FALLEN STARS

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 357, 18 May 1928, Page 1

FALLEN STARS

Vaudevillians Offer for the Screen AUCKLAND ENTERPRISE “Perhaps I could shave it off, sir?” the old vaudeviilian volunteered. “You know,” he added, confidentially, “I have not had it that long!” The movie director looked long and hard at the moustache, while the old man from Grey Street—he was a veteran of the days when Percy Dix held sway in Auckland—meandered on. Mr Rudall Hayward, New Zealand's only film director, had advertised for “a middle-aged, experienced, professional or amateur actor to enact the role of an elderly Scotchman” in “The Bush Cinderella,*’ his new production. “The City ’All. sir? You didn't know the old ’all?” The old man was aghast. “Imagine forgetting the old City Hall to which Auckland's amusement lovers had flocked in the days of Dix’s! “But then, of course, sir, you would not know it. How silly of me.” “A CHARACTER IV*AN” “But them were the days, right enough. The good old days. What was I? A character man; yes, a character man.” The old man fingered the billowy, yellowy moustache that he was so anxious to sacrifice on the altar of Thespis, and hesitatingly grasped his hat. . . . Yes, Grey Street was the address. . . . Would he work as an “extra”? Of course, of course. Somehow, one could not imagine that moustache on the stern upper lip of the most belligerent Highlander. “Have I had any experience? No certainly not —that is. except at carnivals and that kind of thing. T , An tor J Yes ’ sir - an actor born. Its m the blood. Willing to do anvthing. "Will play villain or anything you like. Commit murder if necessary!” Questioned as to precisely what he did at “carnivals and that kind of thing, the newcomer admitted that he was “a funny man.” Always had been, and always would be, he insisted a funny man. No, he would not object to being an “extra.” “Better than walking about doing nothing,” was the verdict of the funny man. “At your service, sir!” The little man w. th the bun and the businesslike air, who had been “on and off” for the last 20 years, sat down. Comedian, character man, even “descriptive vocalist”—he had turned his hand to most things on the vaudeville stage. “I worked with Sir Ben Fuller —it was long before he was Sir Ben—down in the old Alhambra, and, believe me, that was not yesterday. Yes, I have had me experience . . . * * * The little thin man, with the thin hair, endeavouring, somewhat pathetically, to cross the desert-like expanse of his bald head, who gazed so anxiously at the producer, looked more Semitic than Scottish. There was one scene on the wharves, he was told, where he might possibly come in. “That would be me,” he declared, eagerly, “right into me very ’ands. sir! ” WOULD COMMIT “MURDER” He, too, was prepared to commit “murder or anythink.” The little Cockney, who appeared in cap and spats, and sat gingerly on the edge of a chair, with the cap still on: and the elderly man who pared his nails as he recalled his experiences with Claude Dampier, were both elated with the possibility of appearing as “crooks.” “I am afraid that I have nothing else to offer you.” The young man, too, a confirmed victim of the picture bug. who knew “where he could get a dress He was likewise satisfied with the chance of appearing in the film. * * * But where, oh where, was the Scotsman ? Every man Jack who applied for the role was a Sassenach! There was not a son of Caledonia among the applicants. *