The Motion Picture Chums’ New Idea

OR The First Educational Photo Playhouse

BY VICTOR APPLETON AUTHOR OF “THE MOTION PICTURE CHUMS’ FIRST VENTURE,” “THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS,” “TOM SWIFT SERIES,” ETC.

ILLUSTRATED

NEW YORK GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS

BOOKS BY VICTOR APPLETON

12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Price, per volume, 50 cents, postpaid.

THE MOTION PICTURE CHUMS SERIES

THE MOTION PICTURE CHUMS’ FIRST VENTURE THE MOTION PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE PARK THE MOTION PICTURE CHUMS ON BROADWAY THE MOTION PICTURE CHUMS’ OUTDOOR EXHIBITION THE MOTION PICTURE CHUMS’ NEW IDEA

THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS SERIES

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

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, 1914, by GROSSET & DUNLAP

The Motion Picture Chums’ New Idea

CHAPTER I SOMETHING NEW

“Boys, it’s a splendid idea!” cried Frank Durham.

“What is?” asked his friend and business partner, Randolph Powell.

“You look as if you had something big to tell,” chimed in Pepperill Smith, moving his chair nearer to his two comrades. “Out with it, Frank.”

The motion picture chums were seated in the cozy office of the Empire photo playhouse on upper Broadway, New York City. It was “their” playhouse, they might proudly say. Their energy, patience and genius had made it a success. They were lively, up-to-date boys, the kind who work as well as dream and play. They[2] had learned business ways. The animated yet earnest face of their leader just now showed that it was a genuine business proposition that he was bringing to the notice of his companions.

“Why,” returned Frank, “you know what our motto has always been—to keep abreast of the times.”

“And a little ahead of ’em, Durham!” added a new voice, as a bustling man of middle age entered the little office. It was Mr. Hank Strapp of Butte, Montana, the liberal, cheery-hearted financial backer of the boys. “It appears to me that this last venture of ours up at Riverside Grove has about capped the climax.”

“Let Frank go ahead with his story, Mr. Strapp!” cried Pep, who was a privileged character, his constant willingness to help out making full amends for his sometimes boisterous manner. “We’d have been good and sorry if we had missed running the Airdrome; wouldn’t we, now?”

“Well, it has doubled the value of our investment, that’s sure,” admitted Mr. Strapp, with great satisfaction.

“Then how do you know but what Frank now has a proposition up his sleeve that is twice as good? He’s always looking for new ideas. What’s the last one, Frank?”

[3]“Well,” explained the latter, “to tell it in a word: What do you say to opening a photo playhouse that shall be devoted exclusively to educational films?”

Each of Frank’s auditors received this declaration in a characteristic way. Pep came to his feet with a bound and seemed to be ready to voice his opinion in his usual tumultuous fashion. Randy’s eyes snapped as his vivid imagination seized upon the new thought. The impulsive ex-ranchman, Mr. Strapp, brought his bronzed hand down upon his knee emphatically with the words:

“Durham, I believe you’ve struck a big thing! It catches my fancy. There’s one first point we’ve got to look to, though: Can it be made to pay?”

“I feel sure that it can,” replied Frank, “in the right place.”

“And where is that,” inquired the impetuous Pep.

“Boston,” was the reply. “Boston is the home of culture. Anything high up in the entertainment line is encouraged there. I first thought of the plan a week ago. Yesterday, quite by accident, I ran across a gentleman who crystallized my vague ideas.”

“How was that, Durham?” asked the interested Westerner.

[4]“It was down at the film exchange. I was waiting for the crowd to thin out, as I had some special business with the manager, and sat down on a bench. Right next to me was a thin, intellectual looking man whom nobody could help but notice as entirely out of the ordinary. He was nervous, abstracted, impatient. He took out his watch to look at the time.

“I saw that he had opened the back case instead of the dial. I heard him say: ‘Remarkable! Extraordinary!’ Then he began poking in all his pockets. He made a vain search. He got up and looked all over the bench, and knelt down and searched under it.

“‘Can I help you, sir?’ I asked.

“‘Well, yes, I’ve lost my glasses,’ he informed me.

“‘Why,’ I told him, ‘you’ve got them on.’

“‘Aha! So I have,’ he admitted. ‘Ridiculous!’

“‘And you’re looking at the wrong side of your watch,’ I added.

“‘Dear me!’ he groaned. ‘Preposterous!’”

“Say, he’d make a good character in a funny film,” chuckled the mischief-loving Pep.

“Well,” continued Frank, “he came out of his absent-mindedness and gathered his scattered[5] wits. Those dreamy eyes of his pierced me like a gimlet.

“‘Movies man?’ he asked.

“I told him yes. You ought to have seen how eager he was. He began firing questions at me so fast I could hardly answer. They were all about motion pictures. He was like a curious youngster hungry for facts. We got so interested in my experience, before he got through with me, that he found out about all we know or have down in the movies business. Finally he jumped to his feet.

“‘See here,’ he said, grabbing my arm, ‘you are just the fellow I’ve been looking for. You come along with me.’

“‘Where?’ I asked.

“‘To my hotel,’ he replied. ‘I’ll make you rich and famous.’ There was no resisting him, so I went.”

“Who was he, anyway?” asked Randy.

Frank took a card from his pocket and held it so that all could read the name inscribed upon it:

Professor Achilles Barrington.

“And what was he after?” pressed Pep.

“Someone to exploit his ideas about a great educational film photo playhouse,” replied[6] Frank. “I never saw a man so enthusiastic over an idea as he was. It seems that he had been a professor of astronomy at Yale, or Harvard, I forget which. A rival professor set up a new theory as to the red spots on Jupiter in opposition to his own. There was a wordy war. Professor Barrington stood on his dignity and resigned. He had a little money and an ardent ambition to ‘enlighten the masses,’ as he termed it. He has mapped out a wonderful series of films for popular exhibition. I tell you, they’re great. He wants to start the finest photo playhouse in the world, facing Boston Common, and his plan has a lot of good points.”

“It would seem so,” nodded Mr. Strapp, whose face showed that he was intensely interested. “Go ahead, Durham. I’m mightily attracted by what you are telling us.”

“The professor must have talked to me for an hour when we got to his hotel. It appears he has been working on his pet idea for several months. I was surprised at the way he had planned his film subjects and sources of information and supply. He convinced me that his plans, influence and scheme for working up business were magnificent.

“It appears he was waiting to see what encouragement the film men would give him in his[7] scheme when I met him. Now he is thoroughly convinced that there never was a combination so able to put through his plans as ourselves. He was for getting my decision at once, so that some of us could go at once to Boston and see the location he had picked out for the new playhouse. I told him I would have to consult with you people and I promised he should hear from me by noon. What do you think of it, Mr. Strapp?”

“Well, you know we have run across all kinds of dreamers in this business,” replied the Westerner. “I’ve a great respect for college folks, though; little education as I’ve had myself. You’re a shrewd sort of a fellow, Durham, and don’t make many mistakes.”

“That’s right!” came with emphasis from the ever-admiring Pep.

“Thank you,” returned Frank, modestly, and with a laugh.

“Yes, sir-ree! We can trust your judgment every time, Durham,” continued Mr. Strapp. “As to the idea you’ve spoken of, it can’t be beat. As to the man who has worked it up, I suspect we’d all better see him before we come to a decision.”

“I’ll bet he’s an odd genius,” commented Pep, with an expectant twinkle in his eyes.

[8]“He’s smart, or he couldn’t have interested Frank the way he has done,” observed the loyal Randy.

“Well, if you leave it to me,” spoke the young motion picture manager, “I’ll go back to his hotel, as I promised. I think I had better bring him back here with me. It’s three hours before we start the show, so we can have a good long talk.”

“I’ll be glad to see this professor of yours, Durham,” said Mr. Strapp.

“Hello!” broke in Pep, abruptly. “Here’s somebody.”

The door of the little office swung open as someone knocked timidly on it.

Frank, craning his neck, discerned a man standing still and apparently awaiting an answer to his summons. It struck Frank that the visitor must be near-sighted, or very absent-minded, to thus mistake a wide open door for a closed one.

“Come in,” he sang out and the caller seized the knob of the door. As he did this, the unexpected ease with which the door swung towards him moved him off his balance, drove him back and banged shut, quite taking him off his feet.

“Stupendous!” gasped the caller, as he went sprawling upon the floor headlong, his tall silk[9] hat rolling in one direction, the goggles he wore in another.

“Why!” cried Frank, “It’s Professor Barrington himself!”

CHAPTER II AN ABSENT-MINDED VISITOR

“Outrageous—unpardonable!” gasped the professor, as he struggled to his feet, thus rudely aroused from his habitual abstraction.

Pep stooped to pick up the rolling hat and to hide a grin. Randy, as he rescued the glasses, bit his lip to keep his face straight. Even Mr. Strapp was amused; but he did not allow himself to show it.

Frank was always the gentleman and the boy of business. He had arisen to his feet. He extended his hand, sober as a judge, with the words:

“I am glad to see you, Professor Barrington. We were just going over that matter of yours and I was about to start for your hotel.”

“Good—glad. Then you favor my plan?”

“We are all very much interested,” observed Mr. Strapp. “Will you have a chair, sir?”

The eyes of the little coterie were fixed upon their odd visitor. Knowing Frank as they did,[11] his chums were as one in the conviction that their bright young leader had brought about a situation that promised interesting developments.

It was not the first time that some such an incident had proved the beginning of an important move in the business to which the three boys had been now devoted for nearly two years. From the first day that the movies idea had captivated these close comrades and friends, Frank had been the main mover in discoveries, suggestions and activities that had led them up to the present pleasant and useful position they filled in their own little business world.

It was Frank who had originally found a way to employ their little stock of savings, to obtain an outfit for the starting of their first motion picture venture in their native village of Fairlands, known as the Wonderland, as related in the first volume of the present series, entitled, “The Motion Picture Chums’ First Venture; Or, Opening a Photo Playhouse In Fairlands.”

It was Frank who, when the winter season was past and local trade grew dull, had discovered a promising outlook for a Wonderland No. 2 at Seaside Park. This was a popular outing resort some fifty miles from New York City. Their success with that venture has been told[12] in a second book, called, “The Motion Picture Chums at Seaside Park; Or, The Rival Photo Theaters of the Boardwalk.”

When they retired temporarily from that enterprise with the departing excursion crowds, a higher ambition had led them to seek a wider sphere of action.

In the third volume, entitled, “The Motion Picture Chums On Broadway; Or, The Mystery of the Missing Cash Box,” has been narrated the struggles, trials, and triumphs of the boys in founding their Empire photo playhouse on upper Broadway in New York City. All along the line they had found rivals, even enemies, but friends as well.

Mr. Strapp, who now sat in their midst, was one of the latter, and a loyal, helpful, companion he had become. Frank had saved the unsophisticated Westerner, fresh from ranch life, from being swindled out of a large sum of money. The ex-ranchman had appreciated this and the good qualities of the three chums, and had become their partner, to the benefit of all.

Ben Jolly, a musician of no mean ability, was another who had come into their lives. Then there were several lads whom Frank had found poor, in trouble, and needing a friend badly. He had given them a helping hand.

[13]In the last preceding book of the series, named, “The Motion Picture Chums’ Outdoor Exhibition; Or, The Film That Solved a Mystery,” the ups and downs of a new venture, the Airdrome, at Riverside Grove, located on the Palisades of the Hudson River, have been recited.

Each of the group was now filling some efficient part in the operations of the Amusement Company organized by Mr. Strapp and the motion picture chums to bring system and success to the chain of photo playhouses they conducted.

An old comrade of Ben Jolly, a professional ventriloquist named Hal Vincent, had managed the Wonderland No. 2 at Seaside Park during the season. At Fairlands a capable young fellow was in the harness, and another deserving lad was operating the Model, a small affair at Belleview, up the Hudson. Dave Sawyer, whom Frank had rescued from the clutches of a cruel taskmaster, named Slavin, had assisted Frank and his partners in making a success of the famous Airdrome, and was now located at Riverside Grove.

Now, at the beginning of the autumn season, the little group had taken up their headquarters at the principal playhouse of the chain. The Empire was the most profitable institution of the group. It was a model, up-to-date, and well[14] patronized the year around. It was like getting back home to once more enjoy its coziness. The motion picture chums had plenty to do with so many ventures on their hands, but “the Tip Top” was the constant ambition of the partners.

Frank was always on the lookout for something new to keep them abreast of the times. As has been seen, he had made an attractive discovery that day. Now its progress was signalized by the extraordinary appearance of Professor Achilles Barrington.

The odd intruder upon the little group seemed now at ease through the generous reception he had received. He set his glasses straight and brushed his hat with his coat sleeve. Then he tapped his head sharply with his knuckles, as if punishing truant ideas that had led him into a blunder, and summoning up new ones.

“Embarrassed—decidedly so,” he observed. “Deep in thought—and all that. Scarcely respectable—bolting in on you this way. Made a bad impression, I fear.”

“Not at all, sir,” responded Mr. Strapp, indulgently. “Our friend, Frank Durham, has paved the way for a genuine welcome. Let me introduce myself—Strapp is my name, and I never say what I don’t mean. I am very glad to meet a person of your education, Professor Barrington.[15] This is Randolph Powell, and this Pepperill Smith.”

“I declare, it’s like home to be among you,” said the professor, smiling expansively at the friendly greeting he received. “I must apologize for coming here uninvited, gentlemen; but I couldn’t rest thinking over the possibilities suggested by Mr. Durham. You don’t know how my heart is set on my great enterprise, nor the bother and trouble I have had getting at the right people.”

“I reckon you’ve found ’em this time, sir, if your scheme holds water at all,” declared Mr. Strapp, in his blunt fashion.

“Thank you—it makes me happy to hear you say that. I ought to apologize, Mr. Durham, for showing childish anxiety about you; but I was fooled once and I do not wish to waste any time. Now that I see what a really pretentious business you have here, I realize that you did not tell half. You see, I fell into the hands of a fellow who made all kinds of false representations, beside fleecing me out of money. It’s made me nervous about getting things started before someone else exploits the idea. I’ve become so afraid of speculators and promoters that I shall breathe more freely when I get back to my home city.”

[16]“Meaning Boston, I assume?” asked Mr. Strapp.

“That’s right, sir! And it’s the right place, and the only one where the educational film will be accepted with open arms. I know the people, Mr. Strapp. They know me, too, in my humble way.”

“And exactly what do you expect us to do?” inquired the Westerner, in a business-like tone.

“Why, I have not the capital myself to start such a photo playhouse as my plan deserves. Another thing: I am not a practical showman in any sense of the word; I have, though, enough money to arrange for the films. The films, gentlemen, comprise the whole essence of this proposition.”

“You have a special interest in that direction; eh?” intimated Mr. Strapp.

“I may say that—yes,” declared the professor. “Mediocre stuff will not do at all. The scarce, the odd, the new, the remarkable—I saw my needs when this idea first occurred to me. In my satchel at the hotel, locked up in its strong safe, are credentials showing that I am to-day in touch with film producers all over the world.”

“Why—what for?” burst out the curious Pep.

[17]“What for—what?” in turn challenged the professor, with wondering eyes.

“Locked up—in a safe! Valuable, I suppose?”

“So much so, that I am satisfied a group of unscrupulous men are after it,” asserted Professor Barrington, solemnly. “You see, in planning out my campaign I have had to proceed with caution, so that rivals would not forestall me. I have even designed a telegraphic code so that messages sent and received may not be deciphered by others to my disadvantage.”

Frank’s eyes were opening wider with mingled interest and excitement. As their eccentric visitor warmed up to his subject, the young leader of the motion picture chums saw that the professor had used order and system in his preliminary work.

“I have a primary list of many subjects, some of which are already in the hands of the picture takers,” continued the professor. “My object has been to have really educational films.”

“For instance, what?” questioned Mr. Strapp.

“Well, showing how flowers grow—animal, bird and insect life—the mysteries of the deep. Then again, in the mechanical arts—the great industries—factories, lighthouses, conventions. I am now working out a scenario for a natural[18] wonder that will electrify the thinking public. I simply give you an outline; details will come later if we make a deal.

“I have already invested several thousands of dollars in the venture. What I propose is that someone else finance the exhibition of the films in the right way. I will defray the expenses up to that point.”