Charles Delaney: A smiling, flying Irishman

Charles Delaney-Alice-White-Woolworth
Charles Delaney gets to know Alice White a little better in First National’s 1929 comedy with music “The Girl From Woolworth’s.”

Let’s wish a hearty 126th birthday today to Charles Delaney, a jaunty, handsome fellow from the East who topped out in leading-man roles as sound was taking hold in Hollywood.

Delaney’s career mirrored that of a better-known, East Coast-bred Charles – Charles Farrell — in that they were both late bloomers to top parts and well-known for being paired with cute-as-a-button female stars.

Farrell (who would have turned 118 today, by the way) was, of course, the longtime screen partner of Janet Gaynor. In Delaney’s case, however, he was widely associated with two ladies: Sally O’Neil and Alice White.

Delaney got his big break in films opposite O’Neil in Frisco Sally Levy (1927), was reteamed by MGM with her in The Lovelorn (1927) and was heard as well as seen with Sally in the Tiffany musical romance Kathleen Mavourneen (1930). At First National, he played White’s sweetie thrice — in the synchronized silent Show Girl (1928) and two 1929 talkies, Broadway Babies and The Girl From Woolworth’s.

Delaney served his female contemporaries well, as his open-faced, distinctly Irish look and energy appealed to viewers without being a distraction. In a 1928 review of Universal’s Home, James, in which Delaney appeared with Laura La Plante, New York Daily News critic Irene Thirer praised him as “our idea of a leading man, who is just handsome enough and yet not too handsome. His pleasing appearance and flashing smile ought to net him more good roles.”

They did, although Delaney’s work at the peak of his career isn’t that easy to find. In Broadway Babies, Delaney plays a brash stage manager whose romance with singer-dancer White is imperiled by the presence of Fred Kohler’s “importer” from Detroit. Delaney spends much time stewing, but Alice comes around. There are three songs in this musical comedy, but Charlie sings none.

In Kathleen Mavourneen, a contemporary story inspired by the long-running play by Irish writer Dion Boucicault, Delaney is a singing plumber named Terry. He is in love with O’Neil’s Kathleen, who is just off the boat and living in an Irish neighborhood of NYC. The local ward boss (Robert Elliott) is the younger man’s competition for the heroine’s hand, but the plumber wins out over the pol. The two leads perform a pair of James Brockman compositions, “Kathleen” and “Mother My Own”; she may or may not be dubbed, but his voice sounds as if it was.

Kathleen Mavourneen was no help to Delaney’s career, or anyone else’s. Filmed in the summer of 1929, it sat on the shelf until the middle of 1930, possibly because of instability in the management of the Tiffany studio. Thus considered creaky by the time it could be seen, the picture was dismissed by The Film Daily as “a week number plugging the Irish angle,” while Photoplay readers were advised to “save your money.”

(For the curious, Broadway Babies occasionally airs on TCM and is on a Warner Archive DVD, and Kathleen Mavourneen is in the public domain and is easy to access.)

Charles Edward Delaney was born on August 9, 1892 to a large New York City clan; his coachman father and housekeeper mother, both born in Ireland, produced six children on U.S. soil. According to accounts of Delaney’s life written when he was a film actor, he left his native country during World War I to serve in the Canadian flying corps. While the claim of Canadian duty might be legitimate, we also know that a Charles Edward Delaney was posted at the Bay Shore U.S. Naval Air Station on Long Island in 1917.

Charles-Delaney-young
A young Charles Delaney.

In any case, Delaney became known as a stunt flier after the war, and that skill is what brought him to Hollywood. He was credited for flying stunts in as many as 200 movies (a likely exaggeration). He also was said to have performed in vaudeville in a mind-reading act but that his stage career ended when he was injured in an airborne publicity stunt. His acting credits date from 1922.

If there was any doubt over Delaney’s two-fisted nature, it would have been countered by a tussle with Jack Kearns, the former manager of champion boxer Jack Dempsey, after a golf outing at the El Rancho Country Club in July 1929. Kearns emerged with two black eyes and Delaney sustained a broken nose following a disagreement with Delaney over their scores. “We made up and will be good friends again, but I don’t think we’ll play golf together,” Delaney wisely told a Los Angeles Times scribe.

Delaney’s reputation as an action man widened the scope of his parts even as the prestige of his projects began to decline. In 1931, Delaney – now pushing 40 — was cast in two “Thrill-O-Dramas” for the small-time Sono Art-World Wide Company. In Air Police, he was a federal law enforcement pilot battling illegal-immigrant smuggling with Kenneth Harlan, and Hell-Bent for Frisco (now lost) saw him playing a prizefighter.

With the majors, Delaney had played opposite canines as well as humans – with Bonaparte “The New Dog Star” in MGM’s The Thirteenth Hour (a 1927 Old Dark House thriller with Lionel Barrymore) and the great Rin-Tin-Tin in The Man Hunter (Warner Bros., 1930). Now, on the way down, he was a crusading journalist who was Captured in Chinatown (1936), a Consolidated Pictures Corporation production with “Tarzan the Police Dog” and the much prettier Marion Shilling.

Delaney married circa 1920 and stayed such, living childless in Los Angeles. (There was a curious 1926 newspaper report about his saving his wife in a suicide attempt when he discovered the gas from his stove being turned on.) Until his death on August 31, 1959, he continued to play small roles, credited and not, in films and television, with many Westerns included.

When he left us, his final role — billed seventh in the teen exploitation drama The Beatniks (1959) — was new on display in theaters. With direction, script and songs by legendary voice actor Paul Frees, that undistinguished film gives Delaney quite a bit to do as a fatherly talent agent who (despite the bad influence of gang punk Peter Breck) tries to turn “singing sensation” Tony Travis into a star.

There are worse ways for an actor to go out.

Charles-Delaney-and-Peter-Breck
In his film finale, “The Beatniks,” Charles Delaney stares down gang creep Peter Breck.

SOURCES

Home James, Comedy at Hip, Has Laura La Plante as Star,” New York Daily News, September 11, 1928.

“Charles Delaney Affords Story for Movie Thriller,” Los Angeles Times, April 24, 1927.

Kathleen Mavourneen,” The Film Daily, July 20, 1930.

“Brief Reviews of Current Pictures,” Photoplay, October 1930.

“Kearns Makes Ring of Nineteenth Hole,” Los Angeles Times, July 9, 1929.

“Stunt Flier Decries Movie Perils,” New York Daily News, March 22, 1931.

“Answers to Movie Fans,” Lincoln (Nebraska) Star, January 15, 1928.

“Actor Rescues His Wife From Death by Gas,” Los Angeles Times, September 14, 1926.

“Charles Delaney” (obituary), Los Angeles Times, September 2, 1959.

Ancestry.com

Author: bradleyedwinm

My name is Edwin M. Bradley … but please call me Ed. I am an editor of a university historical journal and film curator at an art museum in Michigan. I was a daily newspaper movie reviewer for 20 years. I have authored three books about early film history, with emphases on pre-1940 musicals and the transition to sound. (A fourth tome is coming soon.) My "Unsung Hollywood Musicals of the Golden Era, 1929-39" was named by Huffington Post and Classic Images magazine as among 2016's best new movie-related books.

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