Screen Guilds Magazine (October 1935)

Who Serves Who — And Who Pays? I N devoting this issue of the Magazine chiefly to the subject of agents, we want to state most emphatically that the Guild has no ulterior motive in this— no deep-dyed plot to 'police’ or 'con¬ trol ’ or in any way to ' clamp down’ on agents, as the Academy at one time at¬ tempted to do. On the contrary, the Guild is definite¬ ly for agents. In our opinion the agent is a necessary and important element in the picture industry. In a recent census taken by the Guild, it was dis¬ covered that about ninety percent of Hollywood writers employ agents. The same percentage we believe obtains for actors. This is not surprising. Artists are seldom good business-men; and even those that are find it advan¬ tageous as a rule to be ' managed ’ by someone else. It is difficult and em- barassing to blow one’s own horn. It is difficult to know precisely one’s own marketability. It is well-nigh impos¬ sible for a writer or actor to know all openings where he might fit. All this constitutes a business in itself, a need¬ ful and eminently proper business which, as our census attested, writers and actors recognize and are willing to pay for. There seems to exist, however, more misunderstandings and abuses in this branch of the picture business than any other; and it was with the idea of bring¬ ing into the open the fundamental troubles with the agenting profession that the Guild offered the pages of its magazine to artist, producer and agent alike for candid and frank expressions and opinions. By dint of much hard work we man¬ aged to get some of these expressions. They are published herewith (unedited and unabridged). But as to their frank¬ ness, and judging from, the difficulty of obtaining even this meagre measure of Candor’ on a subject that concerns all of us most vitally, we can only con¬ clude that in the eyes of both agents and producers the agenting business is ap¬ parently an 'outlaw’ proposition that doesn’t bear being examined into or defined or even honestly discussed. W E asked three 'big-shot’ agents to write us an article entitled WHY EVERY ARTIST NEEDS AN AGENT. We tried to get an article entitled THE DIFFICULTIES OF BE¬ ING AN AGENT. Agents most cer¬ tainly argue that every artist does need an agent; and agents are forever telling their clients of the difficulties that beset their business. These things, honestly set down, would be interesting and valuable for artists to know. But we couldn’t get such articles. Agents felt that such 'frankness’ might be inimical to their business. Producers, they said, might take offense. AND THE SAME ATTITUDE WAS EX¬ PRESSED BY SEVERAL BIG-SHOT PRODUCERS. They didn’t want to offend the agent. That at least is interesting and re¬ vealing. That perhaps an fond is the real trouble with the agenting business: not fundamentally the relationship between artist and agent, but the relationship of agent and producer. This is no new idea so far as the Guilds are concerned. From their very inception the two Guilds have expended considerable time and thought on this subtle and knotty problem. Surely, if it were solved, there would be a far greater measure of peace and under¬ standing between employer and em¬ ploye than exists today. Why then isn’t it being solved? What is standing in the way? WHO is standing in the way? Perhaps the following resume of the Guilds’ activities in regard to agents might throw a little light on the subject. T WO years ago the Guilds entertained the entirely reasonable idea of ‘get* ting together’ with the agents. The Guilds argued that an agent’s interest was certainly allied with the artist’s interest. He derived his income from the income of the artist. His business, his success, depended entirely upon the artist’s success. He was, in brief, the friend, the aid, the adviser and indeed the fiduciary of the artist. A Guild committee, after making a careful study of the subject, got together with a group of serious-minded agents with the idea of formulating a code of fair practice. This code was finally evolved to the satisfaction of both com¬ mittees. Among the many benefits it afforded the artist were these: (a) It set up a commission of Con¬ ciliation and Arbitration that would settle all disputes between artists and agents. (b) It defined and ruled against all forms of malpractice in agenting opera¬ tions. (c) It gave the artist swift and im¬ mediate relief from contracts proven to be unfair and disadvantageous. (d) It stipulated that the agent should specify the NAME OF THE INDIVIDUAL who was to handle the artist’s business so that the artist could not be signed by the head of a big agency corporation and then be turned over to an incompetent subordinate. (e) It defined and ruled against all secret agreements and manipulations be¬ tween agents and producers. There were twenty-odd articles of ac¬ cord in this proposed Code of Fair Practice. But the deal didn’t go through. It was based upon the understanding that the agents would form themselves into an organization such as the Artists ’ Man¬ agers Association with PENALTIES for infraction of the rules and EN¬ FORCEMENT MACHINERY (because what use is a contract without penalties and forfeits for breaking it?). But this set-up apparently was too central¬ ized and powerful for certain agents. The 'racketeers’ evidently so outnum¬ bered the honest agents that the whole project had finally to be abandoned. O NE major issue however came to light out of those negotiations—an issue that was well worth all the time and thought and heart-break expended upon it by both writer- and agent-com¬ mittees. And that was this: It proved (the document attests to it) that ALL the grievances of talent against agent, and of agent against talent, could be ironed out, and standards of the agency business raised to those of a dignified and respected profession. The basic trouble does not lie in the differences between artists and agents. The fly in the ointment is, and always has been, the Producer, who has cyni¬ cally scorned all measures of fair play and has endeavored ALWAYS to con¬ trol and corrupt the agent. The old vaudeville booking office was the classic example of this. It sought and succeeded in making the agent the absolute tool of the producer. The re¬ sult was graft, corruption and the heinous betrayal of talent. Shortly following the fifty-percent cut (March, 1933) the producers again attempted to control the agenting busi¬ ness by creating a central casting bur¬ eau. This was an insidious device de- (Continued on Page 20) 7# October, 1935