ASSURANCE FREAKS

NZ Truth, Issue 1210, 7 February 1929, Page 9

ASSURANCE FREAKS

How Some Screen Stars

Seek Publicity

ADGLPHE MENJOU'S MOUSTACHE

Publicity has been developed into a fine art by astute experts. Movie stars thrive on limelight, consequently every star (and budding starlet) has a corps of specialists ever oil the lookout for advertisement.

ONE "tiny, inoffensive little mole on the chin of ah actress, may, m the opinion of her publicity expert, be worth £10,000. A pair of pretty feminine legs not unduly scarred by vaccination at the knee, have a gross value ranging anywhere from £20,000 to £100,000. A cock-eye is worth a fortune, and a little wispy moustache —a cute little moustache— has a -value almost incalculable. _. , , . . There are more freak insurance policies issued to the motion piciure clan than to any. other lot of industrialists m America. There are more press agent policies applied for (with reservations) than ever will be issued, because the insurance companies will not consider them. Which doesn't matter much. The

world gets to read, just the same, that "Miss Flobelle Whozltt, star of The Sweetest Girl Pictures, made application to-day for a £20,000 policy on her perfectly - shaped nether limbs, the limbs which painters and sculptors have declared the most symmetrical m the world, barring none." Or that "Mias Doradum" Bell, after being acclaimed an exact replica of the Venus de Milo, has applied for a cold million dollar insurance on her marvellous figure." Thereby making everyone curious about Doradum. Such are the startling valuations. When Ben Turpin decided to go into the big pihewood hunting, a rai'e opportunity presented itself for a bit of publicity. What if the discharge of a gun suddenly caused his cock-eyes to go straight? Ben would be through as an actor— done, washed up, and virtually on the way home, his pick broken. "I'll take out insurance," said Ben. "That'll be good for a story all over the world." Ben made application for a policy good for two days, got it, and paid £21 premium. But before the company would issue the policy, he had to sign a document releasing it from all obligation of any sort before it

ever Went into effect. , The space he got m newspapers couldn't have been bought with a king's ransom. It pays to advertise. There was Buster Keaton's cow, a mild-mannered, sleepy-looking old bovine which wasn't worth £10 as beef and scarcely more than that as,. a milk producer. But Buster needed a, cow (and -some publicity) for his picture, "Go West." So he made application for a £20,000 policy on Brown Eyes and then gave a tea party for her on the lawn at the Ambassador Hotel m Los Angeles. \ The guests were Peter the Great, a movie dog; Kameo, another canine; Jimmy, a monkey with a voice .like a rusty door, and a brilliantly- colored parrot. Hay, hamburger and sugar were served as refreshments, and the assemblage was photographed for the newspapers. After which Brown Eyes

departed m her limousine, a truck borrowed from the studio, That £20,00U insurance policy never was issued. Yet Brown Eyes was photographed from every angle and widely publicised before being returned to her silent pastures m the Californian lulls. The movie folk think of the most unusual, unheard-of things to get into the public print. There sis Adolphe Menjou, for example. Adolphe has a i itt ie hair-line growth on his upper v which' he calls the Menjou moustache ' Anything as valuable as that he believed should be copyright, patented, preaer ved to himself. The little moustache jg SQ dlfferentl s0 sophisticated, distinctive. So he went to see about insurance. "A £5000 policy will cost £100 a year," said a representative of Lloyd's. The more Adolphe thought about it, the more he became convinced that the moustache really wasn't m such great jeopardy — at least, not £100 worth. So he declined the policy. The original clothing Cna'rlie Chaplin wore when he conceived the idea for that sorrowful, pathetic character he portrays on the screen — the clothing- consisting' of a cutaway coat, baggy trousers, oversized shoes, dilapidated derby and trick cane, •was exhibited m New York and Chicago last summer, and while en route was insured for £10,000. Ordinarily, the historic raiment is kept m a vault a t the Chaplin Ktudio. To an old clothes dealer, the outfit probably wouldn't be worth two bob. But £10,000 on the outfit was considered mild. Museums m New York and London have asked that the world-famous garments be preserved for them. When Cecil de Mille filmed the "King of Kings," he used a quartette of zebras borrowed from, a circus to draw chariots. On ilk the striped y juadrupeds he took out £ 8000 insurance, applicable m case of mortality. But he insured the wrong actors. The zebras kick-

Ed the daylight out of two trainers during the progress of the picture, and themselves went unscathed. Harold Lloyd is credited with insuring his first pair of horn-rimmed glasses for £5000. They possibly, are worth a shilling. Farina, the pickaninny employed m "Our. Gang" comedies, is insured by Hal. Roach, the producer, for £10,000. (And it's real.) Wallace Beery and Raymond Hatton, with legs like piano supports, applied for £2500 insurance on each limb last summer, because they heard that Mistinguette, the Parisian actress, had insured her legs for £10,000. "She's got nothing on us," said Wallace, although he knew that his pedal extremities looked more like cacti, sofa cushions, or those bristly pine cones which come from wild places m the WOOCL : ; . '' ', • . •' ,'. . ..- "'.■" ' :