Who Is That? The Late Late Viewer’s Guide to the Old Old Movie Players (1967)

 I wanted to share some pages from a fun vintage book which was recently re-discovered in our library—Who Is That? The Late Late Viewer’s Guide to the Old Old Movie Players was Warren B. Meyers’ great attempt to catalogue most of the vivid supporting players seen in vintage movies of the 1930s, ’40s and ’50s. At the time of its publication (1967), old movies were primarily the domain of the off-hours on local television stations. That was it—unless one lived near a creatively programmed repertory house in a big city, or if you enjoyed watching 8MM films at home, were willing to spend the money to acquire them, and didn’t mind the sketchy quality. 

It was kind of nice, then, that Meyers put so much effort into this book compiling endless head shots of forgotten actors, and organizing them by the “types” they were best known for. Joyce appears in the chapter entitled My, Isn’t She Cheap, which assembles just about every brassy blonde, cynical good time girl, or slightly used yet irrepressibly cheerful best gal you’ve ever seen in a black and white flick. The groovy illustrations of Jerry Lang and Gösta Viertel are the cherry on top. At the risk of breaking copyright laws (on a 58 year-old book!), I’m including Meyers’ text for this chapter, along with scans of the pages underneath. Enjoy!

Used copies of Who Is That? The Late Late Viewer’s Guide to the Old Old Movie Players are available at AbeBooks here.

Your prissy maiden aunt very likely clucked her disapproval, but in her secret heart she probably loved these tough tomatoes, too, for one could always see the heart of gold and the glint of good humor that lay just below the “hard”, wise exterior. In their frizzy henna rinses, plucked and pencilled eyebrows, and too-generously applied lipstick, these ladies staffed countless dance halls, switchboards, and all-night diners. Generally too obvious or too comedic to play the “other woman”, they usually starved for romance, although they were occasionally paired off with low, lovable brutes like Nat Pendleton, or seen as the moll of some featured hoodlum. In that latter context, they generally wound up dead, or at least bereaved. This was not a crowded category, and a walk among the counters of your nearest Woolworth’s will probably reveal more specimens of the type than inhabited all of Hollywood.