The (fine-)tooth, and nothing but the tooth

Some folks visit flea markets, antique malls, and vintage stores with the primary goal of revisiting their youth; others seek to explore those years that preceded them, the decades they missed by being born too late.

We’re in the latter camp. The Sixties and Seventies hold little archeological interest for us. We were there (kids that we were). But take us further back, to the Fifties, yes, but preferably even further—the Forties, Thirties, and Twenties—and we’re in our element. And one of our favorite things to come across, as we sort through the flotsam and jetsam of decades gone by, are those esoteric items we never even knew existed.

Like this comb, for example, which we stumbled upon at the Garage, a weekend flea market on Manhattan’s west side. What caught our eye was the top of the comb, the tiers that give it a kind of Art Deco effect.

At first glance, we thought those tiers were merely decorative, but as the vendor who was offering the comb (and who was kind enough to allow us to shoot our blurry snapshot without making a purchase) pointed out, they’re actually functional. The dark areas aren’t painted, as we thought—they hold bobby pins.

How cool is that?

Well, not that cool, of course—it’s not as though it’s a product that changed anyone’s life. But given that we’d never seen a comb like it (have you? Tell the truth) and the fact that it was a promotional item for a business (we’re suckers for vintage promotional giveaways), we got a kick out of it, and so thought we’d share it with you, gentle readers.

Goodbye to another glorious gal: Barbara Kent

Some years ago, we had the pleasure of viewing Lonesome, a silent-talkie hybrid that was released in 1928. It’s not an easy movie to catch; as far as we know, the George Eastman House in Rochester, New York, has one of the few extant prints. (Someone seems to have loaded Lonesome up on YouTube, and we suppose that’s better than not seeing it at all, but just barely.)

Lonesome could not be more charming. Its appeal is based in large part on the fact that much of it was filmed on Coney Island, and any glimpse of that magical setting as it was in the 1920s is to be treasured.

But the plot of the picture is engaging, too. It tells the tale of two lonely Manhattanites who experience a chance meeting at Coney Island and go on to spend a magical day together before getting separated that evening, with neither having learned the other’s last name. In a city of millions, will they ever manage to find each other? (If you think we’re going to tell you how it turns out, you can think again. No blabbermouths, we.)

Lonesome was originally released as a silent picture, but with all the fuss over the new sound technology, it was decided to bring back all involved parties to film three scenes with synchronized music and dialogue. So it’s not quite a silent and not quite a talkie.

But it’s certainly delightful, in our opinion, and we encourage you, if you ever have the opportunity, to see it (in a theatre and not streaming online, if at all possible).

But you might well be wondering why we’re mentioning what is today a rather obscure picture now? Well, we’re sad to report that it’s because the movie’s leading lady, Barbara Kent, one of Universal Studios’ original contract stars and the final surviving WAMPAS Baby Star of 1927, died a week ago yesterday at the age of 103.

The Canadian-born Kent (her birthname was Barbara Cloutman) was not, admittedly, the biggest of names, even at the height of her career, but she made her mark, making eight or nine silents before successfully navigating the switch to talking pictures. She made 25 sound movies following her appearance in Lonesome, but retired from acting in 1935.

Among Kent’s most notable films were her screen debut in Flesh and the Devil (1926), with John Gilbert and Greta Garbo; a pair of starring roles opposite Harold Lloyd, in 1929’s Welcome Danger and Feet First a year later; a supporting role in Indiscreet (1931), which starred Gloria Swanson; and Emma, which featured Myrna Loy and Marie Dressler.

In the course of her nine-year career, Kent also worked alongside Douglas Fairbanks Jr., Richard Barthelmess, Edward G. Robinson, Charles “Buddy” Rogers, Andy Devine, James Gleason, Ben Lyon, Gilbert Roland, Noah Beery, Victor Jory, Dickie Moore, Monte Blue, Wallace Ford, Ward Bond, Arthur Lake, and Rex the Wonder Horse. That may not qualify as a Hall of Fame roster of co-stars, but many an actress has done worse.

After retiring, Kent refused virtually all interviews about her years in Hollywood—one notable exception was the time she afforded author Michael G. Ankerich, who profiled Kent in The Sound of Silence: Conversations with 16 Film and Stage Personalities Who Bridged the Gap Between Silents and Talkies—as she settled into a successive pair of happy marriages—first to Harry Edington, a Hollywood agent, whom she wed in 1932, and then, some years after Edington’s death in 1949, she married Jack Monroe, a Lockheed engineer. Aside from evading would-be interviewers, Kent reportedly spent her free time in her golden years as a golfer and a pilot.

For more on Kent’s life and career, give this New York Times obit a look.

Movies like they oughts to be

It’s exciting any time that film buffs are given access to rarely seen pictures from days gone by, and it’s even more exciting when those films are made available to one and all, free of charge.

Fifty-six films made by the Thanhouser Company, originally released between 1910 and 1917, are now available via online stream, free of charge.

The Thanhouser Company was founded in 1910 by Edwin Thanhouser, who had made a nice living serving as the manager of the Academy of Music Theater in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Thanhouser decided he wanted to get into the motion picture business, and given that the film industry was then centered in the New York City area, he made his way to the Big Apple with every intention of opening a production studio in Manhattan.

Because so many producers and performers of note then lived in New Rochelle, a Westchester County suburb of NYC, Thanhouser took the train to that burg, hoping to make some connections. Instead, he met a real estate broker there who convinced him that New Rochelle was the perfect place to locate his studio. Thanhouser was convinced to buy a shuttered rolling skate rink as headquarters for his new endeavor.

Thanhouser’s theatrical experience served him well as a film maker, and New Rochelle, situated between urban and rural settings, allowed him to film on location to great effect. The municipal authorities in New Rochelle were very cooperative as well, allowing Thanhouser to shoot freely in and around town, and it showed in the pictures Thanhouser put out.

In 1912, Thanhouser sold the studio at a healthy profit to the Mutual Picture Corporation, and by 1915, they realized how key he had been to the quality of pictures the studio churned out. That spring, they brought Thanhouser back to manage studio operations, and the company’s fortunes again were on the upswing.

The year 1917 was a rough one for the movie business, with many studios laying off employees and actors. Though his studio was still operating at a profit, Thanhouser opted to get out of the movie business and build a dream home on Long Island in which to spend his golden years. The studio was leased to another production company, the Clara Kimball Young Film Corporation, and the Thanhouser Film Corporation ceased to operate.

But the films live on, and now you, Cladrite reader, can travel back in time, via the wonders of the internet, to enjoy quality cinema as it existed a century ago. We’ve included the earliest film in the collection below, just to give you a taste of the experience, but you can view all 56 pictures at Thanhouser.org. And while you’re there, you can purchase the films on DVD or show your gratitude by following the link on the web site to donate to Thanhouser Company Film Preservation, Inc., “a non-profit 501(c)(3) organization involved in the research, acquisition, preservation and publication of educational materials related to the early silent motion picture era, with a specific focus on the Thanhouser film enterprise.”

The Actor’s Children (1910) from Ned Thanhouser on Vimeo.