Movie making in Vicksburg 1916: Miss Eyton and the pool shark

Making movies in Mississippi has become commonplace, but it had to start somewhere, and that was in Vicksburg in 1916.

“The Crisis” was supposed to have been a Civil War story, a melodramatic chronicle of a girl torn between two lovers, one who wore gray and the other dressed in blue. The real soap opera was unfolding in the wings, though, as the movie was being filmed. It culminated with the leading lady leaving town with a local swain.

The Selig Polyscope Co., an early film producer, hoped the silent movie, based on a novel called “The Crisis” and set in St. Louis, would become a classic. It was produced entirely in Vicksburg with much of the action taking place at South Fort on the river, near the present bridges. Scenes were also filmed at the Old Court House, Cedar Grove and at the Hardaway-McCabe home, which stood where Carr Central apartments were later built.

The star of the show was Miss Bessie Eyton, a raven-haired beauty who was the idol of theater patrons. About 20 other actors and actresses accompanied her to Vicksburg, and about 500 extra roles were filled by members of the Mississippi National Guard along with the rank and file of the local citizenry.

One day Miss Eyton appeared on the set escorted by a Vicksburg man who was best known for his ability to shoot pool down at Jones’ Smoke House on Washington Street. He was an exceedingly handsome 21-year old.

Another young Vicksburger, Pvt. LeGrande “Doc” Capers, 16-years-old at the time, who had fibbed about his age to join the Guard, appeared in “The Crisis” as an extra. He told me in 1979 that Miss Eyton, who was thought to be in her 30s, looked much older and “was not nearly as pretty in person as she was in pictures.”

Her escort, however, whose name has not been preserved by historians, probably had a different idea. He met Miss Eyton quite literally by accident one afternoon when she went horseback riding. She rented a horse from Bazinsky’s Livery Stable at the corner of Walnut and China, telling the man in charge that she wanted a spirited animal.

When an automobile came down Washington Street, the horse showed more spirit than Miss Eyton had bargained for, and the damsel in distress was rescued by the Jones’ Smoke House pool shark.

The fortunate young man may have been having a good time, but the boys who filled roles as soldiers were not. Though by contract the movie company was to provide food and transportation for the men, who were camped on Rifle Range Road, they soon found themselves with rifles on their shoulders hiking all the way to Fort Garrott in the park. After a march on a hot summer day and a morning of charging enemy lines, their dinner consisted of a sandwich and a cup of coffee. The fare was poor, but the pay was worse—$1 per day. The only way to make more money was to play the part of a Yankee soldier, for no southern boy would don a blue uniform unless the price was right.

At one time, torrential rains flooded the encampment, and on another occasion, several men were painfully though not seriously injured when they stepped on explosives—about which they had been warned and which were clearly marked by red patches.

The producer had come to Vicksburg because he wanted realism, and Capers recalled that he sometimes got more than he bargained for as the troops got so caught up in the excitement that they clubbed a few of “the enemy” with their rifle butts.

At other times scenes had to be reshot when troops got the giggles and townspeople mingled with the soldiers and actors, got in the way of the cameras and laughed heartily at almost everything the director said. To them, the $75,000-budget movie was not serious business at all. On one occasion, to thwart public interference, a night bombardment scene was staged around midnight with filming from the top of The Valley building. Folks fled panic-stricken into the streets only to find out, to their relief, that it was the moviemakers.

Local citizens made a social occasion of the filming, entertaining members of the cast in their homes, and the Selig Company responded by staging a grand ball in the National Park Hotel.

It was a year before “The Crisis” was shown in Vicksburg, opening at The Alamo Theater on the corner of Washington and South streets, but it was a disappointment to local viewers. Numerous scenes had been cut, and those who had been extras couldn’t find themselves in the crowds.

Everybody went to see it anyway—or almost everybody. The young man who had rescued Miss Eyton wasn’t around. He had boarded the train with her when the filming was finished, and the two rode off into the sunset together. They later married and for several years, Vicksburgers would see him in an occasional walk-on bit part in movies.

Though the Selig Company soon went broke, and Vicksburgers weren’t happy with “The Crisis,” presumably Vicksburg’s prince charming and sweet Bessie Eyton lived happily ever after.

Gordon Cotton is the curator emeritus of the Old Court House Museum. He is the author of several books and is a renowned historian.