Many more than myself thought Dorothy was better—for she was that rare thing, a comedienne, and comediennes in the movies have been scarcer than hen’s teeth. She proved what she could do when she got her first real chance as the bob-haired midinette in “Hearts of the World.”
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Four or five companies working on the big stage these days made things hum like a three-ring circus. From the dressing-rooms a balcony opened that looked down on the studio floor, and here Blanche Sweet could often be seen, her feet poked through the iron rails of the balcony, her elbows resting on the railing, her chin cupped in the hollow of her hands, her eyes bulging as she watched every move the director made. For Blanche was worried. Would Lillian or Mae be chosen to play in the next big picture?
Mr. Griffith kept all the girls worried. All but Mary Pickford. She was the only one who dared demand. With Mother, Mary came up to the new studio to see what she could put over in the way of a job. She’d now a legitimate reason for making herself costly. In January, 1913, Miss Pickford made a second appearance on the dramatic stage under David Belasco’s wing. On her opening, the papers said that the success of Miss Pickford as the little blind princess was so marked that it practically precluded her return to the screen.
Adolph Zukor had followed up his first Famous Players picture, the four-reel “Queen Elizabeth” with James K. Hackett in “The Prisoner of Zenda” and Mrs. Fiske in “Leah Kleschna.” Astute business man that he was, as soon as “The Good Little Devil” closed, he secured the play for the screen with the dramatic company intact and Mary as a Famous Player.
No, her dramatic success would not preclude her return to the screen. It would merely fortify her with great assurance in making her next picture contract. I am told it happened thus:
Mother and Mary bearded the lion in his den.
“Well, what are you asking now?” queried Mr. Griffith.
“Five hundred a week,” answered Mrs. Smith.
“Can’t see it. Mary’s not worth it to me.”