“Doc” was Mr. Griffith’s friendly appellation for “the man in the front office,” Lee Dougherty. It was going some for Mr. Griffith to give any one a nickname. He never was a “hail fellow well met.” It was Mr. So-and-so from Mr. Griffith and to Mr. Griffith with very few exceptions. Never once during all the Biograph years did he ever publicly call even his own wife by any other name than “Miss Arvidson.” Only in general conversation about the movies, and in his absence, was he familiarly referred to as “Griff,” or “D. W.,” or the “Governor.”
Mr. Dougherty was the one man at 11 East Fourteenth Street before the Griffith régime who had more than a speaking acquaintance with the movies. In the summer of 1896 as stage manager of the old Boston Museum, he installed there the first projection machine of American manufacture, the Eidoloscope. When the season at the Boston Museum was over, Mr. Dougherty, who had become quite fascinated with this new idea in entertainment, went to New York City. The Biograph Company along about 1897 had just finished a moving picture of Pope Leo XIII taken at the Vatican. Pictures of the late Pope Benedict XV were announced as the first pictures made of a Pope, “approved by His Holiness.” While they may be the first approved ones, Captain Varges of the International News Reel, who claims the honor, brought the third motion picture camera into the Vatican grounds. The second film—Pope Pius X in the Vatican, and gardens, and the Eucharistic Congress, was released in 1912.
Well, anyhow, Mr. Dougherty took a set of Biograph’s Pope Leo XIII pictures to exhibit in the towns and cities of New Jersey and Pennsylvania on the old Biograph projection machine—one vastly superior to the Eidoloscope. The company exhibiting the picture consisted of an operator on the machine and Mr. Dougherty who lectured. And when he began his little talk (there was no titling or printed matter in the picture), the small boys in the gallery would yell “spit it out, we want to see the picture.” Numbers of motion picture directors to-day might well heed the sentiments of those small boys.
From exhibiting Pope Leo XIII’s picture, Mr. Dougherty became stage director of One Minute Comedies for the Biograph which at this time had a stage on the roof of a building at 841 Broadway. And sometimes in the midst of a scene the weather would pick up scenery and props and deposit them in Broadway. So came about experiments with electric lights, satisfactory results first being obtained with the Jeffries-Sharkey prize fight.
The One Minute Comedies finally were given up, but the Mutoscopes, being Biograph’s biggest source of revenue, were continued. The Mutoscopes were brief film playlets that were viewed in the penny-in-the-slot machines.
One day, before Mutoscopes ended, my husband asked me to run over to Wanamaker’s with him and help choose some pretty undies for the Mutoscope girls—photographically effective stuff—so we selected some very elegant heavy black silk embroidered stockings and embroidered pink Italian silk vests and knickers—last-word lingeries for that time.
I felt rather ill about it. “Oh dear,” I thought, “this is some business, but I’ll be brave, I will, even though I die.” Well, the parcel being wrapped, David took it and then handed it to me, and I thought, “Why should I carry the bundle?” So we reached Fourteenth Street. David started to the left without his parcel; I was continuing up Broadway, so handed it to him. But the lingerie wasn’t for Mutoscopes at all—but for me—just a little surprise. So then with a light and happy heart, I took my way home to admire my beautiful present.
After the Biograph had engaged David, Mr. Dougherty did not want them to make any more Mutoscopes. Mr. Griffith directed possibly six. In order to influence Biograph to cut out the Mutoscopes, Doc got very cocky, and he said to Mr. Kennedy and Mr. Marvin, “You wait, you’ll see pictures on Broadway some day, like you do plays.” But they gave him the laugh. “Yes,” Doc added, “and they will accord them the same dignified attention that John Drew receives.” They laughed some more at this, and said, “Pictures will always be a mountebank form of amusement.”
From “Edgar Allan Poe,” with Barry O’Moore (Herbert Yost) and Linda Griffith.