CHAPTER XXI

SO BLINKER ROLLS UP THE SHIRTSLEEVES OF HIS MIND, AND BECOMES AN IDEALIST TOO.

66—A show (Slide).

Good comedy to get some people coming down a slide, with Blinker and Florence among them.

67—Bottom of slide.

Blinker and Florence get out, gay as can be—and as they stroll off, there is a touch of sentiment.

Leader—

THE PARTING.

68—Park entrance. Night.

Blinker and Florence. She stops him. He wants to go on with her, but she says:

Cut-in leader—

"I MUST LEAVE YOU HERE. I DON'T WANT TO SPOIL THE FAIRYLAND BY SHOWING YOU—'BRICKDUST ROW.'"He tries to persuade her. She is firm. Another "date" for tomorrow. Off she goes. He the other way.

"I MUST LEAVE YOU HERE. I DON'T WANT TO SPOIL THE FAIRYLAND BY SHOWING YOU—'BRICKDUST ROW.'"

He tries to persuade her. She is firm. Another "date" for tomorrow. Off she goes. He the other way.

69—Room.

Florence in—lights up. Sits to dream of happy day.

70—Blinker's apartment. Lit up.

Blinker in to find Simonds waiting. Dismisses man, who might interrupt dream of happy day by proffer of something—comedy chase out, then Blinker back to smoke and smile.

71—Florence's room. Gas-lit.

Florence rises to remove dress, pauses to look at herself in mirror—girlish vanity.

Leader—

WHEN GANG-LEADER MEETS GANG-LEADER—

72—Front of "Brickdust Row." Night.

Bill sauntering. Pauses to light cigarette. A rival gang-leader comes on. Flash—pistols—bang—other man fires first. Bill wings him and turns.

73—Corner. Night.

"Cop" hears shooting. Listens to locate it.

74—Front of "Row." Night.

Bill hides gun in coat. Dodges into door.[52]

75—Corner. Night.

"Cop" looking around—sees—

76—Front of "Row." Night.

Man lying still.

77—Corner. Night.

"Cop" blows whistle and runs off.

78—Hall. Gas-lit.

Bill listening. Up the stairs! He may get away!

79—Front row. Night.

"Cop" and others gather about man. Several "cops" on at a run.

80—Ella's room. Gas-lit.

Bill looks in doorway. Florence at mirror, about to loosen dress. Turns. Bill comes in. He says:

Cut-in leader—

"LISTEN, SIS—A GUY CROAKED ANOTHER FELLOW—A COP THINKS I DONE IT—I DIDN'T—SO HELP ME GOD!"He is so pathetic in his fright that she is torn with sympathy.

"LISTEN, SIS—A GUY CROAKED ANOTHER FELLOW—A COP THINKS I DONE IT—I DIDN'T—SO HELP ME GOD!"

He is so pathetic in his fright that she is torn with sympathy.

81—"Cops" before "Brickdust Row." Night.

"Cops" decide to look in house—go in.

82—Ella's room. Gas-lit.

Florence moves close to Bill and finds gun. He nods—says:

Cut-in leader—

"THAT'S WHY I'M SCARED—IF THEY FIND IT THEY'LL PINCH ME—"[53]She nods. Both start, as at a sound.

"THAT'S WHY I'M SCARED—IF THEY FIND IT THEY'LL PINCH ME—"[53]

She nods. Both start, as at a sound.

83—Hall. Gas-lit.

"Cop" bounding up the stairs.

84—Ella's room. Gas-lit.

Bill in terror. Florence sees the abject fear in his eyes, and the tenderness and protective sympathy of her nature are instantly roused. Dropping the gun in a table drawer, and sitting down, she motions Bill to sit opposite, and command himself. She picks up needlework, and proceeds to chat with Bill as unconcernedly as if he were a constant visitor at the place.

85—Outside the door of Ella's room. Gas light in room; dimmer light in hall.

The "cop" comes softly to door, listens, and then pushes door quietly inward.

86—Ella's room. Gas-lit.

As the police officer opens the door and looks in, Florence is quietly sewing, and Bill is leaning back, at his ease, though it is an effort for him to be unconcerned. He is smoking. The officer hesitates. Hold suspense of situation.

87—Front of "Row." Night.

Ambulance attendants busy over man. Street crowd being driven away by several policemen.

88—Ella's room. Gas-lit.

The officer moves forward, his eyes on Bill. Florence does not betray the slightest sign of dismay. She looks at the intruder as much in reproof as in surprise. Her steady look disconcerts the policeman; he shuffles, clears his throat, and explains his search, glancing toward Bill. Florence says:

Cut-in leader—

"LIVING IN THE BACK OF THE HOUSE WE DON'T HEAR MUCH—OR MY BROTHER WOULD HAVE GONE DOWN TO SEE WHAT WAS UP."Bill takes up the lead she gives by pretending eagerness as to what happened, but the officer, after a hasty look out over the fire escape, turns and hurries from the room. Bill sighs relievedly, and looks at Florence with the same sort of light in his eyes that one sees in those of a faithful dog. This dog-like devotion is to be the developing keynote of Bill's character.

"LIVING IN THE BACK OF THE HOUSE WE DON'T HEAR MUCH—OR MY BROTHER WOULD HAVE GONE DOWN TO SEE WHAT WAS UP."

Bill takes up the lead she gives by pretending eagerness as to what happened, but the officer, after a hasty look out over the fire escape, turns and hurries from the room. Bill sighs relievedly, and looks at Florence with the same sort of light in his eyes that one sees in those of a faithful dog. This dog-like devotion is to be the developing keynote of Bill's character.

89—Roof of house. Night.

Policeman comes up on roof, looking around.

90—Ella's room. Gas-lit.

Bill is thanking Florence. She tells him that she will go down and see whether the coast is clear, and he sits down with a grateful look as she goes quietly out.[54]

91—Front of "Row." Night. From the tenement doorway.

The injured man is being made to stand. Florence comes into the scene, pausing on stoop ofthe "Row" and watches as the injured party feigns great pain, and gasps:

Cut-in leader—

"HONEST—HE NEAR CROAKED ME. I'M DYIN'—ALL SHOT TO PIECES. AN' THE WORST IS I DIDN'T GIT A CHANST TO SHOOT BACK AT HIM."The ambulance men laugh and tell him to be on his way; he is more scared than hurt. Florence's face becomes tense. Her lips form the thought that flashes into her mind. "He lied—to me!" She turns and goes into house.

"HONEST—HE NEAR CROAKED ME. I'M DYIN'—ALL SHOT TO PIECES. AN' THE WORST IS I DIDN'T GIT A CHANST TO SHOOT BACK AT HIM."

The ambulance men laugh and tell him to be on his way; he is more scared than hurt. Florence's face becomes tense. Her lips form the thought that flashes into her mind. "He lied—to me!" She turns and goes into house.

92—Ella's room. Gas-lit.

Bill looks up eagerly as Florence comes in. Then he stares as she goes swiftly toward the table drawer. He is quick, but not swift enough, in his rush to forestall her as she gets his revolver and "breaks" it, so that the empty cartridge and five loaded ones drop into her hand.

93—Bust of hand holding discharged cartridge.

94—Back to 92.

Florence looks up slowly. Bill figures that she will give him up now, and gives a quick, hunted look around as Florence closes the weapon and lays it on the table, fully convinced that she has been lied to. She stands looking down at the weapon, her face brooding. Suspense. What will she do about it?

95—Roof of house. Night.

"Cop," with another. No use looking further. Separate, one going down into tenement again, other across roof toward another descent.

96—Ella's room—looking toward door. Gas-lit.

Bill in an agony of terror as he hears policeman tramping toward door. Florence looks up, and moves toward Bill, who cowers. The door starts to open. Florence pities Bill now.

97—Ella's room—from hall, through opening door. Gas-lit.

The policeman is going to be crafty; he opens door, very softly, and as he peers in, he sees—Florence slipping her arms about Bill's neck, giving him a sisterly kiss as she says:

Cut-in leader—

"GOODNIGHT, BUDDY. GIVE THE KIDDIES A KISS FROM ME."Convinced, the officer draws away and goes from scene. Bill can be seen touching cheek Florence kissed, looking at finger as if expecting it to show the mark of contact.

"GOODNIGHT, BUDDY. GIVE THE KIDDIES A KISS FROM ME."

Convinced, the officer draws away and goes from scene. Bill can be seen touching cheek Florence kissed, looking at finger as if expecting it to show the mark of contact.

98—Close-up in room, from another angle, to get Florence in profile.

Bill slowly and reverently takes Florence's hand, and with devotion in every line, says fervently:

Cut-in leader—

"KID—YOU'RECERTAINLYWHITE! AND YOUARE'LITTLE SIS' TO ME FROM NOW ON!"Saying nothing more, but looking at her with devoted eyes, as she stands smiling her gentle smile, he goes to fire escape, and as he descends—Fade slowly out.

"KID—YOU'RECERTAINLYWHITE! AND YOUARE'LITTLE SIS' TO ME FROM NOW ON!"

Saying nothing more, but looking at her with devoted eyes, as she stands smiling her gentle smile, he goes to fire escape, and as he descends—Fade slowly out.

Leader—

BILL BECOMES THE FAITHFUL WATCHDOG, ASKING ONLY A PAT, AND IS ETERNALLY VIGILANT LEST HARM COME TO THE OBJECT OF HIS DEVOTION.Diaphragm in:

BILL BECOMES THE FAITHFUL WATCHDOG, ASKING ONLY A PAT, AND IS ETERNALLY VIGILANT LEST HARM COME TO THE OBJECT OF HIS DEVOTION.

Diaphragm in:

99—Park entrance.

Florence waiting. Bill is coming down path. He sees her and advances—but she meets Blinker, who is gay and delighted. They go.

100—Close-up of Bill.

No jealousy—but suspicion. Bill thinks such a man can mean no good. He starts off.

101—Wider view.

Bill seen to be shadowing Blinker and Florence.

Leader—

CONVINCED THAT "A GUY" OF BLINKER'SAPPARENTAFFLUENCE CAN MEAN NO GOOD TO A "SKIRT LIKE SIS," THE WATCHDOG INVADES FAIRYLAND.

102—Steeplechase Pier.

Crowd coming off boat. Florence and Blinker. After them, shadowing, comes Bill.

Leader—

THIS TIME, THERE IS NO TIME LOST BY THE INFATUATED BLINKER, IN GETTING INTO THE SPIRIT OF THE REVELRY.

103—Any different amusement device.

Blinker with Florence—having a grand time. Show Bill aloof but watchful, evading discovery carefully.

Leader—

THE WALKING BEAM OF A CONEY ISLAND BOAT MAKES JUST ENOUGH NOISE TO ENABLE TWO TO CONVERSE COZILY ALOOF FROM THEIR NEIGHBORS.

104—By walking beam.

Wide enough to show several couples—Florence and Blinker among them; narrows down to those two, after Bill is established in background, watchful but not interfering.

105—Close-up of Blinker.

Blinker, in spell of love, says:

Cut-in leader—

"FLORENCE—I—LOVE YOU!"Waits, breathless.

"FLORENCE—I—LOVE YOU!"

Waits, breathless.

106—Close-up of Florence.

She laughs a little tremulously but recklessly and says:

Cut-in leader—

"THAT'S WHAT THEY ALL SAY."She begins to hum.

"THAT'S WHAT THEY ALL SAY."

She begins to hum.

107—Close-up of Blinker.

He is a little impatient, and says:

Cut-in leader—

"I AM RICH. I CAN GIVE YOU MANY THINGS—"He is interrupted.[55]

"I AM RICH. I CAN GIVE YOU MANY THINGS—"

He is interrupted.[55]

108—Close-up of Florence.

She laughs a little, and says:

Cut-in leader—

"THAT'S WHAT THEY ALL SAY."She is playing with him, and yet telling truth.

"THAT'S WHAT THEY ALL SAY."

She is playing with him, and yet telling truth.

109—Close-up of Blinker.

He is impatient at this repetition. Says:

Cut-in leader—

"I DON'T LIKE YOU TO KEEP SAYING THAT!"He is annoyed. She is not taking him seriously.

"I DON'T LIKE YOU TO KEEP SAYING THAT!"

He is annoyed. She is not taking him seriously.

110—Close-up of Florence.

She looks at him—wonders—says:

Cut-in leader—

"WHY SHOULDN'T I SAY IT? THEY DO!"He is puzzled.

"WHY SHOULDN'T I SAY IT? THEY DO!"

He is puzzled.

111—Close-up of Blinker.

Surprised—puzzled—angered—says:

Cut-in leader—

"WHO ARE—'THEY'?"Jealous and anxious.

"WHO ARE—'THEY'?"

Jealous and anxious.

112—Close-up of Florence.

Surprised—innocent. Says:

Cut-in leader—

"WHY, THE MEN I MEET."What is he driving at?

"WHY, THE MEN I MEET."

What is he driving at?

113—Both—in wider view.

Florence wondering. He changes expression. Growing tension. Asks her:

Cut-in leader—

"WHERE DO YOU MEET—THESE MEN?"She looks wide-eyed—surprised—answers:

"WHERE DO YOU MEET—THESE MEN?"

She looks wide-eyed—surprised—answers:

Cut-in leader—

"I MEET THEM—AS I DID YOU—"Blinker aghast. Asks:

"I MEET THEM—AS I DID YOU—"

Blinker aghast. Asks:

Cut-in leader—

"DO YOU KNOW SO MANY?"She allows herself a laugh—says:

"DO YOU KNOW SO MANY?"

She allows herself a laugh—says:

Cut-in leader—

"WELL I'M NOT EXACTLY A WALL FLOWER."He turns away.

"WELL I'M NOT EXACTLY A WALL FLOWER."

He turns away.

114—Close-up of Blinker.

Growing tension—it is sinking in, and finally his expression grows harder.

115—Close-up of Florence.

She wonders—finally asks:

Cut-in leader—

"WHAT'S WRONG?"Her lips part in amazed terror.

"WHAT'S WRONG?"

Her lips part in amazed terror.

116—New angle. Close-up of Blinker.

Swings upon her and cries:

Cut-in leader—

"EVERYTHING'S WRONG! WHY DON'T YOU SEE THESE—THESE MEN—AT YOUR HOME? IS IT NECESSARY TO MEET EVERY TOM, DICK AND HARRY—OUTSIDE?"He is growing furious. So that is the sort she is!

"EVERYTHING'S WRONG! WHY DON'T YOU SEE THESE—THESE MEN—AT YOUR HOME? IS IT NECESSARY TO MEET EVERY TOM, DICK AND HARRY—OUTSIDE?"

He is growing furious. So that is the sort she is!

117—Profile close-up of Florence.

She laughs. Her voice is brassy-hard, saying:

Cut-in leader—

"IF YOU COULD SEE 'BRICKDUST ROW' YOU WOULDN'T ASK THAT. THE FELLOW WHO OWNS IT DOESN'T GIVE US ANY PLACE TO RECEIVE—AND WE CAN'T TAKE FELLOWS TO OUR ROOM—SO—"Shrugs.

"IF YOU COULD SEE 'BRICKDUST ROW' YOU WOULDN'T ASK THAT. THE FELLOW WHO OWNS IT DOESN'T GIVE US ANY PLACE TO RECEIVE—AND WE CAN'T TAKE FELLOWS TO OUR ROOM—SO—"

Shrugs.

118—Wider-angle view, with Blinker nearest camera.

Tension. Big scene as he gets over his horror and disgust and she realizes it, and rising, disillusioned—exactly as he feels thatheis disillusioned abouther—Sudden pause—

119—Deck,ad lib.

Fire! Excitement. "Where?"—"What'll we do?"[56]

120—Deck, another part.

Panic. Woman screams.

121—Walking beam.

Excited scattering of crowd. Florence turning away—Bill coming forward—Blinker listening. He grabs Florence by arm. She draws away. He compels her to go.

122—Deck.

Tension. Wild scene.

123—Walking beam.

Bill follows, crowd intervening, as Blinker takes Florence off. Bill gets after them.

124—Boat davits.

Wild scene. Officer. Sailors. Fire and smoke. Blinker with Florence. Takes her away—another boat!

125—Another boat.

Crowd more orderly. Women being helped into boat. Blinker on with Florence. Takes her to boat.

126—Boat davits.

Sailors shot at by officer. Surge away and off.

127—Fire blazing. Sailors lose heads—dash back from fire and toward—

128—Other boat.

Fire coming. Florence by boat. Sailors rush on and fight. Get officer's gun. Surround Florence and Blinker.

129—Different angle.

Blinker fighting to save Florence.

130—Different view.

Fire coming on. Bill fighting way toward Blinker and Florence.

131—Other boat.

Blinker fighting. Florence separated from him. Bill fights way to his side. They notice one another as men with same idea—join back to back. Florence forced away. They try to get to her. Surge of sailors over-runs them.[57]

132—Deck rail.

Florence staggers on. Flames coming. Great God! What shall she do? Off she races.

133—Boat davits.

Flames leaping. Florence just in time to see boat lowered away. Too late. Driven back.

134—Other boat.

Bill and Blinker together. Several sailors done for, others lower boat and go. Men peer about, but smoke too thick for them to see.

135—Rail.

Florence in terror. Sudden blast of flame. On rail. Leaps.Diaphragm out.[58]Diaphragm in:

Florence in terror. Sudden blast of flame. On rail. Leaps.

Diaphragm out.[58]

Diaphragm in:

136—Blinker's apartment.

Man caring for Blinker, somewhat burned. Sad and downcast. Man admits Oldport. Lawyer listens to story.

137—Hospital entry.

Bill comes out, discharged—head bandaged. He takes a card out of pocket—looks and puts back. He does not know what to do, then decides, and goes off.[59]

138—Ella's room.

Florence in bed. Ella attending. Bill knocks, is admitted.

139—Blinker's apartment.

Oldport sees Blinker is able to talk business. He assumes quizzical air, says:

Cut-in leader—

"MAYBE I CAN KEEP YOU HERE LONG ENOUGH TO TAKE UP THAT DEFERRED MATTER—"Blinker wearily assents. Oldport begins:

"MAYBE I CAN KEEP YOU HERE LONG ENOUGH TO TAKE UP THAT DEFERRED MATTER—"

Blinker wearily assents. Oldport begins:

Cut-in leader—

"YOUR FATHER INTENDED THAT THE PARLORS OF CERTAIN BUILDINGS SHOULD BE USED BY THE GIRL-TENANTS AS PLACES WHEREIN TO ENTERTAIN THEIR MALE CALLERS."Blinker gives start of surprise—query—agony—cries out:

"YOUR FATHER INTENDED THAT THE PARLORS OF CERTAIN BUILDINGS SHOULD BE USED BY THE GIRL-TENANTS AS PLACES WHEREIN TO ENTERTAIN THEIR MALE CALLERS."

Blinker gives start of surprise—query—agony—cries out:

Cut-in leader—

"'BRICKDUST ROW,' FOR A MILLION!"Oldport smiles:

"'BRICKDUST ROW,' FOR A MILLION!"

Oldport smiles:

Cut-in leader—

"I BELIEVE THE GIRLS HAVE SOME SUCH NICKNAME FOR IT. WHAT SHALL I DO?"Horrible! Blinker in spasm of anguish:

"I BELIEVE THE GIRLS HAVE SOME SUCH NICKNAME FOR IT. WHAT SHALL I DO?"

Horrible! Blinker in spasm of anguish:

Cut-in leader—

"BURN IT! RAZE IT! DO WHAT YOU LIKE—BUT I TELL YOU—IT'S TOO LATE, MAN—IT'S TOO LATE!—"He flings away.

"BURN IT! RAZE IT! DO WHAT YOU LIKE—BUT I TELL YOU—IT'S TOO LATE, MAN—IT'S TOO LATE!—"

He flings away.

140—Ella's room.

Bill chatting with Ella. Seems to have good feeling for her—devouring hot-cake she has madeas he talks with Florence, who is sitting up. He takes out card, says:

Cut-in leader—

"THAT GUY YOU WAS WID—IS HE ON THE SQUARE?—HE AST ME TO CALL ON HIM—"Florence suddenly recalls all that has happened. She turns her face away, unable to control tears of despondency.

"THAT GUY YOU WAS WID—IS HE ON THE SQUARE?—HE AST ME TO CALL ON HIM—"

Florence suddenly recalls all that has happened. She turns her face away, unable to control tears of despondency.

141—Blinker's apartment.

Oldport goes. Blinker "chases" his man, sits in bad mood, sour and lovelorn by turns.

142—Ella's room.

Bill dismayed—demands what he has said. Florence sits up—controls herself. Says, gently:

Cut-in leader—

"HE—HE ISN'T GOING TO—SEE ME ANY MORE—I GUESS."Bill is all anger—"Why?" She tells him:

"HE—HE ISN'T GOING TO—SEE ME ANY MORE—I GUESS."

Bill is all anger—"Why?" She tells him:

Cut-in leader—

"I DON'T THINK—OUR—WAYS OF LIVING—"She breaks down.

"I DON'T THINK—OUR—WAYS OF LIVING—"

She breaks down.

143—Close-up of Bill.

"The son of a brat!"—so he has chucked "Little Sis" has he, the rich piker? Well, Bill can see about that! Of course he thinks the worst of Blinker.

144—Wider-angle view.

Bill rises and tiptoes out. Florence weeping softly with Ella comforting—rough yet tender.

145—Blinker's apartment.

Man admits Bill and is dismissed. Blinker hearty—then sees Bill's anger. Rises. Big scene where Bill denounces him, saying:

Cut-in leader—

"YOU GOT TO BE SQUARE WITH THAT KID!"Blinker misunderstands. Bill comes near to throttling him, before Blinker can gasp:

"YOU GOT TO BE SQUARE WITH THAT KID!"

Blinker misunderstands. Bill comes near to throttling him, before Blinker can gasp:

Cut-in leader—

"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND—IT WAS ONLY A DIFFERENCE OF—OPINION—"Bill waits to find out. Blinker hesitates, then, seeing threat, begins to explain.

"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND—IT WAS ONLY A DIFFERENCE OF—OPINION—"

Bill waits to find out. Blinker hesitates, then, seeing threat, begins to explain.

146—Ella's room.

Florence seems to be asleep, and Ella sneaks off for some milk or something. Florence gets up, sad and despondent. Slowly begins to dress.

147—Blinker's apartment.

Bill amazed at Blinker, who ends up:

Cut-in leader—

"IT'S A QUESTION OF ETHICS—"Bill glowers and snaps:

"IT'S A QUESTION OF ETHICS—"

Bill glowers and snaps:

Cut-in leader—

"ETHICS BE DAMNED! IT'S A QUESTION OF—ARE YOU GOIN' TUH BLAME HER FOR THE VERY THING YOU MADE HER DO?"Blinker begins to consider.

"ETHICS BE DAMNED! IT'S A QUESTION OF—ARE YOU GOIN' TUH BLAME HER FOR THE VERY THING YOU MADE HER DO?"

Blinker begins to consider.

148—Ella's room.

Florence dressing (suspense: Does she recall that revolver and want to add her tragedy to the dreary ones of "Brickdust Row?")

149—Blinker's apartment.

Big realization—"All my fault." Blinker goes off with Bill.

150—Ella's room.

Ella soothing Florence. Latter does not wish to live. All life is black before her.

151—Hall outside door.

Comedy relief as Bill and Blinker come on and latter draws back in a natural suspense as to his reception and Bill tells him to "beat it on in!" Blinker knocks, and goes in. Bill pauses.

152—Ella's room.

Florence looks up. Ella surprised. Blinker pauses. Ella seems to be attracted by something.

153—Crack of open door.

Bill is making violent gestures to get Ella out.

154—Ella's room.

Ella catches Bill's idea, and moves unostentatiously out. Then Blinker strides to Florence. He says:

Cut-in leader—

"IT'S ALL WRONG. I'VE COME TO SQUARE IT."Florence is reserved, chilly, as she says:

"IT'S ALL WRONG. I'VE COME TO SQUARE IT."

Florence is reserved, chilly, as she says:

Cut-in leader—

"YOU MEAN—ABOUT THE PARLORS?"Blinker is beside her, and catching her hands he cries:

"YOU MEAN—ABOUT THE PARLORS?"

Blinker is beside her, and catching her hands he cries:

Cut-in leader—

"I MEAN—ABOUTYOU!—ANDME!"In spite of herself, Florence is forced to lift her eyes, and as she reads the look in his own she is compelled to realize that the air is cleared at last and that the happiness that seemed dead is again alive—palpitant happiness that draws her into his ready arms.

"I MEAN—ABOUTYOU!—ANDME!"

In spite of herself, Florence is forced to lift her eyes, and as she reads the look in his own she is compelled to realize that the air is cleared at last and that the happiness that seemed dead is again alive—palpitant happiness that draws her into his ready arms.

155—Hall outside Ella's room.

Bill "fixes it up" with Ella to "travel double." She wants to rush in and tell her chum, but Bill stays her: "Nix—let 'em do some clinchin' first!"

156—Ella's room.

Florence and Blinker embracing.Circle diaphragm closes to blackness.[60]

Florence and Blinker embracing.

Circle diaphragm closes to blackness.[60]

Writing the photoplay is essentially an art; marketing the photoplay script is a business; and the sooner the writer adopts intelligent, up-to-date business methods in offering his stories, the sooner he is likely to find the checks coming in. It is not enough merely to send out your script; it must be sent to that editor who is in the market for the kind of script you have written. As one editor has said, "Don't send a Biblical photoplay to a firm that makes a specialty of Indian and cowboy subjects."

Your first care, then, should be to have as complete a knowledge as possible of what every company is doing, what kinds of stories they need at the time, where their field-companies are working, and, above all, what kinds of scripts certain companies positively donotwant atanytime. For of course, there are companies with definitely fixed policies, besides concerns that announce from time to time that they are unable to use stories of this or that sort.

The most important aids to a thorough knowledge of the photoplay market are the different moving-picture trade-journals and the magazines published exclusively for writers.[61]By studying them you will equip yourself with a first-hand knowledge of what the different studio editors need, and so be on the right road. Don't take a gambler's chance by sending out your scripts without knowing precisely what is a good prospect.

In almost every one of the foregoing chapters we have raised points that bear upon the selling of your story as well as affect the particular part of the script then being discussed. To repeat one instance, you were advised not only to satisfy yourself that a company is in the market for society stories, but to look into the nature of the stock-company producing their plays. If the company you select is one that features a woman in most of its picture-stories, and yours is a photoplay with a strong male lead, you would be unwise to submit it there. True, it might be accepted and one of the studio writers commissioned to rewrite it in order to give the "fat" part to the leading woman, but your check would be proportionately smaller to compensate for the rewriting—you would, in fact, be paid little more than if you had sold the bare idea.

In submitting your script to a given company, do not address it to individuals, unless there is a very good reason for so doing—and there seldom is. Address your letter either to the "Editor, Blank Film Company," or to the "Manuscript Department." Most useless of all is the practice of sending to some person who is known to be associated with a certain company, without knowing just what his position is.

Once the photoplaywright has begun to sell hisscripts, he will usually prefer to do his own marketing. If, he argues, he is able to write salable photoplays, why should he share his checks with authors' agents or photoplay clearing houses? Yet many writers find an agency to be advantageous. But you had better take the advice of an experienced friend before committing your work to an intermediary—not all are capable and not all are honest.

One thing the writer should remember:Send a script to only one firm at a time.There is one company at least, and there may be more, which announces that no carbon copies of scripts will be considered. The implication, of course, is that they are afraid to pass on carbon copies for fear that at the time they are looking over a script it may have been already purchased by some other company. If youdosend out a carbon copy of your script, make it plain to the editor in your accompanying letter that the original script has gone astray or been destroyed, and you are sending the carbon in its place for that reason. But why send a carbon script at all? If you think enough of your work to want to see it well-dressed, make a clean, fresh copy and take no risks.

It is literally true that many an author has spoiled his chances of ever selling to certain companies because he sold a story to a second company before making certain that it had been rejected by the first to which it was sent. Imagine the complication of receiving a check from B shortly after the author has had word that A has purchased the same story!

A manuscript shouldneverbe rolled—it irritates abusy editor to have to straighten out a persistently curling package of manuscript.

The sheets should not be permanently fastened together. It is simple diplomacy to make the reading of your script an agreeable task instead of an annoyance.

Do not fold an 8-1/2 x 11-inch sheet of paper more than twice. Fold it but once, or else make two even folds and the script will be in proper form to fit the legal-sized envelope. Heavy manilla envelopes are the strongest, but we have never had cause to complain of the white, stamped envelopes to be had at any post-office. If you choose to use these, ask for sizes 8 and 9. Your script, folded twice, will fit snugly into the size 8, which is to be the self-addressed return envelope. Donotput your MS. in the return envelope. In enclosing the smaller envelope, turn it with the open side down, so as to avoid having the flap cut when the outer envelope is opened with a paper knife.

Attach the full amount of postage tobothenvelopes; never enclose loose stamps—andneverforget to stamp the inner envelope if you wish to get your manuscript back in case of rejection. At this writing (February, 1919), a three-cent stamp will bring it back to you, but you will have to pay whatever else is due before receiving the letter; and if the story sells, and you receive nothing but the check, you will have the satisfaction of knowing that you have not been stingily economical in sending it out.

See that your name and address are on the upper left-hand corner of the going envelope; be sure, too, that the return envelope is properly self-addressed.

We should not advise the young writer to put the price demanded for his script in the upper right-hand corner of the first sheet, though this is where it should go if he does wish to stipulate the amount for which he will sell it. It is very much better simply to write: "Submitted at usual rates." Even after you have sold to a given company, it is better, as a rule, to leave the matter of payment to the editor. You may be sure that he will pay you just as much as your story is worth, being governed only by the price-limit fixed by the manufacturer. Today, almost every manufacturer realizes that the day of getting "something for nothing" is past. In other words, he realizes that the script—the story—is the very keystone of the photoplay arch, and if the story is purchased from a free-lance writer, he must be prepared to pay a fair price for it.

It is impossible, in a work of this kind, to say what certain companies are in the habit of paying, but it may roughly be said that the minimum priceper reeltoday is $50. Most of the larger producing companies are glad to pay a minimum of $100 per reel for satisfactory material, and $1,000 for a five-reel script—or even for a five-reel story in synopsis form, if that is the company's policy—is regularly paid by those who are entitled to be called "the leading producers." Most companies have a fixed, uniform price-scale; and it would be silly for any one to say that you will be paid a certain amount for your story "if it suits them." We have in mind a certain large company that is in the habit of paying $1,000 for all the five-reel synopsesit purchases. If your story is not what this company wants, of course it will not be purchased at all. If your story does suit them, you may be certain of receiving a check for $1,000 at least—and we say "at least" because they have been known to pay still higher prices if the story is really unusual and hence especially valuable to them. This same company—as do nearly all concerns—frequently pays a price greatly exceeding $1,000 for the work of authors with "big names," because, of course, the value of the big name is not to be denied.

Experience alone will teach you which companies pay the best prices; after you have sold several scripts, and have become acquainted with the price-scale of different studios, you will, if the play suits that particular market, naturally offer your material first to the company that has paid you best. But just as soon as a script comes back from one company—so long as you feel certain that it is not in your power to improve it before letting it go out again—send it out to another, and then to another, until it is either accepted or so worn or soiled that it is politic to recopy it. And don't wait too long to do this simple act of justice to your brain-child. Whatever you do, don't stop with three or four rejections—keep at it until you aresurethe market is exhausted. But be certain to review your script for possible improvements each time it comes back to you.

Keep up your output. Do not write one story, send it out, and then wait patiently for its return, or for the editor's check. Plan a new story, write it, andsend it out. Then plan another and follow the same course. Photoplay marketing is a business, and a business man is usually "on the job" six days a week.

It is best not to write a letter to the editor, to accompany your script, unless there is a very special reason for so doing. Nor should the writer rush a letter of inquiry off in case he does not hear from the editor within a week or two after submitting his story. Delay may be a hopeful sign. If you hear nothing in two months it is time enough to write—briefly and courteously. Nearly all companies, however, will report well within that period.

It is utterly impossible in a work of this nature to include a list of the requirements of every photoplay editor. The policy of the manufacturers is always subject to change. Their requirements are governed by the number of scripts of each kind they have on hand, the disposal of their field-companies, the season of the year, the ability of their directors to turn out the various kinds of pictures, and also by individual preferences.

The way to keep posted on the current needs of the various companies is to study on the screen the pictures of the different producing firms; to read in the trade-journals the synopses of all the releases that you do not have the opportunity of witnessing; and to keep in touch with the announcements made by the manufacturers themselves in the weekly and monthly journals mentioned inChapter XIV.

"Where and How to Sell Manuscripts," by William B. McCourtie, issued by the publishers of this book($2.50), contains a frequently revised list of over 5,000 markets for literary material of all sorts, including photoplays.

Keep a record of every script you send out. Here is one simple form for a manuscript book or card index:

Do not let the printed rejection slip humiliate you. Really great writers get them, constantly. This statement is equally true of both fiction and photoplay writing. It would take too much time and money for an editorial staff to write personal letters to all who offer unsolicited manuscript.

Never write petulant or sarcastic letters when your offerings are rejected. You may need the good-will of that editor some day. Although personal pique seldom actuates him, he may be frail enough to be annoyed when his well-meant efforts are assailed.

In conclusion, we urge the writer to remember the words of Dr. Johnson:

"All the performances of human art at which we look with praise or wonder are instances of the resistless force of perseverance; it is by this that the quarry becomes a pyramid, and that distant countries are united with canals."

Some Books Dealing with Plot in Fiction

1.Moulton, Richard G.;Shakespeare as a Dramatic Artist, Oxford Press, New York, 1885.

2.Price, William T.;Technique of the Drama, Brentano, New York, 1892.

3.Barrett, Charles Raymond;Short Story Writing, Baker & Taylor, New York, 1900.

4.Perry, Bliss;A Study of Prose Fiction, Houghton, Mifflin, Boston, 1902.

5.Albright, Evelyn May;The Short-Story, Macmillan, New York, 1907.

6.Hamilton, Clayton;Materials and Methods of Fiction, Baker & Taylor, New York, 1908.

7.Esenwein, J. Berg;Writing the Short-Story, Home Correspondence School, Springfield, Mass., 1909 and 1918.

8.Phillips, Henry Albert;The Plot of the Short-Story. Out of print. See any large library.

9.Pitkin, Walter B.;The Art and the Business of Story Writing, Macmillan, 1912.

10.Esenwein, J. Berg,andChambers, Mary B.;The Art of Story Writing, Home Correspondence School, 1913.

11.Wells, Carolyn;The Technique of the Mystery Story, Home Correspondence School, 1913.

12.Neal, Robert Wilson;Short Stories in the Making, Oxford University Press, New York, 1914.

13.Notestein, Lucy Lilian, andDunn, Waldo Hilary;The Modern Short-Story, Barnes, New York, 1914.

14.Phillips, Henry Albert;Universal Plot Catalogue, Stanhope-Dodge, 1915.

15.Pain, Barry;The Short Story, Doran, New York, 1916.

16.Baker, Harry T.;The Contemporary Short Story, Heath, Boston, 1916.

17.Williams, Blanche Colton;A Handbook on Story Writing, Dodd, Mead, New York, 1917.

Especially Helpful Books on Photoplay Writing

1.Sargent, Epes Winthrop;The Technique of the Photoplay, Moving Picture World, New York, 1913. Third edition, 1917.

2.Phillips, Henry Albert;The Photodrama, Stanhope-Dodge Co., Larchmont, N.Y., 1914.

3.Powell, A. Van Buren;The Photoplay Synopsis, Home Correspondence School, Springfield, Mass., 1919.

Names of authors and companies are printed in capitals; titles, and names of magazines, are printed in italics; and other topics are set in plain, or "Roman" type.

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