The Times from San Mateo, California • Page 16

Helen Burgess Doesn't Recall Desire To Be Actress--Acting Offered Diversion From Studies ays New Movie Actress De Millc, Hatless and Holding Tripod of Camera, Moves in for a Closeup of His New Screen Find. Bnde of Buffalo Bill in Cecil De Mille's "The Plainsman" Is Helen Burgess, Screen New- coiner. By Helen Burgess Miss Burgess and James Ellison, Who Plays the Part of Buffalo Bill in "The Plainsman" Which Stars Gary Cooper as Wild Bill Hickok and Jean Arthur BECAME an actress because I didn't like school. People argue with me and say I must have had a strong desire to act even as a little girl, but I don't remember it. When I was going to the Annie Wright Seminary in Tacoma--a beautiful school overlook- Ing Puget Sound--it was torture to me If I had tx get up and recite.

I was so self-conscious and tfiy that I got very poor grades, because I would prepare an oral recitation and then, when the teacher called me, I would say I was unprepared. We had moved to Tacoma from Portland, where I was born, and when I was 10 we moved again, this time to Hollywood. My Interest In school seemed to decrease after I started going to public school in Los Angeles. It was no fault of the teachers or the system; I would have hated the rules and regulations no matter where I went to school, I alao hated being told what I should read and study. I read what I wanted to, and passed up the studies that didn't interest From grammar school, I went to Los Angeles High and later to Hollywood High, but I cut class almost as often as I attended and usually went to the movies or the public library.

Finally, when I was within half a year of graduating, I sat down with mother one day and discussed going to dramatic school. After seeing so many movies, I thought I had at least a little talent and that. I would enjoy study- Ing to become an actress. NOWING how I hated public school, mother agreed and sent me to Clark's Los Angeles Dramatic School, which I attended for a year. Clark's la conducted like any other dramatic school.

You are taught diction and carriage; you study famous plays, act parts in them, and attend the many productions of the school as part of your training. It wasn't very often that I played hookey because I reaNy enjoyed'the work. I had never been in-a play while I was going to grammar or high school, but naturally began to act in them now. At the time, seeing my name In lights on Broadway wouldn't have been more thrilling than reading "Helen Burgess" on posters outside Clark's little box-like theater. Fame already had an Inviting taste.

My first stage appearance that was not directly under'lhe supervision of instructors was a dramatic role in "The Seventh Year" at the Spotlight Theater In Los Angeles, The play ran two weeks and was about to close when I received word that Jack Murton, a Paramount Studio talent scout, was coming to the theater to see me in the play. I thought at the time that there was some mistake; that Mr. Murton's interest must be In the play itself or some more prominent member of the cast. I even suspected that somebody might be playing a cruel Joke on me. But they kept the play going an extra night so Mr.

Murton could see it, and afterward he came' around back stage. We were Introduced and talked a little, then he made an appointment for me to come to the studio. Almost before I knew It, I was under contract to Paramount AE FOUR "'8. es 1 De Mill and Tex DriscoII, Who Was in "The Squaw Mille First P.cture,,and Who Has Been in Every De Mille Picture Since. De a contract Is only a matter of putting your name on a legal piece.of paper while a lot of pleasant executives look" on.

It's no guarantee of work. I expected that I would Immediately get a part in a picture, or at least be called on to play atmosphere in a film or two, but no auch thing. Yet, even though I didn't know it, the studio machinery was working and I was being offered to various producers, among them Cecil B. De Mllle. Mr.

Murton knew that Mr. De Mille was looking for someone to play the role of Louisa Cody, Buffalo Bill's society girl wife, in "The Plainsman," and recommended me. Mr. De Mllle haa discovered more stars for the screen than anybody else In Hollywood, but he had never given an important role to anyone without previous screen experience and was naturally wary of me. Then he noticed me, one day.

In the studio restaurant and, though he didn't know my name at the time, decided then and there that I looked the type to play Louisa. Then.I received a call to come to his office for' an audition. I SHALL never forget the audition. With Phyllis I-oughton's help, I worked up some lines from "The Plainsman" and appeared at Mr. De Mine's office as scheduled.

It's a hushed, walnut paneled room In a small buff bungalow and you sense that many tremendous events are awaiting Mr. De Mille's attention when you walk in. I felt rather apologetic for taking up his time. Books on Wild Bill Hickok and his period stand in rows on a table at your left There, is a leather divan and other furnishings on the ahead Is Mr. De Mllte's desk, and he looks up with hla eyes twinkling under jutting lids.

Also In the room Is his executive assistant, William H. Pine; hla casting director, Joseph Egli; his assistant directors, Miss Loughton and others. Really a large audience. James Ellison, who plays the role of Buffalo Bill Cody in "The Plainsman," worked opposite me in my audition. I was BO nervous that I'm sure all those people in the room could see my skirts quivering, the way they do when you're really upset.

But as we went along, I gained more confidence and I'm sure no one could tell from my voice that I was shaking. The first part of the audition was all right, and Mr. De Mllle gave us a couple more scenes to learn and asked us to come back In an hour. The second section of'the audition was better, and I was told that I'd be given a screen teat EFORE the screen test there were fittings in the wardrobe department; long hours In the makeup department, and additional houra in the hands of Lenore Sablne, head of the hairdressing department. The test was made on one of the so-called monitor stages.

I wore a little peach colored dress with hoopskirt and worked In-a small cabin supposed to be the Cody cabin near Deadwood. Mr. De Mllle screened the.test at his home as soon as it was developed and the next day I was notified that I was in the cast of "The Plainsman," with Gary Cooper and Jean Arthur. Until I walked out on the set the first day the picture was In production I had never met either of them. And I have never know such excitement as we witnessed on the set that day.

Workers had been arriving from 6:30 In the morning, and the set covered three acres. It included a frontier town representing Hays City a dock, river and river boats. There were about a thousand extras In frontier dress and there was even a gallery for the press--just like at the World Series. I understand that it was the first time a press gallery, with telegraphers and a couple hundred correspondents was ever required at the start of a picture. When I walked out Into the dusty street ac companled by a makeup woman and a wardrobe worker, Mr.

De Mllle dismounted from the camera boom and looked over my dress hat and parasol. Then he brought me over and in- troduccd me to Gary and Jean. They were both very pleasant to me, and Gary said, "Just don't take It too seriously. Acting's only as hard as A ND, strangely enough, I didn't mind working before the camera at all. The real anxiety came when we went to see the "rushes" that night Jimmy Ellison had already been in a number of pictures, but he was as conctmcd as I.

When we were walking over to the projection room to see the result of the day's work, we were about as cheerful as a couple of people going'to be hanged, because everything depended on that first day's work It was Jimmy's big break as well as mine, and we had to make good. When we arrived In the projection room, Mr. ue Mille and the others were already there Mr De Mllle had Jimmy and me sit right In front of him, so that we could hear every comment he made. It gave me such a ghostly feeling of seeming to be in two places at once as I watched myself on the screen--and I was so surprised at the sound of my voice coming from behind the screen, that I don't Uilnk I heard many of Mr. De Mine's observations.

I was afraid to look at him after the screen- Ing, was over and got out of the projection room as fast-as I could. "What do you suppose he thought of ua Jimmy?" I asked my screen husband outside. "He thought you were swell," said Jimmy. "And how you?" "Well, he didn't seem to have a complaint in the world, so maybe we can at last consider ourselves as really down on the Hat with the other De Mllle discoveries--you know Gloria Swan son, Wallace Reid. Ramon Novarro and all the rest" And we both gave a great big algh of relief..