In 1939 he turned to films in earnest.

It was remembered but too well how the dragoons had stalked into the peasant's cottage, cursing and damning him, themselves, and each other at every second word, pushing from the ingle nook his grandmother of eighty, and thrusting their hands into the bosom of his daughter of sixteen; …

And she called me a chowder head! The boy's eyes flashed with anger. Mr. Mays held Elizabeth at arm's length. Is that true? Did you call your brother a chowder head?

Oh Scheisse!!