Exposing Andy Clyde (1932) 🇺🇸

Andy Clyde wants to get married!

Now don't all you fair, fat and forty girls start primping and setting your caps for him, because Andy doesn't believe in marrying a woman older than himself.

by Franc Dillon

Yes, you heard right the first time — "older than himself." Undoubtedly everyone outside the small circle of his friends and professional associates thinks Andy is somewhere near the age of Pop Martin, the character for which he is famous. A real "Specialist" type. Nothing could be further from the truth — by many, many years.

As a matter of fact — and there's a picture on this page to prove it — Andy is young and handsome, or handsomely young, if you prefer it that way. And. speaking of marriage, as we were above, it might not also be amiss to mention the fact that he has a lot of that commodity which it takes to keep the wolf away — money, if we must use the sordid word.

Now, Andy is pretty well known as an actor. Why is it that none of you fans ever had any idea of him except as an amusing, oldish character comedian? You know practically all there is to know about every actor and actress in Hollywood who means anything at all at the box office — always excepting Garbo, of course.

Andy, however, is perhaps the one example in Hollywood of an actor who has honestly and sincerely kept himself out of the limelight — again excepting Garbo. He has never had his private life publicized. In fact, he likes to be Pop Martin on the screen because his make-up allows him to have a private life, a luxury not sought after by many stars. In a profession dependent upon self-exploitation, Andy chooses to live quietly, almost obscurely.

No one, except his friends, ever recognizes Andy without his make-up. He can walk up and down Hollywood Boulevard, play golf at any country club, attend a premiere (which he does seldom), or dine at any popular eating place without being asked once for his autograph, although the thousands of fan letters he receives each month attest to his popularity on the screen.

An important New York critic was introduced to Andy one day in a cafe. The critic heard only the Sennett Studio part of the introduction.

He was polite but unimpressed. Finally, in an effort to appear sociable, he said: "You certainly have one funny fellow at your studio, and that's Pop Martin."

Intelligent, quiet, reserved almost to a point of shyness, Andy will talk about anything under the sun but himself. He has never appeared before the camera in any character except that of an old man. He has completely hidden his personal identity, satisfied to make his public happy, but at the same time lessening his chances for personal happiness.

"What girl in search of a husband would be attracted to an old bird like Pop?" he asks plaintively. "What chance have I to get a girl?"

It was in Rattray, Perthshire, Scotland, that Andy made his first appearance and it wouldn't be far wrong to say that he was born in a trunk.

John Clyde, Scotch actor and owner of the John Clyde Stock Company, was his father. Mrs. Clyde was the leading woman in the company.

There were six little Clydes in the family and as soon as Mrs. Clyde was able to leave the hospital after each visit of the stork, she returned to the footlights. The little Clydes went along. When a child was needed in the cast there was always a little Clyde the right age to fill the part. When the stock season closed the whole family toured the country — the Scotch Foys. The theater was home to the children; backstage their playground.

Like all Scotch children, Andy respected his father. He not only looked up to him as an actor and teacher, but he admired him as a man.

When he was eighteen years old something happened. Only an incident, but it was to Andy the most tragic thing that ever happened to him and influenced his whole life.

His father gave him his first important role in a play. For weeks he rehearsed, so that his father might be proud of him. Opening night came and Andy gave a performance that, for all his youth, promised much for the future. The audience took him to its heart. Every member of the company was proud of him. After the show they gathered round to congratulate him. He was bursting with pride but he kept looking around for his father. His was the commendation that Andy was waiting for.

Presently the elder Clyde joined the group. Andy looked up expectantly. So did the others.

"Report for rehearsal in the morning," his father said curtly. "I want to go over your lines with you." And turned away. That was all. Not one word of praise.

Andy reported for rehearsal the next morning, and the next, and the next. He didn't complain. He said nothing. But his spirit was broken and, discouraged, he left the company at the end of the run of that play and became a stock broker's clerk in Glasgow.

For two years Andy dealt with margins and ticker tape but his mind and heart were on the stage. When the longing to go back became too much for him he would remember his hurt and stick to his job. But he brooded and dreamed, and his dreams were always of the theatre.

Finally he went back to the stage, but not to his father's company. With a vaudeville act, he toured England and Scotland and later, came to America. For a time he played in vaudeville, in stock and in New York shows. Then he heard that his countryman, Harry Lauder, was putting on The Heatin' O' the Hoose with an all-Scotch cast, and he applied for a job.

"Where's yer accent?" Lauder asked Andy. '"I'm disappointed in ye, my lad. You don't talk like a Scot any more."

After Andy read the part for him, he said, "I'm a bit dubious about ye, but for your father's sake I'll gie ye a chance."

Following that engagement, which lasted fifteen weeks, Andy decided to try the movies. Before the talkies, it was no easy matter for an actor from the stage to get in, and Andy carried spears and played extra parts for three years before he got a real opportunity.

Then one day he was called, with other extras, to work in a Sennett comedy. The company was working on the docks at the harbor. After Andy had worked in one scene, he slipped behind a pile of lumber and changed his make-up. When the director called him for another scene, he walked on completely disguised.

"Andy!" called the director, with pardonable irritation. Extras are not supposed to keep directors waiting. "Where's Andy Clyde?" But he was amused when Andy said, "Here I am," and he recognized him.

All afternoon this went on and six times Andy appeared on the scene in as many different characters. That night the director called the incident to the attention of Mr. Sennett.

"Hmmm," hmmmmed Mr. Sennett, who never overlooks a good bet. "Let's sign up this one-man cast." So Andy got a contract.

For two years he has portrayed the character of Pop Martin. The huge walrus mustache that he wears is glued on, but his contract says he must grow his beard and that he may not shave. And that is how it happens that Andy is always seen hiding behind a so-called bush. Hiding behind his Pop Martin makeup and his reserve. A reserve acquired on his eighteenth birthday.

In his heart Andy knows that his father acted for the best. The harsh Scotch method hurt, but the motive was right. Andy has never forgotten it. No matter how short a scene, how trifling a detail, it must be perfect.

Well, that's Andy Clyde. The man who says, "What chance have I to get a girl?" What do you think? Would you like to have him as a boy friend?

Which Would You Marry?

At the right we present Andy Clyde as you know him on the screen. On the left we present Andy Clyde as he looks in private life. You'd never recognize him at a premiere — or even walking down Hollywood Boulevard. When it comes to seeking privacy, Andy Clyde and Garbo have much in common.

Collection: Modern Screen Magazine, November 1932