American cinematographer (Jan-Dec 1946)

ACES of the CAMERA PEVERELL MARLEY, A.S.C. By HILDA BLACK WHEN Pev Marley was graduated from high school he found him¬ self face-to-face with a crisis in his life: should he enter Stanford as his parents had always planned, or should he get a job instead. It was no ordinary matter to decide, and wanting their son to enter Stanford was no idle whim on the part of his parents. Leland Stanford had been their friend, and from the day of Pev’s birth, it was naturally taken for granted that when the boy became of uni¬ versity age, he would enter Stanford. There had never been any question about it. Which would have been fine, except that when young Marley reached that age, he couldn’t make up his mind what he wanted to do about his future. Defi¬ nitely, he didn’t want to become a doctor or a lawyer, and the only reason he could find for going to college was to have fun — football, track, fraternity ac¬ tivities — things like that. Such a program didn’t seem to be sufficient excuse for putting in four years’ time, figured the sensible lad. And so he decided to get some kind of a job during summer vaca¬ tion and think the matter over. By a lucky break, the job he landed was in the motion picture business as as¬ sistant to A1 Wykoff, Cecil deMilie’s cam¬ eraman. All that summer Pev worked hard, as did all aspiring cameramen in those days. Today, for the same amount of work, four men — instead of one — would probably be hired. With practically no help. Pev’s chores included: packing, unpacking and transporting 22 cases of camera equipment; setting up three cameras; loading the film in the morning and canning it at night; holding the slate; keeping a record of the footage. On location he had to take the cameras apart and put them together again; and always there was the little book in which he kept a derailed report of how far what actor was from what camera in a certain scene and what type of lens had been used. Those were questions that were sure to come up, and they had to be an¬ swered correctly. When a man worked for deMille, he had to be on his toes every minute. The director would not tol¬ erate careless or disinterested employees. In addition to everything else, Marley kept a little notebook of his own, and he still has it, to this day. It is his per¬ sonal record of what he terms “deMille witicisms.” He thought many of the. di¬ rector’s remarks too good to be lost. That summer’s work convinced Pev Marley that he liked the motion picture business. And when schooPime rolled around again, he made his decision: in¬ stead of going to school and getting an academic education, he would get a prac¬ tical one. And where, he asked himself, could he get a better understanding of the mofion picture industry than with C. B. deMille, the king of them all. Pev says now that he has never reeretted his choice, even though, at the time, it did cause near-havoc in his family. Everybody worked hard in the picture business in those days, and many of the men who are now tops in the profession, started just as Pev did — carrying equip¬ ment, taking cameras apart, and put¬ ting them together again — and the dozen and one other odd jobs they are called upon to do. It was tough, but it was one certain way to the top. You learned the hard way. Pev got the benefit of the finest train¬ ing in the business, for the deMille epics were all made on the grand scale. Mar¬ ley worked on such gigantic productions as “The King of Kings,” (which later opened Grauman’s Chinese Theater), “The Ten Commandments,” “The Volga Boatman” (it opened the Carthay Circle), “Feet of Clay,” and “Dynamite” among others. Perhaps it was his youth, eagerness, ambition and his great respect for the (Continued on Page 31) 10 January, 1946 • American Cinematographer