It was an easy matter in those days to get into the studio. No cards of announcement were needed--no office boy insulted you, no humiliation of waiting, as to-day. A ring of the bell and in you’d go, and Bobbie Harron would greet you if he chanced to be near by. Otherwise, any one of the actors would pass you the glad word. On an ordinary kitchen chair a bit to one side of the camera, Mr. Griffith usually sat when directing. The actors when not working lingered about, either standing or enjoying the few other kitchen chairs. During rehearsals actors sat all over the camera stand--it was at least six feet square--and as the actors were a rather chummy lot, the close and informal intimacy disturbed them not the least. A “scene” was set back center, just allowing passage room. What little light came through the few windows was soon blocked by dusty old scenery. On the side spaces of the room and on the small gallery above, the carpenters made scenery and the scene painters painted it--scenery, paint pots, and actors were all huddled together in one friendly chaos. We always had to be mindful of our costumes. To the smell of fresh paint and the noise of the carpenters’ hammers, we rehearsed our first crude little movies and in due time many an old literary classic. Rolls of old carpet and bundles of canvas had to be climbed over in wending one’s way about. To the right of the camera a stairway led to the basement where there were three small dressing-rooms; and no matter how many actors were working in a picture those three dark little closets had to take care of them all. The developing or “dark” room adjoined the last dressing-room, and all opened into a cavernous cellar where the stage properties were kept. Here at the foot of the stairs and always in every one’s way, the large wardrobe baskets would be deposited. And what a scramble for something that would half-way fit us when the costumes arrived! We ate our lunches in the dingy basement, usually seated on the wardrobe baskets. Squatted there, tailor-fashion, on their strong covers, we made out pretty well. On days when we had numbers of extra people, our lunch boy, little Bobbie Harron, would arrange boards on wooden horses, and spread a white cloth, banquet fashion. Especially effective this, when doing society drama, and there would be grand dames, financiers, and magnates, to grace the festive board.