[PHOTOGRAPHS TAKEN IN DANGEROUS PLACES.]
"Race war in Alabama. Take cinematograph pictures of fighting and country." "Want pictures of Dyaks of Borneo as soon as possible." "Series wanted of whale-hunting in Arctic regions."
The average man, receiving one of these messages with his breakfast, would not regard the commission exactly in the light of a pleasure trip. To the cinematograph man, however, such orders are all in a day's work. He simply packs up his machine, makes his arrangements in the shortest possible time, and goes right ahead with the business.
It is thrilling and wonderful work at times; and it requires a little patience, too. "One of our photographers," said the manager of a company recently, "once sat beside a geyser in Iceland for three weeks, waiting for an eruption to take place, in order that he might obtain some pictures of this wonderful phenomenon. The geyser seemed in no hurry to oblige him, so he left the district for a couple of days. When he returned he found that the eruption had taken place and the geyser had again become inactive.
"Another of our photographers, who went out to Borneo to take pictures of the home life of the natives, narrowly escaped losing his head as well as his machine. The natives thought the latter was some new and powerful weapon, and it was only by the timely intervention of the interpreter, who explained matters, that they adopted a more friendly attitude.
"By the way, this particular photographer raised a good laugh when he came home. We wanted some pictures taken while traveling down the water chute at an exhibition. It was necessary for the operator and the machine to be strapped to the boat, in order that he might be quite free to turn the handle and take the photographs as he shot down the chute. I asked the photographer from Borneo to do the job. 'I would rather be excused,' he said; 'I've got a weak heart.' Here was a man, who spent weeks among one of the most savage tribes in the world, who was afraid to go down a water chute. Nerves are peculiar things.
"I think, however, the worst experience which has befallen one of our photographers was that of the man we sent to take the pictures of a whale-hunting expedition. A fine school—I believe that is the correct term—of whales was sighted one day. The boats went in pursuit, and our photographer with his machine entered one of them. The crew of this boat managed to harpoon a fine big whale, who went through the sea at a terrific pace, dragging the boat behind him. Our photographer was just congratulating himself on getting some of the most realistic pictures ever obtained, when suddenly the whale doubled in its tracks, and, to make a long story short, smashed the boat. Luckily, another boat came up at the critical moment and rescued the crew and the photographer. But the latter is always bemoaning the fact that one of the finest sets of cinematograph pictures ever taken lies at the bottom of the Arctic Ocean."
Some of the most interesting pictures shown, however, are scenes taken en route while traveling by rail in various parts of the world. A special engine is chartered, and the operator, with his machine, takes his place on the front platform of the engine, or on a low truck which the engine pushes in front of it. Thus mile after mile of scenery is photographed as the engine rushes along. It is a rather ticklish job, particularly in wild regions where all sorts of animals stray on to the line, and there is a risk of collision and general smash.
Doubtless many readers are acquainted with the entertaining and novel manner in which these pictures are afterward shown. One sits in a stationary model of a railway carriage, the picture being thrown on a screen at the end. A motor underneath the carriage gives a realistic impression of the noise made by a train when traveling, and thus one seems to be rushing through the country which is being depicted on the screen. It is a novel notion, which is deserving of all the success and popularity it has attained.