The motion picture chums at Seaside Park

Title: The motion picture chums at Seaside Park

or, The rival photo theatres of the boardwalk

Author: Victor Appleton

Release date: August 3, 2011 [eBook #36964]

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/36964

Credits: Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

The

Motion Picture Chums

at Seaside Park

OR

The Rival Photo Theatres of the Boardwalk

BY

VICTOR APPLETON

AUTHOR OF “THE MOTION PICTURE CHUMS’ FIRST VENTURE,”

“THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS SERIES,”

“TOM SWIFT SERIES,” ETC.

ILLUSTRATED

NEW YORK

GROSSET & DUNLAP

PUBLISHERS

BOOKS BY VICTOR APPLETON

THE MOTION PICTURE CHUMS SERIES

12 mo. Cloth. Illustrated.

Price, per volume, 40 cents, postpaid.

THE MOTION PICTURE CHUMS’ FIRST VENTURE

THE MOTION PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE PARK

(Other volumes in preparation)

THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS SERIES

12 mo. Cloth. Illustrated.

Price, per volume, 40 cents, postpaid.

THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS

THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS IN THE WEST

THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS ON THE COAST

THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS IN THE JUNGLE

THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS IN EARTHQUAKE LAND

(Other volumes in preparation)

THE TOM SWIFT SERIES

12 mo. Cloth. Illustrated.

Price, per volume, 40 cents, postpaid.

TOM SWIFT AND HIS MOTOR CYCLE

TOM SWIFT AND HIS MOTOR BOAT

TOM SWIFT AND HIS AIRSHIP

TOM SWIFT AND HIS SUBMARINE BOAT

TOM SWIFT AND HIS ELECTRIC RUNABOUT

TOM SWIFT AND HIS ELECTRIC RIFLE

TOM SWIFT AND HIS SKY RACER

TOM SWIFT IN THE CAVES OF ICE

TOM SWIFT AMONG THE DIAMOND MAKERS

TOM SWIFT AND HIS WIRELESS MESSAGE

TOM SWIFT IN THE CITY OF GOLD

TOM SWIFT AND HIS AIR GLIDER

TOM SWIFT IN CAPTIVITY

TOM SWIFT AND HIS WIZARD CAMERA

TOM SWIFT AND HIS GREAT SEARCHLIGHT

TOM SWIFT AND HIS GIANT CANNON

GROSSET & DUNLAP

PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK

Copyright, 1913, BY

GROSSET & DUNLAP

The Motion Picture Chums at Seaside Park

CONTENTS

1CHAPTER I—LOOKING FOR BUSINESS

“Boys, this is just the spot we are looking for!”

“Yes, I am sure a good photo playhouse on this boardwalk would pay.”

It was Frank Durham who made the first declaration and his chum and young partner, Randy Powell, who echoed it. Both looked like lads in business earnestly looking for something they wanted, and determined to find it. Then the third member of the little group glanced where his companions were gazing. He was Pepperill Smith, and he burst forth in his enthusiastic way:

“The very thing!”

The three chums had arrived at Seaside Park only that morning. Their home was at Fairlands, one hundred and fifty miles west. Everything was new to them and there was certainly enough variety, excitement and commotion to satisfy 2 any lively lad. They had, however, come for something else than pleasure. They had a distinct purpose in view, and Frank’s remarks brought it up.

Seaside Park was a very popular ocean resort. It was a trim little town with a normal population of less than three thousand souls. In the summer season, however, it provided for over ten times that number. A substantial boardwalk fronted the beach where people bathed, lined with stores, booths, and curio and souvenir tents. There were several restaurants for the convenience of those who had run down from the big cities to take a day’s enjoyment and did not care to stay at the pretentious hotels.

The three friends had made for this part of the resort as soon as they had arrived. As they had strolled down the boardwalk Frank had studiously observed the general layout and the points where the pleasure-seekers most congregated. Randy was quite as much interested in peering in at the windows of the few buildings bearing “To Rent” signs. Pep made a deliberate stop wherever a show place attracted his attention. Now all three had halted in front of an unoccupied building and were looking it over critically.

“I say, fellows,” observed Frank, “this is worth looking into.” 3

“It’s certainly a fine location,” added Randy.

“Just made for us,” piped the exuberant Pep.

The building was frame and one story in height. It was of ample breadth, and as the brisk and busy Pep squinted down its side he declared it was over one hundred feet long. Randy went up to the chalked-over windows, while Frank took out a card and copied the name and address of the owner given on the rent sign.

“Hi, this way!” suddenly hailed the active Pep. “The door isn’t locked.”

“That’s great,” spoke Randy. “I want to see what the inside looks like.”

“Hello, there!” called out a man’s voice as they stepped over the threshold of the broad double doorway.

“Hello yourself, mister,” retorted Pep cheerily, “we were sort of interested in the place and wanted to look it over.”

Frank stepped forward. The man who had challenged them was in his shirt sleeves, working at a plank over two wooden horses mending some wire screens.

“We are looking over the beach with the idea of finding a good location for a show,” Frank explained.

“What kind of a show?” inquired the man, studying the trio sharply. 4

“Motion picture.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place, I can tell you that,” declared the man, showing more interest and putting aside the screen he was mending. “Pretty young, though, for business on your own hook; aren’t you?”

“Oh, we’re regular business men, we are,” vaunted Pep. “This is Frank Durham, and this is Randolph Powell. The three of us ran a photo playhouse in Fairlands for six months, so we know the business.”

“Is that so?” observed the man musingly. “Well, I’m the owner of the building here and as you see, want to find a good tenant for the season. I’m mending up the screens to those ventilating windows. I’m going to redecorate it inside and out, and the place is right in the center of the busiest part of the beach.”

“What was it used for before?” inquired Frank.

“Bowling alley, once. Then a man tried an ice cream parlor, but there was too much competition. Last season a man put in a penny arcade, but that caught only the cheap trade and not much of that.”

Frank walked to the end of the long room and looked over the lighting equipment, the floor and the ceiling. Then he nodded to Randy and 5 Pep, who joined him at a window, as if looking casually over the surroundings of the vacant place.

“See here, fellows,” Frank said, “it looks as though we had stumbled upon a fine opportunity.”

“Splendid!” voiced Randy.

“It strikes me just right,” approved Pep. “What a dandy place we can make of it, with all this space! Why, we’ll put three rows of seats, the middle one double. There’s all kinds of space on the walls for posters. I’ll have to get an assistant usher and——”

“Hold on, Pep!” laughed Frank. “Aren’t you going pretty fast? The rent may be ’way out of our reach. You know we are not exactly millionaires, and our limited capital may not come anywhere near covering things.”

“Find out what the rent is; won’t you, Frank?” pressed Randy.

“There’s no harm in that,” replied Frank.

He went up to the owner of the place while Randy and Pep strolled outside. They walked around the building twice, studying it in every particular. Randy looked eager and Pep excited as Frank came out on the sidewalk. They could tell from the pleased look on his face that he was the bearer of good news. 6

“What is it, Frank?” queried Randy, anxiously.

“The rent isn’t half what I expected it to be.”

“Good!” cried Pep.

“But it’s high enough to consider in a careful way. Then again the owner of the building insists that nothing but a strictly first-class show will draw patronage at Seaside Park. The people who come here are generally of a superior type and the transients come from large places where they have seen the best going in the way of photo plays. It’s going to cost a lot of money to start a playhouse here, and we can’t decide in a moment.”

“How many other motion picture shows are there in Seaside Park, Frank?” inquired Pep.

“None.”

Both Randy and Pep were surprised at this statement and told Frank so.

“The movies tried it out in connection with a restaurant last season, but made a fizzle of it, the man in there tells me,” reported Frank. “He says there may be a show put in later in the season—you see we are pretty early on the scene and the summer rush has not come yet. In fact, he hinted that some New York fellows were down here last week looking over the prospects in our line. I’ve told him just how we are situated, and I think he has taken quite a liking to us 7 and would like to encourage us if it didn’t cost him anything. He says he will give us until Monday to figure up and decide what we want to do. There’s one thing, though—we will have to put up the rent for the place for the whole season.”

“What—in advance?” exclaimed Randy.

“Yes—four months. It seems that one or two former tenants left their landlord in the lurch and he won’t take any more risks. Cash or the guarantee of some responsible person is the way this man, Mr. Morton, puts in.”

“Humph!” commented Pep. “Why doesn’t he make us buy the place and be done with it?”

“Well, if we start in we’re going to stick; aren’t we?” propounded Randy. “So it’s simply a question of raising enough money.”

“Mr. Morton says that along Beach Row there is nothing in the way of first-class amusements,” Frank went on. “There’s a merry-go-round and a summer garden with a band and some few cheap side shows.”

“Then we would have the field all to ourselves,” submitted Randy.

“Unless a business rival came along, which he won’t, unless we are making money, so the more the merrier,” declared Frank, briskly. “We’ll talk the whole business over this evening, fellows. In the meantime we’ll take in the 8 many sights and post ourselves on the prospects.”

“I do hope we’ll be able to get that place,” said Pep, longingly. “What a fine view we have! I’d never get tired of being in sight of the sea and all this gay excitement around us.”

The chums left the boardwalk and went across the sands, watching the merry crowds playing on the beach and running out into the water. Big and little, old and young, seemed to be full of fun and excitement. Early in the season as it was, there were a number of bathers.

“That would make a fine motion picture; eh?” suggested Randy, his mind always on business.

“Yes, and so would that!” shouted Pep. “Jumping crickets! Fellows—look!”

There had sounded a sharp explosion. At a certain spot a great cascade of water like the spouting of a whale went up into the air. A hiss of steam focussed in a whirling, swaying mass at one point. There was the echo of yells and screams.

“What’s happened, I wonder——” began Randy.

“I saw it!” interrupted an excited bather, who had ran out of the water. “A motor boat has blown up!”

“Then those on board must be in danger of burning or drowning, boys,” shouted Frank. “To the rescue!”

9CHAPTER II—THE MOTOR BOAT

Frank Durham was just as practical as he was heroic. While the frightened people in the water were rushing up the beach in a panic, and strollers along the sands stared helplessly toward the scene of the accident, Frank’s quick eye took in the situation—and in a flash he acted.

There was a reason why he was so ready-witted. In the first place he—and also Randy and Pep—had for an entire season been in actual service at the outing resort near their home town of Fairlands. It had been an experience that fitted them for just such a crisis as the present one. Boating on the lake had been the principal diversion of the guests. There had been more than one tip-over in which Frank and his chums had come to the rescue.

In fact, while the boys had regular duties, such as acting as caddies for golfers, as guides and chauffeurs, the proprietor of the resort expected them to keep an eye out at all times for mishaps to his guests. This had trained the chums in a line where common sense, speedy action, 10 and knowing how to do just the right thing at just the right time, would be useful in safe-guarding property and human life.

Frank did not have to tell his companions what to do. They knew their duty and how far they could be useful, as well as their leader. The motor boat was about a quarter of a mile out and was on fire. They could see the flames belching out at the stern. There seemed to be three or four persons aboard. As far as they could make it out at the distance they were, one of the passengers had sprung overboard and was floating around on a box or plank. The others were crowded together at the bow, trying to keep away from the flames.

Randy had dashed down the beach to where there was a light rowboat overturned on the sand. Pep was making for a long pier running out quite a distance, pulling off his coat as he went. Frank had his eyes fixed upon a small electric launch lying near the pier. He did not know nor notice what course his chums had taken. He realized that if help came to the people in peril on the motor boat it must come speedily to be of any avail.

It took Frank less than three minutes to reach the spot where a light cable held the launch against the pier. A rather fine-looking old man 11 stood nearby, glancing through his gold-rimmed eyeglasses toward the beach, as if impatient of something.

“Mister,” shot out Frank, breathlessly, “is this your craft?”

“It is,” replied the gentleman. “I am waiting for my man to come and run me down to Rock Point.”

“Did you see that?” inquired Frank, rapidly, pointing to the burning motor boat.

“Why, I declare—I hadn’t!” exclaimed the man, taking a survey of the point in the distance indicated by Frank. “What can have happened?”

“An explosion, sir,” explained Frank. “You see, they must have help.”

“Where is that laggard man of mine?” cried the owner of the launch, growing excited. “If he would come we might do something.”

“Let me take your launch,” pressed Frank, eagerly.

“Do you know how to run it?”

“Oh, yes, sir.”

“I don’t. Do your best, lad. You must hurry. The boat is burning fiercely.”

It only needed the word of assent to start Frank on his mission of rescue. There had never been a better engineer on the lake near 12 Fairlands than our hero. He was so perfectly at home with a launch that the owner of the one he had immediately sprung into could not repress a “Bravo!” as Frank seemed to slip the painter, spring to the wheel and send the craft plowing the water like a fish, all with one and the same deft movement.

Frank estimated time and distance and set the launch on a swift, diagonal course. He made out a rowboat headed in the same direction as himself, and Randy was in it. Frank saw a flying form leave the end of the long pier in a bold dive. It was Pep. Frank could not deviate or linger, for the nearer he got to the blazing craft the more vital seemed the peril of those now nearly crowded overboard by the heat and smoke. Besides that, he knew perfectly well that the crack swimmer of Fairlands, his friend Pep, could take care of himself in the water.

It was because the three chums were always together and always on the alert that nothing missed them. Some pretty creditable things had been done by them and that training came to their help in the present crisis.

In the first volume of the present series, entitled “The Motion Picture Chums’ First Venture; Or, Opening a Photo Playhouse in Fairlands,” their adventures and experiences have 13 been given in a way that showed the courage and enterprise that infused them. Frank Durham was the elder of the trio, and it was he who had started a partnership that soon outgrew odd chores about Fairlands and making themselves handy around the lake during the outing season.

Early in the Fall preceding, after a great deal of thinking, planning and actual hard work, Frank, Randy and Pep had become proprietors of a motion picture show at Fairlands. It had been no play-day spurt, but a practical business effort. They had worked hard for nearly a year, had saved up quite a sum, and learning of the auction sale of a photo playhouse outfit in the city, they had bid it in and started the “Wonderland” in the busy little town where they lived.

In this they had been greatly helped by a good-hearted, impulsive fellow named Ben Jolly. The latter was in love with the novel enterprise, liked the boys, and played the piano. Another of his kind who was a professional ventriloquist, had plied his art for the benefit of the motion picture show, delaying the auction sale with mock bids until Frank arrived in time to buy the city outfit.

They had enemies, too, and the son of a Fairlands magnate named Greg Grayson had caused them a good deal of trouble and had tried to break up their show. Perseverance, hard work 14 and brains, however, carried the motion picture chums through. They exhibited none but high-grade films, they ran an orderly place, and with Frank at the projector, Randy in the ticket booth, Pep as the genial usher and Ben Jolly as pianist, they had crowded houses and wound up at the end of the season out of debt and with a small cash capital all their own.

For all the busy Winter, warm weather hurt the photo playhouse at Fairlands. It had been a debated question with the chums for some weeks as to shutting down for the summer months. They finally decided to “close for repairs” for a spell and look around for a new location until fall. Seaside Park was suggested as an ideal place for a first-class motion picture show, and so far prospects looked very encouraging, indeed.

Right in the midst of their business deliberations the incident just related had now come up. All three of the boys had answered the call of humanity without an instant’s hesitation.

Frank forgot everything except the business in hand as he set eyes, mind and nerve upon reaching the burning motor boat in time to be of some practical service. He was near enough now to pretty well grasp the situation. The launch had been going at a high rate of speed, but the 15 expert young engineer set the lever another notch forward, and sent the craft slipping through the water like a dolphin.

The man in charge of the burning boat, Frank saw, had a pan with a handle. He was dipping this into the water and throwing its contents against the blazing after-part of the boat. Some gasoline or other inflammable substance, however, seemed to burn all the more fiercely for this deluge, and the man had to shrink farther and farther away as the flames encroached upon him.

A portly lady was shrieking constantly and waving her arms in a state of terror. It was all that a younger woman, the other passenger, could do to hold her in her seat and restrain her from jumping overboard.

Frank had just a passing glance for the other actor in the scene. This was the fellow he had seen leap overboard when the boat blew up. He was somewhat older than Frank, and having cast adrift a box, the only loose article aboard that would serve to act as a float, he had drifted safely out of reach of the flames.

“He’s a coward, besides being a cad,” involuntarily flashed through Frank’s mind. Then he made the launch swerve, and shouted to the occupants of the motor boat:

“All ready!” 16

Frank, with his experience of the past, calculated so nicely that the launch came alongside the burning motor boat at precisely the right angle to allow the man in charge of the latter craft to grapple with a boat-hook.

“Quick, Mrs. Carrington,” he spoke to the older lady, “get aboard the launch as fast as you can.”

The woman’s girl companion helped her get to her feet, but she pitched about so that but for a clever movement on the part of Frank she would have gone into the water.