out of a movie studio—much more than I do out of most of the product thereof. I thoroughly enjoy the stars who absolutely cannot do their stuff without soft music playing on the set; the puttee-wearing directors who refuse to look at their daily rushes without ditto music in the projection room; the yesmen who hang about the executives and hold their jobs by simply being constantly affirmative; the upstage female stars who come to work with maids, chauffeurs, secretaries, lap dogs and what-not; the dare-devil, underpaid doubles who do the wild rides and wilder airplane jumps for the milk-fed leads; the "gag men" who furnish all the surefire hokum; the director who hurls away the scenario with the contemptuous remark, "What does an author know about a good story?" and adds that his best pictures have been made without any story at all; the actors who act both before and away from the camera; the hungry-looking extras hoping they are "the type"; the trained cats, hounds, horses, lions, monkeys, etc., that work oftener and harder and get and deserve more money than most of the actors; the hard-boiled camera men and electricians who think everything is all wrong; the producer, late of the cloak and suit industry, who is positive Scott's "The Lady of the Lake" was written for Annette Kellermann; the sleepless property man who incessantly tells the joke about the undertaker who used to be a director refusing to bury his first
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