It took nine tailors (1948)

Z IT TOOK NINE TAILORS ing his coffee and Father was well out of earshot, I told him about my college theatrical experience, confessed that I wanted to be an actor, and asked him if he could help me find a job on the stage. He was not very encouraging. Acting, in his opinion, was a poor way to make a steady living; the restaurant business was safer and more profitable. But if I really wanted to be an actor, he suggested that I go out to Vitagraph Studios and try to land a job as an extra in moving pictures. "I know nothing about moving pictures/' I told him. "All the better," he responded. "That qualifies you for an executive position." I realized that Robinson must be something of a cynic about the art of the cinema but refused to let him cool my desire to enter the acting profession. "Who do I see about getting a job?" I inquired. "The casting director is Arthur Cozzine. I'll mention your name to him." Today the average casting director interviews neophyte job hunters only when trapped into it. He hasn't time to see them all, so he tries to see as few as possible. The major studios all have scouts to search for new talent; but when a talent scout appears with a young prospect in tow, the casting director is apt to view the new "find" with a jaundiced eye. He has become cynical about the ability of these prospective Gables and Bergmans; they appear and disappear each year by the hundreds. Even when some young Thespian has just received accolades from the Broadway critics, he had better arrive at the studio accompanied by an important agent and armed with a letter of introduction from the president of the company or he may never get past the front gate. But I was lucky. I got into the business when casting directors interviewed anybody who claimed to be an actor. I was also lucky because my job at the restaurant didn't interfere with my becoming an actor on the side. The business at the Maison Menjou was