other directors simply attached themselves to outdoor events, Lois approached the owners of lavish residences in respectable neighborhoods and arranged to “rent” their homes for a few days. These realistic backgrounds added authenticity and saved the company time and money by not having to create their own scenery, yet filming this way required that all the action set against that background be completed at one time, often out of sequence.5
Frances developed a deep respect for Lois Weber’s abilities and a fierce loyalty to her. The responsibilities Lois took on were daunting to say the least; directing, producing, writing, casting, editing, and acting, all with a determination and a dedication that went beyond mere work ethic. Although Frances was almost “irreligious,” she and Lois shared a strong compassion for the abused underdog.
Ardent in her beliefs, Lois was often mistakenly taken to be a Christian fundamentalist, but she was more of a libertarian, opposing censorship and the death penalty and championing birth control. The need for a strong, loving, and nurturing home was clearly promoted as well and if there was a single maxim that underlay each film it was that selfishness and egocentricity erode the individual and the community.
Many of the films she made at Universal focused on a moral topic, such as prejudice in The Jew’s Christmas, and wife beating in His Brand, but it was at Bosworth that she became known for her “Big Theme” films. Hypocrites, a four-reel allegorical drama that Lois wrote and directed soon after Frances arrived at Bosworth, was the most controversial and, not incidentally, the most profitable. The recurring presence of “Truth,” portrayed as a naked woman, provoked a censorship debate and massive press coverage, but when it was eventually released throughout the country, her fame was cemented. “After seeing Hypocrites,” said Variety, “you can’t forget the name of Lois Weber.”6
To Frances’s surprise and pleasure, the studio was expanded to include Oliver Morosco. In spite of his protestations against the flickers only a few years before, it was a natural business move to turn his repertoire of plays into films. Charlotte Greenwood came with him and having the comedienne around the studio added to the fun.
In the three years she had been in Los Angeles, Frances had witnessed significant changes. There were now dozens of studios and their ripple effect on the local economy could no longer be ignored. While there were still occasional outbursts from the righteous, most of the former “Constipated Citizens” were too busy counting their money to object further. The Los Angeles Chamber of Commerce proudly announced that over 15,000 locals “were supported by the industry” that brought over $15 million to the area. Hotels were booming, restaurants were packed, and new neighborhoods were popping up where only sagebrush had thrived before.7
New talent was always being sought and Elsie Janis, a popular young vaudevillian and Broadway comedy star famous for her impersonations, arrived at the Bosworth studios in the fall of 1914. She had been headlining at the Palace Theatre in London, but along with many other Americans visiting overseas, returned to the States when the European war broke out.
Elsie made four films in four months at Bosworth and while she and Frances became friends immediately, it was harder to warm up to Elsie’s mother, Josephine. Insisting everyone call her Ma, she rarely left her daughter’s side and, in a voice that reminded Frances of a honking goose, had her say about everything, including sets, costumes, and casts. But soon Frances saw that while some people were afraid of her or even actively disliked her, Ma was quietly generous and thoughtful to the extras, dressmakers, and musicians—people from whom reciprocity was impossible in any way except through gratitude and devotion.8
Ma Janis decided that refined type or not, Frances should be cast as one of the cavewomen in ’Twas Ever Thus. They trooped out to Chatsworth Park, thirty miles north of Los Angles, to film, and with Elsie playing “Lithesome” and titles that read, “Fearless women of the Stone Age who fought and died alongside their men,” Frances was grateful that her small part called for her face to be covered with mud.9
Elsie was drawn to Frances’s ribald sense of humor and encouraged her to help write her comedies. Elsie made light of the work, but she openly depended on the discipline of people like Frances and Sidney Franklin, whom Elsie took to calling “George Detail” because he followed her around the set saying, “You had your handkerchief in your left hand in the last shot, Miss Janis.”10
Owen Moore was hired to play opposite Elsie and Frances was appalled as she watched the young extras clamoring to be in scenes with him. He intimated to Elsie that his marriage was virtually over, but when Mary Pickford returned to California in November and caught them holding hands on the set, she was furious. Mary had known Elsie since they played Shea’s Theater in Toronto together as children in 1899, but she didn’t trust her with her husband. Mary continued to drop by often to keep an eye on Owen and she and Frances began to solidify their friendship.11
In January of 1915, Elsie returned to London to entertain the English troops and Hobart Bosworth left the company that bore his name. He had been ill for several months and the doctors warned him that without complete rest, his tuberculosis might return. The press reported that Lois Weber and Phillips Smalley “were not happy” at the studio without Bosworth and in early April they met with Carl Laemmle, the president of Universal, who was in town for the official opening of his new, sprawling Universal City.12
The Smalleys returned to Universal with the assurance that they would be producing multireel “feature pictures,” a concession for Laemmle who was devoted to shorter films. He claimed long features were doomed because “every exhibitor I talk to will be only too glad when they come back to one or two reels and once in a while a three reel feature.” In spite of the success of The Sea Wolf and the Italian film Quo Vadis? Laemmle’s attitude was shared by many, including William Selig, who was adamant that “the single reel photo drama is the keystone of the motion picture industry.” Universal would continued to produce two-reelers into the twenties, but even their most dogmatic supporters had their assumptions challenged on February 8, 1915, with the premiere of D. W. Griffith’s The Clansman.13
Soon to be known by its subtitle, “The Birth of a Nation,” The Clansman provoked so much discussion because of its length, epic scope, and photography, as well as its controversial storyline, that it became a “must see” even for people who had never been to a movie theater before. To those who worked in the business, any residual tendency to apologize for their profession vanished. The film brought a sense of collective pride and accomplishment and suggested a new level of potential for creative fulfillment.
Frances was among the multitude swept away with enthusiasm for the grandeur of The Clansman, yet as sure as she was of her love of moviemaking, she was still unclear as to how she fit in. Lois Weber offered to take her with her to Universal, but Frances decided it was time to strike out on her own. She received an offer from the two-year-old Balboa studio in Long Beach, which was expanding its writing department and turning to women in its search for new talent.14
She understood why there were so many successful women writers; it was a creative outlet achieved in private and required relatively little bravado. Women’s novels were best-sellers, short stories by women filled popular magazines, and women writers were commonplace in the film industry. Yet no one knew the exact number because many stories were mailed directly to the film companies and a ten- or twenty-five-dollar check was sent back with a receipt and a release form. Seldom was there a writer’s credit on the screen.
Alice Guy Blaché had started as a secretary for Gaumont in Paris and risen to be a successful director at Solax in New Jersey. While acknowledging “strong prejudice” still existed, she claimed that “there is nothing connected with the staging of a motion picture that a woman cannot do as easily as a man.” Movie magazines ran scenario contests and writing advice columns.
