An Elmira-Made Movie: Adventures of Dot (1917)

By Kelli Huggins, Education Coordinator

 

Released in 1917, Adventures of Dot was a two-reel silent film made in Elmira. It featured local actors and was produced by the Unique Photo Drama Corporation of New York City. In an era when film was new and incredibly popular, the opportunity to join the ranks of Mary Pickford or Douglas Fairbanks excited many Elmirans. 

A contest was held to choose the leads and the prospective actors who received the most votes from fellow Elmirans were cast. With 55,960 votes, Yvonne Smith won the female lead, Dot. Lafayette Moseson scored the male lead, Murray Dexter. Unique Photo Drama Corporation manager J. Cooke announced the winners on June 2 at the Mozart Theater, where the film would premiere. The winners also received silver loving cups. 

The actors had to get right to work because the film was scheduled to premiere on June 11. At the end of each day of filming, the footage was shipped to New York City where it was processed. 

The Mozart Theater

While the film does not seem to have survived, here is a synopsis of the action:

 

Murray Dexter is a precocious Star-Gazette reporter with “a nose for news” (some scenes in the film were shot in the actual Star-Gazette offices). He gets to know the residents of the city through his work. One local, Professor Hassel (played by Robert Gatens) is an old scientist who has invented a new kind of explosive. Hassel’s beautiful daughter Dot is the object of Murray’s affection. The Star-Gazette prints a headline declaring that Hassell’s invention might win the war (remember, the US had just entered WWI). 

Meanwhile, the villainous Serge Revenisch reads this headline. Revenisch apparently knew Hassel from when they were both European anarchists. So Revenisch and his co-conspirator Madam N. decide to come to Elmira to steal the explosive. They send a letter to Chief of Police Weaver saying they’ll blow up City Hall if they don’t get $250,000 from the city.

Dot warns Murray of the anarchists’ attempts to steal her father’s formula and he runs off to get help. The anarchists then kidnap Dot. Dot’s young sister witnesses the kidnapping and tells Murray. Meanwhile, another child hops on the back of the car and hangs on until they get to the anarchist hiding spot. The little girl goes for help and leads the police and Murray to Dot. 

They free Dot and arrest the anarchists, but Revenisch and Madam N. are nowhere to be found. It turns out that they have gone out to blow up City Hall. The police stop them just in time, but Revenisch escapes custody and leads our heroes on a car chase. The anarchist’s car drives off a cliff by Rorick’s Glen, killing Revenisch.

Dot and Murray marry and then he joins Company L and is shipped off to World War I. Murray was wounded, but survived, returning home after two years. They lived happily ever after. 

Billing for the film, Elmira Star-Gazette, June 11, 1917

Premiering June 11, the film was shown as part of a double feature with a movie called Treason.

I became curious as to whether Adventures of Dot had been distributed elsewhere. I searched the title in an online newspaper database and found something curious. There was also an Ottawa, Canada version of Adventures of Dot. The newspaper articles about the Ottawa film were nearly identical to the Elmira ones. There was a contest. Local youths were cast. They showed the film in a local theater. All the same except for the people and place. 

Then I searched the company, Unique Photo Drama Co. I found they made a similar film in Reading, Pennsylvania. There was a contest, this time for a film called For Her Country’s Sake. They filmed the same movie across the state in Butler, Pennsylvania that year, too. And Akron, Ohio. There were probably others. 

Ad for For Her Country's Sake, Butler Citizen, July 24, 1918

So what gives? It turns out that these kinds of films were common in the early era of moviemaking. Companies like Unique Photo Drama peddled scripts to local theaters and community organizations across the country (for a listing of just some of these companies, see here). These itinerant filmmakers could make some quick money from the film, the sponsoring theater made money from ticket sales, and local actors were thrilled to see themselves and their friends on the screen. It was a win-win for everyone. 

Elmira Star-Gazette, June 12, 1917

Elmira’s Adventures of Dot never had an audience outside of Elmira. But, that was by design. Locals showed up for the short run of the film at the Mozart and then promptly moved on with their lives.

Birth of a Nation

By Rachel Dworkin, Archivist

D.W. Griffith’s film The Birth of a Nation (1915) played an important role in the rise of the Ku Klux Klan during the 1910s and 20s. Based off of the 1905 novel The Clansman: An Historical Romance of the Ku Klux Klan, the film portrayed the Klan, not as the anti-Black terrorist organization that it was, but as the valiant defenders of the Reconstruction-era South. It was seen by over 4 million people in its initial run and approximately 200 million more before World War II thanks subsequent re-releases in 1921, 1922 and 1930. At this same time, the Klan expanded from practically nothing in 1915 to 4 million members at its peak in the mid-1920s.

Even at the time, people recognized that the racially charged film posed a threat to Blacks. The National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) tried to organize a national boycott out of fear the film would be dangerous. And it was. Not only were Klan recruiters operating just outside the in some towns, in Lafayette, Indiana a white man murdered a black teenager after seeing the movie and there were reports of assaults by gangs of armed white men in other cities. Blacks and their allies organized mass demonstrations against the film in Boston and Philadelphia. The film was banned in Ohio, Colorado, and twelve mid-Western cities on the grounds that it was too inflammatory.

Lyceum Theatre

There was a movement in Elmira to ban the movie here. It was scheduled to open at the Lyceum Theatre on evening of January 3, 1916. On the evening of January 2^nd, a group of concerned Black citizens met at the Temperance Hall on Dickinson Street to organize a protest. Like the national NAACP, they were appalled both by the film’s depiction of blacks and its capacity to incite inter-racial conflict.  After some discussion, they formed a committee to draft and present the following petition to the mayor calling for the film to be banned in the city:  

“We, the colored citizens of the city of Elmira, N.Y., protest against the D.W. Griffith photoplay…known as The Birth of a Nation on the grounds that it will embitter and disorganize society, because it has reactionary effects on the political life of the community.  Because it is a travesty on history – a breeder of racial antipathy, magnifying the fault of the colored race, while glorifying the lawlessness of the whites.   Because the producer seems to have followed the principal of gathering together the most vicious and grotesque individuals he could find among the colored people and showing them as representatives of the entire race.  Because it is shown to humiliate and embarrass the blacks and misrepresent a cause to northern whites.  Last but not least, it is contrary to our Lord and Savior, who said “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”

The committee represented a wide cross section of Elmira’s Black community.  It was chaired by Peter White, a pressman for the Elmira Advertiser newspaper.  From the wealthier end of the spectrum it included Rev. William Coffey, the pastor of Bethel A.M.E. Zion Church, and small business owners Don Cameron (barber) and Walter F. Steward (housepainter).  Other members included James Armstrong, an unskilled laborer; Guy Powell, a railroad porter; and Joseph Thompson, a chauffeur. They hired white attorney Michael O’Connor to help them present their case to Mayor Harry N. Hoffman. 

James Armstrong, unskilled laborer and activist

On January 3^rd, every paper in the city ran the petition.  Mayor Hoffman arranged for a special review of the film by City officials in order to evaluate the film.  After careful review, Mayor Hoffman decided to allow the Lyceum to show the film, but demanded that several particularly offensive scenes be cut, including the attempted rape of a white girl by a man in black face.  During the ensuing lawsuit brought by the theater, the attorneys for the city successfully argued the mayor’s right to censor such a morally dangerous film. 

 An unknown number of Chemung County residents saw the film, but it was probably a lot. It ran twice a day for a week and the local trolley lines offered discounted rides to out-of-town movie goers. The reviews in local newspapers were mixed. The Elmira Herald said that the Blacks had just cause to be upset, but warned viewers not to take the movie too seriously. The Elmira Star-Gazette described it as “the most stupendous motion picture spectacle ever attempted,” but conceded the faults of Blacks may have been exaggerated. Only the Elmira Advertiser was unequivocal in its condemnation saying: “as a great spectacular production this photoplay is a success.  As a historical representation of the times and period it is supposed to depict, it is worse than a failure: it is rank libel.”

Program for the Birth of a Nation, shown at Lyceum Theatre, week of January 3, 1916

Fangirls Gonna Fan

by Rachel Dworkin, archivist

I am, I confess, something of a fangirl. These days there are a lot of ways for fangirls like me to get our geek on. There are entire industries which market toys and apparel to them.  Tabloids and Twitter help fans keep track of their favorite celebrities. Social media offers fans across the world a platform where they can discuss the latest episode of their favorite shows. Fans can cosplay and meet both fellow fans and content creators at conventions. They can share their fanfic, fanvids, and other fan-created stuff on websites like fanfiction.net and Archive of Our Own.  Unless they’re stalking Jody Foster and shooting Ronald Reagan, there’s no wrong way to be a fan.

While there have always been fans, it wasn’t until the early 20^th century when industries rose to cater to their interest. The first fan magazine, that is to say a magazine geared towards fans of a specific aspect of popular culture, was called Photoplay. When it first appeared in 1911, each issue was basically a condensed tie-in novel for recently released films.  In 1915, they reformatted to include reviews of films, actor interviews, and celebrity gossip. This became the hallmark of later fan magazines for all sorts of fandoms including film, radio, TV, and sports.


Screen Secrets, March 1930

Back during the 1920s and ‘30s, local teen Ruth Collin took full advantage of the fandom industry of her day.  Her first foray into fandom was a scrapbook made between 1926 and 1928, which she filled with advertisements and reviews of every one of the 87 films she watched during that period.  Starting in the late 1920s, she began subscribing to film magazines including The New Movie Magazine, Movie Mirror, Silver Screen, Screen Romances, and The Modern Screen Magazine. She got studios to send her autographed portraits of her favorite stars.

New Movie Magazine, April 1930

 

Signed photo of Joan Crawford sent by MGM Studio.  The dog did not sign.

 

In addition to the collection documenting Ruth Collin’s fanish obsession, we also have a collection of baseball scrapbooks from the 1940s and ‘50s, and a bunch of 1990s boy band posters.  Now all we need is a Star Trek fanzine from the 1960s and we’ll be all set.  Seriously though, if you have one of those, we really do need one.

Our Gang

by Rachel Dworkin, archivist

One of the latest additions to our collection in 2016 is the book Our Gang: A Racial History of the Little Rascals by Julia Lee.  In it, Lee places the Our Gang series in its historical racial context and explores how it helped to change that context.  The book is interesting and well-written, using research conducted all over the country, including right here in at the Chemung County Historical Society.

The book in question.

The story Hal Roach (1892-1992) liked to tell was that he came up with the Little Rascals in 1921 after watching a group of kids play in a lumber yard, but the idea could have just as easily come from his own youth.  Growing up on Elmira’s near-Westside at the turn of the 20^th century, Roach was a scamp of the Tom Sawyer variety.  He and his friends ran around the neighborhood, paying games, staging photoplays, and scandalized old ladies by skinny dipping in the Chemung.  He took a series of odd jobs throughout his childhood, including one delivering groceries to the Reformatory.  Roach got sacked after he was caught smuggling tobacco to the inmates.  He was a cut-up at school too.  By the time he quit schooling altogether after being expelled from EFA, he had already been thrown out of half-dozen public and private schools throughout the city.

Hal Roach's brother Jack and little rascals Allen "Farina" Hoskins and Joe Cobb, ca. 1928

In the same way Roach’s youthful exploits informed the series’ plot, his childhood experiences with race likely influenced his choice to have a diverse cast.  By the time Roach was ten, Elmira had a population of approximately 35,000, including a moderately-sized black community.  The core of the community was centered around Fourth and Dickinson Streets on the Eastside, but there was also a cluster of black families living on Elmira’s Southside and many of those employed as domestic servants lived with their employers throughout the city.  Although few blacks lived in Roach’s neighborhood on Columbia Street, he almost certainly attended classes with black students.  He was also probably familiar with the Industrial School, which offered integrated recreational spaces and vocational training to the city’s poorer children.

Elmira Public School No. 1, class of 1895

When the first Our Gang shorts with their racially integrated cast came out, the public reaction was decidedly mixed.  Many blacks, including influential members of the press and the head of the NAACP (National Association for the Advancement of Colored People), felt that it might be a vehicle for racial uplift and help to wear down old prejudice.  Others felt that the shorts simply recycled old minstrel show tropes and that the characters were, in effect, black children in blackface.  Whites too had mixed reactions.  In the Jim Crow South, where separate-but-equal kept black and white kids in different schools, theatres and theater-goers praised the series’ minstrel-like characterization even as they protested the integrated gang.  Northern whites also expressed certain racial anxieties over the films, but held no protests against them, unlike their southern brethren.

Lantern slide used to advertise "School Begins" (1928) in a local theater.  Note the integrated classroom with a side order of racism. 

 Of course, I’ve only discussed America’s initial reaction to the Our Gang films.  There were over 200 Our Gang films made between 1922 and 1944, and then those shorts were later re-cut and re-released for television syndication from the 1950s through the 1980s.  As American’s views about race and race relations changed, so too did their views on the series.  If you’re interested in learning more about this, I suggest you do what I did:  read Julia Lee’s book.   

Label for an "Our Gang" doll of George "Freckles" Warde, ca. 1922