Geraldine Farrar Came Back to Filmland to Visualize Joan of Arc

"Jerry on the Job"

By Kenneth McGaffey

Any person in the audience who desires to experience in one brief moment the sensation of a full sized earthquake, coupled with all the horrors of the European war, let him stand on the corner of Vine Street and Selma Avenue, Hollywood, California, U.S.A., and say one word against Geraldine Farrar. It would not be necessary to say it very loud, but immediately thereafter things would begin to happen.

There have been people in Hollywood before, and probably will be again, of whom the motion picture people think well, and speak of quite highly, but there has never been anyone, nor will there ever be anyone, who has the unanimous respect and love and admiration as has "Our Jerry."

When she came to the Lasky studio in the summer of 1915 to appear in Carmen, Temptation and Maria Rosa, the motion picture fraternity was more or less demoralized at the prospect. They had heard startling and vivid stories of the eccentricities of prima donnas, and were at a loss to know just what to expect.

There is a strong comradeship among motion picture people, from extras to stars- and how would this interloper behave? Would she be surrounded by servants,- be lofty and disdainful, overbearing and particular? Scandal mongers around the lot said likely as not she would be all of these- and more- that she would not deign to step on a mere wooden stage, but must have velvet carpets spread before her wherever she chose to wander- that everybody would have to be subordinate to her and bow low at her approach. Even the cowboys who are the least respectful of persons, held a meeting and announced that they were going to live on the ranch during the diva's stay. Everyone was on the qui vive, and did everything to prevent the outburst which they felt would come at the first opportunity.

Miss Farrar arrived in a private car accompanied by her parents, a manager, secretary, several maids, a hair dresser and other servants. She went to the home that had been provided for her by the Lasky Company, and did not appear at the studio until the next day. Her motor had no sooner turned into Vine Street than the news of her pending arrival reached the studio. The more nervous hunted seclusion, while those who must of necessity remain, bowed their heads for the blows they expected would come.

Everything was prepared- the doors flew open, she was escorted to her elaborate dressing room suite, and her approval of it was awaited with bated breath. The company had erected a building for the housing of the diva and the suite included a reception room, in which was a grand piano, dressing room, and the walls were hung with chiffon and resplendent with glass mirrors.

The singer was delighted- she was enthusiastic- she was overwhelmed; the architect who designed the building must be called in and thanked; the interior decorator who provided the furniture and draperies must be called in and thanked the people who had arranged the flowers must be called in for their praise- and then she took a walk around the studio. Everything was just splendid and she just knew that she was going to enjoy every minute there. The wiseacres hung back, shook their heads, and said- "Just wait. It is all right now, but when something happens that she doesn't like- look out."

Shortly the day came for the beginning of her first picture. She was to appear for the first time in her life before the motion picture camera and be told what to do. Bomb proofs were very popular with the more timid members of her company who had been formally introduced to her, and they remained discretely in the background until Miss Farrar rose from where she was sitting, crossed the stage and asked them to explain a certain thing to her.

Rehearsals began- everything went lovely- lunch time came, and when Mr. De Mille suggested that there would be time for a brief rest, the singer was having too much fun. "Let me give a party," she exclaimed and forthwith sent out for lunch for the entire organization.

Several days later the cowboys began to creep in from the ranch. "Our Jerry" met them and thanked them for the part they had taken in her reception. Within two days she knew the life story of each one and they decided to give her a rodeo at Griffith Park, an exhibition of broncho busting and rough riding. "Our Jerry" attended and was delighted. She enjoyed every moment of it and insisted upon personally thanking the daring riders. Then the cowboys got together and presented her with a pony which she graciously accepted and promptly proceeded to ride every morning before going to the studio.

While waiting for rehearsals, music was the chief topic for discussion and to illustrate some point, "Our Jerry" would go over to the piano and all work would be hushed while carpenters and all drank in the glorious music of her voice.

Never during the entire summer was there an unpleasant moment- never was there a second that "Our Jerry" was not the most lovely person imaginable; never for an instant was there the attitude of "I am the star, I must have my way;" never was there an attempt to take a scene away from anyone else, a custom of stars. Finally "Our Jerry" had to return east. When she left the studio, it was discovered that there was not a soul whom she had not remembered in some way- even the Japanese boy who cleans up the studio grinned with delight over some little thoughtful memento. Everybody was downright sorry to see her go, but heaved a sigh of relief that everything had gone so well during her stay.

Then the announcement came of her marriage to Lou-Tellegen, whom she had met at our studio. Then the whispers began. Dressing room 16 informed dressing room 15 that she knew the first day they met it would be a match- and everybody was delighted.

Then "Our Jerry" came out again- and again stepped into their hearts. Not a bit changed- only that she was clinging to the arm of her handsome husband. She was as glad to see everybody as they were to see her, and in spite of her nine months' absence, she had not forgotten a name or a face.

A production of what was then known as "The Big Picture" began, and "Our Jerry" threw herself into it, body and soul. She arrived at the studio every morning at nine, was frequently there at two and three the following morning- and rarely, if ever, left before eight in the evening.

But before she began work on "The Big Picture," "Our Jerry" had nearly a week's vacation, and as there was a grand opera company in Los Angeles who desired her services for one or more performances, she was made all kinds of flattering offers to sing- but all of these were rejected, and finally she was asked to name her own figures for one performance, but she was obliged to refuse on the grounds that she had to read a scenario- but she was still always willing to oblige the studio.

The first thing that she discovered was that Joan of Arc wore her hair bobbed. Wigs wouldn't do, so "Our Jerry" promptly called in her hair dresser and had the famous raven tresses cut off to conform with history.

Her suit of silver armor was finished several days before the work on the picture began, and "Our Jerry" clumped heavily around the studio to become accustomed to its hundred pounds of weight.

At the ranch, where the battle scenes were taken, there were many long delays, and for hours she sat in the hot sun, encased in this heavy metal without a word of protest. She was always willing to mount her horse and go through a scene again and again until Mr. De Mille considered it perfect.

Wonderfully democratic, there is many an extra girl who now cherishes a hair pin proffered in an emergency from the diva's dressing table.

Finally came the scenes where her army attacked the fortress of La Tourelle. To prevent any signs of fakiness in the hand to hand fight, Mr. De Mille offered a bonus to the English if they succeeded in capturing Joan, and to the French if they prevented it.

It meant a great deal to the hundreds of people if they could but lay hands on the diva. She charged into the lines of the English, at the head of her men, and the fighting started.

The objective point was the breach in the fortress wall. Every inch of the distance was contested. Cameras whirred and hummed, directors shouted. and many a head was sadly battered. Surrounded by her army, Joan finally reached the moat, and there she stood in water up to her waist for nearly three hours. Mr. De Mille asked her if she didn't want to come out and rest- but "Our Jerry" replied- "If the boys can stand it, I think I can."

During the fight in the moat, one of her own men, in trying to protect her, accidentally knocked her steel helmet off. Nothing was said about it at the time. That night a delegation of indignant French and English soldiers caught the careless one as he left the studio and tossed him in a blanket. By the time they were through with him, the careless one knew that "Our Jerry's" helmet was not to be ignored. The next day the scenes where the French captured the upper parapet of La Tourelle were taken and Mr. De Mille offered a bonus to several of the men if they would fall off from this parapet and make the forty-foot drop into the moat below. Forty feet is quite a drop for a man in armor and the men, fearful of being injured, jumped instead of falling. It was tried several times and still the men could not get up the courage to fall. Finally Mr. De Mille remarked quietly to "Our Jerry"- "I guess the men are afraid to do it- we will have to cut out that scene."

"Our Jerry" replied, "Yes, I am afraid so, but it would be very effective."

That night Mr. De Mille received a note signed by twenty-five of the extra men to the effect that if he would make the scene over, they would guarantee to fall and not jump from the top of the wall, and unless it was done to the entire satisfaction of both Miss Farrar and himself, they wanted no money for it. Next day the scene was re-taken and the wall rained struggling men. They fell in twos and threes into the moat. Several were slightly injured by having other steel-clad companions clash down upon them, but the doctor was always there and outside of a few cuts and bruises, nothing serious befell them. In fact, both armies seemed to glory in their wounds, for the next day they had the pleasure of being asked by "Our Jerry" if they were all right.

During the scenes where Joan, in a cart, was being driven to the stake in the Square of Rouen, several hundred people were employed who had not been continually associated with the taking of the picture. One of these individuals who was privileged to gaze for the first time upon "Our Jerry," thoughtlessly remarked to his neighbor, "Humph- I don't think she is so much." After the ambulance had driven slowly away, the doctor explained that the reason why the man had not been instantly killed was the fact that so many people reached for him at the same time none of the blows landed with their full force. There was only a slight commotion in the mob and probably "Our Jerry" never noticed it, and if she reads this, it will undoubtedly be the first time she has heard of the incident- the man is still in the hospital.

The day of "Our Jerry's" departure came on apace; ten or twelve of the principal members of her cast got together and decided they should give her some little souvenir to take back East with her. Then the other members of the company heard about it and demanded that they be privileged to present her with something, and it became noised about the studio. The carpenter department of some two hundred and fifty men and the technical and electric department- all demanded a right to be included in the selection of the gift. Then the extras heard of it and a committee representing somethree thousand, demanded that they be permitted to raise a fund that would, go towards the purchase of a suitable present for the diva. Consultations, confabs, conferences and conventions were held. Every jeweler in Los Angeles was stark, raving mad because he did not have anything with which "Our Jerry's" admirers could fittingly express their affection. There was nothing in the entire city that could be found that was appropriate and everything from a wrist watch to a diamond tiara and a gold dinner service was considered.

Finally some happy individual hit upon the idea of a mirror. One of the leading jewelers and his corps of experts was called in and at last one was designed.

A gold fleur de lis on the back bears the crests of her faithful follower- from Domremy to the stake in Rouen. On the silver background are the autographs of all the principal members of her company. Upon the handle is the silver base relief of the Maid in armor and it is so arranged that all the cast is at her feet. On the front, below the lass are the names of the executive staff.

In spite of all the whispering around the studio, the diva knew nothing of the coming gift, and it was finally decided to present it the day she was to leave for the East and while their introduction scenes were being taken.

Cecil D. De Mille, director-general, cooperated with them, and during the noon hour the entire studio gathered about the scene. Miss Farrar came from her dressing room and remarked to a friend- "Isn't it remarkable? I have been doing some truly wonderful scenes in costume and no one noticed me. Now when I wear a modern frock, the entire studio turns out."

Lucy, her maid, carried the mirror on a tray covered with a towel just as he was about to "shoot" the introduction, Mr. De Mille called the diva's attention to a disarranged bit of hair, and she summoned Lucy to her. Lucy raised the towel. Miss Farrar reached for the familiar ebony-backed mirror-jerked her band back involuntarily, and then slowly picked up the mirror. She caught a glimpse of the spirit of the thing and burst into tears. Husband Lou was standing near, and "Our Jerry" jumped up ran over to him threw her arms around him crying. By this time the whole studio was more or less choked up over the simple sincerity in which their remembrance had been received.

Finally "Our Jerry" went back down in the chair and tried to say something- but could not. She went to her dressing room and a little later wrote the following note to the organization:


"My heart is too full to adequately express the sentiments that surge within me at the presentation of the beautiful gift this morning. My hearty thanks toward those valiant comrades who have followed the Maid from Domremy through the glorious triumphs of the battlefield and coronation to prison and martyrdom, whether it be in even through the merciless eye of the camera, or from the second story window of the costume department and the property room- I thank you one and all and my tears are of joy though they did leave me ashamed and silent. Thanks- thanks."

(Signed) "Joan of Arc."


We were all sorry to see her leave and her wonderful democracy and kindness have made a big hole in everybody's heart. It was found out after she left here, that again, there was not a person around the studio whom she had not in some way remembered.

Kenneth McGaffey, "Jerry on the Job," Photoplay Magazine, January, 1917, pages 33-42.