Screen Guilds Magazine (May 1936)

Writers happen to be people who think. Like all human beings they are concerned with money, but not money alone, thank God. . . , This golden goose is a myth, a ghost, to haunt the timid. Let us lay the ghost and the goose with a laugh, a little common sense and courage writers. They knew what they wanted and took it. They knew what the writers had not yet learned, that the motion picture industry is a desperate competition. Directors, having had a longer experience, were aware of this and entrenched themselves upon a more equal footing. This vague yearning of the writer is hard to understand by anyone who is not a writer. I don’t mean a good writer, or a bad writer but just some poor devil whose imagination has been caught by the word and thereafter must devote his life to scribbling, however futilely. That mysterious urge, that pride in the craft of writing, that crafts¬ man instinct, is the devil in the cheese. It begins to conflict with even a man’s natural hunger for luxury and material power and the good things of the world. In the end those things are not enough. However fortunate a man has been in acquiring a competence in this highly competitive world, there comes a time— if he is a scribbler—when it is not enough. True, he might have worked harder and won less. But harder work might have meant more fun, and who can buy fun? Stevenson expressed the writer’s viewpoint when he said, "To travel hopefully is better than to ar¬ rive.” The tragic thing in the early Hollywood was that writers travelled unhopefully and arrived. And they lost both ways. N OW, having probably failed to ex¬ plain what a writer really is at heart, let us get back to our muttons. No writer can be exposed to Hollywood without having his imagination fired by the marvellous potentialities of expres¬ sion of the modern film. Just to dream of it makes your hair stand on end. Naturally he wants to have some signi¬ ficant part in using this medium. Be¬ fore he can do proud work he must be treated with respect and candour, he must be given a voice. Not a voice to shout down producers and directors and others in the collective task, but a voice to speak to them as an equal, as a sin¬ cere craftsman. Finding himself too frequently flouted by executives, he turns to his own fel¬ low-writers and they band together, so that they may speak with one voice and so be heard. But now the producers, who have long banded together in the same way, turn a deaf ear. The or¬ ganized writers lay down a code of fair working conditions, to enhance their self respect and accordingly their en¬ thusiasm and efficiency. Again the executives are deaf. As a subterfuge to cover an insecure position, they turn to the Academy and sign a similar code of working conditions, save that it can¬ not be enforced. The writers realize that they must be friends with all producers, that they are brothers in a common venture. And they only seek the few reforms that would make amity possible as between equals, for only men who are equal can have true friendship. Fear and a slavish at¬ titude must be abolished ... So the writers again turn to their fellow writ¬ ers, this time reaching far out beyond Hollywood to the Authors’ League and the Dramatists’ Guild, seeking a larger organization and a larger voice. Hr* HUS the potential closed shop, which has Mr. Wilkerson in such a state of trepidation. And having made our position clear, at least as the pres¬ ent writer conceives it, now we can go back and answer the Hollywood Re¬ porter ’s questionnaire : 1. "What have the writers to attain with a closed shop?” Fairness. Honesty. Genuine friend¬ ship with producers. A more cour¬ ageous stand against foolish censor¬ ship. More integrity as craftsmen. Abolish fear. A stronger industry and a better art. Pride and self respect. In fact they are too many to enumerate. Better just to ask, 'What have producers to fear?’ Nothing. 'What has the dis¬ honest producer or writer (assuming that the human race is fallible) to fear?’ Everything! 2. "What is the purpose of such a move ? ’ ’ Explained in the body of this article. 3. "Will it cause them to write better stories, resulting in the making of bet¬ ter pictures?” Due to the inferior position of the writer, better stories have not always resulted in better pictures. Respect and fair treatment are excellent incentives for enthusiasm, and enthusiasm is the wellspring of good writing. 4. "Will it tend to improve the pro¬ duction of pictures?” Yes, because the most direct way of improving production is to remove ex¬ isting evils that impede progress. 5. "Will it cause progress in the business?” Yes, if you mean growth and develop¬ ment and continuity of life based upon fulfilling a need. 6. "Will it bring more money to the boxoffice, affording better returns for the companies and bigger salaries to the writers ? ’ ’ Ask God! . . . But certainly not less money to the boxoffice. And any in¬ telligent craftsman in this industry can tell you that looking at the box- office alone is not conducive to longev¬ ity for the industry. Some of the big- est boxoffice successes have turned away potential customers for future pictures. What Hollywood should real¬ ly want is a sound business that will sustain and increase interest in the cinema theatre, and so maintain em¬ ployment in the studios over a long run. And sound business demands superior pictures, an occasional experi¬ mental picture, the prestige picture, the brave projection now and then of the burning idea or bright experience. As for salaries, the writer is motivated by the same human impulses as the pro¬ ducer and other members of the in¬ dustry. He will ask and get a fair re¬ turn proportionate to his contribution to a collective product, whether this be by wages as at present or by royalties in the far future. A S for the Dramatists’ Guild having destroyed the stage, let us blast that lie at once. It just isn’t so. Since the advent of the guild the stage has been more alive and kicking and interesting than it has ever been, and the drama¬ tists, believe me, are a lot happier. (Continued on Page 20) May, 1936 7#