Hollywood Cavalcade Page #3

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the howling of the wolves.

- [Train Whistle Blows]

- Whoo!

Whoo!

Coming nearer and nearer.

Finally, finally,

you can go no further.

You stumble, then you fall.

You're half-conscious

from fear and pain...

and cold.

Oh, but you're still, still

thinking about your lover.

You're visioning him

being lashed with that knout.

I'll double expose him

up-up in the corner of the screen.

And there you lie,

moaning, calling to him.

"Oh, come to me, my loved one!

Come to me!"

Is everything all right, sir?

Get out! Can't you see I'm dying?

- Yeah-Yes, sir.

- Well, then get out!

Now, your lover is riding off to war.

That's right. Wave to him.

That's it. Dreamy.

Aw, that's fine. Now think of him.

Think he might never, ever,

ever come back to you.

That's it. Fine, fine.

Now look down at his roses.

Smile.

All right. Come on now.

Let it grow- bigger.

Come on. Bigger, bigger, bigger!

That's it. Give, baby, give!

All right.

Fade it out, Pete. Fade it out.

Oh, that's swell. Beautiful.

- You photograph very good, little lady.

- Thank you, Mr. Stout.

Not bad. Not bad at all.

What do you mean, "Not bad"?

Did you get that smile and that personality?

Why, she's terrific!

Maybe you're right.

I'm glad we signed her.

But a hundred dollars

is a whale of a lot of dough.

Oh, of course it is, but she's worth it.

And this new scenario I've written for her

is surefire. They'll love her in it.

- So you're a writer now?

- Oh, no, no. I'm gonna direct

her first picture, chief.

But you're no director. You never

directed a foot of film in your life.

- You're a prop boy. How can you-

- A what? A prop boy?

Don't let him frighten you, honey.

You're right. I was a prop boy.

I was a janitor. When there was

nobody else to do pratfalls, I did them.

I played bits and figured out gags too.

In fact, I did everything in the studio

that called for a little dough...

and no credit and lots of bruises.

All the while, you promised to give me a chance.

I made my chance, and this is it.

Either I handle the megaphone on her first

picture, or I walk her right over to Path.

Why, you're talking like a lunatic.

You can't take her to another studio.

We've got her under contract.

You got my wire, didn't you?

And you wired back to sign her.

Okay, I signed her to myself.

She's mine, and if you don't like it that way,

that's okay by me.

I'll trot her over to Path, and they'll be

tickled to death to get her at twice her salary.

But, Mike, be reasonable.

I might give you a raise and maybe later on

a chance to direct, but-

No, no.

You've made promises to me before.

Either I direct Molly in her first picture,

or we walk right over to Path.

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