Star Fever had replaced Spring Fever in 1917 Santa Cruz, as three film companies vied for locations around the county that March. There was Dorothy Davenport’s epoch suffrage film “Mothers of Men,” written by her father-in-law, Hal Reid. Gene Stratton Porter’s novel “Freckles” was being filmed with a script co-written by Porter. ZaSu Pitts could be spotted around town, but she was only helping her family pack up and move to Hollywood. Cecil B. DeMille was coming to direct the 49er story “Other Men’s Boots.” This would star America’s Sweetheart herself, Mary Pickford, the first film star to be known by name. Back in 1905, Pickford played a freckled boy on stage in Hal Reid’s play “The Gypsy Girl,” and she become famous for her pathos, spunky humor and cascading tube curls, still playing child roles at age 24.
The newspaper kept announcing she would arrive shortly, but delay after delay occurred. Once, people dashed to the Casa Del Rey Hotel by the Boardwalk on the news that Pickford has arrived. But it was just her kid brother, Jack Pickford, a diminutive child star of 20. He was starring in “Freckles,” having had some acclaim the past two years in Booth Tarkington’s “Seventeen,” Pip in Charles Dickens’ “Great Expectations” and the lead in “Tom Sawyer.” In “Freckles,” Jack played a one-armed orphan who runs away when he tires of being tormented. He takes a watchman’s job in a timber camp called “The Limberlost.” Freckles falls in love with Angel but feels unworthy of her, saying nothing until a catastrophe reveals his affection. The story was filmed in both local redwood parks, San Vicente Lumber Camp, Cowell Cave, Hard Scrabble Ranch and W.B. Parson’s ranch in Scotts Valley.
Despite his prominence, Jack had the ability to blend into the crowd and freely enjoy Santa Cruz with his film pal, Robert E. Lee. Fresh out of snowy New York, the boys soon acquired a “Santa Cruz tan” from their daily swims. “Freckles” was being directed by Marshall “Mickey” Neilan, Mary’s former 1915 film co-star in “A Girl of Yesterday” and “Madame Butterfly.” Mickey was a lighthearted fellow, full of fun, charm, inspiration and alcohol. During their stay, Jack and Robert were surprised when they started receiving love telegrams, only each signed “Baby.” Were they from the same person or different Babys? At one time, they took to arguing in the St. George Lobby as to whom she seemed to like best. The quiet instigator of this mayhem turned out to be director Neilan himself, hoping to dim their ardor with the local ladies.
At last Mary had been spotted in the gardens of the Casa Del Rey. Mary was startled by the adoring crowds, and as she fled someone cried, “My God! Her hair is gone!” Indeed, the eternal adolescent had cut her trademark curls, and looked more the married woman that she was. A spokesman said Mary wouldn’t give interviews, and disgruntled reporters wrote “America’s Sweetheart is a bit of a snob!”
This bad impression might have stuck, were it not for a previous interview with Jack Pickford by the Sentinel’s 79-year-old reporter and author, Josephine Clifford McCrackin. By the end of the interview, Jack was calling her grandma. Jack told McCrackin that Mary was depressed about her studio career, having been put in two of the biggest bombs of her career. Jack persuaded Mary to regard McCrackin as a friend. Thus, Mary unburdened.
Poor girl
Mary’s just-completed movie “Poor Little Rich Girl” was filmed in December 1916, written by her friend Frances Marion, who loved Mary’s comic improvisations, which boggled the director trying to follow the logic. Mary had long been the public’s model of childhood, while having never had one. By age 13, Mary was called “Little Mother” as her stage work supported her widowed mother, sister Lottie and brother Jack. Her only childhood was what she invented before the camera, with the joy of experiencing it for the first time. Mary could hardly wait to show the studio heads that “Poor Little Rich Girl” was her masterpiece, a girl lost in “A Home of Everything — But Love.” It was a “Wizard of Oz for Wall Street,” seen through the eyes of a little girl. Yet studio heads watched it in grim-faced silence, muttering that they couldn’t release it without destroying Pickford’s career. As a result, Mary lost script approval and promised to adopt a more obedient approach with her directors.
When Mary met Douglas Fairbanks, she was surprised he treated her with respect and even valued her opinion. It was such a contrast to her own husband, actor Owen Moore, who only felt good belittling his more talented wife. In December 1916, Douglas Fairbanks joined Mary in a ride through Central Park, New York. He discussed the recent death of his mother and unexpectedly began to cry. Mary comforted him, touched by his vulnerability, and she felt the stirrings of love for Douglas. She went back to her apartment and realized she couldn’t have Douglas because he was married but couldn’t stand the cruelties of her own husband. Her bleak mood during that snowy winter evening made her contemplate jumping out her high window. But she realized it would leave her family without a dependable source of income, so she called her mom to come and take her away from all this. With help from her studio, Mary was sent to Santa Cruz for a working vacation.
Yet the plotline of DeMille’s film was disturbingly reminiscent. The story has her going to meet her uncle in Gold Rush California, packing her petticoats and frillery, quite unsuited to a wilderness cabin. But she discovers a different man in her uncle’s clothes, who’d found her uncle dead on the road from an ambush. Quickly switching clothes, the lynch mob catches up and thinks the dead man is the outlaw. The niece is held prisoner by this handsome ruffian, finally going along with the ruse when she finds the low life town folk won’t believe the truth. “Other Men’s Boots” was a bad title for a Mary Pickford vehicle, and the cast and crew showed interest in efforts to preserve the redwoods, so the name was changed to “A Romance of the Redwoods.” Yet the story was less a “romance,” and more like Stockholm syndrome. While the redwoods were a peaceful setting, it was a painful film for Mary to make, reminding her that her marriage was a sham, and her career had become a burden.
Meanwhile, Mary learned of other films shot nearby in 1916. Cecil B. DeMille filmed “Trail of the Lonesome Pine” on Graham Hill and Big Trees Grove. And Douglas Fairbanks had filmed in these same redwoods in 1916. It was “The Half Breed,” based on Bret Harte’s story “In Carquinez Wood,” condemning the randomness of white prejudice against various minorities.
On March 16, 1917, McCrackin helped organize a Casa Del Rey ball in Mary’s honor, to make her feel welcome in Santa Cruz, and let the public meet their idol. Touched by this outpouring of affection, Mary announced that she had made McCrackin her adopted grandmother, and the two hugged. Mary said her mother was a wonderful dancer, and she’d so liked her to be here for this, but her recent operation made that impossible, and Mary shed a tear. There was a question-and-answer session, then Pickford danced with Mayor Fred Howe, then with co-star Elliott Dexter. Mary said how much she loved Santa Cruz and her people and expected to return to Santa Cruz. The crowds asked when, and Mary said “Soon!”
Feeling doomed
After leaving the county, Mary and Frances passed by a theater marquee, and Mary exclaimed, “Oh my God, they released ‘Poor Little Rich Girl!’ My career is over!” Marion said, “They had to release it, because it was presold to theaters. Let’s go see it.” Mary protested, “And relive my greatest humiliation?” “Yes!” Frances insisted. “We need to hear audience reaction, to know how to correct what went so terribly wrong.” So they dressed incognito and sat in the back of the balcony. But as the film progressed, people seemed to be laughing in the right places. Were they just not as sophisticated as the studio heads? But no, the comedy was as funny as Mary and Frances remembered it, and the fantasy scenes built on the girl’s misunderstandings. The ending grew into a crescendo of applause.
Mary and Frances laughed and cried with relief. It was a hit! The sour studio heads were now making a fortune on a film they had wanted to kill! This put Mary in a power position. She was a highly paid producer and wanted no more vows of obedience that compromised her vision. She would never again be scolded for a film not previewed by a real audience. She hired her favorite screenwriter, Frances Marion, and favorite director, Mickey Neilan, and formed a nucleus of playful creators with whom work was a delight.
As promised, she returned to Santa Cruz in May 1917, this time with her trademark tube curls back. She came to film Kate Douglas Wiggin’s novel “Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm.” Frances constructed scenes by recalling her own childhood, bringing tears to Mary’s eyes, that she could only experience someone else’s childhood. But production was freewheeling, with comedic improvisation, enthusiasm and pathos. The film was shot in Pleasanton and Niles Canyon, with the farm being Hunsucker Ranch on Glen Canyon Road near Scotts Valley. The kid’s circus scene was in the Hunsucker barn, which included ZaSu Pitts observing the show with binoculars and getting hit with hay. Neilan broke tradition when he hired freckle-face actor Wesley Barry, as other directors forced kids to hide their freckles under makeup. Scenes were also shot at Felton post office and in Ben Lomond.
Further watching
You can find full movies online with Santa Cruz connections. From 1916 and 1917 are “The Half Breed” (once lost, now restored), “Poor Little Rich Girl,” “A Romance of the Redwoods,” and “Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm.” More Mary Pickford next week.