TRADER HORN

Rotorua Morning Post, Volume 1, Issue 148, 15 February 1932, Page 2

TRADER HORN

W. S. van Dyke-

WQRK ON LOCATION COMPANY OVERTAKEN BY TERRIFIC AFRICAN STORM

(By

— Copyright.)

■MURCHISON FALLS, Urganda, June 7. \ IN the exigencies of transporting our company to this new location, I have neglec'ied to •nontion a very imporfcant detail — ■ he discovery of Renchero. Probably the fact that he has been un«Ier my very nose for the past i:wo weeks mfluences me to think liglitly of the unusual bit of luck :hat brought him to my attention. It was the last day of filming at Panyimur during one of the interminab1e intermissions when the sun refused to shine that Harry Albiez, our property man, decided to give the natives a thrill. Looking through his trunks on location he came upon a gorilla suit which he had brought along to be used in case we were unable to locate any real ones. There were at least a hundred 'natives gathered around, viewing the process of picture-making, and it occurred to Harry that it would be a great moment- to exneriment with the suit. Concealed in the "prop." tent, he slipped into the outfit and then called rome of us over to give the alarm and start the panic. At a given signal a counle of bovs rushed out of the shed, screnming at the top of their lungs, folloved closely by the "gorilla." In less than it takes to say it, most of the natives had left the scene cpmpletplv. bound for the tall grass. O'thefs had taken to the trees, and one or two were hidden in the trading post store built on the scene. Just when we were getting a great laugh out of the success of our act, mv eves fell upon the figure of a giant nttive, standing directly in the path of the charming Albiez, and roaching nonchalantly for his panga. p t fp a t;nie. I ara rather ashamed to pdpnit. the seriousness of the occap:ot> so fnr as it concerned the "Gorilla" escaped me. I was consumed with the realisation that I had found Renchero. Fortunately, one of the huntei's intei'ceded in time to prevent anv calamities and the danger was avevf.ed.

Signed Up I went at once to Waller, head of the safari, and asked him where the his: native had been, explaining the neepssity fnr such a character in the pictuTe. He told. me that the fellow was Mutia, head of our own safari bo-'-s. that. he had been with us all the t:m"e. that he had been on the locatinn opi v hv obance on his way from p. hnth in the lake. and that he unrii Acfionrhlv poss°ssed sufficient into "understand" acting in the mVtu^e. A+ the time I saw him he was dressr»fl onlv in a loin cloth. which acAnnnta fon +he fact that I never notp.od him before in my search for p^riAhnvna. In cpmu he wears a flowvhife rnhe which concea.ls his md detracts from his hnin-M. Althaup-h we have no accuretn I iudcp him to be at least f.C t 1'n t-lb weVhing no less than i fb-t "ih. Ha has the stretched ear lnhA". *T-mVnl 0f the Makamba natives. ♦>rul the H-oir. derneanonr of the better Ainf? nf Afrioen "boys." Th a de tr following his discovery he c?o-r> a/1 nn to plav the part, the -UrO- Af +Ua sfnnr ivas exnlained to him ;r, q„,ohMi en'l his costnme- was fitted n-n h:m. Fov the moment I am almost 'x-illiont anv worvies. An African Storm JUNE 10. Tf nmr nian had rightful cause to hn eimevc;titious, I am that man. I c-,oa rnneh to mv personal discomfortnrp thet. T am in the act of inditing fhe 1 P.th rhfvnter of my diary to an nnannnepiative immortality, and I find that Fate has ordained that this ppnio entrv contains the record of e^'ents devolvine about a cloudburst which necprred three nights ago, and which threatened to remove from the facA of the globe the physical aspects of; M G M. in Africa. And I read in niv potrv of a few hours befoi'e the stmnn: "To-morrow morning . . . . when th- ciicking of a movie camera will break in uron the stillness of anotber big of aboriginal Africa." It will. eh? Everyohe retired early on tbe nigbt of June 6 to get a good rest before

the activity of the first day of filming on the new location. I remember noticing an ominous stillness during the hours after dinner. The breeze had died down completely, and there was that ten'seness in the atmosphere which heralds an African storm. . it was about 9 o'clock when I crawled under the mosquito net, and blew out my lamp. The camp was already quiet'ed for the night by that time, and I could hear occasional snores and sleepy mumblings from the tents nearby. Sometime during the night I dreamed of filming a "thriller" on the river beside which we are camped. There was a tiny canoe in the picture, loaded with some of my old movie friends - — Jack Dempsey, Tim McCoy and Buck Jones among them — and the water in the river was -a rushing, boiling maelstrom. I was getting some great shots of, this canoe heing piloted through the rapids when suddenly I was awakened by the sound of rushing water. Outside the air was continually lit with the flashes of lightning bolts. Water was coming down in almost a solid mass — there seemed to be no drops of rain at all. Even during the streaks of lightning it was impossible to see beyond the limits of my tent stalces. And all the while a constant roll of thunder beat it steady tattoo over the noise of the plunging cascades of water. It would have been impossible to hear the voices of any of my camp-mates, had they been awake to talk. Deluge of Water , I was on the point of reaching under my bed for my slippers when the baclc of my tent gave away with a crash and a deluge of water swept over me and everything I could see. Before I could imagine what had happened, my bed was lifted hy the onrush of water and with me in it, sta"rted for the river about 20 feet away. I had begun to jump for safety when very suddenly I felt myself thrown against a tree stump which stood a few feet from the water's edge, and which, fortunately, gave me an opportunity to get my feet on the ground in time to save myself and the bed further embarrassment. Turning around to plan my next move I was greeted by one of the most gracious sights my eyes have ever beheld. It was the single bluewhite eye of an electric flashlight, coming toward me through the storm. As it drew closer I could hear the voice of Clyde De Vinna shouting to me from behind it. "Thought we'd lost you," he, yelled. "I couldn't find anything but a trunk in your tent. Everything else has followed mine into the river." Together we made our way about camp during the hour or two following. A_lmost every tent in the encampmsnt" had been levelled, and there was not an instance where the storm had failed to exact some loss of personal property. The fortunate ones were deprived only of a few pairs of shoes, some items of clothing or a small knapsack. Others lost trunks, suitcases, beds, parts of their tents. Even as we made the rounds, the water was rushing through the camp at a level of more than a foot in most places, carrying with it hoxes, bits of brush and saplings. Scene of Ruin In the morning the scene which greeted us as we staggered out of the mess tent, damp and ill-tempered, added nothing to our peace of mind. The storm had broken presumably in the canyon behind the camp. The water had gathered between the two walls of rock, and, literally forming a river, had swept down upon our camp site, which stood immediately between the canyon and its outlet to the river. Just before tumbling past our tents, it had broken up into five or six smaller streams, following depressionsv in the ground, and it was one of these that had swept through my tent. In the case of the tents standing between these subsidiary rivulets, only minor damage had been wrought. A clieck of a few hours revealed that about 20 boxes of stores had been carried away, the motor gcnerator on the radio had been damaged beyond repair, water had leaked into the camera tent and ruined almost 25,000 feet of unexposed film, and temporarily put out of commission two of the three cameras set up. Harry Carey had lost his wardrobe for the picture and one trunk of personal effects. Last year his £70,000 ranch was wiped out in the San Fernando dam break. (to be continued.) WMBay.ia m