Posts Tagged With: Rudolph Valentino

Hollywood’s search for a new male star to play the role of Rudolph Valentino matinee idol of the 1920’s reached out to Ft Bliss, Texas today where an Army private recommended his First Sergeant.  He is handsome the Soldier wrote and has a pair of eyes that are attractive enough to bring Betty Grable to this command.  Enclosed in the letter was a photograph one of more than 20,000 which have poured into the United Artists Office in New York since The Are You A Second Valentino Contest opened 1 April.  Many letters come from wives, who coyly insist their husbands are “the great lover of the century” or “a real swooning type and I should know”.  Men who write to suggest themselves are somewhat, more modest, qualifying their boasts of star material with such phrases as “of course, you would have to fix my nose? Or “I have no real sex experience, but I can learn”.  There are also please from young boys who insist Valentino should be shown as he looked in his teens and add each is the very to handle the role.  “My teacher said I could act good when I played the role of Old King Cole five years ago in grammar school” said one budding actor 19 years old.  A 15-year-old Chicago boy said bashfully that he knew he wasn’t the great lover type, but he would do his best, and the mother of a 17-year-old lad wrote that year son was young but very slick.  A policeman in Jacksonville, Florida asked for a chance to be a Valentino the Second and a Japanese girl wrote her brother now training to be a minister would be a great choice.  The judges – Mary Pickford, Edward Small, Gregory Ratoff, and Pola Negri will choose four winners who will be given $500 war bonds, trips to Hollywood and screen tests. The contest closes 15 June.

Fame has many fans. To be famous signifies the recognition of some sort of success achieved. And no surer fashion of determing the essential elements which make for higher popular acclaim can be found that which an individual exhibits in their handwriting. It is the intimatic link between the nerve-action of the hand and the mind. So when you regard the signatures of screen stars, you are looking squarely at the hgih or low lights switched on by the electrical currents of their personalities. The steady glow holds your attention. The power underneath you feel even if you do nnot know the cause.  For this reason, if for no other, there is a wide demand for the personally-written signatures of men and women prominent in this expression of the drama. Likewise, upon the signature every writer unconsciously places great stress in using certain strokes that declare the prominent traits. Handwriting is the natural private gesture of each person’s whole makeup, and you will see that it only requires the eye and mind working together to form a fair judgement. In the same healthy atmosphere travels R. Valentino, whose even well-poised first moves ambitiously upwards, gesturing with his rather flamboyant capitals, exclamatory of his intense vitality and the conscious belief in himself. Each carefully-connected stroke invites you to look into his active mind, beeming with an intense desire to make good. In each curve lurks a laugh. In the straight base-line, strengthened by the long underscoring sweep, be assured you frankly t hat he has a great deal of nerve and will never be satisfied until you meet him frequently.  That bold hook on the end of his “t” shows his grit, his clinching hold on every detail in order to produce in a versatile manner with artistic finesse. The way he gathers his letters together a clutch denotes his practical side. Once attempt to worst him by any ill treatment and his whole temperment will arise with an adequate come-back. It would surprise you, as he is tactful and pleasing in manner. by nature vitally strong, he is the type who will meet flame with flame and enter into the gaiety of living.  Yet, pressure being even, he understands the art of self-dominance. By this his advance along, the stellar way can be measured by the height of his signature. “Very High”!

In 1914, at the Waldorf Astoria Wedgewood Room, there was a shy dark featured young man who was paid $7 a week.  He always sat moody, tense and by himself in a corner. A woman patron when entered the ballroom was met by the manager who would clap his hands. Valentino must jump and dance with her and afterwards he hated it when the woman tipped him..