New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1917-03-04
INDICATING MIR. WILLIAMS

ooh, do you know Earle Williams ?"
the reply will be. Indeed, ! do, and he
is even nicer than he looks. | had
luncheon with him at funny little
grill room near the studio, where all
of the actors go without removing
their makeup or their costumes. There
were Indians, cowboys, Red Cross
nurses and Russians with long boards.
Mr.. Williams was playing a handsome
millionaire clubman, so he didn't have
to make up. At risk OF offending
your aesthetic taste. | will tell you
that he ordered frankfurters and sauer-
kraut. that he ate heartily and seemed
TO enjoy it.
also. to-day is his birthday. lie
told me so himself, and he is thirty
years old. He is five feet eleven inches
tall, weighs 172 pounds and has black
hair and blue eyes and isn't a bit con-
ceited. in spite Of the fact that he is
the handsomest man on the screen.
And, oh, yes-he isn't married, never
has been and isn't going 10 be. He
doesn't take himself seriously, and for
gets that he is an actor the minute
he gets away from The camera. His
salary was larger than that of the
President of these L. s. A. until the
President had his last raise"
The defendant will now take the
stand.
Don't ask me which like better.
deserted the stage for the silent drama,
so think that speaks for itself"
Now, what ! want TO know is this:
Do you receive dozens and dozens of
letters every day from persons who
have seen you on the screen and want
to know you?"
We'll" and Mr. Williams blushed
through his grease paint, Il do, OF
course, receive great many letters,
just as every motion picture actor does,
but not all of them are admiring ones,
can assure you. Listen to this one:
Dear Mr.. Williams: saw you in
"Arsene Lupin" and enjoyed the play,
but why do you not have your hair cut?
It is too long over your ears.
Nothing very romantic in that, is
there? | could tell the lady that the
reason is that they wouldn't let me
have it cut until the picture was fin
ishcd You know, there is no continu-
ity in filming a picture, and the last
scenes may be the first ones taken.
an one picture, remember, |
stepped from one room to another, but
the pictures were taken several days
apart, and in the interim l had had my
hair cut The last was first in the
screen, and it made me look as though
my hair had grown couple of inches
as ! passed from one room to the
other"
Mr.. Williams's visitor had been turn
ing over the pile of letters. about a
hundred Of them, which had arrived
in the last mail, and she selected a
rose tinted scented one and begged so
hard to see it that Mr.. Williams finally
consented. providing there was no name
signed 10 il. Il proved that the writer
had had a sudden qualm of modesty
and coyly signed herself M" so the
caller was allowed to see the letter
Well. II Mr Williams receives many
such he certainly bears up under il
beautifully She said many things,
among them that she had heard that he
was not married. and she felt they
could be so happy together. The young
lady lives in Hoboken, so unless she
contemplates changing her place Of res
idence she seems unduly optimistic.
"Tbc great majority Of letters are
from misguided persons who want TO
become screen stars. Every girl who is
failure as a stenographer or a sales
woman feels that her duty is to uplift
the screen. At least, that is always
the reason she gives. She wants n
mission or hears voices or feels the
call or something. when, a. a matter OF
fact. she is simply dazzled by the Wis
ions Of owning her own limousine and
wearing diamonds. II is the rcputed
fabulous salaries which make the NOV
ing picture studios the mecca for all
those many pilgrims who are looking
Tor easy and abundant money. II isl
| the tIiumSh Of hope over reason