Bow Out

The troubles of Cinemactress Clara Bow really began when Benjamin P. Schulberg, Paramount's Western managing director of production, then associate producer, signed her to make silent cinemas in 1925. She was then a well-stuffed Brooklyn redhead with a Coney Island character. Two years later, when she had been the incarnation of Author Elinor Glyn's It, she was the most famed cinemactress in the U. S. She had her name made into a big electric sign for her father to hang outside his Brooklyn restaurant.

Her troubles began in earnest a little more than a year ago. First, she was reported to have settled a large sum of cash on the wife of a Dr. Earl Pierson. Next, her engagement to Cabarctist Harry Richman was announced, overpublicized, abruptly broken. She lost $13,500 gambling at Calneva, Nev., and refused to pay. Finally came the trial of her thieving secretary, Daisy de Boe, who, in the effort to make it seem that her character had suffered from proximity to Cinemactress Bow, revealed that Clara Bow played poker six nights a week, bought herself a $10,000 engagement ring, gave rings and watches to her men friends--of whom Secretary de Boe mentioned Richman, Pierson, Gary Cooper, Lothar Mendez, Rex Bell. A Hollywood publisher of a weekly tabloid, Frederic H. Girnau, then printed Bow anecdotes, was charged with sending obscene matter through the mails. After the case was tried, Cinemactress Bow suffered a second nervous breakdown, had to stop work on The Secret Call, was taken to a sanatorium to rest.

Last week, when she was preparing to go to the ranch of friend Rex Bell for further recuperation. Executive Schulberg announced that Clara Bow's contract with Paramount, running till next October, had been cancelled at her request. Said he: "This ends a long and successful . . . affiliation. . . . We are all anxious to see you emerge as the greatest and most popular actress. . . ."

Clara Bow changed her dyed hair from its celebrated red to pale yellow to avoid recognition, dressed herself in jodhpurs, a silk polo shirt, a whip equipped with powder case. At Friend Bell's ranch she said: "I wanted my contract broken if Paramount saw fit so that I might get back on my feet again. . . . It's like leaving home to leave the studio after all these years, but I know it is the best thing for me to do." She declared that after resting, she would become a free lance again, mentioned screen offers from Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer and Howard Hughes, a bid from the Shuberts in Manhattan, bandied words regarding a 20-week stage tour at $20,000 a week. Also, the "It Girl" announced with a straight face: "I am going to write the story of my life--everything that's happened since I was three years old. I'm going to dedicate it to the Great American Public."

Observers wondered whether there would ever be any deals pending. They recalled the cases of:

The late Cinemactress Mabel Normand, whose career suffered when her name was mentioned in connection with the mysterious murder of Director William Desmond Taylor, and later when her chauffeur shot Courtland Dines, wealthy stockbroker.

Cinemactress Mary Miles Minter, whose retirement came also after Director Taylor's murder.

Cinemactress Mary Nolan, who had to change her name from Imogene Wilson because of unfavorable publicity she received after Funnyman Frank Tinney blacked her eyes.

The late Alma Rubens, who was swept off by a current of rumors that she was a drug addict.

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