Some thoughts on creating new music for a newly discovered Mary Pickford film

Silent film superstar Mary Pickford leads her fellow orphans through a perilous swamp in a highlight from 'Sparrows' (1926).

Greetings! If you're new to this site and checking it out in connection with the recent world "re-premiere" of Mary Pickford's 'Their First Misunderstanding' (1911), I want to say welcome, and thank you for your interest.

I'm the guy doing the music for 'Their First Misunderstanding' and the other films on the program, which is Friday, Oct. 11 at 7 p.m. at Keene State College in Keene, N.H. Hosted by Pickford expert and biographer Christel Schmidt, this event is a fairly big deal in the vintage film community, and I'm honored to be a part of it.

For me, the program is special not only because it features a rediscovered Pickford film. It's also exciting because the whole experience is designed to demonstrate the power of silent film when shown as it was intended: on the big screen, in good-looking prints, with live music, and (most importantly) with a large audience on hand.

In doing live music for silent film programs around New England and elsewhere, I've found again and again that if you can "put Humpty Dumpty back together" and recreate the conditions under which the films were shown, then movies from the peak of the silent era (roughly 1914 to 1929) can come to life in ways that can be surprising.

At their best, when everything's working and an audience is under the spell of a film from the silent era, you get a real sense of why people first fell in love with the movies.

For me, there's nothing like the communal experience of running a well-made silent film to a receptive audience. It's a real rush. And silent films are often about the big emotions: Love, Hate, Revenge, Joy, Anger, and so on. I really respond to that, so much so that I'm eager to share the films with others.

And as an accompanist, it's my privilege (and challenge) to try to create music that helps the films have their intended effect, as best I can. As I sometimes joke, my artistic niche is that I collaborate with dead people!

My method is to create original music that uses the vocabulary and technique of today's film scores to help bridge the gap between a contemporary audience and a film from another era. I improvise the music as the movie plays, either on a digital synthesizer (which can evoke the texture of a full orchestra) or on a traditional acoustic piano.

It's a bit of a high wire act, sort of like a "Who's Line Is It, Anyway?" for film scoring. But I find that improvising in real time (rather than trying to follow sheet music) allows me to get inside the movie more effectively, and also to work better with any audience reaction. (Sometimes I think I accompany the audience as much as the film.)

In the case of 'Their First Misunderstanding,' I haven't yet seen the film as of this writing, and the program is tomorrow night. I may get a chance to preview it prior to the show at Keene State College, but if not, I'm prepared to play it "cold," as they say, without a chance to preview.

How do you do that? Well, you just sit down and watch the film with everyone else, except you have a keyboard in front of you and you get to react by playing music. The goal is to help the film come to life, even if you've never seen it before. Sometimes it all falls together perfectly; other times, the film goes in unexpected directions and you do your best to keep up.

All that aside, I want to welcome you to the world of silent film, which finds itself right now in a kind of golden age. Thanks to digital restoration and DVD releases, it's now possible to see hundreds of great films from the silent era that were previously unavailable. So there's a renewed interest in the period.

However, there's no substitute for seeing the films as they were intended: on the big screen, with live music, and with an audience. So I encourage you to seek out screenings in theaters and with live music whenever possible.

If you're new to silent film and enjoyed the Pickford program, it's my pleasure to welcome you to other screenings that I do all around New England and beyond. A complete list (regularly updated) is on this blog; just click on the Upcoming Silent Film Screenings link.

Thanks again for your interest in silent film, and hope to see you at an upcoming screening!

The challenge of scoring Harold Lloyd's 'Safety Last' (1923)

'Safety Last' (1923) is a film I have a long history with. So, as I prepare to do music for a pair of screenings (in Somerville, Mass. on Sunday, Oct. 6, and then in Plymouth, N.H. on Thursday, Oct. 10), let me try to get my thoughts in order.

Growing up, I had read about Harold Lloyd's famous building climb and other stunts, but had never seen any of them because his films weren't available anywhere. So it was a real revelation to me in 1980 when our local PBS station began running edited versions of the Time-Life editions of Harold's films, which were produced in 1974.

And there it was: 'Safety Last,' preceded by an excerpt from 'Hot Water' (1924) and also a title card describing Harold's climb of a 12-story building, done without trick photography, as a milestone in motion picture history.

Watching the movie alone in the basement in my pajamas on a Saturday morning, I was bowled over. To me, 'Safety Last' was like Beethoven's 5th Symphony. Everyone knows the four opening notes, just like everyone knows the picture of Harold hanging from the clock. But just as I was amazed to discover that Beethoven's opening notes are only the beginning of 40 minutes of dramatic and exciting and exhilarating music, I was also thrilled to find that 'Safety Last' was so much more than Harold clinging to a minute hand.

No! It was a whole world in which Harold was forced to jump from one crazy situation to another, all of it leading inexorably, even logically, to the need to climb that building. The way it was laid out in the movie, it could happen to anyone. It could happen to me! (Though I hoped not.)

Most surprising was the music, which I instantly loved! It was a kind of Dixieland jazz, with other more dramatic stuff when needed, and it really seemed to make Harold's world compete. To me, it was like what Woody Allen had done in 'Sleeper' (1974), which I saw on TV a few years before in its network premiere. Dixieland jazz pumped everything up in a way I really responded to, and in a way that made silent comedy strut in a way that no other music could.

If you're interested, here's a YouTube clip that uses some of the music, starting with what was supposed to be Harold's "theme song": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g1r2zH2fzuI

At the time, all I remembered was the music was credited to the "Crescent City Jazz Band." For some reason, I concluded that the "Crescent City" was Kansas City, and so for years I was on the lookout for other albums or recordings of this nifty Dixieland jazz band from the heartland.

Well, turns out there's no such thing, in Kansas City or anywhere. And yes, I now realize that New Orleans is the Crescent City, so I was more off than I realized. I also know the "Crescent City Jazz Band" was a made-up name for a group of studio musicians in London, where the tracks were recorded in 1974.

The music for these Time-Life releases was actually created by two people: the bouncy theme song was written by Neal Hefti, a heavyweight composer/arranger of the era whose credits include the iconic "na-na-na-na-na-na-na" theme for the 1960s Batman TV show. How's that for an impressive pedigree?

But all the other music, done in a style that followed Hefti's lead, was created by an obscure film composer and pianist named Don Hulette, who was active in Los Angeles in the 1970s, doing music for pictures such as 'Breaker Breaker' (1978), a Chuck Norris action/adventure flick. He then seems to have faded from the scene.

Alas, Hulette died in 2008 at the age of 70. But it was his music that presided over my first encounter with Harold Lloyd, and at the time, it couldn't have seemed more ideal. Even before I was doing film music, I regarded the Lloyd Time-Life releases to be a perfect match of music to visual.

So I was surprised later to find that a lot of people actually despise the Time-Life editions of Harold's work, including the music. What?!

But it's true—among knowledgeable film people, the Time-Life editions are regarded as unfortunate desicrations. A lot of this stems from the fact that Time-Life chopped the Lloyd features into half-hour segments to run on TV, and also made them into a kind of "old-timey nostalgia" package, complete with corny narration.

I've never seen any of these episodes, but they do sound awful.

However, the Time-Life project also produced full scores for reissues of most of the big Lloyd features, and all of them were done with Hulette's jazzy tracks. These are what I responded strongly too, and I still regard as some of the best silent film scoring ever done.

True, Hulette (who played piano on the tracks) and the London studio players recorded only maybe a dozen segments, which were then used over and over again in scoring the different features, with some custom stuff for sequences such as the 'Safety Last' building climb. But to me, that familiarity sort of helped Harold's world hold together, and still does. Just as Lloyd's glasses were an essential part of his character and were carried over from film to film, so was Hulette's music, at least to me.

Of course there's no one right way to score a film. But what feels "right" to us is often influenced, consciously or not, by the first music we hear with a film. It's the same principle as the "first-mover advantage" in business: whoever's first in the market usually has a leg up on the me-too competition that follows.

So for Harold, with me it was the Hulette scores. They're just perfect, it seems to me, in capturing the mood of Lloyd's stories and sequences, with their buoyant optimism tinged with just a little terror or sometimes melancholy. And, most importantly, they really help the comedy come across.

A great example of how effective they are is how the opening of 'Safety Last' is scored. Opening scene: Harold behind bars, a noose hanging in the distance, is accompanied by a plaintive dirge straight out of a Tchaikovsky slow movement. It's a great set-up for what follows: a quick cut shows Harold at a busy train station, at which Hulette's music launches into a raucous high-stepping Dixieland strut.

But what happens next is very instructive. Even as Harold bids goodbye to Mildred, and she pleads with him to send "nothing but GOOD news," and mother and minister trade knowing nods, the music just keeps cranking along. No shift to drama. No nod to the significance of Mildred's words that will lead to the mess that Harold will find himself in. Instead, the music carries us along, just like Harold's optimism carries him along to what will certainly be trouble, but we don't quite know now.

Somehow that works to set up this comedy in a way that more detailed scoring wouldn't, I think. It's another example of less being more. Let the film do its work, especially at the beginning.

Also, the texture is important. Hulette's scoring uses a small Dixieland ensemble of maybe eight or ten musicians, tops. It ain't no symphony orchestra. But somehow it's exactly enough to give a comedy—either Lloyd's or anyone else's, really—a certain kind of lift without weighing it down.

I think this is an important principle. It's my impression that comedies don't do so well with audiences when accompanied by large traditional orchestras. There's a temptation to want to do too much, when it's more important to provide a kind of rhythmic framework that supports to comedy and otherwise takes a back seat, I think. Hulette's scores offer a great balance in this regard.

A few years later, I brought my appreciation for 'Safety Last' to Fordham University, where I became a member of Cinevents, the campus film society. There I became known for my continuing advocacy of silent film and 'Safety Last' in particular, which I'm pleased to say we showed via a 16mm print of the Time-Life edition, complete with Hulette's music, which was one of the high points of my undergraduate years.

(One of the low points was when we got a 16mm print of Keaton's 'The General' (1926) with no soundtrack. This was before I did live music for films, and so the solution was to play a cassette tape of Vivaldi's 'The Seasons' during the film, since so much of Vivaldi sounds like a train chugging along. It worked great until the big battle seasons, which were accompanied by 'Spring.')

Some years later, 'Safety Last' played a big role in my trying my hand at silent film accompaniment. What happened was that the film was showing at an area revival house (no names, please), and so I went with a couple of friends, preparing to renew my acquaintance with one of the great thrill rides of cinema.

We were surprised to find that the print had no soundtrack (shades of 'The General' above) and further surprised that the management had elected to have the film accompanied by a CD of Scott Joplin piano rags played endlessly, one after another.

And guess what? It killed most of the comedy, and completely robbed the film of any of its intended dramatic impact. It just flattened it!

"Geez," I thought. "Even I could do better than this." And so it was another little push in the direction of taking up the art of live film accompaniment.

And yes, within a few years I had done just that. And then it was time for me to tackle 'Safety Last' with my own music, at a screening at the historic Palace Theatre in Manchester, N.H., the grand finale to our multi-day "Mirthquake" vintage film festival of 2008.

This show was coming at the end of four days of continuous screening of films, most of them silent and all of them accompanied by me. And my synthesizer, which I'd been carting from place to place, finally had enough. Just before showtime at the Palace, it died. And that was that.

Turned out my power adapted had somehow burned out, and there was no getting a replacement on a Sunday afternoon. So we went with an improvised Plan B: we brought the Palace's old Steinway grand out of cubbyhole backstage, dusted it off, and suddenly it was time to do a piano score to Lloyd's iconic film.

Unfortunately, the screen (hung from a fly) was positioned so far downstage that the piano had to be perched right at the edge for me to be able to see the image, even in a highly distorted way. It was like watching a movie from the most comically bad seat imaginable! Even worse, however, was that no light from the screen was bouncing down to the piano's keyboard, and I had no light of my own. So, after the lights went down, I suddenly found myself flying blind.

How did it work? Harold's films always work, even when the score is a little more dissonant than expected. And the publicity value alone made the stunt worth it—there's a small group of people who continue to bring up that screening, with its last-minute piano substitute, as an exciting movie experience unlike any other.

I guess in terms of 'Safety Last,' Harold's not the only one who learns how to benefit from a publicity stunt. So maybe my synthesizer might just fail at the last minute prior to these two upcoming screenings. What will we do?

Come to the screenings and find out! :)

Sunday, Sept. 29, 2013: Day 6 on the road / Topeka, Kansas

The Hanover Pancake House in Topeka, Kansas.

Here's a post that's not really about silent film. We'll see.

Driving back from the Keaton Celebration in Iola, Kansas to Kansas City, I stopped in Topeka for lunch at the Hanover Pancake House, a local restaurant to which I have a strange attachment.

This is where I came for lunch all by myself one rainy Saturday back in March, 2000, during my first visit to the Kansas Silent Film Festival.

I had just seen Buster Keaton's 'The Cameraman' (1928) with live music from the Mont Alto Motion Picture Orchestra, which I'd never heard live before.

The picture resonated with me profoundly for many reasons, but mostly because it reawakened me to the immense possibilities that are all around us if we're just creative enough to recognize them.

I was at a low ebb and it was exactly what I needed.

By the way, I've just read the most perceptive analysis of 'The Cameraman' I've ever encountered. It's by a young cinema enthusiast and blogger I met earlier this month in Brandon, Vt., and it's really, really worthwhile and filled with insightful comments. Check it out.

So there I was, sitting in a booth as rain pelted the window, a sense of optimism and even excitement about life growing within me thanks to the film I'd just come 1,000 miles to see.

I picked up the menu and saw something unexpected: fried and breaded pickle spears. Really? Why not?

And so they came: five of them, with a small dish of ranch dressing. I didn't know what to expect, just as I didn't know what to expect from the Kansas Silent Film Festival, but went anyway.

I found I really liked fried pickles. And ever since, they've been synonymous with rebirth and renewal. And not just any fried pickles, but the way they do them at the Hanover Pancake House, which is unusual: they serve complete spears, each breaded and fried, with the pickle inside often too hot to eat for a little while.

I went back to the festival, made new friends, and started on a fresh path that eventually led to founding a new business and so many other things. Somehow the Kansas Silent Film Festival and the Hanover Pancake House became tangible touchstones of renewal and positive energy for me.

So of course I went back, both to the festival and to the Hanover Pancake House, which hasn't changed (except there's now no smoking) and the fried pickles, which they continue to carry. And I went back not just once, but every since year since. (And sometimes in the off-season, such as this pit stop.) We all need our rituals, and this has become one of mine.

And it's odd that a restaurant that hasn't changed, seemingly, since it opened in 1969, would emerge as a personal symbol of renewal. But it did, and it felt right, and I just accepted that as one more random aspect of life that need not conform to some pattern or expectation. Why should it have to? Not everything needs to be explained, you know.

But a few years ago, I saw a photo of the the aftermath of the great F5 tornado that struck Topeka in 1966. It came at the city from the southwest, destroying a lot of Washburn University (home of the silent film festival) and carving a wide swath of devastation right up to the southern part of Topeka's downtown on Kansas Ave.

In fact, right up to where the Hanover Pancake House was.

The large cement water tower survived the tornado and still stands today. The Hanover Pancake House is located right across the street in the photo on the right.

And then it all made sense. I had wondered why Topeka's old downtown core just stopped on the south end, giving way to a random collection of low buildings and open spaces, including the Hanover Pancake House. Now I knew. It was because the whole area had been wiped off the map in 1966.

Talk about a place for renewal!

I pondered this during my off-season visit while the staff coped with a gigantic church group that arrived in two vans. It was Sunday, and the church-goers had already had their religious experience. As the fried pickles came out, I was just about to have mine.

Saturday, Sept. 28, 2013: Day 5 on the road / Iola, Kansas

That's me flanked by Barbara Talmadge (Buster Keaton's daughter-in-law) and Melissa Talmadge Cox, Buster's granddaugther, after accompanying a screening of 'Seven Chances' (1925).

Heavy lifting today: live music for two feature films plus a good amount of impromptu fill-in. At daybreak, torrential rains as thunderstorms moved through. Worked all morning, then attended the afternoon Keaton Celebration sessions at the Bowlus Center.

First up was Kate Guyonvarch of the Chaplin Office with archive materials about Chaplin's film 'Limelight' (1952), a presentation highlighted by a clip of the scene with Keaton and Chaplin performing together.

Then came an on-stage conversation with Melissa Talmadge Cox (Buster's granddaughter) and Buster's daughter-in-law Barbara Talmadge, who played tennis on Charlie Chaplin's court and is still going strong as she closes in on 90.

Barbara tells a good story, and I hope someone sits down and thoroughly interviews her at some point. Both ladies had stories not only of Buster, but also the two "aunts," Norma Talmadge and Constance "Dutch" Talmadge.

And then I was up with music for 'Her Sister From Paris' (1925), a funny battle-of-the-sexes romantic comedy starring Dutch and Ronald Colman. It's set in Vienna, and includes a couple specific references to "The Blue Danube" waltz, so I had to get that under my fingers and ready to go.

Things fell together quite naturally, helped by the excellent condition of the Bowlus Center's 1911 Steinway grand. What a joy to skip among those keys! It really makes a difference in terms of what kind of music you can do.

The highlight for me was a sequence where a sidekick character is asked to go play a piano to cover the noise of Talmadge and Colman stealing away. He indulges in some kind of intense romantic ballad (to express his own longing for Connie), and that's what I played, even though most of the footage was devoted to the two would-be lovers.

And then, after the plot threads were tied up, I brought back the romantic ballad music for real underneath the closing scenes, which I felt lent a really effective touch. Sometimes that happens!

Near the end, I began to get that feeling that I was in fact nailing it, which is always a rush. Response was very generous, and folks afterwards had some very kind words to say about the music.

Then dinner at El Charro, a Mexican place in downtown Iola, and then back to the Bowlus for 'Seven Chances' (1925) preceded by a mixed bag of short subjects and other material.

Got laughs when Bill Shaffer announced that they'd try to keep on schedule, and I snuck in with the opening bar of Handel's 'Hallelujah' chorus. Also when Kate Guyonvarch came up to translate the French titles in the rediscovered footage from Keaton's 'Blacksmith' and I launched into the opening bars of "La Marseille."

We saw a few minutes of newly rediscovered footage of Keaton and Joe Roberts in 'The Blacksmith' that was quite good. And I had a good time doing music for Chaplin's 'One a.m.,' which I didn't realize I'd be doing and hadn't seen in years.

Also on the program: improvised music for a nice video tribute to festival co-founder Fred Krebs, who passed away last December. There was also music to go with the announcement of next year's festival, or so I thought.

For this, I plunged in with all keys blazing in my best 20th Century Fox fanfare style, only to see the on screen text announcing that there would in fact be NO Keaton Celebration next year.

What? Was this a joke? Continue the fanfare? Change to funeral music? What was going on?

I then remembered an announcement for the 50th anniversary celebration of the Bowlus Fine Arts Center for Sept. 26 & 27, 2014, and I wondered what dates the Keaton Celebration would be. Now I had my answer, and it was no joke, so I did morph the music into something a little more somber but hopeful, as organizers promise to come back in 2015.

We'll see. Not every vintage film festival has to continue forever. This same weekend, my colleagues Ben Model and Phil Carli did music for what is apparently the last "Fall Cinesation" festival in Massillon, Ohio. Rats! Never got to that one.

But these things are a lot of work, and if the same people have to keep doing it year after year, the glow eventually wears off.

The best argument for keeping the Keaton Celebration going is the reaction to 'Seven Chances,' the main event feature. Roars of laughter from a large crowd, and it somehow seems so correct that it's taking place just down the road from Buster's birthplace. People turn up wearing Buster-style porkpie hats and even in complete Buster outfits!

I feel really fortunate to have had the chance to do my own style of music at this event, and for this audience, and especially for 'Seven Chances,' and so I'm grateful to Bill Shaffer and Frank Scheide for bringing me in to help out.

At "The End," for some reason the house lights didn't come up, and I've never had so many flashbulbs go off in my face at once. But most gratifying of all were the very kind words from Barbara and Melissa, who made a point of approaching me afterwards to offer thanks for helping bring the films to life. High praise!

An afterglow followed at a nice house in Iola, followed by modest after-afterglow in the parking lot of the motel where we were staying at, featuring many very funny jokes that I will have to leave up to your imagination, or I'd have to click the "Adult Content" setting. :)

Friday, Sept. 27, 2013: Day 4 on the road / Iola, Kansas

The banner greeting those arriving in Iola, Kansas from the east on U.S. Route 54.

Got a late start, not hitting the road until 9:12 a.m. Still, got to Iola, Kansas before noon, arriving under an impressive "Keaton Celebration" banner that straddles U.S. 54 as you arrive from the east. Nice!

The Bowlus Center (home of the festival) was locked up tight, so went for lunch to the B & B Country Cafe, a favorite from last year. Place was packed, and staff was struggling with giant takeout order, but had yet another plate of fried chicken, which was the day's special and is starting to become a theme of the Great Early Fall 2013 Silent Film Accompaniment Road Trip.

At the Keaton Festival, supplied live accompaniment to 'Seeing Stars,' the Hollywood promotional short presented by Hooman Mehran, so I can say now that I've officially collaborated with him.

Amused to find the name of 'Paul Rapsis' on my stipend check. The Bowlus Center folks were most apologetic about it, and director Susan Raines even walked with me across the street to have it cashed, which was the easiest solution for them. Nice! But now here I am, in the big city of Iola with all this cash on me. Watch out!

But the real big news of the afternoon was being in the presence of actor Paul Dooley, whose long list of credits include being head writer of the original 'Electric Company' PBS show in the 1970s, which I was addicted to as a kid.

Here's me and Paul Dooley in the lobby of the Bowlus Fine Arts Center.

Dooley gave a nice presentation on Keaton, and also did a great stand-up routine that he seems to be trying out for use elsewhere. Hope I get a chance to tell him what the Electric Company means to me: I just looked at excerpts on YouTube (that amazing resource) for the first time in decades and it all came rushing back, yet another source of primary source childhood memories all locked up in bits and bytes ready to be streamed again. And he was the guy!

Skipped dinner to prepare for the evening's session, which included live accompaniment to 'Out West' (1918), the Keaton/Arbuckle short. But as I was playing prior to the start, Bill Shaffer came over and whispered in my ear (inevitably, it seems) that there was a change of program.

Instead, they'd be showing Keaton's short 'The Blacksmith' (1922) with the newly discovered footage. Okay, fine! I hadn't seen the film in years, but I actually remembered some of the structure of it (opening gag titles about the "Village Smithy," etc.) and so started getting ready mentally.

But first there were remarks from the mayor of Iola, who was welcomed with me playing "Hail to the Chief," which got a few laughs, and an award to actor James Karen, a long-time friend of the festival and of Buster himself. For a guy about to turn 90, he's in amazing shape! Sporting a beard, he resembles an older Ernest Hemingway.

And on to Buster, which came in the form of a file on a thumb drive brought over from Paris by Kate Guyonvarch. Into the laptop went the drive, and off we went. But not quite: the computer had trouble reading the file, so all we got was a jumpy series of freeze frames of Buster and then Joe Roberts chasing each other around.

I did what I could, but what can you do? They then shut it down and transferred the file to another machine right on screen in full view of the audience, giving me a chance to earn a few more cheap laughs by playing Merv Griffin's iconic "waiting" music from Jeopardy.

But it still didn't work, but they'll try it again Saturday night, I'm told. Well, at least I got to preview it! Afterwards, I couldn't resist following Kate Guyonvarch up the aisle just to tell her I was glad to help out, and that we should work together more often! :)

Still haven't had a chance to connect with her, and at this point it's getting to be a little like "Waiting for Guyonvarch." Still, it's nice to make her acquaintance after all the back-and-forth over the years.

A screening of Chaplin's 'A King in New York' (1957) followed, the first time I'd ever had a chance to see this film. Lots of interest in it, especially if you're interested in seeing how agile Chaplin was in his late 60s, and how sharp his pantomime and acting skills remained.

But the film itself was a mixed bag, and the washed out video image (and a weird rumbling in the audio whenever anyone spoke) didn't help. Alas, I came away from it thinking that was two hours of my life I wouldn't get back again, which is not the kind of feeling you want to get when attending a festival like this.

Well, props to the organizers for screening a film that rarely gets shown, and that fit perfectly into the celebration's theme of the "Fabulous Fifties," which were not so fabulous for Chaplin, anyway.

But then again, where else can hear rock 'n' roll with music and lyrics by Charlie Chaplin? So it was worthwhile in the "being complete" sense. Now all I have to do is sit through 'A Countess from Hong Kong' (1967) and I can say I've seen it all, with the exception of a few of the Keystones, probably.

Thursday, Sept. 26, 2013: Day 3 on the road / Bentonville, Arkansas

'Old Main' on the campus of the University of Arkansas at Fayetteville, site of Giffels Auditorium, home of tonight's program.

A full day in Bentonville, Ark. began with a run through streets around our hotel, which felt good. Then it was off to Crystal Bridges for more symposium activities on a day that was already warm and would soon become downright hot.

Very light attendance for the morning's discussion of City Lights. And then most people left for lunch while I sat down for more Mutuals: 'Behind the Screen' and 'The Rink.'

Had a good discussion with the few folks on hand, and also spent time teasing Sara Segerlin about the museum's lack of a piano suitable for live performance.

"You march right up to that Alice Walton and tell her it's no use filling up this place with all this old junk if you don't have a good piano on hand," I would say. Sara is nothing if not a good sport, although she probably wanted to take a swing at me before it was all over.

I went back to the hotel for the afternoon. Then dinner on my own at Neal's Cafe in Springdale, Ark., which has been serving fried chicken since 1944. Back on Interstate 540 to head to the University of Arkansas in Fayetteville, but somehow missed the exit, had to turn back, and then got disoriented as time began to run out.

Tried calling folks, but no luck. Finally took an exit, kept going, and surprised myself by broadsiding Maple St., the very road I was looking for! Somehow last year's whirlwind visit made just enough of an impression for me to recognize where I was.

Found a parking space, and was then surprised when one of the adorably cute students immediately came up to me and asked, "Are you with the Chaplin program?"

Wow! One doesn't expect to be recognized on the streets of Fayetteville, Ark. Turns out I wasn't: she said I looked clueless and she just put two and two together.

Healthy turnout in 'Old Main' for our get-together. Played a score for the Chaplin Keystone 'The Masquerader' (1914) in Giffels Auditorium on the same Steinway I played last year. This time, instead of being behind a curtain, I was actually visible to the audience. But it's always something, it seems, and this time I had no light and couldn't see the keyboard, so the score was a bit more dissonant than it should have been. :)

Afterwards came a set of excerpts from an in-progress documentary by Lynn Cadwallader on silent film music. The presentation, alas, was delayed because they couldn't get any sound! Funny how the great slot machine of life coughs up such ironies!

One the sound worked, it turned out Lyn's materials include filmed interviews with some wonderful practitioners who worked in the original era. She's based in the Boston area and hope to keep in touch with her.

I was supposed to be part of a panel discussion that followed. For this, they'd set up a long table with six chairs. As all the other experts crowded in, I figured I'd stand aside in a rare attempt to see what humility actually feels like.

But then Frank handed me the microphone anyway, and that's all I needed to start jawboning the audience into seeing 'City Lights' with live orchestra on Sunday. Still, I'm starting to learn about proportion. :)

Wednesday, Sept. 25, 2013: Day 2 on the road / Bentonville, Arkansas

The fun begins with a reception this evening!

A summer-like morning saw me head over to the campus of Washburn University in Topeka, Kansas, where major construction is underway on 17th Street. But that didn't stop the Great Early Fall 2013 Silent Film Accompaniment Road Trip.

I popped into the music department, where I borrowed the use of a piano in for a couple of hours to review material, and then hit the road for the trip to Bentonville, Ark., home of the Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art, where I was on that evening for the opening reception of the 'Art for the Citizen' symposium.

Uneventful drive through Missouri on newly christened "Interstate 49," formerly just U.S. Route 71. If you travel this road, ignore all the signs for pecans and stop at Butler, Missouri for the donuts at Koehn's Bakery.

Due at the museum at 6 p.m., so thought I was cutting it close in getting to Bentonville at 5:30 p.m. Turned out my car clock was ahead one hour! For once I had time to spare, which was good, because the elevator where we stayed has to be the slowest in the Western Hemisphere.

Many luminaries on hand. Met Chaplin expert Hooman Mehran in the lobby, and some other university folks here for the museum's symposium.

Then over to Crystal Bridges, a brand spanking new museum funded by Wal-Mart money. (Bentonville is Ground Zero for the Walton family and Wal-Mart, which was founded here in 1950.) It's quite a place, part museum and part airline terminal, all set on a surprisingly vertical site and with water everywhere.

I found Frank Scheide from the University of Arkansas at Fayetteville carrying the promised keyboard, which turned out to be a lightweight all-plastic Yamaha model that could be held under one's arm. Uh-oh!

We set it up and it turned out to be better than I expected. We couldn't get the sustain pedal to work properly, so I futzed with the thing until I found a theater organ setting that sounded effective, and that's what I used.

More luminaries, including Steven Byess, conductor of the Arkansas Philharmonic, which is doing a live score to a screening of Chaplin's 'City Lights' (1931) on Sunday after just two rehearsals. (I wish him luck with that and wish I could get back here to see it!)

Also met the charming Sara Segerlin of Crystal Bridges after much e-mail correspondence (that's her on the right) and traded glances with Kate Guyonvarch of the Chaplin office, whom I'd love to chat with more extensively if the chance arises.

Small group on hand in the museum's 'Great Hall' for opening night of the symposium, which happened to coincide with the 100th anniversary of Chaplin signing his Keystone contract. Got a chance to speak beforehand, so said that in honor of the anniversary and to pay homage to the spirit of the Little Tramp, everything I was wearing had been purchased two days ago in a Topeka thrift store.

Accompanied 'The Immigrant' as best I could. The film got a good reaction, and so afterwards, Frank asked if people would like to see one more. Yes! So we went right into 'The Adventurer,' which was a little more assured, except things got a bit frantic in the last few minutes.

Finished the night with a "Jamocha" shake from Arby's, a rare culinary treat for me.

Tuesday, Sept. 24, 2013: Day 1 on the road / Topeka, Kansas

The lime green chick magnet that I'm tooling around Kansas in this week. Otherwise known as a Ford Fiesta.

Here I am in Topeka, Kansas, preparing for the four-hour trek down to Bentonville, Ark. later today.

That's where the four-day "Art for the Citizen" symposium opens tonight at the Crystal Bridges Museum of American Culture. I'm doing live accompaniment for at least one Chaplin short, maybe more. We'll see.

But before that happens, here's an up-to-date account of events so far on the Great Early Fall 2013 Silent Film Accompaniment Road Trip:

Yesterday saw an early flight (6 a.m.) out of Manchester, N.H., putting me in the Kansas City airport just after 10 a.m. local time. Nice to get so far so early in the day. I often wonder what the covered wagon folks would think of covering so much ground so quickly -- in this case, half a continent before lunch!

The airport has a good free wireless signal, so I worked there until mid-afternoon, also scoring a nifty shoe shine for $7.

I then hopped in my rented car (a lime green Ford Fiesta!) and sped across the prairie to the Candlewood Suites in Topeka, which I selected because the rooms have DVD players (to preview discs I brought) and also because this morning I wanted to go over to Washburn University and use one of the piano practice rooms.

Arriving in Topeka under rainclouds, I stopped at my favorite thrift store on the city's north side. I went in without any intention of buying anything, but came out with two sport jackets, a black shirt, two neckties, swim trunks, and a t-shirt from Omaha, Neb. Total cost: $14.60.

This is the same place where I purchased the now-legendary "Mulatto Chaplin" statue several years ago and presented to Bill Shaffer of the Kansas Silent Film Festival.

I was exhausted by then, so took a nap. Then, instead of working on Tuesday night, I met Bill Shaffer (the Mulatto Chaplin caretaker) for what turned out to be a two-hour dinner at the Tuptim Thai Restaurant, during which we consumed an enormous amount of some of the best Thai food I've had outside of Thailand itself.

My wife jokes that the only reason I do silent film music is because of the dining possibilities. I'm beginning to think she's right.

This morning, I'm equally as excited at the prospect of visiting the Hanover Pancake House in Topeka as doing music for the Chaplin short later on. (But now that I look at the schedule, and consider how full I am from last night, I realize the Hanover Pancake House might have to wait until the return leg.)

Big news in Topeka: what for a long time was the Holidome on Fairlawn Boulevard, site of the very first Kansas Silent Film Festival afterglow that I attended back in 2000, has recently been rebranded a Ramada Inn!

As Yeats wrote, things fall apart, the center cannot hold. Funny how things change around you, bit by bit, until at some point you find yourself in a different place, even if you've been standing still.

But then you've changed as well, haven't you? So a large part of life, I think, consists of celebrating the present, as it's a place that we'll only visit once in our lifetime. May as well make the most of it!

So today's agenda consists of going out for a short run, packing up, heading to Washburn University to use a piano room until noon, and then hitting the road to get to Bentonville by 4 p.m. if possible to allow time to get ready for Opening Night!

More later.

Thoughts on 'Foolish Wives' (1922) prior to Sunday, Sept. 22 screening

We're coming to the last screening before I leave for Arkansas and Kansas next week, and it's a big one: 'Foolish Wives' (1922), the Erich von Stroheim drama set in Monte Carlo, as rebuilt on the Universal back lot.

I like one story that comes from the making of this film: for money on-screen von Stroheim insisted on using accurate reproductions of Monte Carlo banknotes. These were so life-like that some extras began bringing them to banks and successfully exchanging them!

How ironic for for a film in which counterfeiting plays such a prominent role!

Anyway, it's a big meaty drama that runs almost 2½ hours, and will provide a good workout prior to going on the road. Come see it on Sunday, Sept. 22 at 4:30 p.m. at the Wilton Town Hall Theatre, 40 Main St., Wilton, N.H. For more info, visit www.wiltontownhalltheatre.com.

And here's something I just found out: the date of our screening is actually von Stroheim's birthday! He'd be 128 years old.

The screening of 'Foolish Wives' comes on the heels of two screenings last week: 'Show People' (1928) drew about 50 people last Thursday (Sept. 19) to the Leavitt Theatre in Ogunquit, Maine, where it got a very positive reaction. A screening of Rin Tin Tin in 'Clash of the Wolves' (1925) at Red River Theatres in Concord, N.H. was less well attended, with about 18 people on hand, but the reaction was strong.

In case you're curious, here's the road schedule next week:

• Wednesday, Sept. 25: accompanying some Chaplin Mutuals for opening night of an "Art for the Citizen" symposium at the Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art in Bentonville, Ark.

• Thursday, Sept. 26: During the day, more Chaplin Mutuals during the symposium. In the evening, I'm part of "A Tribute to Charlie Chaplin and Early Movie Music," a panel discussion at the University of Arkansas campus at Fayetteville. Not sure if I have to accompany anything here, but I'll be ready.

• Friday, Sept. 27: Day 1 of the 2013 Buster Keaton Celebration in Iola, Kansas finds light accompaniment duties: Chaplin's short 'One A.M.' in the evening and possibly some other things during the daytime seminars.

• Saturday, Sept. 28: Day 2 of the Keaton Celebration is heavy lifting in terms of accompaniment. I'm slated to do piano scores for the Constance Talmadge feature 'Her Sister from Paris' (1925), the Arbuckle/Keaton short 'Out West' (1918), and Keaton's feature 'Seven Chances' (1925).

I'll file reports here from on the road. And looking forward to October, which brings a Pickford program at Keene (N.H.) State College, 35mm screenings of 'Safety Last' (1923) and 'The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari' (1920) at the Somerville (Mass.) Theater, and about a half-dozen different screenings of 'Nosferatu' leading up to Halloween.

See you at the movies!

What to say about William Haines in 'Show People' on Thursday, Sept. 19?

A movie within a movie: a scene from 'Show People' (1928), with William Haines (right) made up as comedy star Billy Boone.

The more silent film I see, the more I appreciate 'Show People' (1928).

It's not just a funny insider tale about the movie biz. It's actually a wonderfully knowing Valentine to a medium that by then everyone knew would soon be history.

Yes, it gets laughs and has a satisfying story, even if today's movie-goers recognize few of the stars in cameo roles. (With Charlie Chaplin the obvious exception. And even then, that's because he's clearly identified in several titles.)

But it's also a chance for male lead William Haines, then at the height of his career, to show his versatility as a performer.

And it's also a chance to ponder what would soon happen to Haines: that his career would be ended by his refusal to follow studio orders to keep his homosexuality a secret.

It actually makes for a wonderful story by itself: Haines refused to enter into a "sham" marriage with a starlet to make him more acceptable as a leading man to Middle America. As a result, he was blackballed from all the major studios.

But Haines, his career as a leading man over, had the last laugh by starting an immensely popular and successful interior design firm. Among his best clients: loyal acquaintances in the Hollywood movie colony. Later in life, he was said to be a favorite of Ronald and Nancy Reagan!

I usually don't mention any of this prior to a screening of 'Show People.' If I do, every time he appears on screen, a good portion of the audience will think, "Hey, there goes Ronald Reagan's gay interior decorator!" And that's not exactly good for the movie's flow.

However, one thing about successful promotion is knowing your audience. And the Leavitt Theatre, where we're screening 'Show People' on Thursday, Sept. 19 at 8 p.m., is in downtown Ogunquit, longtime coastal haven for the region's gay community.

So, for this screening of 'Show People,' I felt it was worth playing up what Paul Harvey used to call "the rest of the story." Screening or not, I think Williams Haines should be remembered as a pioneer (and a courageous one at that) in overcoming prejudice and bigotry.

That's something to celebrate, and we will with 'Show People' on Thursday, Sept. 19. Hope to see you there! Below is the text of a press release with all the details...

* * *

William Haines and Marion Davies meet Charlie Chaplin in 'Show People' (1928).

MONDAY, SEPT. 16, 2013 / FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
Contact Jeff Rapsis • (603) 236-9237 • jeffrapsis@gmail.com

Leavitt Theatre to celebrate Hollywood's
first openly gay leading man

William Haines stars in classic silent film comedy 'Show People' with live music on Thursday, Sept. 19

OGUNQUIT, Maine—He was the Tom Hanks his time: a leading man with a winning manner and breezy charm who always got the girl.

But the film career of William Haines, one of early Hollywood's brightest stars, was cut short for an unfortunate reason: at a time when sexual preference was a taboo subject, he was openly gay.

See Haines at the peak of his popularity in 'Show People' (1928), an MGM comedy co-starring Marion Davies that spoofs the movie industry, pitting high drama against low comedy. Showtime for 'Show People is Thursday, Sept. 19, at 8 p.m. at the historic Leavitt Theatre, 259 Main St., Route 1, Ogunquit, Maine.

All are welcome to this family-friendly event; admission is $10 per person general admission. The screening, the latest in the Leavitt Theatre's silent film series, will feature live accompaniment by Jeff Rapsis, a New Hampshire-based composer who specializes in creating scores for silent films.

William Haines was one of MGM's biggest stars in the late 1920s, often playing the male lead in the studio's romantic comedies. But off-screen, Haines was gay—and, unusually for the era, he did not hide his homosexuality.

This led to friction with his bosses. MGM studio chief Louis B. Mayer, convinced that movie audiences would not accept a gay leading man, urged Haines to keep his long-term relationship with actor Jimmie Shields a secret.

Haines maintained his star status at MGM during the move to talking pictures. But a publicity crisis arose in 1933, when Haines was arrested in a YMCA with a sailor he had picked up in Los Angeles' Pershing Square.

Mayer then delivered an ultimatum: Haines had to choose between a sham marriage to an MGM actress or giving up his career. Haines refused to submit, chosing to be himself rather than to pretend to be someone he wasn't. Mayer subsequently fired Haines, terminated his contract, and banished him from the industry.

His movie career over, Haines recovered by launching an interior design firm, using his connections to become the most sought-after decorator in the Hollywood movie colony. The business prospered over the decades, with a client list of A-list celebrities as well as political figures such as Ronald and Nancy Reagan.

Haines remained with his partner Shields for the rest of his life. Joan Crawford, who co-starred with Haines in several pictures, described the pair as "the happiest married couple in Hollywood." In recent years, Haines has been recognized as a courageous pioneer in gay rights in the early Hollywood community.

'Show People,' directed by King Vidor, shows Haines at the height of his leading-man status. The light-hearted story follows Peggy Pepper (Marion Davies), a beauty queen from Georgia trying to break into the movies as a dramatic actress. Haines plays Billy Boone, lead actor of a slapstick comedy studio where Pepper gets her first break.

Can the young actress yearning for drama survive the indignity of pies in the face? And when her big break finally comes, will it mean sacrificing her growing friendship with Billy? And can Billy rescue the fun-loving Georgia girl from a studio that aims to invent a whole new persona for her as a serious actress, descended from European royalty?

Can low comedy win out over high drama? In answering that question, 'Show People' pokes fun at Hollywood phoniness and the culture of celebrity worship that had already emerged by the 1920s. 'Show People' also offers rare behind-the-scenes glimpses of movie-making at the very end of the silent period, when studios were rushing to prepare for sound.

"It's like they knew an era was ending, and 'Show People' is kind of a Valentine to the whole silent film experience," said Rapsis, who will accompany the screening at the Leavitt. "It's a love letter to all the craziness that went into creating the movie business."

Set in backstage Hollywood, 'Show People' features cameos by dozens of major stars of the period, including Charlie Chaplin, Douglas Fairbanks, Sr., William S. Hart, and John Gilbert.

In 2003, Show People was selected for preservation in the United States National Film Registry by the Library of Congress as being "culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant."

Marion Davies prepares to launch her weapon of choice.

The Leavitt, opened in 1923 as a summer-only seaside resort silent film house, now offers a wide variety of programming, including first-run films, live comedy, open mic nights, and more.

The Leavitt Theatre's silent film series aims to recreate the full silent film experience, with restored prints projected on the big screen, live music, and with a live audience. All these elements are essential to seeing silent films they way they were intended, Rapsis said.

“These films are still exciting experiences if you show them as they were designed to be screened,” Rapsis said. “There’s a reason people first fell in love with the movies, and we hope to recreate that experience. At their best, silent films were a communal experience very different from today’s movies—one in which the presence of a large audience intensifies everyone’s reactions.”

Other upcoming features in the Leavitt Theatre's 2013 silent film schedule include:

• Saturday, Oct. 26, 8 p.m.: 'Nosferatu' (1922). Just in time for Halloween, see the original silent film adaptation of Bram Stoker's famous 'Dracula' story. Still spooky after all these years—in fact, some critics believe this version is not only the best ever done, but has actually become creepier with the passage of time. See for yourself, if you dare!

‘Show People’ (1928), a classic silent comedy starring William Haines and Marion Davies, will be shown on Thursday, Sept. 19 at 8 p.m. at the Leavitt Theatre, 259 Main St. Ogunquit, Maine. Admission $10 per person; for more info, call (207) 646-3123 or visit www.leavittheatre.com. (Courtesy Image)

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For more info, contact:
Jeff Rapsis • (603) 236-9237 • jeffrapsis@gmail.com
Images attached. More high-resolution digital images available upon request.