It was my mustache that landed jobs for me. In those silent-film days it was the mark of a villain. When I realized they had me pegged as a foreign nobleman type I began to live the part, too. I bought a pair of white spats, an ascot tie and a walking stick.
I’m a Red-baiter; I’m a witch-hunter if the witches are Communists.
My success has been as full of luck as a crapshooter’s dream.