ICE CREAM FOR BREAKFAST

CHAPTER ONE 1915, Brooklyn, New York. Silent movies (called the “flickers”) are the hottest ticket in entertainment, so D.W. Griffith, over at the Biograph Studio, is supplying the nation with film drama after film drama…an assembly line of gloom and doom. To a girl of seventeen from Staten Island this new kind of show business ignites her lively imagination. 5’ 1”, chestnutty hair, eyes swimming with mischief, Mabel Normand has already made her mark in Manhattan as an advertising model for illustrator Charles Dana Gibson. She is “The Gibson Girl,” an icon of female beauty and the face of a brand new soft drink called Coca Cola. But that’s the past. Today is the first day of Mabel’s phenomenal future. The office door reads --- MACK SENNETT Assistant to Mr. Griffith Mabel sucks in a deep breath, makes the sign of the cross, swings open the door and charges smack dab into the back of a sofa, knocking her on her butt! She bounces to her feet, dives over the sofa, lands a trio of somersaults, then springs up and perches on the edge of Mack’s desk where she announces, “I’m Mabel Normand and I’m here to make movies!” Mack breaks into a deeply-felt laugh. There’s nothing he likes more than rough and tumble humor. 6’ 2”, heavyset, this lumbering twenty-nine-year-old Canadian ironworker came to New York seeking a career in show business. While appearing onstage as the back end of a horse Mack heard that a fella could make as much as five dollars a day in the movies. He applied at Biograph and was instantly hired. D.W. Griffith had a nose for talent. “Your entrance certainly caught my eye,” Mack tells Mabel in his resounding bass voice. “A dive, triple roll and leap, very funny…Unfortunately, funny doesn’t fly with the kinds of pictures Griffith makes. I try to tell him to put some fun in his intense dramas, but he thinks comedy is frivolous. Frivolous? What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Mabel tells him, “Harebrained, empty-headed, shallow…” Mack holds up his hand. “I’ve heard enough.” He dunks a cigar in his coffee, sucks on it and continues, “All I have to say is this world of ours needs more comedy. There is far too much seriousness. It creeps into our pores and takes the life out of life. People need laughter. Laughs are nature’s magic…And, Miss Normand, I felt your magic the moment you landed on your ass.” “My pleasure,” she giggles. “Stick around,” Mack suggests, “I’ll work with you, show you the ropes. Standard contract, won’t pay half your rent, but it’s a doorway to untold riches…You thinking about changing your name?” “I was going to be Theda Bara, but some bitch got there before me.” Mack chuckles. “That’s rich. Now if you don’t mind there’s something I’d like to try out on you. It’s in the nature of a scientific experiment. Okay with you?” “I’m always willing to do my part for science.” Mack goes over to a small icebox, takes out a pie, crosses back to Mabel and pushes it in her face. He steps back, studies the gooey mess and mutters to himself…“Yeah, forget custard, blackberries look funnier.” “Funny,” Mabel calmly observes. “You know what’s even funnier?” She picks up Mack’s coffee, pours it down his pants. Mack laughs. “You and me, kid, we’ll knock ‘em dead!” CHAPTER TWO If Mack has to pitch his comedy discovery to a grim individual like Griffith he figures he should sell Mabel as a serious actress. David Wark Griffith’s office is on the ground floor of the studio. A large window looks out to a street. Occasional passers-by peer in to see Griffith working at his desk and he seems to enjoy this. He rises with his usual aristocratic bearing and gestures for Mack to have a seat. “Thanks, I’ll stand,” Mack says as he starts to pace the room. “See, what I came tell you about is I’ve made the discovery of a lifetime. Her name is Mabel Normand. She’s beautiful. Sexy. Serious. A very serious actress.” Unbeknownst to Griffith, Mack sees Mabel outside the window making goofy faces. Mack stifles a laugh and struggles to keep pitching. “This girl is a natural. Her expressions absorb you.” Outside, Mabel is bouncing back and forth on a pogo stick. Mack can’t help it, he breaks up! Griffith wants to know, “What’s so funny?” ”Nothing, nothing,” Mack says, struggling to compose himself. “It’s just that I believe in this sexy serious actress and I could never stand by and see you pass up this stroke of luck. So I think you should give the kid a chance. You won’t be sorry.” “Very well, Mack,” Griffith responds in his rigid Southern way. “if this sexy serious actress makes you so deliriously happy I’ll give her a try.” At the window, Mabel is “mooning” Mack who explodes in laughter and flees from the room. Griffith turns to the window and there is Mabel in a sudden dramatic pose. She gives him a little wave. He sort of waves back. There’s one final obstacle in Mabel’s path to stardom. At age seventeen she has to get permission from her mother to accept the Biograph contract. Mom has no misgivings. “Those show people seem like a rather peculiar bunch, but I know my little girl is a star and we do need new furniture for the living room.” The Abandoned Vixen of Babylon is Mabel’s first picture. She’s not the Vixen, she’s the Vixen’s loyal servant, Marushka. Relishing her big break into show business, Mabel skips into the dressing room to get into costume. A large, imperious woman is seated at the mirror applying her make-up. The woman turns to confront Mabel, saying, “Who are you and what are you doing in my dressing room?” “I’m Mabel Normand and we’re sharing.” “And I am a star and a star does not share!” “Oh, don’t be such a drip.” “Drip? Drip? Do you know who I am?” “Sure, a drip.” All six feet of the woman rises, her ample bosom on parade. “How dare you insult me,” she says, pointing to the door, “Begone with you!” “I’m not begoning anywhere, sister. Now move your fat ass so I can get into costume.” Mabel snatches her costume off a hook. The woman grabs Mabel, drags her across the floor, dumps her outside and bolts the door. Mabel yells, “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer!”