Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1917-09-27
FAIRBANKS AS FILM
STORY DRAMATTST
ctsr of "Man From Painted
Post" Senses Psychologi-
cal Effects
Nv the Photoplay Editor

ohotoplay reporter with a taste for
n.h,ne Il and an unaffected admiration
y. nouslas Fairbanks, to be shown next
~,.s at the Stanley, recently tracked the
.onolar film star to the sort of OPEN
=. studio" conveniently furnished by west
q. natural scenery and walked right into
earnest conference on movie plays and
.,ie acting What follows is a record Of
-. ,nterviewer's impressions of the cpl
,ode.
s,lbouetted against the blue Sky, with a
80 moon gradually emerging over the hills,
IA a campfire in its glory sat Douglas
rsIrbanls. the actor by profession, but the
sramstic psychologist by instinct.
.,well. what do you think of the story,
..,,s7r broke the monotony of two minutes
.nsnt in silent admiration Of the rising
.soon sv The wind caused the fire to illumi-
s.ta the profile of Sam Brownall, champion
hncking hor: rider of the world. He ac-
snted this as his cue to speak
sTlInd of think you got the right stuff"
"a in his droll manner continued: I've
.ssn many western pictures, but, man alive,
rou've got drama into the life of ranger
Srama that's true and on the level Why,
man dear. you've got me buffaloed."
same heie,' came simultaneously from
.~snty other cowboys, who were specially
Engaged to work in the Fairbanks western
play -,..,
fairbanks ncrvcusly fumblng some ciga-
RITE papers-"honestly, boys, this picture
must be the real goods-the gun play
frank Campeau's entrance-then when you
rlck me up in the hills-gos-if you're hon.
"a with your opinion, of goes my coat
,nd we're In lnee-deep to win"
n A. Strickland, who holds many medals
,o- bareback riding, observed:
douglas, I'D like to say something for
N. boys I'm the oldest cowhand, so /
gupss I'm on the right track. We've all
.nent good deal of our lives on the ranch,
rmchng cattle and breaking colts and
rs're' kind of hardened to the emotions
Al lIfe--in your story you have us doing
,veryday routine work. but we've never
singled out the details you seem to have
masnifed and / am thrilled when l hear
you telling about them. Your buclling
broncho incident is fne-the fight in the
room reminds me of the real thing-and the
sentiment of the entire story seems to hit
on four legs, and we're with you until our
voices are unable to yell go to it,"
That's great" replied Douglas, what
Al YOU say if" and he continued telling
of a new situation that could be logically
woven into the story 1t was exactly three
hours later that Fairbanks and the boys
turned in for the night. Their first day
IN camp-and with two previous nights
1pent in travelling from Los Angeles to
laramie, Wyoming, Morpheus seemed very
alluring
Good nights" were exchanged among
them and with their blankets under their
arms, they marched to their assigned hunks.
But Fairbanks didn't turn in for the night.
Although he had undressed and turned the
wick In the lamp to almost darkness he
rat there-alone-on a bed of straw and
covered with blankets thinking-caused by
Ms determination to have the story in per-
feet shape before the camera cranlSed on
the initial scene, scheduled to be taken the
first thing in the morning.
He didn't do much sleeping that night,
but was bright and snappy at the break
fast table, feasting on ham and eggs and
telling the new version of his story-not
bit like the one he related at the camp
fre--but in his revision a series of situa-
tons rich in appeal that won the unani-
nous approval of every one present.
That's how Douglas Fairbanks writes
plays. He thinks about them after every
one has gone to bed, satisfied that the fin
ished story Is a top-notcher and will make
an excellent picture. He lives it night
after night, burns the midnight oil-and
always comes up smiling.