Henry B. Walthall - Much More than the "Little Colonel"

The image at the left shows Walthall before he performed in Birth of a Nation, the most (in)famous film he made with director D.W. Griffith.

Walthall started on the stage; when the "flickers" gained popularity, he had the then-typical stage actor's disdain for this low, cheap form of entertainment.

Eventually - like so many other stage performers - he was enticed to try his luck in film, joining Griffith's stable of actors and making his film debut in the short feature A Corner in Wheat, in 1909. He found role after role with Griffith; sometimes as a leading man, sometimes in a supporting role, sometimes as an extra. This was standard practice with all the actors in the Griffith stable, as a matter of fact.

Walthall, one of the first film stars, had an amazing ability NOT to overact for the camera, a common failing amongst the largely stage-trained actors of the day. Very few people realized the sensitivity of the camera lens, and they tried to play to the back row - using exaggerated gestures and facial expressions, which were laughable on screen. Griffith was adept in getting from his actors the sort of low-key mannerisms that this new medium demanded, and as with so many other actors who worked with him, he struck gold with Walthall.

From 1909, when he made his film debut, to 1915, when he left Griffith, Walthall made a startling number of films. Audiences demanded ever more of this new form of entertainment, and the cameras ground constantly to turn out picture after picture. Walthall's costars were a stupendously talented group: Lionel Barrymore, Mae Marsh, Blanche Sweet, Mary Pickford, Walter Miller, Bobby Harron, and the best female star Griffith ever had, Lillian Gish. Walthall was adept in any role he was given, from honorable gentleman to fallen idealist to bereaved father to weakling brother to murdering nephew. Some of his best work was showcased in such films as The Avenging Conscience, Death's Marathon, and The Burglar's Dilemma.

It was Birth of a Nation, of course, that would leave a lasting impression on moviegoers then and now, and despite the often repellent subject matter, Walthall's performance as Ben Cameron, the "Little Colonel" is hard to beat. The scene in the hospital, where Cameron is looking intensely at love interest Elsie Stoneman, has lost none of its heat in more than 90 years.

Lillian Gish, in her autobiography, only mentions Walthall a few times. She remembered that during the shooting of Home, Sweet Home, when she and Walthall were suspended by wires and suffering severe discomfort while Griffith and the cameraman argued over how to shoot the scene, Walthall didn't raise his voice or complain - "he simply fainted and hung there limply." She also states that Walthall had a drinking problem, and that while they were shooting Birth of a Nation, a bodyguard had to be hired to keep him sober and on the set on time. Could this be the reason why he left Griffith after this film?

Walthall remained a performer in constant demand in his post-Griffith period; one costar who achieved cinematic immortality was Lon Chaney. Year after year, the work came in, and Walthall took it. During this time, he and his first wife divorced, and he remarried. He and his second wife had a daughter, Patricia, Walthall's only child.

In 1926, he found himself working once again with his most famous leading lady, Lillian Gish, in The Scarlet Letter. Walthall played her brooding, intense husband, a role he would recreate in the 1934 talkie version, this time starring Colleen Moore.

By the time the talkies came out, Walthall was no longer a leading man. His fine, resonant, stage-trained voice allowed him to make the transition to sound film easily. He continued his film work in supporting parts, but he never stopped working. One of his last film roles showcased him with another silent film star, Ronald Colman, in A Tale of Two Cities (1935). Walthall played Dr. Manette, the unbalanced father of the heroine of the piece.

The following year, when shooting China Clipper (an early Humphrey Bogart film), Walthall collapsed on the set, dying a few days later. The cause of death was given as "influenza and a nervous condition". I have to wonder if his constant work was also a factor. He was 58 years old.

As a sad footnote, one of Walthall's costars from his Griffith days, Walter Miller, became a bit player in films as the 1930s wore on. Miller had a small role in China Clipper as well. Four years later, Miller himself would collapse on the set of another film - of a heart attack - and die later.

To see some of Walthall's talent, take a look at this video on YouTube.