Hollywood Studio Magazine (July 1970)

THE CHANGIN6 FACE OF HOLLYWOOD By Teet Carle A kin<Jly, wise and astute head of a major studio where I plied the publicist’s trade for a few decides had a favorite story. Because he believed in Hollywood and the immortality of its product and defended it even after bright and brash new brooms swept him into retirement and a quiet death, he often told the story. The tale concerned an indolent hill-billy man on county relief, along With 12 children. As regularly as nine or ten months, his family increased, thus enlarging the welfare cash he received. After the birth of the twelfth child, the welfare boss threatened, “This has to stop. You’ve been warned five years to stop propagating. The end is here. If another child is sired by you, you’ll be hanged.” The old codger accepted the \jltimatum. Yet, at the stroke of nine, came a new baby and the welfare folks, knowing a big scare could be effective, proceeded in a group to the home of the man and went through the motions. As the quaking chap stood with noose around neck and over a tree limb, he began wailing. “It’s not fair. You can’t do this.” And when asked why not, he yelped, “Because you’re hanging the wrong man.” This, our studio head contended, described the position of the film industry. Through crises after crises ever since flickers began enticing nickles, critics have been burying the motion picture industry. They said radio would destroy a speechless screen. And this writer recalls, after talkies were thriving and business dipped briefly, experts pointed to a new fad that was attracting millions each night - miniature golf. Laugh today at the thought if you will. In early 30’s tears were shed. Hollywood, throughout the scores of years marking cinematic triumphs, always has been able to adjust and take some progressive steps. Historians say that many things have “saved” the flicks. Color, sound, the wide screen! Some may not feel that the current permissiveness wherein popular personalities - even Academy Awards winners ■— portray sensuousness while in the buff is artistic advancement. But it is adjustment and all will, as in many times past, shake down to a comfortable level. Today voices are lifted in complaint. “It’s not the same business anymore. God return us to the good old days.” Of course it’s not the same business. The old days won’t come back and few would greet such a return joyfully. Take a look at some of the screen classics of several, or a single, generation ago. A few hold up. 99.44% wouldn’t merit thin dimes at a box office today. The studio head who told the “hanging the wrong man” story, made a remark to me one afternoon 1.1 years ago. A heart attack had temporarily slowed him down and that day he was resting on a divan after lunch when I, a publicity director who had found earth shakes underfoot conducive of unsteadiness, had come to say some formal good-byes. He said, “Things must change. It’s not the same business it was when we came into it.” He did not speak sadly. Just factually. The operation of studios in 1959 sure as hell wasn’t the same as in 1949, or was 1949 the same business as 1939 — and on and on. That, to us in 1959, was all right. As it should be. Nobody wants to be in a business which stays “the same.” There are reasons for change, including studios heads and production geniuses. My friend’s name was Y. Frank Freeman and today he would be considered old-fashioned. It figures. Not long ago, a brilliant agent surprised me by saying that if Irving Thalberg were alive today and in a studio “he’d be a bum as a movie-maker.” A lot of weeping and wailing has been going on by some stars, “ex” ones as well as current favorites, about the auctioning off of all those properties and wardrobe items at MGM. They are crying into a gigantic, bottomless rain barrel. Why shouldn’t those vast storehouses be emptied of dust-catchers which take up valuable space and run up huge expenses for their care? Ridding a major studio of deadwood, even colorful and historic deadwood, isn’t a 1970 phenomenon. Nearly 20 years ago, when I was at Paramount, that studio began to divest itself of many departments which had been maintained during lush periods. The photo lab, the print shop, the greenery and other “little worlds within a big world” were sold — mostly to employees. Most of the tons of wardrobes went to Western Costuming. What was going on there and went on later at other studios was a shedding of non-essentials to reduce overhead. The reason was simple: to attract Highly desirable independent deals with box office stars, producers, directors. Until stars and other movie-makers went into business for themselves to partner with studios, overhead was a joke word. I can remember how amusing it was to discover that a certain property likely never would be made simply because the charges against it in preparation periods had mounted so high not even a staff producer, on salary, would accept the assignment. After all, no producer wants a reputation of being too costly or exceeding budget. But when movie-makers who had Page 4