by Paul R. Spitzzeri
For some four decades, a fixture figure with the Los Angeles Times was Edwin F. Schallert (1890-1968), who was the powerful paper’s drama critic for much of his tenure and he has been alluded to on many posts on this blog. He was the only child of Mary Lindsey and John J. Schallert, who married in 1882 in St. Louis where John was a leather dealer.
Within a few years, likely because of his health, the couple migrated to Los Angeles, almost certainly because of his connections with fellow leather dealer Christian Ganahl, whose brother owned a lumber company in St. Louis, while Christian settled in the Angel City in 1884. A Workman family connection comes in here as Christian’s son, Edward, wedded, in 1891, Agnes Workman, daughter of Joseph Workman, whose parents William and Nicolasa Urioste were the founders of the Homestead.
On the first day of March 1885, Ganahl took out a public notice that John Schallert join his recently established firm, which took over the lumber business of John Bryson and Sons, which opened in 1879 (Bryson built a well-known business block and was mayor of Los Angeles, succeeding William H. Workman, nephew of William and Nicolasa, in the position). Schallert immediately took on “active charge and control” of what was known for a decade as the Schallert-Ganahl Lumber Company and served as its president.
John Schallert’s rise to success came during the ensuing Boom of the 1880s and involved his ownership of the Citizens Ice Company and directorships with the Post Office Savings Bank and Trust Company (the president of which was James B. Lankershim with other directors including Griffith J. Griffith and vice-president Charles Forman—who was tied by marriage to the Rowland family of La Puente) and the City Bank, which he joined in February 1889.
Not surprisingly, John and Mary Schallert were excellent musicians, likely having met in St. Louis’ terpsichorean circles, and frequently performed in Angel City soirees. Unfortunately, John’s ascension in business came to an abrupt end when the national Depression of 1893 burst forth and the panic affected Los Angeles banks as was the case throughout the nation during this worst economic crisis in two decades.
The only casualty, however, was the City Bank, which closed its doors on 20 June, with a resulting inventory creating a “considerable sensation among the stockholders” and showing that the institution, of which Schallert and his mother owned stock, had liabilities of some $184,000 and assets of $80,000 more, but two-thirds of the latter were considered as “doubtful or worthless.” Later, it was determined that Schallert had a promissory note to the failed bank of more than $4,500, secured with stock in the lumber and ice companies, though these were deemed virtually of no value.
The Los Angeles Herald of 27 November 1893 commented that,
The financial history of Los Angeles during the last twenty years has been quite unique. During that period we have had but two bank failures, that of Temple & Workman, in 1875 [actually January of the following year], and the City bank in the recent panic. Both were unexampled instances of mismanagement. The former followed upon the heels of the failure of the bank of California in 1875, and the latter was a new bank [it lasted about as long as Temple and Workman, some four years] which was run in violation of all canons of banking.
It may well be that the collapse of the City Bank caused the further ruin of John Schallert’s health, though he remained with the lumber company until his death in April 1895, upon which the firm was renamed the C. Ganahl Lumber Company and it still operates today. An encomium in the Los Angeles Times of the 10th called Schallert “a business man of signal ability and a musician of more than ordinary talent.” He left his widow and their five-year old son, Edwin.
Given his family history, it was to be expected that Edwin was a talented musician and was an excellent student to boot, earning his bachelor’s and master’s degrees at St. Vincent’s College, the forerunner of today’s Loyola Marymount University, by the time he was 21 years old. After completing his graduate studies in 1911, he began writing for local magazines like West Coast and contributing to newspapers like the Times, with pieces on agriculture, finance and oil.
While his musical background and abilities, Schallert was offering regular reviews of concerts and recitals and then theatrical performances and was named the Times‘ drama and music critics in 1915. Later, he became one of the paper’s chief reviewers of films and examples of his comments have appeared in posts here. By the time the highlighted artifact for this post, the 4 August 1929 Sunday installment of “The Pre-view,” from the Weekly Film Pictorial Section of the Times was published, he was its editor.
The front-page feature concerned a historic film on at least two fronts. The Taming of the Shrew was the first sound adaptation of Shakespeare while its stars, power couple Mary Pickford (dubbed “America’s Sweetheart”) and the prototypical swashbuckler Douglas Fairbanks, appeared in their sole picture together. The production, directed by the largely forgotten Sam Taylor (who’d directed Pickford in her first talkie, Coquette, also released in 1929; it has been said that he sought credit for “additional dialogue by Sam Taylor,” though there is no known evidence for his) was through Pickford’s company (she was among the first women actors to do this) and distributed by United Artists, which she, Fairbanks, director D.W. Griffith, and comedy legend Charles Chaplin formed a decade prior.
The publication’s comment, accompanied by a nearly full-page photo of a scene, with a much smaller one, as well, included:
After years of speculation, plans and rumors, Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks have cast their lot finally in one picture . . . The film promises much in the way of popular interest, and has been given lavish production.
What was not mentioned was that there was a considerable amount of pratfalls and other elements of broad, sweeping comedy in an obvious attempt to “translate” the great bard to a late Twenties popular audience. Critics have generally been less than impressed with Taming of the Shrew, emphasizing the histrionics by the stars (Pickford, apparently, was unhappy with her work, while praising that of her husband) among other faults.
It has also been said that the stars’ marriage was on the rocks during filming, which may well have contributed to the intensity, misguided or not, of their performances, but some commentary has featured the high production value, while others focus on the historic value. Fortunately, the film has survived and is just now in the public domain, so you can certainly judge the quality, or lack of it, for yourself.
Another feature, with Schallert given a byline, concerns one of the best-known and beloved actors of the era: Colleen Moore. The star’s first sound picture, Smiling Irish Eyes, which, however, is a lost film and the writer noted that,
Colleen Moore is herself in the talkies . . . and as might be anticipated from the title, it is a broguish affair with an Erinish background . . .
Chiefly as a novelty, and as demonstration of a popular star’s ability to act and speak naturally in a new medium—as well as sing, begorra!—will “Smiling Irish Eyes” invoke attention. There is a humanness and a warmth to Miss Moore’s work that causes one to miss her whenever she is not taking part in a scene.
The critic went on to note that the actor “is most clever” in her performance, while her singing was judged to be “very nicely and appealingly presented.” While there may have been, in his view, a deliberate attempt to “restrain her talents a little” in this sound debut, Schallert felt that “one can see great possibilities for her future success.”
The critic went on to briefly sketch out the plot, concerning the venturing of an Irish peasant and songwriter to America, where he finds some success in a stage musical, while Moore’s character follows after not hearing from him. She arrives to hear him singing one of their tunes with another performer and leaves without announcing herself. Schallert added that “the plot will not bear deep scrutinizing,” but again praised the star’s efforts.
Whitney Williams, who wrote for the Times from 1925 to 1933 and then for thirty-five years for Daily Variety until his retirement in 1977, penned a review of The Unholy Night, a Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer release directed by the famed actor Lionel Barrymore, who’d recently decided to forego acting to work behind the camera and completed the well-reviewed Madame X starring Ruth Chatterton.
Chatterton was also featured in the “Preview Corner of Fame” on the last page with it noted that she’d made her first film under a year ago with Sins of the Father before her success in Madame X, for which she was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actress and she scored another nomination for 1930s Sarah and Son.
The mystery concerning the killing of four surviving members of a British regiment from the First World War was considered by the critic to be “one of the best screen mystery yarns” and the best in the new sound era. Law enforcement officials request one of the men, Lord Montague, who was attacked, but obviously survived, to invite his remaining nine fellow soldiers to his house, where it is learned that a substantial amount of money was involved, hence the motive for the murders.
While Williams went on to describe the movie as “thrilling and absorbing,” he did note that the finale was “somewhat theatric, with a leaning toward the melodramatic that does not entirely fit in with the general quality of the film.” He also suggested that some further editing was necessary before general release, which took place in mid-September, but praised the stars, Roland Young (who played Montague), Dorothy Sebastian and Ernest Torrence as “capital.”
Also given attention was “the cleverness of the dialogue,” while “Barrymore’s direction is excellent,” though reviewers have criticized his wooden approach, “a hopelessly involved script,” and the unbilled Boris Karloff, two years from stardom as Frankenstein’s monster, dinged for his terrible accent in his portrayal of a lawyer from India—Williams stated that the character was Persian.
The pictorial portions include references to star Clara Bow’s engagement to nightclub owner Harry Raymond, though the two never made it to the altar; new “arrivals” to Hollywood like Joan Bennett, Carole Lombard and Loretta Young, all of whom became star actors; the return of George Arliss, who’d been away from films for several years, to make talkie versions of his classic silents, Disraeli, released in 1929 and for which he won an Academy Award for Best Actor, and The Green Goddess, which was held until 1930 because Arliss preferred the other film for his first talkie and for which he garnered a second nomination; and the “Why They’re Almost Human” section with tidbits on famed canine star Rin-Tin-Tin, Petie, known and loved for his role in the Our Gang/Little Rascals comedies, and other dogs associated with Hollywood.
A few advertisements are also of interest, including for “Unguentine,” manufactured to deflect against “treacherous sunburn” and costing fifty cents a tube (by contrast, gas prices were about twenty cents a gallon—one inflation calculator states that the half-dollar would be $9.19 today); the weight-loss drug Marmola; the 20-cent ($3.67 now) per pack cigarette brand, Raleigh; and “Roto” (from rotogravure, the types of photos in the publication) sale tweed coats from J.J. Haggarty, located at Grand Avenue and 7th Street in downtown Los Angeles’ premier shopping district
As for Schallert, he remained with the Times (his only gap from 1912 was his service during World War I) until his retirement in early 1958. Just prior to that, he became the first person outside the film industry to receive a Golden Globe award from the Hollywood Foreign Press Association, a signal recognition for his decades writing about the film industry and his regular appearances at premieres.
A year before his death in September 1968, his wife Elza Baumgarten, who had a column with him in Photoplay magazine; had a late 1930s radio show reviewing movies and interviewing actors and also was a freelance and television writer, died. The couple had three sons, including character actor William, best known for television work, such playing the father on The Patty Duke Show and as the Admiral in memorable appearances on Get Smart.