BRINGING
UP OSCAR
The Story of the Men and Women
Who Founded the Academy
DEBRA ANN PAWLAK
PEGASUS BOOKS
NEW YORK
For Gogie,
who first took me to a darkened theater
and introduced me to a magical world
where anything could happen
I miss you every single day!
CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
Preface
– –
PART ONE You Oughta Be in Pictures!
Chapter One The Flickers
Chapter Two Welcome to Hollywood!
Chapter Three Team Biograph
Chapter Four The Scribes
Chapter Five The Silent Types
Chapter Six The Idols
Chapter Seven Calling the Shots
Chapter Eight How Did They Do That?
Chapter Nine Head of the House
Chapter Ten The Guardians
– –
PART TWO You Ain’t Heard Nothin’ Yet!
Chapter Eleven On Top of the Mountain
Chapter Twelve Lions and Tigers and Brothers, Oh My!
Chapter Thirteen The Lunatics
Chapter Fourteen In The Zoo
Chapter Fifteen The Rest of ’Em
Chapter Sixteen The Gang’s All Here
Chapter Seventeen Let’s Go On With the Show!
– –
PART THREE Baby, Take a Bow!
Chapter Eighteen Scholars, Tough Guys and Bishops
Chapter Nineteen Three Men and a Lady
Chapter Twenty Mad Hatters, Macho Men and Mexican Divorces
Chapter Twenty-One Businessmen, Artists and Mediators
Chapter Twenty-Two Mogul to Mogul
Chapter Twenty-Three Ancient Slaves, Bad Facelifts and Broken Towel Bars
Chapter Twenty-Four Pretzels, Lawyers and Potentates
Chapter Twenty-Five Last Founders Standing
– –
That’s a Wrap!
Sources
“The Academy is the League of Nations of the Motion Picture Industry. It is our open forum where all branches can meet and discuss constructive solutions to problems with which each is confronted. In the past, we have never been able to get together on a common ground and in making this possible the Academy has conferred a great service. The producer, star, featured player, cinematographer—in fact, every individual can come into the Academy with any problem or proposal and feel that all barriers are leveled, that in this open court his voice carries the same weight as that of any other person, regardless of position and standing. There is no greater force for coordination, no greater avenue for constructive and intelligent cooperation for advancement than that offered by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.”
(Mary Pickford, April 2, 1928)
PREFACE
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Earthquakes rattle the world killing over 200,000.
•
British influenza epidemic claims 1,000 lives each week.
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One of the worst natural disasters in U.S. history affects 700,000 people as the mighty Mississippi floods.
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Dozens of children die when their school is bombed in the small farming community of Bath, Michigan.
•
Yugoslavia severs its ties with Albania.
•
An Italian steamer sinks off the Brazilian coast and more than 300 are lost.
•
Japan faces a banking crisis.
News taken from today’s headlines? Hardly. The year was 1927 and these events were sandwiched between several recessions, Prohibition, the Great Depression and two World Wars. The Roaring Twenties, much like the Twenty-First Century, were riddled with chaos. Amidst the turmoil, however, there were some remarkable achievements. The first transatlantic phone call was placed from New York to London. Inventor Philo Farnsworth transmitted the first television picture. Aviation hero Charles Lindbergh flew the first solo non-stop transatlantic flight from New York to Paris in his monoplane, The Spirit of St. Louis. Hollywood released its first talking picture, The Jazz Singer (1927) and the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences was formed.
The founders of the motion picture industry were dynamic individuals each with a vision for entertainment’s future, who knew they were on to something revolutionary. They believed that a simple white sheet, which hung from the ceiling as a screen, could evolve into the premier art form of the Twentieth Century and then some.
Movies, however, didn’t just magically appear on the silver screen nor was Hollywood shaped by the wave of a wand. It took determined ‘collaboration’—a word the motion picture industry still bats around today—by talented individuals who weren’t afraid to dream big. Early filmmakers faced obstacles similar to the financial and social challenges that impact our Twenty-First Century entrepreneurs. So what made these Twentieth Century pioneers stand apart and succeed? Dedication, tenacity, passion and their refusal to give up—qualities that forward thinkers everywhere must embrace today.
With the popularity of silent movies on the downswing and an astonishing new technology offering sound, 1920s Hollywood needed to keep the motion picture momentum going. A relatively new industry recently racked by mysterious murders and drug-related scandals, the key players had no rules to go by and made them up as they went along.
What the business really needed was one united front where competitive factions could come together to resolve disputes, discuss industry-wide challenges and promote the film community’s positive side. MGM’s headman, Louis B. Mayer, had an idea. Over dinner at his house, one Sunday evening in early January 1927, Mayer discussed his plan with guests actor Conrad Nagel, director Fred Niblo and the man in charge of censorship, Fred Beetson.
The three men agreed with Mayer’s concept of one organized group overseeing the film industry. Days later, they presented their plan to 32 filmmaking giants at the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles. Everyone present approved. Together, this team of 36 unique and distinctive Hollywood professionals founded the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. Their golden child, however, was not yet a gleam in anyone’s eyes.
He hasn’t changed much since making his public debut back in 1929. His height remains a steady 13½ inches. Like most of us, however, he has gained a pound or two over the years. He even picked up a nickname. Glamorous women have slept with him; powerful men have fondled him. Now, as the little man moves closer to membership in the centenarian club, he shows no signs of aging. Recognized around the world, he is the ultimate symbol of success, Hollywood-style. But what is his story? Where did he come from? Who was responsible for this legendary icon?
The founders included the following actors, producers, writers, directors, technicians and lawyers who saw an opportunity and took it:
Joseph Arthur Ball
Richard Barthelmess
Fred W. Beetson
Charles H. Christie
George W. Cohen
Cecil B. DeMille
Douglas Fairbanks
Joseph W. Farnham
Cedric Gibbons
Benjamin F. Glazer
Sid Grauman
Milton E. Hoffman
Jack Holt
Henry King
Jesse L. Lasky
M.C. Levee
Frank Lloyd
Harold Lloyd
Edwin J. Loeb
Jeanie Macpherson
Louis B. Ma
yer
Bess Meredyth
Conrad Nagel
Fred Niblo
Mary Pickford
Roy J. Pomeroy
Harry Rapf
Joseph M. Schenck
Milton Sills
John M. Stahl
Irving G. Thalberg
Raoul Walsh
Harry M. Warner
Jack L. Warner
Carey Wilson
Frank E. Woods
The group didn’t waste time. Within two months, they elected officers. Douglas Fairbanks was the first president, along with Vice President Fred Niblo, Treasurer M.C. Levee and Secretary Frank E. Woods. The following May, the State of California recognized the group as a non-profit corporation. Later that month, the Academy hosted its first official banquet at the Biltmore Hotel in downtown Los Angeles. Of the 300 guests invited, 231 paid a $100 fee and joined the newly formed organization with its five main branches: Producers, Actors, Directors, Writers and Technicians.
One of the Academy’s responsibilities was to publicly recognize outstanding achievements in film—kind of like tooting your own horn—and the Academy Awards were born. MGM art director Cedric Gibbons sketched a sleek statuette depicting a knight perched upon a reel of film and clutching a sword. Sculptor George Stanley created the molds. The Award of Merit, as it was known back then, was 13½ inches tall and weighed almost seven pounds.
With little glitz or glamour and absolutely no suspense (winners had been announced three months earlier), the first award ceremony quietly took place on May 16, 1929 in the Blossom Room of Hollywood’s Roosevelt Hotel—minus the red carpet. Tickets were ten dollars each. The room was simply decorated with Chinese lanterns. Candles topped each table along with candy replicas of the award itself. If you didn’t win one—you could at least eat one.
Before dinner, there was an hour of dancing. Afterward, Academy President Douglas Fairbanks presented the following twelve awards including two each for Best Picture and Best Director:
Best Picture (Production):Wings
Best Picture (Artistic Quality of Production):Sunrise
Best Actor:Emil Jennings (The Way of All Flesh, The Last Command)
Best Actress: Janet Gaynor (Seventh Heaven, Street Angel, Sunrise)
Best Director (Drama):Frank Borzage (Seventh Heaven)
Best Director (Comedy): Lewis Milestone (Two Arabian Nights)
Best Writing (Original story):Ben Hecht (Underworld)
Best Writing (Adaptation):Benjamin F. Glazer (Seventh Heaven)
Best Writing (Title Cards): Joseph W. Farnham (Fair Co-Ed, Laugh Clown Laugh, Telling the World)
Best Cinematography: Charles Rosher/Karl Struss (Sunrise)
Best Engineering Effects: Roy J. Pomeroy (Wings)
Art Direction:William Cameron Menzies (The Dove, The Tempest)
This was the first and only year the Academy simultaneously recognized two best pictures and the only time winners were acknowledged for more than one movie. It also marked the one occasion that a silent film reached best picture status. Two special awards were also given that night: one to Charlie Chaplin for writing, acting, directing and producing The Circus (1928) and one to Warner Bros. for producing The Jazz Singer (1927). By honoring this talking picture, the Academy officially acknowledged the beginning of a new era in film.
Eventually, the Academy’s Award of Merit got its famous nickname. No one knows for sure where it came from, but credit is often given to Margaret Herrick, an Academy librarian and executive director. According to Hollywood lore, she thought the statuette looked like her Uncle Oscar and the name stuck.
So just how did these 36 movers and shakers from around the world, with varying educational levels and a wide range of unrelated experiences, end up in the same room together in early 1927?
A healthy mix of strong conviction, a little sweat, and a whole lot of chutzpah.
Part One
YOU OUGHTA BE
IN PICTURES!
Chapter One
THE FLICKERS
Once upon a time, before any director ever yelled “CUT!,” there was a sleepy little place just outside of Los Angeles with a few ranches and farms scattered here and there. It wasn’t yet a town and it didn’t have a name, but locals could claim miles of dirt roads and plenty of dust. That all began to change in 1886 when realtor Harvey Henderson Wilcox, along with his wife, Daeida, purchased a 120-acre property on the outskirts of the City of Angels at a cost of $150 per acre.
Soon after, Daeida, on a train trip back east, met a woman who talked about her residence that she had christened “Hollywood.” Daeida liked the sound of it so much that she adopted the name for her newly acquired west coast property.
Crops and cattle, however, weren’t quite what the Wilcoxes had in mind. They registered a map of their subdivided land with the county recorder on February 1, 1887—the first official document to carry the name Hollywood. They sold sizeable lots to wealthy folks who wanted to spend their winters in California. It wasn’t long before large, fashionable Victorian and Queen Anne style homes lined the main street known as Prospect Avenue.
The town became official in 1897 when Hollywood’s first post office opened inside the Sackett Hotel. The wooden building was located at Prospect Avenue and Cahuenga. It took another six years before the village was incorporated into a city. The eight-member team who comprised the Hollywood Board of Trustees made up all the rules. Back then, liquor was illegal unless it had something to do with a doctor’s prescription. Bicycles were banned from the sidewalks. Cowboys could drive cattle, horses or mules through the city streets, but only in small herds of 200 or less. Hogs and sheep were different—competent men could herd more than 2,000 at a time, as long as the animals were supervised. Fireworks were also taboo.
But it wasn’t the illicit hooch or the unruly livestock or the forbidden pyrotechnics that caused the city’s biggest headache. It was water—there just wasn’t enough of it. By 1910, the situation was so serious residents voted for annexation to the City of Angels, which at that time had enough water for everyone. Before the annexation was official, however, Hollywood’s Board of Trustees slipped in a few final changes—like renaming Prospect Avenue to Hollywood Boulevard.
As the first decade of the Twentieth Century came to a close, Hollywood, as well as the rest of the world, poised on a precipice of change. Horseless carriages, flying machines and telephones were just a few of the cutting edge inventions that were slowly reshaping daily life. A newfangled form of noiseless entertainment, affectionately referred to as “flickers,” was also taking hold.
Early flickers were brief—hovering right around ten minutes. They consisted of one reel of film—some made for laughs, some for excitement, but all meant to entertain. These one-reelers were often shown on a simple white sheet that hung from the ceiling of a church basement, vaudeville theater or town hall. Sometimes department stores also hosted flickers if the owners wanted to earn extra income after hours. There were even some tent-carrying exhibitors who took their show on the road. For a nickel or a dime, patrons could witness a little action. Before long, entrepreneurs like Sid Grauman, Harry Warner and Louis B. Mayer realized that presenting flickers might well turn into a lucrative business.
Sidney Patrick Grauman’s journey to Hollywood began in Indianapolis, Indiana where he was born to Rosa Goldsmith and her husband, David Grauman, in 1879 on St. Patrick’s Day—hence his middle name. From Indianapolis, the Graumans trekked across the country touring with vaudeville and minstrel shows. Grauman once claimed: “I went to a hundred schools, and I never got out of the fifth grade.” The first time he put on a show, the ten-year-old was simply trying to rescue a friend’s birthday party from boredom. Much to everyone’s delight, he rounded up the guests and asked them to perform.
In 1898, as the Alaskan gold rush fever spiked, the elder Grauman took his son to the Yukon hoping to strike it rich. Panning for gold didn’t quite work out, but there, in the rugged terrain, young Gra
uman found his calling. The following year, father David was forced to leave Alaska and his son behind due to an illness in the family. Before he left, however, he gave the boy $250. Grauman gambled it away in no time. Now alone and needing money, the resourceful child bought newspapers for eighteen cents each and then sold them to the miners for a dollar. He also arranged for some entertainment—usually boxing matches or other talent when he could find it. He even persuaded budding novelist Jack London to help him sell tickets. (Years later, Grauman took an uncredited part of a poker player in the 1935 movie version of Jack London’s famous book Call of The Wild.) Grauman soon realized that entertainment was a commodity everyone wanted. Better yet, they were willing to pay for it.
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