Girl Pictures Bill Hart as 'Tightwad' -- March 7, 2023

Birmingham Age-Herald, 31-March-1923

Some time after western star William S Hart threw his pregnant wife out of the house, a young woman said that he was the father of her five-year-old son. Hart denied it, but wound up paying child support. I noticed that 100 years ago this month, magazines and newspapers did not say much about his movies. His movies were declining in popularity, but his scandals may have had something to do with it.

Washington Evening Star, 30-March-1923

GIRL PICTURES

BILL HART AS

‘TIGHTWAD’

Miss MacCaulley Declares Film

Idol Is a Dr. Jekyll and

Mr. Hyde.

A new light is thrown today on the makeup of "two-gun" Bill Hart, screen idol of a million feminine movie fans.

This heroic defender of women in the land of the films is portrayed by Miss Elizabeth MacCauley, Brookline woman who charges him with being the father of her five year-old child, as a veritable Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

This chivalric Jekyll of the silver screen we always picture with two guns spitting fire as he rides a spotted pinto through a rain of bullets to the rescue of feminine virtue in distress, and as willing to give fame and fortune, especially fortune, to save the maidens of the screen, is pictured today as a "nickel nurser," a "tightwad."

Instead of willingly giving up all that men hold dear for the sake of the woman who is in distress, this Mr. Hyde in real life is pictured by Miss MacCauley as being the stingiest man in the world -- even stingier than the Scotchman who asked for his match back when he discovered that the maid to whom he had given it could not find his cigarette.

Here is her version:

By HAROLD R. HALL,

BOSTON, March 30. -- I believe Bill Hart loves a nickel more than any person I ever met," said Miss MacCaulley. "Without a doubt he is one of the stingiest men in the world. A nickel means a lot to that man, and he is very careful in his distribution of them.

"When I met Bill in Los Angeles I had no idea as to how much money he was making. I knew, of course, that he was one of the heroes of the screen but knowing nothing then of the salaries paid these stars I had no idea what he was being paid. In fact, I had not given it a thought.

Afraid of Being Cheated.

"I had not known him long when I made up my mind that he was not getting very much money for his work. Of course, I knew he had a lovely apartment, where he and his sister lived, but there are many people who have nice homes and little money.

"You see, he used to take me out to dinner, and there I had a chance to observe him closely on financial matters. The outstanding characteristic of Bill was his regard for money. He would get his check from the waiter and carefully scrutinize every item on it and figure it out himself before he would pay the bill. Sometimes he would go over the figures several times. He apparently did not want to pay a cent more than the actual bill came to. He was not going to be cheated by any waiter.

Worried About 30 Cents.

"I remember one night in particular when we were at a restaurant for dinner. Bill received his check from the waiter and after figuring it out was preparing to pay the bill. Suddenly he started fishing through his pockets frantically.

"‘Someone has either cheated me somewhere or else someone has taken some money from my pockets,’ he shouted to me. You would have thought I was deaf the way he shouted it. Of course, I thought he must have lost a large sum from the way he was acting. I was greatly concerned over it and expressed my sympathy.

"Finally he gave up the search and paid his bill. We left the restaurant and went back to Bill’s apartment at the Rex Arms. Bill’s entire evening was spoiled. The money was worrying him to death. He could think of nothing else. He would speak of nothing else.

"At last I ventured to inquire how much was lost. Imagine my surprise when he told me the sum was slightly more than thirty cents. All that noise and fuss over that sum, can you imagine it. I did a deal of thinking right then.

Just Plain Stingy.

"The next night I met Bill he was all smiles. I asked what the good news was and he told me with a really joyful smile that he had found the money he thought he had lost. He said he found it scattered through several pockets. He was happy again after finding his thirty cents.

"That and the careful way he paid all bills together with his general penuriousness gave me the impression that Bill was a hard working and greatly underpaid actor who was struggling along trying to keen up appearances. I could not believe that a man who nursed his nickels as he did could have much wealth. Now I see that he was just plain stingy.

Sometimes Real Spender.

"After seeing him spending so carefully I do not believe I would have allowed him to spend freely, for I would have thought he could not afford it.

"But the peculiar thing about it is that in some places, where it becomes well known in public, Bill is a real spender. I guess that is done so his reputation will be maintained. I know of several cases in which he has befriended certain people -- not women -- which really amazes me. Of course, he received much credit for it, and possibly charges that up as advertising. He probably knows that what he spends on the women will not bring him much added glory.

Child’s Support Evaded.

"He showed the same penurious streak in settling with me for our son. Imagine him, the defender of women as he loves to be pictured, haggling over a few paltry dollars which are needed for the support of his own son. It hurt Bill Hart to give up $50 a month to help me give his son, which he has repudiated, the food to sustain life.

"He evaded the payment of the hospital bills. He evaded the payment of the clothing bills after the child was born. He evaded all the expense. I had to bear it. He kept his nickels in his pocket, while I worried myself gray trying to keep our boy as he should be kept.

"Oh, Bill Hart is a wonderful man. He loves two things -- BlLL HART AND BILL HART'S MONEY."

Tells of Love for Hart

In Letters After He

Refused to See Her

(Copyrighted, 1923, by the Los Angeles Examiner. Reproduction in whole or part la prohibited.)

LOS ANGELES, Cal., March 30. -- Elizabeth MacCauley, the Boston school teacher, submitted to District Attorney Woolwine, of Los Angeles, copies of certain letters she says she wrote to William S. "Bill" Hart, when she told the District Attorney that Hart was the father of her son born out of wedlock.

Herewith are extracts from the letters:
Mailed on the Train in Nevada or Utah.

Sunday, Feb. 18, 1917.

Perhaps one of the greatest surprises of my Los Angeles sojourn was that I should not see you again. A bigger surprise is the necessary subject of this letter. Then two weeks went by. I certainly did not understand. Then your note about going to the cattle country was some comfort, but more suspense. Then began strange days for me.

At 5:30 I phoned you. Your sister was so cheerful and sweet over the phone. She proved as good as a tonic to me, and I became quite joyous and light-hearted. But when she said how extra busy and bothered you had been over your work of late. I felt so sorry I begged her not to mention me to you. I again felt, it can wait until tomorrow.

I did so enjoy my talk with her that last afternoon. She was so dear and lovable. I am glad you have each other. I would I had not been there since the first evening I met you (the rest seemed quite apart). Yet I wished you had come in then even though what I had to tell you seemed to require my putting my arm around your neck and whispering in your ear with nobody near. Such was not for me. And as you did not call me up later I had to come away and write you.

Wondered at Silences.

Among the many things I thought and thought, I wonder if it could be that you knew what had happened to me even before I did myself and simply added that to the many other silences. Surely not!

Then I wondered if I might wait until the next time, as it might be some temporary accident due to unusual conditions to your unusual acts. Anyhow, you can see how relieved I might have been to see you and ask you things.

I have also tried to decide whether I ought to wait longer or write now. But it seems to me you would feel it your right to know. I don’t want you to blame me for withholding it from you. Needless to remark, I feel very strange and at sea, and to think that by merest chance I passed Clune’s Broadway and saw your play was on. But I had not time to go in. I may see it in the East, but I did see the splendid photograph of you over the left door -- it seemed to me the best yet. Better than the other. Do send me one when you can, please.

I cannot understand your reason but I have a long way to go. Write me what comes to your mind and heart after reading this. I am sure your letter will come if directed to me at home (uncertain forwarding is now over, thank Goodness).

Bye, bye.
B Y.

WRITTEN FROM BOSTON,
April 9. 1917.

My Dear Bill:

I cannot understand your reason for not having answered my letter written to you on the train when I was obliged to leave without seeing you. It is harder to write what has followed, but such an expert as you, I guess, can imagine somewhat of the distress I have gone through in mind, body and state.

I think it most natural to have expected a word of comfort from you. I suppose I imagined you were so wonderful you would protect me whether or not, and I couldn’t really believe for weeks that anything had happened. "Life" is certainly a strange and wonderful thing; and to me, in spite of conditions, amazingly incomprehensible.

The thought of being obliged to risk my life for (or because of) a man like you is awful to contemplate.

I cannot bear to condemn you even in my thoughts for the feelings you have aroused in me before it is proved that there was any awful result. • • • I don’t blame you that you didn’t feel as I did when I wrote you that for such things are hardly of our making, but I do blame you after what followed • • •.

I hate to think of the vast army of feminine adorers, which I call it, that so bore you and yet make easy victims for your plentiful diversion • • *. I bet the whole gang put together are not as crazy about you as I am.

"Scared," She Writes.

At this distance from you I can think and realize some very vivid little ironies: but if you were here (and how I wish you were), I should only feel -- no, I think I should resist you valiantly and make up if too late for my weaknesses • • • I am scared to death, petrified, and the end is not yet. If only I could speak, tell people or explain the truth.

Nothing is more worthy than this: It is a thing too tremendous to be entered into so casually; and then to think of ignoring it, or going partners in the game, as you have.