Friday, November 28, 2014

Charles Champlin, Lillian Gish and Jim Patterson

My friend Charles Champlin, longtime film critic for the LA Times, died November 16. He was 88 and passed on Alzheimer's.

Following is his obituary for Lillian from March 1993

Lillian was Always One in a Million
An Appreciation  by Charles Champlin

Hollywood- During Jimmy Carter's presidency, Lillian Gish was invited to the White House for a reception marking the 10th anniversary of the American Film Institute. After the brief ceremony, Gish stood in the ornate Red Room talking with friends. She looked around and said, "I've been in this room before. Mr. Griffith and I came here to meet President Harding.

It was an astonishing remark, and another reminder of just how much of the whole life of the motion pictures Gish's career had spanned even then. She was not quite as old as the movies when she died on Sunday at the age of 99; the movies are a century old  more or less, depending on which event one uses as a start date.

But Gish had lived the whole development of the motion picture as an art form, from the crudest one reelers when her Mr. Griffith- David Wark Griffith- was first beginning to perfect the language of filmmaking, to "The Whales of August" in wide-screen color and stereophonic sound in 1987, when she was already past 90.

Longevity is its own kind of miracle with its particular brand of fascination. Thinking of Gish, it is impossible not to think as well of the commonplaces, from radio and television to the ball point pen, that came in her lifetime, let alone men on the moon and a space probe escaping the solar system and sailing on into interstellar space.

It is inconceivable that an actress of another generation will be able to know quite the life in art that Gish knew, born in a trunk, and trouping at 5, inventing (ina  sense) the art of screen acting even as her mentor Griffith was demonstrating all the things that could be done with the camera and in the cutting room.

No current actress would likely be asked to do - or be agreeable to doing - the life-endangering stunts Gish did herself, most unforgettably crossing the ice floe in "Way Down East," a sequence that is difficult, if thrilling, to watch even now.

Perhaps nothing was more notable about her long career than she survived and conquered not only the movies shift from silence to sound (which stopped many a career in its tracks) but prospered throughout  the advancing of her own years - an inevitable process that has ended many an acting career, for women more cruelly than for men.

Had she been only a film actress, maturity might have been a problem for her too. But she was an actress for all venues and when Hollywood - which for all practical purposes invented the cult of youth and perpetuates it still - looked askance, Gish went to the theater, where the quality of performance triumphs over all. In her 30s she could play a still youthful Ophelia to John Gielgud's Hamlet.

Sadly, too few of her silent films are easily accessible for viewing, so that Gish at the peak of her powers and originality has been for later generations a name and a legend more than a presence, and the later work in supporting roles, as in Robert Altman's "The Wedding" (1978) is admirable without being indelible. Longevity has its penalties as well as its rewards."

(C) LA TImes

END

Jim Notes:

As an East Coaster I occasionally saw some of Champlin's articles in other publications or clips from friends and relatives in California. It was the PBS series Film Odyssey that brought Champlin into my high school film world in 1972. It was a 26-week series on international film with some great, great examples of world cinema.

Champlin provided brief discussions of the film to be screened and did some interviews with cinema greats like Hitchcock, King Vidor, Roman Polanski, and Stanley Kaufman.

Films I saw for the first time included:  Jules et Jim, The Blue Angel, Grand Illusion, M, The Seven Samurai, Beauty and the Beast, The 39 Steps with Robert Donat, Potemkin, Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, Knife in the Water, The Overcoat, Our Daily Bread, Yojimbo, The Last Laugh,  Man of Aran, L'AVVENTURA, Two Daughters, Los Olividados, and Ballad of A Soldier (Russian).


I corresponded with Judith Crist about these films because she was the film critic for TV Guide and wrote brief reviews of each week's film. Years later I met her several times in New York. Late in her life, we discussed why PBS stopped screening foreign films. We took hope TCM would continue to screen some of them.

Also, here is a brief Gish obit from USA Today.

USA Today March 1, 1993, page 40.

Weak, waif-like, clinging to an ice floe as it sweeps toward a waterfall in Way Down East – an enduring image of Lillian Gish, who died Saturday at 99.

But such images belie the indomitable spirit of the actress, who refused a stand-in for Way Down East (1920) and ultimately made 100-plus films in 75 years.

Gish was a favorite of pioneering director D. W. Griffith, appearing in his silent classics The Birth of a Nation (1915), Intolerance (1916) and 38 others. Considered among her finest silent films was La Boheme (1926), in which she reportedly went without water for days to look convincing in her death scene.

Gish got her first stag role at age 5 and returned to the boards in the 1930s, appearing in Uncle Vanya, Camille, and Hamlet. Later she took character roles in such films as Duel in the Sun (1946), The Night of the Hunter (1955) and A Wedding (1978), in which the bulk of her role consisted of playing a corpse. Her last starring role was 1987’s The Whlaes of August with Bette Davis.

She received an honorary Oscar in 1971, a Kennedy Center Honor in 1982 and American Film Institute’s lifetime achievement award in 1984.

Gish never married, saying “marriage is a 24-hour-a-day job, and I have always been much too busy to make a good wife.


© USA Today

Jim Note: I corrected obvious errors in these published obits


Jim Patterson, Editor
LDGish.blogspot.com



Lillian Gish's Oscar Acceptance Speech

National Observer, April 26, 1971
The Oscars: How About Some Dignity
Comment by Clifford A. Ridley
Jim Note: A strongly critical comment on the changing film industry.

"[T]his year''s Academy Awards were really too much."

Deadly Plasticity

"No, the trouble wasn't with the awards themselves; nor was it even the deadly plasticity of the affair. The difficulty with the Academy Awards isn't that they're dull, but that they're so smug and 'chummy.' Desperately needing to be not only respected but loved, the Hollywood mentality proceeds to fantasize its ego-desires as fact, to assume that all of us share in the sleazy tradition of this spurious exercise."

Final two paragraphs:

"But no one is really asking Hollywood to walk in the footsteps of the masters: it would more than suffice for it to go its own way with a modicum of grace and dignity. The other night Lillian Gish, almost alone of the people on view, demonstrated that this is no elusive goal. In an acceptance speech in ironic contrast to the saccharine, overwritten piece of mush that Melvyn Douglas delivered about her, she said simply that movies are 'the heartbeat of our technical century.' She and her like, she said, strove to serve that heartbeat, and I hope we served it well.'

That woman has class. it's a wonder they let her in."

The YouTube of Lillian's acceptance speech is very brief and poignant. Her multiple drafts of her acceptance speech are long and, thrilling, with her mentioning see Earth from the Moon on TV. We'll share some of that in the future.
'

Jim Patterson, Editor
LDGish.blogspot.com


Sunday, November 23, 2014

Gish Sisters Oxford History of World Cinema

Lillian Gish (1893-1993) Dorothy Gish (1898-1968)

Lillian and Dorothy Gish were born in Ohio, daughters of an actress and her absentee drifter husband. Stage juveniles being in constant demand, both girls were acting professionally before they were 5. They were enticed into movies by their friend Mary Pickford, who was already working for D. W. Griffith, and they made their screen debut together in his An Unseen Enemy (1912).

Over the next two years the sisters played numerous roles for Griffith's company, both together and separately. At first, Griffith had trouble telling them apart (tying colored ribbons in their hair, he addressed them as 'red' and 'blue') but their very different characters, and screen personae, soon emerged. Dorothy was effervescent, gregarious, a natural comedienne. Lillian was serious, intense, with a toughness belied by her delicate looks. "When Dorothy arrives the party begins," Lillian once remarke, adding wryly, "When I arrive it usually ends."

Dorothy, Griffith noted, "was more apt to getting the director's idea than Lillian, quicker to follow it, more easily satisfied with the result. Lillian conceived an ideal and patiently sought to realize it. Since this dedicated approach appealed more to Griffith's own workaholic temperament, Lillian generally got the better parts, and was awarded the led in his epoch-making Civil War epic The Birth of a Nation (1915). As Elsie Stoneman, daughter of a family split by the conflict, she transcended the hearts-and-flowers, virgin-in-jeopardy elements of the role with a performance of sustained emotional truth. The film made her a major star, as Griffith acknowledged in casting her as the iconic cradle -rocking Mother linking the four stories of his next epic, Intolerance (1916).

There seems to have been no rivalry between the sisters. Lillian suggested Dorothy as a rowdy French peasant girl in their first major film together, the First World War drama Hearts of the World (1918), and was amused when Dorothy stole the picture. Eve so, Dorothy, Dorothy continued  to work for other directors, while Griffith reserved Lillian ("She is the best actress I know. She has the most brains.") for his silent films.

Lillian's supreme performance for Griffith was as the abused child of Broken Blossoms (1919), terrorized by a brutal father and finding tenderness with a lonely young Chinaman in nineteenth-century Limehouse. It was pure Victorian melodrama, dripping with with sentiment, but transmuted by the subtlety of Gish's acting and the power-for all her ethereal looks-with which she could convey raw emotion. Way Down East  (1920), no less melodramatic, made equally good use of her blend of physical frailty and inner tenacity.

Dorothy continued to specialize in comedies, including one directed by Lillian, Remodeling her Husband (1920). It did well, but Lillian found directing "too complicated" and refused to try it again. Dorothy's range reached far beyond comedy, as shown by their finest film together, Orphans of the Storm (1921). They played sisters caught up in the French Revolution: Dorothy's performance as the blind sister, moving but not for a moment mawkish, isin no way overshadowed by Lillian's

It was their last film for Griffith, who could no longer afford Lillian's salary. They parted from him amicably and moved to the Inspiration Company, where they made Romola (1924) together-from George Eliot's novel. Lillian signed a contract with MGM. Dorothy went to London for four films for Herbert Wilcox, of which the most successful was Nell Gwynne (1926).

Lillian was now one of the highest paid (400,00 p.a.) actresses in Hollywood, able to approve her own scripts and directors. She chose Victor Sjostrom to direct  her in two of her greatest roles: a passionate, wayward Hester Prynne in Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter (1926), and the gentle wife whipped into desperation by the elements in The Wind (1928), a performance of awesome physicality.

But fashions were changing. Garbo's star was in the ascendant, and Lillian was too identified with virginal virtues and the silent cinema. Irving Thalberg offered to fabricate a scandal for her; she coolly declined, and returned to the live stage. Dorothy did the same, her film career virtually over. Lillian, though, appeared in a dozen or so films after 1940, of which the finest was Charles Laughton's Gothic fable The Night of the Hunter (1955). In it she portrays, as Simon Callow (1987) comments, "the spirit of absolution and healing ... with a kind of secular sanctity which cannot be forged." Gish relished making the film: "I have to go back as far as D.. W. Griffith to find a set so imbued with purpose and harmony." Coming from her there could be no greater praise. (Many newspapers carried photographs of Lillian with Laughton, co-star Shelly Winters, Mary Pickford and columnist Hedda Hopper when Lillian making her return to Hollywood. She arrived by train.)

Lillian outlived her sister by a quarter-century, aging gracefully and still acting in her mid-nineties. Well before her death, she saw herself securely reinstated as the supreme actress of the silent cinema. Dorothy, a fine actress if not a great a one, still awaits a fair reassessment.

(c) Oxford History of World Cinema: The definitive history of cinema worldwide Oxford 1996 edition with Notes from my Gish lectures and academic appearances. 

See earlier posting on D. W. Griffith circa 2005.

Jim Patterson, Editor
www.LDGish.blogspot.com


Friday, November 14, 2014

Jim Patterson at the Dorothy and Lillian Gish Prize 2014 New York.



Washington diplomat Jim Patterson recently attended the annual Dorothy and Lillian Gish Arts Prize in New York. The 2014 recipient was Maya Lin who designed the Civil Rights Memorial in Montgomery, Alabama, and the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington. Lin received $300,000 and the Gish medal.


Patterson began a friendship with Lillian Gish, who gained international stardom in D. W. Griffith's 1915 Civil War epic “The Birth of a Nation,” in the late 1960s after she starred in an ABC TV production of "Arsenic and Old Lace" with Helen Hayes.



An Academy Award-winner, Gish was inducted into the Alabama Arts Hall of Fame in Birmingham in April 1977 along with Zelda Fitzgerald and director D. W. Griffith. Miss Gish’s last film was 1987’s “The Whales of August,” filmed on Cliff Island, Maine, where Patterson visited the remote location. The Gish Prize is administered by JPMorgan/Chase. For more information on the Gish Prize, check the Internet.





Gish Prize recipient Maya Lin with colleagues. MoMA, November 12, 2014.

"I am deeply touched and grateful to become a part of this astonishing line of Prize winners, all of whom were selected because of the very simple but powerful goal set down by Lillian Gish: to bring recognition to the contributions that artists make to society, and to encourage others to follow on that path." _Maya Lin, from the Prize program distributed by Museum of Modern Art, November 12, 2014.

David Henry Hwang served as 2014 Selection Committee Chair and committee members were Ella Baff, Fairfax Dorn, Clive Gillinson and visual artist Carrie Mae Weems. 

Former May Michael Bloomberg, representing Bloomberg Philanthropies, praised Lin for her work on New York's magnificent 9/11 Memorial.


Note on Lillian's program bio note: The author used the disputed 1893 date of birth for Lillian. 
The program noted and and speaker Jacqueline Elias stated Dorothy, Lillian and mother made their screen debut in D. W. Griffith's An Unseen Enemy. For Dorothy and Lillian that is true. Mother Gish did not, according to my research, have a screen role in that film. The only other credited female role was a woman who was part of the robbery, described as a "slatternly maid," by some critics and historians. Mother Gish likely worked on the film crew in some capacity.

It is also true Mother Gish appeared in Lillian's last film, "The Whales of August." In the scene where Lillian is dusting a framed photograph on the wall, it is a photograph of Baby Lillian with Mother. Lillian says, "Hello, Mother," in the scene.
   
Jim Patterson, Editor

Saturday, November 8, 2014

Lillian Gish on The Birth of an Era, Stage Magazine 1937

Lillian is sole author of this 1937 article, "The Birth of an Era," subtitled "The first twelve-reeler, the first two-hour feature, the first film to be seen in legitimate theaters at theater prices was The Birth of a Nation."

Page one of the article has a black-and-white still of Lillian standing next to the mustachioed Union Soldier from "The Birth of Nation." Caption: Lillian Gish, the unidentified extra, and the celebrated wistful glance. Although  the fans clamored for his name, the soldier in this famous still has always remained unknown."

Page two of the article has a half-page black-and-white still of one of Griffith's battle scenes. Lillian said smoke pots were used to simulate smoke from guns and cannons. Caption: "One of the first panoramic battle scenes, and still one of the greatest."

The final page of the three-page article has one one black-and-white still of the battle scene where Henry B. Walthall, the Little Colonel, and men approach the Union battle line to shove the Confederate battle flag into the mouth of a Union cannon. Caption: More masterpieces from th camera of Mr. Griffith's Billy Bitzer. Above, hand to hand conflict between Union and Confederate forces." The second black and white still shows Klansmen charging on Negroes with the caption: "Right, Ku Kluxers charge on Negro forces."


Begin Lillian's text:

"As I look back upon the making of the picture, the chief difficulty seems to have been finding the money to go on with the ideas Mr. Griffifth had in his head-or perhaps I should say in his heart, as he was from Kentucky, the son of Roaring Jake Griffith, a coonel in the Confederate Army. He firmly believed that the truth of the Civil War had never been told, and he was quite willing to dip into his heart's blood to tell, through this new medium of the silent screen (in many ways his own invention), the story he believed in above all else in the world. I am sure it seemed more real to him than the World War, which was then taking place.

As nothing like a twelve-reel film had ever been attempted before, he naturally met with opposition on all sides. When the so-called business men of the picture industry, believing him to be an impractical dreamer, re fused him financial aid, he went begging to the merchants of Los Angeles for a thousand dollars here, five thousand there, another two thousand from someone else.

I remember my mother, having saved three hundred dollars, implored Mr. Griffith to use the money for the picture, but as it was all we had in the world he refused to take it. As we had been working without salaries for weeks, he couldn't say when pay checks would start coming in again. The picture actually took nine weeks to make, but there were many days during this time. when work stopped and Mr. Griffith would be out trying to raise the money to continue.

At first we were told that we were going to do a moving-picture version of the (highly popular) play and (bestselling) novel by (Baptist Minister) Thomas Dixon called The Clansman, but anyone who has ever read either of those and has seen the picture, The Birth of a Nation, will know how far afield from the originals we went.

As actors, our picture schooling had been similar to that which Mr. Stanislavsky so graphically describes in Elizabeth Reynolds Hapgood's fine translation of An Actor Prepares. There was never anything written for us and no scenario (any more than there were designs for sets; Mr. Griffith would explain to the head carpenter what he wanted and he would build them.)

There was a standard call for rehearsal whenever there was rain or the sun disappeared, as at such times all cameras stopped since it was before the days of artificial lights. During the rainy season there would be weeks of rehearsals, with Mr. Griffith outlining stories to be filmed far into the future. Some of them, including Faust and Joan of Arc, never reached the screen. We were rarely assigned parts, and the younger members of the company always rehearsed for the older members when the story was being developed, and all the "writing" was done by Griffith as he moved groups of characters around a room.

When the story was ready to go before the camera, the older players who were to play the parts on the screen came forward and acted the parts they had been watching us rehearse for them. This method gave them the advantage of not being over-rehearsed, and lso of watching the story quietly unfold before their eyes, giving them ideas that might have escaped had they not been kept fresh for the actual creation. It also taught the more inexperienced members what eventually would be expected of them.

At first I was not cast to play in The Clansmen. My sister and I had been the last to join the company, and we naturally supposed, this being a big picture, that the main assignments would go to the older members. But one day while we were rehearsing the scene where the colored man picks up the northern girl gorilla-fashion, my hair, which was very blond, fell far below my waist, and Griffith, seeing the contrast in the two figures, assigned me to play Elsie Stoneman (who was to have been Mae Marsh). My sister, a child at the time, was to have played the girl of twelve, little sister to the Colonel.

Very often we would play episodes without knowing the complete story, or in which film Griffith was going to use them, as he shrouded his ideas in great secrecy for fear another studio would hear of them and get them on the screen first. Only Griffith knew the continuity of The Birth of a Nation in its final form. There was much anxiety, and many tears shed, over the assignment of parts, as we all wanted to prove our worth before it was too late, and with photography in its undeveloped state we knew we would be passe by the time we reached eighteen.

The cameraman for The Birth of a nation was Billy Bitzer, who, together with Mr. Griffith, was inventor of the various new devices employed in the photography of the picture-devices never used before, and innovations in the art of motion-picture photography. Among us actors he was famous for his accurate eye, and he left his mark on everything his lens faced by bringing to accurate vision on the screeen many things the eye itself could not discern. This was wonderful for battlefields but most trying on faces. We used to beg for our close-ups to be taken just after dawn or before sunset, as the soft yellow glow was much easier to work in than the hard, overhead sun of midday.

Henry B. Walthall, or Wally, as he was affectionately called, came  from Alabama, and was everything in life that his character of the Little Colonel was on the screen: patient, dear, and lovable, but with little idea of time. Consequently all during the filming of the picture there was  a man hired for the sole purpose of getting him into make-up and to work on time, which in those days was around seven in the morning (that meant getting up at five and working steadily, sometimes without lunch, until sundown.)

Sometimes, Griffith was making scenes we were not in, he would send us to practice walking, first with comedy, then with drama, with pathos, or with tragedy. When he was satisfied with that we would have to learn to run in these different manners. Then we would have to do it with subtlety, for when the amera would be close to us, then broader, for when the camera would be in the distance, then for such times as the camera would be far in the distance (which would necessitate acrobatics); all this with complete body control and balance, as t might have to be done on a sea wall or on a mountain top. You had to know howto dance and handle horses, or if you didn't, these had to be learned outside the studio hours.

It is very strange in those old pictures to watch the wind blowing through the rooms, when the property man had forgotten to tack down curtains, tablecloths, and such tell-tale properties.

In The Birth of a Nation  we used as many as six hundred people, and the complete cost of the picture was $91,000. It was the first motion picture to run for two hours, and to be shown in a legitimate theater twice a day at theater prices. Its first run in New York was forty-seven consecutive weeks at the Liberty Theater. When it was shown in Boston it caused race riots and the firemen had to be called out to assist the police in dispersing the mob.

Mr. Griffith had his reward, however, when President Woodrow Wilson saw it t the White House and said, "It is like writing history with lightning, and my only regret is that is is all so terribly true." When this news flashed through the country, and it was learned that a mere motion picture had the power to stir feeling so deeply, The Birth of a Nation's reputation was made, and motion pictures took their place as an important part o our daily life."

Notes:

I like this article for several reasons, The Birth of a Nation was still fresh in the mind of Miss Gish and the public in 1937.  In the early 1930's it was re-released with a talking introduction by Griffith and Walter Houston.

It is interesting Lillian said Mae Marsh was planned to play the part of Elsie Stoneman. In her autobiography, The Movies, Mr. Griffith, and Me, she wrote Griffith had selected Blanche Sweet, page 133, for the part. But Lillian was younger with a fairer complexion, blond hair, and she had the look of female innocence. All of these attributes were important for the near ending scene where the Mulatto, or mixed race man, forces himself and his affections on Lillian. She fights him off as best she could and in the end is saved by the KKK.

It is interesting also Lillian admits in this piece, which she wrote, "When it was shown in Boston it caused race riots and the firemen had to be called out to assist the police in dispersing the mob."

Many critics and historians state Miss Gish defended the film and Griffith from charges of racism her whole life. She didn't defend him in this piece which, I stress, she wrote at a time The Birth of a Nation was still doing big business in theaters. .Sound films made silent films worthless, comical and unpopular but not The Birth of a Nation.

Late in life Lillian said she was proudest of this picture because it set the standards by which all other films were made. She did not condone its violence and racism except as it being accurate history as far as Griffith and Rev. Thomas Dixon were concerned.

In a July 11, 1961 Birmingham Post-Herald article, "Actress Defends Classic, Pro-Southern Movie," Miss Gish doesn't go quite that far. The article is written by Travis Wolfe, identified as a Post-Herald staff writer, The lede is "After 46 years, Lillian Gish still is defending David Wark Griffith's classic movie "The Birth of a Nation."

"Miss Gish, who starred in the very pro-Southern film of 1915 and who until last week appeared in "All the Way Home: at the Belasco Theater, said, "Birth of  Nation" was unjustly criticized."

"When the picture was shown in New York 46 years ago, it caused riots. Some persons objected to depicting Ku Klux Klansmen as heroes.

"Recently, a Montgomery, Ala., group had difficulty obtaining a copy of the silent film from New York for a private showing because of its controversial subject matter. The classic was banned in Atlanta last year even though it played there when it was originally released.

"Griffith was a great artist," said Miss Gish. "He put his life into that picture. He was marked with his personality and craftsmanship. He told the Civil War story as he knew it, and it was told to him since childhood. If it had not been sympathetic to the South, 'Birth of a Nation' wouldn't have been a Griffith film because Griffith was a Southerner."

The remainder of the article concerns Miss Gish's role on "All the Way Home." She spoke of her next project.

"It will be a live television show," said the 65-year-old Miss Gish. "Television had vitality during the early years.  When it was originating live from New York, this vitality was in the atmosphere, as in the early film days. There was only one chance, and you had to do it right. Television had the excitement, the challenge. People were dedicated and worked hard, and it showed in the finished product. I'd like to see more of that in television today."

Lillian admitted frustration with her role in "All the Way Home." "It's the modern lighting. I think lighting in the modern theater is wrong. It puts actors in the dark."

"It is not what is known as a commercial play," Miss Gish said. "A commercial play nowadays usually is a musical comedy. 'All the Way Home' is simply a great play."

"The play will remain open even though Miss Gish left the cast. She was replaced by another actress."  Lillian noted she was going to Europe "for a little rest."


Jim Patterson, Editor
LDGish.blogspot.com


Friday, November 7, 2014

Lillian Gish, My Religion, Helen Keller, and Jim Patterson





Lillian in the recording booth reading Helen Keller's "My Religion" to vinyl recording for distribution to libraries for the blind. The recording is available today on CD. Rights have not been granted for YouTube distribution. (Special photo courtesy of Talking Books Studios and Swedenborg Foundation.)


Photo Caption: Lillian Gish, silent screen star of the 1920's, recently recorded My Religion, a personal account of Helen Keller's faith, for talking books. Miss Gish did the recording at the request of the Swedenborg Foundation, Inc. and because of her personal friendship with Miss Keller. The book was Miss Keller's tribute to Emmanuel Swedenborg, an 18th century Swedish scientist and theologian. (American Federation of the Blind Newsletter, vol 9, No 3, October 1974.)


In a typed note by Marguerite L. Levine dated July 9, 1974,


Subject: Meeting with Miss Lillian Gish at AFB Talking Book Studios.

Miss Gish came today to the talking Book studios escorted by Mr. Darrell Ruhl, Editor of the Newsletter of the Swedenborg Foundation, in order to record "My Religion," one of Miss Keller's works.

Miss Gish met Helen Keller first in Hollywood in 1918 when Miss Keller was making the film "Deliverance." The Gish sisters, Lillian and Dorothy, were invited to join Helen Keller and her party on a horseback riding excursion. Dorothy refused as she expected it to be a dreadful experience, but Lillian went along and remembers it as one of the gayest times she ever had. Helen was obviously having great fun and shared her pleasure with her companions.

Another memorable occasion for Miss Gish was the premiere of "Helen Keller in Her Story" at which she sat next to Poly Thomson who interpreted for Miss Keller who seemd to follow the film with the greatest interest and ease.

There was never any correspondence between Miss Keller and Miss Gish but they met frequently through their respective lives.

Miss Gish will return July 11 to continue her reading of "My Religion," At that time we will visit the Helen Keller Room together and take pictures for the AFB Newsletter and the Swedenborg Newsletter.


From Box 35 of Lillian's Papers:

Box 35
Letter from Darrell Ruhl, Swedenborg Foundation, March 5, 1974,

Background: "Helen Keller her wonderful life of service which inspired countless numbers of people the world over. Helen Keller was a reader of Swedenborg In 1927 Helen Keller wrote a tribute to Swedenborg an eloquent little book entitled "My Religion" in which she credited the Swedish author with her spiritual development. The book has inspired thousands over the years and has been reprinted 13 times. It was made into a “talking book” for the disabled many years ago but Swedenborg lost the recording.

"We want to re-record it and make it available free of charge to libraries for the blind and offer it at cost to anyone else. The last time this book was recorded it was read by a man, but this time we feel it should be read with the feeling that Miss Keller herself were talking. It would have so much more impact than an impersonal voice.”

“We feel you would be an ideal actress for this project and would be most interested to learn your feelings regarding the undertaking of recording this book. We are aware that your time is valuable and your stature is such that your professional services might well be prohibitive, but unless we approach you, we’ll never know. 

“If you can find the time to read "My Religion," I think you will find it as poetic and inspiring as Dr. Norman Vincent Peale did as you will note in his introduction to the book. “ 

Darrell Ruhl, Assistant to the Manager, March 5, 1974.”

March 12, 1974 letter from Darrell Ruhl to Miss Gish:

"Thank you for telephoning yesterday.  I was most pleasantly surprised and certainly pleased to hear from you. 

“We are thrilled that your reaction to Helen Keller’s book was so favorable. It has long been a goal of mine to have this book recorded again and preferably by an actress who could make the book live. You have the necessary qualities. As a matter of fact, I wrote to you first thinking I would start at the top and go from there.

“As I listened to your voice I could clearly visualize how the recording would sound. I feel that given the eloquence of the writing and the inspirational message of My Religion, your reading will be just exactly the right ingredient to make a recording which will be of so much help to the blind and shut-ins – and to anyone else for that matter.

Letter of July 26, 1974, to Miss Gish from T H Spiers Executive Secretary of Swedenborg Foundation: 

“I would like to express our sincere gratitude for sharing your time and talent with us in recording 'My Religion.'

“We are confident your dramatization of this book will provide inspiration for both those deprived of vision and those nearly blind.  It will be a rare privilege for those ordering this “talking book” to have the eloquent words of Helen Keller read by one of our greatest actresses. 

“Your reading of the book was in perfect harmony with the tone of "My Religion" and even enhanced the meaning. He further stated that you were extremely diligent in seeking to make Swedenborg’s concepts as clear as possible in view of the fact that his 18th century language is often difficult to read.” For this work, Miss Gish received a check for $200 and a leather bound copy of "My Religion."
                                                                                                                       

Historical note: In August 1974 The Library of Congress, Division for the Blind and Physically Handicapped, Mona M. Werner and John Kozar, ordered 900 copies of My Religion by Helen Keller and read by Lillian Gish for its readers. 

The 900 copies were distributed to Libraries for the Blind throughout the country. I am positive it is the grand combination of Helen Keller and Lillian Gish that aroused their interest to such an extent. The service you have provided will be of tremendous value to countless numbers of handicapped people for years to come. Signed: Darrell Ruhl. "PS Thank you for the beautiful letter I received at home.”

In 2014 Helen Keller International and Jim Patterson nominated My Religion to the Library of Congress's National Recording Registry. Winners will be announced in April 2015. Send your supporting cards and letters to Dr. James Billington, Library of Congress, Washington DC.