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The Public Is Never Wrong
stone house on Fourteenth Street, where I had met him. It had been little more than a shaking of hands, because my plans were only germinating in my mind.
Over a dinner at Luchow's Restaurant on Fourteenth Street, famous then as today, we talked about the possibilities of feature pictures. Griffith believed in them. All serious directors saw in them a greater opportunity for story and character development. The established producers and the exhibitors were the stumbling blocks.
I was prepared to offer Griffith a very large salary, perhaps fifty thousand dollars a year, a fantastic sum for the time and industry. The prestige of his film name, coupled with great stage names and plays, would cause the industry to sit up and take notice. And the longer picture would give scope to his genius.
Griffith was extremely courteous, but he said that he was not ready to leave Biograph. He was in high demand, and it may be that he regarded me as just another promoter painting the clouds. At any rate he was not interested even to the point of talking salary.
After Daniel Frohman joined me, I asked him to try Griffith once more, this time making the fifty-thousanddollar offer. But still his response was negative. He told Frohman that even though he left Biograph he could arrange to make more than fifty thousand dollars. And in time he did. Later Griffith worked for me. But I have always regretted that we were unable to be together at the height of his powers.
Edwin S. Porter was more open to argument. Despite his old barnstorming life, he was a careful man, a Scots