The New Movie Magazine (Jan-Jun 1931)

The Men Who Make the Movies The Story of Harry M. Warner BY LYNDE DENIG NOT long ago, Harry M. Warner was named throughout the country, throughout the world, in fact, as one of the fifty most important men in the United States. The list of leaders compiled by Ambassador James W. Gerard was published in practically every American and English newspaper of consequence. Mr. Warner is president of the worldwide organization known as Warner Brothers, producing pictures and showing them in thousands of theaters. More than anyone else, he is responsible for Vitaphone, which signifies talking pictures. Ambassador Gerard named Harry M. Warner in company with the most influential men of the period, indicating that Brother Harry is some pumpkin in or out of his old home town. Like the Marx brothers, the Warner brothers are a family team. Harry is captain. The Warner team has bucked and dodged a lot of interference since the boys peddled newspapers in Baltimore, but they still hold the ball. There has been just one real tragedy in their lives: the death of Sam Warner, leaving Harry, Jack and Albert to keep up the drive. They still miss Sam, however, a good fellow and a smart one. WARNER, SR., father of a dozen children, hailed from Poland and located in Baltimore. He opened a shoe-repairing shop and spent a large part of his time keeping his own offspring properly shod. The pennies brought home by the boys after selling their papers were banked in a sugar bowl. From that time on, the Warner brothers have shared alike in a family bank account. Harry's first real, grownup job was that of a traveling salesman for a wholesale meat dealer. Sam was developing his back muscles firing a locomotive on the Erie Railroad. One night, Sam dropped into a tent show in Sandusky, Ohio, where "The Great Train Robbery" was on view. He was impressed. There came a meeting of the four brothers in Pittsburgh. They decided to get the jump on the new era — the motion-picture era — following the passing day of the safety bicycle. They hired a hall in Newcastle, Pa., rented chairs from a local undertaker; Sister Rose played a piano; Jack, a thirteen-year-old lad with a HARRY M. WARNER Mr. Warner is president of the world-wide organization known as Warner Brothers. More than anyone else, he is responsible for Vitaphone, which signifies talking pictures. It was Mr. Warner who gave the screen a voice. New Movie is going to tell you — briefly and concisely — the life stories of the men who make your movies, so that you may better know these men who provide your entertainment and guide your taste in literature, fashions and all the things of life. husky soprano, sang illustrated songs; while Harry ran the show, assisted by Albert. Brother Sam took "The Great Train Robery" on a tour of Ohio and Pennsylvania. Harry handled both the cash and the credit for the Warner enterprises when there wasn't much of either, Now that there are millions of both, he still guards the family purse. '"THOSE were the trustA busting days — the days of Teddy and his Big Stick, of Tom Lawson, of schooners of lager, of hot stew on the free lunch counter in the corner saloon. Also, they were the days of the General Film Company's monopoly. The Warners jumped into the first line of independents and defied the trust. They made some pictures of a sort, established a primitive exchange for the distribution of their films and promptly went broke. They took the count, smiling, and came up for another round with Ambassador Gerard's "My Four Years in Germany" in their tin cans. The picture was a war-time favorite. The stalwart Warners carried a pocket full of cash to Hollywood, borrowed a few thousand more and set up a studio, allowing room for Rin-Tin-Tin and his dog-house. For a considerable period Rin-Tin-Tin was the main support of a large family. While such memorable productions as "The Marriage Circle," "Lady Windermere's Fan" and other accomplishments of the redoubtable Ernst Lubitsch gave the Warners an artistic standing, the famous police dog barked away the creditors. It never has been the policy of the Warners to hoard money. When the end of a year showed a balance, whether it was $1,000 or $100,000, the cash went right back into the game: More pictures, more stars (John Barrymore and Al Jolson, for example), more everything. The Warners have been pretty well sunk, now and again, but they always go forward by raising the ante. If a project is new and big in its possibilities, Harry Warner believes in giving it a ride, regardless of cost. But, oddly enough, he almost turned a deaf ear to the talkies. And it is for his promotion of the talkies that he will be remembered. The year 1925 was one of the not-so-good years. As in the old General Film days, competitors were playing a game of freeze-out. (Continued on. page 91)