A tiny percentage of those so signed arrive in Hollywood, and of these one in a thousand makes good. Often they seek out your authors and breathlessly spill the info that it has come--the chance for a screen test! What to do? We ask whether the test is to be shot here or on the Coast. Mostly likely, it's in the New York studios. We caution, "Don't take it; hold out for a Coast test." Few movie contracts have resulted from tests in local offices here. The facilities and abilities available are undergrade. The best points are not brought out. There are no directors here, so any talent that does lurk is often kicked around. But when a studio has enough faith to ship one to the Coast for the test, chances of a film break-through are considerably higher. First, the studio must pay a salary during the testing period, on top of round-trip, first-class fare. With that invested, efforts will be made to bring out assets. And, should the first test fizzle, others will be given. Another factor against Eastern tests is that the try-out is viewed by a tough jury, 3,000 miles away--hard strangers predisposed to turn thick thumbs down. In addition to meaning little, these Eastern screen tests are a walkaway for wise wolves, most of whom manage to get close to casting agents of studios. The procedure is to introduce the subject to the scout and get his promise to consider her for a test. Even if he eventually turns her down, the squab is on a string for weeks and has to be nice to her "benefactor." If she ever gets the test, she's hooked for at least three months, while the film is shipped to the Coast to await the verdict of producers and directors. Actually, it's not necessary to know anyone to get consideration from the talent scouts. They're always looking for new faces. That's their business. Just barge in. (See page 301 for list of casting agents.) But, suppose the candidate is lucky enough to run the gauntlet and find herself signed to the usual standard contract, which calls for $125 per week the first six months and options for seven years thereafter, at a slowly rising scale. Should she take it? We say, unless she wants the trip and a six-month paid vacation--no. She wants to be a dramatic actress. The odds against her making any talking screen role are about one in 500. If her heart breaks easily, movies will do it. We tell her when she steps off the Super-Chief, with high hopes and enthusiasm, she will be plugged, for publicity, as a new star. A battery of photogs will greet her at Union Station. That afternoon she will get phone calls from every chaser in town, who will have learned everything about her by the grapevine from their opposite numbers in New York, who kissed her good-bye.