Screen Guilds Magazine (August 1934)

6 The Screen Guilds' Magazine Letter from a Self-Made Screen Writer to His Son Vf YS0N: - LY ' L Today you are eighteen, and in four years you will finish grammar school. You are blessed with many ad¬ vantages which your poor father has had to do without, and the greatest of these is an education. Equipped as you are by knowledge of how to read and write, your path will not be as hard as mine was; and you will have the bulge on most supervisors. I find that many of my trials and tribu¬ lations have been trying to teach them to understand English. There are a few simple rules which I must hand down to you, if you intend to follow in my footsteps. I am not sug¬ gesting that you become a writer be¬ cause there are many fields more lucra¬ tive, such as plumbing, gas fitting, and getting an appointment to a censor board. To be a plumber, or a gas fitter, you must know something—so that prac¬ tically eliminates those two vocations for you. Come to think about it, you'd better be a writer because you will be too intelligent to be a censor. Most of them never went to grammar school. There are a few things I want you to remember, if you become a writer. These will save you many heartaches. The first is to get a hinge in the neck. The second is to exercise your vocal chords. If you have time when you fin¬ ish grammar school, I would like to send you some place where you could take a course in hog calling. This would serve you in good stead in a story conference, as the man with the loudest and strong¬ est voice gets the longest assignment. The third is to learn all the smutty stories. I have a book all indexed that I am going to will to you. They will make any supervisor laugh. There is a certain technique about telling a smut¬ ty story. When you tell a story or a gag, be sure to start to laugh and continue to laugh for at least five minutes before you spring it. This will put the super¬ visor in a good humor; and if it is one he hasn't heard before, he will probably forget that he was going to fire you. Fourth, when you tell a good story be sure to have a topper. If the supervisor laughs, tell him you can clean it up so that it can be used in pictures. Nothing makes such a hit with a producer as a cleaned-up smutty story (ask the bish¬ ops, rabbis, and ministers for the truth of this statement). Fifth, never suggest anything new that has never been done before. If you suggest a gag or a situation, be sure that By JOHNNIE GREY you have seen it in some picture and know the audience's reaction because nothing makes a supervisor so sore as to have to pioneer with new material. It is not fair to the producer. Sixth, be sure and go to all the picture shows. This might sound like extrava¬ gance, but it serves a two-fold purpose. It brings money into the box office (and they sure need it) and supplies you with material so that you can prove that the material you are suggesting is good. In this way, you are fore-armed when a producer asks you if a thing is funny or not. You can tell him that they rolled in the aisles. He has no argument left. After you have digested these rules, my son, there is one other thing to re- “It’s Filbert Gumpus. He tried to reorganize Mastoid .'' GUARDIAN OF THE PORTALS By Gertrude Orr Child, what seek you? What gifts of Fate? Fame or fair Renown? You are passing young To ask for Understanding’s silver tongue Or the artist’s pallette Stained with pain Of the heart’s deep unsatisfied longings. Have you* Courage and Faith And unfaltering Belief? If not, go quickly before it’s too late. There is no place here In the Heroes’ Hall For those who snivel or rail Once you are caught in Ambition’s toil She mercilessly claims your all. You can take what you will. But pay with good grace. Or be satisfied with the Commonplace. member. You must know the language of the screen. Gag—Any bit of business that has been used before and that audiences have laughed at in other pictures. Hokum—Your principal stock in trade. But never use this word in story con¬ ference. Business—What you tell a producer “hokum" is. Hundred and Eight—A term used to signify a pratt-fall done by a comic or double who lands on the back of his neck. High Gruesome—A bigger and better fall than an hundred and eight. Lousy—What the supervisor says about the story. What the director says about the cast. What the writer says about the director. What the actor says about the supervisors, writers, directors, cutters, supporting cast, etc. What the audience thinks about most pictures. Mo—A facial adornment for the upper lip. See Hitler, Chaplin. Muff—A thicket of hair behind which most bad actors hide their defects. Plot—The part of the story generally left on the cutting room floor to make room for the star's closeups. Take—Director's word for any reaction “Take it big." Weenie—The crux of picture writing. The Weenie is the thing everyone in the picture is after—the mortgage on the old home—the patent papers— or the other half of the formula. Weenie makes the world go round. Yes—The most important word in the writer's vocabulary. My son, when you are armed with the above list of terms, you can not help but fool them. Success will be yours if you do as I say. Now study hard. Your loving father, Will Gumpus, Mastoid Studios, Hollywood, California. Mr. Will Gumpus, Mastoid Studios, Hollywood, California. I am quitting school today. Your son, Filbert. Filbert Gumpus, Boyle Heights, Los Angeles, California. Good. Come home and be a super¬ visor. Will.