celebrities – Page 26 – A New Yorker State of Mind

The Last Impressionist

The death of artist Claude Monet prompted the editors of the New Yorker’s “Talk of the Town” to speculate on the true origins of the “Impressionist” movement of the late 19th century.

586fbe11df96b63350793a3341bc3dcf — December 18, 1926 cover by **Ottar Gaul**. Once again, the theme of the doddering sugar daddy out on the town with his young mistress.

Note how the “Talk” editors lightly regarded the artist’s late period, during which he painted his famous “Water Lilies” series:

The editors also used the occasion to clear up the confusion (in the lay mind) between Édouard Manet and Monet, identifying them not only as two distinct persons but also crediting the former with the founding of the Impressionism technique while giving Claude his due for actually giving it a name:

Claude_Monet,_Water_Lilies,_ca._1915-1926 — *Water Lilies*, a late period painting by **Claude Monet**, circa 1915-26. (Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art)

Monet_in_Garden,_New_York_Times,_1922 — Monet, right, in his garden at Giverny, 1922. (*New York Times*)

Another much younger notable of the age, Ernest Hemingway, was the talk of literary society on both sides of the Atlantic with the publication of his latest novel, The Sun Also Rises. According to the New Yorker’s Paris correspondent Janet “Genêt” Flanner, the novel was creating a buzz in Montparnasse over the origins of the book’s colorful characters:

Keeping in mind that the Christmas shopping season was still in full swing, Frigidaire thought it the perfect time for New Yorker readers to buy a newfangled electric refrigerator:

And we ring out the year with the final issue of 1926:

a891b86b245caf69b30eda2d09544bba — December 25, 1926 cover by **Rea Irvin.**

It was a tough year for New Yorker film critic “OC”, who summed up his disappointment with the movies by offering a Top Ten list that included only two films:

Variety_(1925_film) — The 1925 German film Variety (released in the U.S. in 1926) was one of only two films worth watching in 1926, according to the *New Yorker’s* film critic. (Wikipedia)

And to close, this cartoon by Helen Hokinson, which in the original magazine filled all of page 14 and therefore had to be printed sideways:

Next Time: 1927-A Year to Remember…

What Price Glory

The silent comedy-drama What Price Glory was a popular film during the final weeks of 1926. Directed by Raoul Walsh, it was based on a popular 1924 play by Maxwell Anderson and Laurence Stallings.

9ce9dbbb683b23ca1336748460e4d7ac — December 11, 1926 cover by **Rea Irvin.**

The film about World War I Marines who are rivals for the affections of a daughter of the local innkeeper proved to be a rare winner with the New Yorker film critic “OC” (anyone know his/her identity?), in a review published in the magazine’s previous issue (Dec. 4, 1926).

The film also gained fame from the fact that although it was silent, the characters could be seen speaking profanities that were not reflected in the title cards. The studio was flooded with calls and letters from enraged lip readers, including the deaf and hearing impaired, who found the profanity between Sergeant Quirt and Captain Flagg offensive.

WhatPriceGlory — **Edmund Lowe, Delores del Rio** and Victor McLaglen in a publicity photo for *What Price Glory?* Lowe and McLaglen portrayed Sgt. Quirt and Cpt. Flagg, rivals for the affections of Charmaine de la Cognac (del Rio). (Fox Film Corporation)

In the Dec. 11 issue, The New Yorker continued its publicity of the film with this drawing in the arts section by Reginald Marsh:

I like the curious little bubble image the artist included in his illustration (above), just in case we aren’t sure what the gentlemen are fighting over.

tumblr_ky2zdm2fB81qa6tny — **Delores del Rio’s** Charmaine character on sheet music featuring the film’s theme song. The film would be rereleased in 1927 with synchronized Movietone sound effects and music. (Brooksies Silent Film Collection)

Other items in the Dec. 11 issue included Morris Markey’s “A Reporter at Large” piece on the newly crowned prizefighter Gene Tunney, who apparently was struggling with fame and wanted to be known for his smarts rather than his fists. Markey wasn’t buying it:

After a number of verbal jabs throughout the piece, Markey included this knockout punch:

jp-TUNNEY1-jumbo — I COULDA BEEN A WRITER…**Gene Tunney**, left, and the writer **George Bernard Shaw** on a 1929 vacation to Brioni, Italy. (Associated Press)

Next Time: The Last Impressionist…

The Sporting Life

One of the strangest things about the fall 1926 issues of The New Yorker is the almost complete absence of baseball coverage, even though the 1926 Yankees had turned things around from an abysmal 1925 season and found themselves in the 1926 World Series against the St. Louis Cardinals.

cb57ca46d50ab47f3acf02be954149b6 — November 20, 1926 cover by **Andre De Schaub**.

The Yankee’s star Babe Ruth had recovered his health from the previous season and played exceptional all-around baseball in 1926, even setting a World Series record of three homers in the fourth game. According to (now disputed) newspaper reports at the time, Ruth had promised a sickly boy named Johnny Sylvester that he would hit a home run for him in Game 4. The papers reported that after Ruth’s three-homers, the boy’s condition miraculously improved.

babe-ruth2_display_image1 — SNUBBED…**Babe Ruth** knocked in three homers during Game 4 of the exciting 1926 World Series, an event completely ignored by the football-crazed New Yorker. (Bronx Banter)

The Yankees would lose the series in seven games (it would be the first of the Cardinals’ 11 WS championships), but nevertheless the season represented a dramatic turnaround for the team.

But The New Yorker was obsessed with college football, mostly Ivy League contests and the exploits of Knute Rockne and his Notre Dame Fighting Irish.

Screen Shot 2016-04-22 at 9.59.31 AM — **Johan Bull** provided lively illustrations for **John Tunis’s** columns.

Sportswriter John Tunis cranked out lengthy accounts of football games, including the Princeton-Yale contest covered in the Nov. 20, 1926 issue.

The same issue also included an article by Herbert Reed, who wrote about Notre Dame’s victory over Army at Yankee Stadium and proclaimed the Fighting Irish to be the greatest team in the country.

The New Yorker caught the Notre Dame bug the previous season. When attendance dropped at Yankee Stadium due to an ailing Babe Ruth and his team’s losing record, college football took center stage at the stadium that fall, with the fiercely competitive Notre Dame–Army game the marquee match-up (the rivals would continue their annual meeting at Yankee Stadium until 1947).

The “other” game–professional football–was still in its infancy, and the editors of “The Talk of Town” made it clear that the college atmosphere was more to their liking. It is interesting that even today when fans compare college to pro football, the same observations are made:

226e0194353a39b57345ede7deaf7634 — STAR ATTRACTION…After playing his first professional season with the Chicago Bears, in 1926 Red Grange joined the short-lived New York Yankees professional football team. (ourgame.mlb)

As for other sports, The New Yorker also offered extensive coverage of tennis, golf, and polo in its issues. And there would also be rowing, boat and auto racing, and steeplechase events such as National Horse Show at Madison Square Garden. An advertisement promoting that event appeared on the inside back cover:

The editors of “Talk of the Town” continued their sad refrain on the city’s changing landscape, the wrecking ball this visiting Gramercy Park:

white house — The Stanford White house referred to in “The Talk of the Town.” ( *Museum of the City of New York)*

white dining room ceiling — The Dining Room ceiling in the Stanford White House came from a 16th century chapel in Florence. *(From the Illustrated Catalogue of the Artistic Furnishings and Interior Decorations of the Residence at No. 121 East Twenty-first Street, New York City, April 1907 (copyright expired)*

gramercy park hotel — Gramercy Park Hotel on the site today. (A Daytonian in Manhattan)

And to close, this terrific advertisment for the Greenwich Village Inn, illustrated by Hans Flato:

Next Time: Holiday Shopping…

Fun With Harold

The Nov. 6, 1926 issue of The New Yorker was actually two issues, one for the newsstands and subscribers and the other a rare parody issue privately published and presented to founding editor Harold Ross on his 34th birthday.

Screen Shot 2016-04-01 at 3.03.49 PM — The cover of the “official” issue (left) for November 6, 1926, was illustrated by **William Troy**, the parody issue by **Rea Irvin.**

The parody issue’s cover featured a silhouette of Ross (drawn by Rea Irvin, as “Penaninsky”) in the pose of dandy Eustace Tilley, looking at spider bearing a strong resemblance to Alexander Woollcott, critic and commentator for The New Yorker who first met Ross overseas when the two worked on the fledgling Stars and Stripes newspaper.

Screen Shot 2016-04-07 at 3.16.19 PM — OLD PALS…**Alexander Woollcott** and **Harold Ross** (Britannica; Jane Grant Collection, University of Oregon)

Ralph Barton’s contribution to the parody issue…

Screen Shot 2016-04-07 at 2.44.38 PM — (From *About Town: The New Yorker and the World It Made*, By Ben Yagoda)

…and an unsigned contribution that took a poke at Ross’s efforts to create efficient procedures at the magazine’s office:

Screen Shot 2016-04-07 at 3.32.46 PM — Excerpt from *Defining New Yorker Humor*, by Judith Yaross Lee

In the other Nov. 6 issue, “The Talk of the Town” editors commented on the death of the famed magician Harry Houdini:

ONE OF HIS FINAL ACTS…**Harry Houdini** appearing before a Senate committee to expose fake spiritualists in February 1926. (wildabouthoudini.com)

“Talk” also noted a new book called Elmer Gantry was being penned by Sinclair Lewis:

The book was a biting satire of the hypocrisy of fanatical preachers during the 1920s. It created a public furor when it was published in 1927. Another “Talk” item mocked the taste of wealthy New Yorkers for the latest exotic gadgets…

…but the same issue was also filled with the usual advertisements appealing to those very same desires of the Smart Set. Here’s a couple of gems, so to speak…

Next Time: The Cotton Club & Other Distractions…

A Royal Flush

Perhaps because they’ve never had a monarchy, Americans have always been a little nuts over European royalty, even the lesser kings and queens.

Screen Shot 2016-03-31 at 9.58.22 AM — October 23, 1926 cover by **Andre De Schaub**.

In the lesser category was the Queen Marie of Romania, whose name and exploits appeared frequently in the pages of the early New Yorker. As early as Issue #4 (March 14, 1925), the magazine was reporting that New Yorkers were “agog” about a possible visit from Her Majesty, and that the North American Newspaper Alliance had offered her a contract to write her impressions of the United States.

queen-marie-of-romania-photo-232 — **Queen Marie of Romania** (Library of Congress)

The Queen filled the pages of both the Oct. 23 and Oct. 30 issues as she finally made her way to the American shores. “Of All Things” observed…

“Trudy” referred to above was New Yorker **Gertrude Ederley**, still basking in her fame as the first woman to swim the English Channel.

Now some background on The Queen: She born into the British royal family, titled Princess Marie of Edinburgh at birth. After refusing a proposal from her cousin (the future King George V), she was chosen as the future wife of Crown Prince Ferdinand of Romania, the heir apparent of King Carol I, in 1892. She was the last Queen consort of Romania, and her trip to the U.S. would prove to be the last months of her reign (her husband, Crown Prince Ferdinand, would die shortly after her return). Her 5-year-old grandson, Michael, the son of Prince Carol, would ascend to the throne, only to be usurped by his father in 1930 (at this writing Michael is still living. He is currently 94 years old).

Things seemed fairly rosy in October 1926, as Americans awaited the queen and two of her children, Prince Nicholas and Princess Ileana, who were said to be seeking matrimonial matches in the States.

1926-1 — **Queen Marie, Princess Ileana,** and Prince Nicholas of Romania on their American tour, 1926. (Henley Hamilton)

The issue’s “Profile” by John Winkler featured a mostly glowing account of Queen Marie…

…although it was noted that Queen has to stoop to writing articles and endorsing products for a little extra cash…

Screenshot 2015-04-21 13.18.41 — The “Queen of Roumania” and her Pond’s Cold Cream endorsement were featured in this April 1925 ad in *Motion Picture* magazine. (Image scan)

And the Queen would also be seeking a few bucks from Uncle Sam…

The Queen’s visit was even on the mind of one cartoonist (still trying ID):

The following week, in the Oct. 30, 1926 issue…

a3dbcac2108e4dce47a2ca56e55b1e62 — October 30, 1926 cover by **Stanley W. Reynolds.**

…the magazine offered an account of the Queen’s arrival, courtesy of writer Morris Markey:

Note the observation about the “sorry trick” played on the Queen’s son, Carol. Markey is referring the fact that Carol had waived his rights to succession. Little did anyone know that “her boy” would one day seize the throne and work to discredit her name.

Markey also wryly noted the Queen’s objective to gain financial support from the U.S., even if her outstretched hand was covered in jewels:

No Movie Queen, but she did have a flair for theatrics…

Next Time: Fun With Harold…

Gentlemen Prefer Blondes?

Despite The New Yorker’s taste for the finer things–polo, opera, classical music–its editors couldn’t resist the pull of popular culture as both spectacle and fodder for mockery of the hoi polloi.

848d031119e0d470956ce963e6e7fb62 — Oct. 9, 1926 cover by **Julian de Miskey**.

And so we have the Oct. 9, 1926 issue with a review of the much-anticipated Broadway play Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, which was based on a surprise bestselling novel by Anita Loos (and illustrated by The New Yorker’s own Ralph Barton). Despite garnering lukewarm reviews from critics, the public loved the adventures of gold-digging flapper Lorelei Lee.

tumblr_l7eu7x4QVv1qcl8ymo1_500 — **Edward Steichen** portrait of **Anita Loos**, 1926. The New Yorker would feature a lengthy, admiring “Profile” of Loos in its Nov. 6, 1926 issue. (Minneapolis Institute of Art)

According to Wikipedia, the book was one of several famous novels published in 1925 to chronicle the Jazz Age, including F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby (which ironically didn’t do so well) and Carl Van Vechten’s Firecrackers. Loos was inspired to write the book after watching a sexy blonde “turn intellectual H. L. Mencken into a lovestruck schoolboy.” Mencken, a close friend of Loos, actually enjoyed the work and saw to it that it was published.

nypl.digitalcollections.ab6c9cc0-81c6-da79-e040-e00a1806702e.001.w — Gold-digging flapper Lorelei Lee (**June Walker**, second from left), **Henry Spofford** (Frank Morgan, second from right), and the rest of the cast tussle in the stage production *Gentlemen Prefer Blondes*, Times Square Theatre, 1926. Another “blonde,” **Marilyn Monroe**, would famously portray Lorelei Lee in the 1953 **Howard Hawks** film. (New York Public Library)

Ralph Barton contributed this drawing of June Walker for the magazine’s review:

And a bit of the review itself…

In other items, Lois Long paid a visit to Texas Guinan’s 300 Club on 54th Street, which apparently was still the place to go for a roaring good time:

texasguinanpolice — JUST HAVING FUN…According to the blog *Ephemeral New York*, **Texas Guinan’s** 300 Club at 151 West 54th Street hosted the likes of **John Barrymore, George Gershwin,** and Clara Bow. The club was targeted by prohibition officials, who were constantly padlocking the door and arresting Texas. Guinan’s clever rejoinder to the officials: The 300 Club’s patrons brought liquor with them, and because the place was so small, the showgirls were forced to dance close to customers. (*Ephemeral New York*)

The magazine’s cartoons continued to mine the humor of rich old men out on the town with their young flapper mistresses. The one below was a center spread illustration by Wallace Morgan with the caption: “Poor little girl–to think you’ve never had anyone to protect you.”

Finally, a look back at one of my earlier blog posts (Cuban Idyll) that featured Americans in Havana. I recently traveled to Cuba and visited some of the old haunts, including the famed Sloppy Joe’s:

Next Time: The Changing Skyline…

Fight Night in Philly

We skip ahead to the Oct. 2, 1926 issue to look at one of the big events of that year–the Dempsey-Tunney heavyweight prize fight (I’m not skipping issues…Sept. 25 appears later in this blog).

652f917918402a71eb86f6671c9f228a — Oct. 2, 1926 – Issue # 85 – Cover by **Constantin Alajalov**. (Once again, note the ongoing comic reference to androgyny in 20’s fashion)

Heavyweight boxing was a big part of the American sports scene in the 1920s, and two giants of the sport, Jack Dempsey and Gene Tunney, dominated the headlines in the late 1920s thanks to much-heralded bouts in Philadelphia in 1926 and a rematch in Chicago the following year (which would include the famous “long count” incident).

Screen Shot 2016-02-26 at 12.30.40 PM — An estimated 135,000 fans packed Sesquicentennial Stadium in Philadelphia for the Dempsey-Tunney bout. (NYTimes)

The New Yorker joined in on the hoopla, publishing a lengthy account of the match by Waldo Frank (aka “Search-light”), who trained his jaded eye on the whole affair:

MediaStream.ashx — VIEW FROM THE CHEAP SEATS…a rain-soaked throng at the Dempsey-Tunney fight in Philadelphia. (City of Philadelphia)

According to the New York Times, the crowd included such notables as Charlie Chaplin, cowboy movie star Tom Mix and the English Channel swimmer Gertrude Ederle.

Screen Shot 2016-02-26 at 12.13.08 PM — Coverage of Tunney’s victory by unanimous decision took up three-quarters of the front page of *The New York Times,* and also filled most of pages 2 through 7. (*The New York Times*)

But in typical fashion, Waldo was less than dazzled, finding the rain an apt metaphor for a spectacle mostly unseen by those in attendance:

Never one to wallow in tragedy, the magazine made a brief (and oddly droll) reference in “The Talk of the Town” to a hurricane that hit Miami and its environs (it killed 372 people and injured more than 6,000):

Other items of note in the issue included this examination of country vs. city life by cartoonist Barbara Shermund…

…and this cartoon by Al Frueh commenting on the challenges of Manhattan’s rapidly changing cityscape:

The changing city was also on the mind of Reginald Marsh in this illustration he contributed to the Sept. 25, 1926 issue of the magazine:

Back to the Sept. 25 issue, which featured an update from Paris correspondent Janet Flanner…

d9f3d5507a7bade4fc28276d12a63260 — Sept. 25, 1926 – Issue # 84 – Cover by **Constantin Alajalov**.

…who commented on the large number of American tourists crowding the city just as the locals were fleeing for their long, late summer holidays:

She offered some numbers to back up her observations:

3333095832_f6a6fd78cb_o — Janet “Genêt” Flanner (right) and longtime companion **Solita Solano** (center) in Paris, 1921. Solano was a well-known writer and drama critic for the *New York Tribune. (Vintage Everyday)*

And finally, a cartoon by Rea Irvin exploring the trials of the idle rich:

Next Time: Do Gentlemen Prefer Blondes?

Battleship Potemkin

American cinema did little to excite the writers or critics of The New Yorker, who considered European films, and particularly German ones, to be far superior to the glitzy and sentimental fare produced in Hollywood.

c294d1a8fc43b2b1097b9686637a1c6f — Sept. 11, 1926 cover by Eugene Gise.

So when it was announced that Russian/Soviet filmmaker Sergei Eisenstein would be releasing Battleship Potemkin in New York City, the magazine’s editors in “The Talk of the Town” expressed both anticipation for the masterpiece as well as worries that American censors would slice the film to bits or even ban it outright.

The magazine’s film critic “OC” also expressed his concerns regarding censors:

the-battleship-potemkin-2 — IT’S NOT WHAT’S FOR DINNER…Sailors examine maggot-infested meat in the film *Battleship Potemkin. (themoviesnob)*

The film was based on an historical event–a mutiny on the battleship Potemkin that occurred after the crew was served rotten meat for dinner. The sailors rebelled, seized the ship, and then attempted to ignite a revolution in their home port of Odessa, which in turn led to a massacre of citizens by Cossack soldiers on the city’s famed Potemkin Stairs.

OB-LS523_potemk_G_20110110122410 — Mutineers revel in a scene from *Battleship Potemkin. (Wall Street Journal)*

94572-004-3C44F252 — A still from a classic scene in *Battleship Potemkin* that depicts Odessa citizens being massacred by Cossacks on the city’s famous Potemkin Stairs. The image of the unattended baby carriage tumbling down the staircase has been re-created in a number of films, including Brian De Palma’s 1987 *The Untouchables.* (Film 4)

The film would ultimately be released in December of 1926. Perhaps more on that in a later post.

The Sept. 11, 1926 issue also noted the passing of famed silent film star Rudolph Valentino, who died at age 31 of peritonitis and other complications. The “Talk” editors suggested that if anything, it was good for newspaper sales:

Rudolph_Valentino_funeral_2_1926 — FUNERAL FUN…**Rudolph Valentino’s** first funeral in New York (the second was in Beverly Hills) drew a huge crowd of in what was described as a “carnival setting”. More than 100,000 fans filed past his open casket at the Frank E. Campbell funeral home. Windows were smashed as fans tried to get in and an all-day riot erupted on August 24. More than a hundred mounted officers and NYPD’s Police Reserve were deployed to restore order. A phalanx of officers would line the streets for the remainder of the viewing. Some media reports claimed the body on display was a wax dummy, and not “The Sheik” himself. (Wikipedia)

Screen Shot 2016-02-17 at 10.36.41 AM — SWEETHEARTS? **Rudolph Valentino** and **Pola Negri** met in early 1926 at a costume party thrown by **Marion Davies**. Negri claimed she was engaged to be married to the actor at the time of his death. (Wikimedia Commons)

Screen Shot 2016-02-17 at 10.35.37 AM — DIVA MOMENT…**Pola Negri’s** grief-stricken performance at Valentino’s New York funeral was considered by most to be over-the-top, even for a famous diva. Supported by a secretary and press agent (photo above), Pola declared to reporters that she and Valentino were secretly engaged to be married. She posed in dramatic fashion for the reporters and then threw herself, weeping and fainting, on Valentino’s open casket. (flickchick1953)

On the lighter side, The New Yorker men’s fashion columnist “Bowler” offered this observation of a new style suggested by Harpo Marx:

And to close, a couple of advertisements from the Sept. 11 issue…the first is a McCreery & Company ad illustrated by Gluyas Williams. These would become a series, featuring a milquetoast husband facing the daunting task of shopping for his wife, among other challenges…

…and this ad from Park Central Motors, depicting a child who’s all too aware of her standing in society…

Next Time: On the Airwaves…

Come Fly With Me

Since most of us complain about the sad state of air travel these days, it’s nice to get a little historical perspective on this mode of transportation.

60050ce935d82b28520c52109cd715ce — Sept. 4, 1926 cover by **Rea Irvin**.

Ninety years ago the editors of The New Yorker were enamored with passenger air service, even though it was only available to those who were wealthy and had the stomach to actually fly in one of these things:

3987535508_ecfa3ffa6a_b — The May 8, 1925 christening of the Sikorsky “Yorktown.” The “huge” plane is referred to in the Sept. 4, 1926 “Talk of the Town.” (Library of Congress)

In the “Talk of the Town” section, The New Yorker editors marveled at the regular air taxi service available to Manhattanites:

The “huge” Yorktown might look crude to a traveler in 2016, but this was advanced stuff considering the Wright Brothers had made their first flight less than 23 years earlier. Planes like the Yorktown looked less like aircraft we know today and more like a trolley car with wings attached. And that window in the front wasn’t for the pilot. He sat up top in the open air:

5919269221_8df4563424_b — Side view of the Sikorsky “Yorktown.” Note the pilot seated aft of the wings. (Flickr)

But then again, the interiors of these planes were no picnic, either. Imagine sitting in this while crashing through a storm:

HighFlight-Goliath4 — Interior of a Farman Goliath, which would have been similar to the Sikorsky, if not a little nicer. (Historic Wings)

onzaslyyjim7xrzditoc — Another photo of a 1920s passenger flight. As in the preceding photo, note the wicker chairs. And no leg room. These fellows appear to awaiting the showing of an early in-flight movie. At least movies were silent then, because with giant piston engines flanking the cabin you weren’t going hear anything anyway. (Paleofuture)

Other items from the Sept. 4, 1926 “Talk” section included a bit about the former president and then Supreme Court Justice William Howard Taft, and his rather ordinary life in Murray Bay. An excerpt:

1268484_600 — Ex-President, Supreme Court Justice and avid golfer William Howard Taft follows through on the links in this undated photo (jmarkpowell.com)

At the movies, The New Yorker gave a lukewarm review of the much-ballyhooed film Beau Geste:

Mary-Brian-with-Neil-Hamilton-in-Beau-Geste-1926 — AT LEAST SHE HAD A NICE COMPLEXION…**Mary Brian** (dubbed “The Sweetest Girl in Pictures”) with Neil Hamilton in *Beau Geste,* 1926 (classiccinemaimages)

And although Gloria Swanson was one of the biggest stars in the Silent Era, The New Yorker was never a big fan of her films:

MV5BMTk2ODkxOTcxMl5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTYwMjcxMTU2._V1_SX640_SY720_ — **Gloria Swanson** in *Fine Manners,* 1926 (IMDB)

And finally, this advertisement from Houbigant, featuring a drawing of an elegant woman with an impossibly long neck. I wouldn’t want her sitting in front of me at the movies…

Another ad (from the Sept. 11 issue) also depicted this ridiculously giraffe-like neckline:

Next Time…Battleship Potemkin…

Talking Pictures

It was 1926 and another marvel of science—talking pictures—was unveiled to audiences at Broadway’s Warners’ Theatre. It was here that the Warner Brothers launched their ‘Vitaphone’ talkies including The Jazz Singer, which would premiere the following year.

Screen Shot 2016-01-28 at 4.34.57 PM — Aug. 14, 1926 cover by **Ilonka Karasz**.

The Vitaphone soundtrack was not printed on the film itself, but rather recorded separately on phonograph record, the sound synchronized by physically coupling the record turntable to the film projection motor.

VitaphoneDemo — A Vitaphone projection setup at a 1926 demonstration. Engineer **E. B. Craft** is holding a soundtrack disc. The turntable, on a massive tripod base, is at lower center. (University of San Diego History Department)

Don Juan was the first feature-length film to use the Vitaphone system, which was not a continuous soundtrack but rather a sprinkling of sound shorts (the musical score, performed by the New York Philharmonic, and various sound effects) throughout the film. No spoken dialogue was recorded.

First-nighters_posing_for_the_camera_outside_the_Warners'_Theater_before_the_premiere_of_%22Don_Juan%22_with_John_Barrymore,_-_NARA_-_535750 — First-nighters pose outside Warners’ Theatre before the premiere of *Don Juan*, August 6, 1926 (US National Archives)

Produced at a cost of $789,963 (the largest budget of any Warner film up to that point), the film was critically acclaimed and a box-office success. However, and predictably, The New Yorker was not so impressed with Vitaphone…

…or the acting of John Barrymore…

I have to agree with the critic, identified only as O.C., after viewing this TCM clip of the film on YouTube. Lacking a voice, silent actors had to exaggerate emotions onscreen, but Barrymore here is every bit the ham. This screen grab from the clip says it all:

The object of his gaze, Adriana della Varnese (played here by a young Mary Astor), reacts rather dramatically to his advances…can’t say I blame her…(however, the 44-year-old Barrymore and the 20-year-old Astor were having an affair at the time…)

Adriana della Varnese (played here by a young **Mary Astor**), reacts rather dramatically to Don Juan’s advances.

A couple of interesting ads in the Aug. 14, 1926 issue, including this one featuring a couple of sneaky gents who’ve found a solution to life in dry America…

…and this not-too-subtle message from a swanky shop on Fifth Avenue:

Next Time: Time for a Facelift…