“Let us say a thousand dollars a week,” said he. “Certainly after all my experience I ought to be worth that.”
Mention of Mr. Tellegen brings me logically to one achievement of my life which I always survey with pride. The year and a half that had elapsed since the production of “The Squaw Man” had brought almost incredible improvements in both the manufacture and presentation of photo-plays. The modern system of lighting had replaced our former reliance upon the rays of the sun. More and more we had substituted the carpenter for the scene-painter. As to the motion-picture theatre itself, this of course presented an aspect very different from the peanut-strewn area which in 1913 had suggested my great enterprise.
However, in spite of orchestral accompaniments and high-priced seats, in spite of the growing ascendancy of such screen stars as Mary Pickford and Charlie Chaplin, the motion-pictures were merely popular. They were not fashionable. How to make them so, how to intrigue that shy marginal group known as “the carriage trade”—here was the challenge offered to the producer of 1915.
It was about this time that Morris Gest came to me and said: “I think I’ve about got Geraldine Farrar to the point where she’s willing to go into motion-pictures. What’s more, I believe she’ll come with you instead of with Zukor, for the idea of California is attractive to her, especially if she can go and come in a private car.”
After a smile at this approach to the situation on the part of Miss Farrar I asked him, “But how does the famous prima donna look these days?”
“Wonderful? More beautiful than ever,” retorted Gest.
On the first evening when Lasky and I called at Miss Farrar’s home we found that Gest’s enthusiasm was not misplaced. As she swept into the drawing-room to greet us we both thought we had never in our lives seen any one so beautiful.
It did not take long to arrange matters between us. Miss Farrar agreed to go to California for eight weeks to make three pictures—“Maria Rosa,” “Carmen,” and “Temptation.” For these services she was to receive twenty thousand dollars and, in consideration of the modesty of the sum—she would have realised more for a concert tour of the same length—we agreed to supply her with a special car to and from Los Angeles, together with a furnished house, servants, and food during the period of her stay.
On all such minor points Miss Farrar was immediately reasonable. Only in one subject did she display any vital curiosity.
“Whom are you going to engage for my leading man,” she asked.