Avril smiled, she liked this slim, muscular young man. ‘That sort of thing doesn’t trouble me really—it’s unpleasant at the moment, but the Provinces and South Africa taught me how to handle situations like that long ago.’
‘Yes,’ he nodded. ‘I can see by your eyes that you’re not the sort of woman to stand for any funny business, but you won’t be worried much. The English colony will sure take you up, and then you won’t be troubled at all. You’ll be as safe among the serious artists as if you had a flat in Kensington. If I may I’d like to introduce you to one or two—they’re really nice people, most of them.’
‘I should be very pleased if you would—I do feel just a little isolated here, although of course I’ve got certain introductions.’
‘Ach! dere you are—I haf look everywhere for you, Miss Bamborough.’ Hugo Schultzer bore down on them.
‘Well—I’ll certainly look forward to seeing you again.’ With a smile Nelson Druce took his leave.
A moment later Avril saw Hinckman coming towards her. She was reminded of a general at an Aldershot Review. On either side, and little behind him moved a small crowd. Ronnie Sheringham was there, and Donelli. She noticed that nobody spoke to the great man unless he addressed them first. The other guests made way before him as if he was Royalty itself.
‘How do, Hugo?’ He spoke in a sharp voice to the German, and nodded towards Avril without taking off his hat. ‘I guess this’ll be Miss Bamborough?’
‘I ’ave bleasure to bresent to you my new star, Mr. Hinckman.’ Hugo made the formal introduction.
Hinckman twirled his cigar with a quick motion of his lips. ‘See here, Schultzer,’ he said abruptly, ‘I’d like to have Miss Bamborough take the lead in a production I figure to make. “The Forbidden Territory”, it’s called. Will you take a profit on her contract?’
‘No! I haf use for Miss Bamborough in the film I make myself.’ The German looked sullen.
‘Okay. Now, Miss Bamborough, I’d certainly like to have you in this film of mine—I’ll raise your contract price and pay damages—that is if I have to! to Schultzer here. What d’you say?’
Avril looked him straight in the eyes. ‘Thank you, Mr. Hinckman. No—Mr. Schultzer has given me a contract, and no increase of salary would induce me to break it.’
Hinckman shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘Okay, Miss Bamborough—but you’re green to Hollywood. Trans-Continental Electric don’t hand out star contracts every day. If Hugo should find himself unable to fulfil you’ll be on the train back to Europe, or warming up a pew in the agents’ office—looking for a job!’ He turned away with a quick laugh, and as the little crowd that formed his general staff moved to follow him—Avril heard him say: ‘Come on, boys—did you hear that dame? I guess she doesn’t know what’s coming to her—but it’s nix to me.’
3
The Gathering of the Powers
Jos Hinckman took his seat at the end of a long, baize-covered table in a private room of the Excelsior Hotel. Ronnie glanced quickly at his face as he sat down beside him. Hinckman had Red Indian blood in his veins; the big nose, the high cheek bones, and rather narrow eyes with their hard, inscrutable stare, all proclaimed it. His magnificent physique came from a Prussian mother. It was a queer mixture—Red Indian and Prussian. Ronnie thought of cruelty, cunning, and unscrupulous determination—the worst aspects of both races, yet Hinckman was not without a certain rather forceful charm. His joviality, and a veneer of politeness assimilated through his long association with the better types of big business men, served to cloak his real character, but Ronnie Sheringham was a shrewd observer—he felt that removed from his present sphere, or thwarted in some strong desire, Hinckman might easily revert to the ethics of the mining camp in which he had been bred, and take the law into his own hands.
Dismissing Hinckman from his mind for the moment, Ronnie turned his attention to the other nine men who were finding places at the board. They were the key personalities of the giant American film corporations.
No secretaries or stenographers were present. The doors were locked, and Hinckman’s men patrolled the corridors. He was anxious that the conference should not be interrupted under any pretext. Each of the magnates had observed certain precautions in the manner of their arrival at the hotel—had entered by a side door, and been shown straight up the service staircase. All were anxious that the public, and more particularly the Press, should remain in ignorance of this meeting, at least until it was over.
Before each place was set a neat pile of white paper—two freshly sharpened pencils, a blotting pad and ash tray. At each end of the table reposed a massive ink-stand, and a quantity of pens with bright new nibs. The blinds were down, and the artificial light threw its pale rays on the baize, struggling—not very successfully—against the strong sunlight which glowed through the shuttered windows. The atmosphere was tense—electric!
‘Waal, gentlemen,’ Hinckman began, ‘you’re all here, I see, an’ you all know each other, that is with the exception of my young friend, Mr. Sheringham. He was not at our first meeting, and maybe he’s not acquainted with you all. That being the case, I’ll take the liberty of making him known to you.
‘On your right there, Mr. Sheringham, is Uncle Andy Wilson of World Wide Pictures. Next, Mr. Walt Cinch, of Klein Brothers, who I guess you already know. Then Mr. Percy Piplin, who you’ve seen many a time in his make-up if you haven’t seen him in the flesh before; he’s the biggest of the big noises in his own concern—Star Artists. Hugo Schultzer’s next, of Ubiquitous Films, and at the bottom of the table, Mr. Barton Druce, of Pacific Players. Up the other side, Mr. Rudy Stillman of Stillman’s Comedies. Then Handsome Harry Honeydew, whose pictures, I guess, you saw as a kid—he’s Reno Films Limited. Next, Mr. Amos McTavish, of Alpha Talkies, and on my other side here, the great little Issey Vandelstein, who’s Mozarts.
‘Now, gentlemen, Mr. Sheringham is here today because he represents certain very important British interests. Maybe on the other side, the motion picture business in not so powerful as it is in the States, but they’re big enough to form a serious opposition, and it is obviously to our advantage to have at least one British corporation toeing the line with us here. I only wish we had one of the Jung group to speak for Germany, but we’ll fix that later; anyhow, Mr. Sheringham is here today in the interests of the Britishers!’
A succession of nods, varying in amiability, acknowledged Ronnie’s introduction. He smiled genially at each of the others in turn.
Hinckman tapped the ash off his cigar, and went on. ‘A fortnight ago I asked you gentlemen to meet me in this room, and I laid before you what to my mind is by far the biggest commercial undertaking of the century. I put it to you, then, that you should consult your boards, and meet me here again—fully empowered by them to discuss this gigantic proposition, and to state their willingness or unwillingness to participate. During the last two weeks I have had the opportunity of going into the possibilities of this thing, even more thoroughly than I did before. And I am today more than ever convinced of the enormous advantages which such a scheme offers to us all. Combination and Amalgamation are the business watchwords of this era. In fifty years’ time the world will be full of combines—why wait for our grandchildren to reap the benefits: let’s sink our differences—and make big money now! At first sight it may seem that such a mighty conception is impracticable in application, but believe you me—if we get together it can be done. At the present moment we are, one and all, in a greater or less degree—up against it financially: put this thing through and it will set the whole industry on its feet in a state of flourishing prosperity such as it has never known before. Now, gentlemen, I’d be glad to hear your views.’
For a full minute there was complete silence—then Mr. Cinch, a small, wizened man with close-set eyes, half-hidden beneath his pince-nez, coughed into his hand, and spoke in a reedy voice.
‘Well, people—I’ve had a talk with one or two of my codirectors in Klein Brothers, a
nd we feel Jos Hinckman is one hundred per cent right. It’s a mighty big proposition, I’ll allow, but take a think about the profits. A rock-bottom guaranteed market for every film we make!—where’ll the Exhibitor be, I’d like to know?—why, in the bread-queue like a lot of other poor bums!—we’ll sure hand him a dollar a day and the real rake-off comes to us boys here. I’ll hand it to Jos Hinckman for having the big idea—and Walt G. Cinch, who’s Klein Brothers, is with him right along the line.’
Mr. Percy Piplin looked quietly round the table, he was also a small man, but very different in appearance to Mr. Cinch. Few of the millions who know his grotesque prototype so well on the screen, would have recognised in his narrow, clever face and greying hair, their beloved Percy.
‘I’m afraid, in a way, that I am here under false pretences,’ he said with a little smile. ‘As you are aware, Star Artists is a corporation which differs in nearly every particular from all others. We produce—direct—and star in our own films. In addition to that we have the good fortune to be in the unique position, that the release of one of our films is a great public event. We possess no chains of cinemas or agents in the ordinary sense—we hire other people’s houses for the exhibition of our films, very often theatres which are not in the usual way connected with the motion picture business. If every picture house in the world were closed to us tomorrow, we should still take theatres to exhibit our films, and our publicity department would bring them to the notice of the masses. In fact, we are the one example of a group of artists marketing their talents direct to the man in the street. I therefore—and I may say that Mr. and Mrs. Marybanks are at one with me in this matter—can see no possible advantage in entering Mr. Hinckman’s Combine. There may be certain advantages in the scheme for other corporations, so I propose to leave you to your deliberations with the best of good wishes, but—gentlemen—the proposition does not interest Star Artists.’
Mr. Percy Piplin then took up a brand-new bowler hat, and, the door having been unlocked for him, shook the dust of the council chamber of his less-fortunate brethren, from off his feet.
‘Waal! an’ that’s that!’ said Hinckman with a grin. ‘Star Artists are sure in a unique position—I didn’t figure for one moment that they’d come in—but praise the Lord, it’s the only concern of its kind. Who’s next?’
‘I’d like to say a word.’ Uncle Andy threw out his chest. ‘This is how I see it, gentlemen. It’s a great proposition that Jos is putting up all right—but is it practical?—that’s what I want to know. All of us has got good assets—World Wide has got a whole heap, but all of us has got bad ’uns floating around as well—now, how’s that going to pan out in the event of a takeover? I see the bunch of us wrangling like a lot of old washerwomen as to whether some flop’s contract’s worth two cents or ten!—I tell yer another thing—what about the small folks?—we’ve all got to live, and we’re big people—they don’t cut no ice—not so’s you’d notice it. They don’t stop me sendin’ my kids’ children to Yale or buying another ten-thousand-dollar automobile if my fancy gets that way—let them have their show! If I ever get to heaven I wanta be able to look my Maker in the face! This may be business—but it ain’t cricket. I guess you can count me out.’
‘Ungle Andy is right, Hinckman.’ Hugo Schultzer nodded a ponderous head. ‘All der little beoples will be smash, many artist—many gamera mens, many broducers as well. I am big business man, but also I dink for my work-beoples. How, too, would we plend all our schools of broduction?—Ungle Andy has reason. It is not bractical—dis broject—and for Ubiquitous, we brefer that it should not be.’
‘You’re wrong, Schultzer, at least that’s how I see it.’ Rudy Stillman took up the argument in a strong nasal twang. His cadaverous face became hard and grim as he leant forward on the table. One lock of his long hair dropped across his high, narrow forehead. ‘Methods of production?—nothing—we’d soon shake down to that, and I’m for business—first, last, and all the time. Stillman Comedies pay their way, well, as most things, but it’s profits I want to see. It ain’t my pigeon to keep a lot of lazy scuts around, not if there’s a better way without—and these goddam stars get more grasping every day. If there ain’t no competition they get what they’re given—an’ that’s flat. I reckon we people ought to get right down on our knees and thank Jos Hinckman for giving us the lead out of our mess. He’s the big boy all right, and Rudy Stillman’s with him all the time.’
Hinckman nodded. ‘Thanks, Rudy—I wish some of these other boys had your sound horse-sense—but you won’t regret it—we’re going to see this party through.’
Handsome Harry stood up to speak. In his imagination he faced the camera in his daily life. He posed with one hand resting on the table—the thumb of the other in the armhole of his waistcoat. ‘I think you know, gentlemen, that I have been in the moving-picture business as long as most—in fact, I can recall the days when Hollywood Boulevard was…’
‘Handsome!—Handsome!’ Uncle Andy shook his head. ‘We folks know more about your history than you do yourself! This is a business party—not a fan lecture! We’ll do the reminiscing after, you just give us the low down as you see it on this scheme of Hinckman’s.’
Handsome grinned amiably. ‘Sure—that’s true, I can’t tell you boys nothing about Hollywood, but I figure I can tell you a piece about the artist’s point of view. I don’t happen to have the good fortune to stand in the same position as Piplin and the Marybanks’ crowd—going back a bit there was a time, of course—but that’s neither here nor there; anyhow, there’s a certain similarity in our positions… I produce—direct, and star in my own films. Now, if we form this Combine where does Harry Honeydew hit the shore?—do I get a free hand to make my pictures, or don’t I? I owe it to the public who’s made me what I am, that they should continue to have that pleasure, to which they all look forward—and see a Honeydew production, starring Harry Honeydew, in their own home town.’
Mr. Cinch tittered. ‘Sure it’s interestin’ to hear about your great public, Handsome—where d’you keep it—in a hat box under yer bed?’
Honeydew turned towards the little man, he was an impressive figure as he stood there, despite his advancing age. Grey-haired, strong-limbed, fine-featured. ‘No, Sir,’ he said without a trace of humour, ‘my public is world wide. My fan mail when I made “The Return of Battling Butler” was the biggest ever received by any star in Hollwood.’
‘At that date, Handsome—at that date,’ said Uncle Andy mildly.
‘Well, maybe, but the film I’m making now—it’s a great story, I’ll tell the world. You boys just wait—and I figure to go on making motion pictures for a few years yet.’
‘If you join der Combine, they will choose der films dat dey broduce,’ Hugo Schultzer tapped a fat forefinger on the green baize.
‘Then if that’s how it’s goin’ to be Reno Films stands out.’ Handsome Harry crushed out the stub of his cigarette and sat down.
Hinckman turned to Amos McTavish, a dour, elderly man dressed in sober black. ‘Spill the beans, Amos—what’s Alpha Talkies got to say?’
Amos McTavish looked round the board with narrowed, half-closed eyes. He spoke with the curious accent of a Scotsman long resident in America. ‘It’s my considered opeenion, Hinckman, that your scheme has possibeelities, but, as ye know, I’m a man that holds strong views upon oor duty to oor fellow-men. I’ll say it certainly is true that the greater majority “know not what they do” an’ I’m a strong follower of Mr. Ford in his belief that it’s the bounden duty of every great employer of labour to care for the moral welfare of his people. Now Hollywood City has been compared to the iniquitous City of Babylon in ancient times, an’ fer close on twenty years I’ve striven with all the power that the Lord has given me to lift the moral tone of the people I employ; often, perhaps, against their wish, but for their ultimate salvation. The Alpha Talkie Corporation is a shining light in the darkness of this city. Our people get good money, but they know that liquor is n
ot allowed. If they’re so much as reported in a speakeasy in this town—they’re fired. Non-smokers stand a stronger chance of promotion to a better job. We don’t encourage single men after the age of twenty-five, and divorce, or any sort of immorality, means immediate dismissal. Over the stars, of course, I have not the same control, and more’s the pity—but it’s a great work I’m doin’, and I’d certainly be interested to know the attitude of the Combine on this important head. Will they be prepared to follow my example?—to continue the regulations at present enforced by the Alpha Corporation for the moral uplift of the workers, and co-operate in a sincere attempt to clean up this city?’
‘There’s a lot in what you say, Amos,’ Hinckman nodded solemnly, ‘an’ I reckon we’d undertake to adopt your views. Whatever our private tastes may be we all know the deleterious effects of liquor on the workers from the business point of view, an’ neckin’ parties in their free time don’t make fer better work in the studios either. I’d be proud to associate myself with you in a genooine campaign to make Hollywood go clean. I’ll go further by pointing out that by forming a combine we’d be able to control the stars as well as the workers. Public scandal in connection with a star would bar them from the Combine sets. That would compel them to give an example of clean living. There’s more to it than that even, an’ it’s a point that I don’t know if you gentlemen have sufficiently realised. A combine would be in a position to dictate the subject of its pictures without fear of competition because there’d be no fellers to hand out the hot baby stuff. We’d be able to raise the moral tone of the talking pictures altogether—and thereby influence for good the morality of the entire wurld.’
The Scotsman’s eyes were filled with a fanatic gleam. ‘That’s the finest word I’ve heard ye speak fer many a day, Jos Hinckman. Amos McTavish is with ye—an’ ye have the blessing of the Lord.’
Such Power is Dangerous Page 4