The Writers: A History of American Screenwriters and Their Guild
Page 1
The Writers
The Writers
A History of American Screenwriters and Their Guild
MIRANDA J. BANKS
RUTGERS UNIVERSITY PRESS
NEW BRUNSWICK, NEW JERSEY, AND LONDON
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA
Banks, Miranda J., 1972–
The writers : a history of American screenwriters and their Guild / Miranda J. Banks.
pages cm
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978–0–8135–7139–3 (hardcover : alk. paper) — ISBN 978–0–8135–7138–6 (pbk. : alk. paper) — ISBN 978–0–8135–7140–9 (e-book)
1. Motion picture authorship—United States—History. 2. Writers Guild of America—History. 3. Motion picture industry—Employees—Labor unions—United States. 4. Television broadcasting—Employees—Labor unions—United States. 5. Screenwriters—United States—Interviews. I. Title.
PN1996.B382 2015
812'.0309—dc23
2014014280
A British Cataloging-in-Publication record for this book is available from the British Library.
Material used in chapter 5 was originally published in a much abbreviated form in “The Picket Line Online: Creative Labor, Digital Activism, and the 2007–2008 Writers Guild of America Strike,” in Popular Communication 8 (2010): 20–33. Small portions of the Introduction were published in “Oral History and Media Industries,” in Cultural Studies 8 no. 4 (2014).
Copyright © 2015 by Miranda J. Banks
All rights reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. Please contact Rutgers University Press, 106 Somerset Street, New Brunswick, NJ 08901. The only exception to this prohibition is “fair use” as defined by U.S. copyright law.
Visit our website: http://rutgerspress.rutgers.edu
Visit the author’s website: http://www.mirandabanks.tv
Manufactured in the United States of America
CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
Abbreviations Used in the Text
Introduction
1. The Artist Employee
2. Two Front Lines
3. The Infant Prodigy
4. Mavericks
5. Confederation
Conclusion
Appendix A: Screenwriters and Selected Credits
Appendix B: Methodology
Notes
Bibliography
Index
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book is a labor of love. At every point in this process I have been astonished by the support and generosity that I have received along the way. I am grateful to the wise and witty writers whom I interviewed, as well as to those who sat for interviews in 1978 for the Writers Guild Oral History Project. Every writer I approached agreed to be interviewed. I am not sure whether I am just incredibly lucky or have found the ideal subjects for research—probably both. The Writers Guild of America, both East and West Boards, and current and former employees have been wonderful resources. I am indebted to Geoff Betts for his help early on in securing interviews. The Writers Guild Foundation (WGF) is an invaluable resource, and it has become my home away from home the past five years. When I told Karen Pedersen, then the director of the Foundation’s Shavelson-Webb Library, about my book project, she said, “Thank goodness someone is writing this book,” and readily opened the vaults to me. The WGF Executive Board and Executive Director Katie Buckland have indulged my many requests. WGF Director of the Archive Joanne Lammers has been a dream partner as we combed through the archives, searching for and sharing the treasures we found. Javier Barrios and Idene Field steered me through boxes of documents, and Kevin Ott, Chris Kartje, Sandy Allyn, and Eva Gross kept me laughing during those many hours of research. Further thanks go to the WEA and WGF, as well, for granting me access to photographs from its collection for use in this book, including the two photographs on the cover.
John Caldwell continues to be my best guide to what it means to be a scholar and a professor. I am in my second decade of membership in the Cult of Caldwell, and my affection for him as a researcher, as a teacher, and as a human being continues to grow. His unwavering support through the years defines the meaning of mentorship. Jim Hosney was the first teacher who fostered my love of film and film analysis. His intellectual zeal for cinema ignited my own. I remember the day that I went to Anne Friedberg and Howard A. Rodman and told them my idea of writing a history of the Writers Guild. Anne is this book’s guardian angel, and Howard has been her counterpart on the ground, willingly opening doors and mentoring me through this project.
The Writers started when I was a visiting assistant professor at the University of Southern California in the School of Cinematic Arts. There I found a wonderful mentor and friend, Ellen Seiter. Early conversations and research with her were instrumental in forming this book project. I continued to develop this research for the Nordic Media Festival and the DigiCult conference; thanks to Helle Sjøvaag and Jostein Gripsrud, respectively, for their early interest in this work. I am lucky to have found amazing support at Emerson College, in particular from Amy Ansell, Kristin Lieb, Peter Flynn, Linda Reisman, Eric Gordon, Jean Stawarz, Jim Macak, Jane Shattuc, Matt Finn, Bob Fleming, Donna Heiland, the Emerson Engagement Lab, and my VM402 seminar students. This research was funded in part by grants from the Emerson College Faculty Advancement Fund. A number of scholars offered valuable insight along the way, in particular Thomas Schatz, Vicki Mayer, Deborah Jaramillo, Alisa Perren, Allison Perlman, Bridget Conor, Nina Huntemann, Suzanne Leonard, Bambi Haggins, and Jennifer Holt. I learned a great deal from the faculty fellowships I was awarded through the Academy of Television Arts and Sciences and the National Association of Television Producers and Executives, as well as from the access I was granted by Rob Owen to the 2007 Television Critics Association press tour.
Leslie Mitchner has been the ideal editor for this book. She immediately understood the project and helped usher it through the review and publication process with enthusiasm and sage advice. I owe great thanks to the editorial board and staff at Rutgers University Press. My anonymous readers revealed themselves along the way. Many thanks to Andrew Horton for his thoughtful evaluation. Charles Wolfe was the perfect reader for this project; with his detailed notes, it has become a stronger book. I’m so grateful to Aidan O’Donohue, a talented artist and art director, who designed my cover.
Three gifted writers assisted me with this project. Gabrielle Banks was a phenomenal researcher and editor, providing essential help at critical junctures. Mojie Crigler not only transcribed dozens of interviews for me, but also devoted hours to discussing the insights we gathered from these tapes. Alexandra Sear came late to this project, but was integral to finalizing the manuscript. I could not have dreamed of a better support team.
My friends have kept me sane, healthy, and laughing during the many years of researching and writing. In particular, I want to thank Andrea Crossan, Melissa Silverman, Joe Epstein, Jennifer Holt, Rodolfo Fernández, Claudia Bestor, Kirstin Henninger, Matt Ackley, Eloise Lawrence, Marisa Milanese, Max Brooks, and Roberta Chávez. Melissa Clark and Abbie Schiller have not only been dear friends for many years, but they also put their reputations on the line to help me with this project. Surviving the writing process was made easier through the help of Beverly Moy, Kerry Reynolds, Michelle Specht, Shannon MacDonald, Lara Traeger, and Susan Gorton. I would also
like to thank Alvin Sargent, who wisely told me during my interview with him to keep getting my check-ups.
This book is dedicated to my family: Sherry Banks instilled in me a love of brilliant writers, great characters, fabulous stories, and the written word. Jeff Banks still makes me laugh more than the great comedy writers I interviewed. My grandmother, Geraldine Janis, was the first person to delight me with stories of old Hollywood. Julia and Benjamin Rosenfeld and Jonah and Gracie Banks make my time away from work much more fun. Barry Gittelson, Gavriel Rosenfeld, and Sharmon Goodman continually have encouraged my love of Los Angeles as a cultural and historic city. Erika Banks and Gabrielle Banks continue to guide me, inspire me, and ground me.
ABBREVIATIONS USED IN THE TEXT
AAA
American Authors Authority
AFTRA
American Federation of Television and Radio Artists
ALA
Authors League of America
AMPAS
Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences
AMPTP
Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers
CAC
Contract Adjustment Committee
CFA
Committee for the First Amendment
CSU
Conference of Studio Unions
DGA
Directors Guild of America
FCC
Federal Communications Commission
HUAC
House Un-American Activities Committee
HWM
Hollywood Writers Mobilization
IATSE
International Alliance of Theatrical Stage Employees
MBA
Minimum Basic Agreement
MCA
Music Corporation of America
MPAA
Motion Picture Association of America
MPAPAI
Motion Picture Alliance for the Preservation of American Ideals
MPPDA
Motion Picture Producers and Distributors of America
NLRB
National Labor Relations Board
OWI
Office of War Information
PGA
Producers Guild of America
RWG
Radio Writers Guild
SAG
Screen Actors Guild
SAG-AFTRA
Screen Actors Guild–American Federation of Television and Radio Artists
SP
Screen Playwrights
SWG
Screen Writers Guild
TSW
The Screen Writer
TWA
Television Writers Association
WGA
Writers Guild of America
WGAE
Writers Guild of America, East
WGAw
Writers Guild of America, West
The Writers
Introduction
IMAGE 1 Summary notes on the pilot episode, “The Target,” from David Simon’s show bible for The Wire.
Show Bible Collection, Writers Guild Foundation Archive, Shavelson-Webb Library, Los Angeles
The main reason the studios and the producers are scared of [writers] is because they know that they are crazy, that writers will do things that could be considered either suicidal or heroic, depending how you look at it—which is to act against what seems to be their best interests. . . . They are a particular breed. . . . It is the most miserable thing—you sit by yourself, wanting to kill yourself, looking at this blank screen, and who would want to do that?
—Walter Bernstein (writer of The Front and Miss Evers’ Boys), interview with the author, 16 July 2009
Screenwriters are storytellers, dream builders, and, more often than they would like, simple workaday hacks. They envision new worlds and the beings to populate them, bringing them to life through storylines and idiosyncratic details. Writers craft tales of heroism against all odds—so much so that they are sometimes swept up in the formula, becoming their own plucky protagonists in epic behind-the-scenes Hollywood dramas. Walter Bernstein, a sixty-year industry veteran and blacklist survivor, feels compelled to write by an artistic zeal and a fearless drive for individual expression. Screenwriters exist in their professional community as socially alienated intellectuals, spurned luminaries, and entertainment’s most replaceable but ultimately indispensable artists. They are creative workers building widgets within a capitalist system, fabricating stories for others to bring to life. United as a labor group, these vociferous and contentious hero-makers have lived through many episodes of industry drama writ large.
The history of each unique writer in the American entertainment industry is further revealed in the thorny tale of the union that has represented them for more than eighty years. Generation by generation, writers and their union have fought to stay afloat amid evolving screen technologies, production methods, distribution models, and shifts in the industry’s economy.1 Rather than proactively bargaining for innovative contracts, the Writers Guild’s labor negotiations emerge as reactions to industrial economics and national politics. At each juncture in the history of their craft, writers have grappled with traditional definitions of authorship, insider status, and creativity.
While most books on screenwriting focus on the script drafting process, often narrowing to an examination of an individual career arc, The Writers mines the collective experiences of writers as media practitioners and tracks the conditions of their creative labor. In the process of researching this book, I collected more than two hundred accounts of professional storytellers from in-person or historic interviews, memoirs, and archival documents. This task of patching together oral histories—each tainted by faulty memory, opinion, personal politics, and creative enhancement and omission—is, as one writer put it, “a kind of Rashomon.”2 The broader history I unearth is larger than the amalgamation of these narratives. In more than eighty years of American film and television history, writers have initiated action in pursuit of collective rights more frequently than any other professional group.
Five key moments in media history triggered monumental shifts in the profession: the formation of the Screen Writers Guild in 1933, the era of the blacklist, the wildfire expansion of television and the ensuing strike of 1960, battles over hyphenate roles and ownership in the 1970s and 1980s, and the strike of 2007–2008. In reviewing writers’ accounts of these landmark moments, I trace three concerns that inevitably manifest themselves in each era: ownership of creative work, the adjudication of credits, and the liminal boundaries of membership and community.
Defining the Writer and the Guild
BANKS: Why do you think writers have been at the forefront of labor issues in Hollywood?
NORMAN LEAR, creator of All in the Family: Maybe because they’re paid to think.
—Interview, 20 August 2013
Before diving into this rich and layered history, I want to specify what I mean by screenwriters, how I define the scope of their work, and what a writers’ guild does. Screenwriters are practitioners who put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) and set a scene. I define screenwriters as industry professionals who write for screened entertainment, whether their work appears on film, television, a video game, or streaming media. They plot narrative, craft characters and give them unique voices, and devise the action that unfolds on the page and, ultimately, the screen. Irving Thalberg, the much-celebrated head of production at MGM in the 1920s and 1930s, interrogated the writer of Street of Chance and script doctor Lenore Coffee at a story meeting: “What’s all this business about being a writer? It’s just putting one word after another.” To which Coffee responded, “Pardon me, Mr. Thalberg. It’s putting one right word after another.”3
Ideally, the work of writing is complete before the cameras roll. Writers either conceive a story idea or they are the first employees hired to flesh out someone else’s vision. In most cases, they arrive long before a cast or crew. Mel Brooks, who has worked in every facet of th
e artistic process, hailed writing as the highest of all the creative crafts in entertainment: “It’s the most splendid job . . . of all the jobs in Hollywood. The toughest job. . . . You would think the miracle would be starring or appearing in a movie, getting a movie job directing? No. The miracle is . . . getting your screenplay made into a movie. . . . Getting your dream realized. That is the biggest miracle.”4
George Axelrod, an acclaimed playwright and novelist who adapted both Breakfast at Tiffany’s and The Manchurian Candidate for the screen, declared script writing to be the most demanding form of writing. “A screenplay is the hardest single form there is. . . . It’s continuous, razor-edge-of-now action. You aren’t allowed any mistakes, because the audience is a fantastic entity. You can have 1,100 morons sitting in the audience, but when they come together in the darkness, an almost mystical thing happens, a kind of mass unconsciousness that is smarter than you are. They can spot a phony a mile off.”5
But writing takes time. Although the screenwriter is a vital player in the production process, cast and crew often gripe about the protracted period of creation. Robert Towne, who scripted Chinatown and the film version of Mission: Impossible, explained why: “Until the screenwriter does his job, nobody else has a job. In other words, he is the asshole who keeps everybody else from going to work.”6 When assuming the role of producer, though, a writer works in the front office and on the set. In the world of television, writers increasingly hold producer credits. As Cheers showrunner Cheri Steinkellner noted, “The easiest, quickest way to get from page to stage is to just do it. To be the ultimate interpreter.”7