THE GENTLE ART OF INTERVIEWING SCREEN STARS

Hawke's Bay Herald-Tribune, Issue 101, 15 May 1937, Page 13

THE GENTLE ART OF INTERVIEWING SCREEN STARS

Interviewing, like the old grey maro, ain't what she used to be. Ten years ago, when I first came to Hollywood, a writer was looked upon as a friend. We sat around on sets, chatting with whoever wasn't actually working in a scene (these were silent picture days); we went on location with stars, shared box lunches on decks of old cruisers, in tents on the desert or on the shores of mountain lakes; cowboy stars taught ua to ride; famous villains showed us how to barbecue venison, and their no 'less gracioua wives included us in jolly little side trips when the company was making "piek up shots." . Sunday afternoon meant open house in at least a dozen starry homes, where we played tennis or went in the swim-miag-pool before the buffet supper. Mothers of stars asked us to inseri bits of parental advice, carefully disguised, into their off spring 's ears. Girls hesitating over matrimony asked us to go with them to isee what a famous crystal gazer could tell them about the future. Young bachelors telephoned to ask what to do for sore throats. We sometimes had a chance to persuade a dubious supervisor that So-and-So should play a coveted part. Given this informality, it was a poor in! erviewer who couldn't get a story.. But now that the "Hays' list" — a rollvof names of aecredited representatives of newSpapers and magazines — numbers nearly 200, everything is changed. A writer is not a friend but a necessary evil. A popular star can bo seen only by appointment. She usually sets aside a day or two every ruonth and tries to see every important writer who has asked for an interview. The list runs for example, thus:— - NOBMA SHEABEE. Maude Lathem (Modern .Screen), 1 o 'clock p.m. Alice Tildesley (Ledger Syndicate) 1.30 p.m. Gene Chrisman (Fawcett Publications) 2.0 p.mL Etc. If Maude is a' little late, or Norma wasn't ready W'hen Maude arrived, 3 will be on hand before Norma is Teady for me, and perhaps I will scarcely have begun my interview before Gene is at the door. Others will be waiting impatiently by the time I have been shooed out. You can see for yourself that only the luck of Eiley is going to provide a writer with material for a really good story. In the cass of Norma Shearer luck will be supplemented with Norma 's good grey matter, for she always knows beforehand what you want her to talk about, and has thought of something unhackueyed to say on the subject. Bcsides, Norma is no newcomer. We know her well enough to "get" her personality. Of course there is the player who "runs off at the mouth," who begins to say something the minute he sees you twenty yards away and is- still wagging his tongue amusingly jvhen you are gently pushed out of the room by a studio publicity man. But the greater proportion of interviewees are not able to talk on the split second. Most of them are willing enough, but some are born with no idea of what a story is, some insiSt on using up precious minutes with "ofi the record" stuff, and some, have to get warmed up to a subject. So what? Once upon a time I drew a girl who not only had no" idea of a story, but who was so cautious about what should appear in print that every time I suggested a fairly quotable line, she'd cry: "Oh, but I don"t think I ought to say that!" Even the innoeuous statement that men always like red hats seemed to her dangerous. She was at the top of the heap at the time and we had to have a story of her. Otherwise I could have considered the thirty minutes a waste of time and let it go at that. As it was, I wrote a story embodying what the public would expect her to think on the subject, explained matters to her studio and submitted the story for her O.K. She changed nothing more than one line. "Eut you know I'm not good copy! Warner Baxter usually protests, when asked for an interview. "I can *£ think of brilliant things to say on the spur of the moment. Fm afraid I'm not ( very interesting. ' ' A most refreshing remark from oue of our best screen actors. It's true that you don't get very far with him in ten minutes, but if you work at it, if you present some controversial subject or advance an opinion on something really interesting, he 'b off. You don't have to say; "You think so-and-so, don't you?" or ■ '.You believe thus." It's always a good idea to know what story you hope to get when you make an appointment, but it's welJ to have a second or third subject in mind in case the first is a fizzle. Miriam Hopkins apt to announce: "I think that's siily. I haven't anything to say about it." But she can usually be eounted on to pursue another trail. The ideal way • to be interviewed would be for the writer to come over and spend the day and just do as she liked — read or talk or play with the baby — and I 'd do whatever I was going ' to do. The result should be a story that would show me as a person," Miriam observed the last time I was at her house. That would be nice — but with 200 interviewers, how much spare time would a star have, seeing that there are only 365 days in a year?— I Alice L, Tyldesley, in '"''The Editor,"