University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses

A history of the screen writers' guild (1920-1942): the writers' quest for a freely negotiated basic agreement

(USC Thesis Other)

A history of the screen writers' guild (1920-1942): the writers' quest for a freely negotiated basic agreement

PDF

Download a page range

Download transcript

Copy asset link

Request this asset

Transcript (if available)

Content INFORMATION TO USERS This material was produced from a microfilm copy of the original document. While the most advanced technological means to photograph and reproduce this document have been used, the quality is heavily dependent upon the quality of the original submitted. The following explanation of techniques is provided to help you understand markings or patterns which may appear on this reproduction. 1.The sign or "target" for pages apparently lacking from the document photographed is "Missing Page(s)". If it was possible to obtain the missing page(s) or section, they are spliced into the film along with adjacent pages. This may have necessitated cutting thru an image and duplicating adjacent pages to insure you complete continuity. 2. When an image on the film is obliterated with a large round black mark, it is an indication that the photographer suspected that the copy may have moved during exposure and thus cause a blurred image. You will find a good image of the page in the adjacent frame. 3. When a map, drawing or chart, etc., was part of the material being photographed the photographer followed a definite method in "sectioning" the material. It is customary to begin photoing at the upper left hand corner of a large sheet and to continue photoing from left to right in equal sections with a small overlap. If necessary, sectioning is continued again — beginning below the first row and continuing on until complete. 4. The majority of users indicate that the textual content is of greatest value, however, a somewhat higher quality reproduction could be made from "photographs" if essential to the understanding of the dissertation. Silver prints of "photographs" may be ordered at additional charge by writing the Order Department, giving the catalog number, title, author and specific pages you wish reproduced. 5. PLEASE NOTE: Some pages may have indistinct print. Filmed as received. Xerox University Microfilms 300 North Zoeb Road Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106 I 74-91+8 WHEATON, Christopher Dudley, 1944- A HISTORY OF THE SCREEN WRITERS' GUILD (1920- 1942): THE WRITERS' QUEST FOR A FREELY NEGOTIATED BASIC AGREEMENT. University of Southern California, Ph.D., 1974 Mass Communications I University Microfilms, A XEROX Company, Ann Arbor, Michigan © Copyright, August, 1973 Christopher Dudley Wheaton THIS DISSERTATION HAS BEEN MICROFILMED EXACTLY AS RECEIVED. A HISTORY OF THE SCREEN WRITERS' GUILD (1920-1942): THE WRITERS' QUEST FOR A FREELY NEGOTIATED BASIC AGREEMENT by Christopher Dudley Wheaton A Dissertation Presented to the FACULTY OF THE GRADUATE SCHOOL UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY (Communications-Cinema) January 1974 UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA THE GRADUATE SCHOOL UNIVERSITY PARK LOS ANGELES. CALIFORNIA 90007 This dissertation, written by Christopher Dudley Wheaton under the direction of A.Dissertation Com mittee, and approved by all its members, has been presented to and accepted by The Graduate School, in partial fulfillment of requirements of the degree of DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY Dean DISSERTATIO: IOMMITTEE Chairman TABLE OF CONTENTS Chapter I. THE ORIGINS OF THE GUILD 1 Introduction The Authors' League of America, Inc. II. THE GUILD STRUCTURE OF THE AUTHORS' LEAGUE 10 III. THE SCREEN WRITERS' GUILD OF THE AUTHORS' LEAGUE OF AMERICA 20 IV. THE SCREEN WRITERS' GUILD ENTERS THE TALKIE ERA 40 V. THE SCREEN WRITERS' GUILD AND THE ACADEMY 53 VI. THE SCREEN WRITERS' GUILD UNDER THE NATIONAL INDUSTRIAL RECOVERY ACT 86 VII. THE DEATH OF THE SCREEN WRITERS' GUILD 98 VIII. THE GUILD, THE SCREEN PLAYWRIGHTS, AND THE N.L.R.B. ..128 BIBLIOGRAPHY 177 APPENDIX 180 Writer-Producer Code of Practice Guild Analysis of Writer-Producer Contract ii CHAPTER I THE ORIGINS OF THE GUILD Introduction The progress of a war is like the growth of the Lily of the Valley: from a root of conflict to a seedling of battle to a triumphant flower of peace. For the winner, a war is like the flowering lily showing both form and purpose, while the vanquished can only settle for hopes of next spring. Perhaps this is why it is said that histories are written by the victorious. The history of the Screen Writers' Guild from 1920 to 1942 is in many ways no more than an account of the battle between the screen- a writers of Hollywood and their employers, the Hollywood movie producers, for a freely negotiated contract establishing minimum standards of treatment and payment for screenwriters. Formed in 1920, the Screen Writers' Guild acheived its first bloom in 1942 when the writers of Hollywood at last signed a minimum standard contract with the major film production companies. After 1942, with the Screen Writers' Guild firm ly established as the sole bargaining agent for the screenwriting pro fession in Hollywood, the foundation for a modern era of contract nego tiations was laid and the Guild's dealings with producers were of a less turbulent nature. Subsequent blooms were more bountiful but sig nificantly less prepossessing. This account begins before the seed of 1 the Screen Writers' Guild was even planted. The Screen Writers' Guild is a labor organization composed of people who by and large consider themselves artists: members of the movie industry who are or have been involved in the writing of screen plays for the movies. It is currently a part of the Writers' Guild of America which represents writers in nearly all forms of modern communi cation media, but most particularly in the film, radio, and television industries. The history of the Screen Writers' Guild is inextricably tied not only to the history of the development of the motion picture industry, but also to the history of labor unionism in America. The Screen Writers' Guild is dedicated to the protection of the rights of the screenwriters who are its members. In many cases, a more important function has been to determine that the writers had any rights at all to protect. Leo Rosten quotes an unidentified scenarist about the Guild's policies: "To keep writers from being pushed around. This is a fight for self-respect.But even before there were screenplays, there were still writers who felt that they were being victimized by motion picture producers. These authors knew already that they had rights for they were novelists, dramatists, and short story writers who were each more or less aware of the privileges of the legal right of copyright. Acknowledged artists, these authors wrote speculatively and sold their products on an open market to publishers, stage producers, \eo C. Rosten, Hollywood: The Movie Colony, The Movie Makers (New York: Arno Press and the New York Times, 1970), p. 176. and magazines, yet various injustices not covered by copyright (notably in the new medium of film) prompted some of them to band together in a protective unit better to protect the authors' general welfare. This organization was known then, and is known today, as the Authors' League of America. It might be considered the father of the Screen Writers' Guild; its structure and aims influenced the early organization of the Screen Writers' Guild to a high degree. The Authors' League of America, Inc. Soon after the passage in Congress of the Copyright Bill of 1909, a group of prominent authors joined together partly in reaction to what they felt was an encroachment on their rights as authors^ and partly through an intangible feeling of social responsibility—that someone ought to be able to lay claim as spokesman for authors as a whole. After an initial meeting in New York at the home of Arthur Train on December 27, 1911, the constitution and by-laws of the organization were adopted on December 13, 1912, the day after the Authors' League of America filed its papers of incorporation with the State of New York. The membership of the League had grown to 350 by the time the League held its first annual meeting on April 8, 1913.^ At the meeting in New ^The decision by the U.S. Courts in the case of Dam v. Kirke La Shelle Company concerning assignment of rights to literature and the copyright process was the immediate occasion for the League's birth. Authors' League Bulletin, XXII, No. 10 (1938), p. 6. ^Authors' League Bulletin, XXII, No. 4 (1938), pp. 6-7. 4 York, Winston Churchill, the noted American novelist and author of Richard Carvel (1899) and The Crisis (1901),^ was elected as President. Theodore Roosevelt, former President of the United States and author of many naturalistic novels, accepted the position of Vice-president, while Ellis Parker Butler, a widely known literary humorist, filled the position of Secretary-Treasurer. The need that authors felt for such an organization becomes obvious when it is noted that the membership in the League had grown from 350 to 850 in the fifteen months after its inception.5 Soon, an arbitration committee was set up in conjunction with the Society of American Dramatists and Composers to decide cases of alleged plagiarism out of court. The committee was not always success ful, but it did provide a quicker method of abjudicating cases where the issues were relatively clear and both plaintiff and defendant recognized one or the other organization. There were a dozen such cases in 1915, for instance.® The arbitration committee served as a model later for a comparable committee in the Screen Writers' Guild. Beyond simple plagiarism, the many problems of copyright provided the most pressing issues for the newly formed Authors' League. The mem 4 "In 1924...the readers of Literary Digest International Book Review...named [him] fourth in a list of the ten * greatest' writers appearing after 1900." Twentieth Century Authors, ed. by Stanley J. Kunitz and Howard Haycraft (New York: H.W. Wilson Co., 1942), p. 282. ^New York Times, March 10, 1914, p. 8. 6 New York Times, May 12, 1915, p. 8. bers in general thought the 1909 Copyright Bill insufficiently protected the rights of authors and wanted the United States to join the Inter national Copyright League, which would automatically secure "worldwide copyright protection for any matter copyrighted in America."' 7 Typically, the League formed a committee to work for such an adequate protective law. 8 Atypically, the League Executive Council on May 19, 1916, unani mously recommended to the general membership that the Authors' League of America affiliate with the American Federation of Labor (AF of L), the largest labor union in the United States, just as the Actors' Equity Association had voted earlier to submit a similar proposal to its mem bership. Equity, the stage actors' union, soon accepted the proposal to join its interests with the power of the growing union led by Samuel Gompers. Consideration of this affiliation provided the most important< issue the Authors' League had yet to face. If the Authors' League joined the AF of L, it might have instantaneously gained a power and influence sufficient to gain its immediate ends. The Committee on Affiliation with the American Federation of la bor, chaired by the dramatist and scenario writer, Thompson Buchanan, suggested the foremost problem affiliation would solve for the members of the Authors' League would be that created by the motion picture in dustry: "...conditions in the motion picture industry are more unsatis- , ^New York Times, July 16, 1916, I, p. 7. 8 New York Times, April 28, 1916, p. 17. 6 factory than in any other field in which an author is active. The au- j thor is practically at the mercy of irresponsible and diabolical produ- i Q cers. Complaints of underpayment, tardy return of manuscripts, vague; contracts, theft of uncopyrighted stories submitted for approval, and stories mangled in the hands of incompetant scenario writers were alto gether too common in an industry just then being established. Other problems to which answers could be found when the League gained the support of the 2,500,000 workers of the AF of L included help in nego tiations for standard contracts in the publishing and theatrical busi nesses, additional support in the League's continuing pressure to secure a universal copyright law, and help in generally establishing more fully the rights and privileges of authors. As soon as the Council's recommendation was announced, opposition began to form against the proposal and a pronounced polarization within the Authors' League began to develop on the question. For this reason,: the Council wisely decided to set the date of the referendum concerning affiliation with the AF of L six months off, so as to give the Leaguers members time to formulate their opinions in the light of discussion. The reasons against affiliation given over the next few months in letters and interviews published in the New York Times are represent ative of the opinions of many of the members of the League and are also the attitudes of many screenwriters in later years--a continual obstacle ^New York Times, July 16, 1916, I, p. 7. 7 for the Screen Writers' Guild to overcome. Concern was shown by some members for the forceful methods of power manipulation (strikes) re sorted to by labor unions,^ and, at the same time, the more pragmatic pointed to the absurdity of an authors' strike (Who would they strike against?). Moreover, it was said that while labor unions were necessary for the "little man" in industry, authors had access to routes of com munication which allowed them to speak out for themselves and to air their grievances.^ Indeed, one of the principal reasons for the for mation of the Authors' League of America was to provide such a route. Another argument cited the "loss of dignity" which such a move would incur, equating authors with mere laborers.^ 2 Hamlin Garlin's response is representative of the peak of emo tionalism which the issue stirred. A letter published in the Authors' League Bulletin says in part, ...I cannot see in what way a union tag will compensate me for the loss in self-respect I should sustain for placing myself on a level with that class of fat, slimy-tongued spouters, whose incomes are squeezed from the gullible 'horny-handed son' by virtue of promises which only sometimes materializeJ3 A telling argument against any connection between the American Federation of Labor and the Authors' League was delivered through a 1°New York Times, July 15, 1916, p. 4. ^Ibid. ^ 2 New York Times, July 14, 1916, p. 11. l ^Authors' League Bulletin, IV, No. 5 (1916), p. 7. 8 headlined letter to the editor of the New York Times by George Haven Putnam, Chairman of the Copyright Committee of the Authors' League of America. In the letter, Putnam objected strongly to the idea of re sorting to force in an issue which could be settled by a meeting of minds through negotiation. Saving the best argument in this letter until last, he then pointed out that the reason the United States was not currently a member of the Berne Convention—the agreement for inter national copyright protection—was that the American labor lobbies op posed American membership in the convention. It is the policy of the Federation of Labor that each union should work in behalf of any undertaking that the other unions have in train, and it was in this way that when the American typographical unions took the position that the United States must accept not a worldwide but a restricted copyright, with conditions which were connected with the copyright law of no other country, they were able, through the cooperation of the affiliated unions, to bring sufficient pressure to bear upon Congress to secure the acceptance of its views against the con tentions submitted on behalf of the authors, artists, composers, and publishers. Louis Sherwin ably answered this argument by pointing out that, since authors were outside the union system at the time, the American Federation of Labor simply represented its own members, but if there were an affiliation, then the labor pressure would represent both sides equally and be offset entirely. The decision to join the convention could then be made on the obvious merits of the case J® But the Times ^New York Times, July 21, 1916, p. 8. ^New York Times, July 23, 1916, VII, p. 2. did not give the same prominent display to Sherwin's letter as it did 1 to Putnam's and the trend in letters published from that time was more ' against affiliation than for it. Eventually, the Times itself came out• against affiliation in a rhetorical editorial J 6 On October 6, 1916, five months after the Executive Council of the Authors' League of America first proposed affiliation with the American Federation of Labor, the Times reported that the proposal was to be dropped from consideration by the membership of the League because the question "is sufficient to impair the harmony of the organization and [the members] are, therefore anxious to see the whole matter dropped."^ Thus ended, for a time, a potential for power which might ! have changed significantly the relation between writers and the movie industry. Not for twenty years were writers in a position in which they could possibly lay claim to such influence and power again. Instead of aligning themselves with an already emerging power, the authors chose to develop the power themselves within the League. The first step in that development was the concept of specialized guilds within the League representing the various professional interests of the writers. The first such guild was the Dramatists' Guild. ^New York Times, September 23, 1916, p. 6. ^New York Times, October 6, 1916, p. 10. CHAPTER II THE GUILD STRUCTURE OF THE AUTHORS' LEAGUE If the Authors' League is considered the father of the Screen Writers' Guild, then the Dramatists' Guild must be its big brother. It was begun in 1919 during the turmoil off a major strike of actors, stage hands, and musicians which closed nearly every stage production in both New York and Chicago. Joined under the banner of the American Federa tion of Labor, the unity of the labor movement was made evident to the stage production managers in New York, but, with most plays closed, the: playwrights were among the heaviest losers. On August 19, 1919, thir teen of Broadway's best known dramatists J after failing in their at tempts to negotiate a compromise between the actors and their producing managers and at the instigation of Eugene Walter and Avery Hopwood, formed an organization to be known as the Stage Writers' Protective Association. Shortly thereafter, Channing Pollock urged this group of 1 writers to merge with the Authors' League for additional support against the managers. The Dramatists' Guild of the Authors' League of America was formed with this group on August 25, with 112 members, 32 of whom were new to the League. Within two weeks, the strike was ended ^Eugene Walter, Avery Hopwood, Owen Davis, Gene Buck, Roi Cooper Megrue, Rupert Hughes, May Tully, Eugene Presbrey, Earl Carroll, Augus tus Thomas, Leroy Scott, Otto Harbach, and Silvio Hein. 10 and stage production resumed under a plan proposed by the Dramatists' i Committee on Mediation.2 This remains one of the more effective mea sures in the anna'^ of the Authors' League. Almost immediately after the formation of the Guild and the re- i sumption of stage production, further negotiations were opened with the producing managers. What the playwrights were most concerned with in these negotiations was the development of a contract with the producing managers which would stipulate minimum standards of treatment and com- : pensation for playwrights. On December 11, 1919, such a standard con tract was approved by the Producing Managers' Association.^ Again, as with the Authors' League Conciliation Committee, this contract was to serve as a model towards which the members of the Screen Writers' Guild ; aspired. The Standard Contract of 1920, as it is now known to the Guild, provided one major benefit to all playwrights: an agreement concerning : the proper disposition of movie rights. In as much as dramatists were almost as interested in movie rights as screen writers, this was a major step in recognizing authors' rights. The unrest among the playwrights was caused, for the most part, by the manner in which producers had been disposing of motion picture rights. Tales were rife of playwrights who had received but a tithe of the money which should have been theirs, and ^Authors' League Bulletin, VII, No. 6 (1919), pp. 3-4; and New York Times, August 21, 1919, p. 1; August 22, 1919, p. 8. %ew York Times, December 28, 1919, VIII, p. 2. 12 while there was possibly considerable exaggeration in some of the j ; j claims, there is no doubt that the results under the old system were i sometimes inequitable. The right to sell a play to the motion picture industry, as con-i tracts with playwrights were previously drawn, was the manager's and his only. The money thus obtained was then subject to even division between the producer/manager and the playwright. Under the new contract pro visions, this arrangement would continue in the same manner. The grievance of the dramatists, however, was based on the fact that mana gers, pressed with other responsibilities and concerns, were liable to dispose of film rights for less than might have been obtained if time were taken to drive a hard bargain. When the large amounts of money paid for the film rights to successful plays are considered, it will be easily seen that the playwrights had a legitimate concern. Another circumstance which operated against the playwright in this connection was the fact that many of the producers had contracted with certain film companies to turn over all of their plays at a set price. Such agreements disposed of any competitive bidding for film rights and to that extent limited the possibilities of attaining higher prices for the film rights to a play, although it added a measure of ; stability to the life of the stage producer. I Under the standard contract of 1920, the producer/manager and j the playwright were given equal privileges to arrange for the disposi- | tion of a given play to the movie industry. Either party, when he re- j 13 ceived an offer, submitted it to the other, and if the latter was dis satisfied he was given thirty days in which to obtain a better offer, j I That failing, the first offer was accepted. j The practical success of the standard contract of 1920 is cer- j l tainly questionable, but the success of the precedent is not. The rapid development of the guild system within the League gives testimony to ; this fact. In July, 1920, a list of charter members, the constitution : and by-laws for the second guild, the Guild of Free Lance Artists, were ; published in the Authors' League Bulletin.^ Negotiations were then un- | der way with professional scenario writers in California for them to form yet another guild in the League. These talks were led by Thompson Buchanan and Rupert Hughes, both of whom were members of the Executive Council of the Authors' League. Buchanan was a noted dramatist and also a key writer on the scenario staffs of the Goldwyn and Lasky studios. Rupert Hughes was one of America's best known screen writers, primarily because he had gained prominence first as a dramatist, novelist, and short story writer of note. He came to Hollywood as one of Goldwyn's "Eminent Authors" and I remained an influential figure for many years. Frances Taylor Patterson i of Columbia University, one of the first academics to concern himself with writers of photoplays, noted that Hughes was the only one of the "Eminent Authors" successfully to learn the intricacies of the camera ^Authors' League Bulletin, VIII, No. 4 (1920), pp. 5-12. 14 I C lidiom. He found success and art in Hollywood. The climate in 1920 for the formation of professional organiza tions in Hollywood was better than ever before. Movies were making hun-j Idreds of thousands of dollars and many of those creative people without | whom movies could not be made felt that they did not share, in just | measure, the profits they made possible. Cameramen in the industry | joined one another in the American Society of Cinematographers in May of 1920. They met in search of a greater share of the profits and greater recognition: "to put the name of the cameraman on the screen."6; Eventually, they achieved a closed shop in Hollywood and the A.S.C. re-! mains one of the first and most successful of the labor organizations j in the motion picture industry. i The craft unions, too, were making themselves heard. During the' summer of 1920, 2100 members of the Motion Picture Craftsman union | struck in New York for better wages. They were backed in thfeir demands j by the International Alliance of Theatrical Stage Employees and Motion ; Picture Operators (I.A.T.S.E.) and successfully negotiated for better wages for the workers who actually processed the film which was shown on the screen. ; i But this climate for the organizations of labor in the industry ; i was a relatively new phenomenon. The industry's past was cluttered j ^Frances Taylor Patterson, "The Author and Hollywood," The North j American Review, CCXLIV > No. 1 (Autumn, 1937), p. 82. j 6 Variety, May 28, 1920, p. 47. j 15 |with the dead hulks of dead screenwriters' organizations; the Scenario Authors' League, Photodramatists, Inc., the Authors' Assurance Associa tion, and the Ed-Au Club were formed in the East between 1913 and 1915, i largely to protect the products of screenwriters from unauthorized use or copying. The largest of these groups was born in the West and it too experienced quick extinction. It was called the Photoplay Authors' j I I League (P.A.L.) and influenced the future Screen Writers' Guild more j j than any of its other predecessors. | | P.A.L. lasted for little more than two years, from March, 1914, | | to May, 1916. Variety credited prominent scenario writers, Russell E. j Smith, Marc Edmund Jones, and Hettie Grey Baker with fostering the j Photoplay Authors' League and drew a parallel between it and the Authors' League of America: [its purpose is] "to do for the movie writers what the Authors' League of America is doing for other branches of the liter-! ary profession in the 'protection' line."? It was welcomed into exist- j ence by the Authors' League Bulletin which explained that the P.A.L. wasj formed to "meet the demand for some sort of an organization with suffi- j j cient power an influence to obtain adequate protection for the newly de veloped art of motion-picture play construction."^ I Requirements for full membership in the League were high enough ! i to insure that only professional scenario writers would be voting mem- ^Variet.y, March 20, 1914, p. 23. ^Authors' League Bulletin, II, No. 1 (1914), p. 3. bers. In order to be eligible for full membership, a writer must have | |had ten photoplays produced for the screen. Associate memberships were i javail able for writers who had had at least one photoplay accepted, but Inot necessarily produced. | The short-lived writers' organization—its members voted it out |of existence in May of 1916 9 --had only one major accomplishment: its |very existence forced greater attention to be paid to writers' griev ances. Perhaps it is only coincidental that the same day that Variety :reported the incorporation of the Photoplay Authors' League, it also |reported that Universal Studios had agreed henceforth to acknowledge :scenario writers' contributions to a motion picture by including their names on all advertising matter and on the screen credits of the film]0 The Photoplay Authors' League was more an honorary fraternity than a labor organization, yet it established two precedents which the Screen Writers' Guild was to follow: it interceded with various studios |on behalf of its members and it inaugurated the publication of a month ly newsletter, The Script. One man, more than any other, determined the character of the |Photoplay Authors' League, Frank E. Woods. Woods was head of the Mutua ;Studios scenario department and was characterized as D.W. Griffith's l ^Motion Picture World, XXVIII , No. 8 (1916), p. 1330. ^Variety, March 20, 1914, p. 23. right-hand man.^ He was also known as the first scenarist in Holly wood. No doubt it was his influence which induced Griffith to join the j ^eague and to lend it some of his prestige by becoming a member of its i Board of Control. Woods served as President of the League throughout jthe two years of its life. He led the Photoplay Authors' League in its i jvarious fights, all more or less unsuccessfully. P.A.L. campaigned 'against the so-called "scenario schools" which offered to train people | ito write incompetant scenarios which could never be sold, thereby duping people of their tuition fees. A typical school was investigated by the ifederal government for mail fraud. The report in the newspapers said, A scenario school recently advertised that a certain scenario i writer had earned $19,000 in a single year, writing scenarios. One of the investigating secret service men declared to a Variety representative that the figures were absolutely correct save for I three misleading ciphers. i P.A.L. also persuaded a Congressman to introduce a bill to include un published motion-picture plays under the protection of copyright.^ Neither of these efforts met with success. After the demise of the jPhotoplay Authors' League, Woods' continued concern for the equitable i treatment of writers in the movie industry is shown by his leadership in the Screen Writers' Guild and in the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and ^Variety, June 23, 1916, p. 32. ^Variety, November 28, 1913, p. 13. 13 Authors' League Bulletin, II, No. 3 (1914), p. 4. 18 Sciences. When Thompson Buchanan and Rupert Hughes suggested, four years following the dissolution of the Photoplay Authors' League, that a new screenwriters' organization be formed within the framework of the Au thors' League of America, it was as if the Authors' League had given its sanction to the profession of screenwriting. Screenwriters no longer had to be content with only a copy of the Authors' League. Not only had the climate changed within the industry regarding labor organiza tions, but also the attitudes of society toward the art of film had changed. In the minds of both the public and the critics, the movies had emerged from an entertainment novelty to an art form deserving con siderable attention. The writers themselves had, in many cases, changed their attitudes toward the screenwriting profession. More prestigious authors were on each coast writing especially for the movies and many wanted to participate more completely in the realization of this fledg ling art. The response of these screenwriters to the suggestion of their becoming a specialized unit within the Authors' League was both quick and affirmative. The formation of such a group showed great prom ise. Buchanan, who was then in the employ of Goldwyn Studios in Holly wood, held the initial organizational meeting of the Guild at his home on June 24, 1920. Frank E, Woods was chosen at this meeting to be chairman of a dinner scheduled for July 8, for the new members, at which dinner a constitution and by-laws were to be formed.^ On September 16, 1920, the Screen Writers' Guild telegraphed a formal request for affiliation with the Authors' League of America,justi two weeks after the Motion Picture Craftsman's union successfully set- ; tied its strike against the National Association of the Motion Picture Industry.^ 5 The Authors' League was still based in New York and as yet had little contact with the minions of moviedom on the West Coast. Therefore, a decision on the Guild's request was not made at the time. The League asked the Guild to submit a copy of its constitution, by-laws, membership requirements, and other details of the Guild's structure.^ After some delay, the Screen Writers' Guild officially became a branch of the League on October 21, 1920. One condition was placed on the Guild's becoming a branch of the League: that the Guild must agree to expel any member who was expelled from the Authors' League itself. This condition presented no significant problems to the members of the Guild and they added such a provision to the constitution of the Guild. The formation of the Authors' Guild of the Authors' League of America shortly after completed the restructuring of the Authors' League into a much more functional body capable of serving the varied needs of each of its members effectively. 14 Variet.y, July 9, 1920, p. 30. 1 ^ The union signed the new agreement in the week of November 12, retroactive to September 3, 1920. (Variety, November 12, 1920, p. 38.) ; ^Authors' League Bulletin, VIII, No. 7 (1920), p. 11. CHAPTER III THE SCREEN WRITERS' GUILD OF THE AUTHORS' LEAGUE OF AMERICA Fittingly, Thompson Buchanan, one of the founders of the Screen Writers' Guild, was elected to the first presidency of the Guild, with Mary O'Connor as Vice-president, and Jack Cunningham and Waldemar Young serving as Secretary and Treasurer, respectively J Mary O'Connor had also been a member of the Board of Control of the Photoplay Authors' League, as were four other charter members of the Guild: Frank E. Woods, William E. Wing, Wallace Clifton, and Will Ritchey. 2 The Screen Writers' Guild was formed principally to unite screen writers in an attempt at raising the status of movie writers and pro tecting their rights. The constitution of the Guild, published in Jan uary, 1921, is more specific in the acknowledged purposes of the first ; Screen Writers' Guild: 1) To secure copyright protection for original story manuscripts and scenarios of motion pictures; 2) To free American motion pictures from censorship; 3) To insist on more cooperation between the producers of motion ^Authors' League Bulletin, VIII, No. 8 (1920), p. 4. o Will Ritchey had, in addition, been the editor of The Script, published by the Photoplay Authors' League as its official organ. 20 pictures and the Guild's members; 4) To procure "for the author of a story and the author of its continuity or adaptation for motion picture purposes adequate screen, advertising, and publicity credit";^ 5) To help its members secure adequate compensation and recog nition for their efforts.^ The goals of the Screen Writers' Guild demonstrated an immediate difference in tone between the Guild and the Photoplay Authors' League. The first two goals could easily have been adopted by either organiza tion. In fact, P.A.L. had already made a strong, though unsuccessful, attempt at achieving the first. However, the last three goals are more militant and are directed against the screenwriters 1 employers, the producers of motion pictures. The Screen Writers' Guild aimed beyond being a mere professional organization to achieving the power of a suc cessful labor union. This antagonistic character of the leadership of the Screen Writers' Guild is more evident, though, in the objects of organization it proposed in a letter to screenwriters inviting member ship in the Guild. Of the six objects suggested, five were directed toward dramatic changes in the producer-writer relationship. The sug gestions included a demand for equal prominence of the writers' name to| any other person involved in the production of a motion picture, not •^Authors' League Bulletin, VIII, No. 10 (1921), p. 9. ^Ibid., pp. 9-14. 22 : only on the screen credits, but also on all advertising of the picture.; The temporary Executive Committee of the Guild,^ led by Thompson Buchanan, also suggested that the members of the Screen Writers' Guild j seek royalties for their creative efforts, giving them a greater share of the profits from their work. Threats also came from the Committee to forbid future feature movie showings in Pennsylvania and Ohio until those states amended their laws instituting rigorous censorship of -movies. 6 Although the Committee's vision of the objects of organization of the Screen Writers' Guild was severely moderated when the constitu tion of the Guild was written and passed by the Guild's new members,the leadership of the Guild maintained an aggressive posture. The reasons for this aggressiveness become clear when the work ing conditions of the screenwriters are examined. Representative of the plight of the screen writer at the time of the organization of the Guild and perhaps one of the most compelling reasons for its members to: join the Guild was the capricious allocation of screen credits for the writing of a screenplay. To an extent, screenwriters' salaries were determined by the num ber and the quality of the movies they had previously written. Thus, writers' screen credits were vital to the maintenance of their liveli- ^Composed of Bayard Veiller, Chairman; Dwight Cleveland, W.H. Clifford, Denison CIift, Jack Cunningham, A.S. LeVino, Jeanie MacPherson, George Pyper, Luther Reed, Paul Scofield, Frank E. Woods, and Thompson Buchanan. ^Variety, July 9, 1920, p. 30. 23 hoods. Yet many times writers worked on movies and received no credit I at all for their contributions. One reason for this lack of acknow ledgement was that in order to be hired for a writing assignment, the writer many times had to write his adaptation or scenario under a con tract which stipulated that anything produced by the writer "shall auto matically become the property of the producer who, for this purpose, shall be deemed the author thereof."^ Originally, this stipulation pro-; tected the producer, allowing him the legal right to change the script at will, without complaint from the scenario writer. However, in prac tice, some producers took advantage of this stipulation and often claimed screen credit for the movie under their own or an assumed name and the real writers frequently received no screen credit at all. An example of the lack of regard which was paid to screenwriters prior to the formation of the Screen Writers' Guild is found in the annual summary of the year's work in the motion picture industry con tained in Wid's Year Book. This annual year book, which was first pub lished in 1918, contains, among other features, a putatively complete list of feature productions for the previous year together with sepa rate lists of directors and their credits, along with other lists of actors and cameramen with their credits. Significantly, the first three years of Wid's Year Book contained not the slightest recognition of the U.S., National Labor Relations Board, Decisions and Orders of the National Labor Relations Board,Vol. 7, May 1 , 1938-June 30, 1938 (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1938), p. 690. work screen writers contributed to the screen. Not until the Wid's Year Book, 1921-1922—the publication following the establishment o f the Screen Writers' Guild—, did a list of screenwriters' credits become a part of the yearbook. It appears that one of the immediate results of the uniting of screen writers was their greater recognition within the industry. The screen writers, who had hitherto been excluded, ei- ; ther from slight or oversight, from representation in the yearbook, now. had equal notice with directors, actors, and cameramen. Nevertheless, outside the industry they had almost no recognition, a common complaint among the writers. Even within the industry, the screen writers did not achieve their ends immediately. Appended to the end of the list of screen writ er credits in Wid's Year Book, 1921-1922 was this notice: A SUGGESTION The above list, while far from complete, is the best obtainable of the work of scenario writers in productions released during the past year. This is primarily due to the fact that very often producers fail to give credit to the scenario writer. Very often investigations to determine the name of the scenario writer are blocked for some reason best known to the producer. It is therefore respectfully urged that scenario writers forward to this office in the future the names of such productions upon which they have worked. Through this cooperation a more complete list will be available for future issues.® The complaint that screen writers did not receive proper credit fyjid's Year Book, 1921-1922, ed. by Joseph Dannenburg (Hollywood; Wid's Films and Film Folks, Inc., 1922), p. 341. 25 for their works is a common one. However, it is difficult to support the complaint with statistics which demonstrate the degree of inequity in the situation and are, at the same time, free from a charge of bias Q in the compiler of the statistics. Wid's Year Book, which is later known as the Film Year Book and still later known as the Film Daily Year Book, provides a source for objective raw information; it provides the names of the features and the credits for each year, but does not process the data into usable statistics. The following data were determined during the course of this investigation relative to the period between September 1, 1920, and October 1, 1921, using Wid's Year Book, 1921-1922. Of the 787 feature movies listedin Wid's Year Book, 1921-1922,^° 762 gave credits to at least one person involved in the production of the movie. Of that 762, 612 feature productions gave credit to the cameraman or cameramen who shot the picture: under the leadership of the American Society of Cinematographers, at least one cameraman received credit for 80.3% of the productions made in the period under consideration. In contrast, scenario writers received credit for only 453 features in the same period: a percentage of 59.4%. 9 For instance, Leo Rosten, writing about the members of the mo tion picture industry, questions at length the accuracy of the statis tics published in a Guild-sponsored pamphlet relative to the financial solvency of screen writers. (Leo C. Rosten, qil. cit. p. 325 note.) 1 °Wid's Year Book, 1921-1922, pp. 293-313. To some extent, these figures for screenplay credit may be con strued as misleading. Certainly some movies were made extemporaneously; such as Mack Sennett's comedy productions, with no one writing the story until circumstances determined the plot line.^ This, of course,; would decrease the total number of productions where screen writing credit would be applicable, and the percentage of credited films would rise. On the other hand, the producer's well established privilege of claiming authorship of screenplays he had purchased should balance out any conceivable adjustments to the credit totals or percentages. Luck ily, cameramen had no such problem (although they often failed to re ceive credit for their work, as the above statistics show), si nee,after all, someone had to operate the cameras. All circumstances considered, these statistics seem useful in comparing the relative success in the screenwriters' quest to gain credit for their work. At this point in the development of the motion picture industry, it was still split between the New York area (Ft. Lee, New Jersey) and Hollywood. The short-lived, Eastern branch of the Screen Writers' Guild was formed in June, 1921, out of the existing membership of the Guild. Not surprisingly, the published goals of the Eastern branch were more akin to the standards set by the Dramatists' Guild and the goals originally suggested by the organizers of the Western branch of the Guild than to the official goals written into the Guild's constitu- ^Though Sennett gave himself credit for his movie, Love, Honor and Behave that year. 27 . 1 ? • ti on. ie - j The Western branch probably had more influence on the industry, j but the Eastern branch represented the Guild at the Authors' League, since both the Authors' League and the Eastern branch of the Guild were based in New York. However, less than two years after its birth, on March 6, 1923,'^ the Eastern branch died of apparent malnutrition. In two short years, the production on the East Coast had dwindled badly and those professionally involved in the business had moved to the West Coast. "This action was taken on account of the inactivity of the Eastern Branch, no business having been transacted by it, and no offi cers having been elected to supersede those first appointed."^ An index of the growing stature of the Screen Writers' Guild in Hollywood is the number of its writers who had numerous scenarios made into movies and who received credit in Wid's Year Book for it. For the time between October 1, 1921, and January 1, 1923, there were 66 people credited in Wid's Year Book, 1922-1923 with writing all or part of three or more movies. 38 of those people were members of the Screen Writers' Guild, and three were former members; a rather remarkable percentage (62%) for the fledgling organization. ^Authors' League Bulletin, IX, No. 4 (1921), p. 2. ^Authors' League Bulletin, XI, No. 1 (1923), p. 10. Perhaps one of the reasons for the Guild's growth is that there ? i was a need in Hollywood for the services which the Guild could provide.: One of the best examples of this was the Grievance Committee of the i Screen Writers' Guild. The Grievance Committee was set up to act as an arbitration board, composed of members of the Guild, to settle disputes; between producers and screen writers of the Guild. These disputes gen-: erally concerned either disposition of screen credit for work the screen writer performed or payment for such work. A credit indicates that the writer credited contributed a signi ficant portion of the story which is finally filmed. The writing of movies in Hollywood'frequently requires the efforts of more than one person to develop a shooting script: in the three years following the formation of the Guild, 150 of the approximately 1,250 movies which received writing credits had two or more scenario writers credited. Multiple authorship of many of the additional 800 movies were not cred ited in the same period is likely, considering how movies were made in the studios. Writing by committee created all sorts of problems concerning credits. Many times a writer was assigned to work on a screen adapta tion, but, for one reason or another, produced very little to show for his effort and the assignment had to be picked up by another writer. Should the first writer receive a screen credit for something he accom plished so little on? The Grievance Committee was formed to deal with ; this kind of situation if it could not be resolved between the writers 29 ; and the producer. In its second year, the committee settled eight cases, involving $42,000.^ It did its job so well that producers them selves brought cases to the attention of the committee for a decision]®I Once, a case between producers was taken out of the courts and brought before the Grievance Committee J 7 The Committee reported that in its first three years it had never failed to satisfy a dispute to both I O sides' satisfaction. The Grievance Committee encouraged Guild mem bers not to rely on verbal commitments, but to get something in writing --if only a letter—confirming the agreements. These written confirma tions greatly reduced the chores of the Grievance Committee. Frank E. Woods summarized the Committee's activities for the benefit of the Au thors' League: In its first year, the guild's grievance committee handled thirty cases. The second year saw this number much reduced. The fol lowing year brought five complaints; while last year there were but two, one of which was settled, while the other is now in course of arbitration J 9 The success of the Committee was ascribed primarily to the wholly con fidential nature of the arbitrations. All cases were considered to be ^Authors' League Bulletin, X, No. 8 (1922), p. 7 ^Authors' League Bulletin, IX, No. 8 (1921), p. 7. ^Authors' League Bulletin, X, No. 8 (1922), p. 7. ^Authors' League Bulletin, IX, No. 8 (1921), p. 7. 19 Ibid. ! 30 confidential. The issues and results received absolutely no publicity?P In such a situation, neither side in a dispute lost face and adverse decisions were not quite as painful. The functioning of the Grievance , Committee was one of the most successful efforts of the Screen Writers' Guild. The Legal Committee of the Guild was not nearly as successful in its efforts to secure a standard contract for screen writers comparable to the Dramatists' Guild Standard Contract of 1920 or its more enforc- able Minimum Basic Agreement of 1926. In 1921, three such contracts were devised by Guild attorneys for different types of writing assign ments for the screen. While some individual producers agreed to use the contracts recommended by the Guild, the aim of the Committee and the Guild was to persuade the motion picture associations of producers to agree to use the contracts.^ thereby gaining industry-wide agreement. This aim was thwarted because the producers failed to recognize the Screen Writers' Guild as having enough power to apply much pressure on the industry. As Milton Schwartz, Chairman of the Guild's Legal Commit tee, reported to the League, "...the producers seemed disinclined to meet us on any sort of common footing.Two years later, late in 1924, the Guild approached Will H. Hays, head of the Motion Picture 20 Authors' League Bulletin, X, No. 8 (1922), p. 7. ^Authors' League Bulletin, IX, No. 8 (1921), p. 7. ^Authors' League Bulletin, X, No. 8 (1922), p. 6. 31 i Producers and Distributors of America (M.P.P.D.A.)> with newly revised ! contracts which it hoped the M.P.P.D.A. would consider. Hays too was disinclined to consider such a possibility.*^ In this, as in many other aspects of the film industry, Hays earned his nickname, "czar of the movies," by championing the status quo. Nevertheless, the Guild's Le gal Committee persisted and it had a contract printed for independent writers and circulated it among both writers and producers for approval. Little was to come from the negotiations started with the M.P.P.D.A. in the next few years. As soon as it looked as if the writers finally knew what they wanted, the industry was upturned by the coming of sound films. Serious thoughts about a standard contract for screen writers were obliviated in everyone's minds but the writers'. Even if writers could not unite in their contractual demands, they could and did unite against the evils of censorship. Though the screen writers considered themselves "the only really articulate branch of the motion picture industry,the Screen Writers' Guild did not act until it received a request from William Desmond Taylor, a leader in the Motion Picture Directors' Association, to join the rest of the industry to fight the increasingly restrictive and burdensome enforce ment of state and local laws calling for censorship and the Sunday clos ing of movie theaters. The Guild thereafter made up for any prior reti- ^ 3 Authors' League Bulletin, XII, Nos. 5-6 (1924), p. 21. ^Alfred Hustwick, "The Truth About Hollywood," The Photodrama- tist, III, No. 10 (1922), p. 6. 32 | cerice by fully joining in the industry's efforts. A number of the Guild's most prominent members, including Rupert Hughes, A.S. LeVino, William C. de Mi 11e, and Jeanie MacPherson, helped to write a screen play for a film against censorship which was to be produced by Jesse L.. Lasky. In addition, Frank E. Woods, as Chairman of the Guild's Censor-; ship Committee, circulated a petition against censorship to be signed by the foremost authors in the country.^ A move to form a loose-knit organization of those opposed to screen censorship found its culmination in the formation of the Screen Drama League in 1922. This League was short-lived, primarily because the Motion Picture Producers and Distrib utors of America in large part forestalled any major activity by the forces promoting further censorship. The second aim of organization included in the Guild's constitution was reached, but not significantly by the Guild's own action and only through the fiction of self-censor ship. On another front, the Guild was both very active and rather suc cessful: the protection of the reputation of the screen writing profes sion in the film industry. Although this seemed an impossible task, considering the diversity among screen writers, the Guild's efforts on behalf of the profession were impressive. Soon after the Guild's estab lishment, it joined both the Los Angeles Chamber of Commerce and the OK The Photopla.ywright, April, 1921, p. 7. ^The Photodramatist, III, No. 10 (1922), p. 8. Hollywood Chamber of Commerce, "the general policy of the Guild being | to impress itself as an important factor in the community, tending al ways to the dignity and substantiality of the general membership.j A good example of the Guild's concern for writers' reputations and the reputation of the industry is its reaction to the series of Hol lywood scandals which rocked the heart of the film industry in 1922. The near simultaneous scandals of the unsolved murder of the director, William Desmond Taylor, Roscoe "Fatty" Arbuckle's alleged rape case, and the disclosure of Wallace Reid's drug addiction prompted the estab lishment of the M.P.P.D.A. to withstand the substantial morals charges which beseiged the industry along with subsequent threats of national censorship. Horrified, not only at the murder of Taylor, but also at the lethal publicity generated by the involvement in the Taylor murder of two of the era's most popular female stars, Mary Miles Minter and Mabel Normand, the Screen Writers' Guild offered a $1,000 reward for the arrest and conviction of Taylor's murderer. 28 It is likely that the Guild members felt a special shock at Taylor's murder because of his prominence in the Motion Picture Directors' Association, which was a counterpart to the Guild. The Guild also joined what promised to be a giant organization of the employees of the movie industry, the Federation of Art. The Fed- ^Authors' League Bulletin, X, No. 8 (1922), p. 5. 28 The Script, I, Nos. 12-13 (1922), p. 1. 34 ! eration was an attempted amalgamation of the Actors' Equity Association (Western Branch), the American Society of Cinematographers, the Motion ; Picture Directors' Association, and the Screen Writers' Guild of the Authors' League of America. It was formed in reaction to what movie people thought of as character assassination in the press as a result of the Taylor murder. It generated publicity designed to offset the adverse publicity caused by the scandals. Such statements as the fol lowing issued by the Federation were common, though largely ineffective: We, the great mass of decent people who really create the motion pictures do pledge ourselves that we will not act with, we will not photograph, we will not direct and we will not write for any individual who has brought disgrace upon the profession, or whose personal conduct is such as to risk bringing disgrace upon the profess ion.29 A body blow to the effectiveness of the Federation of Art, inso far as power in the industry was concerned, was the inability of the Actors' Equity Association to join the Federation of Art because of pre vious committments. Actors' Equity had long been affiliated with the American Federation of Labor and the AF of L refused to allow any af filiated organization to join with any organization which did not in turn affiliate with the American Federation of Labor.Again, an or ganization which had the potential to work wonders in the industry for the betterment of working conditions or the alleviation of any supposed 29~The Script, I, No. 16 (1922), p. 1. 30 The Script, I, No. 24 (1922), p. 1. 35 ' wrongs for the industry's employees died in its birth throes. The issue of the validity of the so-called "scenario schools" is connected with the above issue as both revolve around the Guild's con cern with Hollywood's relations with its viewing public. Schools offer ing to teach people outside the industry the rudiments of screen writing for fees ranging from $10 to $200 were springing up throughout the coun try. Scenario contests offered much incentive to people interested in quick money and a lucrative career. For instance, $1,000 prize money was once offered by Universal Pictures for the best scenario presented by a college student.The articles in the press promoting the selling prices of books and plays for their movie rights—$1,000,000 for Ben Hur, $225,000 for Turn to the Right, $175,000 for May Down East among many selling for more than $100,000--created a ready market for such schools among people who confused original scenarios with successful novels and pi ays. In 1920, the New York Times reported that Hollywood received not less than 8,000 unsolicited scenarios per week from amateur screen writ- op ers. A more reliable estimate, given after a poll of the studios by the Screen Writers' Guild, would be more than 40,000 scenarios annually from unknown writers. Of these 40,000 or more, a maximum of four 33 screenplays were actually purchased, according to the Guild survey. 3 ^New York Times, February 16,1923, p. 23. 3 ^New York Times, December 5, 1920, VII, p. 10. 33 Authors' League Bulletin, XI, No. 7 (1923), p. 8. 36 This survey appears to contradict somewhat its endorsement two years before of the Palmer Photoplay Corporation as a worthwhile scenario school.^ The school, owned and operated by Frederick Palmer, a memberj of both the Authors' League and the Screen Writers' Guild, published The Photodramatist which acted as the first official organ of the Screen Writers' Guild and the school made much of the fact. Palmer graduates actually were able to sell some of their screenplays according to the Guild. Nevertheless, the odds were not very good for the prospective screen writer, yet many scenario schools advertised their "inside" con nections with the Hollywood studios and offered support to the hopes of their students. Their clients were often severely disappointed with the results of their studies. Witness one such person's letter to a studio: Dear sir I am asking for a little empmashion do you buy photo plays if so I have one writen contains 30,000 words I sent the play to a company they say it is alright tho they ask $60.00 to reconstuck and type write it for me an find a buyer they want gurantee a sale for my play an I cant aford to send my money when I dont no whether I get any back. it seems like they want to crook me. they still have my play but they will send it back by me sending them 52<t in stamps. what I wont is to get in with a company that buys photoplays an produces them ready for the screen. now my play contains 5 persons the names as folows. herbert yong—an railroad foremen ruth jones—herberts sweet heart Mr jones—ruths father grace foster—herberts married sister •^The Photodramatist, III, No. 6 (1921), pp. 13-14. 37 dave hanon--an outlaw leader the title of the play is | (atempting bride) an I have many other plays in mind I can write. now if you dont buy plays cant you send me the adress of a company that dos buy plays i answer soon yours truly 35 As this client presumably realized at some point that his aspirations would not be achieved, he might well have thought that the movie indus try was in league with the scenario schools to bilk him of his dollars. The Guild's reaction to the situation was a lengthy investigation of the schools and then the institution of a broad program with the aim of; educating the public to the facts of screen writing. This program was • a service to both the public and the industry as a whole. Incidentally, it was also a service to professional screen writers since any reduc tion of the number of scenarios coming into the studios freed scenario editors and readers for more careful consideration of their own crea tions. On the whole, however, motion-picture producers did not welcome the appearance of the Screen Writers' Guild. Variety reported that they thought that the cost of fiction rights was already excessive and a ma- jor source of waste in the making of pictures. The emergence of a -^Authors' League Bulletin, XI, No. 11 (1924), p. 6. ^Variety, January 28, 1921, p. 46. 38 union of screen writers within the industry promised even higher prices^ for the preparation of stories for the screen. Besides, many of the producers, especially those with vaudeville production experience like William Fox and Marcus Loew, had already seen what unions had done to vaudeville. Many blamed the arrival of Equity, along with movies, for vaudeville's decline. Equity's insistence on minimum wages for perform ers forced more than one marginal vaudeville theater away from stage acts toward movies. The movie producers did not wish to see themselves pushed out of the movie business by having their admittedly substantial profits eaten up by high salaries. The leadership within the Guild was. also disquieting. Rupert Hughes was one of the original organizers of both the Authors' League of America and the Authors' Assurance Associa- 07 tion, as well as the Screen Writers' Guild. The presence of the Guild's first President, Thompson Buchanan, was even more unsettling since it was he who led the Executive Committee of the Authors' League which recommended the League's affiliation with the American Federation of Labor. Besides, the producers did not miss later that it was Buchanan who was the first dramatist to "veto" a play he had written. Under the contract negotiated by the Authors' League, Buchanan took back control of his play because he objected to the performance of a support- qo ing actor. The prospect of this kind of control over a scenario or •^Variety, January 21, 1914, p. 15. ^New York Times, January 28, 1923, I, pt. 2, p. 8. screenplay must have terrified producers and directors alike. Eventu ally the producers' fears were somewhat allayed and a more conservative element in the Guild prevailed in the continued affluence of the bur geoning Hollywood movie money harvest. Frank E. Woods' election as the second president of the Screen Writers' Guild signaled a moderate ap proach to labor negotiations rather than the more vigorous approach to be expected of Buchanan's leadership. The Guild soon built a clubhouse called the Writers' Club, and sold memberships to writers, actors, pro ducers, and directors. Despite the vigor of its beginnings, the Screen Writers' Guild soon reached a plateau of comfortable ease sharing in the pleasureable excesses of an industry which grew too fast to grow lean and strong. CHAPTER IV ; THE SCREEN WRITERS' GUILD ENTERS THE TALKIE ERA j j I It is a commonplace to say that the advent of the talking pic ture revolutionized the motion picture business. As with most common places, the situation is over-simplified by alluding only to the talk ies. There were many other things going on which changed the tenor of the film industry in the late twenties, though none which were so dra matic. The talkie was a long time coining. Thomas Edison's talking motion picture had run people out of the theaters in the early teens. Lee De Forest had been developing and periodically demonstrating his sound-on-film version of the talking movie, the Phonofilm, since 1922,^ while Bell Telephone had perfected their disc version of synchronized sound to the point that in 1926 the financially ailing Warner Brothers Corporation gambled on its future by making the feature movie, Don Juan, starring John Barrymore and fea turing a Vitaphone (Western Electric/Bell Telephone) synchronized must- cal score. The success of Don Juan—Mordant Hall reviewed the film ^New York Times, April 22, 1922, p. 1. The movie was written by Bess Meredyth, a member of the Screen Writers' Guild; an interesting portent of the impact of the talking picture on the future importance of writers in Hollywood. 40 41 extravagantly in the New York Times^--encouraged the Warners to contin ue their efforts. In 1927, their gamble paid off when they released The Jazz Singer, starring the redoubtable A1 Jolson. The unqualified success of that movie established the box office credentials of sound in the midst of an industry-wide box office slump. The rest of the Hollywood studios began the move toward sound, trying vainly to match Warner Brothers, with dozens of companies offering synchronized sound recording and reproduction. William Fox bought the rights to the Ger man Tri-Ergon patents to sound-on-fi1m recording and started the Fox- Case Company. The exotic names of the new processes—Vitaphone, Phono- film, Movietone, Pallophotophone, Vocafilm--are reminiscent of the mar velous names for the prototypes for the first movie cameras—Phantasma- trope, Zoetrope, Zoopraxinascope, Kinematoscope. The rush began to convert silent movie theaters to sound-capable theaters and, as more theaters went to the expense of the conversion, the demand for sound movies increased. Variety reported, "Sound didn't do any more to the industry than turn it upside down, shake the entire bag of tricks from its pocket and advance Warner Brothers from last place [among film companies] to first in the league."^ Thomas Edison, who had as early as 1889 succeeded in synchronize 3 New York Times, August 7, 1926, p. 6. ^Variety, January 2, 1929, p. 6. 42 5 ing his phonograph to the Kinetoscope, preserved his poor reputation for movie prognostication by predicting the downfall of the talking picture: "Americans require a restful quiet in the moving picture thea ter and for them talking from the lips of figures on the screen des troys the illusion....The stage is the place for the spoken word. The reactions of the American public up to now indicate the movies will not supersede it."® Edison, at the beginning of the century, refused to pay the slight additional fee for the foreign patent protection of his Kinetoscope, indicating at the time that movies were only a novelty and that Americans would quickly tire of them. The presence of the new medium of sound immediately obliviated the aesthetic standards of silent film which had slowly developed through the past quarter of a century. The Hollywood studios acted the same way Edison did: they repeated the actions and attitudes typi cal at the onset of the motion picture era. The camera was locked down because of the restrictions on microphone placement due to sound; for the most part, the year following The Jazz Singer offered little other than photographed stage plays brought straight from Broadway much like Lasky with his Famous Players in Famous Plays concept in the early silent films. Vitaphone reached the pinnacle of this type of thinking when it signed a contract with the Metropolitan Opera Company ^Arthur Knight, The Liveliest Art (New York: New American Li brary, 1959), p. 145. ®New York Times, May 21, 1926, p. 12. ! 43 which assured Vitaphone access to the artists of the Metropolitan.^ It 1 was as if in the movies, as well as in biology, ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny. The talking movie increased almost every expense of movie-making, from shooting to exhibiting. Sound film rental charges increased be tween three and four times as much as previous silent film rentals be cause film producers passed on all increased costs of production to the exhibiter.^ The average five-reel feature cost $40,000 to $80,000 to make in 1920, while in 1929, the average feature cost up to $200,000.^ In an era featuring virtually no inflation, the rising costs in feature movie production can be attributed directly to competitive bidding among studios for stars, directors, and writers, along with a general increase in production values, including sound. Writers were recog nized at this time as being more important to the studios than they had been before and some were advanced to executive positions.^ More important to the studios was the knowledge that there were exhibiters available for the pictures they produced. No matter how expensive a product is to produce, if you have a buyer committed to ^New York Times, June 18, 1926, p. 27. ^Variety, December 5, 1928, p. 5. ^Lewis Jacobs, The Rise of the American Film: A Critical History (New York: Teachers College Press, 1971), p. 293. ^°The Plotweaver, November, 1929, p. 7. 44 purchase the product whatever the price, then you can afford anything. In the late twenties, the studios in Hollywood were nearly in that happy position, although there were rising murmurs of discontent throughout the decade. Even with a 400% increase on the cost of film rentals, by and large the exhibiters were happy since they were able to increase admission fees and maintain heavy attendance at their theaters. As Sam Shain summed up the situation for Variety from the perspective of 1933, "[the] novelty of the talkers for about two years afterward [i_.£. 1927] was so attractive to the public that the box office was able to stand any kind of overhead."^ Movie theaters existed to show movies. Hollywood provided movies to the movie theaters. Hollywood had the supply and the theater owners provided the demand. The film producers had a tendency to combine their most desirable movies with less desirable one into a group to be rented to theater owners. If you, as a theater owner, wanted to book one of the more desirable movies, starring for instance Rudolph Valentino or Buster Keaton, then you must also rent some other pictures of the pro ducers' choosing. This common practice was known as "block booking" in the industry. Testimony to the extent of this situation is readily available. One independent theater owner told of the films available to her from the movie studios in Hollywood. ^Variety, January 3, 1933, p. 12. Columbia promises to make a minimum of 32 and a maximum of 40. The contract gives no information whatsoever, but the work sheet states that the program will be selected from properties of the company and from additional outstanding stories acquired during the year. First National-Warner Bros. Pictures will make 27. Only numbers will appear on the contracts and work sheets. If you buy from First National you get number 951 to 977 R.K.O. will make 45 pictures identified only by numbers, 601 to 645. No description of the subjects United Artists, because of the fact that it sells pictures individually, prepares at the be ginning of every season a complete announcement of its products. It lists the proposed pictures by name, author, book, its stars, and cast, and gives a complete synopsis of each picture.' 2 The practice of block booking allowed the major producers to forecast their sales for the next year quite accurately and to budget their films accordingly. This supply and demand situation presumably would have proceeded unchecked but for the intervention of the Federal Trade Commission (F.T.C.). Even as early as January, 1924, complaints were lodged in the courts against the existing status quo. For instance, in a suit placed in the U.S. District Court in New York, a single theater owner charged he had "suffered from a conspiracy in restraint of trade in violation of the Sherman anti-trust law [1890]."^ 3 The complaint was directed ^Statement of Jeanette Willensky, Secretary, Independent Motion Picture Owners of Eastern Pennsylvania, made before the Hearings before the Committee on Interstate Commerce, House of Representatives, 76th Congress, Third Session, Motion Picture Films, p. 163, cited by Mae D. Huettig, Economic Control"of the Motion Picture Industry: A Study in Industrial Organization (Pittsburqh: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1944), p. 122. ^ 3 New York Times, January 29, 1924, p. 17. 46 ! against the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors of America, in 1924, but the case was not even presented to the courts until October, 1927.^ The wheels ground slowly. Toward the end of the decade, the murmurs of discontent swelled j into a tumult of distress. The Trade Commission investigated other complaints against the group of corporations headed by Famous Players- Lasky Lasky Corporation (Paramount), Real Art Pictures Corporation, the Stanley Booking Corporation, and the Black New England Theaters, IncJ^ Adolph Zukor and Jesse Lasky were prominent among others specified in the reports. After taking down over 17,000 pages of testimony in the hearings, together with another 20,000 pages of exhibits introduced by the defendants, the Commission was urged to limit itself to two ques tions: first, whether it was legal for a dealer in motion pictures— either a distributor, like the Stanley Booking Corporation, or a 5 pro ducer, like Famous Players-Lasky--to own motion picture theaters, and, second, whether block booking practices were legal. The F.T.C. answered only one of these questions in July, 1921; it banned the practice of block booking. Adolph Zukor, speaking for the Paramount-Lasky interests, made headlines by announcing his refusal to ^New York Times, October 29, 1927, p. 15. ^New York Times, October 29, 1925, p. 5. ; ^New York Times, June 4, 1926, p. 14. i 47 | I obey the F.T.C. prohibition^ and the Department of Justice was ordered in on the case J ^ One year later, the industry in general and Paramount in particu lar was still utilizing the block booking techniques which the F.T.C. had branded "unfair" and had prohibited.^ For this reason, the Com mission requested a federal court order against block booking on May 15, 20 91 1928. With court orders, injunctions, 1 and bills introduced in Con- OO gress, all against block booking, the industry retreated precipitous ly but wisely. Ironically, block booking was declared legal once again in 1932 at the depth of the Great Depression and was never completely stopped until 1940, but the extent of its usage dropped considerably after 1928. No longer able to insure outlets for their movies through the relative coercion of block booking, the various studios bought movie outlets in wholesale lots. Chain after chain of movie theaters were sold to movie studios and to distributors in 1929.^ jhe "greatest ^New York Times, July 13, 1927, p. 21. ^New York Times, July 24, 1927, p. 16. ^New York Times, May 8, 1928, p. 30. I ^New York Times, May 15, 1928, p. 2. j New York Times, July 10, 1928, p. 41. ^New York Times, December 15, 1927, p. 10. 23New York Times, May 15, 1929, p. 37; May 15, 1929, p. 42; Junej 48 theatre coral!ing in [the] industry's history"^ assured the studios theaters to show their movies in order to make at least minimum esti mates of future rental income for their productions. But the Federal Trade Commission chief counsel, W.H. Fuller, had sounded the keynote of the future when he classed Famous Players-Lasky's similar purchase of theaters as ...the last step in carrying out [the] respondents' conspiracy to restrain interstate trade. Unless they can be compelled to dispose of these theatres and refrain from further purchase of the same character, they will continue to suppress competition in interstate commerce films.25 The pattern here established set a dependence on the studios' control of production, distribution, and exhibition by the same inter ests. The F.T.C. was asked in 1921 to decide whether 1) block booking was a "fair" or "unfair" practice and 2) whether it was legal for one interest to control production, distribution, and exhibition. The Com mission ruled against the former practice at long last, and the inten sification between 1927 and 1930 of the extent of the practice of pro ducers and distributors owning motion picture theaters made the ulti mate decision ordering complete divestiture of motion picture theater interests by producers and distributors inevitable in light of the various anti-trust laws. 23, 1929, II, p. 11; June 25, 1929, p. 43; August 14, 1929, p. 34; August 16, 1929, p. 8; September 22, 1929, p. 28; October 3, 1929, p.43 October 8, 1929, p. 24; November 21, 1929, p. 41. ^Variety, January 8, 1930, p. 87. 25 New York Times, November 21, 1925, p. 14. 49 The highpoint of the consolidation of studios with theater out lets was the merger of the William Fox studios with the chain of thea ters owned by Loew's, Inc. Marcus Loew's corporation at this time also controlled the giant Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios. This merger excited the interest of the federal government and Hollywood was again threat ened with the spectre of the trustbusters. The government introduced a suit against the merger almost immediately after its announcement,26 but the union of Fox and M-G-M lasted until July, 1931.^ The commencement of the talkie era and the loss of the security of controlled rentals through the ban on block booking, not to mention the loss in foreign bookings because their "talkers" were in English, combined to create an atmosphere in the Hollywood movie industry for a series of crises from which it has hardly escaped. The industry's de mands for capital were inexhaustible. In an era known for almost un limited prosperity, even the vast torrent of dollars funnelling into the Hollywood movie studios was insufficient to meet the industry's needs. Hollywood looked increasingly to New York for additional capi talization. Each studio needed more money to keep its top stars loyal with high, then higher salaries. It needed money to buy theaters to insure outlets for its product. It needed money to convert those thea ters into sound-capable theaters. It needed money to purchase Broadway ^^New York Times, November 28, 1929, p. 1. ^Variety, July 14, 1931, p. 4. 50 plays which, by virtue of their stage-proven dialogue, were in sudden, ; i enormous demand. The banks in New York supplied this need, but it cost Hollywood more than money; it cost a partial loss of control of the studios to the people, bankers and stockholders, who provided the nec essary cash. The fixed charge obligations of the five largest studios in Hollywood (Fox, M-G-M, Paramount, R-K-0, and Warner Bros.) increased between 1927 and 1930 from $121,846,000 to $409,855,000, an increase of 237% and 288 million dollars.*^ Much of this funding was provided by Eastern money which thereafter insisted on having a voice in the opera tion of the studios. After 1927, the writers, actors, directors, and technicians of Hollywood had new bosses. The talking motion picture brought change to the Screen Writers' Guild also. The decade following the founding of the Guild in 1920 saw the Guild grow in membership from its original 54 to over 200, yet the productivity of those members decreased severely in terms of the Guild's percentage of credits for pictures written in a given year. The 120 members of the Screen Writers' Guild accounted for 22.9% of the pictures which received credits for 1922, as listed by Wid's Year Book, 1921-1922. With 160 members the next year, the Screen Writers' Guild accounted for a remarkable 46.3% of the scenario credits for the year contained in Wid's Year Book, 1922-1923. But the successes of the first years tailed off in succeeding years and in 1928 the Guild ac- 28 Business Week, November 9, 1935, p. 18. 51 counted for 31.5% of the films, only to be followed by the even lower 21.5% total for the films included in The Film Daily 1929 Year Book. The prosperity of the twenties countered the demand for unions of all kinds. Throughout the nation, union membership dropped from over five OQ million in 1920 to three and a half million in 1924. It is not re markable that the Screen Writers' Guild also went into a decline, since many of its original aims were met. By the late twenties, screen writers had, in the main, acheived their goal of gaining screen credit for movies; at least 90% of the movies listed in The Film Daily 1929 Year Book received one or more screen credits for screen writers. The Guild's Grievance Committee did help to meet its goal of securing adequate compensation and recognition for screen writers' efforts, insofar as contractual obligations were concerned anyway. However, the ever-burgeoning onslaught of screen writers imported from the East for their skills in dialogue writing was able to benefit from the Guild's efforts on its behalf without the ne cessity for joining or recognizing the value of the Screen Writers' Guild of the Authors' League of America. The other goals of the Guild (copyright protection for scenarios freedom from film censorship, and more co-operation between motion pic ture producers and the Guild) were largely taken over by the newly es tablished Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences (1927). Both the 29 Florence Peterson, American Labor Unions: What They Are and How They Work (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1944), p. 18. 52 Academy and the M.P.P.D.A. were vitally concerned with the existence of movie censorship and directed strenuous efforts against these pressures The next decade in the history of the Guild is intimately related to the history of the Academy. CHAPTER V THE SCREEN WRITERS' GUILD AND THE ACADEMY In 1927, the same year The Jazz Singer was released, the Academy was formed as the joint brainchild of a director, an actor, and a pro ducer—Fred Niblo, Conrad Nagel, and Louis B. MayerJ Frank Woods, the first Secretary of the Academy and a founder and past President of both the Photoplay Authors' League and the Screen Writers' Guild, described the attitude of the "talent classes" (the writers, actors, and direc tors) toward the Academy in 1927: The Academy came into existence at a time when it seemed like a heaven sent instrument for the welfare of the entire industry. Each of the talent classes had grievances with no medium for their adjustment Some constructive action seemed imperative to halt the attacks [on the industry] and establish the industry in the public mind as a respectable, legitimate institution, and its people as reputable individuals. This point should be borne in mind in estimating the conditions that brought about the birth of the Academy. oIt was in fact the one great incentive on which all could united It is likely that the writers looked upon the Academy as having the same potential function as the ill-fated Federation of Art and the 1 Pierre Sands, "A Historical Study of the Academy of Motion Pic ture Arts and Sciences" (unpublished thesis, University of Southern California, 1967), pp. 33-36. Fred Beetson, another producer, is also credited as being among the founders of the Academy by Frank Woods in The Screen Guilds' Magazine, II, No. 9 (1935), p. 4. ^The Screen Guilds' Magazine, II, No. 9 (1935), p. 4. 53 Screen Drama League, both of which were first formed in 1922. The Acad emy, however, had an organizational advantage over the Federation of Art because its members were individuals, rather than organizations of j individuals. Thus, there were no organizational conflicts of interest between the Academy and the American Federation of Labor as in the case of the Federation. However, the latter organization did not include producers and this vital element in the Academy contributed greatly to the friction which was soon to develop between the Academy and the Screen Writers' Guild. At issue in the conflict between the Academy and the Guild was the purpose of the organization of a labor union. According to the Guild, the Academy was at once more than a union and less than one. It offered to settle disputes within the industry by conciliation and ar bitration, yet could claim neither disinterest nor complete partisan ship for either side of any issue. The Academy, as the Guild often claimed, was split at the fork of its divided interests: the industry and the people in the industry. The Guild had no such divided interests and represented its screen writers' efforts in getting a bigger share of the vast profits earned annually by the movies they wrote. The friction between the Screen Writers' Guild and the Academy was caused in part by their competition for the allegiance of the screen play writers of the motion picture industry. However, it was also caused by the continued allegations of the members of the Guild that the Academy was only a puppet whose strings were pulled by the unseen hands of the producers in the industry. These allegations began: less than two months after the Academy's initial meeting and concerned the role of the Academy in the producers' attempt to instigate a ten per cent reduction in salary for all non-union labor in 1927. In May, the final reports on studio income for the past year were released. They were disappointing. On a reported total invest ment estimated at two and a half billion dollars, the movie industry's profits were declared to be slightly less than fifty million dollars, only a 1.9% return on the total investment.^ The bankers, who had pro vided investment capital for the studios' purchase of theater chains and who had underwritten the installation of sound equipment in theaters and studios as well as the more expensive sound movies, were also sorely disappointed. They insisted that the studios lower their overhead im mediately in order to increase their profit margin. The imminent pros-, pect of the passage of the film quota bill in England offered the very real possibility that if Hollywood did not reduce its overhead, it would not have any profits at all to distribute. Paramount reacted first to the pressure from the East by "re questing" each of its executives to take a salary cut of 25%. ^ At the same time, the producers of Paramount announced a 20-25% pay cut for all employees not holding contracts, saying that the eventual aim was to ^Variety, May 18, 1927, p. 3. ^Variety, June 15, 1927, p. 4. 56 j reduce salaries for all players, writers, and directors by 25% when their contracts ran out.5 The recipients of this pay cut were outraged since the studios' gross incomes were higher than at any point in the history of film and they saw what they considered wastefulness at every: hand. Two weeks later, the Association of Motion Picture Producers re-; sponded to the demands for lower overhead by ordering its member produ cers, the largest studios in Hollywood, to cut the salaries of everyone who earned more than $50 per week by 10 to 25%. The higher your salary, the greater percentage cut would be applicable. The Association,though, was not an independent body. Actually, the producers ordered themselves to impose the salary cuts on their own employees and used the Associa tion to shield them from individual responsibility for the act. Perhaps because they were the first to be cut, the writers and actors at Paramount refused to accept the paycut and insisted on the full salaries specified in their contracts. Actors at Universal also fought the pay cut. Resistence was by no means universal. At M-G-M, the writers accepted the reduction albeit with no little grumbling. This acceptance on their part might well be due to the conference Irving Thai berg and Harry Rapf held shortly before where they told 28 writers for M-G-M that they were not doing their jobs and that they were the ^Ibid., p. 8. 6 Variet,y, June 29, 1927, p. 14. "bane of the existence of the corporation."' 7 As Wei ford Beaton put it ; at the time, "There is not an executive in any studio in Hollywood who does not believe that he knows more than any author on earth does about story values."® It appears that Thai berg's conference shook the confi dence of his writers. The talent classes, including the members of the Guild, charged the producers with wasteful production methods, while they in turn at tributed the high costs of production to excessively high salaries. The Academy offered to intercede between the warring parties "to aid in the adjustment of differences arising from [the salary cut]" and this offer was accepted by the Producers' Association.^ The turmoil created within the Academy was described in an arti cle directed to members of the Screen Writers' Guild and the Screen Actors' Guild some years later: Each talent branch of the Academy held meetings of violent pro test. Outside of the Academy the Screen Writers' Guild was especially vigorous in threats of resistence. Creative workers unattached to any organization were seething with rebellion. It seemed certain that a general strike of all talent would follow any attempt to put the cut into execution.^ ^Variety, June 15, 1927, p. 15. 8 The Film Spectator, III , No. 9 (1927), p. 6. ^Decisions of the NLRB, op. cit., p. 693. I^The Screen Guilds' Magazine, II , No. 9 (1935), p. 4. The role of the Academy as an organization in the succeeding negotiations between the talent classes and the producers is open to question. There is no doubt that the Academy Board of Directors passed a resolution on June 27, 1927, stating that the Academy was "not in sympathy with the movement recently instituted to decrease all salaries in excess of $50.00 per week, without more specific consideration as to the merits or demerits of each individual case."^ The question comes as to the motives of the Academy, or the members of the Academy, in ar guing against the unilateral pay reduction. Pierre Sands suggests that the Academy worked against the wishes of the producers and opposed the I p pay cut. The Guild, on the other hand, attributed the Academy's statement to the producers' attempt to save face in response to a much greater and more unified reaction from their employees than had been expected. "The announcement produced such resentment that in their fright the producers ran for cover to the portals of their newly erec- 13 ted ediface, the Academy." Frank Woods described to the Guild his view of the relationship between the producers and the Academy's reso lution against the pay cut. The producers were thoroughly frightened. It was then that they, sought a means of retreat through the Academy, which the most of them had hitherto despised. They proposed that the Producers' ^Academy Bulletin, No. 3, July 2, 1927, p. 2. ^Sands, 0£. cit., pp. 206-207. ^ 3 The Screen Guilds' Magazine, II , No. 8 (1935), pp. 1-2. 59 Branch of the Academy should hold a series of conferences with other branches, and if ways could be worked out for reducing costs of production sufficiently, the cut would be off. The sneers and laughs that followed in Hollywood will be well remembered. That the producers were whipped and were now seek ing to use the Academy as a smoke screen was too apparent to be questioned.14 Whatever the reasons, the pay cut was withdrawn on July 6,1927,^ by the Producers' Association with the Academy given credit by the As sociation for the money-saving suggestions which prompted the with drawal. Both the Screen Writers' Guild and the Actors' Equity Associa tion claimed credit for those suggestions which helped to rescind the 1 fi pay cut. 10 Wei ford Beaton's sour response to this situation is typical of his adamant stand against the Hollywood producers: The producers are sick and with monkish piety they ask the Ac tors' Equity and Screen Writers' Guild to suggest a remedy for their ills. The only thing more ridiculous than the request was* Equity's and the Guild's compliance with it. Very gravely these organizations outline treatments which will never be read by the producers, who know that they are valueless, for they are but general remedies for specific ills. "Give us an honest cost sheet, if there be such a thing in the industry, and we will point out to you specifically where you squandered the money of ^The Screen Guilds' Magazine, II , No. 9 (1935), pp. 4-5. 15 Variet.y, July 6, 1927, p. 1. 16 Murray Ross, Stars and Strikes: Unionization of Hollywood (New^ York: Columbia University Press, 1941), p. 55. 60 your stockholders," should have been the counter-request of the actors and writers.!? The attempted imposition of the pay cut spurred union activity on the coast among the writers and actors. Actors' Equity, which was affiliated with the American Federation of Labor and was essentially an Eastern organization, made another attempt to organize the actors and actresses in motion pictures because, as they said, "the Academy is fos tered primarily by the producers and will in the end give the breaks to I O [them]." The Screen Writers' Guild passed a resolution to consider uniting with Equity in order to protect each other from the producers' invasion of their rights.^ Despite this activity, or perhaps because of it, the Academy flourished. Hollywood's biggest and most influential personalities joined the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. It garnered in its ranks many of the most prominent writers in Hollywood and stole from the Guild the momentum toward power in the industry which it had thus far gained. Hollywood's actors and writers may have still remem bered the disdain which was voiced against them by the established stage actors and dramatists in earlier days and may have felt disin clined to unite with them at such a time. The incident of the pay cut 1?The Film Spectator, III , No. 11 (1927), p. 3. ^Variety, July 6, 1927, p. 4. 19 T , . , Ibid. i jaundiced many of the members of the talent classes against the Academyi but not sufficiently for them to join with the forces from the East. The Academy itself ignored the rumblings of discontent and con- j tinued to function in the area of labor-management relations. After all the Guild attempts at attaining industry-wide agreement on working standards for writers, it was the Academy which negotiated the first "Writer-Producer Code of Practice" for screen writers. The code of practice was designed by committees appointed by the Writers' and Pro ducers' Branches of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, after Guild members and producers' representatives could not find a com promise on their positions when they met earlier. The code was adopted by the Academy on April 21, 1932 to go into effect on May 1, 1932.^0 The "Writer-Producer Code of Practice" dealt with the financial and work obligations of both the producer and the writer and laid sub stantial guidelines for the mutual determination of screen credit. The code was limited to these areas primarily because the writers and pro ducers had developed such "diverse practices" in other areas open to standardization that they felt it advisable to negotiate these areas 21 only for individual contracts. Even this limited agreement was called op "a great step forward in [the writers' and producers'] relationship" 20 Authors' League Bulletin, XX, No. 1 (1932), p. 12. ^Sands, op_. cit., p. 214. ^Authors' League Bulletin, XX, No. 1 (1932), p. 12. 62 by the editors of the Authors' League Bulletin, but Guild members pri vately had reservations about the agreement since it offered no means of enforcement of its conditions. Be that as it may, Murray Ross, in his history of the labor movement in Hollywood, Stars and Strikes, said: of the code: "With the possible exception of the Academy Free-Lance Actor Contract, this writer-producer code was given more conscientious study and discussion than any other agreement ever made between crea tive employees and the studios. With positive results, such as the Writer-Producer Code, coming from the Academy, it would seem that the screen writers and the Guild would look favorably toward the industry-wide organization. Instead, the Guild looked with hostility and suspicion toward the Academy, ac cepting such benefits as the Code as mere tokens to quiet the more vig orous protests coming from the Guild members. The Guild members were not alone in their protests. The ubiqui tous Wei ford Beaton, as early as 1927, urged that in the absence of an Academy functioning in its members' interests, each branch represented in the Academy ought to form its own organization. If the Academy had not been kidnapped by the producers there would be no need for any other organization. Theoretically it offers all branches of the industry a forum for the discussion of their interests and a court to deal them justice, but when it made its first effort to live up to its high ideals it went over, 23 Ross, 0£. cit., p. 59. 63 | body and soul, to the producers and assisted them in perpetuating a rank fraud on their employees. 2 ^ The complacent employees of Hollywood's studios appeared firmly to believe Herbert Hoover's assurances, "we in America are nearer to the final triumph over poverty than ever before in the history of any land." The American Society of Cinematographers, the cameramen's counterpart of the Screen Writers' Guild, succeeded in negotiating a five-year con tract containing minimum wage and working condition agreements during the summer before the stock market crash of 1929. The signing of this contract, which stipulated a closed shop for Hollywood cameramen, a min imum wage of $50 per day or $200 per week, and a 54-hour maximum work 25 week, initiated the beginning of yet another major attempt by Equity to organize Hollywood's actors and actresses. Actors' Equity demanded a closed shop for talking motion pictures (only Equity members allowed in talkies) and relied on its new strength in the numbers of former stage actors who were in Hollywood due to the new development of the talking picture. Despite threats of blacklists of movie players who might wish future roles on the stage, and more subtle intimidations, the majority of the actors in the movie colony still preferred to depend upon the Academy. After three months of fruitless contention, Equity rescinded its prohibition of Equity members signing non-Equity contracts 24 The Film Spectator, IV , No. 6 (1927), p. 4. ^Variety, May 8, 1929, p. 23. 64 26 and Hollywood continued its steady move to prosperity. Then came the Crash. The full effects of the Great Depression were not to hit Holly wood until 1933. However, the movie industry was having its hands full trying to deal successfully with the forces set in motion prior to the Crash. Movie attendance was still quite high and it competed with base ball for the nickels of the nation's unemployed. Baseball gate re- 27 ceipts hit a record high in 1930 due to unemployment and the growing number of persons unaccustomed to leisure in the daytime. Nevertheless, movie theaters' profits sagged unmercifully. Although attendance was high, the price of tickets dropped considerably in the theater owners' competition with one another for the little cash available. Many thea ter owners had extended themselves financially too far in 1927-28 when sound came in and they were still paying for property and equipment at 1927 prices in the midst of the Depression. Thousands of theaters were closed. The studios' incomes were also hit hard and cries for economies were issued loudly. The unions came into prominence because some had negotiated long-term contracts specifying wages to be paid their members The I.AiT.S.E. and the A.S.C. come particularly to mind in this regard. variety, May 22, 1929 through August 21, 1929. ^Variety, August 27, 1930, p. 1. 65 ; A story exemplifying the producers' plight went the rounds in 1930. An independent producer going out of business wailed that exor bitant salaries were the cause of his failure. "Yep, actors cost money," commented a friend. j "Actors!" croaked the producer, "they're a dime a dozen. It was the cameraman and his $200 a week that killed me."28 The independent movie producers were among the biggest sufferers! in Hollywood. The tremendous expense of the production of sound movies, combined with decreased revenues from abroad and the more limited do mestic market, worked against independent feature movie production. The big studios—Warner Bros., M-G-M, Paramount, United Artists, Fox, R-K-0, and Universal--continued to make money because they began to reduce their overhead judiciously and because millions of people still went to the movies each week. The total box office draw in 1930 declined only on eight per cent from the outstanding income year of 1929. 3 The studios cut their overhead, first, by hiring their people where possible for one picture contracts instead of six or twelve month contracts. Writers were particularly affected by this economy measure as writing staffs for the major studios were systematically trimmed of all but the most valued screen writers. The merger of Warner Brothers with First Nation al displaced many writers and the salaries of those who remained were ^Variety, August 13, 1930, p. 2. ^Variety, November 19, 1930, p. 5. 66 j reduced. The supply of talented writers was greater than the demand for them. Consequently, their salaries declined. Salaries also de clined when a studio instituted a universal salary cut due to poor busi4 ness conditions. United Artists cut salaries by 10% for all employees on who earned over $30 per week. Evidently, the economies worked tem porarily because, as Variety reported, the motion picture industry was the only industry among America's top thirty which, as a whole, showed a profit in both 1929 and 1930. The motion picture picture was not so rosy in 1931 and thereaf ter. In order to offset declining revenues, the studios cut the number of people on their payrolls drastically; Warner Brothers let 900 em- Op ployees go in the first half of 1931. In May, 1931, many studios slashed at the salaries of their employees: Universal cut salaries over $150 per week by 25%; Paramount cut those over $500 by 25% and Warner Bros, set up a sliding scale of salary cuts. These cuts included the salaries of both contract and non-contract personnel. I.A.T.S.E. ad vised its members that, due to business conditions, they ought to ac- cept the cuts imposed by the studios. The Academy was called in to •^Variety, October 8, 1930, p. 26. Variety, May 27, 1931, p. 12. 32 Ibid., p. 4. 33 Ibid., p. 11. 67 34 help the studios cut their expenditures. Again the Academy was asso ciated with the producers against the talents and technicians of Holly wood. In June, both Fox and R-K-0 assured their employees that they would get no cut in pay, but within four months each studio announced a percentage reduction in salaries. The salary cuts were not accepted willingly by many employees. Those without contracts had little choice but to accept the cuts, but those with contracts and union members with contracts opposed the cuts. In particular, the agents actively advised 35 their clients against taking any cut in pay. This intransigence frustrated the producers' efforts until the end of the year (1931), when the lowest stock prices in years exerted new pressures from the East for stringent economies. Producers from Fox, R-K-0, Warner Brothers, and Paramount held secret meetings under the cover of the annual Academy Awards banquet. After the banquet, the producers announced a pay cut of an additional 10 to 25% and the joint resolution to refuse to negotiate with any person who would not acceed to the salary slash. In the face of the growing public outrage at the high salaries of movie figures and the firmness of the producers' new positions, this pay cut announcement was accepted with few com- 3 ^Variety, May 20, 1931, p. 5. ^Variety, June 2, 1931, p. 4. ^Variety, December 1, 1931, p. 3. 68 o7 plaints. The producers, who had expected a fight, were pleasantly | surprised and proceeded to cut the Hollywood talent budget for the com- OO ing year from 24 million dollars to 19 million dollars. Significant ly, rumors began to stir that further cuts were planned. Once again, the Academy was associated with another pay cut,even though the mechanism of the Academy was not utilized in any way. The Guild's hostility toward the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Scie. ences was generated not so much by what the Academy did as by what it did not do. Much of the Academy's activities were financially supported by the Motion Picture Producers' Association and it was continually linked by inference, if not by fact, to actions which were detrimental to the interests of the actors, directors, writers, and technicians of Hollywood. At the same time, the members of the Academy were among the most prosperous and successful of the people in the movie business and, quite naturally, their interests often coincided with those of their employers. They many times tended toward a conservatism inclined to maintaining the status quo. Thus, the antagonism between the Guild and the Academy was in part fostered by the tension between contract em ployees and free-lance employees or, one might say, the haves and have- nots, and it was aggravated by the many tensions between employer and employee. This continued friction within and without the Academy grew ^Variety, December 8, 1931, p. 46. ^Variety, December 22, 1931 , p. 3. 69 in an atmosphere charged with unrest and uncertainty due to the pre vailing lean economic conditions. Irving Thai berg was quoted as wish ing to preserve the Academy so as to keep the industry free from strengthening the talent organizations, such as Equity and the Screen Writers' Guild.^ Continued pay cuts and the prospect of the M.P.P.D.A further uniting the producers' policies added more heat to the issue. In 1932, block booking was once again legalized as a "fair" business practice and the producers in the M.P.P.D.A. successfully concluded an agreement indicating to some degree their unity of interest. They agreed not to lure stars away from other studios by offering them high er salaries or increased benefits. This so-called "anti-raiding" agree ment was to be supervised by the M.P.P.D.A. All major film producers 40 signed except R-K-0 and Columbia. The implications of collusion and monopoly are fascinating, but they were allowed by the government be cause the nation supported nearly anything which allowed big business to prosper. The movie business had to cut overhead in order to survive. Fox studios, which had declared a profit of over ten million dollars in 41 1930, lost over four million in 1931. The studios which had invested most heavily in the expension of their theater chains immediately be- 39 Variet.y, June 21 , 1932, p. 7. ^Variety, February 16, 1932, p. 4. ^Variety, April 5, 1932, p. 21. 70 fore the Depression were the heaviest hit because the theaters still had to be paid for. These payments were part of the studio overhead. Movie personnel felt that their salaries were earned by the expenditurei of their talents and that salary cuts were merely the easiest way to reduce overhead and neither the best way, nor the fairest. Neverthe- 42 less, even mighty M-G-M was forced into the pay cut situation. Para mount, at the same time, announced a third pay cut. On the whole, the pay cuts proved unsuccessful in reducing overhead, but they did tend to establish a belligerence between producer and employee which had never really existed before. The studios were desperate. Only M-G-M and AO Columbia were able to claim profitable years in 1932. Columbia bene fited largely because it had no theaters to eat up its profits on mov ies. R-K-0 and Paramount went into receivership, not because the stu dios were losing money, but because the corporations which owned the studios and the movie theaters and vaudeville theaters were. The producers again went to the Academy in search of film econo mies in 1933. This time they looked for technical economies which threatened no one's income, but at the same time they asked for a com mittee to be established by the Academy to investigate the contract sys tem in Hollywood.^ The inference was made that the studios were con- ^ 2 Variet.y, April 26, 1932, p. 5. ^Variety, January 3, 1933, p. 4. ^Variety, January 31 , 1933, p. 9. sidering the abolishment of such contracts in the future. In 1933, the; Depression officially came to Hollywood and it was the Academy committee which led the way. Throughout the nation, in industries of all kinds and sizes, peoples' foremost fear was the loss of their employment.^ 5 The contract was the only form of job security most of Hollywood's ac tors, directors, and writers had known for years. They could survive pay cuts and reduced salaries due to business conditions--even though the movies they made earned profits--, but, they asked, where would they be without a contract? It was a question which engaged the emotions of all but the most renowned in the business whose public popularity in sured continued substantial salaries with or without a contract. Emo tions in Hollywood were at a high point. Then Fox Studios announced a universal salary cut of 10-15% for : all employees, regardless of contractual obligations, and, for the first time, large numbers of writers and directors simply packed up their per sonal items and left the studio declaring that they would work there no longer. The craft unions threatened to walk out en masse if their con- AC tracted salaries were cut again. The sanctity of the labor contract was in serious question and the Academy, which provided the sanction for the committee investigating the institution of the studio contract, could do nothing for the industry's members. The Academy's role in 4c Foster Rhea Dulles, Labor in America: A History (New York: Thomas Y. Crowell Co., 1949), p. 244. ^Variety, February 21 , 1933, p. 4. 72 labor-management negotiations was becoming more and more untenable. It was now no longer able even to claim that it could ease the frictions between the various members of the industry. Indeed, it even was con tributing to the unrest. These frictions were to develop through a kind of spontaneous, internal combustion into a flame which all but swept the industry—a flame of creative talent unionism. The specific spark which caused this flame was the announcement by President Franklin D. Roosevelt of a nation-wide bank moratorium in March, 1933. Previous to the announcement, there had been bank morato riums in a number of states which, reportedly, had adversely affected the box office grosses of the industry by one million dollars per day.^ The closing of the banks of the entire country produced visions of in stant financial catastrophe, of losses beyond coping. It is not with out irony that the same week produced the bank moratorium, a major earth quake which struck the city of Long Beach (just south of Hollywood), and the studios' declaration of a giant wage cut of 50% to all salaries of $50 or more per week retroactive to March 4. It is questionable which shook the residents of Hollywood more, the closing of the banks, the earthquake, or their anger at the fifty per cent reduction in their take home pay. Due to the Depression, the banks in America were in a particu larly strange position. In 1927 and before, the banks had loaned their ^Variety, March 14, 1933, p. 2. 73 depositors' money to corporations, companies, and individuals providing a great deal of the fuel which ran the financial boom of the twenties. After the Crash, many banks were squeezed for capital to satisfy the de mands of their clients. The money deposited in a savings account for a rainy day was reinvested by the bank to earn the interest which paid the depositor his interest and provided the operating expenses of the banks along with their profits. By 1933, more and more frequently the banks were not getting loan payments due them on their loans. Foreclosing on the loan gave them property as an asset but no cash. At the same time, the banks were at their lowest point in cash reserves, their customers reached a peak of unemployment and resorted to withdrawing funds from their savings accounts. The "rainy day" had arrived and many banks were on the verge of collapse. In 1930, 1,352 banks with deposits of $853,363,000 were forced out of business; in 1931, 2,294 banks with deposits of $1,690,699,000 failed, and in 1932, 1,456 banks with deposits of $715,626,000 closed their doors. 8 Though many banks could balance their books to the penny and their as sets met or exceeded their liabilities, their assets were not suffi ciently liquid to deal with the crisis at hand. It did not take more than a small rumor to close a bank. Each bank closure made even the sounder banks suspect and they too could not long withstand a run on the 4Q Harry J. Carman and Harold C. Syrett, A History of the American People, II (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1958), pp. 522-523. 74 bank. Everything was fine for the banks so long as their depositors were putting money in the banks. Taking it out again was another mat ter. Many banks in the nation were in trouble in the first three months of 1933. To forestall a kind of domino pattern of bank closures, some twenty-two state governments joined Nevada and closed their banks by de claring a "bank holiday" to give them time to get extra cash and to al low people time to quell their panic at the thought of losing their sav ings. In some respects, the state moratoriums merely added to the panic and Roosevelt was forced into the nation-wide bank moratorium which he explained to the public the next week in his first "fireside chat." With available funds significantly reduced to all industries be cause of the moratorium, studio officials faced the prospect of shutting down the operation of the studios. They introduced a 50% salary cut for all employees in an effort to keep production going. Their theaters presented them with an insatiable demand for film product and the stu dios could not afford to let their corporate owners down. A very real complaint against the pay cut proposal was that the corporations which owned the studios did not wait to see what effect the national morato rium would have, but acted immediately to cut their employees' sala- 49 ries. Indeed, one studio suspended all its contract personnel by in voking a national emergency clause in their contracts.^ One, I pre- ^The Screen Guilds' Magazine, II, No. 8 (1935), p. 2. S^Sands, op. cit., pp. 216-217. 75 ! sume, which had no theaters to supply, like United Artists. i This move was the most drastic of any industry in the country in: reaction to the bank moratorium,^ but there were two factors contribu -i ting to the institution of the pay cut which were unique to the indus try. The movie industry had already seen what the earlier state bank moratoriums had done to its box office grosses and thought that it could extrapolate that decline into fiscal disaster. At the same time, the studios were looking for a good excuse to, once and for all, cut the costs of creative talent in the movie industry to a more manageable level. Workers claimed that the "studios took advantage of the bank 52 situation which climaxed their financial difficulties," and certainly the producers' assertion that the pay cut might extend indefinitely seems to support the workers' claim. Variety reported that in 1931 the motion picture annual payroll totalled 156 million dollars, but that after the general 50% pay cut, in addition to other pay cuts then in 53 effect, the total annual payroll was down to 50 million dollars. The response to the studios' decisions by the studios' employees was forthright. The members of the International Alliance of Theatri- 54 cal Stage Employees resolutely refused to accept any cut in pay. The 51 Variety, March 14, 1933, p. 5. 52 Variety, March 14, 1933, p. 25. S^Ibid., p. 7. ^1934-1935 Motion Picture Almanac, no editor (New York: Quigley Publishing Co., 1935), p. 1110. 76 writers responded by reorganizing the Screen Writers' Guild in such a dramatic fashion that for years the Guild pointed to 1933 as the first year of its existence. The character of the newly reorganized Guild is indicated by its proposed new name, the Dramatists' Guild of Screen Writers. In a meet- 1 ing on March 28, 1933, some of the writers met to form this guild call ing for arbitration on any and all changes in a completed script "to enable writers to keep their individualities in stories they have been 55 assigned to." In order to insure a united front against the producers, the writers suggested that each writer post an indemnity bond of $250 which would be forfeited if the member broke the agreed upon rules of the organization. These rules were to include a firm stand against any pay cuts and insistence that its writers withdraw from the Academy of 56 Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. The next day, the re-organization of the Screen Writers' Guild itself began in response to the Dramatists' Guild of Screen Writers 5 ^ and to the producers' demand that writers give up half the pay they would normally expect for work they performed. The members of the Guild present at the meeting that day were the Guild's President, Howard J. Green, Jane Murfin, Dudley Nichols, Ralph Block, Alfred Cohn, Frank Woods, Vernon Smith, Oliver H.P. Garrett, and Tom ^Variety, March 28, 1933, p. 4. 56 Ibid. 57i am in debt for much information on the reorganization of the Guild to an article written by Mary C. McCall, Jr., "A Brief History of the Guild," The Screen Writer, III , No. 11 (1948), pp. 25-31. 77 ! I Geraghty. They agreed to engage two attorneys, Ewell D. Moore and Lawrence Beilenson, to draft a new constitution and by-laws for the Guild, along with a new contract to be signed by the new members of the; new Guild. On April 5, 1933, the completed constitution and by-laws were approved by the same members with the addition of Gerrit Lloyd. They were to be presented to the general membership of the old Guild the next day. At that meeting, John Howard Lawson was elected the new President of the Guild. Other elected officers of the newly reorganized Guild included Frances Marion, Vice-president; Joseph Mankiewicz, Secretary; and Ralph Block, Treasurer. There could hardly have been a more pres tigious group of screen writers chosen as officers for a screen writers' organization. Lawson represented a compromise between the conservative body of screen writers on the right and the members of the Dramatists' Guild of Screen Writers on the left. Oliver Garrett, Louis Weitzenkorn, and Howard Lawson were nominated for the presidency of the Screen Wri ters' Guild, but Garrett, representing the conservatives, and Weitzen korn of the liberals withdrew their nominations in favor of Lawson, since his role was considered to be the unifier of the members of the 57 Guild on both sides. Lawson was elected by acclamation. The first Annual Meeting of the Guild did more than select new officers. The new constitution and by-laws were introduced to the gen- ^Variety, April 11 , 1933, p. 4. 78 eral membership and were unanimously adopted. The contract drawn up by the Guild attorneys was also signed that day by 102 of the new Guild's 275 members.^ The contract called for the drawing up of a Code of Working Rules, each article of which was to be approved by at least seventy-five per cent of the membership. Each of the 102 screen wri ters who signed the contract agreed to donate $100 to the Guild to be used as the Board of Directors^ saw fit and made himself liable to ex pulsion from the Guild and punitive damages up to $10,000 for any vio lation of the contract. He further agreed not to enter into any con tract of employment (single picture contracts excepted) between April 7, 1933 and May 31, 1933, which called upon his services past May 31 of that year. It appears that this last provision of the contract served two purposes for the Screen Writers' Guild: it gave members time to formulate a new code of conduct for writers, the Code of Working Rules; and it stopped writers from signing long-term contracts as pro ducers traditionally attempted to thwart strike threats by signing the most prominent screen writers to long term, very lucrative contracts. The Board of the Screen Writers' Guild at its first meeting (April 7, 1933) affirmed that any invited writer who had paid the nec essary $100 initiation fee and had signed the 1933 contract automatic- 58 Ibid. 59 Lawson, Marion, Mankiewicz, Block, Oliver H. P. Garrett, Louis Weitzenkorn, Lawrence Stallings, Dudley Nichols, Grover Jones, Howard J. Green, and James Creel man. 79 ally became a member of the Guild, as the contract had specified. It further noted that there were then 173 charter members of the new Screen Writers' Guild and it appointed the members of the Code Committee to cn draft suggested provisions in the Code of Working Rules. It comes as no surprise that the first article proposed by the Code Committee dealt with the subject of general pay cuts, such as the one the writers were then enduring. The Board approved the Article on April 24 and it was promptly submitted to the Guild's membership for a vote. This article, known as Article 1, was passed by more than 75% of the membership on June 14 along with the second and third articles of the Code,which respectively outlawed the use of a general booking agency by Guild members and forbade a Guild member working in collaboration with a non-Guild member on any screen play. Although the Screen Writers' Guild remained officially a part of the Authors' League of America, it incorporated in the State of Cali fornia as the Screen Writers' Guild of California, a fact not generally known to its members. The re-organization of the Guild effectively severed the time-weakened and distance-weakened ties between the League and the Guild. Henceforward, members of the Guild were frequently not members of the League and the Guild's reports to the League of its ac- The members of the Code Committee were Samual Ornitz (Chair man), Jane Murfin, Harvey Thew, Doris Anderson, Rupert Hughes, Oliver Garrett, Robert Riskin, Bert Kalmar, Howard J. Green, Samuel Behrman, John Bright, Malcolm Stuart Boy!an, Houston Branch, Stuart Anthony, and E.E. Paramore, Jr. tivities, even at the League's annual meetings, were increasingly spo radic. Soon after his election as President of the Guild (August 21, 1933), John Howard Lawson called upon his fellow Guild members to re sign from the Academy in protest of its handling of the 50% pay cut pro posal j®"' because the Academy had administered the reduction in pay for the employees of the studios. CO The Academy established a Salary Waiver Emergency Committee and strongly recommended that the salary waivers be limited to a period of eight weeks, a recommendation which was followed by the producers. The Academy also advised that the salary waiver ought to be required only of the more highly paid employees ($1,000 per week or more) of the 63 studios: the executives, directors, writers, and actors. The Academy thereby avoided a direct confrontation with the more effectively organ ized labor unions, such as the International Alliance of Theatrical Stage Employees, which could threaten an industry-wide strike to sup port their positions. The leadership of the Screen Writers' Guild did not let writers forget this fact in the Guild's drive for members in later years. The Guild stressed the need for a rigidly cohesive organ ization, united against the producers in the movie industry. The Guild ^McCall, o£. cit., p. 27. CO Former Guild President, Howard J. Green, represented writers on the committee. Ross, £2.. cit., p. 46. wanted its members to quit the Academy, not only because it was active in enforcing the salary cut, but also because it did not oppose the cut more effectively. Although the Academy recommended that those persons whose sala ries were cut for the eight weeks be reimbursed at a later date, the writers complained years later that they had never received their back 64 pay. They also complained that the studio executives had received compensatory bonuses in lieu of back pay, while the writers had re ceived no such bonus. The unwillingness of the studios to follow the Academy's recommendations and the Academy's equal inability insist on compliance with those recommendations led writers to rely more heavily on the Screen Writers' Guild as their representative. The Guild, at least, had the possibility of striking to enforce its demands if its membership were large enough. In addition, Sands suggests that the cor porate owners of the studios may have felt more at ease dealing with the Guilds in Hollywood than with the Academy which, one might say, was neither fish nor fowl. This re-birth of the Guild in 1933 triggered a vigorous increase in its membership. On April 7, 1933, the Guild had 173 charter mem bers; ten months later, in February, 1934, the Guild claimed 343 active members, which was by far the largest membership total in its fourteen- ^The Screen Guilds' Magazine, II , No. 8 (1935), p. 2. 65 Sands, 0£. cit., p. 218. year history. By July, 1934, it was publishing its own magazine, The ; Screen Writers' Magazine, ar)d claimed 640 members and 90% of the writers in the industry. The rapidly growing Guild did not find its growth unhampered. Some producers in the movie industry called mass meetings of studio con tract writers and other employees. Irving Thalberg, mighty producer at M-G-M, vilified the writers' attempts at organization before other stu dio employees, saying, "Those writers are living like kings. Why on fi7 earth would they want to join a union, like coal miners or plumbers?" Louis B. Mayer, co-founder of the Academy and executive producer at M-G-M, threatened to release all Guild members from their contracts with his studio.®^ As M-G-M was the largest studio in the industry and the largest employer of contract writers, this was no minor threat. On the other hand, Harry Cohn, executive producer for Columbia, presented few, if any, obstacles to the unionization of the writers in his em- 69 ploy. Perhaps Cohn's reaction was determined somewhat by the rela tively small scale of his studio in comparison to the mammoth M-G-M. But, with or without obstacles, the membership rolls of the Guild con- ^The Screen Writers' Magazine, I , No. 1 (1934), p. 1. 6?Bob Thomas, Thalberg: Life and Legend (Garden City: Doubleday and Co., 1969), p. 267] 6^The Screen Writer, III, No. 11 (1948), p. 27. ^Bob Thomas, King Cohn: The Life and Times of Harry Cohn (New York: G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1967), p. 146. : I ! I 83 ! tinued to grow: in October, 1934, the Guild claimed 750 members. Clear-k ly, the reorganized Guild spoke more eloquently to the recognized needs of Hollywood's screen writers. The screen writers led the way for the unionization of the crea tive talent in Hollywood. The successful formation of the new Screen Writers' Guild eventually brought about the organization of the actors and the movie directors along the same lines, each independent of the other and, in point of fact, independent of any ties with Eastern tal ent organizations. The Screen Writers' Guild, the Screen Actors' Guild, and the Screen Directors' Guild are perhaps unique among labor unions. In the past, the creative talents could not band together effectively because of the great disparity of treatment they received at the hands of the various studios and because, no matter how poorly they thought they were being treated, they were making more money in the movies than they ever thought they could. The corporate owners of the studios of ten pointed to the newspaper reporter origins of many of the screen wri ters saying that they formerly earned $90 a week for a twelve-hour day, and now earned $200 to $1,000 a week and complained! They bitched all the way to the bank.^ In 1933, the talents found a common interest peculiar to unions in the movies—maintaining the status quo. Whereas other unions were organized to fight for better wages and better work ing conditions, the primary bonding agent for the unions of creative ^Variety, April 15, 1931, pp. 3 and 78. 84 talents was their interest in keeping things at least the way they were and only incidentally in improving working conditions in the industry. The creative talent guilds were originally conceived and organized as defensive entities. The actors banded together into the Screen Actors' Guild (S.A.G.) primarily to protect the extras and little known bit players from the producers. Eddie Cantor was explicit, though perhaps not entirely can did, on this point, speaking as the first President of the Screen Ac tors' Guild: "The big fellow doesn't need protection in the clinches. It's the little guy that needs a referee to watch for butting and back- handing."^ However, S.A.G. protested first against the studios' anti-; raiding agreements and official limitations of stars' salaries, both of which were directly concerned with featured players rather than extras and bit players. S.A.G. protected the interests of the "big fellow," too. The withdrawal of many of the writers from the Academy, followed by the many resignations by members of the Actors' Branch of the Acad emy brought considerable doubt as to the continued existence of the Academy. Its role in the pay-cut affair had already brought about sweeping changes—even before the many resignations further weakened its influence in Hollywood. Because the Board of Directors of the Academy approved the pay cut on its own prerogative, without consulting the ^The Screen Guilds' Magazine, I , No. 11 (1935), p. 12. 85 | rest of the members of the Academy, the power of the Board was severely! limited. The Academy cut its ties with the Motion Picture Producers' Association by refusing any further subsidy from that body in an attempt to keep the Academy a viable force in Hollywood. It also abridged its : 72 arbitration services to its members only. All of these actions were made in an attempt to give credence to its claim that it was not simply! a pawn of the producers as many of its detractors proclaimed. The spawning of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences in 1927 caused in part the atrophy of the old Screen Writers' Guild. It is an irony suited to the movies that the revitalization of the Screen Writers' Guild began the beginning of the end of the first stage in the history of the Academy. The first stage came to an end soon after the passage of the National Industrial Recovery Act and the resulting com- ; ing to prominence of the three new guilds. ^Variety, May 2, 1933, p. 2. CHAPTER VI THE SCREEN WRITERS' GUILD UNDER THE NATIONAL INDUSTRIAL RECOVERY ACT It was not simply re-organization which provided the impetus for; such remarkable growth in the Screen Writers' Guild. The entire labor movement in the United States received a significant advance with Con gress' enactment of the National Industrial Recovery Act (N.I.R.A.) un der the administration of the newly inaugurated President, Franklin Delano Roosevelt. In his Congressional Message of May 17, 1933, Roosevelt called upon Congress for the formation of the National Recovery Administration (N.R.A.) and his request was quickly granted. The N.I.R.A. was signed into law on June 16, 1933. As its name implies, the National Industrial Recovery Act was designed to promote the welfare of American industries, and the people employed thereby, in a time of crisis. It was not directed primarily toward the betterment of the working conditions for the industries' em ployees, though this was accomplished in part. Rather the Act called for codes of "fair competition" to be drawn up by each of over five hun dred industries. These codes were written to protect the industries from the effects of destructive competition in order to encourage the economic recovery of these industries from the ravages of the Depression 86 The anti-trust laws against this type of agreement between "competitors were relaxed during the emergency and the result was compared to the infamous German cartels. Those cartels were not so infamous during the administration of the N.I.R.A. The N.I.R.A. gave governmental sanction to the trade association movement of the twenties. The trade associations were encouraged by Herbert Hoover while he was Secretary of Commerce and soon nearly every major industry and many minor ones featured such a group which tended to establish uniformity in cost accounting and financial reporting, standardization of products, and to prohibit "unfair trade practices."1 Incidentally, prices for their products and the industry's profits had a tendency to rise also. In the movie industry, the Motion Picture Pro' ducers 1 Association, and the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors of America of which it was a part, acted in much the same fashion as trade associations. After the industry was ordered to conform to the rules of the N.I.R.A., the Producers' Association led the effort to for mulate the N.R.A. Motion Picture Code much to the dismay of the actors and writers of Hollywood who had, at most, an advisory status in the Code's preparation. In disgust at the revival of the Screen Writers' Guild and the organization of the Screen Actors' Guild, Lester Cowan, the Secretary of the Academy, was quoted to the effect that the talents in Hollywood could have had more effect if they had united behind the ^Lester V. Chandler, America's Greatest Depression, 1929-1941 (New York: Harper and Row, 1970), p. 226. 88 Academy. Those Atlantic coast baddies found their opportunity to write their own ticket into the [N.R.A. Motion Picturel code as a re sult of a lack of front by the creative talent which was too busy fighting among itself to combat as a unit the producer influence in Washington.^ The prospect of the creative talents lining up behind the same Academy from which they had recently bolted was slim to say the least. All the more so since one of the foremost features of the N.I.R.A., as far as labor was concerned, was its encouragement of employees to bar gain collectively through labor organizations. The encouragement came principally from the fact that the federal government had established, in the now famous Section 7 (a) of the Act, the legal right of employees in an industry to organize and bargain with their employers; a right first confirmed on a large scale only the year before by the Norris- LaGuardia Act of 1932. At this stage in labor's fight for industrial recognition, the right to organize in a union of one's choice was being actively contested between employers and their employees throughout the United States. In the movie industry, the many skilled and un-skilled employees rushed to join the unions for which they were eligible. Among these, the writers were members of but one profession among many, but their unionization was the most bitterly contested in the industry. The preliminary Motion Picture Code of the N.R.A. made three ^Variety, October 31, 1933, p. 7. 89 stipulations, among many others, each of which restrained writers and actors from bargaining for the highest possible salaries. The first provision prohibited producers from luring away another producer's em ployee by offering him a higher salary or increased benefits. This was known as the anti-raiding provision of the N.R.A. Motion Picture Code. It also included a clause binding an employee to a producer for sixty days after his contract had run out, which is roughly equivalent to the "reserve clause" in major league professional baseball. The second pro vision was to establish a body to license agents who would be allowed to deal with the different studios of the industry. The implication of this provision was that the studios would only deal with those agents who did not bargain too strongly for higher salaries for their clients, who were primarily actors and writers. The third provision was to es tablish a salary fixing board to limit large salaries and to fine any producer who did not follow the rules of the board.^ The producers were charged at the time with trying to reinstate by indirection the salary cut imposed after the bank moratorium of 1933. ...the producers attempted in three different ways to put through a salary cut--and a permanent salary cut--by attempting to do away with competitive bidding for talent in the Motion Picture Industry. 5 3 The Screen Guilds' Magazine, III , No. 2 (1936), p. 3. ^Academy Bulletin, No. 25, August 28, 1933. 5 The Screen Guilds' Magazine, III , No. 2 (1936), p. 3. 90 Certainly it was this same competitive bidding for unique creative tal ent with its resulting higher salaries and lower profits which was one of the most visible targets of the whole National Industrial Recovery Act. The actors and the writers showed no signs of sympathy with the idea behind the N.I.R.A., perhaps because the movie industry was af fected less seriously than many other industries and certainly because their own livelihoods were to be affected. The possibility that these provisions of the N.R.A. Motion Pic ture Code would be applied to contractual relationships between actors and producers or writers and producers urged a united effort against them by the Screen Actors' Guild and the Screen Writers' Guild. The two guilds shared their legal counsel in their efforts against the Mo tion Picture Code.^ Symbolic of this united effort was their jointly published The Screen Guilds' Magazine (begun April, 1934) which rallied both writers and actors toward their common goal, the banishment of the above-mentioned objectionable provisions of the Code and recognition by the producers of their status as collective bargaining representatives. Knowing that the American public would not be in sympathy with the writers' and actors' antagonism to pay cuts and salary limitations in an era typified by deprivation, the Guilds pressured the producers for provisions in the Code required better working conditions, includ ing an eight-hour work day for actors and contracts calling for fewer ^Ross, ojd. ci t., pp. 175-176. 91 scripts per year from contract writers. 7 Executives from both guilds went to Washington to argue their causes. The President of the Screen Writers' Guild, John Howard Lawson, went both to New York and Washing ton. S.A.G.'s President, Eddie Cantor, along with Will Rogers, visited F.D.R. urging him to use his influence against the dreaded provisions of the Code.® On August 24, 1933, after a general membership meeting of the Screen Writers' Guild, it was announced that the Guild would fight the proposed Code written by the motion picture producers. The Guild was quoted in the New York Times as saying, In the document as printed here the producer [sic] seeks [sic] to perpetuate through government agency their own private agree ment to eliminate a free and fair market for all talent." Lawson received a telegram from the Executive Board of the Guild on September 20, while he was in Washington. It specified the aims of the Guild in the negotiations on the provisions of the Code: compulsory ar bitration on individual writer disputes, collective bargaining with the Guild to represent writers, elimination of the Academy, and the estab lishment of a Code Authority with employees represented equally with ^Variety, October 31, 1933, p. 57. ^Variety, November 21, 1933, p. 3. ^New York Times, August 25, 1933, p. 8. 92 employers and the power to enforce its decisions. 10 Needless to say, since the writers could only make suggestions for the Code and had no power at all to make its will be heeded, the Guild did not achieve its ends. Whife Variety announced the imminent formation of the Screen Directors' Guild, John Howard Lawson was urging the Screen Actors' Guild and the Writers' Guild to strike if the vilified articles in the Code were retained; Lawson proclaimed, We're going to fight. We won't allow them to place the burden for all their waste and inefficiency on the creative talent which is responsible for every dollar brought into the box office. 11 Perhaps significantly, the firebrand Lawson had encouraged a similar hard-line approach in a later Dramatists' Guild strike and was virtu ally ignored by that Guild's administration and membership. The actors and writers wired President Roosevelt with their complaints about the 12 present structure of the Motion Picture Code. The N.R.A. Motion Picture Code was in Washington, with all three provisions intact, awaiting Roosevelt's signature in November, 1933, while the Authors' League of America agitated public sentiment through 10 The Screen Writer, III, No. 11 (1948), p. 27. ^Variety, October 17, 1933, p. 7. 12 Variet,y, May 27, 1936, p. 51. a vast publicity campaign against the Code. Considerable support for the screen writers was developed in this manner, so much so that the two guilds were grudgingly offered token recognition if they would ac cept the Code as written. They were offered the opportunity to have representatives on the committees set up by the Code which were to draft specific recommendations for standards of fair working practices for the two talent classes involved. The two committees, comprised on the one hand of five writers and five producers, and on the other of five actors and five producers were known to the movie world as five- by-five conmittees. The guilds accepted this offer and Roosevelt signed the N.R.A. Motion Picture Code on November 27, 1933. The formal National Recovery Administration, Motion Picture Code was received by the Guild body in December, 1933. The reaction was both resigned and determined: It is the opinion of the Executive Board that although there are some provisions in the Motion Picture Code...which the Board believes to be unfair and prejudicial to the interests of em ployees generally, that nevertheless the Board...intends to cooperate to the best of its ability under the terms of the Code as it is laid down, and take such advantage of its provisions as, will allow them to better the conditions of employees generally. Prior to December, 1933, the writers and actors had already lived with part of the provisions of the Code through the actions and constraints of the M.P.P.D.A. and the Motion Picture Producers' Asso- ^The Screen Writer, III, No. 11 (1948), p. 28. 94 ciation. Both guilds were eager to avoid any further familiarity with them as they restricted their members' potential for higher salaries. The Screen Writers' Guild was quick to point out that the arbitration agreement in effect from 1931, between the Academy and the Producers' Association, was nearly identical to some of the provisions in the Code. The result of the arbitration agreement with the Academy, according to the Guild, was that, Competitive bidding for employees according to our figures has been stifled. 700 employees who come under the agreement are working without contract...only two received outside offers while working...the employing producer virtually has the protection of a contract without any obligations...producers even though they have the right will not openly bid for the valued employees of another producer. .J4 The Guild looked to the five-by-five committees for relief from the pro visions of the Code to which it objected, but these expectations were to be frustrated by the producers' intransigence. Even after elections were conducted among Hollywood writers for the five writers' posts on the committee, the writers were not appointed officially to the commit tee. The writers could not compel the Code Authority, composed of pro ducers, to act on the matter. The producers and the Academy objected to the way the writers were chosen, since the Screen Writers' Guild organ ized the election for the five writers selected and, strangely, those elected were all members of the Guild. 14 Ibid. 95 The Guild again appealed directly to President Roosevelt for dis missal of the three provisions. Surprisingly, he did so. He eliminated the provisions as they applied to writers and suspended them for actors, producers, and directors pending further investigation into their roles in the industry.^ Finally, after more than six months of haggling, both the writer and actor members of the five-by-five committees were directly appointed by Sol M. Rosenblatt, the iN.R.A. Deputy Administrator in charge of the Amusement Division, on June 19, 1934.^ 6 The Guild claimed that Rosenblatt's actions were prompted, not by the arguments and pleas of the Guild, but by the direct intervention of President Roosevelt once more.^ In the light of Roosevelt's intercession on behalf of the Guild, both in the case of the three salary-limiting provisions and the five- by-five committees, the Guild's assessment of the situation may be con sidered an understatement. Parenthetically it may be stated that while producers have had influence in Washington, it has been the experience of the Guild that writers may also find a way of presenting their case to the Chief Executive and obtaining action.' 8 Why Roosevelt interceded on behalf of the Guild is open to question. ^Variety, December 5, 1933,p. 7. ^The Screen Guilds' Magazine, II , No. 2 (1935), p. 4. ibid. 18 Ibid. Perhaps' he had not forgotten that his distant cousin and his wife's un cle, Theodore Roosevelt, had been the first Vice-president of the Au thors' League of America with which the Screen Writers' Guild was asso- ci ated. Even with the writers' portion of the five-by-five committee se- 19 lected, the Code Authority was required to appoint the producer half of the committee before it could operate, and this the Authority was reluctant to do. Once again, the Guild called upon the White House for help by sending a lengthy telegram to the President. Late in July,1934, the Motion Picture Code Authority—six days after the Guild had sent its telegram—finally appointed the producer members of the five-by-five 20 comrn ttees. The writer-producer committee met repeatedly but came to no agreements. Each half finally agreed to send briefs of its position to Washington for arbitration, but before any decisions could be made the N.I.R.A. was declared unconstitutional by the U.S. Supreme Court in May, 1935. The work on the committees and the work of organization was not all for naught, however. The National Labor Relations Act, the Wagner l^The members of the committee were Ralph Block, John Emerson, James Gleason, Dudley Nichols, and Waldemar Young. Their alternates were, respectively, Gladys Lehman, Rupert Hughes, John C. Natteford, Seton I. Miller, and Courtnay Terrett. ^°These were Irving Thai berg, Darryl Zanuck, I. Chadwick, Henry Henigson, and Sol Wurtzel, with alternates, Hal Wallis, Samuel Goldwyn, Larry Darmour, Harry Cohn, and Merritt Hulburd. 97 Act, was passed on July 5, 1935, and took over in part where the N.I.R.A. left off, but emphasizing the rights of laborers to organize in unions of their own choosing. The Academy's function as an initia tor in the labor-management field had dwindled into abstraction. Vari ety reported with ill-concealed glee that the Academy was "about to pi fold up completely and fall into the ash-can of oblivion." Many of the members of the Academy who had not yet resigned were not paying their dues and its monthly income was reported as $900 less than its 22 monthly expenses cut to their lowest point. However, the Screen Wri ters' Guild had no sooner lost one rival for screen writers' affections than it gained another, a competitive organization of screen writers known as the Screen Playwrights, Inc. The Guild had fared rather well under the National Industrial Recovery Act, but the real battle with the movie industry for a freely negotiated contract was far from final resolution. 21 Variety, January 2, 1934, p. 2. ^Variety, January 23, 1934, p. 2. CHAPTER yil THE DEATH OF THE SCREEN WRITERS' GUILD The conflict between the Screen Writers' Guild and the movie pro ducers intensified rapidly. The Guild's victory in getting the three undesirable provisions of the N.R.A. Motion Picture Code cancelled by Executive Order was off-set by the Supreme Court's decision that the National Industrial Recovery Act was unconstitutional. The Guild faced the unpleasant likelihood that it would have to fight its battles once more. The Wagner Act was signed on July 5, 1935, perhaps significantly the day following Independence Day. At the time, there was considerable doubt among politicians, laborers, and their employers—all segments of the country's population—concerning the Act's constitutionality. If the Supreme Court could invalidate the N.I.R.A., why not the Wagner Act? Though the constitutionality of the Act was in question, the Guild pro ceeded with apparent confidence in its ultimate validation. Wasting no time, the Executive Board of the Guild sent a letter to each of the major studios and to the principal independent producers notifying them of the Guild's claim as the exclusive bargaining agency for Hollywood writers. The letter also offered to enter into collective bargaining 98 under the terms of the National Labor Relations Act J The Guild was fighting for its life. The Academy had once again seized the initiative by negotiating a revised version of the labor practices agreement for writer-producer relations: the Academy Code of Fair Practice Between Producers and Writers. The move was a blatant attempt to woo writers to the Academy point of view and, perhaps, back to the Academy. The revision of the writer-producer code could have been viewed as a valid reason why the Academy should have been consid ered the better choice as the writers' bargaining agency instead of the Screen Writers' Guild. The Guild protested vigorously that the Writers' Branch of the Academy with only 38 writer members could not possibly claim to speak for the nearly one thousand writers in Hollywood, while the Guild, with more than twenty times as many writers as current mem bers, was the proper representative. On all accounts, the Guild's pro tests appear to be justified under the terms of the Wagner Act. The Academy Code of Fair Practice Between Producers and Writers was analyzed by the Guild's attorney, Lawrence Beilenson, in October, 1935.^ (The analysis may be found in the Appendix.) The analysis re veals, by inference at least, that the producers were quite unwilling to relinquish the upper hand in their dealings with writers. As employers, the producers had the right to choose their employees, but they also had Hhe Screen Writer, III, No. 11 (1948), p. 29. ^The Screen Guilds' Magazine, II, No. 8 (1935), pp. 4-5. TOO the responsibility to deal with those employees justly. The Guild- analysis of the Academy Code is indicative of the goals of the Screen Writers' Guild as they counter the proposals approved by the writer mem bers of the Academy. The Guild was bargaining for an agreement which insured the wri ters, 1) a legal foundation for grievances through insistence on written contracts for all work, 2) consideration of personal interests by being given notice in advance of termination and the extent of contractually authorized lay-offs, and 3) a body to arbitrate differences of opinion on contractual matters other than the courts, which were both expensive and time-consuming. Writers in Hollywood were seeking some fair measure of stability in their daily lives. Without the renewed vigor of the Screen Writers' Guild, it is likely that the producers would not have considered any change in the writer-producer code. However, even the Guild's existence could not sway the producers from their rigid determination not to allow even a particle of rust to blemish their iron hand. No better instance can be supplied than the Academy agreement on credit arbitration: even if the Writers' Adjustment Committee of the Academy determined that a producer had improperly assigned screen credits on a picture, he was not obli gated to change them under the terms of even the revised code. When screen credits were the key to a writer's livelihood, it seems incon ceivable that any group representative of writers' interests would al low such a situation to continue. 101 The rupture between the Academy and the Screen Writers' Guild reached what might be considered its most extreme point when Dudley Nichols refused to accept the Academy Award that he won for his adapta tion of Li am 0'Flaherty's novel, The Informer, and when the Screen Ac tors' Guild and the Screen Writers' Guild boycotted the awards banquet. Nichols claimed that, as one of the founders of the re-organized Guild which was founded in opposition to the Academy, it would have indicated tacit approval of the Academy and what it stood for if he accepted the award. Instead, he and the Guild remained united against the Academy. The Screen Writers' Guild was, at this time, trying to secure in the movie industry the same relative position that the Dramatists' Guild of the Authors' League of America held in the theater business. The Dramatists' Guild had a so-called "Guild shop" and had operated as such since 1926. The Dramatists' Guild did not require membership in the Guild in order to sell the rights to a play or to have a play pro duced, but it did require both writer and producer to abide by the Guild rules in the relationship. The Screen Writers' Guild pointed to the success of the Dramatists' Guild and its influence in the industry in in correcting "all the evils that existed for the Dramatists in the theatre."^ However, the screenwriters' function in the movie business was 3 The Screen Guilds' Magazine, III , No. 1 (1936), pp. 1-2 and New York Times, March 10, 1936, p. 26. ^The Screen Guilds' Magazine, II , No. 5 (1936), p. 1. 102 different from that of the playwright in the theater business. The playwright generally completed a play on a speculative basis, and then looked for someone to buy the dramatic rights for the play in order to produce a stage play. The screenwriter, on the other hand, most fre quently was an employee of a studio which paid him by the week for his services in adapting another person's work to the requirements of the screen. The playwright sold a product; the screen writer sold a service, even though his service might end with a product similar to the play wright's. All in all, the dramatists took greater personal risks and had less financial security than most professional writers for the screen. The screen writer had the opportunity to free-lance completed screenplays, but this was not the normal procedure in the industry. Be that as it may, the Guild sought from the studios a Guild shop similar to that of the Dramatists' Guild with one additional advantage: any writer employed by a motion picture studio would be required to be long to the Screen Writers' GuiId.^ In other words, a free-lance writer of a completed screenplay could offer his completed work for sale to a studio so long as he abided by the rules of the Guild which were estab lished largely for his own protection. But if he were asked to re-write a portion of the screenplay under contract to the studios, then he would be required to join the Guild. These demands for a "Guild shop" were largely ignored by the producers in the industry who waited for the 5 Ibid. 103 Courts to decide on the constitutionality of the Wagner Act. Not wishing to place ultimate reliance in its demands for pro ducer recognition and a freely negotiated contract upon the foundation of only the Wagner Act, the Guild searched for other methods to coerce the producers to attend the Guild's point of view. Many of the members of the Screen Writers' Guild had nurtured hopes during the past two years of joining forces with the Dramatists' Guild, yet these hopes had come to naught. Luise Si 11 cox, Secretary of the Authors' League, vis ited Hollywood frequently through 1935 to confer on the possibility of achieving a closer working bond between the various Guilds in the Au- g thors' League. The beginning of 1936 brought the Dramatists' Guild to a more cooperative point of view. The contract containing the minimum basic agreement between the Dramatists' Guild and the stage producers expired at the end of February and the coming negotiations were seen to bring the Dramatists' Guild and the Hollywood producers head to head in an approaching collision of interests. The dramatists demanded 100% of the returns on the sale of screen rights, instead of sharing the pro ceeds equally with the producer of the stage play who many times was representing Hollywood interests. The movie industry had been financing the production of Broadway plays, but the dramatists complained that few screen rights had been sold and, when they had been, it was for too lit- ^Ibid., p. 4. 104 tie money.'' They asked the support and cooperation of the Authors' League and the Screen Writers' Guild in their efforts to increase their revenues from the film industry. It can be inferred from this action that members of all the guilds of the Authors' League were impressed with the results of the guilds' united publicity campaign recently co ordinated by the Authors' League against the oppressive N.R.A. Motion Picture Code. As it turned out, the leadership of the Screen Writers' Guild saw that a closer tie between the guilds might hold the answer to the Guild's own problems with the mighty and mightily vexing producers. They also saw that this might be the answer to members whose interests in the Guild had flagged pending the Supreme Court's decision on the Wagner Act. The leaders of the guilds met to determine the structure of the proposed amalgamation and this structure was announced on March 30, 1936. The Authors' Guild, the Dramatists' Guild, the Screen Writers' Guild, and the newly formed Radio Writers' Guild were to unite under the Authors' League Council which would coordinate efforts of all writers in their fight for greater recognition, better remuneration, and higher working standards. The aim of the resulting amalgamation was the vir tual monopolization of all known writing talent in the United States. The one exception, writers for newspapers, was at that moment being con tacted with the proposal that the Newspaper Guild join forces with the ^Variety, February 26, 1936, pp. 1 and 31. 105 amalgamated guilds of the Authors' League of America, since it too was fighting for recognition from its members' employers. The outlook for Hollywood's producers must have been dismaying, to say the least. As of the first of the year, the International Alli ance of Theatrical Stage Employees had at last forced the producers to grant the union a closed shop for its electricians and the other crafts men of the back lot. The long delayed organization of the Screen Di rectors' Guild, which began first in 1933, finally came to fruition in January of 1936 completing the unionization of the creative talent in Hollywood. The directors wanted more artistic control of the pictures on which they worked and more time in which to prepare for their work. They disliked being given a script they had never seen only a day or two before shooting and being expected to direct a successful picture. Ex pectations were high that once the Directors' Guild became more firmly established, it would affiliate with the Screen Actors' Guild and the O Screen Writers' Guild to demand producer recognition. Though the ex pected alliance was never to take place, the directors' resignations from the Academy to join the Screen Directors' Guild weakened that body still further. The producers no longer had any hope of using the Acad emy to stave off the adamant demands of the creative forces in their em ploy. It appeared that the producers would soon have no choice but to O New York Times, January 26, 1936, VIII, p. 7. 106 deal with the Authors' League. The Authors' League and the Dramatists' Guild accepted the idea of amalgamation quickly by accepting the pro posed constitution for the body as written. Final approval depended upon its acceptance by the members of the Screen Writers' Guild at their general membership meeting on May 2. The issue brought to the fore the same kind of ideological tensions which stopped the affiliation of the Authors' League of America with the American Federation of Labor in 1916. This time, however, considerable pressure from outside the Guild was brought to bear to influence the decisions of the Guild members. Members of the Guild were to vote on two questions on May 2. The first was simply whether or not to join with the Dramatists' Guild and the Authors' League in the special amalgamation. The second was known as Article 12. The Article called for writers not to sign any contract which called for their services beyond May 2, 1938, two years after the vote on Article 12. A writer under personal contract with a studio could be sued for breach of contract if he refused to work during a wri ters' strike. The Guild proposed to clear the way for such a strike by setting a contract limitation date two years hence, so that such con tracts then in force would have time to expire and all writers could have the opportunity to strike at the same time. In actuality, the Guild Code of Working Rules gave the Executive Board of the Guild power to prohibit contracts beyond any given date and had since February 14, 1934, when the article was approved by 75% of the Guild. The Executive Board, knowing the explosive nature of the issue 107 at hand and feeling that the Guild must preserve its unity before the producers, implemented Article 12 of the Code of Working Rules only two weeks before the annual meeting of the Guild (April 14), making its stand public and referring the matter to the will of the Guild. The members were to vote on whether to confirm the Board's use of Article 12 and whether to amalgamate with the Authors' League. The issue stirred little controversy when approved on the East coast by both the Authors' League and the Dramatists' Guild, but when it reached the West coast a veritable tornado of emotion ensued. The nation-wide Hearst chain of newspapers printed an editorial branding the amalgamation attempt as Red-inspired, just one week before the meeting. The Producers' Association mailed copies of the editorial by special de livery to the writers on the staffs of their studios. 9 Name calling on both sides was prolific. The producers would not "permit a few radical- minded and power-seeking individuals to disrupt the industry."^ Dudley Nichols bought a full-page advertisement in Variety, saying in part, ...the Producers' Association—one of the strongest unions in the world--has declared war. Foreseeing defeat if the writers stand together, they have seized upon all manner of propaganda to create fear and dissension....There is only one course for writers Stand together. Vote for amalgamation J' 9 The New Republic, May 27, 1936, p. 70. ^Variety, April 29, 1936, p. 3. ^The New Republic, May 27, 1936, p. 70. 108 The two weeks between the Board's announcement that Article 12 had been put into effect on April 14 and the annual meeting of the gen eral membership of the Guild on May 2 gave time for the formation of a dissenting group within the Guild. Composed in the main of some of the more successful screen writers in the West, they felt that, as formu lated, the amalgamation gave Eastern writers too big a voice in the running of the Screen Writers' Guild and that the amalgamation might commit the members of the Guild to actions and statements not in accord with the wishes of the clear majority of the Guild's membership. This active group of conservative members was led by James K. McGuinness. It presented to the Executive Board a written list of suggested amendments to the amalgamation proposal designed to guarantee the Guild's autonomy and freedom of action. These suggestions included a weighted voting system using screen writing accomplishments to determine the relative weight of each vote cast, nominations of officers which could be made from the floor in addition to those made by a nominating committee, rat ification of constitutional amendments by the general membership, strike vote only by a 2/3 majority of the active membership of each guild in the amalgamated body, and clarification of the offenses which made mem bers liable to suspension from the Guild, along with clearer procedures for the appeal of such a suspension.^ It is apparent from these sug gestions that many of the more successful writers did not wish to be ^Variety, May 6, 1936, pp. 2 and 33. 109 dictated to by the less successful and their concern on this count is understandable. Apparent, too, is the steadfast resistence to pressures to organize coming from the Eastern establishment, a resistence shared equally by the many actors and writers who had found success on the West coast after futile attempts in the East. The committee^ led by James McGuinness persuaded the Executive Board that the members of the Screen Writers' Guild should forego voting on the actual amalgamation proposal and that they should vote only on the principle of amalgamation until the amendment question was settled. This the Board agreed to do, under standing that if the amendments were approved by the Authors' League and the Dramatists' Guild, that the more conservative members represented by the committee headed by J.K. McGuinness would support the amalgamation movement and would abide by Article 12.^ This understanding ultimately proved to be in error. As the time for the meeting drew near, the producers' pressure on their writers intensified. On the morning of May 2, The Hollywood Reporter carried many pages of advertising, paid for by Bess Meredyth, a member of the Screen Writers' Guild, which contained the legal opinion of her attorney, Walter Tuller, concerning the legality of the amalgamated body which was 13 McGuinness, John Lee Mahin, Patterson McNutt, Robert Riskin, and Howard Emmett Rogers. ^The Screen Guilds' Magazine, III , No. 3 (1936), p. 22. 110 to be voted on that day. He characterized the body as illegally re straining trade and as a trust which was forbidden by the various anti trust laws being used against big business so successfully. It was claimed, however, that Tuller could hardly be expected to give an un biased opinion on the matter, since he was an attorney for Paramount Studios at the time and since he had previously represented none other than Louis B. Mayer on a personal matter.^ When the writers arrived at their respective studios, their bosses greeted thern with threats and abuse alternated with visions of better treatment to come in the future. Irving Thalberg of M-G-M; Henry Herzbrun at Paramount; Ben Kahane, Sam Briskin, and Pandro Berman, all at R-K-0; Jack L. Warner at Warner Brothers; Darryl Zanuck at 20th Cen tury-Fox; and William Koenig at Universal spoke their piece: "Any at tempt to cripple the industry by invoking 'Article 12' will be fought to the limit: any effort to curb the free and independent relationship 1 fi of producer and writer will be resisted at any cost." Dal ton Trumbo later related that Jack L. Warner of Warner Bros, told his writing staff that many writers of the Screen Writers' Guild would find themselves "out cf business" by virtue of a telephoned black list if Article 12 passed. Trumbo continued his testimony to the N.L. R.B. saying, "He also claimed that many of our leaders were then under 15 Ibid., Tuller also represented the Producers' Association be fore the N.L.R.B. in the following legal maneuvering. •1ftVariety, May 6, 1936, p. 3. m investigation by the Department of Justice [for Red ties]."^ Irving Thai berg reportedly told his writers, If you wish to put all these people out of work, it is your re sponsibility. For if you proceed with this strike, I shall close down the entire plant [M-G-M], without a single exception.... Make no mistake. I mean precisely what I say. I shall close this studio, lock the gates, and there will be an end to Metro- Goldwyn-Mayer productions. And it will be you--all you writers-- who will have done it J 8 The Guild members met that evening not knowing what effect the producers' pressure would have. Approximately 400 members arrived at the Hollywood Athletic Club to consider the issue raised by the Board, yet less than half of these were eligible to vote. The Board must have been pleased at least with the evidence of a revived interest in the Guild. The beginning of the last annual meeting in 1935 had been de- 19 layed because it did not have a quorum of forty active members. The Executive Board listed thirteen benefits which could be obtained from the producers through the amalgamation. They are listed here to indi cate that the Guild's Board did not really seek particularly unreason able working conditions and to give a reference to measure the Guild's later success. ^Variet.y, August 30, 1939, p. 5. ^®Bob Thomas, Thai berg: Life and Legend, pp. 267-268. ^The Screen Guilds' Magazine, III , No. 3 (1936), p. 4. 112 1) an equitable, practical deal on credits; 2) no more option contracts which give options only to the pro ducer; 3) change in layoffs giving writer a single continuous idle peri od and the right to accept other employment during such time; 4) fair, workable arbitration provisions enforced by a strong organization; 5) prohibition of blacklists; 6) agents uncontrolled by producers; 7) no further attempt at a general booking office; 8) prohibition of general salary cuts; 9) reservation of rights other than movie rights for original screenplays; 10) prohibition of speculative screenplay writing for any produ cer; 11) protection from dismissal without notice of week-to-week wri ters; 12) an end to producers' plagiarism by their being required to purchase right to material before its screen adaptation; 13) honest notice to writers when other writers are put to work on the same material.20 With the possibility, on the one hand, that amalgamation would give the writers sufficient power to demand the above benefits as fair treatment, and, on the other hand, that amalgamation would throw the movie industry into a talent/producer crisis, this year's annual meeting would have no problem making a quorum call. But these benefits could only be obtained if the Screen Writers' Guild united in its demands. Under pressure from the McGuinness-led group of conservatives, the Executive Board further modified its posi tion by assuring the Guild's members at the meeting that the instigation of the contract limitation date through the use of Article 12 of the 20 Variety, April 29, 1936, p. 27. 113 Guild Code of Working Rules would be repealed as soon as the producers recognized the Guild and agreed to negotiate toward a minimum agreement. The Board went to great lengths at all times to quell the disquiet among the members led by McGuinness, so that the Guild would present a united front to the producers. The immediate result of the vote that evening strongly favored the principle of amalgamation with the Authors' League of America (193 to 25) and the enactment of the contract limitation date through Article 12 (188 to 32).^ The two hundred and twenty votes cast in the ballot ing represented only half the Guild's active membership and many of those were cast by Seton I. Miller who had been appointed proxy by many of the absent members. It was generally alleged that the reason so few active members of the Screen Writers' Guild actually attended the meet ing was that many did not wish to become identified with the Guild in the minds of the producers. The meetings that morning had had their desired effect. The meeting ended late that night with the Guild mem bers in apparent accord. The leaders of the conservative element of the Guild supported the Guild's position. Patterson McNutt seconded the motion for the amalgamation vote "in principle" and James K. McGuinness rose to speak for the motion. He, Patterson McNutt, and Robert Riskin, of the conservatives' committee, were elected at the meeting to what was known as the coalition Executive Board. At the same time, Ernest Pascal ^Variety, May 6, 1936, pp. 3 and 29. 114 was re-elected as President, Seton I. Miller was elected Vice-president, along with E.E. Paramore, Jr. and John Grey as Secretary and Treasurer, respectively. The Executive Board, or at least its officers, went home that night predicting producer recognition of the Guild within six oo months. The battle lines were drawn. The Dramatists' Guild was out on strike, demanding among other things a better deal on movie rights from stage producers and a more equitable arrangement with Hollywood for movie rights to plays that the movie studios financed for production on Broadway. It saw the tight-knit amalgamation as a way to force the pro ducers' capitulation. The screen writers' affirmative vote on the prin ciple of amalgamation left it only a matter of time before writers on all sides would present a united front to the producers of motion pic tures and be able to demand what they considered fair treatment. It looked as if the screen writers' openly negotiated minimum contract with the producers, the contract they had sought for nearly twenty years, would shortly become a reality. Instead of boom, the Guild found bust as it quickly realized. Those writers who had stayed away from the meeting and those who had voted against the amalgamation carefully examined both sides of the bread and chose the side with the butter. The first resignations came into the Guild on the fourth of May. Not surprisingly, Bess Meredyth, 22 Ibid. 115 the writer who took out the advertisement against the amalgamation in The Hollywood Reporter, was among the first to tender her resignation. Large numbers of staff writers at Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, at Paramount, at Warner's and Fox withdrew from the Guild. It was said that the 25 votes against the amalgamation and 25 of the 32 votes against Article 12 came from a block of writers from Metro, who practically all resigned from ? 3 the Guild shortly thereafter. Guild members later spoke knowingly of writers who joined the Guild only to vote against the amalgamation pro posal and then resigned. Within one week, the Guild received 82 resig- 24 nations. Instead of uniting through the amalgamation proposal, the Guild divided. The Screen Writers' Guild had fought the Academy of Mo tion Picture Arts and Sciences since 1927 and had finally achieved near ly total recognition by the writers of Hollywood only to be split once more. As Times writer Douglas W. Churchill assessed the situation, the Guild split because it had sought an issue in the amalgamation attempt 25 instead of waiting for one to develop. On May 4, 1936, James K. McGuinness, Patterson McNutt, and Bert Kalmar led the more conservative writers away from the Guild to a new writers' organization, first known as The Screen Writers of Hollywood, which was to be first directed by ^Variety, May 6, 1933, p. 3. ^Variety, May 13, 1936, p. 62. ^New York Times, June 28, 1936, IX, p. 3. 116 26 Herman Mankiewicz. Mankiewicz had already been assured of recogni tion for his breakaway group by the producers. The producers' attack on the Screen Writers' Guild had been out lined as early as 1919, as the Guild bitterly noted in the magazine it published in co-operation with the Screen Actors' Guild, The Screen 07 Guilds' Magazine. During Equity's fight for recognition as the stage actors' union, E.F. Albee recommended to the Producing Manager's Asso ciation that they oppose the union in the following manner: 1. Attack the actors' leaders. Shake the faith of their fol lowing in every possible way. 2. Wean from Equity as many actors as possible through offer of more advantageous contracts than they have ever had if they will stand by their managers in this crisis. 3. Organize a rival association headed by as many prominent players as can be gotten together quickly. Give this com pany union everything it wants. Above all, refuse to recog nize the Actors' Equity Association. 28 Hollywood's producers followed this advice to the letter; it would have worked even more successfully but for the intrusion of the National La bor Relations Board, an entity not yet conceived in 1919. Nevertheless, the producers appeared to follow each point in Albee's recommendation. 26 The Screen Writer, III , No. 11 (1948), p. 29. *^The Screen Guilds' Magazine, III , No. 3 (1936), p. 3. po Alfred Harding, The Revolt of the Actors (New York: William Morrow & Co., 1929), pp. 66-67. 117 Attack the [writers'] leaders. Shake the faith of their following in every possible way. The leaders of the Screen Writers' Guild were attacked by the members of the rival writers' group and by the producers. They were characterized as "a few radicals recently on from the east and others who journeyed here for part-time work and a clean-up [of a screen play]." 29 More significantly, Rupert Hughes—one of the founders of both the Authors' League of America and the Screen Writers' Guild— sharply criticized the Guild leadership and cast his lot with Mankiewicz and McGuinness, saying, "[the amalgamation] would set up a group of Stalins in the Authors' League.Roy Howard, a chain newspaper owner then opposing the formation of the Newswriters' Guild, called the amal gamation, the "creation of a writers' soviet." The association of the leadership of the Guild with Communism during the period was to have greater repercussions in the future than it did at the time. The Holly wood Ten, the figures from the movie industry (mostly writers) who re fused to testify before the House Committee on Un-American Activities in 1947, featured many of the Guild's principals of this era, including John Howard Lawson, Dal ton Trumbo, and Ring Lardner, Jr. It is not the concern of this investigation to determine the political persuasions of 29 Variety, May 27, 1936, p. 3. 30 Variety, May 13, 1936, p. 3. 118 these figures or others in the Guild. However, as these allegations af fected the course of the Guild, their inspiration does have relevance. The inspiration was in part personal and in part from the proposed structure of the League. Dalton Trumbo had been piercing the underflesh of the producers' self-image since the time of the initial revival of the Screen Writers' Guild in 1933 though he did not join the Guild until 1936. His rapa- 0*1 cious criticism in articles published in The North American Review and 32 Forum of the financial laxity verging on chaos prevalent in the stu dios brought him no friends among the producers in Hollywood, who suf fered from increased pressures for economies from Eastern bankers and stockholders. His vocal dissatisfaction with the status quo identified him with others who attacked the higher levels of capitalistic enter prise with perhaps other motivations. While it may in point of fact be true that Dalton Trumbo was a member of the Communist Party as alleged by the House Committee on Un-American Activities in 1947, the evidence read into the record of the Motion Picture Hearings, 1947, makes no men tion of Trumbo's alleged affiliation with Communistic front groups or ^Dalton Trumbo, "The Fall of Hollywood," The North American Re view, August, 1933. 32 Dalton Trumbo, "Hollywood Pays: Proving You Can't Fool All of the People All the Time," Forum, February, 1933. 119 their activities until 1940, four years after the time in question. 33 Dorothy Parker, Dudley Nichols, and Donald Ogden Stewart were each very prominent screen writers, active in the Screen Writers' Guild, and politically concerned. All three were energetic in their participa tion in the Anti-Nazi League, years before such a sentiment was appre- OA ciated in America. This in an era when being anti-Nazi was frequently associated with being pro-Russian, hence pro-Communist. John Ford, the director, made reference to this common association in a public state ment issued against the Dies Committee investigation of Hollywood in 1938: May I express my whole-hearted desire to cooperate to the utmost of my ability with the Hollywood anti-Nazi League. If this be Communism, count me in.-" The three writers, along with Lillian Hellman (the foremost female dra matist in America at the time), were among the very active group which formed the Motion Picture Artists' Committee, which supported the Loy alist cause in the Spanish Civil War by raising over $30,000 for its OO Robert Francis Vaughn, "A Historical Study of the Influence of the House Committee on Un-American Activities on the American Theatre, 1938-1958," an unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, The University of South ern California, Los Angeles, 1970, pp. 494-515. *34 The New Republic, January 12, 1938, p. 277. 35 TAC, October, 1938, p. 3, as quoted in Vaughn, p. 80. 120 medical needs, ambulances, and so forth.^ Ernest Hemingway, who had been an ambulance driver for the Loyalists, was one of the speakers brought to Hollywood by the Motion Picture Artists' Committee to help raise money for the Soviet-supported, Loyalist movement. 37 The personal attacks on the leaders of the Screen Writers' Guild stemmed from politi cal activities such as these. But the cries of "Stalins" many times referred to the administra tive structure of the amalgamated League, rather than or, more accurate ly, in addition to the political background of its leaders. The pro posed Executive Council of thirty members would have made administrative decisions and would have spoken for the League, but it was made abun dantly clear that any major decision would be referred to the members of the individual guilds. This Council was the body under attack when Rupert Hughes persisted in referring to "a soviet of writers controlled by a few Stalins." 3 ^ Wean from [the Screen Writers' Guild] as many [writers] as possible through offer of more advantageous contracts than they have ever had if they will stand by their [producers] in this crisis. One of the indications that a writer was really successful in 3 ^The New Republic, January 12, 1938, p. 277. 37 The Nation, June 19, 1936, p. 755. 38 The Nation, June 10, 1936, p. 754. 121 Hollywood, even beyond that of a fat pay check, was the studio's grant ing him a measure of artistic control over the movies he wrote by making him the producer or the director of them. It was only by becoming a producer or director that a writer could overcome that common cause for complaint that was voiced by William Holden in Sunset Boulevard (1950): "The last [screenplay] I wrote was about the Okies in the dust bowl. You'd never know, it was played on a torpedo boat." 39 The executive producers of Hollywood offered their staff writers long-term, lucrative contracts lasting far beyond May 2, 1938, and some writers received producer contracts, too. The five-year contract signed by Morrie Ryskind, a Guild member, which called upon his services as a writer, director, and producer was highly publicized as the first break in the observance of Article 12. The Guild later explained that only the producer-director portion of the contract was to last the full five years, while the writing contract would expire before the specified deadline of May 2, 1938.^ Nevertheless, Ryskind*s seeming break from the Guild's restriction did major damage to the Guild's cause. On the other hand, the leaders of the rival group seem to have benefited distinctly from the studios' new-found willingness to make them producers. It might be inferred that there may well have been some connection between their roles in the Guild's rival and their new roles og Sunset Boulevard, direct quote from dialogue track of the movie whose screenplay was written by Billy Wilder, Charles Brackett and D.M. Marshman, Jr. ^^The Screen Guilds' Magazine, III, No. 3 (1936), p. 15 122 in movie making. Grover Jones, James K. McGuinness, Howard J. Green, and Howard Estabrook were each given producer contracts in the same year of their break with the Guild, and Robert Riskin was first made a direc tor in 1936.^ At one point, McGuinness was considered the leader of the breakaway writers, while Jones was the group's first president, and Riskin, Green and Estabrook were on the Executive Committee of the Wri ters' Branch of the Academy. Indeed, the writers were offered more ad vantageous contracts while opposing the efforts of the Screen Writers' Guild and standing by the producers. The new writers' group consolidated their position by welcoming writers-turned-producers into their organization.^ In contrast, the Screen Writers' Guild, just the past year, forced Nunnally Johnson to resign from the Guild because he had become a producer. The creator of the screenplay for House of Rothschild (1934) and later The Grapes of Wrath (1940), among many others, was no longer considered eligible for membership in the Guild because he was a producer and his allegiances might become mixed. This was not considered a problem by the new wri ters' group; its members knew where their allegiance belonged. Organize a rival association headed by as many prominent [writers] ^Variety, October 21, 1936, p. 2. 42 New York Times, June 28, 1936, IX, p. 3. 43 The Screen Writer, III, No. 11 (1948), p. 29. 123 as can be gotten together quickly. Give this company union every thing it wants. Above all, refuse to recognize the [Screen Wri ters' Guild]. Though there were preliminary meetings of writers held prior,the first official meeting of The Screen Writers of Hollywood was on May 11, with approximately 75 writers in attendance. Conspicuous at this meet ing was Rupert Hughes, who had had considerable experience in organizing writers since it was he and Thomas Buchanan who first rallied the screen writers in the movie industry to join together as a guild under the aus pices of the Authors' League of America. Now Hughes was divorced from that Guild and had denounced it in the nation's press. He formed a committee to draw up a code of practice for the approval of the members and the producers. They had been told that the producers would recog nize them and their code when it had been drawn up. The composition of the committee which was designated the respon sibility to write the Code determined in large measure that the nature of whatever code was written would not diverge far from the Writer- Producer Code of Practice which had been written and then revised by the Writers' Branch of the Academy. William Slavens McNutt, Frank But ler, William Conselman, Waldemar Young, Tom Reed, Kubec Glasmon, and Bess Meredyth comprised the committee and the Academy was well repre sented on it. The producers' support of the new group was made abundantly clear to all the writers. Important writers at M-G-M and 20th Century- 124 Fox were offered long-term contracts at "handsome figures," but were expected in turn to join the fledgling writers' organization. 44 In a wire responding to Ernest Pascal's offer to discuss truce terms on the threatened amalgamation, William Koenig of Universal refused to nego tiate, saying, "If there are any real grievances to be considered they will never be ironed out with a club regardless of who swings it or who gets hit by the first blow." 4 ^ The members of The Screen Writers of Hollywood met a second time on May 21 to order their forces and to adopt the by-laws of the group. On this date, the group changed its name to Screen Playwrights and filed papers of incorporation with the State of California. Only 40 screen writers were present at the meeting. 46 The by-laws of the group made clear the elitist nature of the organization: only staff writers who had served at least two years with a major studio, or free-lance writers with three pictures produced in the past two years were eligible for membership in the Screen Playwrights, Inc. In contrast, active member ship in the Screen Writers' Guild required only three months of employ ment at a studio as a staff writer or one screen credit for a feature film (three credits for short subjects). The Guild members thought that the elitist nature of the Academy precluded its members from em pathizing with the plight of their less successful peers. In many re- 44 Bob Thomas, Thalberg: Life and Legend, p. 267. ^Variety, May 13, 1936, p. 3. 46 Variety, May 27, 1936, p. 3. 125 spects, the Screen Playwrights represented a reincarnation of the same obstacle the Guild had just overcome. In June, the officers of the Screen Playwrights were elected: Grover Jones, President; William Sla- vens McNutt and Bess Meredyth, Vice-presidents; Frank Butler, Treasurer; and William Conselman, Secretary.^ The Screen Writers' Guild had been fighting for its life. Its dependence on the National Labor Relations Act was stymied until the U.S. Supreme Court ruled on its constitutionality and, in the meantime, the Guild had been atrophying. The amalgamation proposal suggested by the Dramatists' Guild looked like the perfect stimulant for the ailing Screen Writers' Guild, from Ernest Pascal's viewpoint at least. Instead of a stimulant, the amalgamation was a poison. Mortally affected by the departure of such a large and successful group of writers, the Screen Writers' Guild withdrew from participation in the industry. One of the anomalies of the situation was that the Guild members found that during the reorganization in 1933 the Screen Writers' Guild had lost its official, legal connection with the Authors' League by incorporating as the Screen Writers' Guild, Inc instead of the Screen Writers' Guild of the Authors' League of America, Inc. Even though the members had been paying dues to the Guild, dues which were collected by an office administered by the Authors' League of America and part of which went to support the Authors' League, the screen writers were not members of ^New York Times, June 28, 1936, IX, p. 3. 126 the Screen Writers' Guild of the Authors' League of America. This was all the more confusing since the screen writers all thought that they were at least nominally members of the League. Rupert Hughes succinct ly showed his disgust at the situation: ...it was suddenly and astoundingly discovered that the Screen Writers' Guild had been all the while only a California corpora tion sailing under false colors. The officers themselves have decided since the secession to let that guild die, and they have urged the deluded members to join a new organization called the Screen Writers' Guild of the Authors' League—the very name the old guild wore and the very thing it had been supposed to be. It is all very complicated....48 The Guild leaders urged that the Guild's members make application to the Screen Writers' Guild of the Authors' League of America. Promptly, there were 123 resignations from the nearly defunct Screen Writers' Guild, a California corporation, and an equal number of new members of the Screen Writers' Guild of the Authors' League of America. The Exec utive Board of the Screen Writers' Guild rescinded Article 12--the con tract 1 imitation—because it was no longer practical and on July 25, 1936, announced the dissolution of the Screen Writers' Guild, Inc.49 There were then less than forty members remaining in the Guild.50 it allowed the Screen Actors' Guild to take over sole publication of their ^The Nation, June 10, 1936, p. 755. ^Variety, July 29, 1936, p. 3. ^Additional Dialogue: Letters of Dalton Trumbo, 1942-1962, ed. by Helen Manful! (New York: M. Evans and Company, 1970), p. 569. 127 joint publication, The Screen Guilds' Magazine, so as not to lead to any embarrassment of the more successful guild. The Guild had been fighting for its life and lost the fight. Nearly two decades earlier, the Authors' League faced the pros pect of grasping greater power through merger with the American Federa tion of Labor. The Council of the League decided not to allow a formal vote on the issue because of the intense feelings on each side of the question. The decision to develop a meaningful power base within the structure of the Authors' League in a sense determined the League's mediocre gain in power in the ensuing years. Incidentally, it also de termined the beginning of the Screen Writers' Guild. The League's mo ments of glory passed as quickly as a cynic's thoughts of Paradise. The Guild, faced with a comparable decision, voted in favor of the merger with the Authors' League of America and broke its united back on the re sulting polarization of the Guild. The Guild died in 1936.Its death was to last less than a year. The actual certificate of dissolution for the Screen Writers' Guild, a California corporation, was not filed until March 1, 1937, [Variety, March 10, 1937, p. 4]. CHAPTER VIII THE GUILD, THE SCREEN PLAYWRIGHTS, AND THE N.L.R.B. The torrent of creative talent unionism had been partially dammed to date by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences and more liberally, though less effectively, damned by Hollywood's motion picture producers. As increasing numbers of directors, actors, and writers de serted the Academy for guilds of their own, the producers' use of the Academy as a labor relations agency became less and less tenable. Nevertheless, Viola Brothers Shore addressed the Western Writers' Congress in San Francisco on "The Rise and Fall of the Screen Writers' Guild,"l while the Screen Writers' Guild of the Authors' League of Amer ica waited impatiently for the U.S. Supreme Court to decide on the con stitutionality of the Wagner Act. In the meantime, the Screen Playwrights had begun negotiations with the studios for a new contract to replace the Academy's revised Writer-Producer pact. First formed in May, the Screen Playwrights ac complished within five months what the old Screen Writers' Guild and the new Guild had failed to do since 1920—they received producer recog nition for their writers' organization. In 1919, E.F. Albee suggested that producers give their company ^Variety, November 11, 1936, p. 2. 128 129 union everything it wished in order to forestall the formation of an independent union. In 1936, the movie producers agreed to terms with the Screen Playwrights which they had previously refused even to consi der when demanded by the Screen Writers' Guild. Nearly all the top ex ecutives in the movie studios met with the Screen Playwrights' code com- mittee^ during the negotiations which ended officially in March, 1937, when the producers approved a new five-year contract with the Screen Playwrights. The Playwrights-Producers' Association contract was to be signed March 24, but delays ensued. Years later, E.J. Mannix, a vice- president for Loew's, testified before the National Labor Relations Board that he had made a contract with the Screen Playwrights prior to its announcement and, furthermore, that the late Irving Thai berg of M-G-M (a part of the Loew's group) had the contract in his possession "prior to September, 1936," even though it was not to go into effect un- O til mid-1937. The producers were in no hurry to make their contract with the writers official. The Screen Actors' Guild began in September, 1936, to gather sup port for its demands of a closed shop for actors, bit-players, and ex tras, which would be presented to the producers along with the labor unions' demands when their contract expired in April, 1937. Although 2 Variety, November 4, 1936, p. 2. ^Variety, August 23, 1939, p. 5. 130 the Screen Actors' Guild was affiliated with the American Federation of Labor, the I.A.T.S.E. and other labor unions did not stand behind S.A.G. in April when the producers refused to deal with the actors' union.^ Despite the Screen Actors' Guild's request that the unions boycott the negotiations in New York, the unions made their own respective deals with the producers generally amounting to a 10% pay raise for their mem bers and a new five-year contract.^ The gulf between the laborers, who made tens of dollars per week, and the actors, who made hundreds or thousands of dollars per week (at least in the minds of the laborers), was too great to be crossed by the simple bonds of belonging to the same affiliated body. The actors' frustration with the situation was appar ent. S.A.G. found that it had to rely on itself and not others if its members were to get what they wished from the producers. The Wagner Act took almost two full years to get from its sign ing in the White House to the U.S. Supreme Court for a decision on its constitutionality. On April 12, 1937, the Court affirmed that the Wag ner Act was indeed in accord with the provisions of the U.S. Constitu tion. The torrent of creative talent unionism was thereby let loose on Hollywood, eroding the producers' steadfast resolve not to recognize the guilds. When the dam broke, it broke quickly. The Screen Playwrights and the Producers' Association finally ^Variety, April 7, 1937, p. 3. 5 Ibid. 131 signed their contract on April 19, one week after the Supreme Court's ruling was announced. The contract was scheduled to last until April, 1942. It was essentially the same as the revised Writer-Producer pact devised by the Writers' Branch of the Academy in conjunction with the producers. Two exceptions should be noted, however. The new contract established jurisdiction over writers' disputes with the Screen Play wrights instead of the Academy, and it called for the formation of a standing committee of three writers and three producers to adjust any contract disputes. With the signing of this contract, the precedent was set for creative talent arbitration outside the Academy. Promptly the Screen Actors' Guild called for equal privileges or better. The Screen Actors' Guild called for producer recognition as the exclusive bargaining agency for movie players, a guild shop, and higher wages for bit-players and extras, among many other items.® After threatening a general walk-out if its demands were not met,' 7 the Screen Actors' Guild was granted a ten-year contract meeting virtually all of its demands including a 100% closed shop for extras, bit-players, and day players, together with a 90% closed shop for featured players. The contract was signed on May 19, effective May 15, four days before. With out the Wagner Act, it is likely that the producers would have stood by their decision in April not to recognize S.A.G., but with the N.L.R.B. 6 Variet.y, April 28, 1937, p. 5. ^Variety, May 12, 1937, pp. 1-2. 132 on the one hand and the possibility of an actors' strike on the other, the producers capitulated. Shortly thereafter, the Academy officially quit all action in contractual relations between writers or actors and producers.® S.A.G.'s success added impetus for the other guilds to press for producer recognition under the terms of the Wagner Act. The Directors' Guild met, planning the submission of a basic working agreement to the Q producers, and the Screen Writers' Guild of the Authors' League of America called for an organizational meeting in June. The Screen Playwrights had represented Hollywood's screen wri ters for little more than a year and had, in that short time, succeeded in gaining producer recognition and a writer-producer contract. Yet, at the same time, the ordinary writer's revenues had been cut. With only the Screen Playwrights to represent them (the Guild was still tend ing its wounds), the writers began in September, 1936, to suffer from the studios' institution of a system of wage cuts when the writers' con tracts came up for renewal. Rumors abounded that the studios were aim ing at a top salary of $1,000 per week for screen writers of the first rankJO it appears that, having been represented for a time by the producer-favored Screen Playwrights, many screen writers more fully ap- 8 Variety, June 23, 1937, p. 3. ^Variety, May 19, 1937, p. 3. ^Variety, September 16, 1936, p. 2. 133 predated the Guild's efforts in their behalf. Approximately 400 screen writers attended the first organizational meeting of the Screen Writers' Guild of the Authors' League of America on the first of June. Although the meeting was nominally open to all Hollywood writers, the Guild members were quick to ask Howard Emmett Rogers to leave due to his active part in the operation of the Screen Playwrights.^ However, other members of the Screen Playwrights were allowed to attend. It was decided that the Screen Writers' Guild of the Authors' League of America should file a complaint with the Regional Director of the Twenty-first Region of the N.L.R.B.--that covering the Los Angeles area--"alleging that questions affecting commerce had arisen concerning the representa tion of screen writers."^ 2 The Guild acted quickly, and on June 11," it filed twenty-one separate petitions against twenty-three studios and the Motion Picture Producers' Association.^ The need for quick action by ^New York Times, June 6, 1937, p. 8. 12 Decisions and Orders of the National Labor Relations Board, p. 663. ^Ibid. The studios in question were Metro-Go!dwyn-Mayer Studios, Selznick International Pictures, Inc., United Artists Studio Corp., Walter Wanger Productions, Inc., Samuel Goldwyn, Inc. of California, Republic Productions, Inc., Columbia Pictures Corp., Paramount Pictures, Inc., RKO Radio Pictures, Inc., Universal Pictures Corp., Twentieth Century-Fox Film Corp., Warner Brothers and First National West Coast Studios, Derr and Sullivan, Educational Studios, Inc., Grand National Studios, Trem Carr Pictures, Ltd., Chadwick Productions, Chesterfield Motion Picture Corp., Major Pictures Corporation, Hal E. Roach Studios, B.P. Schulberg Pictures, Inc., and Darmour Studio. Later, Monogram Productions, Inc. and Walt Disney Productions were also named. Non-studio interests named on the petitions included the Motion 134 the Guild was seen to be caused by the Guild's justifiable fear that the Screen Playwrights, having already negotiated and obtained a basic working agreement with the writers' employers, might petition the N.L.R.B. for recognition as sole bargaining agency for the writers in the industry. The filing of the petitions forestalled any such uncon tested move by the Screen Playwrights. The election of officers for the Guild and member approval of the organizational structure of the Guild was delayed until the next meeting in two weeks time. By June 16, the date of the second meeting, the former Executive Board of the Screen Writers' Guild, led by Ernest Pascal, had resigned and at the meeting a new slate of officers was elected for the renewed confrontation with the producers. Dudley Nichols, President; Charles Brackett, Vice-president; Frances Goodrich, Secretary; and John Grey, Treasurer were elected to lead the fight, with the Guild this time hop ing to have the National Labor Relations Board as an ally. But before the Guild could confront the producers, it had to be recognized as the screen writers' exclusive bargaining agency, and this the producers had Picture Producers' Association, the Motion Picture Producers and Dis- tributors of America, Inc., and Pat Casey, the representative thereof. The Guild asked that the complaints be dropped against the follow ing studios during the course of the hearings: Walt Disney Productions, Derr and Sullivan, Educational Studios, Inc., Chadwick Productions, and Chesterfield Motion Picture Corporation. The Board dismissed the petitions against the Producers' Associa tion, the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors of America, and Pat Casey, because none of these were engaged in the production of motion pictures. ^Variety, June 16, 1937, p. 2. 135 shown they were not willing to do. In a belated effort to bring its membership totals to something approaching the length of the Screen Writers' Guild membership rolls, the Screen Playwrights dropped its elitist posture and opened its doors to the rank and file members of the screen writers' corps.^ But even with its lower membership requirements, the Screen Playwrights never had more than 150 members^--not many writers came to knock on the Play wrights' newly opened doors. The Screen Playwrights also filed a peti tion with Dr. Towne Nylander, the Regional Director of the N.L.R.B., re questing the Board's certification that the Screen Playwrights was the proper representative of the writers in Hollywood. It was up to the N.L.R.B. to determine which organization was truly the writers' proper representative. While the N.L.R.B. considered the situation, the leadership of the Guild looked carefully at the causes of the break-up of the reor ganized Screen Writers' Guild and reversed its position regarding the close relationship between the Screen Writers' Guild and the Authors' League of America. Leonard S. Janofsky, an attorney for the Guild, pre sented the Guild's proposed amendment to the constitution of the Au thors' League in late JuneJ'' The Executive Council of the League an- 15 Ibid., p. 23. ^Variety, February 14, 1940, p. 5. ^Variety, June 23, 1937, p. 5. 136 nounced the amendment as its own, a plan which gave the Screen Writers' Guild nearly complete autonomy from the Authors' League, yet promised united efforts in times of crisis J 8 On June 28, the Authors' League granted the Screen Writers' Guild the autonomy it.desiredJ 9 For the second time, the Screen Writers' Guild of the Authors' League of America lost the last half of its name, this time for good. The move was made to broaden the appeal of the Guild to writers by dropping the active possibility of one of the more radical plans to compel the Guild's re cognition by producers. The Guild now placed all its hopes in the deci sion by the National Labor Relations Board. Both the producers and the Screen Playwrights refused to cooper ate with the N.L.R.B., contending that writers were creative artists, not employees, and that as such they ought not be covered by the Wagner Act. The N.L.R.B. requested the Screen Playwrights to agree to a con sent election to determine the writers' desire to use the Playwrights as their bargaining representative. The Screen Playwrights refused to heed the Board's request.^ The producers also refused to recognize the Screen Directors' Guild for the same reasons used at times against their recognition of the Writers' Guild. In a previous decision, the N.L.R.B. had ruled that ^ 8 New York Times, October 21, 1937, p. 26. 19 Variety, June 30, 1937, p. 6. ^Variety, June 30, 1937, p. 6. 137 designing engineers working for Chrysler Corporation, the automobile manufacturer, were ineligible for N.L.R.B. intercession on their behalf because they were "highly paid creative workers, having influence over hiring and firing of other workers."21 As it turned out, the N.L.R.B. placed primary emphasis in this distinction upon the engineers' influ ence over hiring and firing of personnel, and while both writers and directors were frequently highly paid, and sometimes even creative,they each were able to demonstrate to the Board's satisfaction that hiring and firing was largely the province of the producer. Eventually, the National Labor Relations Board determined that both writers and direc tors were employees of the studios and their conditions of employment were covered under the terms of the Wagner Act. With the question of autonomy cleared up by the Guild's becoming a body merely affiliated with the Authors' League of America, rather than a member organization (though the Guild's finances were still han dled by an office of the Authors' League), the Guild settled down to the business of forcing producer recognition as the writers' represen tative. The Guild soon wrote letters to the producers offering to bar gain collectively with them. On August 26, 1937, exactly one week lat er, the Guild again offered through the mail to bargain with the produ cers. The producers ignored each of the two letters.22 So far as the 663ff. Variety, August 18, 1937, p. 7. 2? Decisions and Orders of the National Labor Relations Board, pp. 138 producers were concerned, they had a legal contract with the represen tative writers' organization, the Screen Playwrights, and that contract would not expire until April 18, 1942. At the same time the Guild began its legal maneuvers designed to present its best side to the N.L.R.B. (by offering in writing to bar gain), it started an obvious attack on the Screen Playwrights by at tempting to discredit its leaders. The Executive Board of the Guild asked authority of the Authors' League to suspend League members active in the Screen Playwrights. Rupert Hughes was the main target of this action, though others were threatened, too. 23 It was hoped that his suspension from the League would be damaging to the rebel organization which he helped organize. Somehow, Hughes' actual suspension from the Authors' League never went into effect, though much was made of the possibility that it might. The Regional National Labor Relations Board held hearings in Los Angeles from September 30 through October 21, 1937. An additional hear ing was held in Washington, D.C. on December 1 of the same year for oral argumentation before the Board. One more hearing was held in Los Angeles for the introduction of new evidence. This took place on May 5, 1938; the Board's decision on the case was announced by the Board on June 4, 1938. 24 23 Variety, August 18, 1937, p. 6. OA Decisions and Orders of the National Labor Relations Board, pp. 665-668. 139 The original petitions filed with the N.L.R.B. on June 11, 1937, were filed by the Screen Writers' Guild of the Authors' League of Amer ica. In the middle of the proceedings, on April 20, 1938, the Guild asked permission to change the name on its petitions so that they would read the Screen Writers' Guild, Inc. to reflect its autonomy from the or Authors' League. If elections were ordered among the screenwriters by the N.L.R.B., the election would be between the Screen Playwrights and the Screen Writers' Guild. Immediately prior to the Guild's incor poration on May 4, 1938, its constitution was amended to put all finan cial matters under its own control. This change gave the Guild total autonomy from the Authors' League. At the hearing on May 5, 1938, tes timony was given showing that the change was in name only and that the officers and members of the Guild remained the same. At the hearings in Washington, the Guild was represented by Leonard S. Janofsky, 26 while Neil S. McCarthy spoke for the Screen Play- 91 wrights. The Board was asked to determine whether screen writers were to be considered employees of the studios under the terms of the Wagner Act, and thus, eligible for Board intervention into the dispute between the Screen Writers' Guild and the Screen Playwrights. The Play- 25 Ibid., p. 700. ^Though Barry Brannen is named by Mary C. McCall, Jr. in her account [The Screen Writer, III, No. 11 (1948), p. 29]. 2 ^New York Times, December 2, 1937, p. 17. 140 wrights and the producers both claimed that screen writers were indepen dent, highly paid, professional artists and were, therefore, ineligible for the protection of collective bargaining as provided for by the Wag ner Act. The Guild claimed the contrary. The N.L.R.B. decision on this case assumed a magnitude greater than might be expected because the Board took the position that the decision on the Guild's petition would be used as a precedent in the complaints by the Screen Directors' Guild and other labor groups yet to be recognized by the producers of Holly- O ft wood. ° Thus, the studios fought the Guild with every resource at their disposal. A battery of nineteen attorneys represented the studios be fore the Board. The three-man committee of the N.L.R.B., which heard the attor neys of the producers, the Screen Playwrights, and the Screen Writers' Guild, seemed already disposed toward the Guild. One of the members, Donald Wakefield Smith, had formerly represented a counterpart of the Authors' League of America, the American Society of Composers, Authors and Publishers. And when J. Warren Madden, the chairman of the commit tee, heard the producers' contentions that the writers' work was so easy and so well paid that they did not need a union to represent them, he scoffed, "I don't believe there is any such Elysium this side of Heaven. I won't believe they live in this happy state where nobody ever has any- 28 Variety, November 10, 1937, p. 11. 141 thing to bargain about. It sounds like nonsense." 29 In addition, the Guild was well served by Leonard S. Janofsky, who was himself formerly an attorney for the National Labor Relations Board.30 Not surprisingly, on June 4, 1938, the Board declared its deci sion that 1) screen writers were employees under the terms of the Wag ner Act and were entitled to the protection of collective bargaining; 2) that the five-year contract entered into between the Screen Play wrights and the Motion Picture Producers' Association should not pre clude collective bargaining by screen writers; 3) that it was not clear whether screen writers wished to be represented in collective bargaining by either the Screen Playwrights, the Screen Writers' Guild, or no or ganization at all. Therefore, an election by secret ballot was ordered by the Board to be conducted within 25 days of the order among all persons who are employed as screen writers on the date [June 4, 1938] if issuance of this Direction of Election by Loew's Incorporated [M-G-M], Selznick International Pictures, Inc., Walter Wanger Productions, Inc., Samuel Goldwyn, Inc.,Ltd., Republic Productions, Inc., Columbia Picture Corporation of Cali fornia, Ltd., Paramount Pictures, Inc., RKO Radio Pictures,Inc., Universal Pictures Company, Inc., Twentieth Century-Fox Film Corporation, Warner Brothers Pictures, Inc., Grand National Films, Inc., Trem Carr Pictures, Ltd., Major Pictures Corpora tion, Hal Roach Studios, Inc., B.P. Schulberg, Inc., Monogram Productions, Inc., and Darmour, Inc. respectively 701. ?Q Variety, December 8, 1937, p. 6. "3D Variety, January 5, 1938, p. 44. 31 Decisions and Orders of the National Labor Relations Board, p. 142 This decision was comparable to Board decisions in the banking, insur ance, utilities, and department store industries, where professional and white collar employees sought protection from and additional bar gaining power with their employers. 32 Even though the N.L.R.B. had ordered the election among screen writers employed by the studios on June 4, it could not compel the co operation of either the studios or the Playwrights. They refused to acknowledge the authority of the N.L.R.B., threatening to appeal the issue in the courts. Moreover, three events during the time the Board took to consider the petitions submitted by the writers mitigated against any amicable relations between the Guild and the Playwrights. The Guild began a program to lure members of the Playwrights back to the Guild. As part of this program, Philip Dunne, the Guild member ship committee chairman, wrote P.G. Wodehouse urging him to resign from the Screen Playwrights, saying "for your own sake and that of all other decent writers, get out of the Playwrights." 33 The Playwrights objected to the Guild's claim that its members were decent and that, by infer ence, the Playwrights were not so. The Playwrights sued the Guild for $200,000 charging that the Guild had libelled it. The suit was dis- OA missed when it reached court. New York Times, June 30, 1938, p. 7. As quoted in Variety, February 9, 1938, p. 24. 143 John Lee Mahin, the new President of the Screen Playwrights, in stigated the second issue by insisting that his name be removed from consideration for an Academy Award for his participation in the writing of the screenplay for Captains Courageous. Ironically, the Screen Play wrights, many of whom had been loyal members of the Writers' Branch of the Academy, were excluded from the nominating committees for Academy Awards of the year, 1937. The Screen Actors' Guild was the dominant force in the Academy at this time and its close relations with the Wri ters' Guild and the Directors' Guild determined that each guild would select the actors, writers, or directors to be nominated for an award for work done in the previous year. Frank Capra, President of the Acad emy, indicated that the Playwrights had been invited to participate in the nomination procedure, but refused to accept. He also criticized the qc injection of such politics in the workings of the Academy. 3 The third incident was actually one of a series of skirmishes over credit arbitration which, by virtue of the writer-producer contract, was the responsibility of the Screen Playwrights. The Guild protested that the Screen Playwrights set out to arbitrate screen credits for the sole benefit of its own members. The credits in question were those for the movie Lord Jeff, made by M-G-M. James K. McGuinness received credit for the screenplay, while four Guild members received less prestigious 35 Variety, February 23, 1938, p. 4. 144 credits for the original story and research. 3(5 Throughout these confrontations, the Screen Playwrights suffered from a lack of financial backing. At no time in its history did the organization have more than 150 members and many of these did not pay dues to the organization or support it in any meaningful way. Many were members in name only, since some of the studios required member ship in the Playwrights as a condition for signing a writing contract. The Screen Playwrights financed their part of the N.L.R.B. fight and subsequent battles through dues and from special donations from par ticularly dedicated members. $10,000 was raised through cash donations and through a bank loan signed by ten members of the Screen Play wrights. 3 ^ Twelve other writers provided, in addition to their dues, twenty per cent of one week's salary to support the Playwrights. 3 ^ These writers formed the real core of the writers opposed to the Screen Writers' Guild. 3 ^ The original elitist conception of the Screen Play wrights made it virtually impossible to operate effectively and win the 36 Variety, May 25, 1938, p. 7. 3 ?The ten were John Lee Mahin, Bert Kalmar, Bess Meredyth, Waldemar Young, John Meehan, William Slavens McNutt, Grover Jones, William Conselman, Walter De Leon, and Howard Emmett Rogers. -^Patterson McNutt, Virginia Van Upp, Frederick Hazlitt Brennan, Harlin Ware, Jack Cunningham, Francis Wallace, J.C. Moffitt, Casey Robinson, Gene Towne, William Anthony McQuire, Graham Baker, James Kevin McGuinness. 39 Variety, February 14, 1940, p. 5, quoting John Lee Mahin. 145 support of writers under the jurisdiction of the equalitarian Wagner Act and the National Labor Relations Board. The Guild's initial poll of the writers employed by the movie studios on June 4 certified that, if the writers voted for their own or ganizations, the Guild would carry the election handily. According to the Screen Writers' Guild, it had 224 writers working on June 4, while the Screen Playwrights had but 53 members working under contract that day. 104 writers were working without affiliation with either of the writers' organizations.*^ The working-writer ratio corresponded closely to the over-all membership ratio claimed at the time for all writers in Hollywood: the Guild had 615 members, and the Playwrights had 158, ac cording to Variety.^ The election was held on June 28 and the producers did every thing possible to obstruct the elections. Major Walter Tuller set the tone of the producers' point-of-view: "We are not conceding this elec tion is legal. We intend to resist it in every way possible.The studios would not allow voting on their property, so three voting places were set up, two in vacant buildings and one in a Catholic church in Culver City. Nor would the studios release an official list of the wri ters in their employ as of June 4. This presented particular problems ^Variety, June 15, 1938, p. 7. Variety, June 8, 1938, p. 21. ^Variety, June 15, 1938, p. 7. 146 for the election officials to determine a writer's eligibility to vote in the election. Dr. Nylander of the Regional N.L.R.B. contemplated le gal action against the producers and the Screen Playwrights for ob structing the election. Instead, a complicated procedure of writer reg istration was instituted to by-pass the producers' lack of cooperation. The N.L.R.B. had previously denied the Guild request to bargain with the Motion Picture Producers' Association as a unit, instead of with each studio separately. Given this situation, the total votes cast in the election could have been strongly in favor of the Guild and still a majority of writers in a single studio or more could vote for the Screen Playwrights, choosing that group to be their bargaining repre sentative at that studio or those studios. It was a confusing situation and one which could have vitiated the bargaining positions of either group with the producers. Considering the transience of writers from studio to studio, a mixed outcome on the election could have spelled disaster. In particular, the Screen Playwrights' strongholds, Metro- Goldwyn-Mayer arid Paramount, were being contested in the election. At each of these studios, the unaffiliated writers were considered to hold the balance of power in the determination whether the Guild would emerge victorious at the end of this particular battle. The three creative talent guilds banded together to urge writer support of the Guild. Rouben Mamoulian, President of the Screen Direc tors' Guild, offered public support for the Screen Writers' Guild. Screen Actors' Guild President, Robert Montgomery, offered these words 147 of encouragement. It is time for every writer to choose his side. We have no sym pathy for fence-sitters. The issue is clear. No vote at all is just as bad as a vote for the Screen Playwrights. Either is a stab in the back, not only to writers but all creative talent. The Screen Actors Guild expects the great body of writers to do its simple duty—vote overwhelmingly for the Screen Writers' Guild.43 Before the election, 331 writers were registered to vote. Others voted after signing an affadavit that they were employed by a specific studio on June 4.^ A total of 368 writers cast ballots in the elec tion and the Guild scored a significant victory. Even at M-G-M, the Guild managed a respectable 63 to 33 total. The writers in the twelve other studios voted even more convincingly in favor of the Screen Wri ters' Guild as their representative in collective bargaining: SWG SP Paramount Pictures RKO Radio Pictures Universal Pictures Republic Productions Columbia Pictures Twentieth Century-Fox Film Warner Brothers Pictures Hal Roach Studios Monogram Productions Darmour Selznick International Samuel Goldwyn 60 30 22 25 17 38 38 5 4 3 3 2 14 0 2 1 0 0 0 0 0 5 ^Variety, June 29, 1938, p. 7. 148 The five other studios ordered to hold elections had no writers vote in the elections, with the exception of the one vote cast for the Screen Writers' Guild at Walter Wanger Productions, Inc. His one vote could not qualify the Guild as a representative in collective bargaining since more than one person must join in collective bargaining.^5 Variety predicted on the day after the election that the follow ing sequence of events would take place: the Guild would be certified as the writers' exclusive bargaining agency at the thirteen studios, the producers would be ordered by the N.L.R.B. to open negotiations with the Guild, the producers would refuse and then be cited by the federal courts for refusing to bargain. Meaningful negotiations, it said, would be delayed at least one year.46 On August 9, the N.L.R.B. certified the Screen Writers' Guild as the exclusive bargaining agency for writers at each of the thirteen studios where the Guild had received a majority of the votes cast in the election. The producers objected that many of the writers who cast bal lots were not actually employed by the studios on the 4th of June. The Board ruled that the producers were "clearly not in a position to object to the procedure which was followed,since their refusal to release a list of their employees caused the problems in the first place. ^^New York Times, August 10, 1938, p. 5. ^Variety, June 29, 1938, p. 7. ^Variety, August 10, 1938, p. 7. 149 Fresh from its victory over the Screen Playwrights, but still smarting from the Playwrights' accusations of the Communist inspiration of its efforts, the Guild requested the N.L.R.B. to dissolve the con tract between the Screen Playwrights and the Producers' Association. This it did not do. Dudley Nichols' remark prior to the elections is indicative of the Guild's sensitivity to charges of Communism: "every time we have an olive branch these men see the cloven hoof. They imag ine any writer bold enough to stand up for his reasonable rights must be a radical."^ Yet James K. McGuinness, one of the Guild's arch foes and the leader of the first group to leave the Guild refering to Stalins and the like, was the first publically to return to the Guild after its certification as the writers' official representative.^ 9 It was this same James K. McGuinness who later became one of the leaders, along with fellow ex-Playwrights Rupert Hughes^ and Howard Emmett Rogers, of the Motion Picture Alliance for the Preservation of American Ideals--a group fervently opposed to Communism and other assorted un-American ac tivities. 5 ^ ^Variety, June 15, 1938, p. 7. ^Variety, August 10, 1938, p. 21. 50 McGuinness and Hughes were two of the so-called "friendly wit nesses" before the House Committee on Un-American Activities in 1947. Unfriendly witnesses became known as the Hollywood Ten and were among the leaders of the Screen Writers' Guild at this time. ci John Cogley, Report on Blacklisting (New York: The Fund for the Republic, 1957), p. 59. 150 The Guild once more requested producer recognition of its status as exclusive bargaining agency for the writers employed by each respec tive studio. Darryl F. Zanuck, executive producer for Twentieth Cen tury-Fox, had earlier (August 24) been named by the Producers' Associa tion to head a committee of producers, along with E.J. Mannix and Samuel Briskin, to negotiate with both the Screen Directors' Guild and the Screen Writers' Guild without recognizing the jurisdiction of the National Labor Relations Board in the matter. 52 The screen writers were represented in the negotiations by a committee with six members: Lillian Hellman, Tristam Tupper, Anthony Veiller, Charles Brackett, Sheridan Gibney, and Donald Ogden Stewart. They had been charged by the Guild to negotiate with the following items, with other items, such as a Guild shop, which remained implicit: 1) Prohibition against a writer being switched from one story to another before completing the first; 2) A clause allowing changes in a script only with the writer present; 3) The Guild to determine the awarding of screen credits, rather than the producer; 4) Screen credits for writers limited to only "screenplay by..." and "original story by..."; 5) No contract between a writer and a producer to last longer than three years; 6) Writer-producer agreement to last one year; 52 Variet.y, August 24, 1938, p. 7. 151 7) All contract disputes to be settled by arbitration. At the initial meeting between the committees of producers and writers (September 19, 1938), the Guild again demanded that the Playwrights' contract be cancelled. The producers in turn refused to consider can celling the contract, saying that could not be done legally. They also made clear their intention not to consider granting a Guild shop, nor would they consider guaranteeing that they would agree to any of the writers' demands. The initial meeting broke up with hostility on both sides and the Guild claimed the producers were not there to negotiate at all. That same day, the Guild sent letters to each of the studios de manding producer recognition and purposeful bargaining.^ The Screen Writers' Guild was the writers' exclusive bargaining agency, but the producers were elusive bargainers. The bargaining tables were turned a bit when Dr. Nylander, of the Regional N.L.R.B., reprimanded the Guild for breaking up the negotia tions in September. He maintained that the Guild should have remained to bargain with the producers despite their refusal to recognize the Guild officially.^ The fact that they were meeting with the Guild bar gaining committee constituted tacit recognition in any case. Rebuffed at Nylander's unsympathetic handling of the case, the Guild was able to 53 The Screen Writer, III, No. 11 (1948), p. 31. Variety, December 21, 1938, p. 7. 152 shift the handling of their complaints to the National Board of the N.L.R.B., instead of the regional one headed by Nylander. This effect of what amounts to a change of venue angered the producers who claimed that the screen writers brought political pressure on the N.L.R.B. be cause the regional N.L.R.B. did not think the Guild's complaints were warranted. Nevertheless, it was a coup for the writers, but one which re-enforced producer animousity toward the Guild. The change to the Washington-based N.L.R.B. resulted in citations being lodged against ten major studios for violations of the Wagner Act: Paramount, RKO, M-G-M, Twentieth Century-Fox, Columbia, Universal, Warner Brothers, Selznick, Roach, and Goldwyn Studios were each cited by the N.L.R.B.in February, 1939. 55 Significantly, the studios were not charged with re cent violations; all the offenses were prior to the writer elections. At this point, the studios presented a most hostile image to the N.L.R.B. On August 17, 1938, the same ten studios had been cited by the N.L.R.B. for their refusal to bargain with the Screen Directors' Guild. 56 Then, on February 1, 1939, they were again cited, this time for other violations of the Wagner Act. 5 ' 7 Though the producers had quickly recognized one talent guild, S.A.G., their good will and credi bility was seriously in doubt. The N.L.R.B. scheduled hearings to de- 55 Variety, February 1, 1939, p. 5. 56 Variet.y, August 17, 1938, p. 6. ^Variety, February 1 , 1939, p. 18. 153 termine culpability in the matter and there was little doubt beforehand as to the final outcome of the hearings. As with the case of the Actors' Guild, it took the combination of a strike threat by the Screen Directors' Guild along with the threat of direct intervention by the N.L.R.B. to coerce the producers to recognize the Directors' Guild. They officially recognized the Screen Directors' Guild late in February, 1939, less than two weeks before the N.L.R.B. hearings were to begin.^8 By the end of April, the Screen Directors' Guild had negotiated and signed a basic working agreement with the major studios assuring them at least an 80% Guild shop for both directors and assistant directors.^ At the beginning of the N.L.R.B. hearings in Washington, D.C., after the Screen Actors' Guild had been recognized and received a Guild shop of at least 90% and the Screen Directors' Guild had been recognized and was negotiating toward an 80% Guild shop, the members of the Screen Writers' Guild thought that their turn had finally come. Ostensibly, the producers thought so too. On March 7, 1939, Homer Mitchell, an at torney representing the producers, asked the N.L.R.B. to adjourn the hearings for two weeks to allow the Guild and the producers time to ne gotiate. He said quite candidly that the producers were now willing to recognize the Screen Writers' Guild as the writers' exclusive bargain- ^Variety, February 22, 1939, p. 5. - - ^Variety, April 26, 1939, p. 16. 154 ing agency. A committee composed of four attorneys—Mitchell, Mendel Silberberg, George Cohen, and Alfred Wright—together with a sub-commit tee of producers—Darryl F. Zanuck, E.J. Mannix, and Hal Wallis—were to negotiate with the Guild toward a basic working agreement. The Board ordered the hearings adjourned. 60 The producers assured the Board that they would recognize the Guild and that they would bargain with them. They did not assure the Board that they would come to terms with the Guild. The Guild's new negotiating committee—Leonard Janofsky, Charles Brackett, Philip Dunne, and Donald Ogden Stewart—found that it would be as difficult to bar gain with the producers as it was to get them to agree to bargain. Ne gotiations began around the fifteenth of March and continued with offers and counter-offers from both sides until May 5 when the Guild requested the N.L.R.B. to reopen its hearings because of the studios' unfair la bor practices, namely what the Guild considered their refusal to bar gain with the intent to reach an agreement. Charles Brackett said in a letter to Mendel Silberberg, one of the members of the producers' nego tiating committee, After reviewing proposals the [Executive] board is of the opin ion there is no indication of willingness on the part of the producers to consider sincerely the minimum proposals made by the Guild membership, namely (1), 80% Guild shop at outset of con tract; (2) contract term of three and a half years; (3) right of writer to own all material written during lay off period. 6 ' ^Variety, March 8, 1939, p. 5. ^As quoted in Variety, May 3, 1939, p. 7. 155 This was the second time the Screen Writers' Guild had broken off bar gaining with the producers' negotiating committee. There is some question who was actually at fault in this second break-down in bargaining. The producers contended publically that they CO did not take the Guild proposals as minimum bargaining terms, yet they were clearly so reported a month and a half before at the beginning of the bargaining sessions. At the time, the producers responded with an offer of a 70% Guild shop, a ten-year contract, and no permission for writers to write during non-paid lay-offs. 6 "* But the Guild's complaint that the producers refused to bargain with the writers is clearly not justified by the facts. The negotiations began in mid-March and by the end of March both sides had agreed on nine items, some of which drew major concessions from the producers. The producers and writers had agreed to the follow ing terms: 1) The Guild was granted complete jurisdiction for screen cred its [though no mention is made whether producers must change credits on prints of a movie]; 2) The establishment of a permanent arbitration board for dis putes on the basic agreement and on individual contracts [already granted to the Screen Playwrights in their contract]; 3) Provision for a minimum lay-off period of two weeks; ^Variety, May 10, 1939, p. 5. ^Variety, March 29, 1939, p. 6. 156 4) No industry-wide salary cut for writers without consulting the Guild; 5) More equitable system of payments for free-lance writers [1/3 at the time of the idea's acceptance, 1/3 at treatment's ac ceptance, 1/3 at screenplay's acceptance]; 6) Prohibition of speculative writing at producer's urging; 7) Principals of a minimum wage in lower salary brackets; 8) Guild agrees not to honor striking unions' picket lines; 9) Writers earning $150 per week or less receive one week vaca tion with pay for each 26 worked.64 These items were certainly determined by bargaining. The producers also bargained on the larger issues, but the Guild remained resolute in its demands. In early April, they offered a seven-year contract guarantee ing a 70% Guild shop for the first year, 75% the second year, and an 80% Guild shop thereafter. The writers were to be allowed to work on their own during lay-offs, but the rights to anything written were to be re served for their employers.Two weeks later, it was reported in Variety, but not confirmed, that the producers offered the Guild a five- year pact with a 75% Guild shop the first two years and 80% thereafter. This last offer was made before the watchful gaze of the N.L.R.B. trial examiner, James C. Batten,* 56 but it was not acknowledged by the Guild negotiating committee, which referred only to the offer of the seven- ^Ibid. ^Variety, April 5, 1939, p. 17. ^Variety, April 19, 1939, p. 23. 157 year contract--a contract which was not considered sufficiently attrac- CJ tive even to submit to the Guild's membership for consideration. Charles Brackett was quoted as saying, "...we cannot ask our members to surrender their freedom of action for seven years in return for such a contract."*' 8 On the face of it, it appears that the Guild was not ask ing the producers to bargain, it was demanding surrender. It demanded surrender in the name of bargaining, but was actually unwilling to bar gain on its three major points. Because both the Directors' Guild and the Actors' Guild success fully fought for at least an 80% Guild shop for their members, the wri ters would not consider settling for less. Doing so would have con firmed a lower status among the creative talents in Hollywood than the writers would ever willingly agree to. The producers, on the other hand, saw an 80% Guild shop commitment for writers as the cause of need less conflict with the members of the Screen Playwrights. If the Guild could not persuade writers to join the Guild, why should the producers agree to force them into the Guild? Besides, the producers' past in terests in the Playwrights remained to haunt the Guild. In the main, it was an issue of saving face: the producers strove to save face for themselves and for some of their most valued employees who they urged to join the Playwrights in the first place [and incidentally to gain ^Variety, May 3, 1939, p. 5. 68 Variety, May 10, 1939, p. 5. 158 more flexibility in hiring]; the writers in the Guild fought to save face by maintaining terms with the producers at least equal to the other creative talents. The length of the contract was a major contention because the shorter the contract, the sooner it would come up for re-negotiation. The Guild originally wanted a one-year contract and the producers of fered a ten-year contract. On this point, the Guild argued for a better working agreement than either the actors or directors received. The Screen Directors' Guild negotiated a nine-year contract, as did the Screen Actors' Guild. The American Society of Cinematographers signed a five-year contract. The Guild settled on arguing for a three-year contract, and later agreed to consider a three-and-a-half-year pact. The producers saw such a short contract as the prelude to an everlasting series of ever-increasing demands by the Screen Writers' Guild, such as they were then facing with the I.A.T.S.E. The third of the Guild's demands centered on what the writer ought to be allowed to do when he was 1 aid-off temporarily by his em ployer. The writers' contracts normally contained a clause which al lowed the studios to lay off a writer from his work at the studio to tally without pay and without warning. The length of time allowable for the lay-off varied with the individual's contract and was in addition to provisions for lay-off due to a so-called force majeure. Though a wri ter was without pay, he was still under contract to a studio. It was the Guild's contention that a writer should be paid for his work. Since the writer was not paid during the time he was laid off, any literary 159 work produced ought to be his property to dispose of as he pleased—in other words, to the highest bidder. The producers claimed that the right to any work written while a writer was under contract to a studio belonged to the studio, and, moreover, that while under contract to one studio a writer could not work for another studio even though the wri ter was not being paid by the studio he was contracted to. It was a subtle point and one which was open to abuse from both sides. The Screen Writers' Guild was in a bad tactical position in its negotiations with the producers because it reached its minimum accept able conditions altogether too quickly. Within two weeks of negotia tions, the Guild lost its entire bargaining position and had its back to the wall. In a way, it was punished for demanding items too close to the terms it actually wanted. The negotiations between writers and producers broke up in May, 1939, and the Guild then filed a complaint with the N.L.R.B. alleging the producers refused to bargain. An official appeal to the N.L.R.B. was presented later asking the N.L.R.B. to cancel the contract between the Screen Playwrights and the producers, to force the studios to cease engaging in unfair labor practices, and to compel an agreement from the 69 studios that they would not further refuse to bargain. The Guild's first request was granted immediately after it made the appeal, but the action came from an unexpected source, the Screen 69 Variety, February 14, 1940, p. 5. 160 Playwrights itself. The Playwrights, plagued by a lack of funds and a rapidly dwindling membership roster (only 29 members at the time), of fered to cancel its contract with the producers. The Playwrights had already relinquished the right to credit arbitration when screen cred its involved Guild members and, after September, 1939, new contracts with individual writers made no reference to the Screen Playwrights de termining credits.^ The producers accepted the writers' offer on Feb ruary 13, 1940, and the cancellation of the contract was announced the following day.^ The Screen Playwrights folded up at the same time. Thereafter, only two points remained in the Guild's appeal to the N.L.R.B. The N.L.R.B. was not to rule on the appeal until March, 1940. At that time, N.L.R.B. trial examiner, J.J. Fitzpatrick, reported that the producers had yet to bargain with the Guild and he stated that eight of the studios had "violated the labor law by interfering with and malign- 72 ing their writers' activities in the Screen Writers' Guild." Despite this report favorable to the Guild, the N.L.R.B. issued an intermediate report which gave support to both sides in the controversy. It decided that indeed the producers had bargained with the Guild in good faith, ^Variety, September 6, 1939, p. 4. ^Variety, February 14, 1940, p. 5. ^New York Times, March 10, 1940, p. 46. 161 but that they ought to quit fighting the Guild and quickly negotiate a compromise working agreement. Chairman J. Warren Madden noted the pro ducers' evident animosity toward the Screen Writers' Guild, but also judged that they did bargain fairly. Before the decision was reached, Madden had ordered the removal of one of the Board examiners, Bernard L. Alpert, and replaced him with Dr. William S. Leiserson. Letters bet ween Leonard Janofsky, the Guild's attorney, and Alpert indicated by the former's tone of familiarity that the Guild so to speak had a friend in 73 court. Leiserson had earlier charged that the Guild's complaints had been inspired by someone connected with the N.L.R.B. and were not lodged in good faith. Though Charles Brackett wired the House Labor Relations Investigating Committee that this was not so, it appears that the Guild did rely very heavily on the expected weight of the Board's decision.74 The Screen Writers' Guild proclaimed a victory after the announcement of the intermediate decision, but this must have left a bitter taste in the mouth. It appealed the decision shortly thereafter. The Screen Actors' Guild had settled down with its 90% Guild shop and was marshalling its forces for a closed shop demand for extras and bit-players. The Screen Directors' Guild had its 80% Guild shop. Both the American Society of Cinematographers and the Screen Publicists' ^Variety, March 13, 1940, p. 7. 74 Variety, January 10, 1940, p. 20. 162 Guild were granted virtually a 100% Guild shop after strikes were threatened.^ The Screen Writers' Guild began a very public considera tion of a 100% Guild-shop demand of its own. The Executive Board pointed out that it had been two years since the Guild membership had been directly consulted on what it wished to bargain for. The Guild sent questionaires to writers in Hollywood, both members and non-members of the Guild, asking for their advice on the various possible contract points to be bargained for with the producers. 7 ® it appears that the Guild was trying to remedy its poor bargaining position by increasing its demands so that it could retreat gracefully back to its previous minimum position. The writers and producers finally began to bargain in earnest. The Guild made the first concession. It agreed to waive all rights to material created while being laid off, if. the writer was paid for the time spent when the material was accepted. The writers also agreed to give their employers first option on the material even if they were not paid for the lay-off period. 77 A new Guild negotiating committee was appointed with its new President, Sheridan Gibney, as a member, along with Charles Brackett, Mary C. McCall, Jr., Boris Ingster, Ralph Block, and Dore Schary. The producers retained their former group of attorneys ^Variety, August 30, 1939, p. 4. 76 Variety, April 24, 1940, p. 7. ^Variety, May 8, 1940, p. 7. 163 (Silberman, Wright, Cohen, Mitchell) as their representatives.^ The negotiations soon bore a tiny fruit. On July 10, 1940, Variety reported that the Guild representatives and the producers' rep resentatives had come to a tentative, interim agreement, but no details of the agreement were released at the time.79 They returned to present the agreement to their respective bodies. The Guild favored the six- month agreement which set up an 80% Guild shop, forbade speculative writing at the producers' instigation, established a grievance committee for writer-producer disputes, and gave the Screen Writers' Guild the power to determine screen credits. However, the producers refused to sign the agreement. The Executive Board of the Guild set up a commit tee to discuss the formation of an emergency fund, presumably in pre paration for a strike if the producers continued their balkiness.^O This feint by the Guild seemed to change the producers' position some what and negotiations resumed between the Guild and the producers. At long last, a makeshift, incomplete agreement was signed by both parties on October 2, 1940, to go into effect October 10, 1940, and last for six months. The terms announced included formal recogni tion of the Guild as the exclusive bargaining agency for all film wri ters in California, an 80% Guild shop, and the Guild to determine screenplay credits subject to arbitration. The actual terms of the ^Variety, August 21 , 1940, p. 12. 164 agreement did not confirm an 80% Guild shop. Ironically, the producers opted to maintain the existing status quo and insisted on keeping the percentage of Guild writers at each studio the same as on the first day the contract went into effect. Thus, if a given studio had only 60% Guild writers on October 10, then that studio would operate with at least a 60% Guild shop for the entire six-month period of the contract?^ At the time the contract was signed, this percentage would have dipped below the 80% level at a few studios. The Guild worked quickly in the week between the signing of the contract and the day it went into effect to sign new members into the Guild. The membership drive resulted, much to the studios' dismay, in a 90% industry-wide Guild shop on the tenth of October. The percentages of Guild writers at each studio were re ported to be Goldwyn, 100%; M-G-M, 96%; RK0, 93%; Twentieth Century-Fox, 93%; Warner Brothers, 86%; Paramount, 85%; Universal, 84%; and Columbia, OO 80%. By the end of the year, the Guild had signed an equivalent con tract with virtually every independent studio, too.^ The Guild's coup on the matter of its effective Guild shop enhanced its members' morale, but probably increased the difficulty of negotiations between the two parties. The producers did not want to be made to look foolish twice. The producers laid the ground work carefully for the further ne- ^Variety, October 16, 1940, p. 6. 82 Variety, November 6, 1940, p. 15. ^Variety, January 1, 1941, p. 7. 165 gotiations with the Guild which were to take place during the six-month contract. They added a clause to each new contract their writers signed which said that in case no writer-producer contract was in ef fect at the time screen credits were to be determined, the producers would determine credits as before. This clause was known as Clause X oa or Exhibit X. The Guild objected strenuously to the clause to no avail and it can be taken as indicative of the producers' state of mind. They were out to delay negotiations and to exist without a firm con tract for as long as possible. The producers saw what basic agreements could lead to. The ac tors were talking closed shop and the directors were demanding a 90% Guild shop, instead of 80%, while both groups were talking of minimum wages higher than those prevailing. Though bargaining between the Guild and the producers was supposed to be proceeding during the six- month contract, little was actually accomplished. The Guild asked for a minimum wage of $150 per week, prohibition of speculative writing, a ban on one picture contracts (known as "flat deals") which paid a wri ter less than $5,000, and Guild control of screenplay credits. The pro ducers asked to be left alone. The writer-producer six-month agreement expired on April 10, 1941. One month later, there was still little prospect of agreement between the two parties. The producers offered a $50 per week minimum ^Variety, January 8, 1941, p. 32. 166 wage. The Guild wanted a $150 per week minimum. They could hardly dis cuss the other items the writers wanted. The Guild began to canvas its members about their feelings concerning a general walkout if the produ cers would not consent to a reasonable contract. Boris Ingster, one of the members of the Guild negotiating committee, correctly pointed out that the Screen Writers' Guild had provided the foundation upon which all the other guilds in Hollywood (without question the creative talent guilds) had built to secure their contracts and agreements on working conditions. He said, Today, we have nothing but the promise of the Producers to bar gain with us, which right the National Labor Relations Act gives us. And, today that is all we have--a promise to bargain. It has now come to the point where we must give our bargaining com mittee a weapon—the right to strike.85 The Radio Writers' Guild voted to support the Screen Writers' Guild strike if it was called, and general writers' sympathy for the Guild's strike was reported in the media. 86 Nevertheless, a strike was not called. Instead, the members of the Guild voted to meet with the producers once more, but this time they gave the Guild's negotiating committee what Boris Ingster asked for, something more than empty threats of a future writers' strike with which to bargain. The 950 ac tive and associate members of the Screen Writers' Guild voted to build 85 Variet,y, May 7, 1941, p. 26. 86 Variet.y, May 14, 1941, p. 3. 167 a $50,000 strike fund, a so-called war chest, by assessing each member of the Guild his fair share based on his movie earnings. In addition, Marc Connelly—a former President of the Authors' League and a prominent screen writer—began a march toward a second $50,000 in funds by making a donation from the floor. More cash contributions and pledges were volunteered by those present so that, by the end of the evening, nearly thirty thousand mora dollars found their way into the Guild's war chest. The latest offer tendered by the producers' representatives included a ten-year agreement with an 80% Guild shop and a $100 minimum weekly wage after the third year of the agreement. The Guild had modified its own demands somewhat by lowering its flat deal limit from $5,000 to $2,500, but it still wanted a one-year agreement and still wanted the $150 per week minimum wage. The writers thought the collection of the 87 strike fund might be the answer. Through the years, it appears that the only way to coerce or per suade the movie studios to recognize any of the labor organizations was actively to threaten a strike. A.S.C., I.A.T.S.E., S.A.G., S.D.G., and the Screen Publicists' Guild each had to be on the verge of a strike vote before they each received a working agreement. In 1936, the Screen Writers' Guild built itself to the point of striking and folded in the face of writer disunity. Ironically, the founders of the guild system could not make it work for themselves. ^Variety, May 21, 1941, p. 6. 168 Now, in 1941, unity finally achieved, the writers of Hollywood faced their employers head on. On June 16, 1941, the two negotiating commit tees reached a tentative accord and a new seven-year agreement was an nounced.^ 8 Though the agreement was only "in principle" the terms an nounced were generally quite specific and amounted to a substantial im provement in the writers' lot. The terms agreed to "in principle" included an 85% Guild shop for the first three years and 90% thereafter, together with a complete pro hibition of writing on speculation instigated by a producer. The Guild gained complete control of the determination of screen credits and a standing committee was to be formed to deal with them. A minimum wage of $125 per week was guaranteed each writer within one year of the sign ing of the contract. Items of lesser importance, but improvements over existing conditions, included the producers' agreement to give one week's notice to writers earning less than $500 per week if employed longer than eight weeks and two weeks notice if employed over a year; flat deals for regular features for a figure less than $1,500 were banned, as were westerns and action photoplays for less than $1,000; it would be manditory for writers to be informed when other writers were working on the same material if the writer requested the information; qo The producers' vulnerability to the threat of a strike was by this time well known to everyone in Hollywood. The newspapers at the time were full of the stories of I.A.T.S.E. leaders, Willie Bioff and George E. Browne, being indicted for extorting over half-a-million dol lars from the studios by threatening a walk-out by film craftsmen. 169 expense money was assured for writers required on location work; and it was agreed that the writers would be notified when sneak previews of movies they worked on were to be shown.^ This seven-year contract was to be open for renegotiation after three years and every two years thereafter. The announced contract for a basic working agreement was to be the absolute justification of the Guild's opposition to the Wri ters' Branch of the Academy and to its bitter fight against the Screen Playwrights. It constituted a major victory for the Guild. Now all the writers had to do was get the producers to sign it. A full eleven months later, on May 11, 1942, the completed con tract, approved and signed by the producers, was presented for final ratification by the general membership of the Guild at its annual meet ing. This was actually only a formality since the Guild had already accepted the producers' offer with a unanimous vote on June 16, 1941, one week after it had been tentatively agreed to by both negotiating 90 committees. Rather anti-climactically, the contract was approved at that meeting on May 11, effective ten days earlier, May 1, 1942. It was known as the "Producer-Screen Writers' Guild Inc. Minimum Basic Agreement of 1942" and was signed by the Guild and the ten major stu dios: Columbia, Goldwyn, Loew's, Paramount, RKO, Republic, Roach, Twen tieth Century-Fox, Universal, and Warner Bros. The original terms of 89 Variety, June 18, 1941, p. 5. 90 The Screen Writer, III, No. 11 (1948), p. 31. 170 the contract between the producers and the Screen Playwrights called for it to continue in force until April 19, 1942, just two weeks prior to the effective date of the new Guild-producer contract. Perhaps this was not an unintended ironic note sounded by the producers. For all the delay, the contract between the producers and the Guild represented a retreat by the producers and a general granting of many of the writers' demands. Their demands since 1933 and the produ cers' responses to each by 1942 are listed below for easy analysis. They are listed below under four headings: items granted, items granted partially, items not granted, and dead issues. (Dates following items are those when the demands were first presented to the producers.) ITEMS GRANTED 1) Collective bargaining with the Screen Writers' Guild representing writers (1933) [Granted 1942, Article 3] 2) Written contracts required with writer receiving a copy (1935) [Granted 1942, Article 6 ; the Guild also received a copy] 3) Writing on speculation for a producer prohibited (1935) [Granted 1942, Article 10] 4) Travel expenses to and from location, and lodging if necessary, provided if producer requires a writer's presence (1935) [Granted 1942, Article 12] 5) Practical system for credit determination (1936) [Granted 1942, Schedule A] 171 6) Layoff for one continuous period (1936) [Granted 1942, Article 9; minimum of three weeks] 7) Termination notice for week-to-week writers (1936) [Granted 1937, after minimum 10-week employment, one week no tice. Granted 1942, after minimum 8-week employment, one week notice.] 8) Notification when another writer or writers are working on the same material (1936) [Granted 1942, Article 8] 9) Cancellation of the Screen Playwrights-Producer contract (1938) [Contract cancelled, February, 1940] 10) Screen Writers' Guild to determine credits (1938) [Granted 1942, Schedule A] 11) Screen credits limited to "Screenplay by..." and "Original story by..." (1938) [Granted 1942, Schedule A] 12) All contract disputes to be settled by arbitration (1938) [Granted 1942, Article 16] 13) 80% Guild shop (1940) [Granted 1942, Article 4; 85% Guild shop for first three years, 90% thereafter] ITEMS GRANTED PARTIALLY 1) 3 1/2-year writer-producer contract (1940) [1942, Article 2 calls for a seven-year contract partially re- negotiable after three years] 172 2) Minimum wage for a "flat deal" contract, $5,000--subsequently re duced to a minimum of $2,500 (1940) [1942, Article 19 establishes a minimum flat deal rate of $1,500 for feature motion picture screenplays, and $1,000 for westerns and action plays] 3) $150 per week minimum wage for week-to-week contracts (1940) [1942, Article 21 calls for a $125 per week minimum wage, starting one year after the effective date of the contract] ITEMS NOT GRANTED 1) Not more than twelve weeks of layoffs in one year (1935) 2) One week notice before layoff, including its duration (1935) 3) Writer not on call while laid off (1935) 4) Layoffs from force majeure: one week per quarter hired, no pay; plus one week per quarter hired, one-half pay (1935) 5) Anti-raiding agreements forbidden (1935) 6) Prohibition of option contracts with only the producer having an option (1936) 7) Writers' right to accept employment while laid off (1936) 8) Prohibition of blacklists (1936) 9) Writers to be able to reserve rights other than movie rights for original screenplays (1936) 10) Prohibition of switching a writer from one story to another before he has completed the first (1938) 11) Changes in screenplay only with its writer's permission (1938) 12) Writer-Producer agreement to last one year only (1938) 13) Writer to own rights to all material produced while being laid off (1940) 173 DEAD ISSUES 1) Agents uncontrolled by producers (1936) 2) No further attempt to form a central booking office (1936) 3) Code authority to enforce the N.R.A. Motion Picture Code (1933) In addition, items which were agreed to by the producers but not con tained in the contract of 1942 included their agreement to pay free lance writers in three equal portions the amount called for in their "flat deal" contract. The producers also agreed not to impose any fur ther general salary cuts for writers without first consulting the Guild. The contract items which the writers bargained for, but did not gain, fall into three main areas: the rights of screen writers concern ing layoffs, including limits on duration and privileges (1,2,3,4,7,13); the writers' attempt to gain artistic control of their work (9,10,11); and their attempt to escape restrictions on their employment and sala ries (5,6,8,12). In these areas, the producers remained firm. With the signing of the Minimum Basic Agreement of 1942 came the end of a conflict which had lasted over twenty years. It established the foundation for negotiations between writers and producers in the years to come. The questions remains, though, why was this agreement so difficult to negotiate? Why did it happen that the writers were the first of the creative talent groups to seek a minimum working agreement and the last to suceed in negotiating one? The question has, at the same time, many answers and no answer. The whole of the question is 174 greater than the sum of the answers. Nevertheless, the following fac tors entered into the situation. East is East and West is West... The originator of the Screen Writers' Guild was the Authors' League of America and the formation of the guild system therein. The power of the Dramatists' Guild on the East coast was aspired to by many of the screen writers on the West coast. The producers abhorred the possibility of their employees ever attaining such influence on the mo vies they financed and produced. The producers opposed Equity's attempts to organize Hollywood with equal vigor. Perhaps all of this amounts to nothing more than a fear of Eastern domination of their affairs. Hollywood first became a center for movie production when the producers fled West away from the Motion Picture Patents organization. Following the introduction of talking motion pictures, Eastern financial interests maintained a sub stantial voice in determining the future course of the studios. The prospect of further inroads from the East in the form of an Eastern- based actors' union or writers' union must have been odious to the pro ducers. A union was bad enough, but an Eastern union was altogether too bad. By the time the Guild was divorced from the Authors' League of America, the producers' enmity was well established. We must indeed all hang together, or, most assuredly, we shall all hang separately. 175 Some of the screen writers of Hollywood also distrusted the East. Eastern dramatists were continually being imported from the East, threatening the established writers' positions in the industry, and at the same time disdaining the work, the artistry, and the patience re quired of the professional screen writer. Disunity plagued the Screen Writers' Guild, at first because those writers at the top of their pro fession were reaping such handsome rewards, and later because many of the same writers saw the amalgamation of the Authors' League and the Screen Writers' Guild as a threat to their prominent position, by giving minor writers as much say as major writers in the Guild. The movie studios established a clear precedent that labor unions had to be able actively to threaten a strike before they would be recog nized. The Screen Writers' Guild was not in a position to do so until 1941. Disunity carried its own lack of reward. The writers were also hampered by a kind of anonymity peculiar to the screen writer. They suffered a facelessness which no amount of financial reward could overcome. The actors were recognized nearly world-wide, the directors were featured artists, but the writer? William Hoi den in Sunset Boulevard accurately summed up the writer's position in film. Audiences don't think somebody writes a picture. They think the actors make it up as it goes along. 01 Sunset Boulevard, direct quote. 176 The Screen Writers' Guild brought to Hollywood the concept of the minimum basic agreement for creative talent contracts. Its re-or ganized structure in 1933 proved to be the model for the Screen Actors' Guild and the Screen Directors' Guild, as well as many of the forty-odd other guilds representing the many labor and craft groups in the indus try. It continued its leadership in Hollywood by serving as the test case for creative talent unionization before the National Labor Rela tions Board. The precedent determined in that test case set the foun dation for future labor negotiations throughout the movie industry, es tablishing the right for creative talent employees to organize in a bar gaining unit for the purpose of collective bargaining. Its continued fight both for producer recognition and a minimum basic agreement—a fight which first began in 1920--ended momentarily in 1942 with the writers' successful bargaining for the Producer-Screen Writers' Guild Minimum Basic Agreement of 1942. The Agreement granted the Guild a ma jority of its desired bargaining points and left the writers looking forward to a renewed confrontation with the producers in the future. The war was not over, but a major battle had been won. SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY Books Carman, Harry J. and Syrett, Harold C. A History of the American Peo ple, Vol. II. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1958. Chandler, Lester V. America's Greatest Depression, 1929-1941. New York: Harper and Row, 1970. Cogley, John. Report on Blacklisting. New York: The Fund for the Re public, 1957. Corliss, Richard, ed. The Hollywood Screenwriters: A Film Comment Book. New York: Discus Books, 1972. Dissertation Abstracts, 1950-1972. Ann Arbor, Mich.: University Micro films, n.d. Dulles, Foster Rhea. Labor in America: A History. New York: Thomas Y. Crowell Co., 1949. Froug, William. The Screenwriter Looks At the Screenwriter. New York: Macmillan Company, 1972. Harding, Alfred. The Revolt of the Actors. New York: William Morrow & Co., 1929. Huettig, Mae D. Economic Control of the Motion Picture Industry: A Study in Industrial Organization. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania, 1944. Jacobs, Lewis. The Rise of the American Film: A Critical History. New York: Teachers College Press, 1971. Kniqht, Arthur. The Liveliest Art. New York: New American Library, 1957. Manful!, Helen, ed. Additional Dialogue: Letters of Dalton Trumbo, 1942-1962. New York: M.Evans and Company, 1970. Peterson, Florence. American Labor Unions: What They Are and How They Work. New York: Harper and Bros., 1944. 177 178 Ross, Murray. Stars and Strikes: Unionization of Hollywood. New York: Columbia University Press, 1941. Rosten, Leo C. Hollywood: The Movie Colony, The Movie Makers. New York: Arno Press and the New York Times, 1970. Thomas, Bob. King Cohn: The Life and Times of Harry Cohn. New York: G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1967. Thomas, Bob. Thai berg: Life and Legend. Garden City: Doubleday and Co., 1969. U.S. Government. National Labor Relations Board. Decisions and Orders of the National Labor Relations Board, Vol. VII, May 1, 1938- June 30, 1938. Washington, D.C.: U.S. Government Printing Of fice, 1938. Articles and Periodicals Authors' League Bulletin, April, 1913--March, 1945. Business Week, 1935--1942. The Film Spectator, March 20, 1926—June 6, 1931. McCall, Mary C., Jr. "A Brief History of the Guild." The Screen Wri ter, April, 1948, III, No. 11, pp. 25-31. Motion Picture World, 1912—1918. The New Republic, 1936. New York Times, January, 1907—December, 1945. Patterson, Frances Taylor. "The Author and Hollywood." The North Amer ican Review, Autumn, 1937, CCXLIV, No. 1, pp. 77-87. The Photoplaywright, April, 1919—April, 1921. The Photodramatist, May, 1921—March, 1925. The Screen Guilds' Magazine, March, 1934—March, 1938. The Photoplay Author and Writers' Monthly, May, 1913—May, 1916. The Screen Writer, June, 1945—October, 1948. 179 The Screen Writers' Magazine, July, 1934. The Script (Photoplay Authors' League), October, 1914—December, 1915. The Script (Screen Writers' Guild), December 10, 1921 —July 16, 1923. Stulberg, Gordon. "Writers' Guilds and Writers' Contracts." Syllabus on Legal Aspects of the Entertainment Industry. Vol. II. Beverly Hills Bar Association, 1956, pp. 1-29. Trumbo, Dal ton. "The Fall of Hollywood." The North American Review, August, 1933, CCXL, No. 1, pp. 140-147. Trumbo, Dalton. "Hollywood Pays: Proving You Can't Fool All of the People All the Time." Forum, February, 1933, pp. 113-119. Variety, January, 1910--December, 1943. Unpublished Materials Sands, Pierre. "A Historical Study of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences." Unpublished Master's thesis, University of Southern California, Los Angeles, 1967. Vaughn, Robert Francis. "A Historical Study of the Influence of the House Committee on Un-American Activities on the American Thea tre, 1938-1958." Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, University of Southern California, Los Angeles, 1970. Writers' Guild of America, Inc. "Brief Outline of History and Organi zation of the Writers' Guild of America." Los Angeles: dated August 5, 1971. (Mimeographed.) APPENDIX Writer-Producer Code of Practice Guild Analysis of Writer-Producer Contract 180 j Writer-Producer On May i, 1932, a code of practice went into effect in the motion picture industry gov erning the business relations of free-lance writers with motion picture producers. The code has',been adopted by the Academy of Mo- j tion Picturc Arts and Sciences, having been j carefully formulated and negotiated by a com- | mittec of writers and a committee of pro- " ducers. It cavers the question of compensation for. ordered material and the perhaps even more difficult question of screen credit. The fact that writers and producers have reached an agreement on these important points repre sents a great step forward in their relation ships. The ratifying resolution, passed by the Academy Board of Directors and the actual ! text of the Code of Practice itself, follow: j RESOLUTION OF ACADEMY BOARD OF DIRECTORS - On April 21, 1932 Ratifying Writer-Producer Code of Practice Whereas, a Code of Practice has been drawn up by joint conference in the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences between • representatives of the producing and writing | branches of the industry: ! Now Therefore, Be It Resolved that this ! Code of Practice is hereby accepted as a valid ! instrument in the motion picture industry to | be administered by the Academy of Motion j Picture Arts and Sciences; j And, Be It Further Resolved that the Ex- j icutiv Secretary of the Academy be designated j to act a;, special representative of the Board ; of Directors in :he installation and mainten- • ance of such administration. j Signed: Jean Hersholt, Lawrence Grant, ' Conrad Nagel, Donald Crisp, Frank Capra, • Frank Lloyd, Irving G. Thalberg, B. P. j Schulberg, M. C. Levee, Karl Struss, Nugent j H. Slaughter, Max Ree, Waldemar Young, | Benjamin Glazer, A1 Cohn. TEXT OF WRITER-PRODUCER CODE OF PRACTICE Adopted on April 14, 1932, by Special Committees Appointed by the Writers and Producers Branches 181 Code Of Practice Paragraph One A free lance author who has worked for a producer on a week to week basis for a period of not less than ten consecutive weeks at a salary of $500.00 per week or less, shall be required to give and shall be entitled to receive not less than one week's notice prior tothe^ termination of his employment. Paragraph Two The provisions of this paragraph 2 relate - solely to free lance authors who are employed to write a treatment, a continuity, or a treat ment and continuity for a specified aggregate compensation. None of the provisions of tin's paragraph 2 relate to free lance authors who are employed on a week to week basis. The following shall be deemed to be minimum pro visions relative to the matters hereinafter in paragraph 2 set forth: (a) Upon the delivery of the completed treatment a specified amount shall be paid to the author. Should the producer desire the author to make changcs in the completed treat ment, it must notify the author of such changcs within one week after the delivery to it of the completed treatment. Thereupon the author shall make such reasonable changcs as may have been required by the producer, without the payment of any further compensation. (b) Withina specified number of days after the delivery of the completed treatment, or if the. author is required to make reasonable changes in the completed treatment then within a specified number of days after the completion of such reasonable changcs, the producer shall have the right to exercise an option to employ the author to write a first draft of the con tinuity. Upon the delivery of the first draft of the continuity a specified amount shall be paid to the author. Should the producer de sire the author to make changes in the first draft of the continuity, it must notify the author of such changes within ten days after the delivery to it of the first draft of the con tinuity. Thereupon the author shall make such reasonable changes as may have been re^ quired by the producer, without the payment: of any further compensation. (c) Within a specified number of days after the delivery of the first draft of the continuity, 182 or if the author is required to make reasonable ; changes in the first draft of the continuity, then : within a specified number of days after the completion of such reasonable changes, the producer shall have the right to exercise an ; option to employ the author to write a final . continuity. Should the producer desire the author to make changes in the final continuity as submitted, it must notify the author of such changes within two weeks after the delivery of the final continuity and hereupon the author shall make such reasonable changes as may be ( required by the producer. A specified amount shall be paid to the author when the final continuity, including such reasonable changes as may have been required by the producer, .has been delivered to the producer, but such payment shall not be contingent upon the ac ceptance or approval of the producer. (d) The specified amounts to be paid under the provisions of subdivisions (a) to (c), both inclusive, of this paragraph 2 need not be equal amounts, but arc to be mutually agreed upon ; and specified before the execution of the em- i ploymcnt contract. Likewise the specified number of days referred to in subdivisions ; (b) and (c) of this paragraph 2, constituting I the period of time within which the respective : options therein referred to may be exercised, i need not be equal but are to be mutually agreed upon and specified before the execution of the I employment contract. (e) The terms "treatment," "first draft of • continuity" and "final continuity" as used in I paragraph 2 hereof are hereby respectively de- | fined as follows: ! Treatment: A complete story outline indi- i eating character development in, and the action i of, each sequence. j First Draft of Continuity: The'first com- I plete draft of any script, in continuity form in-. I eluding full dialogue. Final Continuity: A completed revision of the continuity, in substantial accordance with , the instructions of the producer. Paragraph Three i Credit to screen authors shall be governed > by the following provisions: ' (a) The provisions of this paragraph 3 shall apply to all screen authors, whether free lance or under long term employment contract; provided, however, that in the case of any screen author whose contract of employment requires that credit be given him, the provisions of this paragraph 3 shall not be operative unless and until the producer shall have re ceived from such screen author a written waiver of his right to receive credit. (b) Where more than one screen author has been engaged on the treatment and con tinuity oif a photoplay, then all screen authors who have been so engaged shall have the right to agree amongst themselves as to which one or two of them shall receive credit for such au thorship. The producer shall give the screen authors an opportunity to view a showing of the photoplay at any time between its first •rough cut and its final version, the exact time to be designated by the producer on twenty- four hours' notice, either by wire, letter or phone; or if in the judgment of the producer a showing of the photoplay on twenty-four hours' notice would not be practical, then the producer may forward to each of such screen authors a cutting continuity of such photoplay. If within twenty-four hours after such show ing or within twenty-four hours after the forwarding of such cutting continuity, as the case may be, all of such screen authors have unanimously designated to the producer in writing the names of the one or two screen s.uthors tc whom credit shall be given, then and in that even the producer shall give credit to the screen authors so designated by causing the names of such designated screen authors to be printed in the release prints of such photoplay in the following manner: (I) Such credit shall be worded as follows: "A Screen Play By provided, however, that if such photo play. be based upon an original story and/or play written by one of said . designated screen authors, then and • in that event the producer, at its op- tion, may give credit to such screen * . .author by using only the following '.wording: • "Bv " .(II)' "The producer shall have the right to determine in which one of the follow- ing places such credit shall appear: (w) On the main title card of the photoplay; or . (x) On a separate title card; or (y) On the same title card as that on-which the name of the di rector appears; or (z) On a title card on which credits are given to persons other than the director or the author; provided, however, •V that in the case provided for : in this subdivision (z) credit I to the screen authors shall ap pear at the top of such title card and in type materially larger than that used to dis play the names of the other persons whose flames appear on such title card. (Ill) Excepting only credit to be given the author of an original and/or published story and I or play, and in the absence of contractual obligations to the con~ trary, all so-called screen "writing credits" shall be on one title card. (c) If all of the screen authors have not unanimously designated to the producer in •writing the names of the one or two screen authors to whom credit shall be given, within twenty-four hours after the showing of the photoplay or the forwarding of the cutting continuity, then and in that event the producer [shall have the right to give credit to as many < screen authors as it may desire, and such credit or credits shall be in such manner and/or •: form and/or placc as the producer may desig- ' nate and shall in no way be limited or restricted by the provisions of subdivision (b) hereof or otherwise. It is recommended, however, that ' where the producer has the right to designate the screen authors to whom credit shall be ; given, the producer shall endeavor to limit the same to as few credits as the producer may deem reasonably consistent with the particular circumstances of each case. Signed Motion Picture Companies and Producers' Representatives: Columbia Pictures Corpora tion, Harry Cohn; Fox Film Corporation, A1 ° Rockett; Feature Productions, Joseph M. Schenck; Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, Irving G. Thalberg; Paramount-Publix Corporation; B. P. Schulberg; RKO-Radio Studios, David O. Selznick; Tiffany Studios, Sam Bischoff; Uni versal Pictures Corporation, Carl Laemmle, Jr.; Warner Brothers-First National, Darryl Zanuck. Writers' Special Committee: Waldemar i Young, Chairman; Ralph Block, Clara Ber-. j anger, A1 Cohn, Bartlett Cormack, Martin ; Flavin, Oliver H. P. Garrett, Benjamin ; Glazer, Howard J. Green, Percy Heath, Ger- ' rit Lloyd, John Meehan, Herman Mankiewicz, i Jane Murfin, J. K. McGuinness, Richard ! Schayer, James Seymour, Frank Woods, Carey / i Wilson. 184 Guild Demands Academy Proposals 1. Written contracts: required in till cases. 1. After employment, a written contract must be tendered to the writer, containing nothing contradictory to the "basic agreement." Noth ing to prevent waiver of written contract.- 2. Delivery of contracts: in force only when signed and delivered by both parties. 2. A peculiar provision that leaves it to oral evidence when contract is enforced. Pro ducer need not sign. 3. Writing on speculation: prohibited -when initiated by a producer, except in case of roy alty contracts. 3. Prohibited except on original stories. 4. Compensation for free lance writers: 2S per cent of agreed price at lime of contract/ bat' ance on delivery txccpl in case of originals where paid on acceptance. ' 4. Upon delivery of completed adaptation and treatment first drafts or final screen play a "specified amount" shall be paid the writer. No provision for payment of balance. "Speci fied amount" to be agreed upon in advance. S. Producer may take option agreements for successive operations in the preparation of final screen play, but must specify the num ber of dt ys within which the option may be exerciseu. 5. Granted. 6. Termination of week to week contracts: one week's notice. 6. A free lance writer who has worked for a producer on a week to week basis for not less than ten consecutive weeks at a salary of $500.00 per week, or less, must give and re ceive one week's notice. 7. Lay-offs: A. Where a producer has arbitrary option: (1) One week's notice in writing must be given. (2) Lay-off period not more than 12 weeks'- in one yea,-,, or proportionate period for longer or shorter contracts. (3) Lay-off for minimum of 7 days and notice must specify duration. 7. Lay-offs: A. Where a producer has arbitrary option: (1) Five days notice in writing unless writer "voluntarily accepts" shorter ' notice. (Waiver invited). (2) No provision. (3) Minimum of 7 days but notice not re- - quired to state duration. 185 (4) Writer not on call during lay-off and may do other work. B. Where option is granted because of t4 strik*'s and unavoidable casualties" etc.: (1) Period limited to one week for each three months of contract at no pay and one week for each three months of con tract at one-half ptiv. (4) No provision. B. Where option' is granted bccausc o{ "strikes and unavoidable casualties 0 etc.: (I) No provision. "Basic agreement 11 specifically states not to apply to such cases. 8. Travel time: Full pay and all travelling ex penses back and forth while on location out side of city where producer has studio. 8. No provision. 9. Loans: must have tenter's written consent, 9. No provision. 10. Plagiarism liability'- no liability for costs, expenses or attorney's lees of producer if plagiarism not established. 10. Granted. U. Waiver: any attempt at waiver is void. 11. No provision. 12. Arbitration: disinterested arbitration; writer to pick organization to act for him. 12. No/provision. Even minor disputes must be adjusted by litigation. 13. Black Hit: prohibited. 13. No provision. 14* Agreements between producers to prevent competitive bidding for writers forbidden. 14. No provision. 15. ILnforcement: producers bind themselves by contract with a representative writer body to continut .0 give whatever they promise. 15. Litigation. Screen Credits Provisions too lengthy to be analyzed in'detail here. Our demands arc substantially granted except as to the machinery for adjusting credit disputes. The following provisions of the "Basic Agreement" make credit provisions puerile and meaningless. I. Producer shall send notice of tentative de termination of screen crcdits to all "substantial contributors." The question of who is a "sub stantial contributor" determined exclusively by the producer. Such notice may be sent to the Academy instead of the writer, thus ending the producer's responsibility to deliver it. If no pro test is received within a "specified time" (not earlier than 6:00 p. m. on the day after notices are sent), the producer's tentative determination becomes final or he may change the allocation of credits in any way he sees fit. 2. Appeal may be taken from the producer's determination of credit to the Writers' Adjust ment Committee of the Academy. Finding of the committee is "final" but a'finding "that the credits have' been improperly allocated on the screen shall not obligate the producer to change the same." I j

Linked assets

University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses

Conceptually similar

PDF

A history of the Screen Writer's Guild (1920-1942): the writers' quest for a freely negotiated basic agreement

PDF

A historical-critical study of the films of Richard Brooks: With special attention to his problems of achieving and maintaining final decision-control

PDF

A history of RKO Radio Pictures, Incorporated 1928-1942

PDF

A history of the Screen Writers' Guild (1920--1942): The writers' quest for a freely negotiated basic agreement.

PDF

Cinema-verite in America

PDF

A historical study of the influence of the house committee on un-American activities on the American theatre, 1938-1958

PDF

A historical and analytical study of the advent and development of cinema and motion picture production in Iran (1900 -1965)

PDF

A historical study of cooperative Protestant religious film in America from 1914 to 1972

PDF

A description of the development, administration, production process, and production environment of the public television dramatic series: "Hollywood Television Theater"

PDF

A study of the "eastern" writer in Hollywood in the 1930's

PDF

A critical study of the screwball comedy film, 1934-1941

PDF

An analytical study of the dramatic criticism of Joseph Wood Krutch as published in "The Nation", 1924-1952

PDF

A critical study of the image of marriage in the contemporary American cinema

PDF

A national score: Popular music and Taiwanese cinema

PDF

A Critical Analysis Of The Structure Of The East German Film, 'Berlin Wall'

PDF

An enticement to knowledge: Documentary spectatorship and a theory of performatives

PDF

A working theory of film genre

PDF

Constructing collective memories of movements for African peoples' equality: Containing the legitimation crisis for white domination

PDF

City subjects: Shoplifters, bag ladies, and other figures of urban transgression in contemporary literature and film.

PDF

Cinema bulimia: Peter Greenaway's corpus of excess

Asset Metadata

Creator Wheaton, Christopher Dudley (author)

Core Title A history of the screen writers' guild (1920-1942): the writers' quest for a freely negotiated basic agreement

Degree Doctor of Philosophy

Degree Program Communications-Cinema

Publisher University of Southern California (original), University of Southern California. Libraries (digital)

Tag mass communications,OAI-PMH Harvest

Language English

Contributor Digitized by ProQuest (provenance)

Advisor Knight, Arthur (committee chair), [illegible] (committee member)

Permanent Link (DOI) https://doi.org/10.25549/usctheses-c17-445426

Unique identifier UC11351970

Identifier 7400948.pdf (filename),usctheses-c17-445426 (legacy record id)

Legacy Identifier 7400948-0.pdf

Dmrecord 445426

Document Type Dissertation

Rights WHEATON, CHRISTOPHER DUDLEY

Type texts

Source University of Southern California (contributing entity), University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses (collection)

Access Conditions The author retains rights to his/her dissertation, thesis or other graduate work according to U.S. copyright law. Electronic access is being provided by the USC Libraries in agreement with the au...

Repository Name University of Southern California Digital Library

Repository Location USC Digital Library, University of Southern California, University Park Campus, Los Angeles, California 90089, USA