‘Vait a minute—vait a minute.’ Issey Vandelstein’s teeth flashed as he turned on the dour Scot. ‘Ain’t you forgettin’ something, Mister?—you may have all der religion in der world—but you don’t ’ave all der shares in Alpha Talkies. No, Sir—vat about me?’
‘Sure, Mr. Vandelstein, your holding in Alpha is pretty considerable, I know, indeed ye are the biggest indeevidual stockholder, but at ye’re own choice ye refused a seat on the board. I speak for meself and my co-directors, and oor holding is certainly equal to ye’re own. This scheme of Hinckman’s seems to us a fine thing for the Corporation from the strictly business point of view—and after what ye’ve just heard, it should be a great and splendid force for the moral uplift of the wurld—neverless as oor largest stockholder, and the big noise in Mozarts, I’d be doubly interested to hear ye’re point of view.’
Issey Vandelstein shrugged his narrow shoulders. ‘Ai don’t vant no combines.’
‘What are your objections to the scheme, Issey?’ Hinckman asked.
‘Vell—Mozarts is Mozarts, ain’t it?’
The board considered this cryptic utterance in silence for a moment, then Hinckman said, ‘That’s true, Issey, and Mozarts is certainly a slick concern, but it ain’t got nothin’ on Trans-Continental Electric for all that. If we see money in this—why not you?’
‘Ai don’t vant no combines.’
‘Maybe, but let’s hear what’s biting you. I’ll say I’ve never known you to turn down big money before.’
‘Ai jus’ don’t vant no combines,’ repeated the little Jew doggedly, and Hinckman was compelled to leave it at that.
Ronnie Sheringham looked round the meeting, he felt that it was time to put in a word. He had attended many similar gatherings in his chequered business career, but never any in which such vast interests hung in the balance. He sat there—brown-faced—blue-eyed and smiling. His hands were buried in his trousers pockets, and he leant a little forward, his coat thrown open, showing a wide expanse of silk shirting, and an old Etonian tie. The fact that he was by many years the youngest man in the room, and the weight of millions that the others represented, awed him not at all. He spoke firmly in his lazy, cultured voice.
‘Mr. Hinckman has told you the reason for my presence here, and the interests which I represent are in complete agreement with his plan. It should be a marvellous thing for us all. I think you’ll agree, too, that the British end of it is important. Individually, they may not be as big as you, but the question of the quota arises.
‘In the event of a Combine being formed here, and the British interests left outside—you’d either have to show their films in America—which might prove popular because they’d make a special line of the cutey films you propose to bar—or and the films of the Combine would be barred out of Britain, and the home market left free for the present producer. If we come in the Combine will work its English studios, the question of the quota will not arise, and we shall be strong enough to wipe our present competitors off the map. As far as that goes it won’t matter how much of the English-made stuff you show over here, either, because the profits will go to the Combine just the same. I think from every point of view this scheme will benefit us all.’
Hinckman nodded approval. ‘You certainly are a bright young man, Mr. Sheringham—that’s just exactly how it’ll work. Your people will get a share holding in the Combine, and in a few years’ time the Combine’ll have the British market in its pocket. Now let’s hear what Barton Druce has to say.’
Barton Druce, the great man of Pacific Players, was an elderly grey-haired American. His shrewd eyes belied the easygoing impression created by his kindly face, he spoke with decision in a clear, level voice.
‘I’ve been mighty interested to hear what all you other folks have had to say, and I’m thunderin’ glad to learn there’s some sound sense left in this community. If Rudy Stillman and Walt Cinch care to go on Hinckman’s pay-roll I guess I’m not stoppin’ them, but I’ve been too long in the motion picture business to let any guy or any collection of guys tell me where I get off! I say nothin’ against friend Amos’ high moral views—some of us has religion, and some of us keeps Pekingese!—but if he figures to see Hinckman featuring in a crusade to wet-nurse movie stars … well, I guess he’s backed the wrong horse. As for Handsome—it’s a pleasure to see that he’s at least got enough brains in his good-looking skull to get the fact that his public will have to wait a long, long time before they see his pretty face if a combine buys him up! The British interests don’t cut much ice with me. I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Sheringham before, so what those interests are I don’t precisely know, but whatever they may be they can’t materially influence the position here in Hollywood. The rest of us—that’s Hugo, Issey, and Uncle Andy—are with me. Issey’s plain business—Hugo’s a careful man—and Uncle Andy wouldn’t be the boss of World Wide if he was a fool. They say, and I say, that a combine isn’t practical; every man jack of us runs his outfit on different lines—we’d sure fight like hell! Besides, different markets want different pictures; our present individual organisations supply those needs. The elimination of personality in the dead level of a combine output would set the development of the moving picture business back twenty years…’ He paused, and then went on with sudden intensity: ‘And now I come to the most important point of all. This whole scheme is nothing but a damned ramp—yes, I mean that! Hinckman, who sits at the end of the table there, is willing to risk the future of the entire industry—to bring dissension amongst us—and suffering to thousands—in this mad attempt to establish a dictatorship! Under the iron heel of a combine thousands of good workers who have grown up with the small concerns would be scrapped and lose their means of livelihood. The industry would suffer irretrievably through lack of healthy competition. Stars—artists—producers—would be faced with ruin, but for the few who were prepared to bow their necks under this tyrannous yoke … and this for what? To gratify the avarice and vanity of one unscrupulous man.’
Hinckman’s face had gone a deeper shade of red. He had expected opposition from Barton Druce, but never dreamed that he would have to face this devastating personal attack. His hands clenched, his dark eyes blazing between narrow lids, he sat immovable, as though carved from stone, while the flood of oratory poured over his head.
With a sudden movement Barton Druce thrust back his chair and left the table. At the door he turned and spoke again, his voice rising in harsh denunciation.
‘I speak for Pacific Players—for my co-directors—my shareholders, and the highest tradition in American business which seeks to protect the people it employs; not only do I refuse to participate in any combine which would bring such misery and ruin in its train, but—should it ever show signs of coming into being—I will fight it with every means at my command!’
4
The Spider’s Web
The meeting was over, the majority of the potentates had walked quietly down the back stairs of the hotel, hurried to their cars, and then—with every secrecy—been spirited away.
Hinckman, Walt Cinch, Hugo Schultzer, and Ronnie remained. Ronnie and Cinch were talking over the result of the meeting together in a corner—Hinckman had moved round to a seat next to the German’s chair.
‘Now, Hugo,’ he said, twirling his cigar, ‘that Bamborough kid—I asked you not to quit with the rest of the bunch so we could have a word about her.’
‘I haf told you, Hinckman, I require the young lady for my own broduction.’
‘Maybe—maybe—but it’s this way, Hugo; I figure to make this picture “The Forbidden Territory”. We shan’t call it that, of course, but that’s the name of the book—incidentally I took the trouble to read the book myself, I was that struck with the synopsis. It’s about Russia and those Bolsheviks. A young American gets put behind the bars in Moscow or Vladivostock or some place, and two of his pals go out from London to rescue him. It’s a great story—sledge scenes in the snow—aeroplanes—a gun-fi
ght with the Reds in a ruined chateau, and a dash to the frontier in a high-powered car—marvellous material to work on. It’s by a feller named Wheatley—who he is, God knows—but that don’t matter. There’s plenty of love interest too—a little Princess who got left behind when the Whites cleared out, and a Bolshie actress who’s full of pep. It’s got the makings of a master film—great spectacle, human interest—and educative value as well. Now I’ve got a cutie for the little Princess, but the actress woman must be the real goods—and the moment I set eyes on Miss Bamborough I knew she’d fit right in. I saw what she could do in Titchcock’s last, and I’ve been kicking myself ever since that I didn’t sign her up before you got wise—now be a sport an’ take a profit on her contract!’
Schultzer shook his head. ‘No, Mr. Hinckman—I haf said bevore, I haf need of Miss Bamborough for my own broduction.’
Hinckman hit the table a resounding blow with his clenched fist. ‘You sure make me mad,’ he cried angrily. ‘Where’ll I find another girl who just fits my part? I’ve been through every star in Hollywood with a toothcomb—there’s isn’t one that’s got just what I want—an’ what the hell’ll your production be anyhow? A one-horse show compared to this great spectacle of “The Forbidden Territory” I’m going to make. Tell you what I’ll do—give me the kid an’ I’ll give you a share in the profits on my picture. Now I can’t be fairer than that?’
The German was stubborn. ‘Mister Hinckman—your bicture may be a big bicture, but I haf my gondract with Miss Bamborough—and therefore she star in the Ubiquitous broduction.’
‘Okay,’ said Hinckman wearily, ‘but you’ll sure get some new ideas before you’re much older.’ He turned to Ronnie. ‘Guess we’ll get along.’
The four men went downstairs together. At the door of the hotel they parted—Schultzer and Cinch on their respective businesses, Ronnie and Hinckman in the latter’s car to the Garden Palace Hotel, where Lord Gavin and Ronnie were staying.
When they arrived they went straight up to Lord Gavin’s sitting-room. He was seated with his tiny childlike body hunched up in a big arm-chair, his small feet dangling. The blinds were drawn, and the black clothes which he invariably wore made him almost imperceptible in the semi-darkness. He turned his big head, and glanced sharply at them as they came in.
‘Well, what fortune did you have at your meeting?’ he asked in his melodious voice, directly the door closed behind them.
‘Oh, not too bad!’ Ronnie was already mixing drinks for Hinckman and himself.
‘And not so mighty good, either.’ Hinckman mopped his large face with a red and white spotted silk handkerchief. ‘We’ve got Cinch and Rudy Stillman for sure, an’ that’s something. We more or less counted on Cinch from the beginning, but Rudy’s a useful man, an’ somehow I didn’t figure he’d play.’
‘With yourself that makes three for certain,’ Lord Gavin said quietly. ‘Not bad for a beginning—what of the others?’
Ronnie laughed. ‘You should have seen Piplin—he just walked out on us!’
‘Yep—hi-hatted the whole party,’ Hinckman grinned. ‘But I told you he would from the word go. Star Artists might own this town from the way they treat folks—still I guess they’ve a right to please themselves. Uncle Andy wouldn’t come in, an’ that’s a pity. World Wide’s a pretty sizeable concern.’
‘The G.O.M. talked an awful lot of drivel,’ Ronnie supplemented, ‘about meeting his God face to face and business not being cricket—who on earth ever said it was, anyhow? I was surprised about Issey Vandelstein though. Ours is just the sort of scheme I should have thought would have appealed to him. What was his grouse, Hinckman? Have you any idea?’
‘Lord in heaven knows! I don’t. Issey’s as cute as they make ’em, I guess he thinks he’ll be able to work some kind of graft all on his lonesome. He’ll be too clever by half if he’s not careful an’ burn his yellow fingers—but for the time being he’s turned us down flat.’
‘Honeydew?’ Lord Gavin enquired, ‘what had he to say?’
‘He’s so fond of his own dial, poor mutt, he don’t know which way to turn it so’s you can focus his profile best—he gave us a lot of yap about his precious public, an’ how a combine would be cutting out his films. They would, too—if Jos Hinckman had any say.’
‘Amos McTavish was the funniest.’ Ronnie grinned reminiscently. ‘He wants to turn Hollywood into a seminary for young ladies—Hinckman’s going to join the Salvation Army and play the drum!’
‘Don’t you be so funny, young feller—Amos McTavish is no fool! What if he is bats about religion—it’s no bad proposition to get your workpeople on the Halleluja stuff—it keeps ’em off the liquor an’ you get better work out of ’em. I’m going to have a little private talk with “smell yer breath Amos” an’ I figure he’ll come in.’
‘What about Issey Vandelstein holding a big block of stock in his company? How’s that going to affect us?’
‘All depends on Issey—he may have the power to crab the deal or he mayn’t. We’ll certainly get a copy of the Alpha Corporation’s articles of association. That’ll give us the low-down on the share majority necessary to carry through a sale. Amos’ll give us the amount of Issey’s holding—then we’ll be wise.’
‘If it is necessary we could consider the advisability of buying Vandelstein out,’ suggested Lord Gavin.
Ronnie blew a couple of smoke rings and put his feet up on the opposite chair. ‘That would be one way—the old Bosch was pretty strong against us, though.’
‘Hugo Schultzer,’ Hinckman frowned. ‘Yep, he’s a stubborn fool, but I guess he doesn’t know what’s coming to him. I’ve got a private score against him—that Bamborough kid you put me on to is just the dix for my new super-film—but he won’t let up on her contract—wants to hold her for some snide production of his own.’
‘Was Barton Druce very antagonistic?’ Lord Gavin asked. ‘I know you feared he would be.’
‘An’ how!’ Hinckman was emphatic. ‘Good as called me a crook to my face, an’ said he’d sure fight the Combine all he knew. He’ll need some watching if we mean to put this thing through.’
‘He was pretty scathing about the others, too, wasn’t he?’ Ronnie grinned. ‘In so many words he told Handsome Harry and “Smell yer breath Amos” that they were a couple of idiots. He wasn’t any too polite about me either. He seemed to think the British interests were all eyewash!’
As he spoke, Ronnie pulled up the shade, and the sunlight streaming through the high window caught Lord Gavin’s silver hair, making a halo round it as he nodded his head. For a moment Ronnie was reminded of the Black Angel—but Lord Gavin’s voice was mild.
‘Let us sum up,’ he said. ‘Cinch and Stillman are definitely with us—Barton Druce, Schultzer, and Andy Wilson definitely against—Vandelstein also, but he presents a separate problem since it seems that he is only antagonistic for some private purpose of his own. We may reasonably suppose that he hopes to make more money by standing out for the time being. By the by—I forgot Piplin, but we have already agreed that the films made by Star Artists are of such an exceptional nature, and so limited in number, that they cannot possibly affect a world combine. We can ignore Piplin and his friends. Amos McTavish seems favourable if we can deal with the interest which Vandelstein holds in his concern. Honeydew is chiefly anxious to ensure his atrocious films should continue to be forced upon an unfortunate public.’
‘That’s so.’ Hinckman put aside the well-chewed butt of his cigar, and took another from Lord Gavin’s box.
‘It seems then, that Alpha and Honeydew must be our first consideration—some form of treaty should be possible with the latter.’
‘Yep—I guess we’ll have to take in Handsome himself someway—but if we get Reno, we get Von Sternheim. He’s expensive, but in his own line he’s the greatest director in the motion picture business.’
‘I know—Von Sternheim is an artist. I have the greatest admiration for his productions. It is he who
keeps Reno Films alive. If we can get him it will be worth while saddling ourselves with the dead weight of Honeydew—then, if it is essential, I will purchase Vandelstein’s holding in Alpha—that would give us five.’
‘Sure—but five ain’t seven. We’ll never get a stranglehold on little folks or the exhibitors with Pacific, World Wide, Mozarts, Ubiquitous, and Star Artists all out against us.’
‘I agree.’ Lord Gavin smiled. ‘Who are, then, the weakest of the remaining five?’
‘Ubiquitous, by a long sight.’
‘And after that?’
‘World Wide an’ Mozarts run about level.’
‘If we can secure Honeydew and Alpha, Vandelstein may see the wisdom of joining us before it is too late. In any case he will be frightened, and if we can bring Schultzer down, that should complete his rout.’
‘You’ll leave Issey an’ World Wide out of the picture for the moment then?’
‘I think that would be wise. Ronnie, my dear boy, I am expecting a cable from Moscow, would you be so kind as to go down to the hotel office, and see if it has arrived?’
‘Rather!’ Ronnie got slowly to his feet. ‘But I’ll phone down—that will be quicker.’
‘No, the hotel servants are so careless.’ The hard note that Ronnie had already learnt to know, underlay Lord Gavin’s quiet voice. ‘I should be obliged if you would go down yourself, and if by chance it has not arrived, you might walk as far as the post office to enquire.… Thank you so much.’
Ronnie took the hint, and left the two older men together.
‘I suppose,’ Lord Gavin went on slowly, when they were alone, ‘there is no possibility of the others forming a combine against us?’
Hinckman looked doubtful. ‘I don’t trust the Jew,’ he said, after a moment’s thought, ‘but I don’t figure he’d line up with the others any quicker than he would with us. Barton Druce is the one man I’m scared of—it’s just on the cards that they might rally round him.’
Such Power is Dangerous Page 5
