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SHOWMAN
in my office bubbling over with grandiose ideas about the future of the movie racket. Some sixth sense had convinced him that the day of mere shorts was drawing to a close and full-length features, like "The Great Train Robbery," only far longer and far better, would be the coming thing. Little shooting-galleries were going to give place to huge movie-palaces, such as the legitimate theater had never dreamed of. There were millions and millions in the movies, and he and I were going to start a company to get us in on the ground floor. I was to get twenty-five percent of the stock and a guarantee of $25,000 cash per annum for the use of my name.
It didn't make sense to me then. Five years later enough of it would have already happened for me to see the point. But back before feature pictures really existed, when there was nothing to the whole industry but terrible products in little doses, cheap methods, nickel and dime admissions— when no actor of any standing would have anything to do with celluloid— Zukor was about the only living human being who could guess what was going to happen.
"Why, Adolph," I said kindly, "you're out of your head. These pictures are just a fad. They won't last much longer than the Mutuscope— or the skating-rink racket." He tried his best to persuade me I was wrong. But I still think the logic of the moment was on my side. So he went to Dan Frohman instead and got him with a good deal less generous proposition than he had
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