While I changed, I tried to learn some names. Slim Summerville was easy — a lamp-post of a man whose clothes threatened to slide off him. Slim's comic foil was Chester Conklin, five foot in his shoes, with eyes like ping-pong balls and a droopy false moustache. I had seen them often on the screen. Frank Hayes, too, was one of the longer-serving Cops, and by the look of him he had served a long time somewhere else before he joined them. He must have been well past sixty, skinny, pink-faced and

  KEYSTONE

  acutely proud of the peaked cap that made him senior man.

  We moved off together and assembled on the largest outdoor stage. Our director was already there in conversation with the cameraman, Jake Harper.

  'Come on,' said Hayes. 'He'd like to meet you.'

  So I was introduced to Murray Brennan. He shook my hand with a firm no-nonsense grip. 'How are you? Your first picture? I can promise you some laughs. Nice to meet you, Keystone.'

  Our conversation had to end there. I liked his voice, redolent of Ireland and draught Guinness in comfortable pubs. His shape was keglike, too. That hadn't stopped him from dressing as a film director should. Boots and jodphurs, white shirt, red bowtie, black and white check cap. Between the bowtie and the cap was a pudgy freckled face with blue eyes magnified by pebble glasses.

  By the time I rejoined the Cops, Brennan was standing on a chair addressing us through a megaphone. He began with introductions. 'Amber Honeybee's pretty face', he told us, 'is well known around the studios, and her name will soon be equally familiar, as Roscoe Arbuckle's newest leading lady. There they are together, folks.'

  We all looked to where Arbuckle stood with Amber, who was in a maid's blue and white costume. They both smiled and Amber gave a modest wave.

  The next to be introduced was an infant boy called Arnold, who at two years old, Brennan told us, was already a veteran of three motion pictures. Arnold's mother held him high. Arnold sucked his thumb and looked malevolent.

  'Finally,' said Brennan, 'there's a new officer on the roll of the Keystone Cops. I'm not kidding when I say his name is Keystone. Would you stand up, Keystone?'

  Behind me Charlie Conklin said, 'Hold on to him, fellas

  KEYSTONE

  — don't want him to fall.'

  While they laughed, I rose and touched my helmet.

  Thank you,' said Brennan. 'Sounds like the Cops have already taken you in hand, Keystone. Now let's talk about the movie. It's a simple kidnap story with the usual chase. Amber plays a nursemaid. Her employer sends her to the park with baby Arnold. There, Amber is distracted by a fat guy fooling with the ducks. No prize for guessing who plays him. While this is going on, the heavy — that's Mack Swain, of course — steals the kid. Fatty pursues him in his old tin lizzie while Amber calls the Cops. Naturally, when they come on the scene, they arrest the wrong guy. The heavy makes off in Fatty's automobile with Amber and the baby. The cops take up the chase, with predictable confusion. But Amber is not so loopy as the lawmen. She has left a trail by unravelling the wool from baby Arnold's clothes. The story reaches its spectacular conclusion in the villain's hideout. He has bound and gagged poor Amber.' Here Brennan paused.

  The company obliged with a shout of, 'Ooh!'

  'And the baby has no clothes left.'

  'Aah!'

  'But when the Cops arrive, he takes baby on the roof.'

  'Ooh!'

  'You've got the drift, boys and girls. We shoot interiors today, tomorrow morning. In the afternoon, we're on location in the park. Wednesday, on the roof of a house on Allesandro Street. Thursday is reserved to re-shoot anything we don't like in the rushes. Friday is the chase.'

  Slim Summerville explained to me, 'It's studio policy to shoot the chase on the last day.'

  'Why is that?'

  He mimed a man on crutches. 'So they don't have to recast the movie.'

  I grinned, but I was fairly certain he was serious.

  KEYSTONE

  'We won't be wanted for a couple of hours,' Chester Conklin told me. 'Care for a game of poker with the boys?'

  Thank you, but I don't altogether care for gambling.'

  Summerville smiled. 'You picked the wrong job, Keystone. See you later.'

  I watched the rehearsals for the opening scene. The set was the interior of a handsome drawing room. The lady of the house was played by Alice Davenport, an actress of dowager appearance. The script required that she should be exasperated by little Arnold's tantrums. The child filled his role impeccably, seated in the middle of the set, punishing a rubber duck by beating it repeatedly against the floor and finally hurling it at Alice Davenport. She pulled a bell-rope.

  Amber made her entrance. She sailed in like Bernhardt as Cleopatra.

  'Stop there a moment, ladies,' Brennan told them. 'Amber, my dear, I love the costume. Could you also convey your servant status through your movement?'

  'You want me to curtsey?'

  'No, my dear, just play it with a little more restraint. Let's try it again from when Alice rings the bell.'

  Alice rang the bell eleven times before Amber sacceeded in toning down her entrance to a passable imitation of a nursemaid.

  'Fine,' said Brennan patiently. 'We'll move on. Alice, would you give the maid her orders, please? Move upstage a fraction, Amber. We want to see the child as well.'

  After they had rehearsed it once, he said, 'I liked it, Alice. Amber, my dear, it would carry more conviction if you looked at Alice while she spoke to you.'

  'Don't you want to show my face from different angles?' Amber asked.

  'That's not tne point, my dear.'

  KEYSTONE

  'I don't like to contradict you, but it is. If you only show my left profile, the audience will get the wrong idea.'

  'And what's that, Amber?'

  They'll think I'm just the servant.'

  Brennan glanced at his script. 'That's what you are, my dear.'

  'Mr Brennan, there's something I'd like to clarify right now. Am I the leading lady in this movie?'

  'That is my understanding.'

  'In that case, will you kindly allow me to make contact with my public?'

  'What do you mean, exactly?'

  'This is my debut as a leading player. I intend to be noticed from the start.'

  'You're telling us!' murmured Alice Davenport.

  'Did you say something?' demanded Amber.

  'Ladies, let's take a break at this point,' Brennan said rapidly. 'Would someone remove this child, so we can hear ourselves?' He stepped forward for some private conversation with his cast.

  The cameraman, Jake Harper, commented to me, 'Relax. At this rate, you won't be working at all today. Maybe I won't either.'

  'The matter seems a crucial one,' I said. 'Perhaps a few minutes now to reach an understanding will save hours of discussion later.'

  Harper jerked his head aside and spat on the ground. 'He'd damn soon reach an understanding with that one with the end of a strap.'

  'You're speaking figuratively, I presume?'

  'Presume anything you like, pal.'

  It presently grew obvious that Murray Brennan was coming under stress. He produced a spotted handkerchief and held it to his forehead. He asked repeatedly for water. Scene One had looked straightforward in the script, but it

  KEYSTONE

  was turning out to be a minefield. Amber was determined to dominate the stage, whatever direction or advice he gave her. The rehearsals mounted up. Little Arnold grew more fractious than the script required. Alice Davenport announced that she was wanted on another stage. She had been scheduled for one scene only, and it ought to have been shot inside an hour. Brennan did his best to pacify her. He had someone fetch an icecream for the child. By lunch the scene was still not ready for the camera.

  When we returned from lunch, Alice Davenport was missing. She arrived ten minutes late, with Mack Sennett at her side. They spoke to Brennan. There were histrionic gestures from Miss Davenport. Brennan took off his cap and rotated it in his hands. Sennett swayed and growled. On the set, Amber passed the time playing peek-a-boo with little Arnold.

  The consultation ended. Brennan put the megaphone to his mouth. 'Prepare to shoot Scene One. Take your positions, please.'

  Jake Harper said in disbelief, 'You want me to crank it like it is?'

  'That's what I said.'

  Harper shrugged and got behind his camera.

  Sennett stood back to watch. He hunched his shoulders and let his head jut forward, like Hackenschmidt the wrestler. No-one went near him.

  'Action! Camera!' called Brennan, then, 'Hold it! Something's wrong.'

  There was a paralysing moment when everyone believed that our director's nerve had snapped.

  'The duck!' he said. 'The kid hasn't got his rubber duck.'

  The tension eased, but only briefly. An embarrassed search was mounted for the toy. Everyone but Sennett joined in. He watched without a flicker of amusement. I

  KEYSTONE

  made a private note that there were things at Keystone that were comical and there were things that were not. It was wise to know the difference.

  After five minutes, one of the crew was despatched to the Edendale General Stores to buy a replacement duck. Morale was sinking. Suspicions of a wrecker in the company could not be discounted.

  When it was finally shot, the scene did little credit to the morning's work. Amber appeared to ignore or forget all that had been agonised over in rehearsal. She reverted to her Cleopatra entrance. She simpered at the camera. When the moment came for her to lift up Arnold, she held him with his back to the camera. As she exited, she bounced the child against the door, through trying to keep her face in shot.

  'Cut,' said Brennan in a voice of deep despair. He turned towards Sennett with his hands outspread.

  Sennett said, 'Print it.' His blank face dared anyone to challenge him. He ambled off towards the tower.

  That's all I wanted to hear,' said Alice Davenport. 'Nothing personal, Murray. 'Bye, everyone.'

  The order was given to strike the set. While the propmen worked, disbelieving actors and camera crew debated whether Sennett's mind had wandered while the scene was played. He usually demanded something near perfection. The scene had been a travesty. A theory was advanced that he would cut it from the picture, that Alice Davenport had convinced him it would never work.

  Looking as fragile as a fat man can, Brennan called his company together. The new set was the villain's hideout.

  The chase is over at this time,' he told them. The kidnapper has brought the nursemaid and the child to this house. The scene requires that Amber is upstairs, bound hand and foot, and gagged.'

  'Should help a little,' Jake Harper commented to me.

  KEYSTONE

  As it emerged, there were no serious problems. Mack Swain, a Falstaffian figure with an exaggerated black moustache, played his customary role as heavy. He worked well with Arnold. He improvised a comedy routine by trying to snatch the duck away from the child, to send it with the ransom note. Arnold would not be parted from it. He kept hold of his duck and grabbed the note, tearing it to pieces. He tweaked Mack Swain's moustache. The fight between the big man and the kid brought peals of laughter from everyone around the stage. Brennan had sensibly told Harper to crank it from the start, so it was filmed first time.

  The next sequence featured the Keystone Cops. We were supposed to strike terror into Swain by running past the window.

  'Do we have the Cops?' asked Brennan without much confidence.

  'Just one, apparently,' said his assistant.

  Everyone looked to me for an explanation.

  'The thought occurs to me,' I improvised, 'that it might be comical to show a single helmet move stealthily past the window at the level of the sill. We could repeat it several times.'

  'Say, that's not bad,' said Swain. 'I could do something with it.'

  'Let's try it, then,' Brennan said and added wearily. 'Who wants to break up the studio poker school just to shoot a motion picture?'

  So I went behind the scenery and prac; ied creeping past the window, crawling back unseen, and repeating the manoeuvre. Mack Swain soon developed a routine. The first time, he scarcely moved an eye to register that the helmet had moved across. At the second sighting, he twitched his head like a chicken. At the third, he turned it slowly, following the movement. He then dived under the

  KEYSTONE

  kitchen table.

  We tried variations. Once I passed the window in the reverse direction, another time I turned my head to look inside.

  'Shoot everything/ Brennan told his cameraman. 'We can tidy up this scene in the cutting room.'

  By the finish, most of the absent Cops had returned to the stage. They joined in the laughter at my capers and Swain's reactions. 'You guys can thank Keystone for letting you off the hook,' Brennan lectured them when it was over. 'Next time any of you goes missing, I'll have the boss show you the gate.'

  No-one believed him. He was too soft-hearted.

  When I left the players' building at the end of the day, Mack Swain stepped in beside me.

  'Just out of interest,' he said, 'You knew that window routine would get some laughs, didn't you? It was in your mind before I said a thing.'

  'Is that of any consequence?' I said.

  'There are guys with burlesque in the blood. Not many.'

  'I'm glad to hear it. It sounds distressing.'

  Swain smiled. 'Don't deny it, Keystone — you're a natural clown. Why don't you speak to Sennett, see if you can get a character part? You're going to be wasted in the Cops.'

  I tried to look surprised.

  KEYSTONE

  one of us noticed Amber. We all ran out and slammed the door, but it opened again and one Cop came back. He was Slim Summerville. He stood in front of the mirror and straightened his helmet. Then he ran out again.

  'Cut,' ordered Brennan. That's good enough for me, boys. Nice to be back on schedule. Get some lunch now. This afternoon is free for you. I want to shoot the park scene. That's just Mack, Amber, baby Arnold and a couple of extras. No Cops.'

  'And tomorrow we do the rooftop sequence?' said Hayes.

  'Allesandro Street. Which of you can walk on stilts?'

  There was hesitation, then Slim Summerville said, 'I have this irrational fear of heights.'

  Hayes said, 'My knee joints ain't so good these days.'

  Brennan's eyes narrowed. He was smiling and it pushed his cheeks upwards. 'Don't feed me that old corn. Listen, guys, this is a damn good stunt. The Cops place a ladder against the side of the house and start climbing to the roof to save the kid, but the rungs are rotten. Three of the cops do pratfalls, and one is left up there. Then the sides of the ladder start to separate. Get it? He keeps his footing on a couple of stumps, and, what do you know, he's walking on stilts. Terrific gag — who's doing it?'

  To a man, the Cops turned and looked at me.

  'What do you say, Keystone?' asked Brennan.

  I glanced towards Amber. 'I say it's insensitive in the extreme to keep Miss Honeybee shackled to this bed while we discuss tomorrow's stunts.'

  'Christ, she went clean out of my mind!' said Brennan, genuinely perturbed. 'Amber, honey, how could I do this to you? Quick, you guys, untie the lady.'

  The Cops did as they were asked. Brennan helped. By tacit agreement it was left to him to loosen Amber's gag. Shaking his head and babbling apologies, he fumbled with

  KEYSTONE

  the knotted scarf until it fell away.

  Instead of the howls of execration everyone expected, all that Amber said was, 'May I have a drink of water?'

  'Water for Miss Honeybee!' commanded Brennan with the force of a man astonished to have recovered the initiative. 'See it has ice in it. You wouldn't like something stronger, Amber? Gee, your poor wrists!' He took one of her arms and massaged it with his fingertips. 'You must let me take you to lunch. My wife is coming in. I know she'd love to meet you,'

  'That's kind,' said Amber with a tone of voice suggesting she was about to add something else. She turned her eyes in my direction. 'Could Keystone join us, please?'

  'Sure,' said Brennan. 'Anything you want, my dear.'

  This caught me by surprise. Even in America I wasn't used to luncheon invitations from attractive actresses I scarcely knew.

  'Thank you,' I said. 'I'm honoured.'

  I don't mind admitting I was intrigued as well. The first time we had met she was simply someone who had helped me find my way. Americans were like that, women as well as men. Only this was more positive than help. Amber had made it obvious that she desired my company.

  My senses quickened. I was suddenly, acutely, absorbed-ly aware of her. Her neck. The exposed part where her ringlets had been lifted and fitted under the nursemaid's cap. Wayward hairs so fine that they stirred each time she moved. So blonde that it took the sunlight to discover them.

  'Easy, Keystone,' said Frank Hayes. 'Even your buttons are steaming over.'

  We were given a table at the smart end of the studio restaurant. Amber and I were introduced to Murray Bren-nan's wife. Louise was younger than her husband, about thirty-five. A pale, long, well-powdered face under a large

  KEYSTONE

  lilac-coloured hat. Beryl-blue eyes that hardly blinked at all. Light brown hair in artificial curls. A parasol to match the hat. Pastel pink gown and gloves.

  Murray told her, 'Amber is our newest leading lady and Keystone is our newest Cop. Aren't you pleased to meet them?'

  'If it means we are spared the company of a certain uncouth individual, I'm more than pleased,' Louise said, turning her eyes to another table where Mack Sennett was holding court.

  'Careful dear,' Murray cautioned her. 'He may shout a lot, but he isn't deaf, you know.' He signalled to a waitress. 'We'd better order — I don't have too much time.'

  'That's nothing new,' said Louise. 'I'll have the fish, and ask them not to smother it with sauce.' She turned to to Amber. 'I hQtffe you aren't compelled to work the appalling hours my husband does.'

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18