JOHN AND ROSE
Chapter Thirty

October 24, 1929

"Cut!"

Rose pulled off the silver wig she wore for the small role she had cast herself in for her latest picture, an adaptation of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, where she was playing Aunt Sally to Christopher’s Huck. Her son had become a skilled actor over the past few years, having inherited her talent and love of acting. He also displayed some talent for art, which he used to help design and build sets. She was proud of the young man he was becoming, glad that he had inherited the best attributes of both of his parents. His presence in her pictures was a strong selling point as well, attracting the attention of young girls throughout the country.

Right now, though, things weren’t going as smoothly as she wanted. Her son was one of the few people doing what he was supposed to do, and the rest of the cast—most of whom were older and presumably more mature than her sixteen-year-old son—were more concerned with things other than their acting. The crew wasn’t much better, but at least they weren’t on camera.

She turned to her assistant, Polly, tugging irritably at the cap she wore over her now-short red hair. "What now?"

"You’re doing fine, and so is Christopher, but Rowena is drunk again and everyone else keeps forgetting what they’re supposed to do and turning to look at that damned stock ticker."

Rose sighed. She had been so caught up in her role that she hadn’t paid too much attention to exactly what the others were doing. Since everyone else was just in the background at the moment, and the main part of the scene revolved around herself and Christopher, she had paid attention to her own work, not to everyone else’s.

Setting the wig back on her head, Rose whistled loudly to get everyone’s attention. People jumped, startled, and then gathered around her, some looking a little bit guilty. A few continued to stare at the ticker, worry evident in their faces, and Rowena took another swig from her soda pop bottle, which, Rose suspected, contained more liquor than soda.

Motioning Polly to her side, Rose turned to face the cast. "What is wrong with all of you?" she asked, staring at each of the cast members in turn.

Rowena took another gulp from her bottle, prompting Rose to take it from her. As she had suspected, it smelled strongly of bootleg liquor. "See me after filming," she hissed at her, flinging the nearly-empty bottle into a garbage can.

Rowena scowled at her and stomped off, not replying. Rose had already warned her about being drunk on the set, and wouldn’t tolerate it this time.

Rose sighed, fearing that she would have to recast the slave girl role Rowena had been playing. She had already incurred the wrath of a number of people by casting black actors in the roles of the black characters—people that she had had to travel to find, since there were so few black people in Cedar Rapids, and only one of them had the skills required for film-acting. Some people had asked her why she didn’t simply use white actors in blackface, but Rose’s reply was always the same—she preferred to make her films appear as realistic as possible, and blackface wasn’t realistic. In addition, those actors that she had considered to perform the roles in blackface had invariably adopted a buffoon act for their characters, something that did not match Rose’s interpretation of the story. The characters in the book had been satirized, to be sure, but only some had been buffoons—and those had been characters of either race, black or white.

She looked at the rest of the cast, a number of whom where still sneaking glances at the ticker. "Look, everyone," Rose began. "I cast you to act in a movie set before the Civil War. There were no tickers then. This concern over finances is all well and good—but not when you’re supposed to be working on something else. You are here to act, not to watch that stupid ticker. You’re making me sorry I had it installed."

One of the actors, who was playing the con man known as the Duke, shook his head. "The market has been falling precipitously. People can’t help but be concerned. Some of us have a lot of money tied up in stocks."

Rose sighed. "I understand that. Really, I do. I have some investments there, too—but it isn’t going to help your financial situation any to lollygag while there’s work to be done. We have to work together to make this picture—and if need be, I’ll remove that ticker to make you stop looking at it. Does everyone understand?" She looked around the assembled group, looking each of the guilty cast members in the eye.

The man playing Jim, the runaway slave, spoke up. "I don’t have any money invested in the market—I didn’t have enough until I got this job—but my brother up in New York does. He doesn’t have much more than me, but he doesn’t have any kids, so he put some in. If he loses everything, I might wind up with him and his screeching wife living with me, so I’m hoping that it doesn’t collapse. I like my brother fine, but his wife…" He shook his head, not saying more.

The woman playing Miss Watson spoke up. "I don’t think we really need to worry. The government will bail us out, I’m sure."

A young woman playing a slave shook her head. "I’ve never seen the government do much good for disasters. I’ll bet they have money in the stock market, too. Whatever they do will probably make it worse."

"You have no call to criticize the government that way!"

"Why not? I wasn’t even allowed to vote, even though I am twenty-one."

"A good thing, too, with your attitude."

"That’s enough!" Rose shouted, startling the two women out of their debate. "We are here to make a movie, not to fight over politics. Do that on your own time. Now, everyone take a fifteen minute break. Someone give Rowena some coffee and see if you can sober her up. When you come back, I want you in character, ready to act. No looking at the ticker, no catfights over politics, and no liquor. Is everyone clear on this?"

A few people grumbled, but most agreed, dispersing for their break. One of the camera assistants poured some coffee for Rowena, who was sitting sullenly on one of the set pieces, glaring at Rose.

Rose approached the young actress, keeping her distance in case the drunken girl decided to lash out. "Rowena, what’s going on? I’ve spoken to you before about being drunk on the set."

Rowena just looked at her sullenly, not touching her coffee. "I don’t have to tell you anything."

"You don’t have to be in this picture, either." Rose stared back at her. "This is the third time this has happened. I’ll let you finish this picture, since your role is small, but you won’t be working for me again unless you get sober and stay that way."

"It’s your fault."

"Excuse me?"

"It’s your fault. Nobody’ll give me a break. I thought you were different."

"Rowena, there aren’t any large roles for women in this picture. I have a small role, too."

"You’re already a big star. I’m not getting anywhere."

"Neither are most people in this business. Face it, Rowena, we all have to pay our dues, and most actors will never make it big. My stepdaughter is in this business, too, in Hollywood, and she works just as hard as anyone else. You have the potential to make it big…"

"Black people never make it big."

"Not often, at least not now, but who knows what the future will hold? Things are always changing."

"Yeah…when I’m old and gray."

Rose sighed, crossing her arms and staring at the young woman. "You’re talented and beautiful—two very important traits in this business. But that drinking will keep you down more than any prejudice. You’re only harming yourself. To top it off, liquor is illegal in this country, even if it is readily available if you know where to look."

Polly approached them, bullhorn in hand. Rowena turned her sullen gaze to the assistant director.

"She can’t act worth a damn, but you gave her a directing job."

"Acting and directing are not the same thing. Do you want to try it?" Rose offered. "I’d be glad for your input if you would."

"I want to be an actress," Rowena snapped, finally taking a sip of the coffee.

"Then act. But don’t blame other people for a problem that is yours alone. I don’t make you drink, and even if you can’t give up your liquor, you can refrain from being drunk on the set."

"I can stop anytime."

"Then do so, or I won’t work with you—and chances are, neither will anyone else, once they find out."

"Are you gonna tell them?"

"Probably not. I don’t need to. You’re quite capable of showing them that yourself."

Rowena scowled at her, recognizing the truth of her words but not wanting to accept them. She took a gulp of coffee, getting up and walking unsteadily away. Rose and Polly watched her go, Rose shaking her head.

"Are you going to recast her role?" Polly asked, walking beside Rose as they returned to the director’s chairs.

Rose shook her head. "No. Her part is a small one, and I don’t have time to go looking for another actress. I’m going to offer contracts to most of the people who came to be in this picture, since most are reliable enough and are good actors. I have a small child at home, so I don’t want to travel too much, looking for actors. If I can hire some people permanently, it will make it much easier."

"Are you going to offer Rowena one?"

"No. She’s proven herself unreliable. If she were to give up the drinking, and stay sober, I might consider it. As it is, she has talent and beauty, but she’s sullen, hard to work with, and much too fond of her bootleg liquor."

"It can be hard to quit, though. God knows, my father tried to quit more than once, usually after Mama threw him out, but he never could stay away from his whiskey for long."

"I know, but every person is different. Some can stop, and if Rowena is one of them, she’s welcome to try acting here again."

"You’re a really kind person, Rose. Not many would give her such a chance."

"A long time ago, people took a chance on me, a widow with a young son. How can I not give other people a chance, if I think they might succeed?"

Polly nodded, knowing that she would never have achieved her position without Rose. She had left her home in a small Vermont town when she was fifteen, three years before, heading for Hollywood with three dollars to her name, hoping to make it as a movie star.

It hadn’t happened. No matter how hard she worked, who she met, or how many auditions she attended, she could never get any role outside of an extra in a crowd scene. Part of it was her appearance—she was large-boned and heavy-set, not matching the Hollywood standard of beauty no matter how hard she tried. This might not have precluded her acting in smaller parts, minor roles, but she was nearly devoid of acting talent, and had no training at all. There was no dearth of girls in her position—would-be starlets from all over the country, and even from foreign countries, so she had been unable to compete. Standard beauty might have helped, since many an audience overlooked lack of talent to admire a pretty face, and training might have helped her get by, but she had neither, and hadn’t the money to pay for training or beauty aids in any case.

Polly had met Mary Calvert on the set of a motion picture where Mary had a small role. The two had gotten to talking, and soon became friends. That summer, Mary had come home to Cedar Rapids for a couple of weeks, and Polly had joined her, hoping that Mary’s stepmother would be able to help her.

Rose had shaken her head helplessly at Polly’s attempts at acting. She had garnered some experience as a drama teacher with the local schools, assisting with school plays and talking to the students about her career, but Polly Markman was beyond her skills. An experienced teacher might have been able to help—but Rose doubted it. Polly froze up, her voice turning to a monotone when confronted with a script, and she was too stiff and shy to act well in non-speaking roles.

She had given Polly her opinion, suggesting that she try some other way of making a living, much to the eighteen-year-old’s disappointment. She had finally relented enough, however, to allow Polly and Mary to watch her filming the first scenes of the Huckleberry Finn movie, and that was when Polly had displayed a talent that none of them had considered before—directing.

Polly had watched Rose directing the actors with interest, and before she had considered that her opinion might not be welcome, had volunteered her thoughts on the scene. Rose had been intrigued, and, on impulse, she had allowed Polly to direct a scene, to see what she could do.

Polly may not have been able to act, but she had a definite talent for directing. Rose had allowed her to help until it was time for Polly and Mary to return to Hollywood, and then had offered Polly a directing internship, so that she could develop her talents. Polly had accepted, and had been Rose’s assistant since.

Polly picked up the script, looking it over as the actors reassembled to try filming the scene again. Some still glanced at the ticker, worrying over their investments, but a sharp word from Rose sent them hurrying to their places. Polly looked over the equipment, and, satisfied that everything was ready, looked to Rose.

Rose nodded, taking her place on the set again, as Polly signaled the crew. "Action!" she called, and the filming of the scene began once again.

Chapter Thirty-One
Stories