Meeting Miss Dupree, I asked her what sort of an actor Fairbanks was in those days.
"Well," she said judiciously, "I think that he was about the nicest case of St.Vitus' dance that ever came under my notice." William A.Brady got him next.

Mr.Brady is quite a dynamo himself, and there was also a time in his life when he managed James J.Corbett.

The two fell into each other's arms with a cry of joy, and for seven years they touched off dramatic explosions that strewed fat actors all over the landscape and tore miles of scenery into ribbons.
"Some boy!" was Mr.Brady's tribute.

"Put him in a death scene, and he'd find a way to break the furniture." There was never a part that "Doug" Fairbanks lay down on.

To every role he brought joy and interest and enthusiasm, and the night came inevitably that saw his name in electric letters.
It is not claimed that his work as a star "elevated" the drama, but it may safely be claimed that he never appeared in any play that was not wholesome, stimulating, and helpful.
Nothing was more natural than that the movies should seek such an actor, and they set the trap with attractive bait.
"Come over to us," they said, "and we'll let you do anything you want.
Outside of poison gas and actual murder, the sky's the limit." Without even waiting to kick off his shoes, "Doug" Fairbanks made a dive.
The movie magnates got what they wanted, and Fairbanks got what he wanted.