DON’T cry little sucker—don’t cry! If they put Ponzi in jail the movies will get you bye and bye. You will always be taken care of—considerably more “taken” than cared for.

An easily deceived world has been led to believe that the official birth rate of the sucker clan is “one every minute”—but the man who made the calculation must have had a slow-motion watch.

We know that we are babbling words of truth. For we have before us the shining example—the word “shine” is appropriate—of a person who calls himself “Director Brennan.” Almost as long as we can remember, this self-christened “Director Brennan” has been fishing in the Shimmering Sucker Sea with the movies as his bait. And the fishing must be good, for he keeps at it, and keeps expanding.

Our first recollection of the fisherman calls to mind some very crude bait. But it worked. For a fee of several seaworthy simoleons, simpering suckers who thought they had ability that could successfully cope with a camera were permitted to see their photographic likeness in a bulletin which they were warmly assured met the eyes of all the leading producers and casting directors. The open road to a screen career was to pay for the insertion of your photograph in the bulletin—and pay again, and pay some more. Directors had to have players, and logic is logic, sooner or later some director was going to see your photo.

Only a month ago we came across one of these old bulletins in a dingy East Side printing shop. Honest, cross our heart, we are neither spoofing nor joshing—there were three hundred pound would-be ingenues and Ben Turpin doubles who aspired to play handsome heroes. Bleating boobs waited in hourly anticipation of a wire from David Griffith—“I saw your photo in Brennan’s Bulletin and must have you to play the lead in my next picture.”

In vaudeville parlance “Director Brennan” was working a “single” act then. Coming down to the Fall of 1920 we find him “doubling in brass.” If you are a silly sucker anxiously fearing that you may escape your fate we are about to show you how easy it has been made for you. Director Brennan is playing both ends against the middle—for your convenience. And—“if you don’t find what you want ask for it.”

In the New York Evening Mail we renewed our acquaintance with Director Brennan one night by reading the following ad:

The following morning we picked up the Illustrated News to find this burning message:

We must say that “Director Brennan” has our admiration. If “Safety First” is a nation’s motto, “Safety Always” is “Director Brennan’s” bible. His proposition is legally correct, and technically true. This may mean a lot to a sucker but it’s a ha-ha to us. Nevertheless, though Post Office Inspectors have looked him over, and our old friend Bill Hicks, the valiant crusader of the Specialty Salesman, has tested his spear on him, it must be stated in loud and certain terms that “Director Brennan” is “within the law.”

So line up, members of the clan. If you desire a part ownership in “When Dreams Come True”—go to it. If the dreams are slow in coming try “Time Will Tell.” After the pictures have been completed by the “successful motion picture playwright and director” and you’re wondering what the devil to do with them—ask “Inspector Flynn.” After that, get out of the line and clear the way. There was another one born the same minute that you were—and he is pleading for a “part ownership.” All we can assure you is that if “Director Brennan” offers to sell you a “part ownership” you’ll get a “part ownership.” There’s nothing wrong with that proposition.

Neither is there anything corkscrewey about the “Genuine Opportunity to Make Good in Pictures.” “If you have the talent and can qualify,” it is very simple. Of course you are not expected to be surprised when you learn that you “qualify” by having coin sufficient to pay for a test print of yourself. If the price seems pretty high for two hundred feet of film that costs about four cents a foot, be comforted by the compensating fact that despite the ad you didn’t have to show a heluva lot of “talent.”

What are you going to do with the “series of scenes, flashes and close-ups” after you get it? Search us! Perhaps it will make a dainty watch-fob. Our best society is now using a strip of moving picture film as a visiting card. There is nothing better to start a good fire on a wintry night; and we have even known of films that could be substituted for gorgonzola. Maybe yours will qualify as camembert.

At least you cannot say that “Director Brennan” did not live up to his promises and the letter of the law. He offered you a “wonderful chance to make good in pictures.” You’ve made good. Yes, sir! Cash in advance. You’ve made good, suckling, don’t worry.

You’ve been “made”—and good.

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SUGGESTIONS FOR A FEW “SUPER SPECIALS”

These ideas, offered gratuitously, are guaranteed to work in the hands of the worst amateur and are assured smashing box-office success:

For a “Super-DeMille” special: Discard the envelope chemise, and prevail on Paris to design a postcard chemise.

For a “Super-Sennett” special: Clothe the girls in modesty.

For a “Super-Lew Cody” special: Frequent close-ups of dainty molar signatures on his broad shoulders.

This way out!