though it contains the germ of a good idea, which might be devel- 
oped into a first-rate story if handled properly. And, surely, by the 
way, it is not a usual proceeding for ancient sextons to dig graves 
in their nightcaps at midnight; such doings require a better^ex- 
planation than that which you give. 

We think you would be very successful as a picture playwright 
if only you could get hold of some original themes to work on. Your 
incidental "business" and character delineation are much above the 
average; it is in dramatic interest that you fail. We would advise 
you to study other people's plays at the theatres, and, even, to read 
"legitimate" plays by such men as Pinero, Carton and Jones, noting 
their methods of construction. Put the bones together first, and 
cover them with flesh afterwards. And develop your "sense of the 

In this comment, the English reviewer touches "the usual 
thing" idea. Yes, ideas have been "done to death," and will be 
"dun again." 

We are afraid, "A.'B. C," that your play won't quite do. In 
the first place, the idea of the man who sacrifices himself for his 


friend has been absolutely done to death, and, secondly, the sacri- 
fice which you cause Carter to make is entirely uncalled for and 
even ridiculous. If "Evelyn makes no secret of her love for Carter," 
and Carter "loves Evelyn passionately," then, surely, since there is 
no just impediment, the course of true love might for once be al- 
lowed to run smoothly. You cannot create a drama simply by mak- 
ing your characters act in direct defiance to real life. If your play 
were produced, nobody could have the least sympathy with Carter, 
who not only spoils his own happiness but also wilfully destroys that 
of the girl he is supposed to love. Don't think we are hard-hearted, 
but we really cannot believe in Carter. For his "sacrifice" to be in 
the least convincing, you must either make Evelyn love Wilson, 
or else provide some very good reason indeed for the union to 'be 

We notice that you refer to your hero sometimes as "Carter," 
and sometimes as "Leon." This is confusing to the reader; you 
should stick definitely to one name or the other. 

Your scenario is not quite full enough. Without having read 
the synopsis first, it would be difficult to gather the whole idea of 
the story from the former alone. The synopsis should be just a 
brief summary of the plot, not in any way an adjunct to, or ex- 
planation of, the scenario. 

In writing a picture play, try first of all to hit on an original 
idea, and then make sure that you can fashion it into a story of ab- 
solute naturalness and probability. Naturalness counts for much 
more on the screen than on the "legitimate" boards and artificiality 
of any kind shows up horribly. Try to look at your plays from a 
detached, dispassionate standpoint, or, if you find this impossible, 
hand them over to a candid friend for criticism when they are fin- 
ished. There is nothing like candid criticism to help you, however 
much it hurts. 


"No plot is successful which arouses no original thought or an 
emotionalism on the part of the onlooker. A profound knowledge 
of the mind of the reader, the powers and capabilities of the audi- 
ences are of prime importance in picture-playwriting. Lack of that 
knowledge, lack of studying the faces and the emotion of those who 
visit the picture theatre, are reasons for the failure of many who 
try to write the picture drama. The possession of that power of 
playing on the heart-strings of the onlooker accounts very often for 
the success of the superficial writer, who may know little else, but 
has an inherent talent of understanding so well how to play on the 
minds and hearts of picture show patrons and to make them think. 
Prank R. Stockton created an unusual ending and .powerful climax 
simply by leading the way to two equally possible conclusions. There 
is nothing in his novel that presupposes the appearance at the door 
of the tiger any more than the appearance of the lady, or the lady 
any more than the tiger. The burden of solution is thrown wholly 
on the reader, and the reader is certain to solve the problem in the 
way his feelings dictate." — By Wm. Lord Wright. 


A Hundred-Point Man 

(By Elbert Hubbard) 

HE other day I wrote to a banker-friend inquiring as to 
the responsibility of a certain person. The answer came 
back, thus: "He is a Hundred-Point man in everything 
and anything he undertakes." I read the telegram and 
then pinned it up over my desk where I could see it. 
That night it sort of stuck in my memory. I dreamed of it. 

The next day I showed the message to a fellow I know pretty 
well, and said, "I'd rather have that said of me than to be called a 
great this or that." 

Oliver Wendell Holmes has left on record the statement that 
you could not throw a stone on Boston Common without caroming 
on three poets, two essayists, and a playwright. 

Hundred-Point men are not so plentiful. 

A Hundred-Point man is one who is true to every trust; who 
keeps his word; who is loyal to the firm that employs him; who does 
not listen for insults nor look for slights ;who carries a civil tongue 
in his head; who is polite to strangers, without being "fresh;" who 
is considerate toward servants; who is moderate in his eating and 
drinking; who is willing to learn; who is cautious and yet courag- 

Hundred-Point men may vary much in ability, but this is al- 
ways true — they are safe men to deal with, whether drivers of drays, 
motormen, clerks, cashiers, engineers or presidents of railroads. 

Paranoiacs are people who are suffering from fatty enlarge- 
ment of the ego . They want the best seats in the synagogue, they 
demand boquets, compliments, obeisance, and in order to see what 
the papers will say next morning, they sometimes obligingly commit 

The paranoiac is the antithesis of the Hundred-Point man. The 
paranoiac imagines he is being wronged, that some one has it in 
for him, and that the world is down on him. He is given to that 
which is strange, peculiar, uncertain, eccentric and erratic. 

The Hundred-Point man may not look just like all other men, 
or dress like them, or talk like them, but what he does is true to 
his own nature. He is himself. 

He is more interested in doing his work than in what people 
will say about it. He does not consider the gallery. He acts his 
thought and thinks little of the act. 

I never knew a Hundred-Point man who was not one brought 
up from early youth to make himself useful, and to economize in 
the matter of time and money. 

Necessity is ballast. 

The paranoiac, almost without exception, is one who has been 
made exempt from work. He has been petted, waited upon, cod- 
dled, cared for, laughed at and chuckled to. 


The excellence of the old-fashioned big family was that no child 
got an undue amount of attention. The antique idea that the child 
must work for his parents until the day he was twenty-one was a 
deal better for the youth than to let him get it into his head that 
his parents must work for him. 

Nature intended that we should all be poor — that we should 
earn our bread every day before we eat it. 

When you find the Hundred-Point man you will find one who 
lives like a person in moderate circumstances, no matter what his 
finances are. Every man who thinks he has the world by the tail 
and is about to snap its demnition head off for the delectation of 
mankind, is unsafe, no matter how great his genius in the line of 

The Hundred-Point man looks after just one individual, and 
that is the man under his own hat; he is one who does not spend 
money until he earns it; who pays his way; who knows that noth- 
ing is ever given for nothing; who keeps his digits off other peo- 
ple's property. When he does not know what to say, why-, he says 
nothing, and when he does not know what to do, he does not do it. 
We should mark on moral qualities not merely mental attainment 
or proficiency, because in the race of life only moral qualities count. 
We should rate on judgment, application and intent. Men by habit 
and nature who are untrue to a trust, are dangerous just in pro- 
portion as they are clever. I would like to see a university devoted 
to turning out safe men instead of merely clever ones. 

How would it do for a college to give one degree, and one only, 
to those who are worthy, the degree of H. P.? 

Would it not be worth striving for, to have a college president 
say to you, over his own signature: "He is a Hundred-Point man 
in everything and anything that he undertakes!" 


Roy McCardell, humorist and philosopher, who writes so many 
of the Biograph comedies, went abroad last summer. On the way 
across he grew quite chummy with Louis Tracy, the English nov- 
elist, who was returning home after a visit to America. 

One morning in the smoking room Tracy passed and bowed to 
McCardell. A serious-looking Englishman witnessed this exchange 
of greetings and, after thinking the thing over for a time, ap- 
proached McCardell. 

"I beg your pardon," he said, "but you seem to know that per- 
son who just passed. He and I are sharing the same stateroom, and 
this morning he got up first and by mistake put on my boots. He's 
wearing them now. Do you know him?" 

"Yes," said McCardell. "That's Louis Tracy." 

"Tracy, the novelist?" said the Englishman. "I admire his 
works immensely. I wonder now if I might meet him!" 


Scenario Advertisements 

How To Distinguish the Alluring Words of the Ad- Writers. 

HERE are advertisements, "ads," and then some more 
advertisements, all of them beckoning to you for your 
scenarios or your money. Most of them want your money, 
some of them want your scenarios, others want both 
your money and your scenarios. And then there are 
some who say exactly what they want, and mean it. and there are 
others who just say they want this and that and it is all buncombe. 

Surely the advertising pages of the monthly magazines, the 
trade journals and other sporadic sheets are no place for the un- 
wary script writer who happens to have salted some few dollars 
away for a rainy day, or for the genuine script writer who desires 
to make better connections and dispose of his work for better prices. 

To know all of these things and to realize that this world is a 
very cold proposition, one must run the gamut. Frankly, what is 
your opinion of this advertisement? 

SCENARIOS — Headliners wanted. Highest prices paid. Com- 
edies specially desired. Kinemacolor Co., 1600 Broadway, New 

Please note that the advertisement says, "Highest prices paid." 
Now do you happen to know what the Kinemacolor Company's mini- 
mum price is, and had you chanced upon the advertisement, wouldn't 
you merely have picked out your best script and forwarded it to 
them? And had they accepted the same, $15.00 would have been 

There isn't a scenario writer in this country who doesn't think 
his scripts are headliners. And so we think the Kinemacolor Com- 
pany should be more explicit as to just what they want and what 
they are willing to pay. 

Read this advertisement: 

The world's best scenario writers are invited" to contribute their 
finest efforts to the Universal regularly! We not only offer the high- 
est prices for available scenarios but also a steady market for your 
best works. Courtesy, quick handling of your manuscripts by ex- 
perts and liberal terms will characterize our dealings with you. Big 
western stories desired at once and others, particularly comedies, as 
soon as possible. Address all scripts to Scenario Editor, Universal 
Film Mfg. Co., Mecca Bldg., Broadway at 48th St., New York City. 

To begin with, the advertisement is really good, but there is 
something more to it than merely an appeal for scenarios. The Uni- 
versal Company does not pay the highest prices for all available 
scenarios. The Universal Company is noted because of its sporadic 
publicity, and to secure good scenarios and to inform the motion 
picture exhibitor that they are spending barrels of real money to 
get the best scripts for their photoplays, is their aim. The Universal 


pays good prices, true enough, but they are outclassed by many 

Now study this matter — to which class of writers will the above 
advertisement appeal the stronger — the amateur who has disposed 
of two scripts for $15.00 each or the established writer who has 
been disposing of his work regularly to some well established com- 
pany for $50.00 each? 

Easy, isn't it? 

Does the Universal Company prove its sincerity b.y their adver- 
tisement as above printed, or do they desire to have all the writers 
of all sorts ©f scenarios send them their best so they can pick and 
pay a low standard? Why don't they establish a minimum price, 
say just what they want and accept none that fall short, in value, 
of the minimum price? 

What is your opinion of this? 

$50.00 for scenarios. The minimum price paid will be $50.00. 
We want stirring frontier, pioneer, military stories in two reels. Ad- 
dress: T. H. Ince, 1712 Allesandro St., Los Angeles, Cal. 

The above advertisement will pull more good scenarios in thir- 
ty days than the Universal advertisement will in ninety. Please 
study the above advertisement, and tell us, in your mind, if you 
know just what is wanted. 

Now here is an entirely different type of advertisement: 

SCENARIOS WANTED — Drama, Comedy, Feature. Manu- 
scripts must be typewritten, and accompanied by sufficient stamps 
to 'insure return. Not responsible for Manuscripts lost in the mail. 
WE WANT ONLY THE BEST. Photoplay Manuscript Co., 1015 
Walnut St., Cleveland, Ohio. 

Now before going on, just make up your mind as to the purpose 
of the advertisement. Well, here is our opinion. The said Photo- 
play Manuscript Company desires to market your manuscript for 
you on a percentage basis, and of course, if the same happened to 
be in bad shape, they will revise it for so much per manuscript. 

But here is an entirely different sort of advertisement, and still 
about scenarios: 

SCENARIOS WANTED — You can write them. We teach you 
by mail. No experience needed. Big demand and good pay. De- 
tails free. Associated M. P. Schools, 6 — Sheridan Road, Chicago, 

And if you write them long enough you will buy their corres- 
pondence course for $30.00 or less. 

The whole thing simmers down to this — let. the motion picture 
producers, in their advertisements for photoplay scripts, state just 
what they want and about what they will pay. If they will do this 
the average person will soon be able to segregate the alluring ad- 
vertisement of the imposter from that which is worth while. Of 
course we do not mean to say that any of the above advertisements 
are intentionally misleading, but they are misleading, some of them. 

Below we reproduce an advertisement, written only to invite 
prospective customers to a knowledge of our business, and so writ- 
ten as to appeal, first of all, to writers. Now by writers we mean 
poets, hack-writers, special writers, feature writers, short story 
writers, and in fact, all writers. The advertisement is as follows: 


WRITERS — Learn the truth about writing moving picture 
plays before investing in correspondence school courses. Important 
information and particulars worth a good many dollars to scenario 
writers sent free. Write today. Photoplay Enterprise Assn., 10 Studio 
Place, Boonville, Ind. 

To begin with, there is a "Studio Place" and our offices are 
there. The number "10" is the advertisement's key number so that 
we may know just how many replies the advertisement pulls, and 
whether it is profitable. As to the other matter of the advertise- 
ment, it is for you to judge. 

We trust that all the manufacturers will read this article and 
see wherein they make it possible for the tutorial institutions to 
write similar advertisements and mislead the average writer. 

Suggestion — If you really want to know just where to sell your 
script, what treatment you will receive, et cetera, look to "The Pho- 
toplay Mart" department in this magazine. 


Some of the Reasons Why Photoplays Fail To Pass Muster. 

ELOW we reproduce a number of reasons, taken from re- 
jection slips, the various film companies give for reject- 
ing manuscripts. These reasons will apply to all com- 
panies now producing pictures, as will the following di- 
gest of what they do want: 
"We desire photoplays with short cast that are tensely dramatic, 
thrilling, and original in business with a well developed love or heart 
interest. We can use spiit-reel comedies that are novel in concep- 
tion and void of slap-stick and crude business." 
Cut this out and paste above your desk: 


Overstocked with this type of story. 
Similar Theme and action used before. 

Revise and resubmit in days. 

We do not produce this type of story. 

Too similar to past release. 

Found unavailable by director. 

Locations too difficult to get. 

Well constructed but lacks strong "punch" or climax. 

Scenario too conventional. 

Not in proper scenario form. 

Scenario too improbable 

Typewrite all scenarios 

Enclose stamped addressed envelope. 

Plot lacks strength. 

Too expensive to stage. 

Good idea but not worked out. 

Technically correct. 

See back of slip for remarks. 

Too many interiors. 


Random Notes 

A Galaxy of News Items of Interest to Photo Playwrights. 

ITAGRAPH needs vary but little during the year," says 
Mrs. Beta Breuil, the editress of scripts for the Vita- 
graph Company, in a letter to "The Moving Picture 
News." "There is more demand for two and three-reel 
subjects, highly dramatic, of original plot, and short five 
hundred feet comedies than any other form of scenario. 

"We continually find beginners who have the necessary scen- 
ario germ, and are always looking for new contributors.- My ad- 
vice to beginners must read like and old, old story. 'FIND SOME- 

"We have many complaints at the promptness with which we 
return manuscripts not desired. A reader and assistant were en- 
gaged in Vitagraph editorial department more than a year ago in 
order that there might be no delay in the return of scripts which we 
cannot use. And yet, strange to say, many complaints are received 
from people whose scenarios have been returned after being con- 
sidered the same day on which we received them. Aspiring script 
writers seem to have an idea that we editors stand in line awaiting 
the coming postman, then seize the scripts and read and re-read 
them for at least a week before we appreciate their good qualities. In 
buying scripts, it is always a case of 'survival of the fittest.' Each 
author has an equal chance with the Vitagraph; the story and not 
the author is the main consideration." 

Among the many strange letters received in the offices of the 
Selig Company, one has been worded in such a way that it is held 
up as the prize scenario of the institution. It appears from the let- 
ter that the writer 4s a realist in the extreme and desires to submit 
both himself and his bride as a sacrifice to the Selig cameras, for 
a small consideration. Weddings in balloons, in lion cages, etc., 
will hereafter take a back place, in view of the new sensation that 
is proffered motography. The letter, minus names and dates, is 
given herewith: 

"I regret you misunderstood my letter. To begin with, my in- 
tentions are to get married at a near date; and, on account of the 
difference of our nationality and faiths (my fiancee is a French "Cath- 
olic Canadian and I a Canadian Jew), we have planned an elope- 
ment, for it would be useless to ask our parents' consent, knowing 
their prejudices. Now, if you would be interested to negotiate with 
me, I would agree to grant you the permission to photograph our 
every move. Even going back (if you desire) to how I met my 
fiancee — how we used to meet — how we meet, now; our understand- 


ing. Then again, I will give the engagement ring, our elopement, 
her turning to my faith, our marriage, which will be according to 
the Jewish custom; also as to the laws of the county as to license, 
as to the justice of the peace. We have intentions to go to Buffalo 
on our honeymoon by boat, if it is not too late in the season — then, 
of course, we would go by rail. You could, if you s desired, get 
these also; in fact, any pose from the moment we rehearse from our 
first meeting until we settle down in our home. You might get some 
interesting views as we meet on the boat, and then part again. In 
conclusion, I may state, I am an elevator boy in the same building 
that my fiancee is employed." 

Says a contemporary; "Besides being an accomplished actress, 
Miss Florence Turner is the author of numerous motion picture 
plays which have enjoyed great success. Among those she has writ- 
ten are: Franeesca di Rimini, Loyalty of Sylvia, She Cried, He 
Waited, The Hero, and Two Cinders." 

George L. Cox of the Selig Polyscope Company is now writing 
and producing his own scenarios. Mr. Cox has been connected with 
the Selig outfit for the past three years. 

William Lord Wright wants to take his hat off to the ladies. 
He bases his reason for such foolishness by saying: 

"Many of the more successful picture plays of recent months 
were either written by women or selected by women editors. Every- 
one knows Gene Gauntier's work as a writer. Miss Gauntier, star 
of the Kalem Company, has found time to evolve some of the best 
picture plays of the present day. Then Mrs. Hartmann Breuil, edi- 
tor for the Vitagraph Company, is known to writers for her versa- 
tile work and judicious discrimination between good and bad scripts. 
The latest to achieve success is Miss Christine Van Buskirk, of the 
Victor Company. Miss Van Buskirk is now assisting Giles R. War- 
ren, of the Victor, in selecting scripts, and Miss Van Buskirk within 
the past few months, has achieved an enviable reputation as a writer 
and judge of picture play scripts. Hats off to the ladies, say we!" 

"A weakness of many photoplays," said a prominent editor re- 
cently, "is incorrect spelling and bad style." Ungrammatical sen- 
tences and poor spelling are bad enough but the faculty some writ- 
ers have of writing from the wrong viewpoint is infinitely worse. 
Whether or not you write from your own point of view be sure to 
get the perspective of the audience. An author of photoplays is on 
the road to successful achievement when he can visualize his story 
from the viewpoint of those who pay their money to see it. The 
dramatist who can impress himself sufficiently to create a demand 
for his work, not only from the producer but from the motion pic- 
ture patron as well, is in an enviable position indeed. — Photoplay 

The American Film Mfg. Co., Chicago, announces that it will 
shortly begin producing split-reel comedies. 


Brass Tack Talks 


ERSISTENCE is the greatest asset a man or woman can 
possess. Also it is the faculty of man to which the 
world owes the greatest debt. No need to cite instances 
of the great men and women who have accomplished 
mighty deeds by virtue of their persistence. Courage, 
intellectuality, originality, foresight — without persistence, what are 
even these important qualities? 

In public and in private life, in workshop or in office, persis- 
tence is the most essential of all factors. Those who possess it are 
those who succeed, those who lack it are those who fail. 

The men and women whom you see, or of whom you read, who 
have attained success have succeeded solely because of their per- 
sistency. Some of them have faced failure after failure, and their 
task of "getting-on" has been as difficult as your own — others have 
found their task even more difficult. 

Don't be discouraged by your past failures — don't become down- 
hearted if you first three, five or ten scenarios are rejected — don't 
grow impatient because the editor doesn't give the promptest sort 
of reply — don't be a quitter because you fail to sell your "best" sce- 

What others have done, you can do by applying persistence 
along with good common sense. 

The photo playwright who keeps himself posted as to what is 
going on in the moving picture world, and who is everlastingly writ- 
ing scenarios will dispose of more than the fellow who knows he 
can write good stories and thinks he ought to be paid a special bonus 
for favoring any of the companies with his brain-thinklets. 

Know what is going on in the industry. Now as an illustration 
— a certain company has been producing single reel society stories; 
a new policy is adopted; a company is sent West to produce single 
and double reel Westerns while a company is maintained at the 
home quarters to make split-reel comedies. Surely you wouldn't 
continue sending out society scripts if you knew what was going on. 

Says Fra Elbertus: "He who has nobly and patiently worked 
at a worthy task has already succeeded. And even omnipotence 
cannot make the past never to have been. The past is ours, and 
death cannot rob us of it." 

If, in the past, you have failed to market your scripts for vari- 
ous reasons checked by the editor of scenarios, you should profit 
by them. The past is yours, and to scenario writers, it is surely 
golden experience, for you can only succeed by getting some hard 

Mr. J. L. Morgan of Kansas City, Mo., publisher of "The Scien- 
tific Digest," writes me as follows: 


"I think you have a good thing in your publication. You should 
not make the mistake that many magazines for writers do — that of 
standing behind the publisher (or producer) instead of the writers. 
Producers that pay poorly, return slow, and send Manuscripts back 
in bad condition, should be exposed. The writers are depending up- 
on you for this information." 

Mr. Morgan adds: "As a corollary to the above, I should like 
to write my appreciation of the Kalem Company. They send the 
money or return the Manuscript by return mail." 

Right you are, friend Morgan. This magazine will endeavor, 
as far as it is" in our poor power, to assist the photo playwright. 

Every now and then some scenario fanatic gets it into his head 
to kill off a certain seenario editor, or at least, thinks that gentle- 
man should be exterminated. Just read what the editor of "The 
Dramatic Mirror" has to say on the futility of fighting: 

"In the stress of worry over the attempt to kill Col. Roosevelt, 
and efforts of the Balkan States to shoot all the Turks, we have quite 
overlooked the duel between M. Pierre Veber, the French playwright, 
and M. Leon Blum, a dramatic critic. It appears that these two 
eminent Parisians could not agree upon the merits of one of M. Veb- 
er's farces, whereupon cards were exchanged, and M. Blum hit M. 
Veber in the solar plexus. 

"What we are concerned about, aside from M. Veber's condi- 
tion, is why a critic and a playwright should exchange shots over a 
trivial difference of opinion as to the merits of a play. 

"Even a French duel, as we have seen, has its dangerous side, 
whereas Bulwer tells us that in the hands of men entirely great the 
pen is mightier than the sword. 

"How nicely George Bernard Shaw acted upon this idea he 
shows us in Fann's First Play. Therein Shaw pulverizes his critics 
entirely to his liking without shedding a drop of blood. 

"And this process has the advantage that the author can go to 
the theater every evening and gloat over the discomfiture of his ene- 

"We cordially approve of this method over one which involves 
violence and bodily injury. 

"We are, truth to tell, radically opposed to fire-arms in the 
hands of playwrights and critics who cannot entertain a unanimous 
opinion about a play. Criticism is already beset with too many re- 
strictions. Unable to suppress candid criticism otherwise, Congress 
recently attempted to handicap it with odious conditions from which 
every honest critic is bound to dissent. 

"If the frank expression of a critic is to be further hobbled with 
the fear of having to meet offended authors on the field of honor 
and risk being shot in the diaphragm, where is the incentive to criti- 

Isn't it far better to adopt Mr. Belasco's views, and hold that 
any criticism is better than none at all — on the principle of the iate 
George Francis Train: "I don't care what you say about me in your 
paper so you say something?" 

"We hope every writer of plays will ponder these few lines." 


Photoplay authors persist in doing "the chase" into script form 
for picture production. Like the pills, potion and powder stories, 
the chase picture has been eliminated by all progressive photoplay 
producers, and photo playwrights should abandon this timeworn 
idea of injecting liveliness into the plot. True, now and then a 
chase picture is produced but it is a safe bet that the script was 
written by some one of the studio staff. Producers don't have to 
buy chase ideas — it is merely a chase, so all they have to do is go 
out and run. 

"In my studio," says Mdme. Blache of the Solax Company, "I 
say to one of my company, this is your role. He or she takes the 
manuscript — reads it over — studies it, and reasons out his or her 
conception of the interpretation." 

So you see, brother and sister photo playwrights, you must 
make your idea just as intelligible as can be — intelligible to the 
other person so that the person to whom the script is handed for 
study and interpretation will get your idea. 

The commendation given certain photoplay authors by the ac- 
tors and actresses has secured them a permanent berth as far as the 
sale of their ideas are concerned. 

W. E. Wing, writing for "The Dramatic Mirror," tells a good 
one on Paul M. Powell. Mr.. Powell, by the way, is the Los Angeles 
correspondent of "The Moving Picture World," and of course Mr. 
Wing would like to put something over on said Powell. Mr. Wing's 
notice reads: 

"Help! One Paul M. Powell, of Pasadena, brilliant writer, 
musician and critic, is going to malign our sacred art. Acting in 
cold blood he has been taking notes at motion picture shows and pro- 
poses to write all the glaring inconsistencies in a single scenario. 
After which, says Powell, he will retire from the photoplay field. 
It is understood that one of the scenes will show the hero leaving 
the room in a full dress suit and entering the next room, fully clad 
in flannels and straw hat. Has anyone a gun?" 

Forrest Halsey, the man who has taken up so much of our time 
with his stories in "Young's Magazine," has taken the photoplay ser- 
iously and made arrangements with the Reliance and Majestic com- 
panies, whereby they are to receive his ideas with a purpose of pro- 
duction, exclusively. 

Mr. Halsey has taken to dramatizing some of his own stories, 
first of which is "Men Who Dare." 

And this reminds me, the photoplay field is slowly being in- 
vaded by the magazine writers. If you will just stop to think who's 
who among those who are making good, you'll find a great many 
were magazine contributors. Fellows like Durham, Tremayne, Mer- 
win and Phillips are getting the edge on the original scenarioists. 

Since the appearance of the last issue I have received several 
letters about the love theme, romance, kissing, et cetera. Some one 
has said that all the world loves a lover, but photo playwrights must 
remember that these themes must be handled properly. As to kiss- 
ing part, which is a part of love, don't make your principals kiss a 
scene off the curtain. In building a love theme, your inventiveness 
as to novelty and unusualness will count. 


The Photoplay Mart 

This department is just as complete and authentic as it is pos- 
sible to make it. Under this head we publish each month the names 
and correct addresses of the motion picture manufacturers who are 
in the market for playscripts. The information given here can be 
relied" upon as a general statement of the wants of the various 
manufacturers, since we secure statements from the manufacturers 
for the compilation of this department. There is just one way to 
keep in touch with the photoplay market, and that is through the 
advices printed herein month by month. Now and then an error 
creeps into these reports owing to the sudden changes in the needs 
of the manufacturers. However, this list is a criterion of the wants 
just at this time and probably will hold good throughout the months 
of November and "December. 

Ave., Brooklyn, N. Y. 

Highly dramatic two reel plots are wanted; stories must con- 
tain from two to three big scenes that .will hold the audience 
breathless. Plots should be built around such incidents as 
to make the story a really big idea. Good strong dramatic 
stories of American life, any sort, having one big tense scene 
also desired. Always in the market for 500 feet farce com- 
edies. Two weeks sometimes required to give opinion al- 
though they endeavor to be very prompt. Prices range from 
$15.00 to $100.00. They play no favorites. 
and "BRONCHO" films, 1712 Allesandro St., Edendale, Los 
Angeles, Calif. 

They are offering not less than $50.00 for one and two reel 
scripts of a Frontier, Military, Indian or Trapper variety. They 
will pay more than $50.00 if the script is worth it, but do 
not care to read manuscripts that are not worth that amount. 
No Spanish or Cowboy plots wanted. Two reel stories must 
have from two to three vitally big scenes or situations. Mr. 
Richard V. Spencer, scenario editor, promises prompt atten- 
tion to all and asks that the really successful writers come in 
with their stuff. 
UNIVERSAL FILM MFG. CO., Mecca Bldg., Broadway at 48th St., 
New York, N. Y. 

The Universal has established a reading room where the di- 
rectors, producers and scenario editors of the various compan- 
ies comprising the Universal select the scripts for the various 
companies. The photo playwright can use his own judgment 
in the matter, however, and send his scenario to the Universal 
or to any of its individual companies. The companies and 
their wants are as follows: 


Imp Films Co., 102 W. iOlst St., New York, N. Y. — Desire 
split reel comedies and dramatic dramas. 

Champion Film Mfg. Co., 12 East 15th St., New York, N. Y. — 
Desire split and full reel comedies and dramas. 
Victor Film Co., 573-7 7 11th Ave., New York, N. Y. — Can use 
light, clean comedies for full reel, also dramatic stories. 
Rex Motion Picture Mfg. Co., 573 11th Ave., New York, N. 
Y. — Strong emotional stories for single reel. No Western 
plots need be submitted. 

Eclair Film Co., Linwood Ave., Fort Lee, N. J. — In the mar- 
ket for genuine split reel comedies; desire wholesome dramas 
that have tense situation. 

Powers -Motion Picture Co., 416 W. 216th St., New York, N. 
Y. — Comedies and dramas, but must be high class. 
Nestor Film Co., Hollywood, Cal. — Strong dramatic Western 
scripts, also Spanish and Mexican plots will be considered. 
, Always in the market for comedies. 

Gem Motion Picture Co., 573 11th Ave., New York, N. Y. — 
Strong dramas of American life will find a market here. Plot 
must have vital situation and have heart interest. 
"101 Bison" Films — For this brand of film, send scenarios to 
UNIVERSAL FILM MFG. Co., Oak Crest, Los Angeles, Cal. 
Just now they are anxious to get some real Indian and Indian- 
Trapper, also Military stories for two reel photoplays. Good 
strong Western stuff for single reel plays also in demand. 

KEYSTONE FILMS — Address Mr. Mack Sennett, 1712 Allesandro 
St., Edenclale, Los Angeles, Cal. 

They state they are offering top notch prices for 500 feet com- 
edy stories — can use light comedy and also farce plots. Key- 
stone promises prompt attention. 

ESSANAY FILM MFG. CO., 1315-1333 Argyle St., Chicago, 111. 

Can use comedies and dramas of simple plot. Also want strong 
dramatic scripts permitting emotional acting. Good pay and 
prompt attention. 

THOMAS A. EDISON, INC., 2826 Decatur Ave., Bedford Park, 
Bronx, New York, N. Y. 

The unusual sort of story with genuine dramatic possibilities 
will find a berth here providing it has been properly built. 
Synopsis of your story must not contain more than 250 words 
or run more than one typewritten page. They also desire ef- 
fervescent comedies. 

THE KALEM CO., 235 West 23rd St., New York, N. Y. 

Stories relating to historical incidents, Western, mining and 
Spanish considered. Desire strong dramatic plots, also good 
comedies. Sort of universal company in that almost any sort 
of scenario is liable to be accepted providing it is worthy of 

SELIG POLYSCOPE CO., 2*0 East Randolph St., Chicago, 111. 

No statement has been secured from the company, but we 
have learned from our subscribers that they are purchasing 
more scripts from outsiders than heretofore. They desire 
unique dramatic stuff. Good strong dramatic tales of every 
day life are produced, but we can't say for how long this will 
keep up. Their own staff of writers handle most of the West- 
ern plays. 


PATHE FRERES, 1-3-5 Congress St., Jersey City Heights, N. J. 

Most of the Indian and Western photoplays produced by this 
company are written by the company's own editor or members 
of the producing staff. Intense emotional and heart interest 
dramas will be considered. Must have American atmosphere. 
No costume plays wanted. 

AMERICAN FILM MFG. CO., Ashland Block, Chicago, 111. 

Intense emotional stories of American life, replete with strong 
vital dramatic situations. Novelty and originality in both 
theme and situation are requisite factors to be considered. Can 
also use good clean cut comedies for split and full-Teels. Name 
of author is placed on the film. Immediate consideration 
given all manuscripts and excellent pay for the exceptional 

LUBIN MANUFACTURING CO., Indiana Ave., Philadelphia, Pa. 

Strong original society dramas, those containing heart inter- 
est mostly desired, also comedies which have plenty of real 
live humor. The essential thing is originality of theme, no 
matter in what environment it is worked out. Can also use 
stories that have the necessary situations for two reel photo- 
plays. Themes may be based on everyday situations, although 
must develop strong heart interest and permit emotional act- 
ing. Good prices paid and prompt consideration. 

KINEMACOLOR COMPANY, 16 00 Broadway, New York, N. Y. 

Offering in their advertisements high prices for high class 
comedies and dramas. 

RELIANCE FILM CO., 540 West 21st St., New York, N. Y. 
Desire good half reel comedies. 

SOLAX CO., Fort Lee, N. J. 

Anxious to receive worth-while comedies that are void of slap- 
stick and get across because of the unique plot. Also in the 
market for dramas. No Western stuff wanted. 

MAJESTIC MOTION PICTURE CO., 540 West 21st St., New York, 
N. Y. 

Comedies in demand for split-reel production. Can use a few- 
strong dramas, also. 

The following companies do not want scripts sent to them at 

this time: Comet, Thanhouser, "Biograph and Melies. The Gaumont, 

Great Northern, Eclipse, Itala and Cines films are not produced in 

this country, consequently do not want scenarios submitted to them. 


"I have many times noticed a tendency on the part of photo- 
play writers to put their subtitles at the beginning of a scene, rather 
than at the place where they belong, and the editors usually allow 
this defect to appear on the film. It is quite natural for the writer 
to begin the scene with a subtitle announcing the main incident of 
that scene, but the proper place for the subtitle is usually at a. place 
just preceding the incident. I have seen many films made unintelli- 
gible by this fault. As a general rule, it is wrong to begin a film 
with a subtitle, and it is wrong to begin a scene with one, unless the 
beginning of that scene requires explanation." 


The Clearing House 

AN you tell me if there is any company, and if so, who, 
that will accept occult or reincarnation plots? I have 
several film plots which I will work out if I can find any 
market for them." 

So writes a subscriber from Seattle, Wash. 
The best advice we can give you, and anybody else, for that mat- 
ter, is to suggest that you write the scenarios out in complete form 
and submit them to the various manufacturers. You might dispose of 
them, although we don't happen to know of any company who is 
fishing for the sort of plots you mention. 

A Chicago photo playwright has some ideas of her own, and 
she expresses them as follows: - 

"I have found a number of helpful "editors. It always takes 
two to fight, and if an author intends to be sensitive about a well 
meant suggestion, and to be sarcastic to an editor, — well, the editor 
will remember it. 

"What check is big enough to equal a word of advice from an 
experienced editor to a novice? 

"I have a method of my own — for instance, if an editor rejects 
a play for stated reasons, and I don't agree with him, I continue sub- 
mitting the script. If two editors reject it for the same reason, I 
put the script aside until I can agree with them. I have revised my 
scripts many times after reading them over just once after their ini- 
tial rejection." 

How many of you have begun or have been thinking of writ- 
ing a Christmas scenario? Well, don't do it, because the manufac- 
turers are not really wanting any. They might buy a script if it 
was real, real good and extraordinary, but to save time and postage, 
don't do it; give your time to other species that you know are in 
demand. On this subject, a Missouri lady writes as follows: 

"Do you think you would be able to sell "An English Christ- 
mas Pantomine," which is for children and for grown-ups? I have 
one which was produced last Christmas and was a great success. If 
1 prepare it as a moving picture scenario, would you be interested? 
The Christmas pantomine is, of course, an institution in England, 
being most uncommon here, and I should think might run at holi- 
day time most successfully." 

Frankly, dear friend from Missouri, the manufacturers are able 
to prepare their own pantomine Christmas tableaus. They are not 
buying Christmas scenarios, and so wouldn't want to take a picture 
from productions outside of their studio, as it would be impossible 
to photograph it elsewhere than the studio owing to the enormous 
expense of preparation. 


The Missouri lady sugegsts that the manufacturers bring their 
cameras to her Missouri home and make exposures of the pantomine 
as the do it in the show-me state. 

A letter that reads like a press notice has been received at this 
office. It is newsy, however, so here goes: 

"A short time ago several well known film men who are well 
up in the world of finance met and discussed, planned and organized 
the Du Brock Feature Film Co., the purpose of the company being 
to feature child actors, so far as possible, in their productions. Work 
on the first production, a three reel feature, will be started next 
week. This is to be followed by other features of two and three reel 
lengths and a little later on, single reel productions will be released 
at regular intervals through the exchanges. An almost unlimited 
amount of capital is behind the move, together with the finest of 
talent, including a four-year-old boy wonder, and over two hundred 
head of high school horses." 

In the next paragraph the writer gets down to business in the 
following style: 

"The foregoing will give you the gist of things. Now what we 
are after are the very best of stories for future productions and we 
are willing to pay well for the exceptional idea. It must be kept in 
mind however, that these stories are to be built up around children 
and horses. This would indicate, as is true, that we are on the look- 
out for good westerns. For instance, we have a four-year-old boy 
and an eleven-year-old girl, either of whom can do almost anything 
with horses. In addition we have a number of young cow-punchers, 
ranging in years from 12 10 17, and a large cast of grown-ups, all 
ol whom are at home in the saddle. This will give you an idea of 
our requirements." 

If any of our readers care to inquire further, address the Du 
Brock Feature Film Co., 1128-32 Foster Ave., Chicago, 111. 

''Do you know of any moving picture company that would care 
to look over a script with a touch of the mediaeval in it?" asks a 
Pasadena, California, friend. 

Try all of them, as any company is anxious to buy a script that 
has the proper number and sort of punches. 

Statement of the ownership, management, circulation, etc., of THE PHOTO PLAY 
WRIGHT, published monthly at Boonville, Ind., required by act of August 24, 1912 
Name of editor and managing editor, Monte M. Katterjohn, Boonville, Ind.; business man 
ager, Monte M. Katterjohn, Boonville, Ind.; Publishers, The Photoplay Enterprise As 
sociation, Studio Place, Boonville, Ind.; owners, Monte M. Katterjohn, Quince F. Katter 
john, Ray R. Katterjohn, Fred F. Katterjohn, Boonville, Ind.; known bond-holders, mort 
gagees and other security holders holding one per cent or more of total amount of bonds 
mortgages or other securities, none. 


Monte M. Katterjohn 

Sworn to and subscribed to before me this 20th day of November, 1912. 

Notary Public. 
My Commission expires Aug. 20th, 1916. 



The Photo Playwright 

Your subscription will be of more 
value and encouragement to us than 
ten subscriptions a year from now. 

Everybody in the business should 
have it, for it is valuable for man 
and boy, old-timer and beginner. 

Its purpose is to assist the scenario writer and promote his 
welfare, being devoted to the best interests of picture playwrights. 
It gives such information as is desired and needed by students of 
the photoplay. 

Make All Remittances Payable To 

The Photoplay Enterprise Association 


Single Copy 15 Cents 

For the Year $1.00 

Send your subscription today and get every issue. 
Send it now, if possible. 

Are you one of those ^'ho have 
intended to but have not? 

|1NCE April, when the first issue of The Photo 
Playwright was issued, many statements have 
been made regarding its value to tb<* photo- 
play author. 

Some writers and others said it would prove a fake 
and a frost. But there were hundreds of others who 
~^were so interested that they subscribed immediately. 

These photo playwrights now know this magazine Is 
the most valuable aid that can be secured. They are 
selling their scripts solely as a result of keeping in touch 
with the markets and following the advice given in every 
issue of The Photo Playwright. 

You can do the same. Don't put it off any longer. 

One Dollar 
A Year 

Send Money Or der- 
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Boonville, Indiana, U. S. A. 

FEB 12 1913 

Application made for entry in the mails as matter of the Second Class as per requirements of an Act 
of Congress passed March 3, 1879. 

How and Where 
Moving Pictures 
Are Made 


The Vitagraph Company of A merica 

HIS is a copyrighted publication in book 
form, 9 by 12 inches, beautifully and 
extensively illustrated, giving a complete 
history of the establishment of the Vita- 
graph Company of America, showing 
the whole process of the making of 
moving pictures from beginning to end, 
explaining everything in detail. It is a book that 
meets the general demand for a thorough acquaint- 
ance with the production of photoplays and a knowl- 
edge of the subjedt. This is a unique work which 
covers every point that has never been touched upon 
by those who have attempted to write upon the sub- 
ject, and who have no practical knowledge of it. 

You can get this new book and a year's 
subscription to THE PHOTO PLAY- 
WRIGHT by sending us a money order 
for $1.25 before January 15, 1913 


The Photoplay Enterprise Association 

Studio Place BOONVILLE, IND. 


Vol. 1 

December, 1912 

No. 8 

Photo of Mrs. Beta Breuil 2 

Nothing to Do 3 

By Mrs. Beta Breuil 

What About Comedies 5 

Photo of Richard V. Spencer 6 

Hints From Pathe 8 

Advice From a Plugger 10 

By Elmer W. Romine 

More Good News— Our Statement 12 

Kinemacolor's Sample Scenario 14 

The Photoplay Mart 19 

In The Clipping Box 24 

Plots of the Plays 27 




Copyright 1912 by 

The Photoplay Enterprise 


it is 




The Photo Playwright 

Devoted to the Interests of the Scenario Writer. 





■mim^gp *|W'v 



I 1 / 


Editor of Scenario for The Vitagraph Corn- 

any of America 

Vol. I 

DECEMBER, 1912. 

No. 8 

Nothing To Do 

A Lively Article About the Woes and Joy of Being an Editor of 

Scenarios — Written Especially for this Magazine by Mrs. 

Beta Breuil of the Vitagraph Company. 

P course the Editor of Scenarios has nothing to do! We 
have all heard that long ago. But strange to say, some 
Editors disagree with this very evident fact. Take this 
little account of an Editor's morning, and judge for 

The place is the Editor's private office in the headquarters of 
a great Motion Picture Company. The hour is nine A. M. (or there- 
abouts), when enter the Editor-in-Chief, stopping in the door of the 
Manuscript Department nearby with a cheerful good-morning to ail. 
Here are the various assistant scenario writers, stenographers, read- 
ers, sub-title card painters, etc. 

Open goes her desk and she starts to wade through a heap of 
mail- — mostly letters beginning, "Editor of Scenarios, Dear Sir: — " 
By the time she has read these and turned them into their proper 
channels she is ready to begin her work proper. Let's see now, — 
here's that baby story, — hmmmmm. A stenographer is summoned. 
Dictation begins. It goes beautifully for a few moments. Then — 
"Let's see — that baby must be left secretly. Oh-h-h, I know, 
hm-m-m, — she can put it into the laundry basket and carry — ." 
Just then the telephone bell interrupts. "Yes, this is the Editor. 
You want some information? Just a moment," then the would-be 
photoplay author is referred to the "readers." The Editor returns 
to her work. "Where were we? Oh, yes, — she puts the baby into 
the laundry basket, and exits. Next scene — the exterior of Jones' 
house. She enters carrying basket, sets it down* hesitates, — " Ting- 
a-ling! "That phone again." A voice, "Please come to the exhi- 
bition room to run something for titles." The Editor sighs — of 
course she will finish the story later — but it is a little confusing. 
Nevertheless she has to go. An hour slips away in making sub- 

titles. Back to the office she comes — to attempt a resumption of 
the story. "She hesitates? All right — go on with this. She turns 
and walks slowly out." The dictation gets along beautifully for 
about fifteen minutes, "She turns to him saying words of sub-title,-— 

he gasps, realizes suddenly " A knock on the door this time. 

A visitor. "Pardon, are you the Editor?" "Yes, can I do anything 
for you?" "I have a scenario here — positively on original lines — 
with a novel plot — beautifully worked up — and acknowledged by 

many newspaper men whom I know, to be the best thing " A 

pause of breath gives the Editor time to suggest that it be handed 
to the Readers, but hark, — "The readers? — oh, won't YOU read it 
first — you would like it — you have such an intelligent face — I know 
you would realize what a triumph of genius it is — " Five minutes 
are passed in trying to convince the writer that the Reader has a 
little intelligence also. Then genius and its product reluctantly de- 
part for the Reader's desk in the MS. Department. 

The Editor with worried brow returns to her sadly neglected 
story. "Realizes suddenly that he may keep the child, — takes it in 
his arms — " Ting-a-ling! "Yes?" "Do you steal manuscripts?" "We 
are able to pay for what we wish to use — the rest are returned as 
soon as possible." "We-ell, your voice sounds rather honest — so 
I'll send my story in — but if you steal it — beware — for you cannot 
trifle with me." Sigh from Editor as she gives assurance and closes 
the conversation. The phone is no sooner replaced when the bell 
rings again. "Yes, oh, certainly!" And the Editor is off to the 
"bosses' " office. This time it is a special assignment — a trifling 
one at that — just the need of from three to five stories about ele- 
phants, or camels, or it may be a certain wonderful dancer, or 
trained fleas perhaps — anytime tomorrow or the next day will do 
to turn them in. Then the Editor returns to her peaceful office, 
relegates the baby to a remote pigeon hole, and starts to search the 
archives for Elephant data — or whatever it may be. "Elephants 
-m-m-mmm." A knock. "Come in." Registered letter, — "Looks 
important." The letter — "If you don't return my manuscript imme- 
diately — I'll bring suit. I just knew it would be stolen — but my 
cousin is a policeman and he says I can sue — unless you send me 
$100, — which is cheap enough," etc. ad nauseam. The Editor by 
careful investigation of the record cards, usually finds that the 
manuscript was written in long hand (a deadly offense) — was utter- 
ly unavailable and was returned the day of its arrival. Sigh of re- 
lief greets this knowledge. The Editor is once more permitted to 
return to the land of the Elephants. 

And so the Editor passes her time — a life of careless ease — un- 
disturbed (so they say) and tranquil from morning to evening — 
except of course for the trifling duties which interrupt her medita- 
tions, and her unjust rejection of some of the greatest ideas ever 
cent out in scenario form. 

Mr. Omer F. Doud, editor-in-chief of the scenario department of the Ameri- 
can Film Manufacturing* Compaay at Chicago, has joined the Santa Barham 
office, where he will he in touch with the producers at that point. "Flying A" 
fans can well look forward to some great features when once the hreezy Western 
atmosphere gets Into Doud's system — he is some scenario writer as it Is. 

What About Comedies? 

The Motion Picture Exhibitor Has Something To Say. 

HAT do my audiences want to see?" That is the ques- 
tion which every motion picture exhibitor asks himself 
when he is making up his programs, if he attacks the 
problem in an intelligent manner. 

The chief question is whether an audience wants 
to see a program made up entirely of dramatic pictures, or whether 
they want a program in which a few comics are interspersed among 
the other offerings. It ought not to take a minute to reach the con- 
clusion that the average moving picture audience wants to see the 
comics as much, if not more, than the heavier subjects with the men- 
tal effort which they involve. 

Take, for instance, the public taste in newspapers. The great- 
est circulation-builder ever devised is the comic supplement. The 
man who aims to be superior can very easily say 7 that the pictures in 
the comic supplement are nothing but nonsense and that they are 
ridiculous and improbable, but that does not detract from their 
value. It is in that that their value lies. The children and grown- 
ups prepare to smile when they open the comic section, and the more 
improbable the antics shown are the more they are enjoyed. 

So it is with motion pictures, and it is in the realization of this 
fact that the Itala Company releases a split reel comedy offering 
every Monday. 'A Spider in the Brain," December 2, is a good ex- 
ample. A spider crawls into a man's brain via the ear and the poor 
fellow thinks he has to catch flies until the X-ray relieves him of his 
dementia. On the other half of this reel is "Too Much Beauty," in 
which a pretty servant girl breaks up the quiet of a peaceful house- 
hold. Then there is "Peeping Tom," December 9, on the same reel 
with "Keeping in Style," in which a man buys a hat so big that the 
wind sweeps him and two girls on a journey through the clouds. 

No, there is no plot in any one of these films. There is no at- 
tempt to appeal to anything but the spectator's sense of fun. 

The average exhibitor has trained himself not to be amused 
by pictures. He thinks it beneath his dignity to laugh at the antics 
of a comedian. But the spectator does not, and the film which makes 
him laugh is the film he enjoys and the one which makes him come 
back for more. 

The spectator likes a film just because it is ludicrous, just be- 
cause there is "no sense to the durn thing," and just because it gives 
him a chance to enjoy himself without any brain fag. Some spec- 
tators would like a program of comics alone. The average man 
would not. But the average man does want a comic or two mixed 
in with the rest of the films to give a light comedy touch to the show, 
and the exhibitor who realizes this and gives his audiences a little 
of the comedy during the evening is the one who will pack his 
house. — Contributed by an Exhibitor, to "The Moving Picture 


Editor of Scenarios for Broncho and 
Kay— Bee Films 

Richard V. Spencer 

The Genial Editor of Scenarios at the Broncho Studio — He Still 
Promises an Article — It's Coming Soon. 

OLD my picture out till the January issue, if you like, 
and then I can find time to comply with your request," 
writes Richard V. Spencer from the Broncho Studio out 
in Los Angeles. 

Well, we didn't like to do this, so our readers have 
an opportunity of becoming acquainted with the czar of their sce- 
narios by glancing at the likeness on the opposite page. 

But Mr. Spencer, better known as "Dick," also says: 

"Sorry to write that I can't get that promised copy in time for 
the December issue. We are working day and night on a series of 
big three reel war pictures. This work keeps me, most of the time, 
at the local library doing research work, as we have to be histor- 
ically correct." 

And by the way, "Dick" Spencer is a very conscientious fellow. 
In another letter, he writes: 

"I note the article entitled, 'Fifty Dollar Scenarios' in the No- 
vember issue of 'The Photo Playwright.' I am afraid the article will 
get me in bad if it should come to the attention of Mr. Thomas H. 
Ince, as it was through his efforts personally, more than mine, that 
was due the tremendous popularity of the old '101 Bison' and the 
newer 'Kay-Bee' and 'Broncho' productions, and I naturally do not 
wish credit for anything that I have not done, or am not responsible 

In still another letter, Mr. Spencer says: 

"Scenarios are coming in faster than ever, but the quality is 
not conductive to optimism. This is the same complaint of all sce- 
nario editors and producers that I interviewed in the East." 

Photoplay authors should bear in mind that Kay-Bee and 
Broncho cannot make use of single reel stories. On this subject, 
Mr. Spencer says: 

"As I said before in the other letter, we are not now producing 
anything except two-reel pictures. We_are striving for artistic as 
well as tensely dramatic stories. Every story or synopsis that we 
accept has to be extensively revised by the chief director, Mr. Ince, 
and myself." 

Hints From Pathe 

The Pathe Editor Explains A Few Things. 

WIDE field forr . versatile brains exists in the writing 
of scenarios for motion pictures; this is due to the in- 
sistent demand for new subjects. Pathe Freres are 
putting six films a week on the market and new ideas 
are hard to obtain. Literary perfection or even "good 
English" is not essential to success: the idea is the thing that is 
wanted, and that in as few words as possible. Tense situations, hu- 
morous suggestions, pathos, new turns and developments in plots — 
these are" the required elements necessary for success. 

The first thing to be thoroughly understood is the character of 
ideas not to waste time on. There is a popular prejudice against 
pictures showing suicide, burglary, murder, kidnapping, religious 
questions, or any indignity to the State, and also against scenes so 
tragic as to have a depressing effect upon the spectator. Good, clean 
comedy, wholesome drama and historical and educational subjects 
of all kinds are what is needed. Avoid anything coarse or sugges- 
tive. For a beginner a dainty love story would seem to be the thing 
to try. If this be successful the writer may branch out into more 
ambitious lines. Keep away from plagiarism — the copying of oth- 
ers' ideas or stories. Of course this does not mean that a new idea 
suggested by another's picture or story cannot be worked out with 
propriety; but avoid, as you would the plague, copying, as this will 
only result in your being discredited eventually, even if you succeed 
in putting one or two over on a manufacturer. Adaptions from well- 
known works are accepted, provided such works are not covered by 
copyrights. This is an important point which no scenario writer 
should overlook! 

The method to employ in writing a scenario is divided into dis- 
tinct parts: First, get an idea; this requires no pencil and paper. 
Observation of your surroundings often results in a clever idea from 
which a scenario may be evolved. After getting the idea — the meat 
of the story in your mind — develop the scenes which lead up to it 
and those which might logically follow such an incident as you 
have chosen. Having done this the next step is to write these in 
their proper sequence, using as few words as possible to properly 
convey your idea to the mind of the man who must produce it. Make 
each scene as interesting as possible, pruning it of all unnecessary 
matter. This is the Second step. 

Now for the Third: Read over carefully what you have writ- 
ten, strengthening wherever possible the situations and cutting out 
extraneous parts, which may hinder rather than help the action 
in developing your story as it appears on the screen. Finally, write 


a concise synopsis; place it at the beginning of your story and your 
scenario is complete. 

Close adherence to the rules laid down in the following short 
paragraphs will materially aid you in writing scenarios acceptable 
to us: 

Manuscripts must be typewritten, using only one side of the 

Only stories of American life are accepted by American branch 
of Pathe Freres. 

Develop your scenario with as much pains as you would take in 
writing a play for the stake. 

Be sure every scene means something. 

Be sure that the spectators will get your meaning instantly. 

Make each scene sufficiently clear so that no explanatory title 
is required. A perfect motion picture explains itself. 

Be consistent. 

Remember that a motion picture actor has only pantomime with 
which to express your ideas. 

If possible, keep the spectator in suspense: always let the un- 
expected happen. 

Let your comedies be lively without buffoonery, grossness or 
rough horseplay. 

A scenario should not exceed 15 or 20 scenes, though more may 
be added if necessary. 

To insure the return of a manuscript, always enclose stamped 
self-addressed envelope. 

The payment for scenarios ranges from $8.00 to $75.00, depend- 
ing upon the value of the subject to us as a marketable film. Checks 
sent upon acceptance of scenario. 

The return of a manuscript does not imply that it lacks merit, 
but that either it does not quite suit our present need or does not al- 
together conform to our idea as to what a moving picture play should 

Don't think that because it is easy to think of a joke that it is easy to write 
comedies. It is not. It looks simple, hut it is the most difficult form of play- 
writing because it demands an appreciation of humor and the ability to invent 
humorous situations. A comedy is merely a story humorously told. In the 
comedy of fiction the incident must be revealed in diverting phrase* In photo- 
play the comedy must be told in continuously funny action. You cannot write 
twenty or thirty scenes of sober action leading up to some funny situation where 
the plot breaks. The majority of the scenes must each have its own comedy 
action while the narrative is idvanccd and it is here that the average writer 
of comedy falls short. If a scene is not naturally funny, put some humor into 
it. Do not force the comedy action but invent something that is germane to 
the plot and natural *© the situation. If you can do this you can write comedy, 
but until you can ge*. a laugh in every scene you are not writing comedy no mat- 
ter how funny the central idea may be. As a rule' the central idea furnishes the 
comedy for only one scene ; not for the entire play. In comedy you must play 
faster, work harder and strive constantly, for the natural, unforced laughs. And 
remember that the editors go to vaudeville shows, the same as you do. They 
know the old sketches and the whiskered jokes. If they wanted them they would 
write them themselves. — Epes Winthrop Sargent. 

From a 

(Our Title) 

Written Especially for 
This Magazine by Elmer 
W. Romine, Author of 
"His Majesty's Law," 
"A Mistaken Accusa- 
tion," and "A Serious 

NOTE — Mr. Romine is called a "plugger" because he keeps 
everlastingly at writing, and refuses to let rejections discourage 
him. We like a "plugger." Jack London was a "plugger" first, and 
later, wrote best-sellers. 

HAVE been so busy with my Law practice lately that 
little time has been left for photoplay writing, although 
not writing I have been considering plots, storing up ma- 
terial for winter months and investigating needs of film 
companies, at every opportunity. 
The Essanay film company has produced one of my scenarios, 
"A Mistaken Accusation," and I believe it will be released in a 
month or so. The Melies Company should be producing one of my 
photoplays soon. 

As medical science develops by experiments, so the photo play- 
wright's knowledge and proficiency can be developed by hard work 
and experience. 

I sold my first scenario for $15 and through that encourage- 
ment I kept on. Now as I look back upon some of my scripts that 


have been laid aside I realize how very ordinary the story, how us- 
ual the plot and how flat the whole thing was. I have learned much 
concerning photo playwriting, my vision has been broadened and 
this winter I expect to turn out some good, strong human life stuff. 

Don't get discouraged, Photo playwright. If you have any en- 
couragement from the Editors at all keep on the job and remember 
that every cloud has a silver lining. About my fourth scenario was 
returned from its first consignment with a personal letter from the 
PMitor stating the script was a good one, he predicted an early sale, 
but not the kind they were producing. Same script returned from 
another company to whom I had sold before, with remark that the 
story was a good one, but chey were producing something similar 
and could not take mine. Have the same photoplay yet, without a 
market. Expect to let it rest for a few months then give it a gen- 
eral retouching and send it along again. 

Avoid lapses of time in stories. They are hard to get over. I 
had a most powerful photoplay, full of intense emotion and replete 
with strong scenes. Could not get it over because of the lapse of 
twenty years. The story cannot be told without it so it falls flat, 
although one of the most exacting companies writes that it is a very 
good script and appealed to them only for lapse of time. 

Remember that out of the mass of photoplays submitted each 
week the Editors pick only the very best. Keep away from the old, 
old, story, get out of that rut, think of something entirely new and 
novel. It's not so much tbe way you say it; it's what you say that 
counts. A poor Italian lad came to this country not long ago, he 
had a good strong story to relate; a kind-hearted lady translated it 
the best she could in scenario form, for him, submitted it to one of 
the leading companies and it brought $30.00. I know of several in- 
stances like this one. 

Probably you are trying to write comedy when your class is 
drama, or western when yours should be military and historical. 
Select the kind of story that is easiest for you and appeals most, 
then put your whole self into it. If you make good and get one 
over, why SPECIALIZE and send a few more over the line into the 
studio. That is what the picture goers want, the best, most appeal- 
ing and intense picture that can be acted and produced. "Don't 
give up the ship," but stick, study studio conditions, particular likes 
and dislikes of respective film companies and success will be yours 
and remember that tbe "movies" are here to stay and are the popu- 
lar sensation of the age. 


In a Drunken brawl in a dingy flat a girl is mortally stabbed, and as the 
police, bending over her, ask her name, she says : "Oust call me May ; that will 
do I do not want to tell you who I am." And the press of a great country re- 
prints the little sentence from coast to coast. The wise words of a great phi- 
osopher would not be given more publicity. Why? Because, after all, the little 
things are the big ones. The simple are the universal. And because the one 
appeasable hunger of the human mind is for drama. It is thus that the yeliow 
press can ho'd the multitude. Virtue we need, wit we need, philosophy we need, 
but drama we mu^t have. The scare head calls her a beauty. She was probnbw 
no more beautiful than she was good, but she did the one thing which could 
thrust her, of onlv for a moment, from the sordid unimportance of her little 
life on the screen of the world's events: she died dramatically. — Collier's Weekly. 


More Good News 

About the Plans and Preparations for A Bigger, Better and Brighter 
Photo Playwright. 

OW that we are again on level grade and with good track 
ahead, we think it proper time to take on a little extra 
freight. By this, we mean to make THE PHOTO PLAY- 
WRIGHT a bigger, better and brighter magazine. We 
are arranging for the best text matter that can possibly 
be secured. We are making arrangements with the best photo play- 
wrights, all the red-corpuscled script editors and most of the human 
directors for real articles — worth while articles, on the photoplay 
and its construction such as will interest, instruct and advise all 
photoplay authors. 

We have been at work on this idea of a better and more in- 
structive magazine for several months. The idea is past the form- 
ative stage. It has become a reality, in that our guiding concep- 
tion of a better magazine is expressed by this issue of THE PHOTO 

To get the sort of material for our readers which we think will 
not only be of interest, but will help you to earn real dollars, is our 
aim. And this sort of text matter costs real dollars. 

We have had a mighty hard tussle of getting as far as this is- 
sue. It has been uphill work. There exists in New York City a co- 
terie of envious and malevolent impossibilities who have endeavored 
to prevent us from securing the co-operation we must have from the 
producers to attain anything like success. 

But this stage of the fight is now history. Everlasting persist- 
ency has climbed the first hill. With good level grade we are going 
to climb another with extra freight. 

Advertising — well, we have not been able to secure any advertis- 
ing for this publication. All publishers will tell you that it is the 
advertising that makes publications pay. To be very plain with our 
readers, we haven't been able to keep even. 

Were it not for the fact that those whose ideas were incorpor- 
ated by the founding of the magazine were selling their scenarios 
every now and then, we would never have been able to gt as far as 
the eighth issue. 

And so, with no advertising, we are going to make THE PHOTO 
PLAYWRIGHT a bigger, better and brighter publication — one that 
will instruct with a capital "I" — one that will advise, and do it cor- 


We must raise the subscription price of this magazine com- 
mencing on January 15th, it costs $2.00 for one year. We are go- 
ing to give you $1.80 cents worth of dyed-in-the-wool articles and 
keep the other 20 cents for profit. 

Just remember that after the 15th day of January, no sub- 
scriptions will be received at the old rate. Jf you want to take ad- 
vaitage of the low rate and save a dollar, send us your subscrip- 
tion today. 

Those of you who desire to renew your subscriptions — you can 
take advantage of the low rate by getting your renewal to us be- 
fore January 15th. 

We are not the people who put photo in photoplay — a man in 
California received $100.00 for that, but we are the people who 
launched the first real magazine for photoplay authors. If you will 
study this matter over, you'll send us a dollar before the fifteenth 
day of January. 

These vital articles and these live tips are going to count for 
something. Of course we would be glad to have all of you wait un- 
til after the fifteenth day of January, 1913, and then send us two 
dollars, but for fear you forget the matter, just send a dollar today. 
All renewal subscriptions will be credited twelve months in advance 
of the present subscription's expiration date. All new subscriptions 
will start with the January issue. 

Our idea is plain — it's up to you. Use this coupon. 

(Good Until 

January 15, 1913.) 

The Photoplay Enterprise 


Studio Place, 

Boonville, Indiana. 

Dear Sirs: — Enclosed you will find $1.00 (currency or 
money order) for which enter my name on your books for one 
year's subscription to THE PHOTO PLAYWRIGHT. This is a 


(State whether 

new or renewal) 

City . 



Kinemacolor's Sample 

Suggestion of Scenario Form Liked by That Company. 

HE Kinemaeolor Company of America, with offices lo- 
cated at 1600 Broadway, New York City, N. Y., sends 
to all who write them for information as to their style 
of scenarios, a sample scenario. The four page leaflet is 
titled, "Suggestions For Writer of Motion Picture 

The correct arrangement for scenarios sent to Kinemaeolor is 
as follows: 



Hugh Deming, a young Northerner, visiting in the South in the 

early sixties, meets Sidney Carey of Virginia and is invited to the 

latter's house. Hugh becomes enamoured of Alicia Carey, Sidney's 

sister, and she accepts his attentions. 

A Ball is given at the Carey mansion and, in the midst of the 
merry making, a young man enters with news that war has been de- 
clared. Pour years later, Hugh has returned South as Captain in 
the Federal Army. A spy is reported within the lines — Hugh is 
placed in command of a detachment to search for the .spy. The 
search leads to the house of the Careys, where the spy is supposed 
to be hidden. 

Hugh gives orders to the men to enter the house, at which the 
Carey family protest. The spy is concealed in an old wardrobe. Hugh 
giyes orders to shoot. Alicia opens door of wardrobe and discovers 
spy, who proves to be Sidney. He is arrested, taken out, and or- 
dered to be shot. 

As the Sergeant starts to bandage Hugh's eyes, a declaration 
of peace is proclaimed. Sidney rushes home, where there is gen- 
eral rejoicing. 

After the war the Careys receive Hugh warmly. Alicia is cold; 
therefore, Hugh is disconsolate. The father of Alicia says, "No 
man is worthy who does not do his duty." Alicia's love for Hugh is 
too strong to withstand the pleadings of her dear ones and finally 
she capitulates. 


Village sidewalk — High white picket fence — Hugh Deming, 
the Northerner, and another young man stroll on — dress the 
period of the sixties — another young man passes them, Hugh's 
companion bowing to him. He looks after Hugh as though 
he were a stranger. 

Fence and gate in front of Carey house — Hugh and companion 
enter — another young man and two women (crinoline) pass, 
Hugh's companion bowing to them, the women look after 
Hugh; Sidney Carey, a young Southerner, enters, opposite di- 
rection. Hugh's companion introduces him to Sidney, who in- 
vites them in. They exit, gate. 



Grounds of an old Southern mansion — Chairs and tables un- 
der tree — tea service on table. Mrs. Carey, elderly, Southern 
lady, and Alicia Carey, pretty girl, seated, embroidering and 
reading. Sidney and the young man enter with Hugh. Sid- 
ney introduces Hugh to his mother and sister. Carey, senior, 
an elderly, ceremonious Southern gentleman, enters from ver- 
anda of house, followed by an old negro servant carrying tray 
with a mint julep and a tea-service. Hugh is introduced to 
old Carey, who invites the young man to join in a mint julep. 
They laughingly say that they will take tea. Hugh sits by 
Alicia, who shows him her book — Mrs. Carey pours tea. When 
tea is offered them, they are so absorbed that the ydo not no- 
tice it — the others laugh. Old Carey drinks his julep; the 
others drink tea. 


Pretty exterior — Hugh and Alicia walk through. 


Ball-room in Carey mansion — conservatory in back. Negro 
musicians in conservatory. Two or three couple (all evening 
dress) stroll by conservatory — -Hugh and Alicia enter, he very 
devoted, she accepting his attentions. Mr. and Mrs. Carey 
enter. Musicians play a little (signal for quadrille). Three 
other couples, with Hugh and Alicia form a quadrille — Sidney 
in this — they dance a figure or two. 



Ball-room in Carey mansion — In the midst of another figure, 
a young man in a dusty riding suit runs in, waves telegram 
and announces that war has been declared. All gather around 
him — Alicia exits. While they are excitedly discussing the 
matter, Alicia returns with a confederate flag. Hugh with- 
draws. The other men cheer. Alicia turns eagerly to Hugh, 
who shakes his head sadly and says he must fight for the 
North. Alicia and the others form on one side of the stage 
— Hugh exits. 


Pretty exterior — Enter Hugh and Alicia — show delicate love 
scene — farewell — Alicia deeply affected. 



Exterior of large army tent. Table and telegraph instrument 
in tent ,near front. Operator in uniform at instrument — Ma- 
jor sitting on camp stool in front of tent — Sentry pacing near- 
by — Operator gives message to major, who reads it. Sentry 
indicates that some one is coming. Half a dozen privates, a 
sergeant and a bugler stroll on, opposite direction and look 
off, with others. Hugh (captain's uniform) and a private ride 
on, dismount and salute. Hugh hands Major a paper — Major 
reads it and tells men Hugh is in command — All salute — 
Hugh sits with Major and begins to look over messages. 




Old gateway — Alicia's father, shabbily dressed, leaning over 
gate, smoking pipe. Hugh enters — greets him. With the 
hospitable manner of a Southern gentleman Alicia's father in- 
vites Hugh to enter. Exit. 

SCENE 10: 

Sitting room: Mrs. Carey discovered embroidering — Alicia 
enters — speaks to her, old negro servants enters excitedly, in- 
dicates some one is coming — Alicia's father enters with Hugh 
— general greetings. 

SCENE 11: 


Tent — Sergeant, Operator and Sentry discovered. Operator 
gets message, reports to Sergeant, who reads it. 

SCENE 12: 

^ Pretty exterior with bench — Love scene between Hugh and 
' Alicia. 

SCENE 13: 

Tent — Sergeant calls — bugler enters — alarm sounded — gen- 
eral confusion. 

SCENE 14: 

Same as 12 — Hugh hears bugle — indicates he must go — he ex- 
its leaving Alicia. 

SCENE 15: 

Tent — Hugh enters — sergeant explains about message — Hugh 
gives orders — then detachment is sent in different directions 
Hugh remains on scene. 

SCENE 16: 

Woods — Sidney stealthily passes through. 

SCENE 17: 

Same as 12 — Alicia discovered — Sidney enters — makes him- 
self known to Alicia — she exits with him. 

SCENE 18: 

Woods — Detachment of soldiers passes through looking for 

SCENE 19: 

Exterior of House — Alicia and Sidney go into house. 

SCENE 20: 

Bedroom — Alicia and Sidney enter — he starts to tell her about 
being pursued. She offers her assistance. 

SCENE 21: 

Exterior of House — Detachment of soldiers enters — searching. 

SCENE 22: 

Bedroom — Alicia and Sidney hear noise, run to window, see 
soldiers — she conceals him in wardrobe and exits. 

SCENE 23: 

Exterior of House — Soldiers discovered — enter Alicia — they 
demand to search the house — she refuses — Sergeant dis- 
patches man to get Hugh. 

SCENE 24: 

Tent — Man enters — tells Hugh about procedure — Hugh exits 
with man. 


SCENE 25. 

Exterior of House — Alicia and men discovered — enter Hugh 
and soldier — Sergeant explains to Hugh — Alicia denies all 
knowledge — Hugh orders men to enter house — Alicia offended. 

SCENE 26: 

Sitting-room — Hugh and Alicia enter — followed by men — she 

indicates no one is there — Sergeant insists upon searching 
further — Hugh consents — they exit. 

SCENE 27: 

Bedroom — al enter — look through both room — find wardrobe 
locked — ask her for key — she denies knowledge of it — Ser- 
geant wants more information — insists — Hugh refuses — or- 
ders men out — as they are about to go — -Alicia gives a sigh of 
relief — Hugh suspects — stops them — orders her to open door 
— she refuses — orders men to aim — Alicia throws herself in 
front of the wardrobe — general business enter Sidney from 
wardrobe^ — he is arrested, and exits with soldiers — Alicia begs 
for mercy — Hugh refuses and exits. 

SCENE 28: 


Tent — The flaps of the tent are down. Hugh enters from tent 
— looks at watch. Sergeant, men and bugler enter with Sid- 
ney, whose hands are bound. Hugh hands Sergeant paper — 
speaks regretfully to Sidney. Alicia and her father enter — 
Carey protests to Hugh and Alicia speaks imploringly to him. 
Sidney intercedes and begs them to go. They bid him good- 
bye and exit, in despair. Men, with carbines, march off with 
Sidney and Sergeant. 

SCENE 29: 

• Grove — men, Sergeant and Sidney march on — Sergeant places 
Sidney in front of men. 

SCENE 30: 

Exterior of House — Mrs. Carey and negro servant discovered. 
Alicia and her father enter and break the bad news. The 
women weep — the grieved man tries to comfort them and leads 
them toward the house. 

"SCENE 31: 

Same as 29 — Sergeant starting to put bandage over Sidney's 
eyes — Sidney refuses to have it — Sergeant draws away from 
him — gives orders to men — who fall in close line and prepare 
to shoot. 

SCENE 32: 


Tent — Hugh sitting on camp stool — Operator receiving mes- 
sage — cries to Hugh that it is the "Declaration of Peace." 
Hugh orders Bugler to blow signal, and Sentry to get horse. 
This is quickly done — Hugh grasps message and rides "away. 

SCENE 33: 

Grove — Sergeant gives orders — men raise guns to shoot — Ser- 
geant hears bugle — turns — undecided. Sees Hugh — tells men 

— who turn and look. Hugh dashes on — waving message. Men re- 
joice — Sidney is released, and he and Hugh shake hands. 


SCENE 34: 

Exterior of House — Hugh and Sidney enter — Sidney tries to 
persuade Hugh to go into house — he refuses — Sidney enters 

SCENE 35: 

Sitting-room — Alicia and parents discove: 1 weeping — enter 
Sidney — general surprise — explanation and rejoicing — Sidney 
tells his father to get Hugh — father exits. 

SCENE 36: 

Exterior of House — Mr. Carey enters — shakes hands with 
Hugh — takes him into house. 

SCENE 37: 

Sitting-room — Mr. Carey enters with Hugh — mother greets 
him warmly — Alicia refuses to accept his hand — Sidney hu- 
miliated, exits. Sidney tells her how Hugh saved his life — 
her father goes to her. 

SCENE 38: 


Same as 37 — Alicia's father convinces her of the truth of the 
above Sub Title. 

SCENE 39: 

Gate or Pretty Exterior-— Hugh enters — disconsolate — Alicia 
enters — reconciliation. 






Moving picture exhibitors are accustomed to the petty complaints of men 
and women reformers. It is generally understood that when tongues lag or fail 
to wag in the sewing circle, the first expedient in the direction of starting some- 
thing is to swoop down upon the picture shows. Instantly there is excitement. 
"We will call on the mayor," it is declared in a jumbled chorus." and demand 
in the name of our fair city that a stop must be put to the display of all pic- 
tures that do not have OUR approval. So, there !" 

And thus it goes. The mayor is visited. He, poor man, willing to, it is 
hoped, that they get it. But the "Various women's organizations" should keep 
before them the fact that pictures are made in the majority for grown men and 
women ; also, that the screen is the stage, the stage is life. In order to portray 
life accurately, it is impossible to depict everyone as honorable and upright, 

In Harrisburg, Pa., the Mayor received complaints and turned the "kicks" 
over to Chief of Police Hutchison. The chief called the exhibitors together and 
told them what he did and did not like. Among the list of the banned as de- 
scribed in a local paper was this gem : "One emotion he decided was bad is 

It is fortunate for the exhibitors of Harrisburg that the most the chief can 
do in any case is to confiscate a film and the projector and bring suit in the 
county court — at least he cannot impose at Ma own discretion the penalty of a 
year's imprisonment and $1,000 fine, which the law stipulates for producing an 
Immoral show. 

Manufacturers will do well to bear in mind this edict from Harrisburg, Pa., 
that "jealousy is bad." Te near humorist who reported the meeting said it 
"broke up in a general discussion as to whether the moving picture censors are 
really censore." Surely some people are hard to please, as every exhibitor knows, 
especially those whose' information as to moving pictures is second-hand and not 
obtained' through personal observation. 

With all due respect to the aforesaid chief, however, it is unlikely that the 
exhibitors will cease showing pictures in which jealousy sometimes figures. — Uni- 
versal Weekly. 


The Photoplay Mart 

This department is just as complete and authentic as it is pos- 
sible to make it. Under this head we publish each month the names 
and correct addresses of the motion picture manufacturers who are 
in the market for playscripts. The information given here can be 
relied upon as a general statement of the wants of the various manu- 
facturers, since we secure statements from the manufacturers for 
the compilation of this department. There is just one way to keep 
in touch with the photoplay market, and that is through the advices 
printed herein month by month. Now and then an error creeps 
into these reports owing to the sudden changes in the needs of the 
manufacturers. However, this list is a criterion of the wants just 
at this time and probably will hold good throughout the months of 
December and January. 

To Chicago Photoplay Authors. 

We desire to get in touch with a live wire in the city of Chi- 
cago who is in touch with all of the three studios located in that 
city, namely, Selig, Essanay and American. This person must be 
one who is writing and disposing of his scripts, if not regularly, 
every now and then. He must be on speaking terms with ail the 
editors, or be able to get the information. If you are that person, 
write us. It means a pick-up every month of a few simoleons for 
simply giving us a few facts. 

To Los Angeles Photoplay Authors. 

We desire to get in touch with the same sort of person in Los 
Angeles — we want a man, or woman — it doesn't matter, who is on 
speaking terms with Richard V. Spencer and knows W. Hanson Dur- 
ham; one that can get a statement from the men on the inside. 

To New York Photoplay Authors. 

We mean business, but you must deliver the goods. We do not 
want a nincopomp or a cub, but a person who can see the big men 
and women at any studio, licensed, universal or mutual. 

You need not write unless you are qualified, as we have enough 
letters to answer. Adress: Editor, The Photo Playwright, Studio 
Place, Boonville, Indiana. Write at once. 


The Vitagraph Company of America, East 15th St. and Locust 
Ave., Brooklyn, N. Y., manufactures and releases for exhibition, six 
reels of pictures every week, or one complete reel for every work 
day, which is more than any other producing company. Their de- 
mand for scenarios is greater than any of the other companies, 
and the stories must be varied. They are always glad to consider 
wholesome dramas and melodramas, light comedies, also farce com- 
edies. Now and then they produce historical and biographical sub- 
jects but do not depend upon the photo playwright for this material. 
A single reel scenario should have at least one tense scene which will 
hold the audience breathless, unless it is comedy. This company is 
also glad to consider two and three reel stories when written 
around some new and novel situation or incident, and which con- 
tains sufficient punches to make it worth while. The Vitagraph 
company maintains a studio at Santa Monica, Cal., but all scripts 
should be sent to the Brooklyn office. 

The New York Motion Picture Co., 1712 Allesandro St., Los An- 
geles, Cal., desires two and three reel stories of the frontier, mili- 
tary, trapper and Civil War variety. Plots must be of the spec- 
tacular sort permitting the use of large bodies of men, horses, et 
cetera. They offer exceptionally high prices for all accepted sce- 

The Broncho Motion Picture Co., 1719 Allesandro St., Los 
Angeles, Cal., is always seeking big two and three reel stories of 
a spectacular nature, such as military and Civil War plots. 

The Keystone Motion Picture Co., 1712 Allesandro St., Los An- 
geles, Cal., is on the lookout for genuine mirth provoking comedies 
either of the light variety or farcial nature. 

The Essanay Film Mfg. Co., 1333 Argyle St., Chicago, 111., 

states their demands as follows: "We are in the market for orig- 
inal dramatic stories with strong heart interest; for scenarios with 
unusual themes; we want something that is out of the beaten path. 
We are always on the alert for high class comedies with plenty of 
action. We are not soliciting Western scenarios, war stories or 
plays with foreign settings. Our prices vary according to the merit 
of the story." 

Pathe Freres Studio, 1-3-5 Congress St., Jersey City Heights, 
2s. J., are anxious to receive for consideration, clean .comedies, whole- 
some dramas and historical and educational subjects of all kinds. 
They also say: "Adaptions from well nkown works are accepted, 
provided such works are not covered by copyrights. This is an im- 
portant point which no scenario writer should overlook." A special 


requirement of this company is as follows: "We beg all those 
who submit their scenarios to us, to write their name and address, 
not on the scenario itself, but on a separate sheet placed before the 
first or after the last page of the manuscript. These measures are 
taken with a view of rapid examination of the scenarios submitted 
and to enable us to give prompt attention and reply." 

Thos. A. Edison, Inc., 2826 Decatur Ave., Bedford Park, Bronx, 
New York, N. Y., seeks the unusual sort of story. They are in the 
market for dramas and light, clean comedies. They ask all authors 
to comply with the following seven rules: 

"Each plot must be submitted in scenario form and accom- 
panied by a synopsis, not exceeding two hundred and fifty words in 
length, in which the essential points of the plot are clearly set forth. 

"Scenarios must be typewritten, on one side of the paper only, 
and preferably on letter size paper about 8*£ by 11 inches. 

"A stamped addressed envelope should accompany each sce- 
nario. No loose stamps should be sent. 

"If the plot sent is not original with the author the source 
from which it is taken must be plainly stated. No consideration 
will knowingly be given to an infringement upon a copyrighted 
book, magazine story or play and it should be clearly understood 
that the penalty for such infringement is severe. 

"No acknowledgement will be made of the receipt of a sce- 

"Due care will be used in handling scenarios and, if the condi- 
tions above noted are complied with, in returning those rejected. 
We disclaim, however, all responsibility for their safe keeping or re- 
turn. If submitted to us they are sent at the author's risk. 

"Our prices for scenarios vary in accordance with their value 
to us. The author may, if he wishes, note on a scenario his own 
price, in which case it will be considered on that basis." 

The Universal Film Mfg. Co., Mecca Bldg., Broadway at 48th 
St., New York, N. Y., has established a reading room where the di- 
rectors, producers and scenario editors of nine different companies 
select the plots they desire. This company states their wants as fol- 
lows: "We are in the market for bright, snappy comedies, also 
virile dramas of Eastern and Western environment, also military 
and cowboy comedies and dramas. We maintain several large com- 
panies" in the West as well as in the East. For our Western com- 
panies we require stories calling for casts with large ensembles of 
Indians, cowboys and miners. For our Eastern companies we re- 


quire comedies and dramas with mostly interior settings." The 
brands of film represented by the Universal are as follows: Imp, 
Champion, Victor, Rex, Eclair, Powers, Nestor, Gem and Bison. 

The American Film Mfg. Co., Ashland Block, Chicago, 111., 

is not interested in Indian or Mexican stories. They state as fol- 
lows: "We are interested in Western dramatic subjects dealing 
with cowboys, miners, etc. We want stories in which the plot is 
given a new or novel touch. Briefly, we want the decidedly new and 
unusual in Western scenarios." 

The Reliance Studio, 540 West 21st St., New York, N. Y., 

makes their wants known in this brief way: "Strong dramas of 
American life and original dainty comedies." 

The Majestic Motion Picture Co., 540 West 21st St., New York, 

N. Y., says: "We desire light, refined, full reel comedies— must 
have a good plot and be far removed from the old lines." This com- 
pany also buys good wholesome dramas. 

The Solax Co., Fort Lee, N. J., produces intense emotional 
dramas, and their scenario editor says: "We want the best stuff 
on the market. Stuff with a punch is what we are after. We want 
subjects with a 'thought* behind them." The Solax company also 
buys comedies. 

The Kalem Co., 235 West 23rd St., New York, N. Y., is anxious 
to receive strong dramatic plots which are unusual in theme, also 
split reel comedies. 

The Biograph Co., 11 East 14th St., New York, N. Y., buys farce 
comedies and now and then, purchases a good drama. This com- 
pany maintains its own staff of writers, consequently little is wanted 
from the outside writers. A scenario, to get across with this com- 
pany, must be all wool and a yard wide. 

The Lubin Manufacturing Co., Indiana Ave., Philadelphia, Pa., 

is always in the market for light comedies. They desire dramas with 
tense situations, no matter what the environment, excepting West- 

The Punch Studios, 540 West 21st St., New York, N. Y., seek 
comedies of a farciai nature suited to their two comedians, "Big 
Nettie Grant" and "Little Herbert Rice." Before submitting any 
material to this company, study "Punch" films. 

Du Brock Feature Film Co., 1128 Foster Ave., Chicago, 111., 
is a company making special pictures. They state their wants as 
follows: "We want strong, gripping Westerns of three reel length 
wherein the greater part of the love plot is eliminated. We must 


have stories which are full of ginger and which give plenty of play 
to featuring our young cowboys, which are from four to sixteen years 
of age. We are making our reputation on the work of these chil- 
dren, including a little girl who is eleven years old. Our child-ac- 
tors can do almost anything in the line of horsemanship." 

The Kinemacolor Company of America,- 1600 Broadway, New 
York, N. Y., is seeking the highest type of wholesome emotional 
dramas requiring Western settings. They also desire good clean 

To those who would make a success of the art of writing photoplays, we 
would advise following the method used hy an Albany, New York, author, who, 
after seriously studying his story, writes it carefully, neatly, sends it out, keep- 
ing a copy of the same, then going to work at once on the copy to improve it, 
so if the original is refused and returned he will be able to materially strength- 
en it before again submitting it. There is logic in that method. As we said last 
month, perhaps there never was a photoplay written that could not be im- 
proved by the editor or director, and if one can submit a story that needs but 
little changing, the chances for a sale are increased. — A. W. Thomas. 


Do not confound simplicity with silliness. Simplicity means naturalness, 
directness, lack of straining for effect. In photoplay writing it really means a 
holding to the cause. Whiel your cause may be trivial, don't offend by making 
your effect and sequence so. 

I would advise, before you finally decide upon the formal construction of 
your plot, that you tear it apart and reconstruct it from different angles. To do 
this will enable you to evolve new ideas from your first draught, after which 
you may select the one which appears to be the most striking and probable. — J. 
Arthur Nelson in "The Photoplay Dramatist.'* 

We believe that while condensation is preferable, the writer should be al- 
lowed to write his story in a more lengthy form if by so doing he can add to the 
value of tbe plot as the editor may grasp it. Not all writers can condense a story 
into six or seven huodred words ; not all can intelligently write a synopsis of less 
than three hundred words, so we think the author should be permitted to "have 
his own way" in the writing of picture plays so Jong as good judgment is used. 
We don't mean to advocate that a writer should submit a young novel, but we 
feel as if many an author, just starting into the photoplay game, could be en- 
couraged if they were allowed to write in their own way. It would take only 
a few lessons (not from ''schools") and a little advice to get them into the proper 
groove whereby they could cut down on words and apply the technique of the 
studio. — A. W. Thomas. 


In The Clipping Box 

I HAT most popular American playwright, the late Clyde Fitch, toiled 
perseveringly for years without recognition. And yet the picture 
playwright who dashes off one or two manuscripts, sends them 
out, has them returned, emits a yell to high heaven that "discrim- 
ination is practised," or "writers are favored," or that his "plots 
are swiped." The history of those lean years for Clyde Fitch has been lost sight 
of in the glamor of his later successes. He persevered, did painstaking work, 
refused to be come discouraged, and then fame and wealth came to him in an 
avalanche. The would-be picture playwright who carefully evolves his idea and 
laboriously works out his theme is likely to feel that he has at least made his 
plot explicit, with its motive discernible and its moral, if it has one, plain. If 
he is intelligent, he studies other good plays before he begins his work, and en- 
deavors to master the fascinating mysteries of construction, the making of cli- 
maxes and the development of character. He may feel that his work lacks 
much that maturer years and added experience would gi?e it, but he joys in the 
fact that his purpose is clear. One of the most horrible shocks likely in store 
for him when he sees his first story filmed is the radical changes, which, in the 
author's opinion, tumbles the entire edifice about his ears. And this is the 
first thing that directors invariably do with the work of new writers, and older 
ones, for that matter. That it is frequently a matter of habit with them is 
proven by the fact that ten saggestions of this sort as to strengthening the plot 
will differ in every particular. Many of the directors do not now have the li- 
cense to cut and slash a plot after it leaves the editorial desk, and this custom 
will become rarer as time goes on. The day is coming when the director will 
be obliged to take the natural and consistent story and produce it, whether it 
"appeals to him" or not. However, the thing for the beginner to do is to per- 
severe. Study the market, the demands of the various editors, and, above all, 
never say die ! — Wm. .Lord Wright in "The Moving Picture News." 

The most recent addition to the scenario department of the Selig Company 
is J. Edward Hungerford, who for some time past has been a contributor to the 
department which he has now joined* Among the more recent scenarios pro- 
duced by the Selig Company which emanated from the pen of Mr. Hungerford 
are A Man Among Men, The Voice of Warning, Bread Upon the Waters, and 
Under Suspicion. — Dramatic Mirror. 

Excessive realism in depicting crime, even where it is but an incident to 
the general plot, is to be deplored. Tt crops us constantly even in the films of 
clever and reputable producers. In one reel we recently saw a man who was 
gagged aud tied, and as if that were not enough to keep him safe and quiet two 
men were shown at either side of him pressing pistols to his temples. In another 
"thriller" blood was seen running like a stream through the floor down into the 
basement. It cannot be pointed out too often and loo plainly that such things 
do infinite harm to the industry as a whole. Let us say a man sees one of 
these "blood and thunder" films. He is sure to remember it when, a few days 
later, he reads in the papers that two half grown boys have been incited to the 
commission of crime by seeing moving pictures. There is as much difference 
between the ways of telling the story of a crime as there is between Shake- 
speare and the dime novel. Every one of Shakespeare's tragedies tells of crime, 
but does not exploit it and never revels in the harrowing details to produce a 
thrill The dime novel wallows in the crime a sa crime. Some manufacturers 
do not seem to srasp this difference, obvious as it is to the average thinking 
I)erson . — Editorial in "The Moving Picture World." 

Out of some four-score manuscripts submitted to this department during 
the past few weeks, fourteen of them had their beginning in the East and the 
hero lumped to the West, where he "made good." The idea was similar to 
hundreds of already-produced pictures— a connection of East and West city 
life and mountain range— and the idea is too old to be considered. Twelve of 


the fourteen plots could have' been strengthened and made available had the 
plots been conceived and presented in another manner. Writers should learn 
to know that one can not produce a picture play with all the characters in New 
York City and without their leaving the scene, show them in the next scene in 
Colorado, unless, of course, a break is made with a suitable "leader." As we 
have said before, there never was a plot written that could not be improved by 
the editor or director. But the author should put the story in such shape as 
to give the editor or director an immediate chance to grasp the idea to be con- 
veyed, and in' such a manner as to need but little or no revamping. Improve- 
ment in manuscripts will be noted by the editors as from time to time they be- 
come familiar with the authors' names and the greater the improvements the 
greater the chance for purchase. — A. W. Thomas in "The Photoplay Magazine." 

Horace Vinton, well-known script editor, has turned his attention to maga- 
zine writing, and recently had a short story accepted by one of the leading 
magazines entitled: "Vas 1st Los Mit Hermanno?" We don't know what 
this means but it sounds good. The story is enveloped about an incident in Mr. 
Vinton's early life at the Leipsic Conservatory of Music. Many of the better 
known picture playwrights and editors are successful magazine writers,' and 
others are entering the field of fiction. Bannister Merwin wrote magazine yarns 
before he ever picturized, and so did Epes Sargent and "Pop" Hoadley. Mrs. 
Breuil has long been successful in the field of fiction. By the way, we have 
drawn checks from three monthly magazines ourseif this month, and — maybe 
we are becoming too enthusiastically emotional. — Wm. Lord Wright in "The 
Moving Picture News." 

There should be a great source of satisfaction to the picture playwright, 
and a strong incentive to hard work, in the fact that so many people are in- 
terested in his progress and anxious to pat him on the back and give him so 
many words of helpful criticism and encouragement. What other poor devil 
struggling to make his livelihood in his chosen profession has pages of r>pace 
each week devoted to good wholesome advice, and expert opinions as to the 
best and easiest way for him to succeed? Deep thinking and conscientious hard 
work are absolutely essential to success in any line of endeavor. Imagine an 
architect getting inspiration and saying : "Ah ! I have a great idea for the con- 
struction of a public building," and then spending a few hours in dashing it 
off on paper before presenting it for acceptance. Speaking in tones of thunder, 
to be heard in a whisper, that is the method of labor employed by an appaling 
number of writers who are men of intelligence and education. It must be be- 
cause they do not realize the amount of competition encountered in the field of 
picture play writing. Their script, representing a few hours of actual labor, 
is placed on the editor's desk, nestling snugly between the offerings of noted con- 
tributors to the magazine and newspaper worlds — and they suffer accordingly. 
The grade of scenarios on the market is rapidly improving, thanks to the men 
who so ably edit the scenario departments of the several periodicals to the mov- 
ing picture art. — Hopp Hadley in "The Moving Picture News." 

The Western producer of the American Film Mfg. Co. is possibly the young- 
est man in this branch of the business. He celebrates his natal day on April 3d 
of each year and claims never to have missed one since 1885. Much has been 
said by critics and the public at large about the remarkable histrionic abilities 
of the "Flying A" Western Stock Company under his directions, and the ma- 
jority of his productions have met with very favorable comment. 

Mr. Dwan hails from Toronto, Canada. He is a graduate of Notre Dame 
University and bears the degree of electrical engineer. His first experience in 
moving picture work was secured in scenario divisions, and after mature ex- 
perience in this branch was given a trial at the production work. His success 
in this line is a matter of record and requires no further elucidation. For 
some time he has been writing his own scenarios and much credit is due him 
for his masterful efforts in this direction. The future plans of this promising 
career bid fair to eclipse his past successes by a large margin. — -From "The Mu- 
tual Observer." 

From a number of purchased stories of amateur writers, copies of the manu- 
scripts having been submitted to us, it appears clear that the ideas were what 
sold, simply the ideas, and at a price that would not warrant one devoting all 
bis time to writing photoplays. Yet, had these same stories had the required 
technique applied to them, thus relieving the work of both editor and director, 
who were, naturally, compelled to whip them into condition for production, the 
amount of the checks received in payment for them would have been increased 
correspondingly. — By A. W. Thomas in "The Photoplay Magazine." 


To protect themselves in advance against possible charges of plagiarism 
Director Sturgeon, of the Western Vitagraph Company, of Santa Monica, and 
William E. Wing, author of a photoplay which has just been produced by the 
Vitagraph company, are scurrying around looking up people who knew about 
tbe story of the photoplay before the Saturday evening Post recently published 
a short story in which promineat use was made of vultures as birds of omen. 
This same detail is featured and made much the same use of in the Vitagraph 
drama which was completed and shipped East before the story appeared. It is 
purely a case of coincidence according to Sturgeon and Wing, but one which 
would be difficult to make most people believe. — Paul M. Powell in "The Moving 
Picture World." 

You've been told that the best stories carry no leaders and if you are like 
the rest of the photoplaywrights, you've probably aimed more or less successfully 
at the desired end. Also, if you are like the average, you have not done so. 

Please remember that a story is not without a leader unless it is absolutely 
without need of leader. It makes ho difference in the final result whether you 
write in the leader or the editor does it for you. If there is leader in the finished 
product there is leader in your story. The other day a script was passed around 
proudly that should have carried fully one hundred feet of leader, but because 
the proud author had not written any in he declared that he had the leaderless 

It is better to write in leader to make your action clear than to produce 
the leaderless script that is vague and uncertain. It is better to use five words 
of leader than ten, but if your script needs the ten words and you cannot get 
the idea over in less, use the ten. Aim not at the leaderlss script but aim to 
write so clearly that little or no leader is needed, and one of the last things 
you should do before you clean copy your script is to go over it carefully and 
see if it is fully explained. 

But much may be done in the way of condensation. Do not say "John, who 
is Mary's brother, lately discharged from prison, comes to her husband's house." 
That is clear and explicit, but too long. You know that Mary is married and so 
she is living in her husband's home. "Mary's couvict brother visits her," is all 
you need. The fact that he is out of jail shows that he is an ex convict bat 
a convict still. If he were a refugee, an escaped convict, the fact should be made 
apparent in the action by the display of the convict coat under his other gar- 
ments or in some other equally simple fashion. 

When you see a photoplay* and an unusually long leader, see if you cannot 
better it by cutting it down. Sometimes you can spend a half-hour with consider- 
able pront working over a single leader. That is what is meant by studying the 
picture on the screen. 

In the same way plan imaginary leaders and cut these down. Make up a 
situation that requires a long leader and then see how short you can make it 
Then, as a post graduate course, plan the action to see if you cannot get the same 
explanation over in a short scene instead of a long leader, but in doing the 
same thing with the produced picture remember that there may hav been sue! 
a scene that was cut out and bridged with leader to get the subject within tht 
thousand-foot length. — Epes Winthrop Sargent in "The Moving Picture World.' 

Rollin S. Sturgeon, who has attracted wide attention with his Vitagraph 
westerns, by inserting something "not in the story," is turning to domestic 
drama and comedy without chaps. Little Mary Charleston, seen in her first 
ingenue role in Una of the Sierras, is due to make much of the fun. Puncher 
Fred Burns is "practising up" for the fast and furious stuff also. The remainder 
of the company are viewing the matter calmly. Eagle Eye has added to the oc- 
casion by alleging that he has written a three-reel western. He says it is all 
"punches." He has it locked in a safety deposit vault. — Dramatic Mirror. 


Sa all you please about the reign of law, pooh-pooh at luck, 
and pish-tush at hoodoos: the fact remains that one of the chief ele- 
ments in successes is chance. 

Men have made fortunes, won battles, achieved fame and cap- 
tured women's hearts, because things happened just right. A bad 
tun o fluck has not only broken men at cards, but it has kept men 
from being elected to the presidency, ruined business men's careers, 
thwarted the schemes of diplomats and lost kings their thrones nnd 
now and again their heads. 


Even in the pie of all-lawful science, tickle Lady Fortune has 
put a vigorous finger. The Watts boy watches his grandmother's 
kettle and stumbles upon the biggest idea of the nineteenth cen- 
tury — the steam-engine. Newton observes a falling apple and dis- 
covers the law of gravitation. The vulvanfzation of rubber, the mas- 
ter secret of this rubber age, was due to an accident. And Cham- 
pollion guessed — just plain guessed — the meaning of the Egyptian 

So, it's all luck? Not at all. It's about half luck. The other 
half is — the alert mind. 

Luck is the pitcher; the alert mind is the catcher. 

The formula for success is half luck — half me. 

All the good fortune in the world will be of no use if I am not 
wide awake and do not grab the ball when it is thrown. Also, not 
all my skill and wit will avail if chance does not bring something my 

To say "What's the use? It's all luck" is wrong. It is also an 
error for one to imagine he can win the game of success with mathe- 
matical certainty. The truth lies between. — By Dr P.rank Crane. 

N this department we will publish, every month, the plots 
of all photoplays produced for the past thirty days, thus 
enabling the photo playwright to know what sort of 
stories all of the companies are producing, and what 
ideas have been employed. 


THE THIEF'S WIPE (Nov. 18). — Left alone, excepting for the occasions 
when her husband returns to maltreat and abuse her, Effie Neville's cup of bit- 
terness was not full until one day he dashed into their rude hut and, hastily 
concealing something within the house, said to her : "If anyone asks for me, 
tell 'em I ain't back yet." He hurries away. Aftev he has gone she enters the 
shack and finds what her husband had secreted — a bag of gold. Soon the sher- 
iff's posse arrives, but the wife tells them her husband has not yet returned. 
However, the sharp eyes of the sheriff has noted the tracks of a man, and, lead- 
ing his posse away, the man-hunt is on. They soon come into the vicinity of 
the outlaw, who, by a circuitous route, regains his house and locks himself with- 
in. The posse discovers the ruse and attack the house until the sheriff orders 
them to cease ririn^. They attempt to rush the house, when the outlaw, fir- 
ing, wounds the sheriff. Sliding down from the loft as the posse enters the 
house, the outlaw secures the sheriff's horse and hurries away. The posse fol- 
lows him, while the outlaw's wife busies herself in binding up the sheriff's 
wounds. The wife secures the bag of gold and gives it to the sheriff, and asks, 
now that the money is returned, they pursue her husbaad no further. In the 
meantime the posse has overtaken the outlaw, and on his refusal to surrender 
they fire and he is wounded. They burry him back to the hut, where the sight 
of the sheriff and his wife infuriates him. Straining at his captors to releast 
himself, he completes the work the bullet began and falls, dying, at their feet. 
The posse files away while the sheriff extends the hand of sympathy and suc- 
cor to the bereaved woman. 

THE WOULD-BE HEIR (Nov. 21). — Alone in the world, with the excep- 
tion of her worthless cousin, Ethel Rivers had learned to love her foreman, 
Jack Mason. Her cousin determines to estrange the couple, as Ethel's marriage 
would conflict with his plan to secure possession of the ranch. He confers with 


his servant and together they evolve a plot. He Is to simulate an injury, and 
the servant is to go to Ethel for succor. Then the servant is to entice the fore- 
man to a convenient spot to witness his sweetheart's perfidy. When the ser- 
vant arrives at the ranch with the washing she feigns great excitement and tells 
Ethel that her cousin has broken his leg. Ethel hurries to her cousin to help 
him, and the servant seeks the foreman and tells him that his sweetheart if 
false. The scene she brings him to witness sends a pang of jealousy through 
him and he prepares to leave the ranch. He bids the boys goodbye, but ignore! 
hit sweetheart. As he passes the hut of the servant he Is startled bv hearing 
his name mentioned and that of his sweetheart. The plotters are talking over 
the success of their plans. Jack rushes at them and assaults the cousin. He 
then returns to his sweetheart and, aftetr explanations, joy again reigns su- 
preme in the hearts of the lovers. 

AN IDYL OF HAWAII (Nov. 23).— Bob Ransom is the son df wealthy New 
York parents. He is in love with Helen Braddon, but at the opening of the 
■tory a lovers' quarrel has temporarily marred the celestial horizon. At this 
time Ransom, Sr., makes an txterisive investment In Hawaiian plantations. At 
the urgent insistence of Bob, Ransom, Sr., sends him to the Hawaiian Islands 
to take charge of his interests there. Bob arrives. One day, while strolling 
along the beach, lie chances "to catch sight of a native girl. Later he chances 
into his hut, to find the native girl much interested in his typewriter, etc. 

The native girl is daughter of tbe island potentate, but does not reveal her 
Identity to Bob. In the days that follow he teaches her American customs, and 
their admiration of each other soon grows to love. Meanwhile Bob receives 
letters from his people, telling him to return home, and that Helen will be glad 
, to see him. Bob, however, believes himself in love with the native girl and re- 
plies that he is contented to remain where he is. 

Trouble arises between the scattered island planters and the potentates. 
Bob writes his father about the trouble and asks him to come to Hawaii. 

The native girl is loved by a native high in the councils of the King, how- 
ever, and that person makes it his business to discover the romance. He in- 
forms the King, who promptly becomes furious at his daughter. Meanwhile 
Ransom, Sr., with his wife and Helen, arrive. Bob is awakened from his dream 
and finds that his real love Is for Helen. The native girl discovers it olsa, but 
too late. With the consent of the King and the disappointed lover a ruse is 
planned to poison Bob by Inviting the American to drink with the King. The 
wine is poisoned, and as Bob Is about to drink she seizes the poisoned wine, 
drains the bowl and before death claims the victim she heroically places the 
hand of Helen in Bob's. 

JACK'S WORD (Nov. 25). — Jack Burton was very active in assisting the 
sheriff of the countv in running down cattle thieves and on the occasion of 
the capture of Arizona Jim, a notorious horse-thief, he so distinguished himself 
that he was nominated for sheriff. 

Proud of the honor done him, Jack hurries to his sweetheart to inform 
her of his newly elected office, but she, having a horror for gun-fights, exacts 
a solemn promise from him never to shoot or seek to injure a fellow-man, if he 
desires her for his wife. Lurking In the vicinity, Arizona Jim, having served 
bis term in prison, and nursing a grudge aganst Burton, overhears the promise 
made and plans to turn it to his advantage. Realizing that he cannot keep his 
promise and remain sheriff, Jack sees his predecessor and In the presence of 
the assembled inhabitants of the town, turns over the office to him. The old 
sheriff is at a less to understand the reason and as Jack will not explain, his 
friends believe he has developed a "streak of vellow" and are disgusted. 

Their suspicions are confirmed when Arizona Jim, knowing he is immune 
from punishment because of Jack's promise, publicly insults him and when Jack 
does not resent it with gun-play he is branded a coward. The last straw is 
added to his endurance when Arizona Jim insults him In the presence of his 
girl. Jack controls himself, then taking the lady home he seeks his lormeuter 
in a saloon and invites him to drink. Not understanding this new attitude or 
the submissive Burt-m, Arizona aceepts the proffered drink and draws his gun 
to further humiliate Jack in the presence of his old-time friends. Jack quickly 
whips out his gun and dares the nan with the drop to choot. A coward at 
heart, Arizona looks into the muzzle of Jack's gun and his nerve failing him, 
his own gun drops to the floor. Jack takes him by the collar and Jerking him 
out of the saloon shows him up as a coward and compels him to leave the town. 
He hurries to his sweetheart's home, where the news of the Incident had al- 
ready been carried and she accuses him of having broken his promise to her. 
For an answer he draws his gun and opening the ejector shows that his weapon 
had never been loaded throughout the encounter. The news reaches his old-time 
friends and Jack is given an ovation that proves his complete vindication. 


HER OWN COUNTRY (Nor. 28). — The Mendex family, never haying had a 
child of their own, had raised the orphan daughter of an American ranger. Proud 
and arrogant themselves, they had tried to impart to their ward a spirit of in- 
tolerance for all things, excepting family pride and traditions, but in this they 
had failed. 

The crisis came in Violas life with the arrival of Juan Corte, a cousin of 
the family. Meeting the unsophisticated girl, he desires to hare ber for his 
wife. His suit is looked upon with great favor by her Spanish foster parents. 
But Viola startles them all by an indignant refusal. She steals out in the dead 
of the night in an effort to escape and she becomes lost on the desert, where 
sbe is discovered by an American ranger, who places her on his borse and bring! 
her to bis camp. In the morning she tells him her story and be determines to 
shield her from her foster-parents and lay siege to her heart. 

Leaving her comfortable at the camp he goes out to hunt. When her ab- 
sence is discovered, all is confusion and Juan Corte declares he will pursue her, 
bring her back and compel her to accede to marry him. He finds the right 
trail and coming upon the girl in the camp of the ranger, he seizes her and re- 
turns to the hacienda. Once within, the ponderous gate is locked and with tht 
key in his possession the enraged Spaniard taunts the poor girl, telling her that 
.on the morrow they will repair to the Mission and be married. Viola deter- 
mines to make one more attempt to escape. Charley Dexter, the ranger, returns 
to his camp and seeing the horse's tracks and signs of the struggle, at once sur- 
mises what has happened. He, in turn, follows the trail and comes to the ha- 
cienda. He hears Viola fumbling with the gate and calls out cautiously. She 
answers him and he knows he is on the right track. Carefully scaling the wall, 
he drops beside her. They start for the small gate, when they are discovered 
by Juan, who rushes at (he American Intruder, poniard in hand. Dexter plants 
a blow directly between Juan's eyes and he drops unconscious. Mendez aroused 
by the struggle, hurries to the gate with a gun, but already the American is 
mounted, speeding away with nls countrywoman to a life of happiness. 

THE HIDDEN TREASURE (Nov. 30).— Bill Binks sold his property and 
came home In high glee, carrying the currency, for Bill didn't believe in banks. 
Bill tried to think of an unusual place to hide that currency and finally hit upon 
an old pair of boots. Than Bill betook himself off without saying a word to his 
faithful helpmeet. Pudd'efoot Pete, awakening from a delightful slumber be- 
neath the sheltering side of a barrel, stretched himself and made way for the 
<# eats." Repeated knocks at Bill's door so incensed Bill's wife that in despera- 
tion she hurled half the articles from the kitchen at poor Pete and wound up 
with the boots. 

Getting Into the boots, Pete found a giant stack of bills. Recovering from 
his faint, he set out upon the task of making the world hapier, and Incidently 
spreading Bill's bills wherever there seemed no joy. He hired an automobile 
and set out for a restaurant. What Pete did to the chicken and the sugar It 
a scream. With a full stomach he hailed forth once more and seeing a poor 
woman grinding an organ fell to dancing, much to the happiness of all concerned. 
He left a smal package of bills behind him and sailed forth in quest of all sorts 
of funny adventures. 

Passing a grocery store, Pete stopped dead. Perspiration broke out in great 
beads on his forehead, for there staring him in the face was forty boxes of soap, 
neatly arranged on the store front. Pete didn't hesitate. Calling an express 
wagon, he paid for the soap and personally saw it taken to the wharf. Then 
he carefully piled it up and made one grand plunge into the middle of It, and 
thus did Pete get back at an ofd enemy. He woundu up the day in a remark- 
able manner. Out of a new building, friends carried an Injured workman. Pet© 
followed them sadly home. To the wife he gave what remained of his money, 
and after a brief Interval of desperate miserj, struck up a tune and went back 
to sleep on his lumber pile. 

PALS (Dec. 2). — Employed on the ranch of Thomas Wells Is old man Da» 
Matthews. Virginia, the three-year-old baby of Thomas and Kathleen Wells, is 
a constant companion to the old man and they are pals. Thomas Wells has 
discharged from the ranch a workman named Hanry Willis and his man Steve 
Johnson, for which act they both hold a grudge against the ranch owner. The 
time has also arrived when he finds himself compelled to let Dan Matthews go. 
His wife pleads with him, but he is obdurate and after giving to Dan a worn- 
out cayuse, Wells tells him he can use him no longer. 

After the departure of Dan, the wife of the rancher Is busy about house- 
hold tasks and gives no attention to little Virgie. The little one is lonely with- 
out her "pal" and, unable to find blm In the accustomed places about the house 
and ranch, she goes to seek him In the open country. He search continues until 
•he is worn out and night finds her asleep upon the open range. Henry Willie 
and his man are looking for a place in which to camp for the night and come 
upon the lseeping child of Thomas Wells. They pick up the sleeping child and 


proceed to camp under a nearby tree, on the brow of a hill and near the spot 
n-here old Dan is resting. He is hidden from them by a slight, undulation of the 
range and his moody thoughts are suddenly interrupted by the sound of strange 

At the ranch house all is confusion over the missing child, and a posse, 
headed by the father, starts out in search. They find traces of her little feet 
and follow them. Now thoroughly aroused the old man cautiously creeps upon 
the two men, who are planning their dastardly revenge. Dan fires a shot which 
kills the companion of Henry Wilis, then charges upon Willis in an effort, to 
rescue the little pal of other days. A struggle ensues, in which old Dan is 
worsted, but an opportune shot from the leader of the posse lays low the viiiian- 
ous Willis. The posse come upon old Dan and little Virgie 'in an embrace of 
greeting. The little one is given into the keeping of her father and the "boys" 
place old Dan upon a horse and gently lead him back to the ranch house, where 
an anxious mother waits. The child is given to her amid shouts from the cow- 
boys and old Dan is given a rousing welcome and theasurance that he will 
neve,- need for anything as long as the father and mother of little Virgie live. 

THE ANIMAL WITHIN (Dec. 5(. — In a lonely region of the Mojave 
Mountains lives Anne Carey with her son, Jonothan. "One day while Joncthan 
is going to the city for their week'y supplies, he comes upon the hut of Jane 
Stevens, just at the noon hour, and seats himself under a tree near her home to 
•at his lunch. TTpon his return to his home that night his mother notices in 
a is actions an attitude of indifference. While in the town, Jonothan had made 
the purchase of a shawl and some ribbons as a gift to his mother, but in passing 
the hut of Jane Stevens on his way home she had come out and asked him to 
give her the ribbon instead of taking it home to his mother. These actions had 
keen carefuly watched from ambush by Hal Evers, an admirer of the woman, 
and he is filled with jealousy. 

Jonothan goes to see Jane often and becomes more and more infatuated 
with her. The mother follows him one day to ascertain his destination and 
when she learns the truth her heart is filled with misgivings for her boy. The 
mother goes lo che -woman and pleads for her son, but an obdurate ear is turned 
to her entreaties. 

Jane Stevens has a vain nature and desires more gold with which to pur- 
chase finery and attire. She devises a scheme with Hal Evers for a daring 
holdu pof the stage coach and plans to use the unsophisticated for a dupe. 
The woman unfolds her plans to Jonothan and persuades him to commit the 
deed. At the opportune time and when the "haul" will be sufficient to justify 
their ends, Jonothan is given the signal by the wicked Jane and he perpetrates 
the robbery. In his fight he seeks and finds shlter in the hut of the woman. He 
gives her the booty. Thew oman espies the posse in the distance and quickly 
hurries Jonothan out of the hut toward a clump of underbrush. The posse ride 
up to the door of the hut and thewoman points to the brush, thereby betraying 
the hiding piace of the man who hadgiven more than his life to satisfy her sin- 
ful vanity. Jonothan turns, and seeing the posse in pursuit, rushes to his home. 
The posse fo^ow him to his home and tear him from the arms of his mother. 
A suddenly awakened realisation comes to Anne Carey that the entire wrong 
doing of her son is due to the influence of Jane Stevens and the "animal within" 
hei is fired into action. Taking a rifle from the wall of her cabin she rushes to 
the hut of the woman. Her arrival at the hut occurs during a violent quarrel 
between Jane Stevens and Hal Evers, who has come to her for his share of the 
booty. During the disagreement Jane aims a gun at Hal and shoots him. The 
mother of the wronged Jonothan now rushes upon Jane making a scathing de- 
nouncement of the mischief she has wrought and shoots her upon her own door 
step without a quaver. 

BLUDSOE'S DILEMMA. (Dec. 7). — Bill Hawkins with his latest sweet- 
heart, Anita, the Spanish dancer, came from the dance hall with Anita lovingly 
leaning on his arm. Iola, an Indian maid of fierce passions, saw the loving pair 
and in jealous rage followed them to Hawkins' cabin. John Bludsoe, on his 
claim some two miles from his cabin, made a rich strike. He hurried home, told 
his wife, had a hasty dinner, concealed the treasure in a trap door beneath the 
floor and went again to work. Mrs. Bludsoe then devoted her efforts toward 
putting the little child to sleep. Bludsoe's strike had been witnessed by Haw- 
kins who followed him and through Bludsoe's window, saw the gold secreted. 
After Bludsoe's departure, Hawkins crept through the window and made short 
work of the treasure. In an adjoining room, Mrs. Bludsoe heard the noise, and 
coining Into the living room, at once grappled with Hawkins. The child awak- 
ened by the struggle, asked who was there, and with Hawkin's gun at her throat, 
Mrs. Bludsoe was compelled to reply, "It is your father." She fought again and 
fell with a bullet in her side. 


Hawkins, with the gold, hurried from the house, little knowing that the 
jealous eyes of Iola, his discarded loter, were upon him. He went straight by 
the sheriff's window and droped a missive, asking the sheriff to go straight to 
Bludsoe's cabin. Gathering a posse, the sheriff did so just in time to find Blud- 
soe kneeling beside his injured wife. The child, in answer to the sheriff's ques- 
tion, said that the father had been with Mrs. Bludsoe, and on this evidence the 
posse made ready to lynch Bludsoe. Then Iola interfered and the posse gave 
chase to Hawkins. 

But Iola Lad preceded them. Arriving at Hawkins' cabin, she entered with- 
out knodcking and found Anita and Hawkins examining their spoils Blocking 
the door sbe bade Hawkins flee and then drawing her dangerous knife gave 
battle to Anita. Anita, with quick Spanish wit, slipped behind the table, draw- 
ing her dagger as she did so. A royal battle followed, the forms of the feminine 
combatants, one torn with wounded pride and jealousy, the other threatened witm 
frightful death rocked to and fro across the floor. Just as Iola bent her aa 
tagonist across her knee for the death stroke, the posse entered. Anita slipped 
away, Iola sheathed her knife and followed the posse. 

In the meantime Hawkins, with the aid of a rope, had let himself over a 
dangerous precipice. The sharp edge of the rock bit through the hemp and 
when his body dangled mid-way, it broke. The posse found a mangled heap of 
kuman flesh at the foot of the great divide and wended its way to the Bludsoe 
cabin, where they found Mre. Bludsoe smiling happily into the eyes of her hus- 

THE LAW OF GOD (Dec. »).— In the course of his wanderings Jim Glea- 
son had come to Montecito, where Vera Bradley, the daughter of the minister, 
attracted his fancy. In her innocence, she confides to her father and he, with 
the welfare of his daughter at heart, consults the young man as to his religious 
beliefs, and is horrified to learn that he is an Atheist. The following Sunday 
a wandering cripple stops at the church and endeavor to sell small religious 
pamphlets. The minister examines them and finding the Ten Commandments 
and other religious quotations in the book, procures a copy and urges the con- 
gregation to do the same. Vera gets a copy and meeting Jim Gleason, she shows 
him the book and is so horriQed at his blasphemous remarks that she refuses 
to see or hear from him again. 

Disappointed in love, Jim Gleason falls in with the lawless element of the 
town and becomes a great crony of the leader, Bud Black. One day Bud Black 
plans on a crime of large dimensions. If he can get Jim to throw the reraiiing 
switch outside the town at the railroads yard limit they could wreck the Sun- 
set Limited and secure a large booty. In Bud Black's gang one member, who 
has always been timid, in thinking over the magnitude of the proposed crime, be- 
gan to fear for his safety and determined to notify the sheriff. So it was that 
when Jim arrived at the scene of action his every movement was watched by 
Bud Black and his gang to make sure of no weakening, and the sheriff and posse 
was on the way to surprise the outlaws and save the train. 

In waiting for the train Jim consulted his plans which were drawn on a 
page of the pamphlet sold by the cripple and then having fixed it in his mind 
turned over the page and found "THE LAW OF GOD." And in the Holy Writ 
he finds "THOU SHALT NOT STEAL." And a vision of Vera's horrified face 
comes to him as she looked when he uttered his remarks about the pamphlet. 
"THOU SHALT NOT KILL." He starts away just as the Limited goes shrieking 
by. Bud Black and his gang watch for the expected wreck and in their anger 
at the failure of their plan they decide to wreak vengeance upon Jim. They 
start in jursuit of the fleeing man and thundering at thir own heels is the sher- 
iff's posse. Bud Black is soon within shooting distance of the intended victim, 
his gun barks and Jim falls. But now apprised that the posse is after him he 
rides with his gang for his own liberty. They are soon captured and the posse 
start on the return trip. Picking up the wounded man they return to to^n 
where Jim is left to the tender mercy of the Rev. Bradley and his # daughter. 
When Jim sees Vera his face lights up and extending his hand he places in hers 
the bloodstained "LAW OF GOD." And when Jim is able to be out again he 
visits the church as the accepted suitor of the minister's daughter, for he has 
"come into the light." 

NELL OF THE PAMPAS (Dec. 12). — Down among the pampas growers 
Nell, the daughter of old Pedro Villiar, has many suitors. In the kindness of 
her heart she has been generous to an orphan idiot who Jives off her father's 
bounty, and she becomes the idol of his eye and he follows her like a faithful 
dog. Among all her suitors Juan Cardoza is the favored one. But Juan's per- 
sonality has unwittingly aroused the affections of another woman, a half-breed 
who has desired to win him. She watches the lovers with jealous eye and one 
day, seeing Juan giving Nell a bracelet of silver, she waits until he leaves Nell 


and when he passes her she throws herself into his arms and implores his love. 
All this is witnessed by Nell and sick at heart she throws the trinket, away and 
starts home. Juan renounces the woman hut the harm is done. Enroute to 
her home, Nell encounters a stranger and takes him with her and he engages 
board with her parents. But Jim Beverly soon shows his true colors, abusing 
the poor idiot thus securing the enmity and lording it over the simple pampas- 
growers. He over-reaches himself when he insults Nell. Juan sees the attempt 
and gives him a trouncing. Smarting for revenge he plots with the half-breed 
woman to kidnap Nell, thus securing her and leaving Juan for the half-breed. 
Watching his opportune, Beverly sees Nell leaving her home one evening for 
her accustomed stroll in the pampas field and getting his horse follows her and 
is in turn followed by the idiot. Juan starts out in hope of seeing Nell and is 
followed by the half-breed woman. Jim sees Juan coming and raising his gun 
attempts to kill him but the half-breed anticipating the treacherous act springs 
in front of him and receives the bullet in her own breast, giving her life for 
her love. Jim hurries back to his horse and finds the vindictive idiot waiting 
for him. In the fight that follows both are mortally wounded, Nell, startled by 
the sounds of shooting in the night air, hurries in the direction of the sound 
to find Juan kneeling over the body of the woman. All is explained and the 
lovers are re-united. 

THE HEART OF A SOLDIER (Dec. 14). — In the twilight of his life, John 
Menton, an old veteran, finds himself alone and destitute. In desperation he 
turns to the statue of his old commander, General Grant, then to that of Presi- 
dent Lincoln, hoping in vain that one or the other might offer an inspiration, 
but in both cases the marble statues look upon his r'isery in mute silence. Dis- 
consolate, he wanders down the avenue in quest of aid. At the Revere mansion 
he pitifully begs for alms from the wealthy owners, who are about to enter 
their automobile. His plea is to be refused by this man of means, when Bob 
Lucas, the young suitor of Ruth Revere, moved by the old man's evident want, 
offers him substantial alms, which incurs for Lucas the animosity of Mrs. Re- 

On the return of the parents, young Lucas makes a strong appeal for the 
hand of the daughter, but his suit is refused and he dejectedly leaves the house. 
In due course, a locket of the madam is missing and she recalls having placed 
it on the library table at the time of her talk with Bob Lucas. All search 
proves unavailing acd she summois Lucas by telephone and on his arrival, bra- 
zenly accuses him of having stolen the locket. His earnest and strong assurance 
of any knowledge concerning the loss is totally disregarded. Sorrowful and de- 
jected, he wanders away to grieve over the multitude of catastrophes that have 
befallen him. 

In the meantime, the missing locket, which accidentally fell into the waste 
basket, passes along the route to the city dumps. Through force of circum- 
stances the old veteran has hied himself to that quarter as was his custom when 
In dire distress, to seek in the refuse of the city something that might be of 
value. Lo, and behold ! this trip is not unrewarded. Debating with himself the 
course to pursue, he finds a seat in the park, where the fates fortunately guided 
the heart-sick lover. Recognition is mutual, but what service can the old sol- 
dier render our friend? The newly found token of wealth is uppermost in the 
soldier's heart and he tells his former benefactor of his lucky find. Young 
Lucas looks, then t-tares at the locket, he scarcely can believe his eyes. Is he 
awake or are the fates taunting him? He tells the old soldier of the cloud rest- 
ing over him, and together the two hurry to the Reveres, where joy over the 
recovery knows no bounds. Old Revere liberally rewards the needy old veteran 
and young Lucas could almost mortgage his future prospects to pay the good 
fortune this vindication means to him. The heart of Mrs. Revere is softened, 
the barriers are broken down and Bob Lucas is to have the hand of Ruth for 
his keeping for life. 

The old veteran slowly repairs to the statue of President Lincoln, his heart 
too full for utterance. The shock of this unexpected joy is too great and at 
the base of the statue his frail stature falters and his soul passes on to join the 
army in the great beyond. 


GOLD AND GLITTER (Nov. 11). — As the husband leaves for the lumber 
regions, his wife gives him a memory message to be opened after his arrival. 
Attracted by a maid, cherished by the love of two old brothers, he forgets it 
until sometime later. The message serves its purpose, however, for through it, 
after a thrilling experience, the maid learns the true value of the man's love, 
while he in histurn, goes back to his waiting wife and finds there, along with 
his shame and regeneration, his heart's desire. 


MY BABY (Nov. 14). — When the double wedding takes two daughters away 
from the old man at once, the youngest, now the only one left, in outraged spir- 
it promises never to leave her father, but soon she too is departing for a new 
home. Then comes a cold hard fact of life. The son-in-law claims his right to 
make a home alone for his wife. In his bitterness and anger, the father denies 
them both the house. Several years later the lonely old man meets at the gate 
a babe in arms. When he learns whose baby it is, heart hunger craves another 
sight, and sought, brings with it the only natural result. 

THEIR IDOLS (Nov. 18). — Schmaltz and Labrun are neighbors and chums. 
Heine Schmaltz and Irene LaBrun, their respective son and daughter, are en- 
gaged to be married. All is serene until each of the chums, while having a lit- 
tle social drink, toasts and lauds his particular idol. Schmaltz, of course, holds 
Bismarck as the greatest hero that ever lived ; Labrun favors Napoleon — theD 
there is trouble. 

HOIST ON HIS OWN PETARD (Nov. 18). — Invitations are sent out to a 
grand mask-ball to be held at the Metropolitan Dancing Academy, and a feature 
of the affair is the awarding of a gold medal to the wearer of the best costume. 
The maid at Smith's house receives an invitation from her sweetheart. This in- 
vitations falls into the hands of Smith and, being of a jealous nature, he thinks 
it is intended for Mrs. Smith. This suspicion leads him into some very embar- 
rassing situations and teaches him a lesson. 

THE INFORMER (Nov. 21). — The young lover leaving home at the open- 
ing of the war to join the Confederate Army, tells his brother to take care of 
his fatherless sweetheart during the perilous times which are to follow. But 
the brother weakens and fails to be true to his trust. He permits her to be- 
lieve that her lover is dead. Caught in the neighborhood, however, between the 
lines of the enemy, the brother appears before them at the crucial moment. In 
retaliation the false brother turns informer. Both forces are aroused to arms 
and during the attack upon the girl defending her wounded lover and family 
alone in the negro's cabin, retribution comes in the form of a stray ballet. 

A SATLOR'S HEART (Nov. 25t. — A sweetheart at every port has ever 
characterized the sailor, but it is believed that the sailor in this comedy car- 
ries the tradition a trifle further. Perhaps he was sincere for the moment in 
his declaration that each girl he met was the first and only, but with a sweet- 
heart at home and one in another port and a wife in still another, fate dealt 
very kindly with him. He was the victim of his own impulse and paid back in 
his own coin, went his merry way. 

AN ABSENT-MINDED BURGLAR (Nov. 28). —Of course he is a big boob, 
but he aspired to be a hold-up man. In trying to hold up a couple of fellows 
on the street he is held up himself for thev are professionals at the game. They 
tell him to join them and become are al ■crook. The ambition of his life is 
realized. At first he looks promising to the gang, so enthusiastic is he, but later 
they are forced to chase him on account of his blunders. 

AFTER THE HONEYMOON (Nov. 28).— Willie Doodresson marries the 
belle of his home town. They are both considered the fashion plates of the 
village, and hence the pair are well matched. But six months later, after the 
honeymoon is past, what a difference ! No one would believe them to be the 
same persons — he slovenly in appearance, and she a positive slattern. Is it any 
wonder that they lose interest in each other? This little comedy is an object 
lesson, showing why many marriages are failures. 

BRUTALITY (Dec. 2). — In every man struggles the two natures in con- 
flict. Some, as in the case of the brute, pass through life dominated alone by 
the brute force, until there comes a regenerating influence arousing the latent 
good. Into his life fir3t comes the instinctive attraction for the coquetry of the 
mail, but the strength she may have fancied she admired in him turns into gross 
brutality, subduing her hidden spirit. Then two tickets for the theater change 
the entire course of his life. The Bill Sikes in the play holds up the mirror to 
the Bill Sikes in life, and both man and wife are both anew. 

THE NEW YORK HAT (Dec. 5). — The young village minister was not quite 
as discreet as he might have been in fulfilling the strange trust left by the dy- 
ing mother, but it certainly worked for the common good. By the request the 
mother desired that her daughter possess some of the finery previously denied 
her. As a result the minister and Mary were linked in a scandal, with the 
church board in judgment. Gossip received the largh, however, as it generally 
does, while the minister assumed a trust quite unexpected. 

JINX'S BIRTHDAY PARTY (Dec. 9). — Housecleaning interferes, as house- 
cleaning is wont to do, with Jinx's birthday party. His wife writes a number 
of letters postponing the affair, but Jinx, true to the tradition of. man, fails to 
mail them. The guests begin to arrive that afternoon, and Jinx is seized with 
the happy thought of pretending illness in order to evade them. His hoax is dis- 
covered, and, well — Jinx has a birthday party. 


SHE IS A PIPPIN (Dec. 9).— No one can touch hubby but herself. He Is 
strictly her own. She even interferes with his business until hubby hits on a 
plan to cure her. He writes a letter to himself, "She's at your office now. Pret- 
ty as a picture. She is a pippin." The wife- finds the letter, which was left 
behind on purpose, and rushing to the office, discovers a pippin, not the kind 
she expected, but one that made her think. 

MY HERO (Dec. 12). — Stern parents have ever been relentless obstacles In 
love's young dream, but it is perhaps quite doubtful if ever love could equal the 
accentuated bliss and anguish of these two. She refused to eat for her hero and 
for her he bore the marks of battle, an eye made black by a cruel parent's fist. 
Tired of such an unsympathetic world, they sought the wilderness, where, had 
it not been for Indian Charlie, these two "babes in the wood" would have ended 
their dream in a manner quite too disagreeable to think of. 


BLACKFOOT'S CONSPIRACY (Nov. 12).— The old blind chief, believing 
it time to appoint a new chief to succeed him, selects Swift Wind, his son. The 
latter is promised the beautiful Rainbow for his squaw, and thereby incurs the 
enmity and hatred of the warrior Black Ox, his half brother, and Dark Cloud, 
the latter's mother. Black Ox and Dark Cloud plot to get the chieftainship 
away from Swift Wind, and Dark Cloud steals Swift Wind's fur covering and 
bearstootu necklace and puts them on Black Ox. The two enter the old chief's 
tepee and make him believe that Black Ox is Swift Wind, and the old man orders 
Dark Cloud to put his head dress, necklace and other articles on Black Ox. As 
they emerge from the tepee Dark Cloud encounters Rainbow, claps her hand over 
the astonished maiden's mouth and drags her from the scene. Black Ox is ac- 
claimed the new chief- and the Indians greet him. The feast is prepared, and 
while it is in progress Swift Wind returns. He scents the treachery and, after 
a desperate knife fight with Black Ox, he succeeds in telling the old chief of the 
deception. The chief commands silence and summons the tribe, and is about to 
address them when the dread call comes and he falls dead. Despite his pro- 
tests Swift Wind is banished and the struggling and heart-broken Rainbow is 
held by Black Ox and his mother, Dark Cloud. 

Swift Wind wanders in the desert and suffers from hunger and thirst. He 
is eventually rescued by a company of trappers, who take him with them. Later 
Black Ox and his warriors attack the trappers' camp, and as Black Ox scales 
the defenders' stockade he conies face to face with Swift Wind. They have a 
knife duel, and as Swift Wind is about to kill his rival he is wounded by a 
shot from the outside, and Black Ox escapes. Dark Cloud shows Rainbow her 
wedding dress, and the latter watches her chance and escapes, after half stran- 
gling Dark Cloud. She meets the trappers on their way to punish the Indians, 
and mounts behind her lover, Swift Wind. The Indians suffer defeat, and Black 
Ox is banished and Swift Wind is proclaimed the chief of the tribe, and the trap- 
pers and Indians smoke the pipe of peace. 

TRAPPED BY FIRE (Nov. 19). — The mother is dying. She commends the 
care of her younger son, Bill, to his eldest brother, Jack, who accepts the trust. 
Jack is steady and trustworthy and has his hands full with his well-meaning 
but harum-scarum brothers. The boys go West and obtain employment on Circle 
C Ranch, where both fall in love with Milly, the ranchman's daughter. Jack 
proposes to Milly, but it is made clear to him that the girl is interested in Billy. 
As soon as Jack sees this he accepts the situation sorrowfully. The cowboys go 
off to the round-up, leaving Jack and Bill in charge. Bill and Jack go riding; 
they see the Indians drinking and scent trouble. It becomes necessary for one 
of the boys to defend the pass in order to let the other carry a warning to the 
cowboys. They draw and Jack so arranges it that Billy may get away. The In- 
dians give chase and divide up, one lot going to the ranch and the other chas- 
ing the boys. Billy warns the cowboys and they get to the ranch in time to res- 
cue Milly and her father from the burning cellar in which they have taken ref- 
uge. The Indians are repulsed and Jack's body is found and all recognize how 
faithfully poor Jack kept his trust. 

THE HALF-BREED SCOUT (Nov. 23). — The pioneers are moving West. 
The guide Dickson, and Jim are both in love with Lucy. Jim has the call. Dick- 
son cannot accept his defeat gracefully, and when Jim finds him forcing his 
attention upon Lucy, there is a struggle, in which Dickson is worsted. Dickson 
temporarily abandons the wagon train, which runs out of water on the desert. 
Great suffering results. Dickson rides ud with water and offers to supply the 
wagon train if Lucy is given him in marriage. Lucy, seeing the suffering around 
her offers to go with him, but Jim and others interfere and he rides away. 

' Jim starts out to find water and is found on the point of death by some 
trappers, who revive him. They ride in haste to the wagons and find a few 


survivors, Lucy being: one of them. The refugees are taken to the settlement. 
Later the Indians visit the settlement for trading purposes, Dickson accompany- 
ing them. He sees and recognizes Jim and Lucy, but they do not see him. Dick- 
son awaits his chance, selects a moment when Lucy is out alone, seizes her and 
rides off with her. He takes her to his squaw, Red Flower's tepee. Jim and 
tbe trappers give chase when her absence is discovered, but have to abandon 
their search. Red Flower resents tbe intrusion of the "white squaw," but re- 
lents when Lucy soothes her and attends to the bruises inflicted by Dickson 
She crawls through the back of tbe tepee with Yucy, leads her to the edge of 
the cliff and going down first, the two women cautiously descend to the bottom 
of the cliff. 

Dickson and the Indians set out to track them, bat Red Flower's cuuning 
is more than equal to theirs, and after hiding during the day, Red Flower steals 
up to the camp at nightfall and takes two horses. The women ride away. Dick- 
son and the Indians hear the sound of galloping and follow. The girls reach 
the border of the settlement just in time, and Jim and the trappers ride out and 
rescue them. Dickson and the braves are pursued, and Dickson is killed. Jim 
and Lucy are reunited. 

"AN INDIAN OUTCAST." (Nov. 26). — Black Wolf, a brave, wants Whisper- 
ing Water to be his squaw. Whispering Water is afraid of this taciturn Indian 
and refuses. He tries to carry her off, but is stopped by another Indian, Brave 
Heart, and there is a savage fight in which Black Wolf is worsted. He appeals 
to the chief to banish Brave Heart. The young brave has his arm bound, Is 
blindfolded and east out. He wanders about and falls into a deep hole. 

Wally is visiting his sweetheart Milly. He rides away, and hearing the 
Indian's cries goes to him, releases him, attends to his wounds and, putting him 
on his horse, takes him back to camp. Sometime Wally and Milly's fattier go 
hunting, and Black Pete calls at the cabin. He is a lawless man without re- 
spect for anyone. He kisses Milly and would pay her further unwilling atten- 
tion when Brave Heart, fishing near at hand comes upon the scene and worsts 
the bad man. Black Fete goes to the Indians, presents the Chief with a rifle 
and interests him in his revengeful project. He leads a band of Indians to the 
cabin, seizes Milly and has Brave Heart thrown over a cliff. The Indians then 
set fire to the cabin and dance around it. 

Brave Heart's fall is broken by some bushes. He climbs up the cliff and 
unseen runs off to the trapper's camp, where he finds Milly's father and Wally. 
The whole outfit mounts and rides to the rescue. They reach the charred cabin, 
find the trail of the fleeing maurauders and pursue them. They come up with 
them at nightfall, surround the camp, ambush the Indians and kill a number 
of them. Brave Heart hunts for Black Pete and in a hand to hand fight kills 
him and takes Milly in triumph to Wally, who folds her in his arms. 

Apache Chiefs and Sub-Chiefs, Naitche, Ketena, Tahchilsa and others, come to 
the reservation barracks and demand liquor. They are very angry at the re- 
fusal given, and Lieutenant Davis, in charge, is apprehensive of trouble. The 
Apaches return to camp and make the squaws brew tizwin, their native liquor. 
A scout sees the effects of the brew and notes the braves in full war paint danc- 
ing. The scout reports to Lieut. Davis, who sends Second Lieut. Clark, with a 
troop of cavalry, to stop the warlike preparations. The troopers go to the In- 
dian camp and the chief is informed that his tribe will be punished if he is 
not careful. The Indians show their resentment plainly and Chief Mangus's 
squaw would shoot Clark but for the interference of Mangus. After their de- 
parture, the squaw fires the braves on to action, and they start out to exter- 
minate the Pale Face upstarts. They fire a pioneer cabin, kill the man and take 
the woman off. 

Clark reports to Davis, who loads a troop to the Indian camp and confis- 
cates the tepees and takes the squaws prisoners. Mangus's squaw, Huera, being 
amongst the number. The Indians swear a terrible oath of vengeance. From 
their mountain retreat they descend cautiously to the reservation barracks and 
Chief Mangus climbs the brush stockade and rescues his squaw, Huera. An In- 
dian climbs a telegraph pole and cuts the wires to destroy communication. Da- 
vis deems it advisable to call for reinforcements. He finds the wires are cut. 
Indians see them and plan an ambush. They see the troopers enter a pass, which 
He determines upon an immediate attack and rides after the Red Skins. The 
leads to a sandy plain. The Indians race across the mountain path, enter the 
plain and bury themselves in the sand. The Cavalry comes along and falls in- 
to the trap. The Indians rise from the sand on every side and annihilate them, 
and all that is left the next day are the naked bodies of the dead troopers. 

THE RIGHTS OF A SAVAGE (Dec. 7). — A gambler is caught red-handed 
cheating at the old game of short cards, and, though wounded, he gets away, 
eludes pursuers, seeks shelter and is cared for by a semi-civilized Hopi Indian 
who takes the man to his pueblo, and in return, the gambler induces the squaw 


to elope with him. The redskin takes his loss stoically. Three years later, It 
is the fourth of July at Circle City and the ranch hands from the surrounding 
country are whooping things up, roping and tying steers, riding Ducking bron- 
chos- and the world famous cowboy pastime called "Bulldogging a Steer" are 
being indulged in, right in the main street of Circle City when we see our trio 
meet. Events from now on move quickly to a logical conclusion and the redman 
claims the inherent right of his race to revert to savagery and repay the gamb- 
ler in his own way. 


THE CIVILIAN (2 reels) (Nov. 20).— Lieutenant Wade is the favored 
suitor of Ethel Brown until a young doctor comes to the post on a visit, who 
supplants him in her affections. The attention she pays the doctor at a ball 
nearly braeks his heart, and he passes a sleepless night. In the early morning 
he orders his horse and goes for a ride. A pioneer comes to the post and asks 
for a doctor to attend hi* wife, who is seriously ill. The young physician vol- 
unteers his services, and Ethel accompanies him. On the way a wheel falls off 
the buggy, and as he is trying to put it back he sees a band of hostile Indiana 
riding toward him. Lieutenant Wade, from the top of the hill takes in the 
situation and gallops to his assistance. As Wade dismounts and hurriedly tries 
to bolt the wheel on the doctor is overcome with fear and, leaping on the Lieu- 
tenant's horse, makes his escape. Wade and the girl Jump into the buggy and 
a running fight takes place, iu which the couple are compelled to take to the 
hills. They find a cave in which they remain all night. In the morning the 
Indians take up the trail, and to save the girl he boldly draws their attention 
to himself and makes an attempt to escape, leading them away from the cave. 
Wade finally takes his stand behind a boulder at the top of a mountain pass 
and fights desperately, though severely wounded. Tbe doctor, in his mad haste 
to escapp, rides the horse over an embankment and is killed. The animal limps 
back to the post, and the soldiers, reading the message conveyed, go out after 
the Indians. The redskins are driven off, after a fight, and the Lieutenant and 
the girl are rescued. After Wade is restored to health Ethel comes to him and 
assures him of her love. 

HIS SQUAW (2Reels) (Dec. 4). — Jim Hale is engaged to a pretty girl, 
Irene Smith, and goes West to search for gold. After enduring many privations 
he finally strikes a promising vein of rock, and spends his last money for powder 
to blast with. A terrific explosion rends the mountain side, revealing no yellow 
metal. Despondent and discouraged, Jim writes to his sweetheart, releasing her 
from her er.gagmeent. and bidding her goodbye forever, and goes on his way. 
In his abstraction he becomes lost in the desert and suffers from the blistering 
rays of the sun and raging thirst. In a dying condition he is found by the In- 
dians, who bring him back to health, and Jim marries an Indian girl and be- 
comes a fur trader. 

Irene Smith and her father gc in search of Jim, joining an imigrant train. 
The Indians plan to capture the train, and Jim determines to prevent the massa- 
cre of the whites. His squaw aids him in this, and he reaches the emigrants 
and leads the women and children to a distant fort, while the men remain to 
guard the horses, oxen and equipment. The meeting between Jim and Irene is 
pathetic, Jim confessing his marriage. A terrible battle takes place between 
the whites and the Indians, while Jim leads the soldiers to the scene. They 
arrive too late, as they find nothing but the smoking ruins of the camp. The 
squaw, thinking her husband is among the slain, determines to avenge Jim's 
death, and during the night enters the chief's tent and kills him. She is caught 
by the squaws, who beat her and throw her over a cliff. She painfully drags 
herself to the door of the cabin, where Jim finds her, and she expires in his 
arms. The picture ends with a silhouette dissolving scene after a title, "The 
call of the blood," showing Jim riding slowly back to civilization — and Irene. 

A DOUBLE REWARD (Dec. 11). — Jack Williams and Nellie Wayne are in 
love, but her father favors the suit of a rich Easterner, Wm. Ford, who is 
vacationing in the West. Jack resents the latter's attentions, and during the 
argument, knocks him down. Ford attempts to draw a gun, but the two are 
separated. A horse thief gets away with Ford's horse, and as Jack has left a 
few minutes before, Ford thinks he has taken the animal. As Jack is rolling a 
cigarette by the roadside the thief asks him for a match, and when Jack goes 
to comply with his request, he leaps on Jack's horse and gallops away. Jack 
mounts the stolen horse and starts in pursuit, but is left behind. The posse 
catches up with him and he is accused of being a thief. When he is brought to 
the sheriff's office, Nellie pushes him through a door and covers his escape with 
a gun A reward is offered for his capture and Nell determines to win the money. 
She goes in search of the real thief and by a clever lariat throw, holds him 
prisoner while she ties him to a tree. She then captures Jim and secures the re- 


ward, after which she tells the sheriff where to find the thief, who is taken 
prisoner. Jack is released and elopes with Nellie. Her father and Ford arrive 
too ate to prevent the marriage, and the old man gives them his blessing, while 
Ford goes away in a rage at having been outwitted by a cowboy. 


BLUE RIDGE FOLKS (Nov. 18).— Dallas Walters and James Barker, 
two young farmers, love Ruth Barton. Dallas is the favored suitor, and this 
incites the jealousy of Barker to such an extent that he threatens to foreclose 
the mortgage on the house of Mrs. Walters, Dallas' mother. But the demand is 
met by Dalas,' much to the surprise of Barker, who then picks a quarrel with 
Dallas. A tramp who had heard Dallas tell Ruth of his payment to Barker, 
goes to Barker's house with the inteotion of stealing the money, but is caught 
by Barker. In the fight which follows the tramp hits Barker over the head, 
rendering him devoid of his reasoning powers, but Barker manages to fire a 
shot at the tramp, who, in falling down, knocks over a lamp, which sets the 
house on fire. Barker wa^ks out of the burning house unseen by anyone. Dalas 
hears the alarm, of fire and rushes to the home of Barker, believing that he is 
responsible for the fire, on account of the squabble he had with him. He is 
seen coming out by the housekeeper and is arrested. By the aid of Dallas' 
brother he makes his escape from the courthouse. They go to the mountains, 
pursued by the sheriff and his posse, where they discover Barker, whom they 
thought had perished in the fire. Barker, whose reason has been returned by a 
fall, explains his fight with the tramp who had perished in the fire. This exon- 
erates Dallas, who immediately marries Ruth. 

BILLY JONES OF NEW YORK Dec. 2). — Mario Bartini, a barber, sees | 
a newspaper article about a well-known Italian Count marrying a rich heiress. 
This gives Mario an idea, which he decides to work out. He sells out his shop 
and goes away, leaving behind him a girl whom he is about to wed. The girl's 
father, enraged at Mario's treatment o fhis daughter, swears that if ever he 
should meet Bartini he would pay dearly for his action. Several years elapse 
when we are introduced to Billy Jones, a typical youth, who is going the pace 
too strong to suit his rich father. Billy quarrels with his father, and the boy's 
independent spirit aserts itself. He tells his father that he will make his own 
way. Billy, with but a few dollars in his pocket, decides to spend the money 
for a ticket to some small town. He arrives in Bendersville broke, mit regard- 
less of that, he registers at a first-class hotel. He catches a glimpse of Mary 
McCarthy, the daughter of a wealthy contractor. It is a case of love at first 
sight with the boy ; he is determined to remain in town and make an acquaint- 
ance of the girl. Billy secures a position as time clerk on one of Mr. McCarthy's 
contracting operations, but does not realize that he is working for the girl's 
father until one day she rides up to the works in her auto to visit her father. 
Billy has an opportunity to get acquainted with Mary, and receives encourage- 
ment from her. Count Carloni is paying attention to Mary and is encouraged 
by the girl's mother, who welcomes the count as a prospective son-in-law. The 
father is indifferent, but the girl rebels and declares that she will marry a man 
of her choice and not a titled fortune-hunter. All arguments are of no avail. 
The girl promptly falls in love with Billy, which is opposed by the mother. At 
Mr. McCarthy's works is an Italian foreman — no other than the father of the 
girl whom the barber deceived. Both father and daughter have made their home 
in Bendersville. The father is hurt by a premature explosion, and, being assisted 
by Billy, is brought home. Billy becomes acquainted with Rosa, and later, when 
Billy meets Rosa at the works, he accompanies her on her way home. Mary 
sees them together, becomes jealous and refuses to listen to Billy's explanations. 
But things are put right. When Mr. McCarthy brings his daughter and the 
count to look over the works the Italian foreman recognizes in Count Carloni 
no other than Mario the barber. Billy prevents the foreman from killing Mario, 
who later escapes terrified. The Italian and his daughter explain the deception 
and the McCarthy's are thankful that the bogus count has been exposed. This 
paves the way nicely for Bil and Mary. ? 


THE CHORUS GIRL (Nov. 17).— Jack Gray borrows $50 from his friend 
the doctor. He gives the doctor his I. O. U. On the reverse side of the card 
is a message to Jack from some chorus girl, asking Jack to meet her at the 
chorus girls' ball. The doctor's wife while sewing a button on the doctor's coat, 
finds the card and thinks it is meant for her husbf.nd. She determines to dia 

guise herself as a chorus girl and meet her husband herself. This she does, but 
on her way to the ball her auto runs into a post and she is rendered unconscious. 
Jack sees the accident and carries her into his house. She revives and he induces 
her to take a few drinks. Meanwhile Jack tlephones his friend the doctor to 
call at once, believing her seriously injured. When the doctor calls he finds 
his supposed patient doing a bear dance with Jack. He recognizes his wife in 
the chorus girl, and proceeds to give Jack a very artistic beating. His wife, 
having gone home, awaits his return, showing his the card as the reason for 
her actions. He shows her the reverse side of the card, with Jack's I. O. U., and 
serious complications are thus averted. 

thegyc.ieloahlYwvesbe HER OLD LOVE (Nov. 17). — Irene before being 
married was in love with one of Lncle Sam's sailor boys. A few years later he 
returns, honorably discharged. He sees Irene on the street and follows her to 
her home. Thinking to surprise her, he enters the house and makes his presence 
known by kissing and hugging Irene. Just at this moment Irene's mother-in- 
law enters and sees this lavish display of affection. She runs out to tell hubby. 
Irene explains to her old lover that she is married and bids him to be on his 
way. Hubby returns and Jack hides in mother-in-law's trunk. She sees him 
and determines to lock him in. She looks for her keys and Jack gets out. Hubby, 
still hunting Jack with a gun, comes upon the open trunk. His mother, thinking 
him Jack, throws him in and locks the trunk. She sits on the trunk to keep 
him safe, and hubby shoots through the top of the trunk, the bullet lodging in 
her hand. Meanwhile Jack escapes through the window, and hubby, being let 
out of the trunk, nearly suffocated, upbraids his mother for falsely accusing hia 
faithful wife. 

THE QUARREL (Nov. 24). — Mr. and Mrs. Lovey are the happiest of 
newlyweds until one evening they play poker svith their friend Joker. The 
young couple have their first quarrel, and Joker tries, without success, to have 
them make up. Joker captures a burglar, takes his gun and clothes, and, dis- 
guised, compels the Love.vs to kiss and hug. Then he ties them together with a 
eurtain rope and phones for the police. The frantic efforts of the frightened 
couple to get to the telephone, and the arrival of the police, who accuse them 
of having done the job themselves, make a series of laugh provoking scenes. 

THE VALET AND THE MAID (Nov. 24). — A valet has a propensity for 
wearing his master's clothes, meets a maid who is in the employ of his master's 
lady friend. He thinks the maid is a sweel, and she imagines he is the same. He 
takes her to the theater and to supper afterwards, but greatly to his misfortune, 
picks out the restaurant where his master and the maid's mistress are dining. 
They imbibe too freely of liquid nourishment and when each is discovered by 
their respective employers and ordered to their homes, the valet upsets two 
heavily food-laden tables, and helps make a wreck of what was formerly a per- 
fectly good restaurant. The next day master and valet are walking through 
the park, the valet carrying the master's grips, when they chance to meet the 
maid and her mistress, the maid leading her mistress' dog. They see each other 
as they really are and their flirtation is at an end. 


HOPE (Nov. 16). — John Harvey believed that tuberculosis did not flourish 
in the country town in which he lived, and when he received a letter from the 
National Association for the Study and Prevention of Tuberculosis, asking him 
to aid the cause by selling Christmas seals, he was greatly amused. A week 
later he was reminded that tuberculosis did exist in his town This knowledge 
came the more bitter because it was no other than his fiancee who was the af- 
flicted one. She had left him a note that told of the discovery and her deter- 
mination to go away and be cured. 

He and the girl's father found her name registered at Bellevue Hospital, 
in New York. They went to her address, and in the small bedroom where she 
was living met with a surprise. Edith refused to return with them ! She said 
there was no place to be cured in their home town, and therefore she would re- 
main under the present treatment, uncomfortable as it was. So they went home 
with a new thought. 

How Harvey aroused the people of his town to a mighty effort ! He spoke 
to crowds like one inspired, and his slogan was insistent : "Let us build a sana- 
torium together.' Shortly after the building was completed. Not a moment 
did he lose in bringing Edith home and havin? her enter the new sanatorium. 

TIM (Nov. 18). — Tim has been having a bad time of it. His father is 
disappointed in him, for the bov has been idling away his time with the "gang" 
in the railroad yards. One night Tim comes in late, crawls through his father's 
room and curls up in a corner of his own and falls asleep. He is awakened 
before dawn by his mother. His father is sick. Tim is sullen, and goes in and 


confronts the "old man." Tim's father will never be able to work again. Tim 
gets a job. He doesn't like it the first day, for he is well knocked about. He 
goes to work again the next day, and now begins to like it.' He comes home, 
but the kitchen is empty, so he calls upstairs for his mother, ordering her to 
hurry down and fix his super for him. He pulls out his father's pipe and lights 

His motber comes slowly down the stairs with a candle. He looks up and 
starts to order, but she tels him his father is dead. He says he doesn't care; 
she leans over and tells him again. The pipe drops from his mouth; he starts 
up the stairs,pushes her aside and goes into his father's room. This changes his 
whole life. He becomes the man of the house ; his father had his turn ; now 
it's Tim's turn. He becomes a steady worker, supports his mother and becomes 
a man indeed. — James Oppenheim. author. 

A NOBLE PROFESSION Nov. 19).— The story that runs through this 
film is one of a young woman who is suddenly thrown out upon her own resources 
to make her living. When a friend of hers, a graduate nurse, tells her to come 
with her to Blackwell's Island she throws up her hands in horror, as she thinks 
BlackwelPs Island means penal institutions, prisoners, etc. She is soon enlight- 
ened, and when she arrives at the island she finds a system of the finest hospi- 
tals in the world, not even excelled in Europe, and all free to the patients. Her 
heart swells with pride as she looks around and sees she can be of service in 
the world after all. She looks with admiration upon the neat nurses in white, 
with happy smiles on their faces, a gentle word for all, and the pupil nurses 
in their blue and white. The hospital staff of smart-looking young men, all 
wrapped in their work, are also arrayed in immaculate white. The homes for 
the nurses are equipped equal to the best hotels ; every comfort is provided for 
them, even to a private hospital and beautiful halls, where they have dances, 
to which the internes are invited, and more, they are paid while learning ! 

SALLY ANN'S STRATEGY (Nov. 20). — Silas Wilkins goes to the city to 
deposit the first pa3 r ment that he received on the sale of his farm. His wife 
tells him to be careful, but he pays little attention to her precautions. In the 
city a realization of Sally Ann's misgivings comes to Silas when a "bunco steerer" 
manages to extract what he supposes to be a bundle of bills. Silas thinks that 
he has lost his all and goes home in a state of depression. After his wife has 
admonished him she shows him the bankroll, which she had taken out of his 
pocket and substituted a similar package containing a bundle of wood. Now 
Sally Ann goes to the city to deposit the money, while Silas is obliged to do the 
housework. — Louise Alvord, authoress. 

A LETTER TO THE PRINCESS (Nov. 22). — (This is the fifth story of 
"What Hapened to Mary.") Mary .arrives in a suburb of London with a letter 
to the Princess. Her movements are watched by an agent of a foreign govern- 
ment who is interested in the contents of the letter. He follows her into a 
railway cariage, where he introduces himself as being her fellow agent, and tries 
to persuade her to give him the letter. Just then the train stops and a clergy- 
man enters their compartment. 

In London, Mary gets the clergyman to take her to a hotel, from where 
she writes the Princess that she has the missing document. The letter is in- 
tercepted by her adversary, and as a result she receives a letter which purports 
to come from the Princess. She enters an automobile which she supposes to 
have been sent by her highness. Arrived at the great house, she even delivers 
the letter to the lady who demands it ; then, glancing out of a window, dis- 
covers that her adversary is the chauffeur who brought her. Just in time she 
reaches for the letter, gets it and, darting from the house, finds herself caught 
by the man. But her friend the clergyman happens to pass that way, which 
gives her an oportunity and distracts the attention of the supposed chauffeur 
that Mary has time to jump into the automobile. Pursued in the taxi, she stops 
the machine beside a wall and, running up a ladder which she finds there, drops 
down on the other side, but her enemy follows, and running to escape from him 
she finds herself in the midst of a garden party, to whom she appeals for pro- 
tection. As the chauffeur who has followed her faces the hostess, Mary sees that 
she is a person of importance, for he is evidently nonplused by the encounter, 
and then she discovers the lady is none other than the Princess she seks, and 
with her enemy standing by she delivers the letter to its rightful owner. 

CHASE ACROSS THE CONTINENT (Nov. 23).— This subject tells of 
the theft of a jewel case from one of the guests of a wealthy New York business 
man. A famous detective is called upon the case, and suspicion points strongly 
toward the niece of the hots, and the strangest part of it all is that the uncle 
seems particularly anxious to fasten the guilt upon the young lady. Subsequent- 
ly a maid discovers a secret cabinet in an old clock, and when her mistress in- 
spects it she finds a supposedly lost will which reveals the fact that her father's 
wealth and property will revert to his brother unless the young lady in question 
marries the man of her choice in the state of California on or before a certain 


date. She then realizes why her uncle was so anxious to involve her in this 
theft, in order to keep her in New York until after the designated time in the 
will. Realizing his criminal intent, she and her maid leave the house secretly, 
after revealing her plans to her lover and arranging a meeting to take place in 
Denver. Then the two girls started out on the chase across the continent against 
time and the shrewdness of a detective who, believing her flight to be evidence 
of guilt, follows by train fifteen minutes later. Chicago, Denver, Salt Lake and 
San Francisco are included in the race, and even at the very close one is led to 
believe that the chase has been all in vain, as she is arrested at the church door 
on her wedding day, when news arrives of her uncle's perfidy, bringing about a 
happy ending. • 

THE TOTVILI7E EYE (Nov. 27).— The Totville Eye is the name of a news- 
paper published in Totville. John Adams, the editor, has an assistant in the 
printing office, a kindly old fellow known as Scotty. Having at one time stuck 
type on a metropolitan daily, Scotty favors modern journalism, but his views 
make no impression on the formal Mr. Adams. Mr. Adams is suddenly called 
out of town. He departs leaving Scotty in charge. Just as Scotty and Sammy 
(the printer's devil) are about to lift the form of the page on to the old-fash- 
ioned hand press they drop it and the type is "pied." Scotty decides to set up an 
entirely new page and to that end he nominates Sammy as the reporter and sends 
the youngster out to gather some real live vilage news. Sammy is seen in the 
act of picking up several choice bits of information and rushing back with his 
stories to Scotty who hastily puts them into type. When the paper is given 
out to the vilagers the following morning the population is in an uproar, but 
as it happened in each case the publication of the sensational news works out 
well for the persons involved. When Mr. Adams, the editor, returns and dis- 
covers the audacious articles in his staid old paper he has visions of a half 
dozen libel suits, and his rage against Scotty knows no bounds for taking such 
a liberty. In the midst of his tirade he is interrupted by the various parties 
concerned, who come rushing into his office, as he supposes, to demand an explana- 
tion for his daring publication, hut to his great astonishment, they express 
themselves most gratefully for the lesson it has taught them, and thank him 
again and again. — Bannister Merwin, author. 

ON DONOVAN'S DIVISION (Nov. 30).— Donovan "fired" for Engineer 
Tracey on the fast friegbt run. The manly ways of the Dig fireman had com- 
pletely won little Kitty Carlin, the daughter and assistant of John Carlin, station 
agent at Hillsdale. Donovan adored Kitty, but dared not tell her of his love. 
The regular excursion train to the lake left Perrin Station, half way down the 
mountain, loaded with women and children. It was folowed by the fast frieght 
with Tracey at the throttle and Donovan "firing." 

All went well until the steep south grade was reached, when Tracey looked 
down across the double reverse curve that stretched three miles below. The 
excursion train had slowed down a bit to keep on schedule time, so Tracey 
applied the air brakes to avoid getting too close to the other train on the grade. 
They failed to work ! Ho quickly called Donovan and together they worked at 
the brakes, the forty heavily laden box cars behind, fast gaining momentum and 
pushing the now useless engine ahead at increasing speed. Then the yellow 
streak in Tracey asserted itself ; he prepared to jump and desert his engine. 
Donovan was at him like a tiger and together they grapled in the swaying cab 
until a blow sent Donovan down long enough to enable the cowardly engineer 
to jump. 

Donovan sprang to the throttle. God ! only a quarter of a mile now sepa- 
rated the trains. A sudden thought — there was one chance in ten thousand, and 
Donovan took it. South River station was just ahead. Quickly scribbling a 
message on the back of an order slip, he wrapped it in his handkerchief, weighted 
it with a lump of coal — leaned far out of the swaying cab and heaved it through 
the window of the little station. In one minute that message was flashed to 
Hillsdale, where Kitty was at the key, and in thirty seconds more the brave 
girl had side-tracked the excursion train and turned the switch back, sending 
Donovan and the fast freight on down the main line. 

Donovan runs the fast trains regularly now and at a certain crossing waves 
to little Mr. Donovan. — W. Hanson Durham, author. 

THE NEW SQUIRE (Dec. 2). — To the great bouse of the village comes a 
new squire in the person of an attractive young man who has recently fallen 
heir to the great estates which Manor House overlooks. Among the tenants is 
a farmer who has a burly assistant and also a niece whom the assistant intends 
to marry. On a morning ride the new squire sees the maiden and loses his heart. 
Unseen by her he follows cautiously until he learns where she lives and half in 
love of adventure and half in love of her he returns to his house, dons a work- 
man's attire and applies for a place among the harvesters in her uncle's fields. 

Of course as the love affair progresses jealousy grows apace in the breast 
of the rival and when he chances to see a stolen kiss he plans a revenge. Break- 


ing a portion of the harvesting machinery he throws the blame on the new hand 
and the squire is incontinently thrown from the place. Being a man of determ- 
ination, he telegraphs his uncle, the bishop, for a special license and taking his 
canoe goes to get the girl. He succeeds in getting a ladder to her window, but 
is attacked by his rival, and the girl receives a blow meant for him, which ren- 
ders her unconscious. Our hero, however, bests his adversary and taking the 
unconscious girl starts down the river in his canoe, the farmer and the other man 
in pursuit. To go through the lock meant a loss of time and the young man dares 
to shoot the rapids with his precious burden. He thus escapes and puts the girl 
in charge of his housekeeper. The farmer decides to lay his wrongs before the 
new squire, where, of course, he finds a most disconcerting surprise awaiting 
him. Under the circumstances one can imagine that the farmer's opposition to a 
wedding is shortlived. — Bannister Merwin, Author. 

A DOLLAR SATED IS A DOLLAR EARNED (Dec. 3).— A youth of twenty 
starts his business career with hopes of advancement and increases in salary. 
He marries the stenographer of the office. Year after year the bookkeeper works 
in the same monotonous way. Marriage, children, illness, drain the small bank 
account. At the end of twenty years the former ambitious youth is now a 
premature, tottering, shriveled old man. A young clerk reproves the older man, 
whose latent manhood asserts itself. Crushing his pride, he recalls hasty action 
and offers apologies ; but the following Saturday brings the "blue envelope." 

Unknown to her husband the wife has saved the small sum of one dollar 
each week out of his salary. When she learns of her husband's discharge and 
suspects his discouragement over inability to find employment, she carefully 
counts her savings of the past years and shows it to him. In his travels while 
searching for work he sees pictures of farming land for sale and with part of his 
wealth the happy couple purchase a farm. A year later we -see the old office 
man together with his little family healthy and happy. 

THE WINKING PARSON (Dec. 4). — The Rev. Anthony Gay is appointed 
to the pulpit of a church at Newtonville. Unfortunately, he suffers from a ner- 
vous affliction of the muscles of the right eye, causing an involuntary wink. 
Uuon his arrival in Newtonville he is introduced to his new flock by the deacon, 
each individual interpreting the wink differently. Some were shocked, others 
pleased, girls giggle and two old women matrimonially inclined, take his ser- 
iously. One, an old spinster, the other a widow, are both under the impression 
that the parson is making advances to them. They quickly respond to his winks, 
overwhelm him with attention and become insanely jealous of each other, which 
nearly results in a hair-pulling match. Finally it gets too hot for the parson, who 
realizes he is misunderstood all around and there is but one thing to do and do 
quickly — resign. His "getting away" is discovered by the two females, who pur- 
sue him to the depot. He succeeds in eluding them by grasping the platform 
of the last coach just as the train is leaving the station. — Page Spencer, Author. 

HIS MOTHER'S EOPE (Dec. 7).— Wandering in his childish gambols 
from the unwatchfid eyes of his governess, a little boy mysteriously disappears. 
Then follows the anguish of parental devotion. Time goes on, lonesome days 
and weary nights come and go, the mother's anxious outstretched arms day by 
day fall closer to her side. Whispering hope into her husband's ear she ex- 

There is a row in a gypsy camp. A scrawny youth still in his twenties Is 
defending a wretched hag from the brutalities of her husband. For his white 
act he is turned from the camp, the only home he knows, where he wandered 
some years before. The hand of fate again marks his course and eventually he 
becomes the father of a happy home. Happiness and small prosperity are but 
momentary, for in the wayward flight of time reverses befall him and the merci- 
less fangs of starvation have already begun to gnaw. 

In desperation, he enters the home of a wealthy gentleman, seated by his 
fireside. Hearing a strange noise, he turns and, crouching on the floor in abject 
fear, is the despicable form of a thief. In a climatic situation, the appar'tion 
of his wife apears ; the hand of justice is replaced by that of clemency and the 
Intruder is turned free. A strong resemblance in his face, however, causes him 
to follow. As he does the dawn of hope begins to brighten and in a strong 
heart scene, the story terminates with the return of the loved to the lost and 
the gratification of "His Mother's Hope." 

SAVING THE GAME (Dec. 9). — In the school we find jealousy In the 
shape of a substitute who is jealous of a half-back who is to play in the big 
game of the season. At the practice game the day before, Jim Ralston, the 
half-back, gets a telegram from his mother saying it is imperative for him to be 
at his home the next day to sign seme papers for the settlement of an estate. 
Ed. Hobart, the substitute, looks over Jim's shoulder, reads the telegram and 
sees an oportunity to play in Ralston's place. Billy Hanks, one of the boys of 
the colege, loans Ralston his car to drive to his home, thirty-five miles away, 
so as to be back in time for the game. Ed. Hobart gets a pal of his, Fred. 


Owens, to folow in another car, telling bira to let the gasoline out of the tank 
of Ralston's automobile. The gasoline is emptied and he, Fred. Owens, stops 
at a road house for refreshments, confident of his success. 

Upon the discovery of the loss of the power in Jim's car, the old lawyer 
starts to drive by a short cut to the nearest garage. Accidentally they run 
across Fred's automobile in front of the road house. Ralston tries to bribe 
the chauffeur. He refuses to accept but by the dint of muscular persuasion he 
is soon speeding along. In the meantime the game is very close. In fact it 
looks bad for Ralston's side and when be reaches the oval the score is six to 
six and four minutes to play. Ralston gets a big reception and proves to be 
just in the nick of time to save the day. — Chas. M. Seay, Author. 

ANNIE CRAWLS UPSTAIRS- (Dec. 10).— Annie, the daughter of tbe jani- 
tor who wears a brace and is three years old, is neglected by her parents. They 
quarrel. She finds the door ajar and crawls out and up the stairs. 

A young girl on the first floor is tempted to go out for a wild night ; her 
mother has. been unable to dissuade her. As she opens the daar to go, Annie 
crawls in. In a few minutes the girl goes back to the mirror and takes off her 
finery. Annie, neglected again, crawls out and up stairs again. 

On the second floor an e-xconvict is contemplating a burglary. He is making 
ready when Annie knocks at the door. When she comes in the man takes her 
up and kises her. He puts away his burglar's kit and Annie crawls out and up 

On the third floor there is trouble between a pair of lovers. The girl does 
not want to marry, she wants a career, so the young man says goodbye but as 
he opened the door, Annie crawls up. He picks her up, shows the lame leg to 
tbe girl. The girl hugs Annie and Annie hugs them both together. Naturally 
the young man puts her down and turns his whole attention to the young lady. 
Annie crawls out 

On the fourth floor, a seamstress is sewing at the machine and her little 
girl, a child of about Annie's age, is trying to attract her attention. The woman 
gives the child a slap and the child cries. Annie crawls in and the two begin 
to play together. The woman notices this, picks up her own child, hugs her and 
feels of her little limbs which unlike Annie's are sound and whole, and so neg 
lected, Annie has to go out and crawl on. 

By now she is so tired that she can hardly crawl up the remaining stairs. 
On the top floor a voung man, a stranger in the city, is contemplating suicide. 
He is alone, without friends and in despair. Annie comes sleepily in. He picks 
her up and she falls asleep in his arms. Very gently he carries her downstairs 
agair The janitor and his wife are still quarreling but when the young man 
apears with Annie fast asleep, they are silent, look at the sleeping child and 
draw each other close. — James Oppenheim, Author. 

NO PLACE FOR A MINISTER'S SON (Dec. 11). — In a letter from college 
Cyrus Brent tells of a plav to be presented by the fraternity. His parents, a 
countrv minister and an old fashioned wife, determine to pay him a visit and 
be present at the rendition of the play. The yarrive at the college town the 
evening before the play is to be presented and manage to locate their son's board- 
ing house only to find that he and his chums are attending a dress rehearsal of 
the play. The landlady, however, ushers them into Cyrus' room where they de- 
cide to await his return. 

In the meantime Cyrus and his college chums are struggling with their final 
dress rehearsal at the local Town Hall where the stage carpenters are very busy 
building the scenery. Their hammering finally becomes unbearable and the stage 
director calls off the rehearsal for one hour in the hope that by that time they 
will have finished their hammering. 

Cyrus and his chums avail themselves of this opportunity to finish the game 
of cards at his room in the boarding house where the old folks, unbeknown to 
him, are patiently awaiting his return. 

At the sound of the bovs' footsteps on the stairway the old folks conceal 
themselves in an adjoining room in order to surprise their son. They see Cyrus 
and his chums enter, and throw off their overcoats, disclosing their stage cos- 
tumes. One young man represents a gay young thing in a harem skirt and an- 
other a ballet dancer with a short gauze skirt. They resume their game of 
cards, the old people watching them from their hiding place. When, however, 
they see the "ladies" smoking cigarettes, they are filled with indignation at 
their son's downfall and burst into the room upbraiding him and his brazen 
associates. Explanations follow and wigs are removed to the satisfaction of 
the old people who decide that college life is too deep for them. — h,. K. Lornn, 


FOG (Dec. 13). — We are introduced to Liz, an East Side vender of vege- 
tables and we see her driving her moke through the East End of London. The 
next scene shows Lady Cecily of Park Lane breaking a pearl necklace which 
the Honorable Jack Penderberry offers to have repaired for ber. As the Hon- 
orable Jack leaves the house and travels past Hyde Park Corners and down 
Picadilly, a London fog begins to fill the air and soon he finds himself wander- 
ing helplessly in its obscurity. 

A member of the under world, familiarly called "the rat," who has been 
talking with Liz and her father, hears a sound in the distance and following 
the scent, comes up behind the Honorable Jack and bowls him over with a blow 
on the head. The handsome young man falls at the feet of Liz and when "the 
rat" comes to complete his work and rob his victim, Liz, who has been struck 
by the looks of the stranger, protects him. Her father backs her up and "the 
tat" is sent about his business while Liz and her father take Jack home. They 
find that he has entirely lost his memory of the past and Liz decides that she 
will keep him and make him learn to love her, so she rides the pearls in what 
she considers a safe place and Jack begins a different life which continues un- 
til Lady Cecilly joins a slumming party one night and stumbles into a restaur- 
ant where Jack and Liz are having supper. Then the cloud clears from Jack's 
mnid but Lady Cecily seeing him with Liz cannot understand the situation and 
refuses to hear any explanation. That night in the wharf cottage, Liz realizes 
that she has really lost the man she loves and that his happiness depends on 
her making his peace with the girl he loves. She makes the sacrifice and find- 
ing Lady Cecily at home, tells her how it all happened. — Bannister Merwin, 

A CHRISTMAS ACCIDENT (Dec. 14). — The Gilton's are next door neigh- 
bors to the Biltons. The houses are exactly alike and adjoin each other ; the 
back yards are even unseparated by a fence. Gilton is a crabbed old money- 
maker and childless while his wife has grown submissive through years of con- 
tinual nagging. 

The Biltons are a happy family of seven : poverty and scrimping have not 
soured them. The struggle to maintain his wife and the little ones has left 
Bilton threadbare, it is true, but the loving wife and tive pairs of little arms that 
crept around his neck each morning and night were worth the fight. The fact 
that old Gilton fumed and fussed about the children sometimes stepping over 
the line of his backyard, bothered him only in so far as he disliked discord : 
and when Gilton's dog was poisoned Bilton was as sorry as though it had been 
his own, yet old Gilton accused him of having been the poisoner. Even the 
heart-broken sobs of Cora Corelia, Bilton's sweet little daughter, over the death 
of her canine playfellow, failed to convince the crusty old man. When the gro- 
cer's boy delivered Gilton's order to Mrs. Bilton and she cooked the dinner, 
thinking her husband had sent the things home, Gilton was almost ready to 
commit murder. 

As Christmas approached the Biltons were hard pressed but gave their lit- 
tle store to the children to buy presents, telling them that Santa Claus was too 
poor to leave them a turkey. 

On Christmas eve old Gilton staggered home in a blizzard, the turkey for 
Christmas dinner under his arm : on the porch that led to the twin doors of 
his house and Bilton's a terrific gust of wind and snow closed his eyes and hor- 
ror of horrors, he entered the home of the hated neighbor. Blinded and cold, his 
entire figure snow covered, he stepped into the midst of the Biltons, gathered 
as they " were about the table laden with the cheap presents listening open- 
mouthed to Bilton reading "The Night Before Christmas." The children's vis- 
ion of cheery Santa was rudely interrupted by Gilton's snow covered figure. To 
them he was a real Santa Claus. 

In a beautiful closing scene old Gilton's flinty eyes filled with tears and 
the breach between the families is closed as though the spirit of Santa Claus 
himself had welded it. — Annie Elliott Trumbull, Authoress. 


THE DANCE AT SILVER GULCH (Nov. 19).— A dance is held one night 
at Silver Gulch hall, and Joe Barton attends, in company with Mildred, his 
sweetheart. One unwelcome guest is Jim Silver, a cowpuncher, who is an old 
sweetheart of Mildred's. Mildred's refusal to dance with Silver infuriates him, 
and he is attempting to embrace her when Joe enters the hall, knocks Silver to 
the floor, and the two are separated by friends and their guns wrested from 
them. Silver leaves, swearing vengeance, and a few moments later Joe gallops 
madly after him to force an apology. Far out on the trail Silver's revolver 
accidentally explodes in the holster, wounding him severely. A moment later 
Joe finds him stretched oat in the trail with his horse grazing nearby. In a 


terror of fear Joe gallops away, frightened at the thought that he may be ac- 
cused of the shooting. Silver is found by Graham, a ranchman, who carries 
him into the house and summons the doctor. Graham's daughter, Rose, informs 
the sheriff, who immediately suspects Joe and sets out to find him. Joe is tak- 
en as he comes from the town saloon, and the next day is brought to trial. A 
friend, feeling the evidence is all against Joe, fires a shot through the court- 
house window, that enables Joe to escape during the excitement. Reaching his 
sweetheart's ranch, he is concealed in the loft of the barn. Meanwhile Silver 
regains consciousness and signs a statement of Joe's innocence in the shooting. 
This is carried to Mildred by Rose ; Joe is called from the barn and immediately 
start 1 : on a run to town to inform tbe sheriff. He reaches the office just as the 
posse is returning from the search, is congratulated by the boys and starts abck 
with the girls as the punchers give them a rousing cheer. 

THE SCHEME (Nov. 20). — Old Bickley refuses to allow his daughter, Ber- 
tha, to attend a ball with Bert Brisk, her sweetheart. Now, Bickley intends to 
take Bert's charming aunt, whereupon Bertha has an idea to bring her father 
to terms. Taking Bert and his aunt into the scheme, Bertha proposes to attend 
the ball dressed as a man, declares she will flirt with the widow, arouse her 
father's jealousy and trap him iuto fighting a duel. Then, having scared the 
old man to death, she will reveal her true identity, and have the laugh on him. 
This plan is carried out, and old Bickley is forced into the supposed duel to 
the death with bis disguised daughter. In the bright moonlight, at the edge 
of a wood, they meet, and Bickley is now put through a farcical "third degree," 
when a group of friends, made up as undertakers and grave-diggers, measure 
him for his grave and stalk around him with solemn visages and uplifted spades. 
Bickley nearly dies of fright, and frantically pleads with his seconds to call 
the duel off. 'Meanwhile Bertha and Bert are nearly dying of laughter, and the 
widow is enjoying the scene immensely. The two duelists are finally placed 
back to back, each with a huge revolver in hand, and. after several copious drinks 
of whiskey, Bickley gains enough courage to die, if need be. Of course, as they 
are about' to fire, the widow throws herself between them and pleads with Ber- 
tha to "snare" her father's life. This is the cue for Bertha to throw off her dis- 
guise, and old Bickley is so astonished and happy that he readily consents to 
the marriage of the young couple, after planting several resounding smacks up- 
on Bertha's upturned face. 

BILLY McGRATH'S ART CAREER (Nov. 21). — This time Billy attends 
an art exhibit of the new French "impressionistic" style, in company with his 
fiancee, Catherine Van Zandt, and her mother. Billy is introduced to the ar- 
tist, Lecomte, bat insults the dauber greatly at his display of ignorance over the 
paintings. Strolling down the gallery, Billy meets Ruth Radcliffe, an art stu- 
dent, whom he immediately takes a great interest in. That night he calls on 
Catherine, who declares he must do something to distinguish himself before 
she will be his wife. Billy is stumped, but happening to visit the art gallery 
again, he finds Ruth in tears, and learns that she is forced to return to her 
countrv home because of her parent's poverty. Taking her boarding house ad- 
dress, Billv returns home. Deciding to distinguish himself in art work, he goes 
in for the' new impressionistic style and succeeds in making a fine lot of daubs 
of everything, including James, his butler. One of these daubs he angrilv smears 
up and during his absence Catherine and her mother call, see the painting, 
think it marvelous and take it with them, leaving a blank check for him to fill 
out at his own figure. The result of this laughable experience gives Billy an 
idea. He visits Ruth, smears up all her paintings, calls in a group of wealthy 
friend= and disposes of the daubs for a large sum of money. Ruth is now en- 
abled to finish her art course, while Billy, supremely happy o^er the fact that 
he has really done a big thing, lights his pipe and dreams happily cf approach- 
ing wedding chimes. 

THE PENITENT (Nov. 22). — Bob Arling and Hugh Thompson, two chums, 
are rivals for the love of pretty Alice Danville. Hugh wins her, and Bob, though 
heartbroken, wishes them life happiness. A few days later Professor Danville, 
a noted scientist, is experimenting in bis laboratory, when Alice enters. In 
spite of his precaution, she causes an explosion of chemicals that renders her 
blind Hugh now shows the despicable side of his character in tiring of his 
blind sweetheart, and transfers his affection to Dorothy Haddon, Alices cousin, 
who is paying her a visit. Bob notices Hugh's fickleness and upbraids him an- 
grily but Hugh refuses to listen. Still loving Alice with all his heart. Bob 
give's her every kindlv attention. Dr. Hardcastle, a noted specialist, now ex- 
amines Alice's 'eyes and agrees to perform an operation he believes will restore 
her sight. This operation is successful and Alice is overjoyed Hurrying out 
into the bright sunshine to find Hugh and surprise him, she discovers he Mid 
Dorothy together and realizes his perfidy. Pretending to still affect her blind- 
ness, Alice approaches them ; then suddenly reveals the truth just as Bob comes 


on the scene. Stricken with remorse, Hugh leaves, while Dorothy humbly asks 
Alice's forgiveness. A few hours later, in the quiet of the conservatory, Bob 
again asks Alice to he his wife, and this time does not ask in vain. 

BRONCHO BILLY'S HEART (Nov. 23). — Old Silas Jordan, a settler, finds 
that his horse is not able to pull the heavy load demanded ,and discovers the 
well-fed broncho of Jim Davis, a rarichman, staked out near the trail. Jordan 
deliberately takes the broncho, hitches it to his wagon and drives on. A few- 
hours later he stops to cook dinner, and meets Broncho Billy, who has a great 
romp with Jordan's children and eats with them. The meal finished, Broncho 
bids Jordan goodbye and rides on. Late in the afternoon Broncho meets Jim 
Davis and a bnnch of his cowboys, who are on the trail of the missing horse. 
Davis tells Broncho of the matter, declares that they will string up the man 
who has stolen the horse, then gallop on. For a moment Broncho studies, then 
suddenly remembers that Jordan was driving a horse answering Davis' descrip- 
tion and leading another behind the wagon. Realizing the danger of the old 
settler if he is caught, Broncho rides desperately down the trail, .overtakes Jor- 
dan and offers to trade horses with him. Jordan agrees .exchange is made, and 
Jordan goes on. Turning the white horse loose on the trail, Broncho finds a 
good place nearby to bunk for the night, and has just pillowed his head on his 
saddle when he sees Davis and the boys gallop up, identy the horse and, think- 
ing it had merely strayed away, gallop back up the trail. With a deep sigh of 
satisfaction Broncho lights a sigarette and nuffs away contentedly, with a grim 
smile playing over his brown face. 

MR. HUBBY'S WIFE (Nov. 26). — Mr. Hubby, who attempts to flirt with 
his pretty stenographer, has his face soundly slapped by the girl and she leaves 
at once. Getting his friend Hobbs on the 'phone, Hubby asks him to send up a 
peach of a stenographer and Hobbs does so. Cassie proves to be a bewitching 
girl, and Hubby is making outrageous love to her when his wife enters and 
catches them. She gets rid of Cassie in short order, upbraids her unfaithful 
spouse and makes him carry her grips to the station, as she is planning a trip 
to the country. Hubby accompanies her halfway ; then begs off and she allows 
him to return. But she does noL take the train. Instead, she plans with her 
friend, Mrs. Briggs, to cure Hubby of his flirting. Next morning Mrs. Briggs, 
disguised as an ugly old maid, is installed in Hubby's office as stenographer by 
Mrs. Hubby ; then Mrs. Hubby again departs, supposedly to take the train. 
But she makes a detour, returns to the office during Hubby's absence, changes 
places with Mrs. Briggs and prepares for Hubby. Thinking wifie gone, Hubby 
returns and starts to dictate a letter to Cassie, saying wifie was gone to the 
country, etc. Then suddenly Mrs. Hubby throws off her disguise, and Hubby is 
mauled about the office until he is a sight, by the enraged woman. He finally 
promises to be good, and she forgives him. 

THE STAIN (Nov. 27). — Fred Winters, a young chap, loves Miriam Shelby. 
Calling on her one evening, Fred is about to propose, when his chum, Arthur, 
enters, and Miriam appears to slight Fred with her attentions to Arthur. Fred 
leaves and, in his room, contemplates ending his life. Falling asleep, he dreams 
of his ancestor, Rosny, who loves the fair Lady Madeline. Louis, a gallant, 
is also a suitor for Madeline's hard. Finding them together one morning, Ros- 
ny insults Louis, a duel is fought and Louis is slain. Seeking out the Duke, 
Madeline's father, Rosny demands her hand in marriage. Forced into the un- 
ion with Rosny, whom she loathes, Lady Madeline dies of a broken heart, and, 
the repentant Rosny is left to mourn beside her bier. Tossing in fitful sleep, 
Fred is suddenly awakened and has only time to hide the revolver when Arthur 
hands him a letter that has just been brought to the house. Tearing it open 
Fred finds it is from Miriam, asking why he left so hurriedly and to be sure 
to come and see her next evening. Realizing the folly of his intended step, 
Fred warmly wrings his chums hand and rejoices at his self-salvation. 

THE BOSS OF THE KATY MINE (Nov. 28).— Joe Benson, foreman of the 
Katy Mine, breaks the rules one day by taking a drink of whiskey while at 
work. He is seen by Bushnell, the mine boss, who lectures him severely. At 
noontime Mrs. Benson brings Joe's dinner. Starting home she is called into 
Bushnell's office, and the scoundrel attempts to force his love upon her. Looking 
through the window, Benson discovers the situation, bursts in, knocks Bush- 
nell down and takes his wife home. A few days later Mrs. Benson calls on 
Bushnell and begs him to uput Bei son back to work. Bushnell agrees to do so 
if she will leave her husband. Desiring to get Benson away from the mine, 
Bushnell has one of his men attempt to intoxicate him. An hour later Bushnell 
leaves a note at Benson's home, advising Mrs. Benson he will await her answer 
at his office that night. Staggering into the house Benson finds the note, se- 
cures his revolver, goes to B'.shnell's office with the intention of killing him, 
only to find the mine boss dead on the floor from a stroke of apoplexy. Seeing 
that providence has stayed his hand, Benson returns home and joins his wife 
and little one in a prayer of thanksgiving. 


THE IRON HEEL (Nov. 29).— Old Abner Wiley, a wealthy and crabbed 
miser, is rescued from some tormenting boys by the son of his bitterest enemy, 
Robert Gregg. Back in ibe Rebellion days, Wiley and the elder Gregg both loved 
the pretty Laura. Gregg won her and Wiley has nursed his revenge long after 
Gregg's death. Discovering the identity of the younger Gregg, Wiley concocts 
a liendish plan to bring about his revenge. He makes Gregg heir to all his pos- 
sessions. In his excitement young Gregg leaves his heavy walking stick in 
Wiley's library. Next morning Gregg is arrested at the breakfast table for 
Wiley's murder. An investigation of the miser's library reveals the walking 
stick blotted with blood, and the entire room showing evidences of a struggle. 
Detective Ross discovers pieces of Wiley's personal belongings in the ruins of a 
burned house nearby, and Gregg is further accused of having burned the body 
after the murder. He is tried, convicted, and sentenced to death. On the morn- 
ing of the execution Ross is at headquarters when one of the attendants passes 
him with a tray of empty dishes. Instantly Ross recals seeing Wiley's maid 
coming from the second floor of the old house with a similar tray of dishes. 
His brain working rapidly, Ross rishes to the Wiley home, places the maid and 
butler under arrest, then lights a smoke torch, places it in the hallway, and 
shouts "Fire !" loudly. Suddenly, through the dense smoke, a panel in the wall 
slides back and old Wiley, trapped like a rat, staggers out in a paroxysm of fear. 
Captured by Ross, and realizing his dastardly scheme has come to naught, Wiley 
dies of heart failure, while Ross reaches the jail in time to stop Gregg's exe- 

BRONCHO BILLY'S MEXICAN WIFE (Nov. 30). — Broncho marries a 
Mexican girl at the earnest entreaty of her dying father. Later a Mexican singer 
wins her love and, to get Broncho out of the way, she has him arrested and 
jailed on the charge of having assaulted her. In a frenzy of rage, Broncho se- 
cures the sheriff's revolver, escapes from jail and tracks the pair at his shack. 
Meanwhile the Mexican singer's sweetheart, jealous of his attentions to Bron- 
cho's wife, reaches the shack first and, when Broncho bursts in, gun in hand, he 
funds the pair dead on the floor, her knife having found both their false hearts. 

WESTERN GIRLS (Dec. 3). — Netty Parker and her sister, Mildred, two 
brave Western girls, are instrumental in capturing two notorious outlaws in 
the cleverest of ways. Returning from town early one evening, they discover 
two bandits who have held up the afternoon stage, laughing over the division 
of the loot. Dashing back to the ranch house the girls find that the cowboys 
have not returned, and daringly resolve to capture the bandits themselves. Don- 
ning cowboy costumes they ride back to the bandits' rendezvous, approach them 
unaware, hold them up at gun s point, bind their arms and start them off down 
the trail with a noose about their necks. Meanwhile the sheriff has been noti- 
fied of the holdup, and is securing a description of the outlaws from the fright- 
ened passengers, when suddenly the girls appear driving the bandits before them 
Explanations are made, the girls are warmly congratulated upon their daring 
bravery, and the sheriff takes the prisoners in charge while the girls start back 
to the ranch, followed by the cheering cowboys. 

ALMOST A MAN (Dec. 4). — At the Spinsters' Rest the old maids gaze anx- 
iously through the gate at each passing man, and sigh as they pass by unheed- 
ing. Meanwhile, three jovial tramps discover a newspaper and stating that all 
spinsters are welcome at Spinsters' Rest. Being in need of food and drink, 
the tramps plan to gain adm it-tar- ce to the home. Securing some female at- 
tire from a trunk in the rear of the theater, the tramps rig themselves up as 
old maids, gain admittance to Spinsters' Rest, and have the meal of their lives 
at dinner time. Everything would have passed off serenely if it had not been 
for the people from the theater, who are searching for the missing clothes with 
the help of the sheriff. Tracking the tramps to Spinsters' Rest the sheriff en- 
ters just as the poor fellows have been found out through one of their number 
losing his wig in leading a dance. The theater manager identifies the clothes 
and the sheriff drags the tramps off to the calaboose, while the old maids be- 
moan the sad fate that again loses them the chance of getting a man. 

THE SUPREME TEST (Dec. 6). — Eva and Raymond are sweethearts in 
school, and their betrothal is sealed with a sun-bonnet kiss. In the years that 
pass Raymond graduates through college, marries Eva and they enter their 
beautiful new home, the gift of Raymond's father. A few months later, at a 
fashionable reception, Raymond meets Lois Whitehall, a siren, who fascinates 
him. In the days that pass he spends most of his time with Lois, and is cold- 
ly indifferent toward his pretty wife. Discovering his infidelity, Eva leaves a 
note, saying she is returning to her mother on the afternoon train, and starts 
for the railway station. Meanwhile, Raymond discovers that Lois is merely 
trifling with him, furiously upbraids her and hurries from the house. Arriv- 
ing home he is handed Eva's note and a moment later reads in the paper that 
her train has been wrecked and her suitcase found. Crazed over her evident 
death, Ravmond is about to end his life when Eva enters in time to prevent the 
suicide. Fortunately she had missed the doomed train. For a moment Raymond 


thinks her a phantom, then sinks on his knees before her, begs her forgiveness, 
and the compassion within her heart again restores happiness to the little house- 

BRONCHO BILLY'S LOVE AFFAIR (Dec. 7).— Winnie Allen, a pretty 
Western girl, is loved by Dan Wild, whose father owns the Circle C ranch. Bron- 
cho Billy, foreman of the Circle C, also loves Winnie and she favors his suit. 
Knowing this, and to make his way clear, Dan persuades his father to dis- 
charge Broncho. Broncho is unable to learD the cause of his dismissal from 
Wild. Dan now manages to secure Winnie's engagement ring from her room, 
forges a note in her writing, telling Broncho she is returning the ring, because 
he has been discharged for dissipation, then pins the note and ring to the door 
of Broncho's shack. Broncho fiuds it, and unsuspicious of the trickery employed, 
leaves the county. Years later young Wild, now a dissipated ruffian, is mar- 
ried to Winnie. Taking her meager earnings, he goes to the town gambling 
hall, becomes involved in an argument and kills one of the punchers. Broncho 
Billy, now sheriff, is advised of the shooting and immediately starts out to find 
Wild. Mortally wounded, Wild staggers back to his shack, and gasps out his 
story to Winnie, who does everything possible to alleviate his suffering. Track- 
ing Wild to his shack, Broncho enters and recognizes Winnie. Realizing death 
is upon him, Wild now makes a full confession of the despicable way in which 
he won Winnie for his wife, secures Broncho's promise to care for her always, 
and dies. 

THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS (Dec. 10). — Leandre and Jacques, two 
young Italians, are in love with Francesca Tonelli, a beautiful girl. Leandre is 
favored by Francesca. One night a dance is to be held and Leandre writes 
Francesca pleading with her to wear a red rose if she returns his love. By 
chance Jacques secures possession of the letter and, in a fenzy of jealousy, 
changes the word "red" to "white." All unknowing of the trickery involved, 
Francesca innocently wears the white rose and Leandre leaves the town with a 
broken heart. Taking opportunity of the chance offered, Jacques wins Francesca 
for his wife. The years pass and Leandre has become a monk. One day a 
poor girl falls exhausted at the cloister door and Leandre is horrified to dis- 
cover it is Francesca. He cares tenderly for her, and then learns for the first 
time of Jacques' perfidy and that he has deserted her. Francesca dies, and Le- 
andre swears to have revenge on his false friend — though bound by his eternal 
vows. Years pass and one night a stranger falls senseless at the monastery 
door. Leandre carries him to his room and there, by the flickering light of a 
candle, recognizes the wasted face as that of Jacques. Whipping a knife from 
Jacques' belt, Leandre raises it aloft. Suddenly the candle is dashed to the 
floor and the room is left in blackness. Gradually a shaft of light penetrates 
the gloom and falls upon the crucifix on the table. Then the form of Leandre, 
with repentant face, crawls to the table and bows before the crucifix, while his 
lips move in silent prayer. 

TIME FLIES (Dec. 11).— Reed desires to get out of helping his wife bang 
pictures in order to join in a "Kelly pool" game with the boys. So he sends 
himself a telegram advising there is important business at the office and orders 
the messenger to deliver it at seven that evening. Of course the messenger for- 
gets, and poor Reed puts in an evening of torture hanging pictures and waiting 
for the message. About midnight the message arrives, Mrs. Reed reads the 
fake business meeting, routs poor Reed from his good sleep, throws his clothes 
on, and despite his vehement protests, hustles him out of the house and com- 
mands him to go to the office at once. Reed finds peaceful sleep again on a 
park bench, and, a moment later, an escaping crook throws a bundle of loot be- 
side him, an officer discovers the package and Reed is dragged to the station 
as being a thief. Unable to obtain bail, poor Reed stretches out on the hard 
bench and groans miserably as he sees visions of his buxom spouse snoozing 
peacefully on her downy couch. 

THE PROSPECTOR (Dec. 12). — Jim Clayton, a prospector, strikes gold, 
stakes out his claim, and starts for the nearest town, some miles away, to file 
the property. Overtaken by night, he stops at the shack of Sam Dunn, a surly 
old squatter, and asks for shelter. During the course of the evening, Jim dis- 
covers that Dunn is brutal toward his widowed daughter and her little girl, and 
resolves to aid her if he can. Dunn and his son now give up their bed to Jim 
and leave the shack, supposedly to sleep in the barn. Late that night Anna, 
Dunn's daughter, overhears her father and brother plotting to rob Clayton. She 
sends her little girl down to warn the prospector, and, when the plotters enter, 
Jim wounds the son in the arm and is struggling furiously with the old squatter 
when Anna enters, fescues Jim at gun's point and, with her little girl, rides 
away with the young prospector to town. Jim now marries Anna, in order to 
protect her for life, and next morning they ride back to the shack. Old Dunn 
is persuaded to give his blessing, then Jim offers him a partnership in the mine. 
Thus matters are happily adjusted. 


THE ERROR OF OMISSION (Dec. 33). — Tommy Lawton is born into the 
world and his father, one of the common type of careless parents, neglects to 
register his birth certificate in the flurry resulting from having a young bull pup 
sent him from a friend. The dog is registered at once, however, and the con- 
trast of the two registry offices is startling. Before the dog registry office a 
huge crowd clamors for attention from the overworked clerks, while at the birth 
registry counter the clerks yawn and nod over their neglected books. Tommy 
grows into a sturdy lad, and his father has the greatest difficulty in securing 
him a place in the public school because of his birth never having been regis- 
tered. At the age of fourteen Tommy is left alone in the world by the death of 
his father and attempts to secure work. A truant officer intervenes and Tom- 
my, unable to prove his exact age, is unable to look for employment. The years 
pass on aud Tommy is now a young man, in love with pretty Eva Cushman. 
Feeling himself of age aDd desiring to cast his vote for a staunch friend of 
Eva's -father, Tommy tries to register at the polls, but is challenged because of 
his youthful appearance and, not being able to prove his age, is turned away. 
Later he endeavors to secure a marriage license, but it is the old story — he can- 
not prove his age and is rejected. One morning he receives a letter advising 
him that he has inherited a fortune if he can prove his identity. Again the 
neglect of registering his birth almost loses Tommy the fortune until he hap- 
pens to discover his father's old dog. registration paper, on the back of which 
is carelessly scribbled : "Alsa became the father of a fine, bouncing boy on this 
date/' With this scrap of good luck, Tommy hurries to the lawyer, proves his 
identity by revealing an odd birth-mark on his neck, and is rewarded with the 

ALKALI IKE'S MOTORCYCLE (Dec. 14).— One night all the boys of the 
Seven Up Ranch are invited to the house to meet Bud Simp?on's niece from 
Lizardhead. After hours of brushing up his dusty best clothes, Alkali Ike finally 
rigs himself out and, with a freshly washed rubber collar roped about his neck, 
chases into the ranch house where he finds the lovely Soffie seated at the or- 
gan, surrounded by the boys, who are industriously screeching their heads off 
in an endeavor to sing. Alkali Ike vainly attempts to elbow his way through 
and get a sight of the fair Soffie, but in vain, and is finally thrown out of the 
house by the boys. But his wooing is not in vain, and the next morning a mo- 
torcyclist arrives at the ranch and stops for a while. Alkali immediately sees 
possibilities in the machine, buys it outright, and invites Soffie to take a spin 
with him along the trail. She delightedly agrees — and then the fun begins. Of 
course Alkali loses control of the mechanism and the wildest of rides ensues. 
Finally the machine lands in the creek, and there we leave Alkali in the hands 
of the enraged Soffie, who does things good and plenty to him. 


THE LIGHTING OF LOVE'S WAY (Nov. 12). — Adolph, a half-witted hunch- 
back, loves a girl who is loved by Miles, a lighthouse tender, whose affection 
she returns. They have a clandestine meeting, as her father objects to Miles. 
Later Miles and the girl are married in a boat, while the father rages on the 
shore. A month later Adolph cuts the wires and punches holes in the oil tank 
at the lighthouse. Miles, the keeper of the lighthouse, finds that the light 
will soon be extinguished, as holes have been bored through the oil tank. He 
goes ashore for oil. 

The hunchback, who is laboring under a delusion that the lighthouse keep- 
er's wife is held a prisoner by her husband, comes in the house and asks her 
to go away with him. She refuses to leave, and he ties her to a chair. Then he 
goes up to put out the light. A steamer is seen approaching. Adolph is just 
about to put out the light when the wife breaks loose, runs upstairs, and after 
a fight she throws him from the lighthouse window and manages to keep the 
light burning until the ship is safe. Then she aud her husband search for the 
hunchback and find him clingiug to a boat and almost dead. They resolve to 
care for him in the future. 

THE TONGUELESS MAN (Nov. 19). — The tongueless man comes into the 
lives of a young artist and his wife in a rather mysterious manner, but later 
proves a valuable help in straightening out the tangle of their lives. He be- 
comes the devoted servitor of the artist and enters into their life as though he 
had ever been a part. The couple are dissatisfied with their lot, each not know- 
ing why their love for the other has grown cold. She has not awakened to the 
full realization of her love for her husband, and he, man-like, allows the days 
and weeks and months to drift by without one demonstration of love. One day 
a supposed friend, another artist, comes into their lives, and, realizing the sit- 
uation, makes desperate k>ve to the wife. He falls in his conquest in compro- 
mising the wife, but, instead, awakens in her the real love for her husband, but 


the observant husband sees nothing but that his wife has ceased to love him and 
loyes another. At last, in desperation, the husband goes out with the inten- 
tion of destroying his supposed rival, but the tongueless man stops him at the 
psychological moment and rescues him from a serious attempt at crime and un- 
tangles the situation by showing the husband that his wife has done nothing 
but indulged in a light flirtation, and proves that the wife really loves him. The 
supposed friend is frightened away by the tongueless man, and a happy recon- 
ciliation is effected. 

"THE TOLL OP THE SEA" (Nov. 26). — The supervisor of a small fishing 
village offers a money prize for the biggest catch of fish on a certain expedition. 
The young wife of John is anxious that the husband win the prize, for there 
is shortly expected an addition to the family and the money is badly needed. 
The vixen of the village is. in love with John but he repels her advances. 

On the morning of the expedition the weather is very stormy and the old 
fishertnan feel that to go out will be dangerous, but John urged by the wife goes 
even against the protests of the vixen. The big storm that follows breaks up 
the fishing expedition and many are drowned. Many bodies are washed up on 
the shore but John never returns. The vixen taunts the young wife with hav- 
ing urged her husband to go on the voyage against the better advice of the oth- 
ers, and eventually makes her believe that she alone is responsible for her hus- 
band's death. Thris drives the young wife insane and she wanders the beach 
day by day looking for the lost one. At last with the idea of still searching 
for her lost husband she walks into the sea and drowns. The vixen sees her 
and tries to prevent it, but it is too late, and then realizing follows the unfor- 
tunate to a watery grave. 

APARTMENT NO. 13 (Dec. S). — Jack Downs goes on a motoring trip and 
locks up his apartment in the city, dropping his keys in the operation. A tramp 
comes on at this time, picks up the keys and takes possession of the apartment 
in the owner's absence. He adorns himself in Jack's clothes and then decides to 
rent the apartment. Nancy Butler meets Jack on the road and they become 
acquainted. On her arrival she seeks an apartment, and by one of those pe- 
culiar turns of fate answers the tramp's ad. She is shown the apartment and 
rents it, the tramp leaving happily after consummating a clever deal One 
night Jack returns and then complications arise. Nancy recognizes him and 
claims the apartment, but Jack convinces her it is his. She decides to leave, 
but he, pleading illness persuades her to remain. She in sympathy, telephones 
a D. D., mistaking him for a M. D. In the meantime, a maiden aunt calls and 
Jack in desperation, claims ber niece as his wife, and then at last the D. D. 
arrives in time to straighten out the tangle. 


" THE OPEN ROAD (Nov. 18). — Peggy Dodge and Billy Martin are in love 
with each other, and both are content with their lot until the breath of the 
city is wafted upon Billy Martin, in the form of his old friend, Fred Dunn, who 
visits him, in company with his stylish sister. The sister Jean takes a fancy 
to Billy, and asks him to come to the city, which he does, leaving his sweet- 
heart of the farm alone. Daily she goes about her tasks, but misses her sweet- 
heart more and more. Every morning he was accustomed to meet her at the 
big gate, which he opened for her as she drove her oxen to the fields. Every 
evening he would meet her and together they would drive home and share the 
evening meal. Billy soon tires of city life, however, and one day decides to 
give up the bustle of the city and return to his farm and his sweetheart. This 
he does, creeping up to his old bedroom one night, and exchanging his beauti- 
fully cut tailor-made clothes for the homespun of the farm. This done, he creeps 
down to the same gate at which he was wont to meet Peggy, and as she starts 
to open the gate all alone he leaps from his hiding place, faces her and asks 
her forgiveness. In a moment they are in each other's arms. 

VENGEANCE (Nov. 28). — James Ridley, a young man of good family, but 
who has wasted his inheritance in gambling, is caught in a great railroad acci- 
dent and reported dead. Shortly after he kills a man in a drunken fight and is 
sentenced to prison for a long term. He is imprisoned under a false name be- 
cause he deems it better for his young wife to believe him dead. She becomes 
acquainted with a rising young lawyer and marries him. He becomes famous 
in statecraft and is elected Governor of the state. 

She has a little daughter and is happy. Shortly before Thanksgiving the 
Governor-husband pardons some convicts, among them the former husband who 
dead to the world, had served a long term under an assumed name. Desperate 
and arrayed against the world, the ex-convict learns of his wife's marriage and 
decides to blackmail her. He goes to the house during her husband's absence 
and demands money and threatens to expose her. A young criminal bent upon 


burglary is secreted in the house. The wife leaves the room to obtain more- 
money for the convict husband and the burglar encounters him and kills him 
and escapes. The Governor-husband returns and asks for an explanation and 
his wife pointing to the body of the convict-husband, exclaims "that she has 
killed a burglar. 

THE GREATER LOVE (Dec. 2).— The' hunchback is an inspired violinist. 
His brother also plays. He is strong and handsome and is the leader among 
the hardy fishermen of the coast. He protects his weaker brother and they love 
each other. One * day the girl arrives at the fisher village. She is beautiful 
but the world is dark to her for she is blind. Her old father obtains work with 
the fisher folk and they find strong friends in the two brothers. The hunchback 
grows to love her and she revels in his music. To her blind eves all the world 
is beautiful. She does not realize that deformity exists and she tells the hunch- 
back that he must be as handsome and as wonder inspiring as his violin play- 
ing. This saddens him for he realizes his ugliness. The strong brother admires 
her beauty, but does not give her a second thought for to. him she is merely 
a poor blind girl. A great eye specialist comes to the village for his vacation 
and treats her eyes, but not with much hope. The hunchback prays that her 
eyesight will be restored although he realizes that if she can see his deformal- 
ity she will shrink from him as from evil. The operation is performed and is 
successful. With her first impulse she calls for him ; sees the strong brother 
with his violin and thinks it is he who was so kind to her. He at last realizes 
her beauty and loves her. They embrace. This is seen by the deformed who 
creeps away to the sounding sea. Playing his violin in a last sad requiem he 
wanders into the depths, unthought of, while the lovers are relating their hopes 
and experiences. Suddenly the strong brother sees the hunchback at the mercy 
of the waves and rushes to him and bears him to the shore. But it is too late. 
The storm swept soul has passed away. 

THRU SHADOWED VALES (Dec. 5).— Roy Erlynne, a young husband, 
is a sport. His wife, reared in puritanical surroundings disapproves of the 
society butterfly friends that flock to his elaborate dinners. She is essentially a 
home body. This displeases him and he draws comparisons with the ladies of 
their set. They are not strict teetotallers as his wife. Tbey are not averse 
to a game of bridge for rather high stakes. They do not object to their hus- 
bands having all night poker parties. In short he tells her that he is displeased 
with her narrow ideas. One night at a banquet given by him in her honor he 
after long persuasion insists that she drink a glass of wine. He is obeyed, but 
with such poor grace that he is further angered at her. That night he dreams 
that the first glass has made her a drunkard, that he has been discovered em- 
bezzling at his bank and hurries homefo r her to fly with him only to learn 
that she has eloped with his best friend. He disappears in the whirlpool of a 
great city. He is a tattered, bearded outcast begging for a drink. She is an 
even more pitiable object, and, is about to seek refuge in the river when he finds 
her and is appalled at the wreck he made her. Then he awakes and harries to 
her room and he tells her she was right and that he will never drink again. 

THE ELECTION BET (Dec. 7). — The oldest members, Messrs. Hopkins, 
Perkins and Simpson have the floor at the Club. Their warm arguments in favor 
of the Bull Moose candidate outvie the Wilson parade which is passing. They 
ridicule the idea of anyone but the hero of San Juan Hill winning the election. 
Mr. Hart, who is an ardent Wilson supporter, becomes annoyed at their con- 
versation and the following bet is arranged. Hart is to give each one thou- 
sand dollars if Roosevelt is elected and if Wilson is the fortunate candidate they 
are to dress as small children about the age of eight and play a succession of 
juvenile games in the open. This is rejected as a ridiculous proposition, for 
the three old men are bald headed and long bearded and being men of great 
means they feel that such an exhibition would be a blow to their dignity. How- 
ever, the arguments of the other club members and the certainty of Roosevelt's 
election, induce them to consent to the bet. Wilson is elected and the conditions 
of the wager are insisted upon, and one old gentleman is dressed as a little 
girl with a doll carriage, another is a Buster Brown and the third a venerable 
gentleman with a beard descending to his waist, is dressed as a Little Lord 
Fauntleroy with a toy drum. The school children descend upon them and they 
are arrested as madmen, but are rescued by the club members and borne to the 


STRONG ARM NELLIE (Nov. 18). — Nelie was athletic. She advocated 
boxing, fencing and riding as a tonic. But Dad could not see it. He espe- 
cially objected to her boxing, as the rattle of the punching bag disturbed his 
afternoon siesta. One night a couple of burglars visited the house. Nellie heard 
a noise in the dining-room, quietly crept downstairs, and with a left upper-cut to 


one and a straight arm blow to the other, she made the marauders take the 
count. Dad was forced to admit that there is something to an athletic training. 

THE LANDLUBBER (Nov. 18). — Polly, the fisherman's daughter, is in love 
with Ned, the village photographer, hut her father is bitterly opposed to land- 
lubbers. Ned has an inspiration. He calls on Polly's father and tells him he 
has decided to become a sailor. He is given an opportunity to prove his worth 
but he hardly fills the bill. The next day Polly induces her father to have his 
picture taken. The clever photographer arranges with a sailor to dress a? a 
woman and quietly seat himself beside father when the latter has been "posed." 
When the camera snaps, the accomplice slips away. How Ned threatens to show 
the picture to the fisherman's wife and brings about a consent to the marriage 
makes a laughable finale. 

THE TELLTALE MESSABE (Nov. 20). — Two sisters, hearing of robberies 
in the neighborhood, decide to take their valuables to the residence of Newman, 
a banker, for safe-keeping. The banker is very obliging and places the jewelry 
in his private safe. 

That same evening Newman gives his valet permission to visit his home 
overnight. While the servant is away, Newmaa plots with his lodgekeeper to 
rob the safe, it being his plan to give out the report that burglars have broken 
in. The valet, arriving home, finds his folks are away. He therefore returns 
to Newman's and quietly enters the house while the robber is at work. He 
grapples with the thief but the latter makes his escape, leaving behind one of 
his coat buttons. 

The next morning the sisters are advised of the robbery and being dissat- 
isfied with Newman's explanation, they employ a detective to make an investi- 
gation. The valet shows the button he has secured, which furnishes a clue as 
the detective notices that one of the lodgekeeper's coat buttons is missing, and 
the accomplice is arrested. Fearing the lodgekeeper will expose him, Newman 
writes a warning note and places it in an egg. When a basket of food is brought 
to the prisoner, the detective examines the egg, locates the message and brings 
the unscrupulous banker to justice. 

THE FLOWER GIRL'S ROMANCE (Nov. 22).— As Arthur Rodney passes 
Reva's flower stand he sees that she is being annoyed by two ruffians and quick- 
ly comes to her assistance, compelling the men to apologize. Reva is greatly 
impressed with Rodney's courtesy. The following morning while Reva in on 
her way from the ranch with her fresh stock of floWers, she comes upon Arthur 
and his, sweetheart, Bessie Berkow. Jealousy immediately takes possession of 
the girl "and she awakens to the fact that she is in love with Arthur. 

A week later the Berkows inspect the ranch at Verdugo, California, and 
order flowers for the wedding of their daughter. Reva is disturbed at the sight 
of Arthur and Bessie and, consumed with jealousy, is strongly tempted to push 
Bessie off of the precipice as they climb a nearby mountain to view the sur- 
rounding country but her better nature asserts itself and the two girls leave 
the rock together. 

Reva's brooding over her unrequited love for Arthur causes a mental de- 
rangement. In her deliriums, she runs to the home of the Berkows and bursts 
upon the bridal couple shortly after the clergyman has finished the ceremony. 
Reva's father, who has followed her from the flower ranch, explains to the as- 
sembled guests the unfortunate plight of his unhappy daughter. A reaction 
takes place and Reva in a moment of consciousness asks forgiveness. 

RED WING AND THE PALEFACE (Nov. 23).— Elmore, a hunter, acci- 
dentally kills Red Fox, loved by the chief's daughter, Red Wing. The Indian 
girl enlists the aid of her father to avenge the death of Red Fox. A raid is 
made against the white settlement and Elmore is taken back to the Indian 
village, a prisoner. Elmore's wife, Ann, follows to the camp and begs Red Wing 
to intercede with the chief for her husband's life. Red Wing, turning to the 
white woman, says, "He has killed my lover ; I will kill thine." 

Ann returns to the wreck of her" home, where she meets Elmore's father 

and a number of settlers who have gathered. Horrified at Ann's story, the 

father and his companions become furious and decide to secure Elmore at once 

by force. They mount their horses and ride to the Indian camp, where a fierce 

• fight takes place and Elmore, who has been tied to a stake by the Indians and 

is about to be tortured, is liberated. 

Red Wing, realizing that the Indians are no match for the hardy settlers 
and that she has been robbed of her revenge, escapes while the fight is in prog- 
ress. She visits the spot where Elmore killed her lover, Red Fox, and takes her 
own life that she may join him in the happy hunting grounds. 


A BATTLE OF WITS (Nov. 25). — Two surveyors, Tom Edwards and Frank 
Anderson, meet Sue Elwood while at work in the hills. Tug Weaver, a neigh- 
bor of Sue's who is anxious to win her hand, is jealous because of her friend- 
ship for Tom. Weaver inflames Sue's father against the surveyor and the old 
man will not permit Tom to visit the premises. 

Some time later Weaver is given mail for the Elwood cabin and noticing 
a letter addressed to Sue he opens it and reads : "Dear Sue, I was surveying 
for a railroad which will run through your land. Do not sell until you see me. 
Meet me at the old place Friday afternoon a*t three o'clock.' Weaver retains 
the letter and meets the promoter when he arrives, representing himself as El- 
wood's son-in-law and giving en option on the land for ten thousand dollars. 
When Tom arrives in the village and meets the promoter, he learns of the tran- 
saction and hastens to the cabii. 

Weaver overpowers Tom and with Elwood' s assistance places him in an 
outbuilding. Sue, who has been locked in her room because she will not con- 
sent to marrying Weaver, manages to escape and sees the two men imprisoning 
her lover. She liberates the voung surveyor and the two start for the village. 
There they meet the promoter and explain the situation. The treachery of 
Weaver is exposed and Tom and Sue become betrothed. 

THE WATER RIGHT WAR (Nov., 27). — Greuff and Steve, two ranchers, 
quarrel over the water rights of their ranches. Steve saves GreufE's daughter, 
Mabel, in a runaway and the young people become fast friends. Later he at- 
tempts to monopolize the water rights and has his men erect a wire fence. 
Greuff, being warned of Steve's operations, proceeds to the scene with a num- 
ber of farm hands and arrests the young man for trespassing. 

Greuff in his capacity of town marshal, locks Steve in the jail and hides the 
key under his pillow, fearing that Mabel will attempt to iberate her sweetheart. 
His precautions prove unavailing as Mabel secures the keys that night and frees 
the prisoner. In the morning Greaff finds that Steve has made his escape and he 
discovers a note, reading, "Steve says you can have your old stream ; he has 
taken me instead. Your loving daughter, Mabel." Steve and Mabel ride to the 
village justice of the peace and are happily married. When they return home, 
Greuff decides to forgive them, now that there is a combination of interests. 

THE CHAPERON GETS A DUCKING (Nov. 29).— Tom and his friends 
prepare to go camping. The girls say that if they can get a chaperon they will 
come out and visit the boys. This gives Tom an idea and Fat Bill is picked 
out as an ideal chaperon. He is equipped with women's togs and Tom gives 
him a note to deliver to one of the girls reading, "Dear Minnie : This will in- 
troduce my Aunt Lizzie, who will be glad to chaperon you to our camp." 

The next day Bill sets forth with his (air charges but he monopolizes~the 
attention of the girls to such an extent that the boys become angry and decide 
to give him a ducking. During the scramble in the water Bill's wig comes off 
and the scheme is expossd. The girls seeing they have been duped, rush at Tom 
and force him into the water with the unhappy chaperon. 

THE MAYOR FROM IRELAND (Nov. 30).— At the Kerry dance along the 
roadside, Bridget flaunts Shamus Foley and accepts the proposal of Terry Dono- 
van. Shamus becomes embittered and leaves for America where he meets with 

Terry and Bridget are married and when they read of Shamus' good fortune 
in America they decide to visit the new world. By selling their belongings they 
secure steerage passage and arriving in New York ,they locate in an East Side 

Terry finds that it is no easy matter to secure employment and he therefore 
determines to seek aid of his old rival, Shamus, who is now a political boss and 
an influential character. But Shamus scoffs at the unfortunate Terry and holds 
him up to ridicule. 

Downhearted, Terry sits on a park bench and the way opens for him to 
render a service to a passing capitalist. As a result his new friend secures em- 
ployment for Terry and in later months the young man becomes a prosperous 

By untiring labor and judicious investments Terry becomes well-to-do and 
is nominated on the reform ticket for mayor. At this time Shamus is the pre- 
sent incumbent and comes out for reelection. The campaigns of the two fac- 
tions present an interesting study of modern politics, Terry presenting his pro- 
gressive measures so impressively that he is elected. 

The time comes for Shamus to retire from office in favor of Terry. A crowd 
of Terry's friends are on hand to see him assume his seat. Bridget, Terry's 


faithful wife, is present and asks Shamus if he will continue to harbor unkind 
feelings toward them. A spark of his old love is kindled and the ex-mayor 
coming to a realization of Terry's sterling qualities, extends bis hand in con- 

THE FARM BULLY (Dec. 2).— Clark Russell, a prominent writer, concludes 
that he will visit the south in the capacity of a farm hand and thus secure 
atmosphere for a new story. He learns that laborers are needed on a certain 
farm and as he journeys into the country he rescues a young woman whose 
horse is running away. 

When Clark applies for work he is treated lightly by Bud, the foreman, un- 
til the owner of the farm arrives with his daughter, Anna, who recognizes her 
hero of the afternoon. A few days later at the dinner table Clark defends Pol- 
ly, a maid, when she is annoyed by Bud and after the hands have departed for 
the fields the two men settle thteir score in a fight, the bully receiving -a se- 
vere lesson. 

Polly overhears Bud declaring that he will be revenged but she is unable 
to warn Clark. Later in the day the bully tries to force Clark into the hopper 
of the threshing machine but Anna sees the struggle from a distance and stops 
the engine. Polly informs Anna's father of Bud's treachery and the bully is 

Clark and Anna find that they are -very much in love and all goes smooth- 
ly until the author receives a suspicious photograph. He returns to his home 
but memories of the southern girl cause bim to again visit the farm where ex- 
planations are made. 

A DAUGHTER'S SACRIFICE (Dec. 4). — Old Tom Wells is a victim of 
drink and is unable to pay the rent when Steve, the young landlord, appears on 
the scene. Steve's stormy interview is broken by the appearance of Alice, 
Tom's daughter, whom the landlord has made many unsuccessful efforts to court. 
Alice, who has given her promise to Martin, an industrious young farmer, en- 
treats with her father to overcome his weakness. 

Wells, knowing he will be dispossessed, becomes desperate and starts for 
the village to secure money. He is tempted to steal Steve's horse, but is dis- 
covered by the landlord, who declares that he will have the old man imprisoned 
if he does not force Alice to consent to the marriage. 

The unhappy father therefore refuses to permit Martin to visit Alice to 
whom he explains that he is in tbe power of the landlord. Alice sacrifices her 
happiness and marries Steve. 

Wells makes his home with the young couple but finds that he is in the 
way. Steve is harsh and oftentimes cruel and the old man is finally obliged 
to leave the farm. 

Meanwhile, Martin, heartbroken, leaves for the village as he is unable to 
bear the sight of the old places where he has known so much happiness. Wells, 
in his .journey, falls by the wayside and dispatches a note to Martin, beseeching 
him to look after the unhappy daughter. 

Steve meets a young woman with whom he determines to elope and he re- 
turns home to secure his money. He discovers Alice weeping over an old pho- 
tograph of Martin and he attacks her. Martin, fulfilling his trust, arrives on 
the scene and is confronted with Steve's revolver. In the struggle the pistol 
is accidentally discharged and the unfaithful husband is killed. 

As the days pass, Alice forgets her unhappiness in the true love of Martin. 

A CALIFORNIA SNIPE HUNT (Dec. 6). — Hattie, the village belle, has 
many admirers to whom she offers little encouragement. Rube, a country boy, 
arrives in town and secures a position in the grocery store, where his gallantry 
and salesmanship win Hattie's heart.. 

Consumed with jealousy the boys determine to humble Rube. They invite 
the gullible youth to accompany them on a snipe hunt. When they reach a lone- 
ly spot Rube is given a sack to hold and is informed by the boys that they will 
go out arid drive in the snipes. The boys, however, go home and Rube waits all 
night in vain. 

Next morning Hattie decides to invite Rube to a "picnic for two" and she 
prepares a fine lunch. As she approaches the village she discovers the plight 
of the grocery clerk. Hattie explains to Rube that he has been made the vic- 
tim of a deep laid plot and they proceed to enjoy the lunch. When the boy? re- 
turn to have the laugh on Rube they find to their amazement that they have 
merely promoted his love affair. 


SOMETHING WRONG WITH BESSIE (Dec. 6).— Bessie is extremely lazy. 
Uncle Josh pays her a visit and his eccentricities are interpreted as the signs 
of an unsound mind. The old farmer, in turn, cannot account for Bessie's strange 
actions. Bessie's husband arrives at an opportune moment and restores tran- 

DRIVER OF THE DEADWOOD COACH (Dec. 7). — John Nelson, driver of 
the Deadwood Coach, is anxious to send his crippled child, Myrtle, east for 
treatment hut he is unable to raise the necessary funds. One morning the stage 
carries a valuable consignment of gold bullion and Bad Bill, a desperado, learn- 
ing of the shipment, determines to secure it. He prepares a large box with a 
double hinge, takes it to the stage house and gives instructions for its ship- 
ment. Unobserved, he secretes himself in the box, which is placed on top of 
the coach. 

Nelson's little son, Harry, is presented with a camera and decides to take 
a picture of his father's coach as it approaches the village. When the stage 
arrives it is discovered that the gold is missing and Nelson, held responsible, is 
placed in jail. Harry develops the plate, which reveals Bill creeping from 
the box to secure the gold. Tbe boy hastens to the sheriff, to whom he sbows 
the negative. In the meantime Bill has had no opportunity to escape rfom 
the box which is taken into the warehouse and covered with heavy crates. When 
the desperado is finally extricated by the officers it is found that he has been 
suffocated. The gold is recovered and Nelson is liberated. The Eldorado Min- 
ing Company pays Harry a handsome reward, with which he is able to send 
his sister to the eastern specialists. 

A RACE WITH TIME (Dec. 9).— President Manson of the O. R. & N. R. 
R. is advised by the Asting Postmaster General that a test for the mail con- 
tract will be held December 17th and that a pouch must be delivered at Stev- 
enson at two o'clock or the contract will be forfeited in favor of the Union 
Central R. R. The next day at the office of the superintendent of the Union 
Central word is received that the O. & likely to secure the contract, and 
Thomas, the vice-president, wires to the superintendent of the Union Central 
that he must stop at nothing to thwart the competitor. The superintendent of 
the Central calls in one of his tough section hands, who schemes to disable the 
engine on which the trial mail pouch is to be carried. The station agent's 
daughter discovers the p!ot and taking the mail pouch from the wrecked en- 
gine, runs to a nearby locomotive and sets forth to complete the .iournev. A 
wild ride takes place but just as the clock is striking two, the plucky substi- 
tute arrives at Stevenson and delivers the mail. 

TOLL GATE RAIDERS (Dec. 11). — Stark, a man of the Kentucky hills, 
believes it is unjust that he should be obliged to pay toll while Judge Randolph, 
the owner of the road, rides free. He therefore succeeds in arousing the peo- 
ple of his community to such an extent that the Judge is petitioned to sell his 
road. Randolph, however, refuses to consider the proposition. 

A band of toll gate raiders in organized by Stark and a notice is placed 
on the toll house, warning the Judge that unless he sells, the house will be 
burned down. 

Millie Brant, the daughter of the toll gate keeper, is taken ill and Char- 
lotte, the Judge's daughter, comes to spend tbe night with her, as Brant has 
been called to town. That night the raiders set fire to the house and the two 
girls are rescued by Charlotte's sweetheart, James Staunton. The Judge, real- 
izing that the community is against him, agrees to sell the road to the county. 

THE MUMMY AND THE COWPUNCHERS (Dec. 13).— Rant and his 
daughter, Julia, two stranded thespians, pick up an old newspaper and read of 
a wonderful mummy, discovered by a European scientist in Egypt, which has 
retained its remarkable beauty for centuries. This gives Rant an idea. Julia 
is to represent the mummy and Rant, as the professor, will deliver a lecture. 
They secure the co-operation of a medicine faker, who has found business dull, 
and his tent is used as an auditorium. 

The scheme works splendidly until one of the boys falls in love with the 
mummv and the constable concludes that the professor is disturbing the peace. 
Dr. Quack, the faker, runs off with receipts and only the timely interference 
of the cowpunchers prevents Rant and his daughter from being arrested. 

IRELAND THE OPPRESSED (Dec. 14). — During a rest at the harvest 
dance, Marty is requested to tell of the days when he was young. The good- 
natured Irishman consents and tells the following story : "In those days we 
got our larnin' frum th' hedge school and whin I grew up, toimes bein' worse ; 
like many another spalpeen I tuk to courtin'. Just about thin Lord Kilhan- 


nack, the divil take 'ini, took to evictin' his penniless tenants by the way of a 
little divarsion. Con Hanley inad3 a gallant run wid the news to Father Fal- 
Tey. His Riv'rince, attimtin' to protict the Morans, was put under arresht for 
his trouble. Bein' a knowin' lad an' a mimber of the White Boys, I blew the 
horn as a signal to call the boys together, an' there in the glen we took on the 
rescue av th' holy man. T'way a grand place for the wurk, but it cost us dear. 
"Wid' the Red Coats scourin' th' countryside, His Riv'rince lived for weeks on the 
food secretly passed him, in the cave where he was hidden. Rewards were 
posted ivrywhere. A dhirty agent named Michael Dee discovered the hiding 
place of His Riv'rince an' sold him to th' crown, but Peggy overheard a drunk- 
en soldier's boast, and very toimly too, brought the news, an' disguised, the 
good priest shipped to sea. He kissed the shore of his native isle and sailed 
him away to Ameriky An' tho Frough dear served sivin long years, she's here 
lierself to tell it." 


THE ALTAR OF DEATH (2 reels) (Nov. 15). — Lieutenant Hart comes to 
the rescue of Bright Star, who is being driven away by a sentry, and he gives 
her permission to enter the fort to sell her beadwork. The beauty of the girl 
attracts him and he meets her secretly in the forest. He gets her a spelling 
book, and the enamored Indian girl studies sincerely to meet the favor of the 
handsome soldier who has captured her heart. The romance is interrupted 
by the arrival from the East of Miss Harvey, a niece of the Colonel's wife, and 
Lieutenant Hart dances attendance upon her. The Indians are invited to the 
fort by the Colonel, and Bright Star accompanies them. As they are walking 
through the grounds the girl's face lights up with pleasure as she sees the 
Lieutenant with Miss Harvey on his arm, and the innocent child of the forest 
runs up to him and throws her arms about his neck. Hart roughly disengages 
himself and curtly bids her be gone, laughingly endeavoring to explain to Miss 
Harvey that he is not at fault for the conduct of Bright Star. With a realiza- 
tion of the hopelessness of her love, Bright Star's heart is filled with despair 
and rage, and she takes the spelling book from her bosom and rends it to pieces. 

Time lapses. Lieutenant Hart's hopes of winning Miss Harvey are shat- 
tered by the receipt of an invitation to her wedding to another. The Indians 
show signs of an outbreak, and Lieutenant Hart is ordered to take a supply of 
powder to a neighboring fort. The Indians manuever to catch the soldiers at 
a disadvantage, and as the soldiers ride through a canyon their progress is 
checked by a murderous fire which is poured into their ranks by the Indians, 
concealed and sheltered by the huge rocks. Hastily dismounting, the boys in 
blue overturn their wagons and, using them for breastworks, fight for their 

At the top of the canyon the Indian girl watches the raging battle, and 
her joy is unbounded as she sees the soldiers drop, one by one, until but a 
mere handful of men support Lieutenant Hart in the unequal conflict. The 
tremendous bravery of the man finally touches her heart, and she is suddenly 
overcome by a revulsion of feeling which brings back her overwhelming love. 
Seeing that there is no hope for Hart, she determines to save him, and, "slid- 
ing down the precipitous mountain side, she reaches the Lieutenant's side and 
quickly offers to show him a hidden passage through a cave. Carrying several 
large cans of powder, the men follow Bright Star up the steep cliff, and they 
reach the cave, but the Indians are so closely in pursuit that Hart quickly re- 
solves to blow up the cave, which will obstruct the path of the Indians. The 
cans are set down, and a train of powder run to them. When a match is ap- 
plied the little tongues of flame dart quickly toward the cans and a terrific ex- 
plosion rends the mountain side. The charge had been too heavy, and the sol- 
diers too close, and every man is slain. The Indians are seen being hurled 
through the air and sliding down the mountain side. Though in the throes of 
death, Bright Star drags herself to the body of the dead Lieutenant and dies 
with her arms about him. 

FOR THE CAUSE (2 reels) (Dec. 6).— At the breaking out of the Civil 
War Lieut. Harmon and Lieut. Black are ready to go to the front. Harmon's 
attentions to Black's fiancee, Helen, lead to words between the two and Har- 
mon challenges Black to a duel. The men meet with pistols and Harmon gets 
the first shot and misses. Black refuses to fire at his antagonist, and turning 
away is again shot at by Harmon. He whirls around and shoots at Harmon 
as he has turned and is running away, wounding him through the shoulder. 
When the people, aroused by the shots, reach the scene, Harmon insists that 
he was shot in the back in a cowardly manner by Black, and his statement 


causes an estrangement between Helen and Black. Wonderful scenes of battle 
are then shown, in which Black wins fame for heroism, and is entrusted with 
important missions. Harmon never recovers from the wound and is practically 
a helpless invalid. A plan is formed by the Confederates to lead the TTnion 
army into an ambush by having a spy captured with false papers, and Black 
risks his life in the mission. Acting upon the information contained in the 
fake despatches, the Union army thinks it wll surprise the Confederates and 
falls into the trap set for it. Black is sentenced to be shot as a spy, and 
makes a sensational escape, taking refuge in Harmon's home. For the sake 
of the Confederate cause, Harmon puts on Black's hat and coat, while the lat- 
ter hides on the roof, and is captured, leaving a note for Helen, however, tell- 
ing the true story of the duel, which Black rinds when he comes from his hid- 
ing place. Harmon is placed in the crowded prison, and when the firing squad 
comes to execute him in the morning, they find he has passed awaj\ Black 
rejoins his men and takes part in the big battle, and after the war, regains 
Helen's love by giving her Harmon's confession. 


PAT'S DAY OFF (Dec. 2). — Pat comes home with a jag on and only part 
of his pay in his pocket. A stormy argument ensues, in which the neighbors 
and the policeman on the beat are brought in, but Bridget scatters the inquisi- 
tive ones with a pan of dish water. Pat wanders off and stumbles over an 
open man-hole in the street, and decides to be revenged, so he scrawls a note 
to Bridget that he has committed suicide by drowning himself in the man- 
hole, which is delivered to his wife by a boy. Bridget is overcome and becomes 
hysterical. The town constables on bicycles are called out, the police hurry to 
the scene, and the fire department lends its aid. A great crowd gathers about 
the man-hole and heroic policemen, with ropes tied about their waists, plunge 
into the dark depths in search of Pat. In the meantime Pat has been having 
the time of his life "rushing the growler," and his attention is attracted by 
the mob about the man-hole. Unsteadily he makes his way into their midst, 
and the angry firemen and police lay violent hands on him but are driven off 
by the valiant Bridget, who leads her spouse home. 

BROWN'S SEANCE (Dec. 2). — Brown and his friends take an afternoon 
off, spending their time with some pretty chorus girls. Their wives persuade 
them to go to a spiritualist meeting and* the Medium makes the startling an- 
nouncement that a man present is not true to his wife. The women demand 
the name of the man, and she refuses to answer questions in the meeting but 
promises to do so at a private seance next morning. At the appointed hour the 
wives arrive, and Brown and his friends try to hush up the Medium, but she 
makes them pay dearly for her statement to their wives that their husbands are 
true to them. 

A FAMILY MIXUP (Dec. 9). — Brown and Smith are friends, but their 
wives have never met. Brown flirts with Mrs. Smith, and in revenge, Mrs. 
Brown flirts with Mr. Smith. Many amusing scenes are shown, coming to a 
climax when both couples go to a summer garden. The two men meet and tell 
each other what fine girls each are out with. Finally the four are brought 
together and the wives soothe the angry husbands and convince them that it 
does not pay to flirt. 

A MIDNIGHT ELOPEMENT (Dec. 9). — Jim Smith and Sallie Rice are 
very much in love with each other, but her father vehemently shows his dis- 
approval of Jim. An elopement is planned, and at midnight Jim has the coun- 
try magistrate waiting for him at the cross roads. He goes to tap on Sal lie's 
window, but makes a mistake and awakens old man Rice, who, clad in his pa- 
jamas, pursues him with a shot-gun and as Jim joins the magistrate, takes a 
pot shot at them, which finds lodgment in the judge's back. When Rice finds 
out what he has done, he is in fear of the law, but Jim pays the judge to set- 
tle the matter on condition that Rice gives his consent to his daughter's mar- 


THE GOOD FOR NOTHING (Nov. 18). — Having failed at literature in 
the city, Dick Evans returns home to take up farm work again. His father 
sneers at his wasted career, and his mother, Rosabel, and the minister are his 
only comforters. Rosabel is his sweetheart, and postmaster Jordan's daughter. 


Her father hears of Dick's return, and when Dick goes to see Rosabel he Is 
shown the door. Dick later passes the office of the "Citizen," a newspaper. The 
plant is for sale cheap. Rev. John Brower lends Dick the money to buy the 
plant. To the surprise of his father and the postmaster, Dick becomes an edi- 
tor. Dick "gets back" at bis father and the postmaster. The latter wants 
another term, and Dick suggests in an editorial that what the town needs Is 
another postmaster. Dick's fatber runs for Mayor. Dick decides to run against 
him. Dick has paid back his debt to the minister, and is ready to marry Rosa- 
bel. He makes his election sure by getting the trolley people to run an elec- 
tric line into the town, instead of passing through a rival village. Then Dick 
goes to the minister with an advance copy of the "Citizen," and discloses his 
climax. Brower reads the editorial and approves witb delight. Rosabel's father 
reads it and grabbing his hat. drags Rosabel to the Evans farmhouse. Dick's 
father is despondent because Dick is going to "beat him out" at the election, 
but Jordan shows him the paper and his gloom is turned to joy. Dick has re 
signed from the mayoralty campaign in favor of his father, and also has turned 
in favor of the present postmaster. And it is all over but the wedding cere 

A FUGITIVE FROM JUSTICE (Nov. 19) .—George Rand and his wife are 
living in a cabin situated near his claim on the mountain side. One day Jim 
Slater, a bandit, is located by the Sberiff. The Sheriff fires, wounding Slater 
in the arm. He runs until he comes to the cabin of the Rands. He tells them 
a fictitious tale of injustice, and tbey decide to protect him. When the Sheriff 
calls Rand informs him that he has seen no one pass that answers the descrip- 
tion. That night Slater steals Rand's gun and hat and sneaks out. A month 
passes and Slater is almost forgotten by the little family, but one morning, 
Mrs. Rand, when counting up her little savings, sees a face at the window. It 
is Slater, but the rough beard covering his face prevents her from recognizing 
him. Rushing to the window he breaks the glass, puts his revolver through 
and commands Mrs. Rand to open the door. She does and h^ enters the cabin. 
Rand had forgotten his water bottle that morning and returns to his cabin for 
it. Upon his arrival he finds his wife holding the outlaw at bay with the gun 
she managed to get from his holster. The young wife goes for the Sheriff, and 
Slater is soon in the hands of tbepo sse. Later the Sheriff brings them their 
well-earned reward. 

LOVE AND TREACHERY (Nov. 21).— In a fishing village dwells Marie, a 
fisher maiden, who is loved by Jean and Jacques. Jacques meeting Marie one 
day proposes marriage to her, but is refused. Happening to pass Jean's cabin, 
Jacques sees Marie in Jean's arms. Jacques meets the coast guard, who tells 
him that smugglers are about. This puts an idea in Jacques' mind, and he 
with his pal, Francois, starts to put it into execution. They go to Jean's cabin 
and take Jean's hat and coat. Then he and Francois go where they have a boat 
moored and Jacques puts on the stolen clothes. A coast guard sees the launch- 
ing of the boat, and recognizing Jean's coat and hat, becomes suspicious of 
Jean. Jacques and Francois proceed to their cave, as they are smugglers. Ar- 
riving at the cave they get a bundle of lace which has been smuggled and re- 
turning to Jean's cabin they cut off several yards and place it in the pocket of 
Jean's coat. They leave the cabin and are returning to the cave when they 
meet the captain of the coast guards. They inform him that Jean is a smug- 
gler. The captain accuses Jean of smuggling. He is placed under arrest. Fran- 
cois and Jacques gloating over their success, return to the cave and are mak- 
ing a division of their spoils when a quarrel ensues and Jacques insults Fran- 
cois. Francois leaves the cave. He runs to Jean's cabin and tells Marie how 
the affair was accomplished, and they start after the captain and the guard. 
Overtaking them, Francois tells the captain. The whole party then proceed to 
the cave where Jacques is. After surrounding the cave with guards, the cap- 
tain, Marie and Jean go inside. Jacques is accused and denies, but when Fran- 
cois appears and confronts him with the balance of the lace he is arrested. 

THE DRUMMER (Nov. 22). — Anthony Brown starts on an extended trip. 
He meets in the next town a lady who is an old acquaintance and who invites 
him on a shopping trip. She makes a number of purchases and discovering she 
has more than she can carry, he decides to put some of them in his suitcase. 
They go but a short distance when she suddenly remembers an engagement, 
and after apologizing, hustles away, forgetting the bundles in the suitcase. Aft- 
er reaching his hotel Brown finding he has little use for his suitcase decides 
to ship it home, forgetting about the bundles. When later he calls at the ten- 
nis courts the voung lady reminds him of the bundles. He is in a frenzy of 
horror at the idea of his wife finding the lady's bundles and rushes away to 
intercept the suitcase, but finds it is already on its way. He follows and on 


reaching home he is greatly surprised to have wifie and mamma greet him so 
lovingly, they thinking the articles are intended for wife's birthday. 

TAMING THEIR PARENTS (Nov. 22). — Mr. Abbot and his son Billy are 
both in the habit of visiting Mrs. Pierce and her daughter, Dorothy. One even- 
ing Mrs. Pierce sees Mr. Abbot rudely push her pet kitten from the chair that 
he may sit down. She later serves tea, when he insists on two lumps of sugar 
instead of one. She loses her temper and an argument ensues, culminating in 
the young people being torn from each others arms and the elders parting in 
anger. Billy and Dorothy confide their troubles to their friends, who conspire 
to adjust matters. They kidnap the elders, blindfold them, and turn them loose 
in a darkened room. When the light is turned on they indulge in mutual re- 
crimination until they are persuaded by the young people to make up. Billy 
and Dorothy elope, and at the finish of the ceremony Mr. Abbot and Mrs. 
Pierce are brought in. They forgive and are married and all four depart on 
their honeymoon. 

THE SILENT SIGNAL (Nov. 23). — Major Carews, in command of a squad- 
ron of cavalry near El Paso on the Mexican border, receives a visit from his 
daughter, Lucile. The Major greets her and she meets his adjutant, Lieutenant 
Gilmore. They become very friendly, so much so that when she amusedly re- 
ceives the attentions of one Jose Montero, of the Mexican Juta, Gilmore re- 
sents it. She laughs at him. Later, Jose, becoming too strenuous in his im- 
portunities, Lucile makes him ridiculous by shoving a kitten in his face as he 
is about to kiss her. Enraged, he stalks away and meets the half-breed. Buck, 
on the trail near the camp. More or less beside himself with humiliation, he 
vents his rage on the half-breed attempting to take his horse away from him. 
Lucile sees the encounter and rushes to the rescue of Buck. Jose then turns 
his attentions to the girl, attempting to kiss her and would succeed bu for the 
timely arrival of Gilmore, who -knocks him down. Vowing vengeance Jose 
crosses the border and enlisting the services of some Mexican outlaws returns 
and succeeds in capturing Gilmore together with the half-breed, Buck, who un- 
wittingly stumbled on the outlaw band. Buck is forced to cook for the out- 
laws. While doing so he manages to send up a series of smoke signals and 
thus smokegraphs their plight to the U. S. camp. Lucile, to whom Buck has 
taught the smoke code, sees and reads the message. She iuforms her father, 
who orders a troop of U. S. cavalry to the rescue. The rescue is made after 
a spectacular chase and fight through the mountains and Lucile is once more 
happy in the arms of her lover. 

THE STOLEN SYMPHONY (Two reels) (Nov. 25). — A beautiful story of 
a poor young musician who has composed an exquisite symphony. 

A famous musician obtains the score of the symphony and adds new laurels 
to his already great triumphs. Upon denouncing the great artist as a thief, the 
young composer is sent to an asylum ; later he obtains his release and appears 
in a concert where the famous artist is playing the now world's great sym- 
phony, demonstrates it is the genius of his brain and is proclaimed to the world. 
— Lawrence McCloskey, Author. 

THE SURGEON (Nov. 215). — Dr. Albert Hartley was a very busy young 
surgeon in one of the hospitals in New York City. Frequently he felt that he 
needed an energizer, so he resorted to that enemy of mankind, whiskey and he 
became a veritable drunkard. The hospital officers requested his resignation. 
He diagnosed his case. He must get away from everything familiar to him. 
There was one place to go — the west. For a month he drifted about like a 
derelict, until one day he found himself in California, with wealth consisting 
of seventy -five cents and some surgical instruments. Passing John Lane's ranch 
house near the road, he saw a sign "Ranch hands wanted." He applied for a 
position and went to work. Hartley's good work comes to Lane's notice and 
he was made foreman. Jose Cabbrillo, a range rider, was discharged by Lane 
for crueltv to his horse. For revenge the Mexican shot Lane from ambush. 
The bullet shattered his skull. Hartley saw the shot fired and sent men out 
to capture the Mexican, while he attended the wounded man. A physician was 
sent for, but told them the only way Lane' life could be saved would be to probe 
for the bullet and trepan the skull and that he was not a surgeon. Hartley 
heard this and to the surprise of the Country doctor, he volunteered to make 
the operation. His instruments were the only proof of his ability. These the 
doctor accepted and both went vigorously to work, to save the life of the 
wounded man. Meanwhile the chase after the Mexican began and ended with 
his capture. Enola, Lane's daughter and her mother waited anxiously for the 
result of the operation, which was successfully performed. Hartley was made a 
hero and captured the heart of the girl he had secretly loved. 


house so dear to Billy and his mother is lost to them through foreclosure. He 
cheers her by telling her to come with him to the city, where he will provide 
for her. Their straitened circumstances force them to take quarters in a tene- 
ment section inhabited by gangsters. During one of Billy's trips from home 
in search of employment, the mother hears sounds of someone falling and rush- 
ing into the dingy hallway arrives just in time to see two gangsters beating up 
another, Red Maguire. With the assistance of a young girl of the tenements, 
the mother helps the injured man to her own apartments, where she bandages 
his wounds. The heart of the gangster is touched by the mother's kindness to 
him and he vows never to forget her. Returning home one evening Billy falls 
in with the gangsters and goes to the docks, where drinking and gambling 
are indulged in. Billy is led to drink and before long is helpless. Anxiety 
of the mother over Billy's absence causes "Red'" Maguire to go in search of 
him andh e arrives just as Billy is being led away by a policeman to jail where 
he is later sentenced to thirty days imprisonment. Not forgetting her kindness 
to him and wanting to spare the mother knowledge of Billy's arrest "Red" Ma- 
guire sends her a message in Billy's name. "Got a job fer 4 weeks. Had to go 
darn quick.' When Billy is released "Red" puts money in his band saying "Bill 
your mother is a good kid. She thinks you've been working. -Here's your wages 
for the time you've been away. Cut out the booze and get to work." Two 
years find Billy and little mother back on the farm for Billy went to work and 
earned the old home back again. 

SATIN AN DGINGHAM (Nov. 28). — May Prescott, daughter of wealthy 
parents, is somewhat of a coquette. Her brother invites a clergyman friend. 
The sister is much impressed with him. The favored suitor of the girl is a 
man of wealth but she does not love him, thinking only of his social standing. 
The clergyman is going to open their cottage for the return of his mother. He 
gets a woman to clean the place. He then asks May if she will go with him 
and see if the house is in order. She consents. When they reach the little 
home, they are both thirsty, and begin to prepare a little tea party. Fearing 
that she will get her white dress spoiled, Tom takes from a closet a long ging- 
ham apron and tells her to put it on which she does reluctantly. After the tea 
she goes with him in her machine to meet his mother. They leave May at her 
home, and her chauffeur drives the mother and son to their cottage. Later her 
engagement to the middle aged man is announced. Suddenly she rises from the 
supper table, pleads a headache, and leaves the room. In her room, she takes 
off the engagement ring and writes a note saying that she cannot marry a man 
she does not love. At the home of the young man, his mother tells him to go 
and light the fire for tea, he does so and returns. May steals into the house, 
into the kitchen, sees the tea boiling, goes to the closet for the apron and puts 
it on. She takes the tray, and it a very demure little person who serves the 
tea to the mother and son. Later the mother leaves the room, the girl standing 
before the fire. The young man remembers her dislike for the apron, goes to 
her and tries to unfasten it, but she shakes her head and tells him that she 
wants to wear it all the time. She half turns and he takes her in his arms. 

THE STROKE OAR (Nov. 29). — Bud Hagen, sophomore, is the captain of 
the Varsity eight. The crew is returning to the club house after a practice 
spin and several of the town girls are waiting for them, among them Dorothy 
Butler, who is "very sweet" on Bud. The crew and girls leave the club after 
the boys are dressed, and Dorothy and Bud meet tbe Dean. After taking the 
girls home, Bud and his roommate, Billie Corson and Jack Thompson, are walk- 
ing across the campus when they see some freshman numerals "1915" painted 
high on the chapel tower. They are perturbed and after reaching Bud's room 
they concoct a scheme to paint the sophomore numerals "1914" on the chapel 
bell and steal the clapper. Bud is shown climbing the tower. The Dean 
catches Bud, the other boys getting away. He takes the clapper and the fresh- 
man's pennant from Bud and orders him to appear at his office in the morning. 
Bud goes to the Dean's office and is told that as a punishment he will not be 
permitted to row in the race. He goes back to the boys and tells them| At the 
suggestion of "Dick Larkin," their roommate, they go to the "coach" and tell 
him. He calls on the Dean and attempts to have his order revoked but with 
no success. Bud calls on Dorothy. She encourages him by saying that she 
will call on the Dean. This she does and while the Dean would like to please 
his little favorite he will not give in. That night in Bud's room he and his 
roommates decide upon a plan to have Dorothy take the Dean off for a stroll. 
Telephoning their plan to Dorothy the boys get in hiding, and as the Dean and 
Dorothy come near they kidnap him and carry him to an old log cabin. Aft- 
er the crew has embarked from the club house, the Dean climbs out of the 
chimney. He dashes away and while the race is in progress rushes into the 


scene, snatches a pair of field glasses and discovers Bud is rowing. In view of 
the fact that his college is winning he loses his dignity by jumping around 
like a school hoy. 

RANCH-MATES (Nov. 30).— Ed Manly and Burt Atkinson are pals, Ed 
is the foreman of the ranch and shares his quarters with Burt, who has a 
sister, whom he has kept in school for years. One day he came in contact 
with a cattle rustling band and was persuaded to join them. He saw what 
he believed to be a fortune in a few months. It would mean so much to his 
little sister — complete education, better clothes. He paid nightly visits to the 
rustlers' camp and each time returned unseen. Finally the Sheriff caught two 
of the band, Burt escaped but one of the captured men confessed. Burt was im- 
plicated and an order for his arrest issued. That dav he received a letter from 
his sister saying -she was coming to visit him, but 'when the sheriff told him 
that he was "wanted" he knew it was all over for him. His sister would lose 
her love for him when she learned of it. He told the sheriff ,this and exacted 
a promise from him not to tell her. Then there was but one thing left for 
him to do and he did it. When the smoke cleared away Burt was cold in death. 
The sheriff and posse stood in awe and reverence over his lifeless body, as Ed, 
his pal, rushed on the scene. Next day Burt's sister arrived and Ed escorted 
her to his quarters. Replies to her questions regarding her brother were evaded, 
but finally she learned of his death. She was broken hearted. Ed told her how 
bravely he died. He had stood up against the cattle rustlers' hot fire only to 
fall mortally wounded. Ed offered her his love to make her bappy and as she 
needed a friend he was the one. 

BY THE SEA (Dec. 2). — Harry Harvey, a fisber lad, is in love with Marie 
Forrest, a shepherdess. One night he proposes and is accepted. Several days 
before the wedding, Marie and her girl friends are busily at work on the in- 
tended bride's simple trousseau. Marie suddenly falls ill. Harry returning from 
a fishing trip, rushes to Marie's home. He looks through the window of her 
room and sees her dying form on the bed. He rushes to her side iust in time 
to witness her pathetic death. At his request, she is buried on the rocky shore 
where she had promised to wed him. After a few weeks, heartbroken and mis- 
erable, he falls - across her grave. As he lies prostrate over the rocky mound, 
clinging to her tombstone, the tide creeps over his body and he dies. The heart- 
broken motber buries him alongside of Marie. 

STRUGGLE OF HEARTS (Dec. 3).— John Carnes escaped from prison 
after serving several years. His wife died while he was in prison. Chance 
brought him to Rodney Ford, a minister, who helped him. Carnes obtained 
work on a farm. Ethel Rand, a niece of his employer, paid a visit to the farm. 
Ethel and Carnes fell in love. His conscience troubled him ; be did not know 
which was the right thing to do — tell her of his past life or keep silent. Then 
he thought of his benefactor, Ford. He hastened to him for advice. Ford told 
him to tell. Not until he had seen the photograph of the young lady did the 
minister realize that it was his fiancee whom Carnes loved, but he remained 
silent. Ford decided to visit her and learn the truth. His suspense was short- 
lived, for her actions plainly told him he must renounce her. Accidentally 
Carnes happens to witness the meeting of his benefactor and Ethel and believing 
himself an imposter he leaves a message for her and goes away. He had not 
proceeded far when Ford overtook him, but a struggle between love and honor 
takes place, before the sacrificing minister succeeded in convincing Carnes that 
the only hope of making him and the girl he loved happy was for him to re- 
turn to her. Carnes returned to the girl, who waited for him with outstretched 

TWIXT LOVE AND AMBITION (Dec. 5). — Marie Wayne sings one evening 
in a concert and attracts the attention of a manager, who offers her a posi- 
tion on the stage. Her lover, John Sterne, pleads with her to decline and urges 
her to marry. Love and ambition struggle desperately. Ambition conquers, and 
the two take separate paths. Finally the widowed sister of John Sterne dies, 
leaving her little boy, a child of four or five. For the sake of the boy's health, 
John buys a little home in the country. Entrusting him to the care of an old 
Irish woman whom he believes to be reliable, he goes to the city every morning 
to business, returning in the evening. Meanwhile Marie has scored a triumph 
in foreign lands, but unable to forget John. At length she returns and rents 
for the summer a country place bordering upon the same mountain village 
near which John and the child are living. One day when driving in her motor 
car she is attracted by a boy who is playing by the roadside. Marie makes the 
acquaintance of Dan. Marie and John are each entirely ignorant of the prox- 
imity of the other, but 1he climax comes when Dan is rescued from drowning 
by Marie, who takes him to her home, and sends an anonymous note with her 


chauffeur to Sterne's home. John springs into the motor car, and unsuspect- 
ing is driven to Marie's home. When John enters, Marie is bending over Dan, 
telling him a fairy tale. At the sight of Marie, he starts violently. Marie 
springs to her feet. Dan catches sight of his uncle, and claps his hands for 
joy. She and John kneel on either side of the lounge, and the two clasp hands 
across the little form. 

LOCKED OUT ("Dec. 6). — Mr. Jones having rented some rooms in his house, 
finds it difficult to collect rent from a young couple named Grim. One night 
Jones and his wife hear suspicious noises in the Grim apartment, and thinking 
they are moving, decide to keep an eye on them. He goes to the sidewalk 
dressed only in his night clothes, when the door slams and he is locked out. 
Someone passing causes him to hide in a large hamper belonging to the Grim's. 
The basket is put into a moving wagon, from which it has many rough falls and 
bumps before being captured and put on the wagon again. Finally it is landed 
at the new Grim's apartments. In the meantime Mrs. Jones, who has missed 
her husband from the room, telephones the police and an investigation ensues 
without avail. Grim and his wife become frightened at the noise in the ham- 
per and takes a few shots at it. When the basket is at last opened, Jones pleads 
to be sent back home. The basket lands back home at an expense of seventeen 
dollars and twenty-nine cents expressage. The wife pays the bill and is happy 
to get back her husband, who is none the worse off for his rough experience. 

HIS FATHER'S CHOICE (Dec. 6).— Jack Halsted is in love with Ger- 
trude Terry a very fine but poor girl. When his father, Ravel Halsted, discovers 
this, he threatens to cut him off without a cent. Jack being dependent on his 
father, is in a fine predicament and goes to a Mrs. Robbins for advice. Her 
sympathies are all with Jack, and she asks him to bring the girl. Jack brings 
Gertrude, and Mrs. Robbins fails in love with her. The young people tell Mrs. 
Robbins their story and in each other's arms they weep. Then Jack dec'des 
that they will both commit suicide, and shows how he will first shoot himself 
and then Gertrude, and they will lay down in a nice position, and die in each 
other's arms. Presently the father comes in and staring at Gertrude remem- 
bers that he has met her at a society function. Papa Halsted and Mrs. Rob- 
bins give each other the wink and the scene ends with "God bless you, my chil- 

A SOLDIERS FURLOUGH (Dec. 7).— Private Robert Adair gets a ten 
days' furlough to visit his mother who is very ill. She dies and we see Robert 
and Tom, his brother, burying their mother. Robert has to leave his brother 
and return to camp before his furlough is up, leaving Tom with Roco, an old 
friend. Roco, while en route to visit Tom, meets Jim, a squaw man, who asks 
him for money, which Roco refuses. Two of the squaw man's Indian associates 
come up and he gives them some whiskey and secures their assistance in his 
determination to rob Roco, but finding two men at the home he tries to coerce 
the Indians into shooting them both. They refuse, however, even when tempted 
by liquor, so the squaw man shoots, killing Robert's brother. Roco manages 
to get away and warns Robert, whom he finds in the village, where he has 
stopped for food. Robert, when he learns the sad news, forgets about his being 
a soldier and returns to the home, to find it ransacked and his brother dead. He 
swears vengeance and after securing the promise of his friends that they will 
bury his brother, he trails the squaw man, catches up with him on the top of 
a freight train ; they struggle and fall from the train. The squaw man, get- 
ting away from him, holds up an auto, attempts to run it, and it goes over a 
bank. Robert comes up to him and they have a hand-to-hand fight down the 
side of a mountain, where Robert gets the best of him and chokes him to death. 
Being out of his mind from his intense mental agony, he puts him on his back 
and carries him all the way back to camp, where he reports to his command- 
ing officer, telling him the reason why he committed the crime. He is placed 
under arrest to await his punishment. Thus we leave one who has suffered 


A LUCKY FALL (Dec. 9). — Jack Holingsworth and Kate, wife, came to 
Placerville with the gold seekers. One day when Jack was in town, the stage 
drove up and deposited an old chum who had been his school mate in the East. 
They renewed friendship and became partners. They made trips together over 
the mountains in quest of gold, frequently remaining away weeks at a time. One 
of these trips seemed longer and more lonesome to the little wife, so she donned 
a suit of Jack's clothes and started on a prospecting tour. She stumbled onto 
a grizzly bear. She backed away fearing to disturb him. Failing to see a 
nearby precipice, she went down tumbling and rolling, until she reached the 
bottom. Getting on her feet she was about to start for home again when right 
before her lay the unmistakable sign of a paying claim — gold bearing quartz 


in abundance. Putting a few samples in her coat pocket she trudged along un- 
til she reached home. Wishing to surprise her husband when he conies home, 
she recorded the claim and had the ore assayed, but had not counted on a dis- 
honest assayer, who told her the ore assayed only $30.00 to the ton instead of 
$3,000. He offered her $150 for her claim which was willingly accepted. She 
went with the assayer to show him the location of the claim and while away 
Jack and Will returned empty handed to the cabin. Kate was not there but 
they found the assay sheet on the table, showing $30.00 for each 2,000 lbs. 
Thinking she might be in town, they dropped into the assayer's office. There 
they saw the entry under her name of $3,000 to the ton. Suspecting the truth 
they hurried out, informed the sheriff and started in pursuit to prevent the 
sale. They reached there just as Kate was about to sign the assignment. The 
sheriff took the assayer in charge. It was the biggest gold find the town had 
ever heard of, and happiness reigned ever after in the little family of gold 

THE WONDERFUL ONE HORSE SHAY (Dec. 10).— Parson Burroughs 
who owns the shay, spends much of his time courting widow Hubbard. The 
parson discovers that he has a dangerous rival in the person of Abe Hobbs. 
Meanwhile, the widow's daughter, Ethel, falls in love with Harry Smith. The 
widow's objections to Harry lead to clandestine love meetings between the young 
people. At Aunt Dinah's quilting party the parson "puts one over" on Hobbs 
by escorting the widow to the party. After the assemblage breaks up, nobbs 
hurries outside to invite the widow to ride home in his rig. But the one horse 
shay stood right in front of Aunt Dinah's house, and when the parson asked 
permission to drive the widow home she accepted. Hobbs, not to be outdone, 
invites the village Justice of the Peace to jump in his rig and drive with him 
to the batter's office. Here he secures a marriage license and starts back to 
the widow's home. The parson and the widow arrive ahead of him to discover 
that Ethel and Harry have just eloped. A farm hand tells them the direction 
the runaways have taken and the old folks start in hot pursuit. Hobbs, armed 
with a marriage license and wedding ring, arrives immediately after their de- 
parture, and decides to follow them. Ethel and Harry speed down to the Jus- 
tice of Peace office. The widow and parson are almost upon the elopers when 
"all at once the horse stood still." The parson and widow find themselves 
seated in the roadway, the parson half-stunned, holding on stupidly to the horse 
reins, while the widow, her back to his, is sprawled, half dazed, in the road. The 
widow staggers to her feet and starts up the road to return on foot to her 
home. With the widow in this frame of mind, Abe Hobbs overtakes her in 
his buggy. He proposes, is accepted on the spot, and he persuades the widow 
to go to the parson at once. They retrace their steps in the buggy to where the 
parson, surrounded by the villagers stands gazing foolishly at the little heap on 
the ground. He nearly drops dead when Hobbs and the widow drive up, dis- 
plav ring and license, and ask to be married. But the old lovers insist, and 
the' Parson digs down into the wreckage to find his Bible. Then with the widow 
and Hobbs standing in their buggy, he marries them. As he pronounces them 
man and wife, Harry and Ethel enter, with the announcement that they have 
been to the Justice of Peace and have been married. It is up to the old folks 
to forgive them, and they do so. 

KITTY AND THE BANDITS (Dec. 12). — Dorothy and Kitty Budd, daugh- 
ters of Col. Budd are giving a ball to introduce Kitty into society. Senor Yaro, 
a visiting Spaniard of the diplomatic corps, is in love with Kitty, who in turn 
is secretly in love with Harry Mitchell, a captain at the post. At the ball Senor 
Y'aro"s jealousy s aroused by Kitty's attention to Harry and believing that Kitty 
has encouraged himself, he calls her to account. Losing his temper he is about 
to lay violent hands upon her when she is rescued by Harry who orders Senor 
Yaro to leave. 

The next evening Harry and Kitty are out riding when Harry receives a 
letter from an officer who is arriving by the evening"s train. As a joke he and 
Kitty plan to hold up the ambulance on its way from the depot. She helps 
Harry and some of his companions to disguise themselves as bandits. Senor 
Yaro overhears the rcheme and seeing a chance to revenge himself he persuades 
Colonel Budd to send a troop of calvary to shoot down the bandits who, Senor 
Yaro tells him, are the real thing. Bob Wilson, a friend of Harry's and in 
love with Kittv's sister Dorothy, is sent in command accompanied by Senor 
Yaro. Kitty returns home and tells her sister Dorothy of the joke. Dorothy 
in turn tells Kitty of Yaro's report. Fearful that the troop will shoot before 
the truth is discovered Kitty rides after it and arrives just in time to save her 
lover and his friends from being shot to pieces. 

THE CROOKED PATH (Two reels) (Dec. 13). — A valuable watch and 
money stolen from a banker by Dan Lyons results in the arrest and conviction 


of the crook. While his sweetheart, Nell Harris, sits alone in the park reading 
of the long prison sentence given her lover, she is approached by a young cler- 
gyman, William Kimball, who questions her regarding her trouble. Nell admits 
her wrong deeds and tells him of her desire to follow the straight and narrow 
path. Kimball takes her to his blind mother and soon grows to love her. 
They become engaged and Nell is very happy. Dan Lyons in his prison cell 
succeeds in communicating with his pals by means of a note tied to a rat's 
tail and receives a supply of saws with which he effects his escape. He changes 
his convict's suit for the old clothes of a scarecrow and arrives in the town 
in which Nell lives. He sends her a note asking her to return to the old life, 
but she refuses, and in revenge Lyons plans to rob the home of William Kim- 
ball. He and his pal are discovered and handed over to the police, and the min- 
ister accuses Nell of assisting in the robbery. She confesses her former as- 
sociations with the crook and is forgiven by her fiance, who promises to shield 
her from all future evils of the Crooked Path. 

BUSTER AND THE CANNIBALS (Dec. 13).— After Henrietta has eaten 
all of Buster's candy, Brooks appears with a story book. The fickle maiden 
puts Buster out of her hammock and invites Brooks to sit in beside her. Bus- 
ter runs home crying. His father to comfort him takes him on his lap and 
shows him pictures of cannibals. Buster falls asleep and dreams that he is an 
explorer and has been wrecked upon a desert island. Being weary he lies on 
the sand to sleep. Fijiwiji, a cannibal girl, discovers Buster and awakens bim. 
Buster, while he is making love to her is surrounded by cannibals. The canni- 
bals tie him and lead him before the throne of King Kaliko. Calling his cook, 
the king told him to put Buster into the fattening pen. In the pen, Buster 
decides that he'd better make the most of his last moments and takes out his 
watch to see hoy many last moments he has. 

Fijiwiji who has been hanging around to comfort Buster, sees the watch 
and hears it tick. She is astonished. She calls the cannibals. They release 
Buster and declare him king. Fijiwiji leads him to the throne and all the 
cannibals bow low before him. King Kaliko returns and Buster orders him -pre- 
pared for dinner. Buster now reigns supreme and orders elaborate preparations 
for his marriage to Fijiwiji. But alas ! — although a savage, Fijiwiji is "a fe- 
male of the species" and curious. Her curiosity is so aroused by the watch 
that she cannot keep her hands offff it and at last she lets it fall. When they 
pick it up it is silent, it is broken. When the cannibals come again and bow 
before Buster's throne asking him to let them hear the watch, Buster tries to 
bluff it off. When Buster fails to make good on the tick-tick proposition, his 
subjects begin to mutter and finally Bolo Bill gets it into his head that Buster 
would be of more service to the island community in the pot than he would on 
the throne. He leads the others to the pen where they release King Kaliko. 
Buster is wise enough to know th at h is reign is ended and the jig is up, so 
grasping Fijiwiji's hand he cries, "Let's beat it." They do. They both run 
down the beach. Brandishing spears and emitting ear splitting and blood curd- 
ling cries, the cannibals pursue them until Buster wakes up on his father lap 
and hangs on to his necktie for dear life. 

WHEN LOVE LEADS (Dec. 14). — John Morden, a manufacturer, has an 
only son whom he wishes to take into his company. He plans that David shall 
marry Josephine Claggett, daughter of his partner. On the day of David's re- 
turn from college, Morden takes him to his office to make his proposition. Just 
as the two ascend the steps a beautiful* and refined looking girl appears in the 
doorway. Her eyes and David's meet for a second. Then he recalls her as the 
little girl he used to play with when a child. Morden makes his offer and David 
declines it. 

Several days later he meets Josephine Claggett at the party. She is pleased 
with David, but he is thinking of Madge. David goes to the city, and gains 
a position on one of the newspapers. Later Madge loses her place in the fac- 
tory, and she too goes to the city, knowing nothing, however of David's move- 
ments. One day she and David meet in the office of David's newspaper. They 
get married. For awhile David and Madge are happy. Then ill-health over- 
takes David. Madge is the sole support. One day she puts their little boy to 
sleep and starts back to her work. David, still ill, insists upon going with her. 
In the crowded street the two are separated. Madge starts back to him. An 
automobile bears down upon her and she is killed. David is rendered insane 
and committed to an asylum. His memory has become a blank, and his iden- 
tity is unknown. The boy is found by. an old scrub-woman, and carried to a 
Children's Home. One diy a sorrowful lady appears wishing to adopt a child. 
It is David's mother. She is attracted to the noble-looking boy of unknown 
parentage and she selects him. In the home the child works a transformation. 
Morden, remorseful, having tried unsuccessfully to find David, has taken to 


drink. Through a renewed interest in life, brought about by his love of the 
child, he reforms and becomes a changed being. Finally reason and memory re- 
turn to David. He seeks his child. Wretched and penniless, he determines to 
go to his mother for money. He sees his mother, and indistinctly, his father, 
holding a child in his arms. He draws nearer. His heart leaps. He dashes 
into the room. The child sees him and reconciliation and peace follow 


TWO OP A KIND (Nov. 19). — Jane, the daughter of a socially inclined 
mother, bates balls. She wants to become a teacher at a charitable kinder- 
garten. Her mother will not listen to this. Mrs. Morton, another society lead- 
er, has a son, Jack, who runs away from all his mother's balls. She insists up- 
on his coming to one. Jane and her mother, with cousin Vera, attend. Jack is 
forced to ask Vera to dance, but he makes a bad job of it. Jane with her 
scowls frightens every one away. She seeks refuge in the conservatory. She 
sees Jack trying to take Vera around the floor and laughs. Later he stumble? 
into the conservatory. Jane tells Jack of seeing him dance. They laugh and 
get a bit friendly. Next morning Jane says she will leave home if she is not 
permitted to go and teach. Her mother consents. Jane finds her element at 
the kindergarten. One day by chance she meets Jack downtown. She asks 
him in to see the work. He goes. Jane's mother, paying a visit to her ob- 
stinate daughter, finds Jack and Jane in the midst of a hilarious time in the 
kindergarten. Perfectly satisfied, she returns home. A few nights later Jack 
calls upon Jane. In the parlor they have no trouble in entertaining each other. 
Jane's mother stumbles in just as Jack is handing the girl a bunch of flowers, 
and immediately comes to the wrong conclusion. She thinks the two are in 
love. Excusing herself, she leaves. Jane attempts to explain, but Jack takes 
her into his arms and they become sweethearts. 

'AN OLD LOVE LETTER (Nov. 24). — In a family of four girls the young- 
est sister, Muad, is sixteen. Maud's mother runs a boarding house, and John 
Bruce makes his home with the fanily, falling in love with Maud's oldest sis- 
ter, Dolly. Bruce is shy, and cannot nerve himself to tell Dolly of his love. 
He writes her a rote in which he asks her to be his wife, giving it to the maid 
to deliver. Little sister Maud loves Bruce, but is never even allowed to talk 
to him. She makes a confidante of the maid, and they scheme between them to 
spoil Dolly's love affair. The maid gives Bruce's letter of proposal to Dolly, 
but Maud gets possession of it later and, putting it in a fresh envelope, gives it 
to each one of her sisters in turn. They each think that Bruce has made them 
an offer of marriage, and rush to their mother with the glad news ,only to dis- 
cover that he has proposed to each of them. The result is disastrous to Bruce, 
and he leaves town without getting a hearing. Maud repents and tries to get 
him to remain, but without success. However, she succeeds in making him see 
that he has overlooked the prize sister of them all, and three years later, when 
he returns to claim her has his bride, he meets the three sisters, walking with 
their husbands, each wheeling a bouncing baby. 

the son of aristocratic and sedate parents, is in love with Zelda Thorps, a light 
opera prima donna. The following morning Archie, who is at a medical college, 
receives a letter from bis mother in which she asks him to bring his fiancee for 
Sunday dinner, Mrs. Calvert's idea being that the high-class deportment of her- 
self and daughter and the supposedly vulgar personality of Zelda will wean her 
son's infatuation away from the prima donna. Archie calls upon Zelda and, 
after telling her of his mother's high mindedness, she has her maid dress her 
up as a typicai chorus girl. She appears thus arrayed before the mother of 
Archie, who is greatly shocked and orders her from the house. Just before 
dinner, she discards her disguise and appears as a plainly dressed young lady, 
with no other jewelry except her engagement ring, much to the pleasure of Mrs. 
Calvert. After dinner Archie and Zelda withdraw from the house and go for 
a stroll. As they are leaving the veranda they discover Nora and Dennis, the 
Calvert footman, whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears. As they 
walk away unseen, Archie promises that if Dennis can win Nora, their future 

shall be the care of Zelda and himself. 

THE HYPNOTIC CHAIR (Dec 1). — Professor Henrick has invented a 
wonderful hypnotic chair which, when the proper current is turned on, pos- 
sesses the power of emsmerising dozens of people at the same time. His friends 
give him a banquet, and after he drinks a great many toasts, he decides to 


finish the night on the Great White Way, instead of returning home. Miss 
Gaylife accompanies him and in his friendly mood he. invites many extraordi- 
nary people to visit him. His wife, discovering he has not come home all night, 
starts out for his office and arrives just as the professor and his assistant, 
Profesor Scardon, are trying to persuade Miss Gaylife to leave the office. She 
refuses and they get an idea. They place her in the hypnotic chair and when the 
furious wife enters she is told . that Miss Gaylife is a patient. Just then the 
bell r ignsand a street cleaner is shown in. To quiet him, the professor pushes 
him toward Miss Gaylife — he touches her gown — the current turned on and 
he stands powerless also. The scientific visits the professor and come in con- 
tact with the others and are immediately electrified. But the doctor's assistant 
puts on rubber gloves and pdoceeds to release them one by one. General con- 
fusion en?ues and as Mrs. Henrick still shows fight she is pushed back into the 
chair while the professor, his assitant, with Mis Gaylife, start back to the Great 
White Way, leaving a sign on the door informing all callers that they will be 
gone for six months. 

IN OLD TOWN (Dec. 3). — Peggy Milton returns to the old town from a 
fashionable boarding school. She is met at the depot by her affectionate par- 
ents and her old sweetheart, Tom Harland. But Peggy has been spoiled by the 
fashionable school. She is cold to Tom, and snubs her parents. When she 
gets to the house she begins to cry because it is not like the sweel residences 
of her classmates. She finds fault with her room and decorates it with college 
flags, photographs of athletic teams, etc. 

Tom Harland comes to call and sees her reading a pile of novels. He is 
disgusted and goes to talk with her father. In Peggy's room, Tom gets an idea 
and whispers it to the old man. Tom leaves, carrying with him the scrap book 
of photographs. That night, he and the fellows get together and dress themselves 
up to look like the college boys in the scrap book. Tom leads the practice and 
is so successful in the rehearsal that the. town constable comes to find out the 
cause of the noise. When they tell him, he enjoys the joke too. As there is a 
ball at the Lodge Hall that night, the fellows start out to call for their sweet- 
hearts. Tom goes for Peggy. She is disgusted at his costume and refuses to 
go. But her parents make her go. 

At the dance hall, the fellows all come in, and get in the middle of the 
floor and give college cheers, etc., to the disgust of the girls. Tom shows Peggy 
home, and afterwards the boys give her a serenade in true college style 

The next day Tom borrows an automobile and a chauffeur from a friend, 
and comes to take Peggy for a ride. He has it filled with champagne bottles, and 
pretends to be half drunk. He carries this on until at last, she is disgusted 
and begs him to be himself, whereupon he tells her the truth, and they end up 
with an engagement party. 


A WHITE LIE (Nov. 11). — Grace and Dick Cpencer are orphans. Dick 
goes West and becomes a cowboy. Eventually the ranch boss is unable to con- 
done Dick's fits of intemperance any longer and dismisses him. Dick droAvns 
his sorrows at a saloon and joins a game of cards, and in a half-drunk condition 
he makes mistakes, is accused of cheating and ejected from the saloon. Dick 
sits down by the roadside and makes resolutions for the future. Bess, the sher- 
iff's daughter, is out riding. She dismounts to pick some flowers and is bitten 
by a rattlesnake. Dick hears her cries and running to her he kills the snake and 
cuts around the bite and sucks the poison out. He attempts to carry her back, 
the horse having run away, but dissipation has sapped his strength, and he 
makes her as comfortable as possible and hastens into town to get help. 

The sheriff and some cowboys see the riderless horse. On the outskirts of 
the town they meet Dick, who is exhausted and falls, hurting his hip. He rises 
as the sheriff asks him where his daughter is, and what he is doing here. Dick 
attempts to speak, and places his hand to his injured hip. The action is mis- 
judged and he is shot by the sheriff. Dick motions to one of the boys and gasps 
out the facts. The sheriff is overcome with grief at his hasty action and, bid- 
ding the boys take Dick carefully to his house, the sheriff rides on and brings 
Bess back. 

Grace is sent for, but does not arive in time to see her brother alive. Be- 
fore he dies Dick freely forgives the sheriff, whom he begs not to tell Grace 
he was a "bad man." Dick dies smiling and with Bess's kiss upon his lips. 
The boys all agree that Grace shal only know the good about her brother, and 
are just in time to finish the roughly hewn and inscribed headstone when she 
arrives. Grace reads the fact that Dick died a hero, and adds to the numerous 


wreaths on the newly made grave, and the sheriff tells her that he now has 
two daughters, instead of one. 

DAD'S MISTAKE (Nov. 13). — Jack Dowling goes West and buys a ranch. 
Here he meets Dorothy Davies, who lives upon an adjoining ranch. The young 
couple instantly become interested in each other. Dorothy tells Jack to be nice 
to her big sister, Amy, and he may be able to see more of her, as her father, 
Basil Davies, is very strict with tbe girl, and kind-hearted Amy acts as a kind 
of mother to the girl. Jack follows her advice, and as a result the father be- 
lieves him in love with Amy, so that when Jack writes a note to Basil, asking 
for his daughter's hand in marriage, the father accepts for his eldest daughter, 
and when the young man appears it is big, rosy Amy who greets him. Jack is 
nonplused, but at last manages to explain to the sister that it is Dorothy with 
whom he is in love. As she leaves to find her younger sister, Dorothy appears 
to upbraid Jack for his falseness, as Basil has already told her of his proposal. 
The young man explains her father's error as Basil enters to find them radiantly 
happy, but he will not give his consent until ,Amy appears to plead for her sis- 
ter's hapiness. 

A COWGIRL CINDERELLA (Nov. 15). — Jack Rae, after working hard, 
graduates from colege, but contracts a bad cough, and the doctor orders him 
to go to Arizona. He duly arrives at his uncle's ranch, and makes the ac- 
quaintance of the "help," Abigail. There is a girl, of course, who is fascinated 
with Jack's face and manners. Her name is Evelyn. She is visiting her uncle 
and aunt, who live upon the adjoining ranch. 

Evelyn is to be given a party. She gets ber things ready and discovers that 
the heel of one of her white slippers is loose. She asks a cowboy to take it 
to the village to be fixed. He does this, but loses it on the way. Jack comes 
along, sees the slipper and confiscates it, and falls promptly and foolishly in 
love with its unknown owner. Despite the amusement he causes his uncle and 
aunt, Jack places the sliyper on the mantel. Abigail thinks this silly, and Bill, 
another cowboy who has his eye on Abigail, thinks she is the same to even 
think of the Easterner. The great evening arrives, and Jack forgets the romance 
of the shoe before the attraction of Evelyn. They become great friend?? im- 
mediately. This suits Bill, who gets all the dances he wants with Abigail. 
Evelyn calls to see Jack's uncle and aunt. She sees the shoe and twits him with 
treasuring it. He tries it on her foot. He later sees the mate and suggests 
they be like the shoes — an impertinent suggestion, which meets with response 
and approval. Abigail hears the story of the slipper and tries to see what 
losing her shoe wil do. Bill finds the substantial affair and repairs the gate 
hinge with it. Abigail cries and Bill, apoligizes nicely and makes good, with 
the aid of his horseshoe ring. 

A FIGHT FOR FRIENDSHIIP (Nov. 18). — Will Irwin and Fred Seward 

are college chums and friends. O graduation day, being full-fledged engineers, 
the boys are reviewing the good times they have had together. During the tem- 
porary absence of the boys, some students enter the room and, as a joke, they 
mutilate several of Fred's photographs, throw his clothes around and put 
some of his more valuable belangins in Will's grip. Fred returns and flies into 
a passion and upon Will's entrance he accuses him and finally calls him a thief. 
They part bad friends. 

A few years roll by and Fred proposes to and is accepted by Mae Rand, the 
daughter of the rich contractor, John Rand. He is told to "ask papa." Fred 
selects a bad moment, for Mr. Rand is absorbed in a telegram which tells him 
that his chief engineer has quit his job and a big transportation project is held 
up. Fred sees the wire and offers his services. Rand accepts and tells him that 
if the contract is finished on time Fred can marry Mae. 

Fred goes to work diligently, but his progress is retarded by tht surround- 
ing ranchers, who object to tbe project. Finally they they descend upon the 
camp, intimidate the workmen and bribe the storekeeper not to furnish further 
supplies. Fred show T s fight and is knocked unconscious. 

The foreman, believing Fred to be in a serious condition, writes out a wire 
to send to Rand. As he is about to send it, Fred's old chum, Will, rides up 
seeking a job. He is acquainted with the facts, recognizes Fred and resolves to 
heap coals of fire on his head. He shows them his credentials and attacks 
matters in a determined way. Being refused stores, he makes a night raid, 
binding the storekeeper, and leaving his check for what he has taken. He de- 
mands the protection of the sheriff and deputies and fights the ranchers with 
his own coin. 

The work is completed as Fred recovers his reasoning powers. He asks to 
see the man who saved his bacon, but Will rides away in a good humor, leaving 
a little rote asking for the return and continuance of the old friendship. 


IN THE LONG RUN (Nov. 20).— A happy little family consisting of Jim 
DowJan, his wife and mother, just finish their meal and Jim rides away to 
town on business. No sooner has he gone than "One-shot Bill" rides up and 
seeing the two women alone, forces them to give him food and water,after 
which he sets out for town. Arriving there, he is recognized by the sheriff, 
but before they can capture him, Bill has made his. escape. Fleeing from the 
posse, Bill remembers the two timed women in the shack where he demanded 
fod, s hurries there and commands them to hide him As he hears the husband 
returning, Bill pushes the wife in the closet in front of him, informing the mother 
if she values her daughter's life not to reveal his hiding-place. Jim enters, 
but can get no satisfaction from the mother, but looking in the mirror on the 
opposite wall, he sees Bill as he opens the closet door to threaten her, and real- 
izes his wife's danger should ho make a false move. As he is trying to decide 
what would be the best to do, he hears the sheriff and his posse approaching. 
They enter the shack, but Jim is forced to declare he knows nothing of Bill. 
When the sheriff departs, Jim steps out on the pretext of joining his party, 
but really to tell of the desperado's hiding-place. Acting upon the sheriff's ad- 
vice, Jim mounts and rides away with the men, but not so the sheriff and his 
deputies. They station themselves on either side of the door, so when Bill, 
-Believing the coast clear, comes outside, they at once disarm him and lead him 
away to his just deserts. 

THE SHANGHAIED COWBOYS (Nov. 22K— The foreman of the O. D. 
Ranch is having the "deuce and all" of a time with his cooks. The last edition 
fires herself while in her usual unsober condition. The foreman plans a treat 
for the boys and engages a real live French cook. The boys are expectantly 
awaiting results and have brought a large appetite along with them. M. Caspar 
is introduced and greets one or two of the boys in enthusiastic style, leaving 
them wiping their faces in disgust. The course dinner is served in small por- 
tions and the finger bowl water duly drank and the boys ask for something to 
eat. Caspar is enraged, and goes. The boys adjourn, drink long and deep and 
hie themselves to a box car to talk it over. Deep slumber overtakes them and 
breaks up an interesting debate. The box car lands them in a seaport town. 
The captain of the "Narcy Lee" is over particular about the polishing of his 
deck and brasses. The seamen don't like the job and they desert in a body. The 
captain and the mate go ashore. They cannot sail without a crew. Disappoint- 
ment drives them to a saloon, and there they find a bunch of mystified cowboys 
trying to find out where they are and why? A bright idea strikes the captain, 
and for a slight consideration the barkeeper adds something to the boys' grog, 
which sends them into dreamland once more. When they awake they are con- 
fronted by the captain and his mate, are forced to don sailor togs and soly- 
stone decks and clamber into the rigging. They do it unwillingly and ungrace- 
fully. The boys concoct a plan. Tbey wait their chances and lasso the captain 
and the mate and force the man at the wheel to steer for terra firma. Arriving, 
they take the first train home and are received with open arms by the puzzled 
foreman and two delightful girls, who are assisting the repentant and reinstated 
cooky "of the first part" in the culinary department. 

sees the cowboys off on the roundup, and is left alone with his wife and baby 
Faber and Stern, two horse rustlers, know this and attempt to steal two horses. 
They are frustrated by Allison, and in an exchange of shots Faber is badly 
wounded in the left arm, and Allison sustains a flesh wound in his right arm. 
The men escape. Mrs. Allison binds her husband's arm and rides away for the 
sheriff and a doctor, leaving the baby with Allison. 

Faber insists upon returning. Stern accompanies him. Faber creeps up to 
the ranch house door and shoots Allison. Stern enters the house and see3 the 
man is beyond help. He sees the baby and, thinking it may starve, takes it 
away with him. He has a long and cold ride to his mountain shack, and upon 
his arrival discovers that the child has died from exposure. Years pass, and 
Stern becomes a horse dealer. He has kept a pretty little brooch which he 
found upon the baby. He runs across Worthless Dan, a boy of eighteen. Stern 
gives him food and persuades Dan to accompany him. They call upon Mrs. 
Allison, and while refusing to buy a horse she is attracted to Dan, who re- 
minds her strongly of what her boy would have been at his age. The next 
day Stern shows Dan tbe baby's brooch, and he tells Dan he can pass off as 
the widow's son if he (Dan) will do as he is told and help him (Stern) occas- 
ionally. Dan consents. Mrs. Allison is easily convinced and Dan goes to her, 
and soon learns to love this gracious lady. One night Stern enters the house 
and, seeing Dan alone, demands that he break open the safe and go with him. 
There is a fight, which Mrs. Allison witnesses, and Stern is ejected. Dan con- 
fesses the deception, but Mrs. Allison takes him to her heart. 


A FRIEND INDEED (Nov. 27). — John Lloyd has an invalid wife whom the 
doctor orders to go to the mountains. John's daughter Dorothy calls at the 
office where her father is employed as a confidential clerk, to tell him of the 
doctor's decision. The junior partner makes advances to the girl, which she 
he may take his wife avvay. John goes home and, after refusing to accept a 
repulses. Angry at this, he refuses to give John an advance in salary so that 
loan from the senior partner's son, who is also in love with Dorothy, and who 
both father and daughter favor, John takes out an old painting and hastens 
to an art dealer. The son, Willard Dowlan, follows and hears the dealer tell 
John that it Is only an imitation. John returns sorrowfully home, but Willard 
goes to his father's office. He finds that the clerks have gone, but expecting 
Mi. Dowlan, Sr., back, as the combination book was left on his desk, Willard 
takes this and opens the safe and gets $500 ; then writes a note to his father, 
telling him of taking the money, that he is stopping with friends that night 
and leaving early in the morning. He then commissions a friend to buy the 
painting, not telling who it is for. This the friend does, and the next morn- 
ing John is busy getting his wife's things ready to go to the station when a 
detective arrives to arrest him. The note was blown down, the money is not 
accounted for, so the junior partner at once sends an officer for John. John is 
brought to the office, but his tale of selling a painting at such a price, and be- 
ing unable to give the purchaser's name, causes even the senior partner to doubt 
John. Fortunately Willard has left a part of the things he wanted to take at 
the office, so returns to get them in the morning and makes satisfactory ex- 
planation. In consequence the senior partner takes John and his family to the 
mountains as his guests. 

a cowboy, does not possess the saving grace of humor. He is therefore made 
the butt of the boys' jokes. Bob is in love with Lela, the daughter of the boss 
of the ranch. The boys wrap a photograph of a lovely person in pink tights 
and suitably inscribed, in a lady's stocking and put it into Bob's pocket. He 
pulls it out at the wrong moment, and there is trouble, of course. 

Ta Gibson discovers an id. in a newspaper, stating that matrimonial agents 
are in town and willing to provide mates for all. The boys visit the agency 
and find it is being run by t?ro charming girls. They tell the girls that Bob Is 
on the lookout for a wife. The Bachelors' Club downtown is about to patch up 
matters with Lela when a procession winds up the ranch road consisting of all 
sorts and conditions of women, who show Bob's advertisement. He flees, is 
pursued, and is joined by Lela, who is indignant at the joke played upon her 
boy. They meet Pa Gibson, commandeer his buggy, drive to a minister's and 
are married. They return to the ranch and find the determined husband seek- 
ers sitting down to await Bob's appearance. When they learn he is married 
they swoop down upon the matrimonial agency in a body. The Bachelors' Club 
is interested, and the minister has his hands full of couples demanding to be 

Shorty and Lee, cowboys, arrive at the agency and find the two pretty 
agents counting their fees. The girls find the boys good to look upon and tell 
them to be at the station with piak carnations in their buttonholes, to meet two 
girls similarly decorated. Shorty and Lee are surprised and satisfied to find 
that the girls have apportioned themselves to them. 

< ROMANCE AND REALITY (Dec. 2). — Robert Milbank, a rich young New 
Yorker, is in love with Claire Rich. Claire is secretly engaged to another man 
and secretly regrets the step, for Robert appeals to her greatly. One evening, 
returning from a ball, he telis her of his love and she is obliged to admit that 
she is promised to another. Robert takes the news hardly and leaves her, going 
on a hunting trip to the West. 

Robert secures, a little cabin upon the Green Ranch where he becomes 
intimately acquainted with Mr. and Mrs. Green and their daughter Dorris. Rob- 
ert makes love to her and she falls under his spell readily. The process of 
this love passage is watched by a cowboy, Dick Miller, who would readily give 
his life to make Dorris happy. 

The wedding si near and the pretty dresses have been duly admired when 
Robert received a brief note from Claire. It tells him that she has broken off 
her marriage with ber fiance and that sbe Is free again. All the old love for 
the girl who Is in his own stage of society surges up and he writes a brief note 
to Dorris and rides away. The cowboys ride after Robert and catch him and 
bring him back unharmed at the request of Dorris. Mr. Green would shoot 
the man but Dorris tells them that if he is harmed she will kill herself so he 
Is allowed to go. Robert marries Claire and finds a handsome but cold partner, 
while Dorris pines and dies with faithful Dick near at hand. 


THE SILENT CALL (Dec. 4). — Col. Gray, who is bankrupt, is told by his 
doctor that a change of climate is imperative. John Seaton, a young man who 
hopes to marry his daughter, Jessie, insists upon the old Colonel accepting a 
loan sufficient to take him to the mountains. They leave for the mountains, 
where they meet Robert Thorne. The young people are mutually attracted, and 
it is not long before Jessie had forgotten John and promised Bob to be his wife. 
John becoming worried at her silence, goes to the mountains. The regular car- 
riage for the inn has gone, so John secures a horse from the livery stable, which 
the man warns John is not to be trusted. The horse throws John, and Bob, 
who sees the runaway, comes to John's rescue and takes the stranger to his 
own home. The next day Bob shows John his fiarcee's picture. After seeing 
Bob and Jessie together, John quietly slips away, leaving the others ignorant 
of his sacrifice. 

ALMOST A SUICIDE (Dec. 6). — They are newly married and all is as 
merry as a marriage bell until wifey leaves some sewing, and a needle, upon the 
chair and hubby sits down and gets up hurriedly. Hubby forgets himself and 
says a word which wifey says stamps him as no gentleman. Hubby leaves the 
room in a huff and wifey, deciding that life henceforth is a perfect blank, prac 
tices hysterics. 

Hubby gets nervous and wifey keeps it up for the brute's benefit until he 
discovers she is perfecting her art for his edification. He resolves to teach 
her a lesson and going to the dressing room he washes out a bottle with "Poi- 
son" on it and pours some soothing syrup into it. He drinks it and staggers 
out. Wifey seeing the bottle, runs for the first doctor, makes him alter his 
regular visiting list and drains him and his stomach pump to the beach. She 
likewise commandeers two officers, and they track hubby to the beach. 

Hubby repents too late, and after the officers have shrunk two perfectly 
good costumes "rescuing" him from the ocean, the doctor gives a vigorous per- 
formance with Hubby and. the stomach pump as the chief actors. Hubby con- 
fesses upon an empty stomach and wifey takes him home, indignant at the re- 
marks made by the crowd, the officers and the doctor. 

BRIDES AND BRIDLES (Dec. 6). — Ranchman Alston steers a good fat 
check from the sale of some steers and decides to take Ma Alston, his daughter 
and some of the cowboys to a circus which is visiting the village near by. Off 
they go ! Ma Alston has her hands full preventing Alston from visiting the 
hoochy-coochy and other side shows. She is annoyed at his mild flirtations with 
the snake charmer, who gives him a souvenir in a box. This is opened at home, 
disclosing a small snake with disastrous results. 

Two of the boys are passing the performance tent when they hear a girl's 
shriek. They clamber under the canvas in time to punish the bullying ring- 
master and to rescue the two girls, who are promptly discharged. They are in- 
vited to go to the ranch and the boys propose and are promptly accepted. Var- 
ious other complications occur and the party have many experiences to talk 
about and laugh over later. 


THE COUNTRY BOY (Nov. 20).— To recuperate after an illness, Betty 
Gray is sent to Montana from New York, to the ranch of her father's old friend, 
Tom Stanton. After a two months' stay Betty has grown to be a sturdy young 
woman and is ready to return home. Betty departs, leaving her heart behind 
her, but taking with her the heart of Bob Stanton, who is the boss of his fath- 
er's ranch. The lure of the city soon becomes too strong for young Stanton 
and he seeks its shadows. The life of a fire laddie appeals to him, and in due 
course he is appointed. Almost his first fire gives him an opportunity to prove 
his worth. At rhe risk of his life he enters a burning building and descends 
with a young woman in his arms. The young woman is — Betty. Need we say 

A QUESTION OF AGE (Nov. 21). — An old sweetheart of Mrs. Post has 
just arrived from England. When he learns that she is a widow with a daughter 
his old affection warms his heart again. He writes the widow a note, warning 
her that he is coming and adding that he will bring some toys for her little 
daughter. In Mrs. Post's absence the note is received by her.'Mittle daughter," 
a girl of twenty summers. Gweadoline Post is indignant, but soon decides to 
have some fun with her mother's admirer. A young man caller agrees to help 
the scheme along. On the way to his home he meets a boy and bribes him to 
- exchange apparel, reappearing a while later clad in knickerbockers. Gwendoline 

dons one of her schoolday frocks and greets the visitor. When the overgrown 
children get through playing tricks on the old codger he is a sorrv looking sight, 
but nevertheless happy, for Mrs. Post has grown tired of being 'a widow. 

RED EAGLE, THE LAWYER (Nov. 23).— A band of unscrupulous specu- 
lators seek to purchase for a mere pittance the rich lands of Iron Claw, a Yuma 
Indian. Iron Claw is wavering in his determination not to sign the deed. His 
daughter, White Feather, hurries to her lover, Red Eagle, an Indian attorney, 
and tells him the story. Red Eagle hurries back with her and is just in time 
to prevent the swindle. The gang lies in wait for Red Eagle on his return to 
his office, and as he passes they lay him low with a blow from a revolver butt. 
The band resumes its operations and plies Iron Claw with firewater until he 
no longer cares what happens and willingly signs the paper. White Feather, 
roaming through the woods, finds the unconscious Red Eagle. He is quickly 
revived and she takes him to her wigwam to dress his wound. It is then he 
learns of what has taken place. He tells the story to the Government agent, 
with the result that the deed is declared void and the swindlers thrown into 
prison. White Feather is charmed by Red Eagle's cleverness and consents to 
his protecting her always. 

THE SHERIFF'S BROTHER (Nov. 27). — That two brothers mav pursue 
widely different walks in life, and still plead guilty to the same emotion in 
regard to a very pretty young lady, is proven in this film. It falls to the lot 
of Jim Orr, the county sheriff, to arrest a band of notorious cattle rustlers. He 
learns that his brother, Dan, is a member of the band. Not only does the call 
of the blood make a strong appeal to Jim, but he is of the opinion that the 
girl he loves is in love with his brother, and for that reason he resigns his of- 
fice and allows Dan to escaps. Jim's sacrifice has its own reward, for as Dan 
is departing he thrusts a note into Jim's hand and rides rapidly away. The 
note is from the girl, and in it she informed Dan that his brother, the sheriff, 
is the man she loves. 

THE THREE BACHELORS' TURKEY (Nov. 28). — Three gay young bach- 
elors suddenly realize that it is Thanksgiving Day and that they have neither 
a turkey nor the wherewithal to secure one. They form a ways and means com- 
mittee to settle the difficulty, and ideas fly thick and fast. A visit to "Uncle" 
is the most logical suggestion offered, but the only collateral they can find, ex- 
cept the clothes on their backs, is an old suit, which they sadly admit is of in- 
sufficient value. One of the gentlemen -visits a pawnshop, where he exchanges 
the suit he was wearing for an old overcoat and $4 in cash. With the money he 
buys a turkey. His two roommates do precisely the same thing, so that when 
the committee reassembles there are three turkeys and a scarcity of bodily 
covering, as each has counted upon wearing the extra suit. The suit is be- 
ing pressed by one of the bachelors, but the hot iron is left too long in one 
spot, with the result that the trousers go up in smoke. Howevei', their appe- 
tites appeal too strongly, and regardless of appearances they enjoy their Thanks- 
giving feast. 

THE WINNING OF WHITE DOVE (Nov. 30). — Moose Head, a Yuma brave, 
seeking the hand of White Dove, the daughter of the chief, is informed by 
her father that he can only do so by securing the scalp of the Blackfoot chief, 
the hated enemy of the Yuma tribe. Moosehead sets forth, aDd upon reaching 
the Blackfoot camp he feigns illness. The deception wins him shelter, and the 
following day he makes an attempt upon the life of the chief. He is over- 
powered, but later escapes, and the whole Blackfoot tribe gives pursuit. Moose 
Head is still in the lead when he meets the Yuma chief and his own tribe. They 
give battle to the pursuers, and in the bitterly realistic struggle the Blackfoot 
chief is slain and Moose Head obtains the scarf. White Dove's dad keeps his 

HIS LITTLE INDIAN MODEL (Dec. 4). — Frank Russell, a celebrated ar- 
tist, is painting an Indian subject and has for a model an Indian girl around 
whom there seems to hang some mysterious suggestion of English ancestry. As 
the days go by the kindly disposition of the painter wins the heart of the In- 
dian maiden. Mrs. Russell pays a visit to her husband's camp and is greeted 
affectionately by him. This enrages Silver Cloud so much that she attempts 
to kill her rival, and nearly succeeds. While this thrilling scene is being en- 
acted, Russell has succeeded in learning from the Indian woman who claims 
to be the mother of the girl that Silver Cloud is really a white girl and that 
many years before, two children were saved from a shipwreck, one of them be- 
ing adopted by white settlers and the other taken by the savages. This knowl- 
edge completes a chain of circumstances which convince Russell that his wife 
and the little Indian model are sisters, and the very interesting, finely photo- 
graphed film ends happily. 


THE TENACIOUS LOVER (Dec. 5). — It needed somewhat extraordinary 
persistency for Tom Jenkins to win Myrtle Townseud over the prejudices of her 
family. But Tom was always a master of strategy. When he learns that his 
prospective sister-in-law has been ordered by the doctor to secure the services 
of a nurse for her baby, he masquerades as a woman and gets the job. An Eng- 
lish lord is anxious to win the hand of Myrtle, and while at the house Tom has 
an opportunity to prove the worthless character of the favored suitor. Of course, 
the duties of his new capacity place Tom in many predicaments, and his efforts 
to avoid discovery are highly amusing. 

THE SPENDTHRIFT'S REFORM (Dec. 7). — Dan Steele, a "man-about- 
town," is a consistent loser at cards, which compels Mrs. Steele to ask for money 
of her father, with whom the Steeles make their home. The stern old gentle- 
man refuses to give her money for any purpose other than to educate her son. 
From this allowance Mrs. Steele saves a little for a rainy day. The rainy day 
arrives. Steele returns home late one night and his patient wife is waiting 
for him. He con/ides' to her that his creditors have driven him to the wall. 
Mrs. Steele offers to secure the necessary money from her savings in a strong 
box which she keeps beneath her father's safe. Steele's heart is touched by 
this and be takes an oath to quit gambling forever. Her father, awakened by 
Mrs. Steele passing through his room, secures his revolver. In the darkness he 
sees a figure crouched near the, safe and he fires. There are troublous times 
in the Steele household until Mrs. Steele is pronounced out of danger. When 
she is well again she keeps her promise to pay Steele's present debts, and Steele 
keeps his promise. 

FATE'S DECREE (Dec. 11). — The necessity for illness is explained by 
the case of the Martinez family. Senora Martinez, although guiltless, is found 
by her husband in a compromising situation. With a bitter denunciation he or- 
ders her from his home, and even the pleading of their little daughter does not 
soften his heart. When it is finally proven to him that his wife is entirely in- 
nocent, Martinez is unable to find her to ask to be forgiven. Next his little 
daughter becomes ill from a peculiar complaint. Tbe physician orders that a 
nurse be engaged and Martinez advertises. Senora Martinez, seeking employ- 
ment, reads the ad. and violates her decision never to return to her old home 
again. Reaching the house she rushes, unannounced, to the bedside. The heart- 
broken child is overjoyed and is resting happily in her mother's arms when Mar- 
tinez enters the room and begs forgiveness. The happy family is united and 
the physician gives it as his opinion that the child's illness was fate's decree. 

THE COMPACT (Dec. 12). — John Blair, the District Attorney of a large 
city, is a drug fiend, and on the day he is to sum up the People's case in a cele- 
brated murder trial, he finds that he is unable to continue. A young lawyer, 
named Gary, who has followed the case, calls upon Blair, seeking employment. 
The following scene is achieved by a double exposure which is perfectly accom- 
plished. Confronting each other, the similarity of their countenances astounds 
them both and it gives Biair an idea. He offers Gary $1,000 to exchange posi- 
tions with him. Gary agrees and they exchange apparel. Blair goes to the 
poor lodgings of Gary, while Gary, accompanied by Blair's wife, who has not 
detected the substitution, goes to court. With an eloquent summing up Gary 
wins the case. It is then he breaks the news to Mrs. Blair. She is at first un- 
convinced, but finally they both go to Gary's boarding place where they find 
the real Blair — dead. His good Lame and the reputation of his family are at 
stake, so a compact is arranged, whereby Gary becomes Blair and the real Blair 
is buried as Gary, the mknown. 

hone was the laziest man in town and, try as she might, his good wife could 
never stir him to moviiag lively. Mickey gets away with a large portion of 
the family's rather meagre income, and is pursued by his wife and daughter 
and a few neighbors. The trail is lost at the railroad station and the pursuers 
return home, with the exception of Mickey's daughter, who lingers behind long 
enough to observe Mickey about to emerge from a baker's barrel. She locks the 
lid on the barrel with Mickey inside. A truckman claims the barrel among other 
freight, and swings it onto the tailboard of his truck. At the top of a hill the 
barrel rolls off and continues merrily on its way until it drops, with a thud, in 
the Mahone's back yard. But you can't keep a good man down, and Mickey 
admits that he is a good man, although a little sore after his journey. 

A LEG AND A LEGACY (Nov. 20). — Dave Wall receives a letter from his 
uncle's attorney stating that providing Dave marries a protegee of the old man. 
who Dave has not seen for sixteen or seventeen years, the entire fortune will 


be left to the new wife and Dave. Otherwise the fortune will revert to the 
State. Dave is in dire need of the wealth left by the old man and is thunder 
struck at the conditions under which the money is left to him. He commissions 
his man-servant to investigate and report to him regarding the beauty of the 
unknown girl. Joe starts his investigation and comes upon the young lady, who 
has been paddling in the river. She has replaced oDe shoe and stocking. She 
hears someone approaching and realizing the predicament she is in she quickly 
places the bare foot under her and sits on it. When the would-be hawkshaw 
discovers her, he realizes on seeing only the one foot that the girl is minus a 
leg. He so reports to his master. 

Dave resolves to let the fortune go by default, but when the landlord presses 
him for his rent, he realizes that there is nothing left for him but to take the 
best of a bad bargain. In themea ntimp a flirtation is taking place on the beach 
between Dave and a very handsome young lady. Dave, is badly smitten, par- 
ticularly so, after having saved the young lady from drowning. As the two be- 
come better acquainted, they learn one another's name when lo ! and behold! they 
discover that each is the one the other must marry to inherit the money. 

HER YESTERDAY (Nov. 22). — Flo, a village milliner, goes to the city 
and mingles with a vicious set. She is living with Dick in luxurious apart- 
ments. She wrtes her parents that she has a position in a millinery store at a 
small salary. They write that they are coming to visit her and she is alarmed. 
She rents a cheap room and introduces them to it as her home. They leave and 
she accompanies them to the station and then returns to the humble apartments 
and thinks of her deception, the shame of it all and the life she is leading, and 
she is obsessed by a desire to reform. 

That night she meets her agy companions at a cafe and tells them that 
she has decided to forsake the immoral life and return home. They greet her 
decision with jeers, but she lea/es. Sbe is followed by Dick to their apartments, 
but she repulses him and returns to her native village. There she meets An- 
son, who loves her. She loves him in return, but cannot bring herself to mate 
with the good man. She meets Dick on the street and he forces her to meet 
him, saying he must have money and she must assist him to get it. The build- 
ing committee of the village church meets and the money is entrusted to An- 
son. He passes the isolated spot where Flo meets Dick. Dick secretes himself 
and Anson shows Flo the money. Dick being a witness unbeknown to the min- 
ister. The preacher goes and Dick rejoins Flo and tells her he is going to rob 
the pastor. Flo forestalls him by gaining entrance to the study of the pas- 
tor through a window, armed with a revolver. Anscn is seated in an adjoining 
room. Dick enteis through the door and is covered by Flo with a gun. She 
demands him to go and not rob the church, but in her fright she weakens and 
Dick knocks the gun from he* hand, the noise of which arouses the minister 
and he grapples with Dick, overpowering him. Dick thinks he has the solu- 
tion and orders Anson to release him or he will tell the world the shame of 
Flo. She tells the preacher to hold him and then Dick tells of Flo's past life. 
When Dick has finished, the minister points to the door, bids Dick go, and takes 
the trembling girl in his arms. He will forgive and forget her past life. 

"THE WAY OF THE TRANSGRESSOR." (Nov. 17).— The odor of the pies 
like mother used to make tempted Happy Hollow and he fell. But he was cap- 
tured. Seeing his opportunity he used the pies to effect his escape, leaving, 
however, part of his clothing in the hands of a policeman blinded with them. 

Henry Hawkins, a life member of the original henpecks, is expected at the 
club, for a quiet game. To evade bis wife he drops his clothes out the window, 
where they fall into the hands of Happy who retires to a quiet spot in the gar- 
den to dress. By a ruse Hawkins escapes, through a cellar window. Mrs. Haw- 
kins supposes Happy to be her husband. Her voice starts Happy on a chase. 
Likewise Hawkins outside looking for his clothes. Her cry results in Happy's 
arrest by the officer whom he assaulted, Hawkins making his way to the club 
room is spotted by a watchful policeman. Coatless, he is a suspect. The club- 
room is raided and Hawkins caught. At the station Hawkins meets his wife 
face to face. To make the punishment fit the crime a wise judge delivers him 
to his wife for a life sentence. Happy, better off, gets sixty days without pie. 

"HAWKINS MOVES." (Nov. 29). — The Hawkins family learn that they 
have to move. Mr. and Mrs. Hawkins find and rent a suitable dwelling. Mov- 
ing day arrives, the van is packed and Mrs. Hawkins goes ahead leaving Haw- 
kins to follow the van and see to its safe arrival. It is a warm day. Bill and 
Jim, two typical moving men, suggest to Hawkins the advisability of quench- 
ing a consuming thirst. Hawkins though not a drinker, thinks their request 
reasonable and agrees. They stop at the fir.-t saloon and Hawkins for the first 
time experiences the reviving effects of the foaming fluid. 


The company of Bill and Jim is congenial, and they linger. Leaving with 
the wagon some time later several stops are made. The stops bave had their 
effects. Hawkins loses his bearings and several hours are consumed hunting 
for the new home. 

Now after hours of weary waiting Mrs. Hawkins found Hawkins with the 
furniture back in the house he originally moved from, and how she with mas- 
terly skill took charge of the situation contributes to the fun in this comedy. 


DON CAESAR DE BAZAN (Nov. 20) (2 reels). — Don Caesar is reduced to 
naught but his title, to save a poor youth, Lazarillo. Don Caesar fights the cap- 
tain of the king's guards and kills him. He is condemned to be shot and pend- 
ing the execution, is confined to jail with Lazarillo. Don Jose, the Prime Min- 
ister, suggests to Don Caesar that, although he is to die, he should marry be- 
fore the day of the execution and thus perpetuate his title. Don Caesar con- 
sents with the promise that he may drink with the soldiers before he is shot. 
While he is doing this, young Lazarillo extracts the bullets from the soldiers' 
guns. J ust previous to the execution Don Jose enters with Maritana, a flower 
girl, and she is wedded to Don Caesar. He is taken to the yard, the soldiers fire, 
Don Caesar falls, but when the men leave the court-yard, he escapes ; later he 
appears in disguise at a state ball in search of the bride whose face he has never 
■seen. On revealing himself to Don Jose, Don Caesar signs a paper disclaiming 
forever all title in favor of his supposed wife. An instant later he catches sight 
of Maritana, whose name, the Countess de Bazan, has been heralded and, tear- 
ing the document, starts in pursuit. Maritana, while briefly enjoying the King's 
protection, has repelled him. After humorous and dramatic episodes, Don Caesar, 
vaulting through Maritana's window, surprised a visiting noble. Lazarillo, who 
is in Maritana's employ, apprizes Don Caesar that the visitor is the King. Don 
Caesar demands to know the identity of a stranger in his wife's apartments. 
The King boldly asserts, "I am Don Caesar de Bazan." Don Caesar forcibly re- 
plies, "If you are Don Caesar de Bazan, I am the King of Spain." The King, 
in his dilemma, summons the guards to arrest Don Caesar, but the timely ar- 
rival of Maritana (who has been warned by Lazarillo) brings events to a climax 
and the union of Don Caesar and the flower girl is sanctioned by the King. 

FATHER (Nov. 23). — When John Morris loses his entire fortune on the 
stock exchange, his first thought is of his motherless son, Dick. He decides 
that the boy must have an education at all events. He gives Dick over to the 
charge of a lawyer to whom he also entrusts all he was able to save. The law- 
yer promises that the boy shall receive as good an education as possible. Sat- 
isfied that Dick will be cared for, the father disappears. For twenty years he 
works in a city far away from the town where his boy is at school. Ashamed 
of his poverty he never intrudes on Dick. A month before graduation day, the 
lawyer asks John for $100 which he says he must have before Dick graduates. 
John has not the money and there is no one of whom he may borrow it. Urged 
on by the fear that his boy will have the coveted diploma snatched away from 
him, he steals the money from his employers. On graduation day the father 
sits far back in the audience and watches his boy graduate with honors. Re- 
turning to the city, he is arrested. Dick is appointed lawyer for the employer. 
It is the boy's first case and pnxious to win, he makes an eloquent speech against 
his own father. The judge charges the jury, but before they can announce their 
decision, the lawyer dashes in and explains the whole case. The employer with- 
draws his charge. Dick, overcome with remorse greets his father with love and 
affection. * 

THANKSGIVING (Nov. 27). — According to the agreement of Dolly's sep- 
arated parents, she is to spend Thursday of each week with her father. As Dol- 
ly's mother" is preparing Thanksgiving dinner the maid takes her to her father, 
who gives her a big doll. On the way home Dolly gets lost and meets a poor 
girl by the name of Mary Gret. who invites her to her home. Dolly's mother 
is distracted upon the non-arrival of ber child. She telephones her husband to 
come to her, and together they go to the police station. Mary's parents also 
rush there. When Mary's parents return Mary is preparing the Thanksgiving 
dinner. A few minutes later a policeman arrives, who recognizes Dolly. He 
asks her to come to her home, but she refuses. Mary's father then slips out 
and he returns with Dolly's parents. Dolly suggests that they all go to her 
home for Thanksgiving dinner, and it is at this dinner that Dolly's parents are 


THE BROTHER OF THE "BAT" (Nov. 30).— Mabray Lewis is a young 
millionaire clubman who has led a very selfish life. He falls in love with Alice 
Graham, but she refuses to marry him until he has done something for some- 
body. She suggests joining the "Big Brother" movement and become brother to 
the "Bat," a small boy who that day was arrested for trying to steal her purse. 
Marbray agrees, and the "Bat' is paroled in his care. The boy has no use for 
his new guardian until he sees him box. Becoming interested, he suggests a new 
training. The "Bat," very much in earnest, is permitted to act as Marbray's 
trainer. Under his instructions the young millionaire is not permitted to eat 
anything he likes, he is deprived of his cigarettes and made to take cold baths 
and run for miles. He gets no sympathy from Alice, who approves of the train- 
ing. Just when the "Bat" is becoming fond of his new brother his real brother, 
a Bowery prize-fighter, known as the "Slugger," finds him and takes him back 
to the old life. The "Slugger" and his pals decide to have the "Bat" admit 
them into Marbray's home, so that they may rob it. The boy warns Marbray, 
who is giving a dinner party. The "Bat" pleads for his brother, and the young 
millionaire tells bim to go, but the "Slugger" announces he will take the "Bat" 
with him. Marbray suggests that they fight for the boy. The "Slugger" laughs 
at the idea, but agrees, and soon finds that he has a foeman worthy of his steel. 
Despite his best efforts, Marbray gets the best of him, and, true to bis promise, 
the "Slugger" leaves the boy with Marbray. When Alice rushes in with the 
other guests, alarmed at the noise, she finds him with a black eye and learns 
the whole story. Satisfied that Marbray is at last the man she would have him, 
she accepts him. — Forrest Halsey, Author. 

OLD MAM'SELLE'S SECRET (Dec. 4).— (2 reels) When the soldiers at- 
tacked the old home of the Von Hirschsprung family, the father buried his fam- 
ily treasure in the garden. In the fight that followed he was killed but his 
two sons survived. Having no money, and supposing their fortune stolen, the 
sons sell the old home to the Hellwig family. Cordnla, daughter of old Hell- 
wig, falls in love with Joseph, the younger of the Von Hirschsprung boys. He 
returns her affection, but her father will not permit the marriage, because of 
Joseph's poverty. One day Cordula, digging in the garden, unearths the Hirsch- 
sprung treasure and tells her father, who makes her vow never to tell of the 
finding of the money chest. Joseph deprived of his sweetheart, dies in pov- 
erty. Broken-hearted, Cordula removes her things to an upper apartment and 
vows she will never enjoy any of the ill gotten wealth. 

Years later, the only surviving member of the Von Hirschsprung marries a 
strolling player. Ten years later she is killed by accident during her act in 
the circus and her husband, to save his child from a similar fate, turns her over 
to the care of Nathan Hellwig, brother of Cordula. The child Fay, finds no wel- 
come in her new home until she meets Cordula now known as Old Mam'selle. 
She and Old Mam'selle have adjoining attic rooms and spend much time together. 
Everyone knows that Old Mam'selle has a secret, but no one knows just what it 
is. The years pass. John, son of the Hellwigs, returns from the Medical Uni- 
versity to fall in love with Fay. He is expected to marry Hortense, a rich 
widow with one child. Fay saves this child from an awful death by fire and 
wins John's admiration as well as his love. His mother refuses to accept Fay 
as a daughter. In the midst of all this confusion Old Mam'selle is taken ill. 
Before she dies she tells Fay that her, diary contains her secret and it must die 
with her. Fay promises to destroy the little book. After Old Mam'selle's death, 
Fay finds the book and is about to destroy it when John enters the room and 
sees her He demands that she give him the diary. She refuses at first but 
finally yields. Then she goes to her room to pack her things. Feeling herself 
very unwelcome at the Hellwigs she thinks she had better go away. John opens 
the little book and reads the whole story of the Hellwig wealth and how it all 
belongs to the Hirschsprung family. He rushes out of the room with the book 
and finds Fay ready to leave. She has her grip in her hands. He takes it from 
her and begs her to remain. As be takes the grip he notices the name Meta 
Von Hirschsprung, with a crest printed across it. He stares at Fay and asks 
her whose grip it is. She replies it belonged to her mother who took it with 
her when she ran away to be married. Then John knows that Fay is the sole 
remaining member of the once famous Von Hirschsprung and that the money be- 
ing enioved by the Hellwigs belongs to ber. He tells her and she realizes that 
she is rich, feels free to accept his heart offered to her in the days when he did 
not know she had a single penny to her name. 


CAMPING OUT (Nov. 14). — The voung people decide to go camping, with 
Hobbs and Priscilla in the role of chaperones. Everything is in readiness when 
a quarrel arises as to the location of the proposed camp. The women array 


themselves against the men and there is a three-cornered quarrel and they de- 
cide to camp separately. They pitch their tents on a creek a short distance from 
one another, both parties being unaware of the close proximity of the other. 
The women have trouble in putting up their tents and the girls leave in dis- 
gust. Hobbs takes his rod and goes up the creek fishing and comes on Priscilla. 
They are surprised to see each other, but forget animosities and he helps her 
put up the tent. They resolve to keep the secret and not tell their companions, 
and Hobbs sneaks off. 

Jack meets Jennie, treed by a cow, and he effects a heroic rescue. She and 
Jack pledge themselves to keep the meeting a secret and they part. Grace walks 
out and discovers the tent of the young men. Like the others she : : s surprised, 
but takes pity on the men from the fact that their tent is untidy. She sets 
about to right things. She is found there by Dick. They decide to keep their 

Two tramps appear on the scene and each of the lovers fear for the safety 
of their sweethearts. Unbeknown to each other, they arm themselves and seek 
places of vantage near the tent of the girls. The women rush home and seek 
refuge in their tent and the tramps appear. Hobbs in his excitement allows 
his gun to be discharged and the whole secret is out and the parties are re- 
vealed to each other. 

A MOTHER'S AWAKENING (Nov. 17).— The suffragette's child, left to the 
care of servants, is not allowed to disturb the busy mother. She makes friends 
with the little girl next door of humbler circumstances. Jennie Smith has some 
kitties greatly admired by the little suffragecte, Alice James. Jennie parts with 
one of her pets, and Alice takes kitty home. The servants are horrified at hav- 
ing the animal in the house on account of germs. When Alice refuses to part 
with the pet, her mother is appealed to. The mother demands the animal shall 
be instantly removed. Alice slips out of bed at night to sit by her little friend's 
window to hear the wonderful bed-time stories told by Jennie's mother. Alice 
decides to write to the editor of the paper and asks him to find her a mother 
who will tell her stories and let her have a kitty. Alice, who was writing the 
letter in her mother's offices, hears someone coming aad escapes. It is her 
mother. She discovers her child's letter and repents. 

FOR THE LOVE OP MIKE fNov. 30). — Mary is the sole caretaker of her 
crippled brother. Tom. Mary falls in love with the hero in the book she so often 
reads to Tom and dreams of loving such a character in life. Her employer ar- 
dently admires Mary, and desires her for his wife. Tom one day visits the qtiar- 
ry owned by his sister's employer, and there meets Mike, a robust, kind Irish- 
man, who invites the little cripple to share his lunch and opinions. A fast 
friendship springs up between the two. On another visit the boy ventures too 
near a dangerous point in the quarry, and is slightly injured and stunned by a 
flying piece of stone. Mike is the first to reach him. Mike takes him home, and 
for the first time learns of Mary in th" boy's delirium. He stays by Tom until 
Mary returns from the office. At their meeting a mutual interest springs up 
between the two, which is fostered by a further acquaintance and soon develops 
into love. Shortly after the incident, Murray proposes to Mary, offering her 
wealth, luxury and ease if she will marry him. 'For the love of Mike she sac- 
rifices all, and refuses. A little later Murray rides out to the quarry, with 
Mary, where she meets Tom. The interest taken in each other by the two con- 
vinces Murray that Mike is the obstacle in his path. He discharges Mike. But 
for the love of Mike the men all quit, and refuse to return to work until he is 
reinstated. The superintendent telephones Murray, telling him of the occurrence. 
Murray refuses, but whe.i he sees the contracts on his desk necessitating the 
work to be completed within a stated time, he consents to the reinstatement of 
Mike. Mike asks Tom whether he consents and Tom does for the love of Mike. 

"A HEART RECLAIMED" (Dec. 3). — William Hartridge calls on his friend 
Jack Storm, and finds him proceeding to get drunk. • Storm tells the story of 
how he loved the girl and won her love ; how their troth was plighted ; how her 
father went dtfwn in the crash in Wall Street ; how a wealthy broker, in love 
with the girl, alone could save him. The father went to the girl and told her 
she alone could save the family honor by marrying the broker. She promised 
her father that she would carry out his wish and marry the broker. Hartridge 
heard the story and told bim to come to the club and forget his grief. He did 
so but with no success. He left the club. A few hours later his friends learned 
that the broker had been killed and that Storm had been found bending over his 
dead body with a revolver in his hand. He had walked to the girl's house, and 
had stood on the other side of the street looking across at the windows. He 
had heard a shot, had run toward the man who fell, saw it was the broker and 
the assassin escaping. He lifted up the body, picked up the revolver and had 
thus been found by the police. Everything pointed to his guilt. He was tried 


and condemned. Just as the Judge was about to read the sentence, a letter 
is handed to him. "He stole my wife and I followed him, found him, shot him. 
My task is done, and I am through with the world." By a greater jury than 
twelve who judged only as weak men can judge, Jack Storm is acquitted. 

THE WHEEL OF DESTINY (Dec. 8).— At the opening of the story Giles 
leaves home to go to a gambling house, the Major admonishing him to return 
early. Giles gambles and comes home drunk. Eph, who knows the habits of 
his young master, is waiting at the gate and helps bim into his cabin. The Ma- 
jor, still waiting, goes to the cabin and finds Giles drunk. He disowns him and 
drives him from the cabin, despite the entreaties of the old couple. Giles goes. 
At the close of the war the Major is impoverished, and his plantation is sold 
for debt. He takes leave of his old home and Eph and Chloe beer to go with 
him, but he declines their assistance. He has no home and is a widower. 

A number of years later Chloe and Eph are living in the North. Eph has 
a job as a street sweeper, and is working on the street when the ex-Major, his 
old master approaches. It is the day before Thanksgiving and Eph and Chloe 
have been saving money which they have deposited in a can or jar, which rests 
on the mantel. Eph quits his job on the street and takes the ex-Major to his 
home. Chloe has gone out to deliver a washing. Eph is shocked to see his old 
master in such a plight, so he takes the money saved for the Thanksgiving din- 
ner, goes out, and buys him a cheap suit of clothing. He returns to his job 
and is fired for quitting the work. He decides to obtain a turkey by hook or 
crook and goes to a typical turkey raffle, participated in by colored men, and 
spends his last nickel in an endeavor to win a turkey, but is unsuccessful. Ren- 
dered desperate, he resolves to steal a turkey and climbs a fence and approaches 
a chicken. His conscience smites him, and he turns away to be arrested by an 
officer who has followed him, attracted by his suspicious movements, and he is 
in despair. Arrested just as he has found his old master, renders him dumb 
with grief. The copper takes him to the police station, where Giles, his young 
master, is judge. Eph recognizes him and there is a happy reunion. Eph is in 
a quandary as to apprising Giles of the presence of his 'ather at his home. The 
copper explains that he caught Eph in the act of entering a hen-coop and Giles 
laughs. He enters the police station and soon explains matters to the officer 
in charge, to emerge with Eph a free man. He takes Eph in a motor car to his 
home, stopping on the way to buy trimmings for a Thanksgiving dinner. Eph 
remains silent and they go to the cabin where Giles finds Chloe, his old mammy 
and his father, and there is a happy and highly dramatic reunion, with the 
tables turned — the son rich and able to support his father, and the two faith- 
ful old servants. 


SHANGHAIED (Nov. 15). — Bob Bartlett, a wealthy young yachtsman, 
falls into evil ways and his sweetheart, Bessie Basset, the belle of the village, 
repudiates him as utterly unworthy, which gives comfort to his rival, Cal Cooper, 
a stalwart young sailorman. The health of the young woman is shattered 
by her experiences and her father takes her to sea with him. Bob, discovered, 
in the gutter, singularly enough, is shanghaied and taken on this ship. How he 
redeems himself, wins the respect of the girl and saves the ship from fire at 
sea, furnishes an interesting and thrilling story of the deep. — Emmett Campbell 
Hall, Author. 

A MAN AMONG MEN (Nov. 18). — Steve Wilson, a wealthy automobile 
manufacturer, allows himself one pet diversion — the ministry to the poor in 
social settlements and public playgrounds. Through this association he meets 
little Danny Smith, a six-year-old boy. Eventually, through the medium of 
Danny, he visits his home and meets his sister, Millie Smith, a girl just out of 
her teens, who has much charm and interests the wealthy man. His admira- 
tion has awakened into love when he learus from her that she is engaged to 
marry Bob Carson, a workman in his own shop, whose invention he thinks will 
make him wealthy. In reality this invention is worthless, but Steve Wilson 
buys it, thus sacrificing himself for the love of the girl who has never realized 
his admiration. — J. Edward Hungerford, Author. 

THE SAINT AND THE SIWASH (Nov. 19).— Joe Roberts, a fugitive from 
justice, bearing that stain that is irremovable, seeks the seclusion of the great 
North woods with his wife. They encounter a brutal squawman, Bill Weemer, 
who occupies his leisure in beating a Siwash girl. The wife intervenes and they 
take the girl with them. Then the sodden, drunken brute, intent on revenge 
and robbed of his prey, finds the haunting secret of Joe Roberts. In the interim 


the latter has been stricken by mountain fever and has been nursed back to 
health by his wife and the Indian girl. The brutal Weemer reappears upon the 
scene and demands money for keeping silence as to the whereabouts concerning 
the "man who is wanted," and proceeds to terrorize the Indian girl as of yore. 
The latter, however, has lost her fear and retaliates by shooting the bully. It 
turns out that Weemer is a noted horse thief, and that Joe Roberts was falsely 
accused of the crime, so all ends well with the sheriff in congratulation. — Wm. 
Slavens McNutt, Author. 

ATALA (Nov. 20). — The fact that a picture producer has closely followed 
the text and spirit of a world's masterpiece in Charteaubriand's classic, "Atala," 
with an added charm in the reproduction of the illustrations of Gustave Dore, 
one of the world's most imaginative artists, is sufficient to indicate this film 
is at once superb and distinctive. It would be impossible in the brief confines 
to give the full richness of this royal romance dealing with the fates of Atala 
and Chactas and the great warrior Outalissi who figure in the romantic days of 
St. Augustine ; but the threads of the story have been tightened up and its 
period made more tense and vivid in this picture play. The heart-broken mother 
of Atala swears her daughter to virginal vows and the romance that follows 
the fair but unfortunate orphan is stirring and beautiful beyond the realms of 
conventional fiction. — By Chateaubriand. 

THE FIRE FIGHTER'S LOVE (Nov. 21). — This story of troubled love and 
daring devotion is close to the seemingly lazy life that becomes exceedingly vital 
and throbbing as it emerges from the peaceful calm of the engine house to fight 
the flames and rescue lives. Husky Dan McCormick has become engaged to 
dainty Violet Dale, but she thinks better of the contract and asks to be released, 
bidding him farewell forever. Steve Lantry is more fortunate in Avinning her 
regard and the embittered McCormick proceeds to fight it out with him in 
primitive fashion. Both are members of the same fire engine company and are 
called to serve at a notable conflagration. This fire scene, it may be remarked, 
is one of the most realistic ever shewn in moving pictures and has many ex 
pioits of skill and daring new to this class of entertainment. When the cap- 
tain orders the men out to avoid the falling walls, Da.i fails to respond, and 
Steve, despite orders, returns to the building to rescue Dan in spite of himself. 
The men are trapped and are borne down into the falling ruins of the building. 
Happily they are not killed, as the entanglement of pipes and steel beams arch 
above them and they are not crushed to death. How they are rescued and re- 
conciled is another interesting and ingenious feature of this lurid and thrilling 
page from the life of the fire fighters. — From "The Test." 

MIKE'S BRAINSTORM (Nov. 22).— Mike Rosenberg, a ne'er-do-well, is 
broke, but still is undenied the pleasure of imagination. A circus comes to 
town and as he is without the price of admission, he retires disgusted to the 
solitude of the bar, where he dreams that he possess unlimited wealth. 

His first investment is a pet elephant that leads him into a vast variety of 
expensive difficulties. Tiring of the elephant pet, he swaps it for a bucking 
burro. This in turn proceeds to make it lively for poor Mike and finally bucks 
him out of dreamland back into the cold and unemotional world of today. — 
Berton Braley, Author. 

MISS AUBRY'S LOVE AFFAIR (Nov. 25)'.— The celebrated comedienne, 
Miss Aubry, is told by her physicians that her nerves are in a bad way and that 
she will have to seek the pine woods and rough it a bit. She prepares to a 
well known summer resort camp where, unconsciously, she upsets the well laid 
plans of a fond father whose son is engaged to his young ward. Upon Miss Au- 
bry's arrival in camp the headstrong son falls head over heels in love with the 
actress without reciprocity. The poor young girl and her guardian are made 
very unhappy over this unexpected defection in their plans. At the suggestion 
of his ward the father calls on the actress and begs her to restore his boy's af- 
fections to their legitimate bent. With a roguish twinkle in her eye she sug- 
gests to the father that he accomplish the desired result by "cutting out" his 
boy, himself. The father, not being too old to enjoy a joke consents to the plan 
with the result that he not only wins the boy's errant affections back for his 
ward but happily wins a wife for himself. — Hobart Bosworth, Author. 

ROPED IN (Nov. 26). — Jim Harris, weariny of the, rough and rowdy ways 
of cowboys, concludes to settle down, and replies to a matrimonial advertise- 
ment. The boys get wise and poke fun at him, but when the lady's picture ar- 
rives he becomes an immediate object of envy. He quickly sends her trans- 
portation and other funds and puts on all his fixings to meet her. When the 


fair Cynthia steps from the coach, instead of showing eighteen summers she is 
decrepit from fifty frosty winters. Her heart, however,* is VarmTnd pullln* 
and she makes love to .Tim in a way that abashes that rough rider The toy! 
disguise as highwaymen, and attempt his abduction, but Cvnthia thwarts their 
well-meant effort by securing his release at the point of a vevolvlr He s 
weary of her endearments, however, and when he finds the cook with a trap of 
live mice, he induces him to turn them loose in Cynthia's room. This so fright- 
ens and disgusts the ancient maiden that she decides to leave the ranch at once 
and forever joyously relinquishing all claims. — Will Aspinwall, Author. 

*,,nJ<5 E n m ?91 R EST CURE (Nov. 27).— Bill Grogan, a hapny hobo, having 
successfully eluded all sorts of allurements to go to work and having discharged 
himself from several easy jobs after numerous attempts to get painlessly in- 
jured, frightens a chauffeur into believing that he had been injured by a baby 
carriage. Eventually he reaches the limit of his restful ambition by getting 
a cot m a hospital. This is much to his liking and sufficiently diverting, for 
he almost founders in eating the delicacies prepared for other patients. His 
first rude jar comes when the visiting interne orders that he is not to be fed 
for twenty-four hours. Bill thereupon concludes that life in a hospital is not 
a snap and the doctor, finding the nature of the hobo, announces he proposes to 
operate on him. Thereupon Bill's troubles commence to thicken when he is 
strapped to an iron table and thoroughly renovated with dog soap applied with 
steel brushes. Eventually he flees from his tormentors, a sadder but a cleaner 
man. — Frank Giolma, Author. 

THE TRIANGLE (Nov. 28). — Young, inexperienced, and impressionable, 
and following the wishes of others, a good woman unfortunately marries a man 
that is equally void of honor and principal. Later she awakens to a realiza- 
tion that the man who has really loved her from her girlhood davs is, in turn, 
the man that she loves above all else. She finds out that her husband, hidden 
behind a mask of so-called social respectability, is in reality a drunkard, a pro- 
fligate and an associate of thieves. He later becomes a fugitive from justice. 
True, however, to her marriage vows, she smothers her own shame and is loyal 
to him until fate removes him from her life. Her faithfulness is eventually 're- 
warded and the first sweetheart ccmes into his own. — Colin Campbell, Author. 

FRIENDS IN SAN ROSARIO (Nov. 29). — Everybody in the world of fin- 
ance un: 7 stand3 the usual disturbance that ensues coincident with the coming 
of the uank examiner. Banking is a highly developed sort of housekeeping, and 
under, the new federal laws it behooves a banker to be sure that his house is 
well in order on the day that the examiner calls around to either approve or 
disapprove of the job. 

This comedy describes how one banker was enabled to help his friend, an- 
other banker, by detaining the examiner while his friend scraped around and 
collected enough cash to meet the necessary requirements of law. When the gov- 
ernment official arrives at the first bank, the friend across the street is notified 
by a signal. After the examination is completed Banker No. 1 detains the ex- 
aminer with several vivid stories of his early western life. In the meantime, 
the clerks have carried enough money over to the second band to carry Banker 
No. 2 over the impending examination. 

THE FIRE COP (Dec. 2). — Andy Brannigan was a good-natured policeman, 
large of frame, but limited in nerve. He has, however, been very successful in 
posing as a hero, and deceives ail but bis wife, who laughs at him when he tells 
her that he has been awarded a medal for bravery. Eventually he brings this 
token home in triumph, and she throws it on her red-hot stove and dares him 
to demonstrate his fireproof bravery in taking it off. He does this with a pair 
of pincers ; but the ribbon is burned away, and he is humiliated. Subsequently 
he becomes the true hero of a fire in a tenement and saves a number of lives. 
Having saved four lives, be finally drops from the roof of the flaming building 
and is caught in the safety-net held by the firemen in the street below. He 
is rushed off to the hospital, and his wife is informed of the perilous condition 
of her intrepid husband. She then realizes that he is a braver man than she 
dreamed of. — Talbot Mundy, Author. 

THE MANTLE OF RED EVANS (Dec. 3). — May Evans, an orphan girl, is 
advised by her uncle to leave a lonely ranch where she has been living, come to 
the settlement and take charge of a hotel. She concludes to take advantage of 
the offer and immediately demonstrates her fitness lor the position, making the 
hotel one of the most popular in that section. Bob Evans, a young man from 
the East, who has gone West to pick up his fortune, happens to meet the young 
woman as she is going to the hotel. This begins an acquaintanceship, which 
ripens into affection on tbe part of both, he rescuing her from a very perilous 
situation, for which she feels duly grateful. 


Bob Evans comes into hard luck, needs food and drink. He tries to worfe 
his face on the flinty hearted barkeeper, but as that does not work he thinks 
of a famous gun man named Red Evans and writes his name, passing it to the 
barkeeper, who immediately gives him all the food and drink he needs. He reg- 
isters on the hotel book : Bob Evans, still being out of funds and hoping to per- 
petuate his popularity. When May sees this name she freezes up and orders 
him out of the house. Another notorious character turns up with the same 
name, but the terror is minimized when the nervy woman declares that it was 
the name of her dead father. She subsequently forgives Bob and concludes to 
take his name for life. — Hugh Poindexter, Author. 

WHEN HELEN WAS ELECTED (Dec. 4). — Beacher Summers is very hap- 
pily married to Helen. Beacher's ambition is political and he succeeds in win- 
ning the Progressive party's nomination for Mayor. Helen's aunt, Frances, is a 
violent advocate of women's rights. She pulls her husband, Uncle Eben, around 
by the nose. Aunt Frances is disgusted with Helen's contentment with domes- 
tic affairs and rinally prevails upon her to accept the nomination for mayor on 
the women's rights ticket. Thus she becomes a rival of her husband in the poli- 
tical field. Poor Helen knows nothing and cares less about politics and her cam- 
paign managers lead her into many ridiculous predicaments. Finally Election 
Day dawns and wanes, and when the ballots have been counted it is discovered 
that Helen has won the election. This is the last straw for the worn out little 
woman and she rushes home in an attempt to thrust the office off on her hus- 
band. He protests that he cannot receive the gift of office from her, but the 
dilemma is finally overcome when it is discovered that Helen is not yet of legal 


A FREIGHT TRAIN DRAMA (Dec. 5). — Bill Mogroity, an ex-railroad em- 
ployee, rebels at his wife's upbraidings and leaves bis humble home to follow 
the life of a hobo. Mrs. Mogroity and her small daughter, Rosy, left alone, make 
a pitiful attempt to eke out a living by taking iu washing. 

Bill's wanderings throw him into the company of other hobos and one day 
he chances to overhear some of them plotting to wreck and rob the fast ex- 
press. His tramp life has pretty well disgusted him and when he realizes what 
his companions are about to do he suddenly resolves to save the train. He 
sneaks away from the others and manages to ilag the train and capture the 
would-be wreckers. The express train conductor persuades Bill to accompany 
him to the city. 

In the meantime Rosy, the child, has been sent to gather firewood in the 
railroad yard. Seeing some shavings in an open box car, she climbs in. She is 
no sooner in the car than the train starts and Rosy, thoroughly frightened, is 
earried away. Bill is presented to the road superintendent, and for bis bravery 
is given a substantial sum of money and a pass for himself. As they are pass- 
ing out of the railroad yard their attention is suddenly arrested by the sight of 
a child, clinging to the open door of the swiftly moving freight train. The su- 
perintendent flags the train and when the child is rescued, Bill discovers that 
she is none other than his Rosy. That night there is a happy family reunion 
in the Mogroity home. 


JOHN COLTER'S ESCAPE (Dec. 6). — John Colter, a backwoodsman of 
the Northwestern coast, earned a reputation for his speed as a runner and his 
resourcefulness in face of danger. Once when trapping he was captured by a 
marauding band of Black Feet, who gave him a chance for his life to run the 
gauntlet in a rather singular way. He was set loose aid the Indians were or- 
dered to pursue him until he was worn down, giving opportunity to prolong tor- 
ture at their pleasure. The crafty Colter led them such a swift pace that when 
the strongest runner was so far ahead that his fellowmen were out of sight, he 
turned, tripped the Indian, and finished him with his own spear. Then he took 
to the water and by hiding like a beaver beneath driftwood raft, escaped. 

A QUESTION OF HAIR (Dec. 6). — Baldy is refused by Miss Boggs, a hair 
demonstrator, who favors hair-rich Harry. Subsequently he discovers that both 
Miss Boggs and Harry are well wigged. He gets Harry's goat or rather his wig, 
which ends one romance and begins another. — J. Edward Hungerford, Author. 

THE VINTAGE OF FATE (Dec. 9). — Fietro, a handsome young Italian, 
in love with Maria, the village magnate's daughter, refused by the father, after 
swearing eternal love to her, with her rosary about his neck, goes to America 
to win fortune that shall win her. Eventually he makes a great success as a 
grape grower in California, and in rescuing a lovely young lady from a dread- 
ful death, falls in love with her, discards Maria's rosary and appears to con- 
tinue well favored by fortune. 


The faitkful and overfond Maria takes her scanty savings and, guided by 
Pietro's last letter to her, goes to America, and reaches her destination in Cali- 
fornia on the evening of Pietro's wedding fiesta. At first she decides to kill 
him, but resolves to humiliate him by tossing on the table in front of him the 
token be gave her in tbe old days in Italy. Death seems the only relief for her 
despair, and it touches her with a merciful finger. — Lannier Bartlett, Author. 

THE RANGER AND HIS HORSE (Dec. 10).— A story dealing with a band 
of outlaws that are holding the sheriff's niece a prisoner to insure their own 
safety. The sheriff sends for the girl's sweetheart, a Texas ranger, to come on 
and help him find her. The ranger first creates for himself a reputation as a 
bandit, and when he arrives is welcomed to the outlaw camp as one of their 
own kind. He locates the girl, and through a bit of strategy, manages to make 
the outlaw chief a prisoner. With the aid of his horse, he then sets about get- 
ting the girl out of her prison. The outlaw camp is so. situated that to enter 
by force is an impossibility. The ranger, however, goes to the top of an over- 
hanging cliff, makes his rope fast to the saddle, and lowers himself into the 
gulch. By taking big chances he gets the girl out, and the horse, as he feels 
the tugging at the rope, pulls them to the top in safety. They are pursued by 
the outlaws, and are hard pressed, but the ranger will not give up his pris- 
oner. He sends the girl after assistance, and holds the band off until the posse 
arrive. Then he turns the chief over to the sheriff, goes to the girl and claims 
his reward. — William Duncan, Author. 

THE GIRL OF THE MOUNTAINS (Dec. 11). — Tess Sutton, the daugh- 
ter of a miner, who is likewise a miser, dutifully dwells with her father by a 
lonely mountain farm, where his little mine and flume are located. She is 
loved by Hank, an uncouth mountaineer, in a primitive way ; but her thought 
centers about a young doctor in the far-away settlement. He saves her from 
some embarrassment by calling at her cabin when Hank is an unwelcome visi- 
tor, and incurs the everlasting enmity of that bellicose individual. He tries to 
waylay and assassinate his rival, but the girl shows him the other way at the 
pistol point. The sudden death of her father and the discovery of Hank, al- 
lows him to lead a drunken lynching party after the doctor. Again the bravery 
and resourcefulness of the mountain lass comes into play and they escape by 
the perilous way of the timber flume. — Lanier Bartlett, Author. 

THE GOD OF GOLD (Dec. 12). — Five young men, hopeful and glorying in 
their strength, began buckling on the armor of the work-a-day world. The ar- 
tist is for creative things ; the doctor is aflame for scieuce ; the soldier observes 
the glories of the conquest; the hardy, wholesome farmer observes the advan- 
tages of useful life in supplying the world with substance; but, the financier 
tells how he will surpass them all in the accumulation of gold. With this en- 
grossing incentive the picture follows his feverish ambition as he forgets his 
wife and family and soils the escutcheon of an honored name, with all joy in 
life subordinate to mere groveling after gold. He loses family and friends and 
grows more mean and miserly, until he finds himself in age, utterly alone, save 
for the valet he has schooled in his own mould. As he dreams alone by his fire 
he sees the group of early friends, and sees their success in the wider things of 
life It so moves his conscience that he flings into the fire his only friend, 
monev, and falls back dead. Then his miserly valet rushes m and wailing, 
snatches the charred remnants of a wasted life from the flames.— Gordon V. 
May, Author. 

A NEAR-SIGHTED CUPID (Dec. 13).— Dr. Eli Brown who is as eminently 
scientific as he is visually near-sighted, on his way to the lecture, collides with 
Miss Mm Simms, a busy shopper, and they exchange valises in the mix-up. 
Wn thTuoctor opens up his anatomical wonders in the class-room it causes 
vociferous merriment. When he begins to draw out female frippery instead of 
skulls and bones In contrast Miss Simms is horrified into hysterics when she 
finds a Sag of bonesfmute revealers of some terrible tragedy. Mutual explana. 
tions lead to mutual regard, and the near-sighted scientist gets a true insight 
into love. — E. F. Fielding, Author. 

OPITSAH (Dec. 16).— A simple story of Indian devotion from the lonely 
land of the great southwest, with a natural heart throb, which is very vital and 
absorbing in S appeal. Opitsah (the sweetheart), a charming Indian maiden, 
whHe befriending the only white man, McGuire, who ha3 ever been civil to her, 
Ttons Mm from killing Jervis, her brutal assailant, and eventually saves i him 
from a Whin" She loves McGuire, and lives with him, and keeps the secret 
of his mme-but he forgets all her devotion and leaves her to spend his for- 
tune He ^urns, with his mother, to the place where he struck it rich, and 


there finds the faithful Opitsah and a little stranger. His mother urges an hon- 
orable marriage. He complies and they are happy ever after. — Helen Merritt, 


A COMEDY OF ERRORS (Nov. 20). — Mr. Greeneyes, who is very much in 
love with his wife, gives her an extra kiss on the morning of his birthday. When 
Greeneyes walks down the street she throws kisses at him from tbe window, 
and Billy, who lives in the house across the street, thinks that these kisses are 
for him. When she drops a book to the street, Billy thinks that is an invita- 
tion. He accepts it with agility — but learns from Mrs. Greeneyes that the 
kisses were for her husband — a six-footer with big muscles. When Billy hears 
this he goes on the jump — forgetting his umbrella. 

The husband later returns and sees the umbrella. The wife explains that 
the umbrella is a birthday gift. Satisfied, he leaves. Later Billy returns for 
his umbrella, and while in the house Greeneyes comes back. Wifey hides Billy 
in a closet, where he almost suffocates, while she explains with "fibs" about 
the gloves hubby finds on the table. A series of comic incidents follow here 
iii rapid succession, until Billy and hubby confront each other, while wifey ex- 
plains that Billy is the tailor — which results in Billy losing his fine fur coat. 
All these events give Greeneyes sufficient cause to be jealous, which culminates 
la a big scene, where hubby upsets everything in the house in search of Billy. 
Billy takes advantage of the turmoil and makes, off with his belongings, and 
when later hubby asks for his birthday presents, wifey answers : "Birthday 
presents ! Poor hubby ; you've had an attack of delirium ; there are no presents, 
but I'll get you some." 

THE POWER OP MONEY (Nov. 22). — The story concerns a broker who 
is in love with a nice little girl. He has a rival, who is also a broker, plans to 
"break" the man who is in his way — knowing that the girl will not marry a 
poor man. Through some of his friends the rial vis able to get his opponent to 
buy certain mining stocks. The plans of his rival are successful, and the broker 
is ruined. 

The broker in his opuleut days buys, in a jest, a Louisiana lottery ticket. 
However, he does not keep it very long. In paying for flowers one day he gives 
the lottery ticket to the flower girl. The ticket wins the capital prize, and the 
girl gets the money. She, however, traces the man who gave her the ticket, and 
divides the prize with him. The money comes at an opportune moment, for 
with it the broker is able to redeem his losses and make a little besides, much 
to the chagrin of his rival. His old sweetheart, who had left him when he lost 
his money, is now willing to receive his attentions, but the broker does not 
think much of "sunny day" friends. He is soon able to win the love of the 
flower girl. 

THE PARALYTIC (Nov. 27). — The story revolves about the jealous plots 
of Stephen Swenson, a man with little or no moral sense. He is jealous of 
young Henry George, who is betrothed to Blanche, the daughter of the paralytic. 
Swenson hires two thugs to "do up" his rival. The thugs drop George down 
a well, in the sight of the paralyzed man, who is powerless to interfere. Know- 
ing that the paralytic cannot divulge the crime, Swenson comes back to make 
love to the paralytic's daughter. What follows is the pantomimic agony of the 
paralyzed man in his mute attempt to disclose the fact that Swenson is a mur- 

JENKINS-PERKINS WAR (Nov. 29).— Sallie Jenkins and Billie Perkins 
are engaged to be married. Their fathers go to a political meeting. Old man 
Perkins is a rank Roosevelt man, and old man Jenkins is a Wilsonite. They 
have a fierce quarrel at the meeting. On their return they find their children 
making love and separate them. Billie sends a note to his sweetheart, which 
asks her to meet him in his auto, and they would go to town and get married. 
Each one leaves a note to their fathers, telling them what they intended to do. 
The respective parents discover the notes and drive after them. There is an 
explosion in the automobile, which gives the parents an opportunity to catch up 
with them. The parents take their children home. 

At early dawn Billy, disconsolate, decides to commit suicide and throw him- 
self into the river. He leaves a note to his father to this effect, and, tearing 
up the sheets of the bed, makes a rope of them and exits by the window. Sal- 
lie, also very disconsolate, decides to commit suicide at the same place, and leaves 


a note to her father, telling him of her intention, and also makes a rope of the 
sheets of the bed and descends from the window. 

Billie arrives at the boathouse. On the dock are a number of boats piled 
one on top of another, so that one cannot see from one side to the other. Billy 
arrives on one side, looks at the water, gets cold feet and sits down to think, 
drawing his hat down. As he does so, Sallie arrives on the other side of the 

boat, throws her gloves and pocket-book on the pier, looks at the water gets 

cold feet and decides to wait. Those moments are fatal, for it gives the old 
people a chance to catch up and spoils the dual suicide, but Jenkins and Per- 
kins make up and the merry Avar is called off. 

THE RAFFLE (Dec. 4). — Dela Hart and her husband, who are in danger 
of becoming hopelessly estranged, find a new interest in each other through 
the medium of a lottery ticket and a set of furs. Dela has an ardent admirer 
who wishes to present her with the furs. He secures a bogus lottery ticket 
and gives it to her. The furs are to be the result of the winning number on 
the ticket. All goes as expected. Dela gives the ticket to her husband and asks 
him to bring home whatever she has won. Unexpected complications result 
when Mr. Hart presents the furs to his pretty stenographer and brings home a 
book to his wife as the result of her winning. However, all ends well, and 
Dela and her husband really begin to become acquainted with each other. 

THE FACE AT THE WINDOW (Dec. 6). — Nina Auvray's childhood and 
youth have been lonely — spent with an eccentric and miserly old uncle. Th© 
house they occupy is an old-time dilapidated mansion. Old Auvray dies sud- 
denly. No will can be found. Nin? is compelled to advertise the old home. A 
fine fellow buys the place, while Nina engages board in the village. 

Nina pines for the old house. At times she creeps up the hill and tear- 
fully gazes at the closed windows and doors. Once, looking wearily about, she 
enters the house and goes through the rooms. Finally, overcome, she throws 
herself on the sofa and has a cry. It is here the new tenant finds her. Thus 
their acquaintance starts. Young Grey immediately sets about the repair of 
the old home and grounds. Two or three hands about the place he retains. One 
fellow, surly, and a hard driaker, Grey learns to distrust. After repeated and 
kind warnings regarding drunkenness, Lem Casey is discharged. He leaves 
cursing Grey. Nina one day is roaming through the woods, when she overhears 
Casey and a pal cursing and talking. Casey has planned to shoot Grey that 
night, and is gloating over the fact that Grey always sit by his desk, writing, 
within direct range of the south window. Nina, terrified, runs straight to her 
old home, waits for Grey to return, and in an ecstacy of terror and tears tells 
him all she has heard. Grey telephones for a couple of officers. Together they 
fix up a dummy at Grey's desk. Grey and the men hide in the thicket. Dark- 
ness falls. Lem Casey approaches. He shoots. .Casey turns to flee, but is 
knocked down by the man he supposed he had murdered. The next day, in lo- 
cating the bullet, a secret panel is discovered, containing the lost will. Nina is 
a rich woman, and all ends happily. 

THE HATER OF WOMEN (Dec. 11). — Bob Burton, a confirmed woman- 
hater, meets his chum Harry. On their way from New York Harry asks him 
to come to his home and introduces him to his sister. She teases the woman- 
hater, pins a rose in his buttonhole and gets him to sit down on a sofa beside 
her. Harry says joshingly, "You are not such a woman-hater after all." 

Harry arrives at the club and tells his friends what a joke he has played 
on Bob. Thinking of a scheme, he makes a newspaper ad. saying that Bob 
wants a wife. Harry inserts the ad. in the newspaper and two of his chums 
go to Bob's house to watch this out to the end. 

The first arrival in answer to the ad. is an old maid. Harry directs her 
to the bouse, while he and his friends arrange a board so that they can look 
into the window and watch the proceedings. Bob Burton is very much sur- 
prised when the old maid shows him the ad. in the newspaper. She tries to 
make him marry her but he protests. The old maid goes out and discovers the 
boys looking in the window, hits one of them with an umbrella, and they all 
fail over the bench. 

The second arrival is a tough girl who gets into a wrangle with Bob, and 
he throws her out of the window, and she falls on top of the boys who are 
seated on the plank. She has her scraps with them and exits. 

The third arrival is a very buxom middle-aged lady, who on refusal of Bob 
to marry her, exits angrily, discovers Harry and chum outside and gives Har- 
ry a thrashing. 


The fourth arrival is a young eccentric girl, who has sworn that she will 
never marray a man unless she falls in love with him at sight. Bob Burton 
has read this eccentric remark in the paper, and has seen the picture, so instead 
of refusing her he proposes and is accepted much to the chagrin of the hoys out- 
side. He exits from the house with the young lady and discovers the boys in 
the act of sneaking away. Finally he turns the tables on them. He sends Harry 
and Boh a note inviting them to his wedding.- 

THE GIRL IN THE ARMCHAIR (Dec. 13). — Frank Watson was spending 
a month in New York when one day he receives a letter from his father re- 
questing him to come home and also that a surprise awaits him on his return. 
This aroused Frank's curiosity, so immediately he made preparations - to leave 
at once. On arriving home he went at once to the drawing room and there 
to his surprise he saw a very attractive girl sitting by the fire-place seeming to 
be perfectly at home with her surroundings. Frank coughs. The girl turns 
around and then nods to him but leaves the room at once. Just then his moth- 
er and father come in and greet him. At once Frank begins to question them 
about the girl. For an answer Frank's father walks to the desk and brings 
Frank a letter. There he learns that this girl is the daughter of his father's 
best friend who has just died and has made his father guardian. The girl's 
name is Peggy and she has been left a large fortune. Frank does not approve 
of this and "begins to offer his objections. At the same time Peggy is seen com- 
ing down the stairs at the back of the room and accidently overhears what 
Frank is saying. She then comes into the room and they are introduced. 

Six months later we find Frank in bad company. He has started gambling 
and has hard times settling all his debts. At present he owes $500 to a very 
miserly Jew who has Frank's promissory note to pay in a week's time. Poor 
Frank is almost a nervous wreck, for he has no means by which he can lift 
this debt. The day has come and we now see Frank nervously awaiting the 
Jew's arrival. The Jew is ushered in and at once starts business. He then 
learns that Frank is unable to pay and then swears that he will go to Frank's 
father for payment. Frank pleads not to tell his father. The Jew looks around 
the room in order to find some plan with which to force Frank to pay. Sud- 
denly he notices a small safe in the desk marked EMERGENCY SAFE. He calls 
Frank's attention to it. After much arguing the Jew has persuaded Frank to 
get his payment from this safe with the hope of winning it hack and then re- 
place the money before the father finds it out. Frank takes the money, gets a 
receipt from the Jew and orders him out. Frank leaves the room at once. Sud- 
denly we see Peggy getting up out of the large chair by the fire-place. She hag 
accidently overheard all that has passed between them without their knowl- 
edge and she realizes Frank's position at once. She decides to help Frank out 
of his trouble and starts to think of a plan. Later we see her coming into the 
drawing room all ready for a journey, carrying a .suitcase in her hand. She 
puts a letter on the table for Frank's father and then leaves the house. 

The girl makes a splendid sacrifice to save Frank and later, in an impres- 
sive scene Frank admits his guilt and asks for forgiveness of the girl he has 
grown to love. 


THE LADY LEONE (2 reels) (Nov. 15).— Lady Leone Mervyn, an orphaned 
heiress, is much sought after by her outlaw cousin, Sir Robert Huntley, for 
his son, Hal. In order to secure her vast estates he insists that she and Hal 
get married, but Lady Leone will not accept any such proposal. Daring a raid 
a peasant of the village, John Wilde, is killed in pure wantonness by Hal Hunt- 
ley, and John's son, Jack, swears to be avenged for the murder. Jack, recon- 
noitering the Huntley fortress, falls into a glen, where he is found unconscious 
by Lady Leone and Dame Margery, the Huntley housekeeper. A mutual ad- 
miration springs up between Lady Leone and Jack. They are telling each other 
their stories of woe when they are interrupted by Dame Margery, who announces 
the approach of the Huntleys. Jack conceals himself, and later, after a hard 
fight with the sentries, escapes from the glen. A short while after Dame Mar- 
gery brings a letter to Jack from Lady Leone, telling him that Sir_ Robert is 
dying and he wants her to marry his son, Hal. Jack goes to her aid, and by 
means of a clever subterfuge he gets inside the Huntley castle, arriving just in 
time to interrupt the ceremony. After a desperate fight with the retainers of 
the Huntleys, in which Jack is wounded, he succeeds in rescuing Lady Leone- 
and bringing her safely home. 


Some weeks later Lady Leone, having appealed to the King for protection, 
is conducted to London by the Royal Commissioners, leaving Jack heart-broken. 
He follows her to London and endeavors to obtain admission into the royal 
chapel. As he is being driven away by one of the guards the King and Quf>en, 
accompanied by the entire court, are about to enter the chapel. Leone is one of 
the ladies-in-waiting to the Queen. She sees Jack and presents him to their 
majesties. The King, having heard of Jack's prowess in rescuing Leone, knights 
him. The following day Jack and Leone have a meeting in the King's garden, 
where he tells of his love for her. The King and Queen at this moment appear, 
and the King shows his displeasure at having a simple knight marry the weal- 
thy ward of the Queen, but through the intercession of the Queen the roval 
consent is obtained. Leone and Jack, accompanied by their retinue, start for 
her estates to be married. On trie - way they are attacked by Hal Huntley. 
After a hard fight Jack succeeds in routing the outlaws and driving Hal Hunt- 
ley to the edge of a precipice to death. Then Leone and Jack repair to her 
home, where they are married. 

WAS MABEL CURED? (Nov. 22). — Mabel Jones returns home from board- 
ing-school, filled with the idea that she is a born novelist and with a partially 
written manuscript upon a sociological subject, in which the hero is a burglar. 
Mabel's father is a sergeant of police and having heard in his past experience 
about all the dealings with burglars he cares for, he turns a deaf ear to her 
pleadings. Mabel persists in her determination and the sergeant is about to 
grow real angry when he sees a chance to cure her of her mad infatuation for 
under-world subjects. Among the sergeant's acquaintances is a young novelist 
named Jefferson Lang, who is also writing a sociological novel and in which 
the heroine is a sneak thief. 

By clever planning and aided by the rest of the police boys, Mabel and Jeff 
are brought together, he believing her to be "Shifty Sadie," the sneak thief, and 
she knowing him as "Baffles," the gentleman burglar. Then follows a game of 
cross purposes and misunderstandings between the young couple, which cul- 
minates in them both being arrested by a strange policeman. Unfortunately for 
the sergeant, his "fine station hand" in the matter is discovered by the pair 
at the eleventh hour and through the kindly aid of a prison chaplain they turn 
the tables on the sergeant and the station house in general by getting married. 

IT HAPPENED THUS (Nov. 29). — The bank in which John Allen & Co. 
have their account deposited fails, and the company is compelled to shut down 
their factory. Allen manages to keep his anguish of mind from his sweetheart, 
Madge Dale, who persuades him to accompany her and her mother to their 
home in a suburban town, where Madge is preparing to give him a party that 
night. Their conversation is overheard by "Crafty Jim," a professional bur- 
glar, and he determines to rob Allen's house. 

While the partv is in progress Allen excuses himself and goes to his home, 
only to find "Crafty Jim" there. Not desiring to have anything to do with him, 
Allen tosses Jim his pocketbook and orders him to lea?e. "Crafty Jim" goes, 
but in looking through the window sees that Allen is about to drink some poison. 
Jim tries to make Allen see things in a different light, but Allen will not lis- 
ten, and a terrible struggle ensues, in which "Crafty Jim" is the winner. He 
ties Allen to a chair and brings Madge to him. Madge learns of Aliens predica- 
ment and, being a wealthy girl, offers him some of her money, which starts 
business going again for him. Later Allen and Madge do a good turn to Crafty 
Jim" by gaining his freedom from jail and starting him on the right path. 


THE MODEL FOR ST. JOHN (Nov. 16).— The commission to paint the 
picture of St John for one of the great Cathedrals is awarded to Monsieur 
Werner. The father recognizes in his son the attributes for the painting and 
soon the picture is completed. 

Werner's son dissipates his time, money and substance in riotous living. 
Many years later, Artist Werner gets an order to paint the worst type of Sa- 
tanic depravity. He seeks for his model among the poor and outcast, until 
one day he comes across the semblance of a man with all the characteristics 
of beastialitv and the brand of sin. 

The last touches put upon the painting, the artist withdraws from the 
room. The poor sot, left alone, shuffles toward the canvas looks at the por- 
trayal of his features and is struck with horror The artist returns and tries 
to quiet his model. At this moment, his eyes light upon a copy of the painting 

. 84 

of St. John, for which he sat years ago. Beating his breast in terror, he cries, 
"I posed for that picture of St. John, the Divine !" In his delirium, the 
wretched sot falls dead. As the hand of the grim messenger smoothes the pal- 
lid features, the artist recognizes the semblance of his child. — Mrs. Breuil, 

THE UNEXPECTED HONEYMOON (Nov. 18).— Newly married Thomas 
and Mary MacGregor attend the village fair on their honeymoon. Thomas in 
his kilties with his bagpipes slung across his shoulder proudly escorts his blush- 
ing bride about the grounds from booth to booth. 

The Balloon Ascension is advertised for the afternoon. Everything Is in 
readiness and Mary, with a woman's curiosity, induces Thomas to enter the 
basket of the balloon. She enjoys the novelty and thinks she will have some- 
thing to tell her neighbors. She does, and more too ; for some mischievous boys 
cut the ropes holding the balloon and it rises, taking the pair on a honeymoon 
trip, entirely unexpected. They travel fast and long until the balloon collapses 
upon a desert island, among a tribe of cannibals who think the couple are gods 
descended from the skies. Thomas recognizes this and acts the part. He plays 
his bag-pipes and they all dance right merrily. 

He deposes the king and r:tns things with a high hand. The natives, how- 
ever, as they become better acquainted with Thomas and Mary, realize that they 
are only human beiugs like themselves. They decide to put an end to their 
reign and begin preparations for then execution and cooking. The night be- 
fore the day they are to be put to death, Thomas and Mary escape to the sea- 
shore where they -bail a passing vessel which lands a boat loaded with men, who 
rescue the terrified couple, for they are almost within the grasp of the hungry 
cannibals, in hot pursuit. — Rose Tapley, Authoress. 

ROMANCE OF A RICKSHAW (Nov. 10).— Mabel, the beautiful daughter 
of General Lewis, has considerable variety of her love affairs when she finds 
herself loved by Lieutenant Graham, of her father's staff, and very much sought 
after by a rich Indian Rajah, whom she meets at a garden party. The Rajah 
proposes, but is refused. He abducts her. Dennis, Graham's servant, meets the 
abductors and picks up Mabel's locket, which she drops. He hastens to the Lieu- 
tenant and tells him what he saw. 

Graham, with Dennis, and another soldier, determine to rescue Mabel from 
the hands of the Rajah. They go to bis palace, find the rickshaw in which she 
was abducted and some Hindoo raiment. They disguise themselves ; Dennis 
making up as a Hindoo Medicine Doctor. They gain entrance to the Rajah's 
presence. Dennis, with incantations and salutations, demands the presence of 
the foreign maiden whom they have in their midst. When Mabel appears, Lieu- 
tenant Graham draws a brace of revolvers from the folds of bis robe and, tak- 
ing the Rajah and his attendants unawares, they hurry from the room, place 
Mabel in the rickshaw which they had left at the door and are far on their way 
to the Military Post before the astonished Rajah can follow in pursuit. Safely 
reaching General Lewis's headquarters, Mabel is placed in her father's arms. 
The General acknowledges Graham's courage and gladly consents to his and 
Mabel's marriage. — W. L. Tremayne, Author. 

TIMID MAY (Nov. 20). — May arrives at the Bullshed Ranch. She Is so 
timid and shy that she is almost frightened to death by the cowboys' revolvers 
and rough appearance. 

While all the other boy? consider her a joke, Steve, a good-natured fellow, 
thinks she is just about right. Shortly after her arrival, there is a reward of- 
fered for the capture of a desperado. The sheriff, her uncle, and his men start 
in pursuit. Steve accidentally happens to get in his way, and both he and the 
desperado are so surprised they separate in opposite directions. May sees the 
desperado approaching her. The bad man appeals to her for refuge. She tells 
him to go in the barn, which is also used as a jail by the sheriff. She locks 
him in and when the sheriff and his men return, they find their man in jail, 
thanks to Timid May. 

Steve, scared to death, arrives on the scene before the posse, and when 
they arrive takes part of the credit. May is so bashful and so overcome by his 
assumed heroism, she falls into his arms and throws darts of love into his soul. 
— Royal A. Baker, Author. 

• DARKTOWN DUEL (Nov. 20). — "She sho' is some belle," and no wonder 
she provokes a quarrel between Eph Johnson and Ra&tus Simpson, who are rivals 
for her hand. "Since we cannot fight with weapons, I challenge you to a wa- 
termelon duel, the winner takes the lady," says Rastus to Eph. The contest is 
arranged, and the duel begins. They certainly punish the watermelons. 


+ n >,• e i a Sf ? Question is present. Simpson wins and she makes her decision 
to him in the following note. "Dear Mr. Simpson : I shall accept your rival 
I admire your courage, but I never could support a man that eats like vou' 
Maria Jones. 

SIV O'CLOCK (Nov. 21).— On the verge of financial runin, Mr. Cameron 
has got to raise a large sum of money. His partner promises to raise it by 
six o clock that evening and telephone him as soon as he has secured it Jim- 
my Cameron, his little boy, has turned the hands of the clock half an hour- 
ahead, so that his music lesson may be shortened by that much time After 
a terrible ordeal of suspense, Mr. Cameron calmly prepares for suicide in case 
of failure. At 5 :30 his partner closes the deal for the money and rushes to 
telephone Cameron. A few minutes before this, as the clock's hands point to 
two minutes to six, Jimmy remembers his indolent deed and turns the hands 
of the clock back half an hour, to the right time. This is the only thin°- that 
saves his father's life. 

When Mr. Cameron hears the telephone, he is stricken with heart-failure, 
brought on by his anxiety and overwrought nerves. His partner not being able 
to reach Cameron by telephone, hastily arrives at his home and finds him un- 
conscious. With the assistance of a physician, he is revived and his partner 
tells him of his success in securing the necessary amount to avoid the crisis. 

HOW MR. BULLINGTON RAN THE HOUSE (Nov. 22).— Mr. Bulllng- 
ton has a great idea of his ability to "run" things. He is always finding fault 
with his young wife for the way things are managed. One morning at break- 
fast things not being properly cooked, he tells her to discharge the Irish cook, 
Delia. She does so but Delia's anger is so terrible she flies before her. Bulling- 
ton goes down and discharges Delia himself. Then to show his wife how easy 
it is to manage things, he telephones an employment office. They tell him 
they are sending him a cook at once. In the meantime, he tries to get the house- 
maid to help with the cooking, but she is indignant and gives notice. He ex- 
pects the new cook up long before dinner, but at one o'clock no cook. So he 
turns to and does the cooking himself, with the result that the soup is un- 
tasteable and the meat half raw. The new cook, a Swede, turns up at 4. She 
has walked the whole way from the city to Harlem. She proves utterly -incom- 
petent, cannot understand the kitchen range and messes up the floor, the pots 
and pans and herself, finally saying she does not understand the rannge, leaves. 

The ext morning the employment office telephones they have an English 
woman with three children, a good cook, but she insists on taking her family 
with her. In desperation, Bullington consents. She arrives with her offspring, 
three in number and takes possession. She sets the children to work to clean 
things up and sends the Bullingtons sternly out of the kitchen. That night, 
they have a delicious dinner, but they tremble beneath the eye of 'Arriet and 
feel themselves her slaves forever. — W. L. Tremayne, Author. 

WILD PAT (Nov. 23). — Neglectful of his little home and family, Pat re- 
sorts to evil companions at the town tavern. The priest of the village gives 
bim a strong lecture. On the priest's advice, he goes to America, leaving a 
solemn promise with Mary that he will never touch liquor again. He finds em- 
ployment as a stoker in the boiler room of a large factory. One day he re- 
ceives a letter from Mary in which she tells him that a little girl has arrived 
to bless their union. Pat is delighted, and while sitting in the engine room 
dreaming of home, the men in the boiler room, who have been drinking, pile 
too much coal in the furnaces, and an explosion is imminent. They flee from 
the room. Pat, seeing the escaping steam, hastens below, enters the boiler 
room, turns the eatery valve and avoids disastrous explosion. In this act of 
heroism he is so badly scalded he dies in the arms of his sympathetic co-work- 
ers, after taking Mary's letter from the bosom of his shirt and kissing it in 
fond remembrance of her. The good priest breaks the news to his family- 
Arthur Bentley, Author. 

OMENS OF THE MESA (Nov. 25).— Texas Reilly, the outlaw, does not 
hesitate to kill, but when the flying buzzard casts its shadow across his patn- 
wav he is filled with fear. The chief of the rangers is hot upon his trail. Reil- 
5 has no £e for his wife, but loves his little daughter The outlaw secretes 
his illgotten gains in a -hide-out" in the hills °7 erl ° . km l^;^ O ots him 
Fearing capture, he sneaks upon the officer as he is riding by a,^/£° ot h s ig h ?d 
The wounded man succeeds in reaching his cabin, where he = is aided by hi .old 
helper, who, after he makes him comfortable, goes to .Mr -Reilly for asswtanc* 
During his absence, the desperado makes up his mind that .his ' ^""ath It a 
trotter Tout of the way He crawls over to his hut and places underneatn ,i & 
farge can of powder with a long fuse, which he ignites, makes his way hack to 

Ills "hide-out," where he watches with fiendish delight for the expected explo- 

Mrs. Reilly, with her little girl, hastens to the aid of the wounded friend. 
Her husband sees them enter the cabin and knows that the only thing in the 
world be loves is in that cabin about to be blown to eternity. Seized with a 
paroxysm of remorse and despair, he shoots himself dead. 

While his wife is attending her suffering friend, her little girl steps out- 
side the cabin and sees the smoking fuse. She tells her mother. She lifts the 
stricken man from his cot and leads him and her child to a small "dug-out" or 
cyclone cellar, and closing the doors after them, they barely escape the terrible 
explosion. Emerging from their hiding-place, they behold the complete devasta- 
tion before them, and thank the good God for their deliverance. 

IN THE FLAT ABOVE (Nov. 26). — Tom Talbot, a bachelor, has an apart- 
ment just above pretty little Priscilla Putnam, who gives singing lessons. Tom 
gives a bachelor's supper to some old friends. After feasting, they start a little 
game of cards, during which noises begin to ascend from Priscilla' s conserva- 
tory, just underneath. To counteract the disturbance, the men begin to pound 
and jump on the floor. The pupils decamp and Priscilla goes to bed. The boys 
keep up the racket so vigorously, the ceiling and the chandelier fall from the 
fastenings. Priscilla screams and runs from the room. Tom and his friends 
come downstairs to see what damage they have done. The boys feel ashamed 
of themselves. Tom has never met Priscilla before, and is very sorry. He offers 
to make all repairs and see that everything is restored in proper shape. After 
this occurrence, Priscilla plies her vocation without interruption and she and 
Tom become more and more friendly. A few months later* Tom's friends of the 
card party decide to give Tom a surprise. On their way up to his apartment, 
they find Priscilla's rooms for rent and on the door of Tom's aparements a no- 
tice that "Mr. and Mrs. Talbot will return in two months." — James Young, 

THE WOOD VIOLET (Nov. 27). — The birds, the trees and all nature, 
bring peace and joy to the heart of Olyrapia, a child of nature, born and brought 
up in its midst. Marvin Ross, on a hunting trip in the mountain fastnesses 
where Olympia dwells, is pursuing a rabbit. He comes up with the girl and falls 
in love with her. The young man takes her to her father's cabin, where he re- 
mains a few days, during which time he becomes better acquainted with Olym- 
pia. She insists that he must not harm the animals of the woods, and to con- 
firm his promise, he throws away his gun. He tells her of his love and she 
promises to become his wife. After gaining the consent of her father, they are 
married. They go to the city, where Marvin, being wealthy, establishes her in a 
beautiful mansion. She pines and longs for the woods. Her husband, noticing 
this, goes back to her forest home, and with her father, erects a lodge on the 
border of a lake. During his absence, Olympia cannot withstand her longing, 
and discarding her finery, dresses herself in the clothing in which she loved to 
roam, wanders back to the scenes of her childhood. 

There she finds the lodge which her husband has built for her and a little 
later, he and her father find her. Her joy is unbounded when he tells her that 
he has built it for their future home, and the three of them will live there 'mid 
the scenes so dear to her heart. — Mrs. Breuil, Authoress. 

THREE GIRLS AND A MAN (Nov. 28).— Tired and in need of a rest, 
Charles Morris accepts an invitation to visit Dick Burton at his country home. 
Here he meets two attractive girls, Hilda, a mercenary flirt, and Dorothy, a 
fiiend of Dick's sister, Betty. The latter is Betty's favorite and decides, if she 
has anything to say about it, Charles Morris will make her his wife. Betty is 
only fifteen years of age, but she has a wise and discerning head. 

Hilda, knowing Morris is wealthy, decides to capture him, but she has more 
than one string to her bow. One of these strings is Mr. Bennett, an elderly 
adorer. Morris vacillates between the two charmers until Betty spoils Hilda's 
chances by waiting her opportunity when Mr. Bennett is out walking with Hil- 
da and has her clasped within his arms. The shrewd little minx hastily sum- 
mons Morris to witness the touching scene. To make doubly sure, she makes 
their presence known to Hilda, and then apologizes for intruding upon their 
sweet communion. Hilda accepts the situation as gracefully as possible. It 
does not take much of a philosopher to guess that Dorothy and Morris have a 
mutual understanding, suggestive of wedding bells. — Mrs. E. G. Medina, Au- 

THE ETVESDROPPER (Nov. 28).— Alice takes Billy and Kitty, her lit- 
tle brother and sister, to a matinee. They immediately become imbued with the 


wonderful idea tbat they are actors. They set up a miniature stage of their 
own m the summer house on the grounds. They spy upon their sister and her 
lover Bob, and reproduce their love affairs. A quarrel furnishes material for 
an interesting production, which are a revelation and a lesson to Bob He goe3 
and makes amends, acting upon the suggestions of the performance. — A R 
Kendall, Author. 

SUSIE TO SUSANNE (Nov. 28).— Susie, the plain and unsophisticated 
country girl, is no prize for her former suitor when he returns from college, 
a nmsned and polished graduate. He takes little notice of her and makes him- 
self popular among the girls of style. Susie writes her cousin Grace all about 
it and she invites Susie to visit her in the city. Susie does so and Grace tells 
her that they will soon make John feel sorry. Susie changes her name to 
Susanne, and after securing an outfit of the latest style and a little coaching 
from Grace and her husband, Susanne is capable of holding her own among 
the swells of the elite. 

A reception is given, to which John is invited. When he meets Susanne 
as a society bud, he is dumbfounded. She is so captivating and sweet that the 
old love of boyhood days is renewed, and he finds himself making overtures for 
her attention. She flouts him and coquettes with others. A few months later, 
she returns home to the country and he follows her. At first she will pay no 
attention to him, but his appeal is so strenuous she is just a little lenient Grad- 
ually he unbosoms himself and apologizes for his uppishness and lack of ap- 
preciation for her real worth. He is so penitent that she finally allows him 
to take her in his arms and they seal their engagement with a kiss. — Miss Marie 
T. Jacobs, Authoress. 


in love with Aileen Sullivan. Old Sullivan does not object to the match, but 
he dislikes O'Grady and is always quarreling with him. Tom is excitable, 
O'Grady morose. Henis O'Hara ,a kindly old Irish philosopher, is always try- 
ing to make peace. O'Grady has a goat, and one day by ill luck, it eats up 
some cherished flowers belonging to Tim. There is an awful row and Tim for- 
bids Aileen to see Tom again. Tom and Aileen go to Dennis for advice and he 
tells them a scheme to set things right. Tom tells his father that if he can- 
not have Aileen he will go West. 

Aileen hears the news and pretend* sickness. Tim and* O'Grady become 
alarmed and go over to consult Dennis O'Hara. He speaks to them severely and 
tells them they will bring down the wrath of heaven on them if they separate 
their children for their own foolish ends. He reduces them both to tears They 
shake hands and he at once takes them over to ullivan's cottage and Aileen is 
told the good news. Tom turns up, bringing a peace offering of some new 
flowers to Tim, and O'Hara with a smile sees his schemes succeed and every- 
body happy.- — W. L. Tremayne, Author. 

THE ABSENT-MINDED VALET (Dec. 2).— With a "dome" of solid ivory, 
Joe Price is the acme of absent-mindedness. His mother tells him he must get 
a job. She sees an advertisement in the paper for a valet, goes with him to 
make an application for the position. He is employed by Mr. Fussly, who has 
no end of trouble with him. When he leaves for a summer resort, he forgets 
the keys to the trunk, mislays the railroad tickets, and mails the trunk checks 
instead of come letters intrusted to him, and when he discovers the mistake, 
be tries to extricate them from the box and is arrested for robbing the mail. 
Mr. Fussly is obliged to secure his release. To cap the climax, he lets the wa- 
ter overflow the bathtub, when preparing a bath for his employer. Mr. Fussly 
is aroused to such fury he grabs the valet and throws him bodily into the 
steaming tub of water, sousing him repeatedly into it whenever he attempts to 
get out. — John Daly Murphy, Author. 

THE SCOOP (Dec. 3). — All the newspapers in town have failed to get an 
interview with Cornelius J. Smith, the multi-millionaire. Beulah Mead, a young 
society reporter on the "Sun," asks permission to try to get it. She arrives at 
the barricaded summer home of the millionaire, gets over the wall, and meets 
Cornelius J. Smith, Jr. He is working in the garden and dressed accordingly, 
and does not tell who he is. She cannot drop from the wall unassisted, and he 
agrees, for a kiss, to assist her and tell her where she can find his father. She 
finds him in swimming, without a bathing suit, and sitting on his clothes, de- 
mands an interview. He dare not come out and soon grants her the desired 
interview. She thanks him for his kindness and leaves the coast clear. She has 
to pay two kisses to Smith, Jr., to get out of the garden. She seems to be in- 


dignant, but finally laughs as she bids him good-bye. It is a big victory for 
her. She secures the interview for hei paper, a "Scoop." 

Cornelius J. Smith, Jr., calls on her at her home and she finally realizes 
when she sees his card who he is. He proposes, she accepts, and he makes 
a "scoop" for himself. — James Oliver Curwood, Author. 

THE CURIO HUNTERS (Dec. 4). — In search of curios among the South 
Sea Islands. Professor Hunter directs the captain of the vessel to stop at 
one of them. Landing with the sailors, the Professor makes his way to a vil- 
lage, which is deserted by the inhabitants. Among the sailors is one Bill, a 
little runt, who is given to generous libations from his inseparable black bottle. 
They all enter a large hun, used as a temple of worship to a Billiken-like god, 
enthroned on its pedestal in the center of the room. The Professor esteems it 
as a rare specimen of barbaric art. In their anxiety to get away with it before 
the return of the natives, they forget all about their companion Bill. 

When they reach the boats, the sailors miss Bill and two of them return 
to the hut for him. They find him reclining on the pedestal of the god. Recog- 
nizing Bills strong resemblance to the late occupant of the temple, they decide 
to fix him up a little more like the idol, await the return of the fishing party 
and see the fun. The cannibals come back and find their god full of animation 
and "booze." They are delighted and feast Bill on the fat of the land, attended 
by the choicest of colored maidens. 

In the meantime, Bill's companions have been discovered and are brought 
to the temple to receive sentence from their most worshipful god. Bill directs 
his' subjects to place them in position to receive the full weight and force of 
his cudgel-like sceptre upon the basements of their trousers. Then he commands 
his astonished worshipers to let them depart, while he remains to enjoy the 
"snap" which has fallen to his lot. — Marshall P. Wilder. Author. 

MRS. LIRRIPER'S LEGACY (Dec. 5). — The first part of the" picture shows 
the bringing up of Mrs. Lirriper's grandson, Jemmy Jackman Lirriper, by Mrs. 
Lirriper and the Major, their games and affection for each other. They rend 
him to a boarding cshool. Just before his- vacation, Mrs. Lirriper receives a 
visit from a man from the French Consul telling her that an Englishman who 
is sick at Sens, France, has made her his sole heir. She is puzzled to know 
who it is, and makes up her mind that she, the Major and Jemmy will visit 
Sens and if possible see the dying man. 

Arriving at Sens, Mrs. Lirriper is shown to the sick man's room. At first 
he is so changed that she does not recognize him, but when he looks at her, she 
knows it is Jemmy's father Edson, who deserted his kife. At first she upbraids 
him, but struck with pity at his miserable condition, she prays for him, and 
then when he asks to see Jemmy she brings the boy to "him, though of course, 
without telling him Avbo Ihe sick man is. Jemmy kisses his father, whom he 
thinks is a stranger and at his request, prays God to forgive him, and clasping 
his child's hand, Edson passes away. — W. L. Tremayne, Author. 

TOO MANY CASEYS (Doc. 6). — In a row of tenements, right next door 
to each other, live two families by the name of Casey. Casey No. 1 and his 
family, who are old residents, look- with some condescension upon the newly 
arrived Casey s, and refuse to mix with them. This arouses a sort of fued. 
Caseys No. 2 indulge in concerts on their house organ, which backs directly 
against the party wall of Caseys No.l, who are almost driven frantic. To 
counteract this, Casey No.l hires a street band and overwhelms the noise next 
door. Matters are brought to a crisis when a burglar is discovered by the two 
Caseys loitering in their back yard. Both of them take their revolvers and to- 
gether capture the burglar. Each one is ambitious to claim the credit. During 
the wrangle, the burglar escapes. Casey No.l accuses Casey No. 2 of interfering 
with his effort to protect his home and property. They flourish their revilvers 
and things wax hot, when a policeman appears and takes them in, charged with 
attempt to kill. 

Fortunately, a policeman has seen the burglar in flight, arrests him and 
brings him into the station house and the presence of the Caseys. Explanations 
folow and both Caseys are discharged. So overjoyed are they and their families, 
that a truce is declared. Peace and happiness now reigns where discord once 
prevailed. — Arthur F. Clark, Author. 

THE AWAKENING OF BIANCA (Dec. 7). — Nicola pays court to Bianca, 
the daughter of Angello, who runs a fruit store and for whom Nicola works. 
Guiseppe, who is - somewhat of a dandy, wins the girl's affections. Nicola leaves 
Angello's employ and by hard work saves enough money to buy a fruit stand 
of his own. 

Angello is stricken by a serious illness. Bianca is obliged to care for him 
and their fruit stand is closed, their income stops and they come to need Bianca 
determines to sell her beautiful head of hair to secure means. Guiseppe, still 
declaring his love, sees an opportunity of making commission on the sale of his 
sweetheart's hair and takes her to the hair merchant with a greedy desire to 
profit by its sale. As Bianca and Guiseppe are entering the merchant's shop, 
Nicola, on his way to close the transaction for his fruit stand sees them enter. 
He watches through the window and just as the merchant takes the shears in 
his hand to remove the long raven tresses of Bianca, he rushes into the place 
and stops the merchant and denounces Guiseppe. He takes his savings from his 
pocket and places them in the hand of Bianca, telling her to take the money 
to her father to relieve their necessity. Hurriedly he leaves the shop, followed 
by Bianca, who overtakes him and insists that he should take back the money, 
that she is hot deserving of his kindness or love, that she now realizes the dif- 
ference between Nicola's true heart and the false pretensions of Guiseppe. Nicola 
declares his love and asks her to become his wife. Sh is only too happy to 
place her future in the care and protection of the man willing to make such un- 
selfish sacdifices in her behalf. — Horace Kramer, Author. 

THE SIGNAL OF DISTRESS (Dec. 9).— Dolly Dillard jumps at the con- 
clusion that George Gordon is playing her false, as he affectionately greets his 
sister at the train when she comes to pay him a visit. Dolly, who is not ac- 
quaintedwith his sister, sends back her engagement ring. 

Sad and disconsolate, she saunters to the cliffs overlooking the seashore, 
trying to forget her imagined wrong. As she is climbing down the side of 'the 
rocky prominence, her foot slips and she falls into a narrow crevice. She finds 
herself helpless with a sprained ankle. 

Remembering George's returned match-case, she tears a piece of cloth from 
her skirt ;writes with a burnt match a note, telling of her accident. She ties 
it around her 'shoe and throws it over the cliff to her collie dog Jean, who car- 
ries the missive to George, who at once, after summoning aid, goes to her rescue, 
accompanied by her sister. After a dangerous descent by the aid of a rope, he 
succeeds in bringing her safely out of her peril. It is then she learns that the 
innocent cause of all her unhappy suspicions is George's sister. — Miss Alice A. 
Methley, Authoress. 

DOCTOR BRIDGET (Dec. 10). — Suffering with too little to do and too 
many to help him do it, Freddie, the little son of wealthy and indulgent parents, 
develops into a regular mollycoddle. He enjoys being petted and waited upon 
and to indulge this tendency, he claims to be sick. His parents engage the 
service* of all the specialists in town, but their dear Freddie grows more peevish 
and threatens to go into a decline, although he constantly insists upon smoking 
cigarettes and reading trashy literature throughout his illness. His solicitous 
parents are suddenly obliged to leave town and leave him under the care of a 
doctor and nurse. 

Bridget, the cook has diagnosed Freddie's case and concludes that she will 
take him'in hand and administer a little physical culture to him. Taking Fred- 
die by th* back of the neck, she sets him to work about the kitchen, scrubbing 
the floor, washing the dishes, and cleaning the stove. With her mental and 
physical dominion, this treatment gives Freddie an enormous appetite and 
speedilv he recovers from his sickness. ? (I'! -).* 123456123456 

speedily he recovers from his sickness.— Arthur F. Clark, Author. 

NATOOSA (Dec. 11) .—Sauntering through the Three X Ranch, Red Hawk 
and his daughter, Natoosa, are accosted by some of the cowboys, who try to 
take liberties with the young Indian girl Jack Bangs comes to her resciie and 
drives off her tormentors. He earns the thanks of Red Hawk and Natoosa falls 
deeply in love with him. 

Upon their return to the Indian encampment, Natoosa confides to her father 
that she is in love with Bangs. Red Hawk, filled with the pride and traditions 
of his race, goes back to the ranch, tells Bangs he would honor him by giving 
his daughter to him in marriage. Bangs frankly tells the chief that be is en- 
gaged to another. Red Hawk, disappointed and angry, sul enly departs. He 
telK his braves that they must capture Jack and his sweetheart, Lillian, and 
Kg them t the IndlS encampment. Obeying their chiefs command, hev 
await a favorable opportunity and lie in wait for Jack and L.llian whom they 
seize and carrv awav. Thev tie them to stakes with the decree that on tne 
morrow they Sust both die. Leaving them for the night, the Indians return to 
their vilase Natoosa overhears them arranging the execution, of the PV^°° er . s n 
In "nite of her rejection, her love is too sincere for Jack to see him die or to 
wish P him any unhappiness. In the darkness of the night, she goes in search of 


Jack and Lillian. When she finds them, she releases them, urging them to es- 
cape, which they do with all possible speed. When Red Hawk accidently learns 
that his daughter has freed them, he determines that she shall he put to death 
for the deed. Natoosa wanders to the transparent pool which she was wont 
to frequent and sadly viewing the reflection of her face in its mirror-like depths, 
she despondently drives a dagger into her breast and drops lifeless. Her father, 
who is searching for her, reaches the pool and finds his daughter has carried 
out the execution of his own intentions. — A. L. Behrman, Author. 

ADAM AND EVE (Dec. 12). — The man, Adam, not content to be alone, 
unto him was given a woman, Eve. They were happy and content, until one 
day, there comes to their home a tempter. They take him in, feed and house 
him over night, and during his stay, he shows them many trinkets, laces and 
other finery, which appeals to the woman's vanity, and she begs her husband 
to buy them for her. His scant earning as a gardener cannot cater to the in- 
dulgence of luxuries, and he refuses. She pleads with him and when the peddler 
retires for the night, Eve persuades Adam to steal from the peddler's pack 
that se may possess that which she craves. . 

Adam succumbs to her enticement and the seeds of sin are sown and their 
happiness and peace of mind depart from that time henceforth. In the morning, 
when the peddler leaves, they would believe that their unhappiness had gone 
with him, but not so, they must reap that which they have sown and the dis- 
quieting spirit of evil hath taken possession of their hearts and home. When 
the peddler discovers that he has been robbed, he is fired with the spirit of re- 
venge and immediately reports his loss to the town authorities, who hasten to 
apprehend the culprits. On their way, the news spreads among the townspeople, 
who pretend to be inspired with righteous indignation, but in reality they secret- 
ly rejoice in the downfall of their weak and foolish neighbors. Brought face to 
face with the peddler, Adam and Eve confess their guilt and the discovery of 
the stolen property at once convicts them. Imprisonment is the penalty of their 
crime, but through their appeals for mercy, they are condemned to banishment. 
— Geo. B. Scott, Author. ? 

THE SONG OF THE SHELL (Dec. 13).— Suffering with ennui, bored by 
society, Annie Bradley, a wealthy girl, is anxious to make her time more profit- 
able by doing something worth while. Alice Godfrey, a nurse on the Floating 
Hospital of the local Guild, pays Annie a visit and suggests to her that she in- 
terest herself in settlement work among the poor and accompany her on a tour 
through the tenement districts. Annie consents and she soon finds herself so 
interested in the work, she makes application for an appointment as a visiting 
nurse. She is accepted and joins in the work of attending the sick children on 
the Floating Hospital. Her tenderness and efficiency is noticed by Dr. Fergu- 
son, the physician in charge, and he compliments her on her work. This courtesy 
leads to a friendship between her and the Doctor which ripens into love. 

They are obliged, by the rules of the Hospital, to do their courting in se- 
cret, while on shipboard. The Doctor proposes to Annie, and finding him so 
different from the men among the wealthy set with whom she is acquainted, she 
readily accepts him. They are secretly married. Annie continues her labors 
among the poor and it is not until some time after they are married that the 
Doctor learns by accident of Annie's wealth and social prominence. She tells 
him, that she appreciates his ambition but he can rest assured that her nianey 
will contribute very greatly to their comfort while he is rising to a high posi- 
tion in his profession. He is encouraged by her willingness to assist, but con- 
vinces her that he will value her love and sweetness of character in the future, 
as he has in the past, above the wealth of all the world. — Mrs. Breuil, Authoress. 

ALL FOR A GIRL (Dec. 12). — Billy Joy, a young reporter, is told by his 
chief, if he will secure certain letters connected with a prominent divorce scan- 
dal, he will raise his wages $10 a week. This increase will make Billy rich 
enough to marry Claire. He learns that Mrs. Gardner, who is seeking a divorce 
visits Claire and shows her the letters. Billy disguises himself as a milkman 
and makes love to Mrs. Gardner's cook to induce her to help him get a looff 
at the letters in the case While holding the cook on his lap, in the kitchen, 
Claire Taylor, his sweetheart, calls en Mrs. Gardner. During her visit Mrs. 
Gardner shows Claire the letters and explains to her their connection in the 
divorce case. 

Wishing some refreshments, Mrs. Gardner rings for the cook, who does 
not respond. She hurries to the kitchen, accompanied by Claire, and there they 
discover the cook sitting on Billy's lap. Claire, who still has Mrs. Gardner's 
letters in her hand, is so astonished at seeing her fiancee in such a compromis- 
ing position, drops the letters upon the floor and will not listen to Billy's ex- 



planations ; leaving the kitchen thoroughly disgusted. Billy has his eyes on 
the letters, snatches them from the floor, places them in his pocket and makes 
for the editorial rooms of his newspaper. His Chief, delighted with Billy's 
work, gives him the promised raise of salary, and straightens things between 
him and Claire, clearing up his attentions to Mrs. Gardner's cook. — Wallace 
Eeid, Author. 

MR. DAWSON TTRNS THE TABLES (Dec. 14).— The Senior Clerk of 
Brown Brothers' office thinks himself irresistibly fascinating. He is very flxy 
and fussy, constantly prinking before the mirror. The rest of the clerks decide 
to play a trick on him, sending him a mash note from a fictitious young lady, 
making a date for the following Sunday. He gets wise to their game, and ar- 
ranged with a young waitress at the restaurant where he eats to keep the date 
and put one over on the boys. She agrees. The next Sunday, the whole office 
force is waiting at the appointed place to see his discomfiture. They are sur- 
prised Mhen they see the classy little waitress, stunningly dressed and bewitch- 
ingly pretty, appear upon the scene, take Dawson's arm and proudly saunter 
away with him. With gaping mouths and staring eyes, they ask each other, 
"Can You Beat It?" — N. Burnham, Author. 

** 92 


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