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Show fS CPUHtYU ZttOfAER. of me. I would try to go around the world! It is truly amazing what a person can do when he has a goal. It seems to work out this way; if you establish estab-lish a goal and make a start, you've really done the hardest part. I made a start by soliciting several magazines maga-zines to send me around the world writing for them. One editor looked at me sternly. "That's a fine idea. It must be a fine One, or so many people wouldn't present it." I kept on until I got Leslie's Weekly Week-ly to agree to send me. When the letter of agreement was drawn up, I found that it bound Leslie's Weekly Week-ly as loosely as a twine string around a shorthorn. I was put down by this, not yet having fathomed the ways of magazines, but I was so eager to go that I entered only a mild protest. pro-test. Then I did something I'm still astonished at. I went to a number of advertising companies and announced an-nounced that I was going on a trip around the world and that I would be pleased to represent their clients. My youth, or enthusiasm, or eagerness, eager-ness, or something I'm not sure what it was made them sign up. I was to smoke a certain kind of pipe tobacco, use a certain kind of toothpaste, tooth-paste, and chew just one kind of gum. I still blink as I remember all the things I was to do. When I got back I was to write of my experiences experi-ences going around the world smoking, smok-ing, chewing, and, tooth-cleaning. Encouraged by my success (so far), I hit upon another bold idea. I would take motion pictures! I singled out the Universal Film Com- "That's a fine Idea." THE STORY THUS FAR: Amos Croy and his wife settled on a farm in Missouri, Mis-souri, where Homer was born. Sunday meant church, company for dinner, and teer weighing. The Croys attended the Omaha Exposition, where Homer had his first taste of the outside. Homer finished Jiigh school and college and went to New York City. He was rejected by every newspaper In the city. Theodore Dreiser liired him as a cub on a woman's magazine. mag-azine. His first Job was to read the letters let-ters and pick out the best In a contest on unusual pets. The Judges agreed on the first winner, the others were drawn by districts. He continued'to free-lance with some success. The pay was only enough -to encourage him to continue. ; CHAPTER XIX Mornings were longest; mornings when he had always been so active. He would go out on the porch and sit in his rocker, waiting for neighbors neigh-bors to pass and to wave at him. Sometimes they pulled up for a chat. That was nice. He would go back to the kitchen with the news. "Earl Trullinger passed drivin' their new sorrel. I think they pai2 too much for him. Lem Gault and Mrs. Gault went by. I waved but he didn't see me. I expect his eyes are failing." They had a farmers' telephone put In and when it would ring, Phebe would dry her hands and softly take off the receiver. ' Pa could never quite bring himself to eavesdrop. But it was all right for Phebe to do that. Womenfolks were different. She'd tell him the news: "Jim ert's broken the trip on his wheat ill and is comin' to town to see if .e can get another. He may have to telegraph to Kansas City." "He never keeps his machinery under cover!" Pa was dead against anybody who neglected their machinery. ma-chinery. "Mattie Knabb's folks are comin' In from Nebraska." "Did you learn when they'd get 1 here?" "She don't know. She Just got the card yesterday." "They'll probably have trouble crossing the Platte. I see It's on a rampage." He would go down to the bank to see what stock reports had been chalked up on the blackboard. This was a meeting place for the other retired farmers; they would stand there studying the board and discussing discuss-ing the perplexing ups and downs of the market. Heavy hogs were off; light ones up. That was. just like the commission houses. Want one thing one week, next week you couldn't give it to 'em. ' "How many steers you feedin', Amos?" "Eighty-two now." "When do you calc'late to turn em?" "The market Is so tricky I think I'll feed 'en a while yet." "Hog Ba'er brought In a load of shoats this morning." They would nod respectfully, for Hog Baker was the best hog farmer in the country. People paid attention atten-tion to him. Sometimes other farmers farm-ers would ship just because he did. Nobody could ask for a finer compliment compli-ment than that. Hog Baker knew he was the best hog farmer, and Saturdays Sat-urdays would swagger down the street in his eld slouch hat. When he stepped over to the edge of the sidewalk to talk for a moment, he'd soon have a crowd around him. Maybe May-be he'd drop something. 'Pa would go to Tom Wadley's; lots of farm news there. Maybe somebody he knew would be in. Well (he'd say to Tom) times are chang-ln'. chang-ln'. "What do you think of this havin' a county agent to tell people how to farm?" "I've always been wantin' to find an easy way," Pa would say and they'd laugh. "You've made quite a success of farmin', Amos." Pa vould straighten up a little. "I've managed to keep out of the poorhouse." "You've been more liberal in your giving than most men." "A person ouiiht to do vhat he can," Pa vould say, pleased in spite of himself. Many of the retired farmers loafed In the courthouse yard, lounging loung-ing on the benches, using the courthouse court-house toilet facilities, watching vhat teams carne In. But Pa wasn't one l,f thorn. Even now he couldn't loaf. Must keep busy. "Want to run out lr the farm?" Pa vould ask Phebe. They vould have an early dinner feleven-thirtyj then Pa would hitch up and they vould start. I'hebe vould stay at the house, talking to the tenant's vife, while Pa walked ;,'.i'sn the pasture scooping up rriilk-yee'la rriilk-yee'la and kieklrig out Russian thistles. this-tles. He saw every detail in the vait yrjd eoroplieated proersn of farm-lug. farm-lug. lie vould head toward the t.'ii-i,nt. t.'ii-i,nt. Iid he have varbl-s? I'a vould ii-.k. Mow (ibout roek nail,? I'a and I'h'oe vould tf"t In the lUil:; and start slowly hack to town. I h-':arrie 'ruai-d . . . did I dare. tiriU:i :iVi rnarriaj'e vh'-n J riey-r kn fiofo one month to another ho rn'i'h I vould make? i a ho I had lhfi-nr-d (, nn n-Iran' n-Iran' int train yhr:Ue at, hliht, com-In; com-In; in over th" doughs, and wlsh-d 71 th all in' head I rould g"t on a train and v.'i son " vher n. And nov n ' eerli.l ,nld Idea laid hold learned a little about handling film and chemicals and drying racks in the subtropics. The first place I photographed, after Honolulu, was Japan; and the first "shot" (I was learning fast) was a silkworm factory. The Japanese Jap-anese Government sent three men and they never got farther away from me, I'm sure, than ten feet. And demanded to see every inch of film. I won't stop to set down all my adventures, except this one point. I was on the China Sea, on a North German-Lloyd ship named the Francis Fran-cis Ferdinand, sitting at the captain's cap-tain's table, one noon, when a man from the wireless office came, said something in German, and handed the captain a message. The captain read it, then reread it, and, to my astonishment, arose slowly and, without a word to anyone, faced the end of the dining room where there was a painting on the wall of the Archduke Francis Ferdinand. He saluted the picture gravely, and sat down. Then he said, "He has just been assassinated at Serajevo." But it did affect me, as I soon found. Singapore England's stronghold strong-hold in the Orient was filled with German spies. And soon, at my Dutch hotel, I heard nothing but war. But it would be over soon. On the way to Rangoon, later, four or five English "clarks," who had been assigned to duty at home, walked up and down the deck giving an imitation of the goose step and roaring with laughter. I laughed, too. It all seemed vastly amusing. One of the clerks said, "It'll all be over before we get home and I'll have to turn around and come back, which'll be just my luck." At Rangoon a shadow fell across us. We were transferred to another ship, one much smaller. Gradually matters grew worse and I felt myself my-self struggling against something powerful and relentless, as one does In a troubled dream. I had no passport of any kind, for at that time passports were not required. re-quired. But I did have a personal letter from William J. Bryan, Secretary Sec-retary of State, which the publisher of Leslie's Weekly had got for me. I got on the train one night In Calcutta with a Pennsylvania Dutch young man of my age. We were in the compartment alone together; the engine was smoking and breathing breath-ing heavily, and people were going up and down the platform in a last-minute last-minute excitement of departure when suddenly the door was opened by two British officers. One said, "Are there any Germans in here?" The young man with me answered, "Nein." He was. hauled out and was, I learned later, kept in Ceylon as a prisoner for three months. I made newsreels and travel pictures pic-tures across India, but even here, miles from any British stronghold, I felt the war roaring toward me like some gigantic but invisible force. In Bombay my camera was taken from me and I had to see half a dozen officials to get It back. I ran out of money, and the Majestic Hotel ejected us, but kept our cameras, cam-eras, chemicals and equipment. I moved into the YMCA, where, for three weeks, I was without a shilling to my name. All I could do was to smoke and scour my teeth and chew gum. At last money came through. I claimed my cameras and equipment, equip-ment, and got on to Egypt. Tho shadow had grown darker. I could fill pages with details of what happened, hap-pened, but I must forego that, for I don't want to make my book too long. Only Just one point: I was questioned at the Second Cataract as a spy. William J. Eryan saved me. At last I got to London and cut the film. It was released as half-reel half-reel subjects under my name. I thought it was, for the most part, pretty poor. But when the Universal house organ came out, it had this as a banner line: "UNIVERSAL SCORES AGAIN. LAEMMLE LUCK STILL HOLDS." I felt better. I went to the advertising companies com-panies with my pictures and the pieces I'd written. The chewing gum company said No; and wanted none of what I had to offer. Tho others bought some of my "still" pictures and Borne of tho mnterial I wrote, at a price which I thought was pretty good, but which I now reallzo was rldlculoufily cheap. And now I had enough money to get married. Oh boy! When we were married, tho Universal Uni-versal Ncwsreel made motion pictures pic-tures of us coming out of tho church and getting Into a cab; tho pictures pic-tures were nhown on tho screen In nriil a round New York. TIiiih we became the first couplo In tho world to bo put Into a riewaieel. Tho church was the Swi-fleiilmr.'in, near Madison Avenue, New York, and tho time wan February 7, I II 1.1. Until Un-til then tho newiweelH had dealt with burning building!!, nl.reet accidents acci-dents and oilier calamitien. Then they cliseovei I'd love. H Jiint shown how they were progressing, Later, in the Krilisli Museum, l.iMiilun, 1 was pleased to Hint n write up of the wedding and the statement (very IWitisli) thai an Ameriran cnuplu had chosen to throw modesty to tlm winds and he phut ugra plied for the cinema iietualilles. The write-up didn't think much of the hnisli American couple. Well, they're nl 111 mauled. (And lliey r.lill have tho negative- of the dim.) cio i ik ('(iiri'inuii.ii) pany as being susceptible, and tripped gaily In. Here again my tremendous confidence must have been on my side, for I was passed along until I came before Carl Laemmle himself. He was a short man, a German Jew, with a wide space between two upper middle teeth vhich seemed to make his accent ac-cent more pronounced. He had a kindly, almost fatherly, attitude; In fact his office name was "Uncle Carl." He hesitated when I told him my fine idea. "How you goin' to make pichers when you don't take photographs?" he asked. "You'll have to send a cameraman with me," I announced. "I'm going to direct the pictures." He studied me, and I knew my fate was being weighed. "How many pictures have you direct'?" "I haven't directed any yet," I said, sensing that victory was coming com-ing my way. "But I can do It all right." He looked at me, meditating. . . . Jt was finally agreed that I was to see him in Hollywood, but when I arrived there I found ten thousand others were also trying to see him, fur these vere the wild, gold-strike days of motion pictures. I shadowed him, not only at his office but also on the lot, every time the poor man left his door. But all the other pursuers pur-suers were after him, too, some of them far more bloodthirsty than I was. One day In his office, I happened hap-pened to overhear In a conversation that he wa3 going to the bank. I vaited to pounce on him, for I hud by this time grovn desperate, but he used an unexpected side door. I started across" the lot feeling everything every-thing was lost, then spied him getting get-ting Into his big, open-topped car. I dashed for hirri, leaped on the running run-ning hoard of the moving car nnd plopped down beside the astonished man. For a -moment ho did not know me and seemed to think he was the victim fit some wild plot. I talked an I had never before talked In my life. Ily the time we reached the hank he had said Yen. Ilia pnhlieily department had widely wide-ly piihliei.ed ometliln It termed "I,aefnmle I. nek," and I'm sine tin? old gentleman believed he had it. I hoped to ( Jod he wa;i right, A cameraman was assigned am) fliaited out v 1 tli my smoking tobacco, tobac-co, (.'iieving gum and toothpaste, to go around the voi Id, I found n Universal Uni-versal film company working in Honolulu, Hon-olulu, making vhat the calleil "iiii-thentle" "iiii-thentle" ,',,uth f.ean pleluicH, and |