We cannot get away from the fact that the grosses from the Wheeler-Woolsey pictures have steadily and drastically declined, each successive release being less than the preceding one. The fluctuation is from a high of $932,000 to as low as $469,000…. It may be that we can develop another team of comedians and build them up to popularity and this would be better than paying Wheeler and Woolsey what seems to be a prohibitive salary in view of the declining grosses…and considering also that it has been the history of comedy teams that they go down rather than up in popularity as time goes on.52
An agreement was eventually reached between RKO and the comedians. Although details are unclear, the two would continue to appear in Radio Pictures for several more years.
Whether David Selznick would be around to offer them guidance became an open question. His initial agreement with RKO had expired in October, but he continued to work while new terms were discussed. Kahane was in favor of keeping Selznick on and giving him a raise of $1,000 a week and a participation in the profits of the company's films if he continued to oversee all production, or a percentage of the profits of an independent unit if he decided to head one up.
David Selznick had cut filmmaking costs while producing pictures that were, on the whole, both critically and financially superior to those of his predecessors. He had also attracted promising new talent to the company, including Merian C. Cooper, who was then producing a special picture that was the talk of the town. Selznick was so enthusiastic about it that he was squeezing the budgets of other productions to ratchet up the film's special-effects budget. His staff members were still considering different possible titles; they would eventually decide to call it King Kong.
Nevertheless, Selznick would still shoulder the blame for a number of 1932 disappointments, even some films started before he arrived. The first two Dolores Del Rio films, Girl of the Rio and Bird of Paradise, lost $230,000 and $250,000 respectively. And the Ann Harding-Laurence Olivier vehicle Westward Passage posted a $250,000 loss. On the plus side, Bring ‘Em Back Alive, a feature documentary starring adventurer Frank Buck was a nice surprise; RKO's fees for distributing the indie brought the company $155,000 in profits. And Katharine Hepburn's debut became the second most profitable film of the year.
A Bill of Divorcement starred John Barrymore, but Hepburn made an indelible impression under George Cukor's direction. Selznick described the way the first audience responded to her screen introduction:
Not until the preview was the staff convinced we had a great screen personality. During the first few feet you could feel the audience's bewilderment at this completely new type, and also feel that they weren't quite used to this kind of a face. But very early in the picture there was a scene in which Hepburn just walked across the room, stretched her arms, and then lay out on the floor before the fireplace. It sounds very simple, but you could almost feel, and you could definitely hear, the excitement in the audience…. In those few feet of film a new star was born.53
When the picture was finished, Selznick feared that RKO's New York office would not publicize and advertise it properly. He dispatched the following memo to several company officers, including Ned Depinet of distribution, Harold Franklin of theaters, and Robert Sisk of advertising:
Seldom in my experience have I heard such industry enthusiasm for a picture as for “A Bill of Divorcement.”…I think there is great danger of our under-estimating it, under-advertising it, and underselling it; and I urge that everything possible be put behind it. I know that one or two executives…felt that magnificent as it was, the picture was, perhaps a bit above the heads of the audience. I cannot at all subscribe to this conclusion…. I have too often in the past seen executives mistaken in stating that “this is box office” and “this is not box office” to believe that any picture of the outstanding quality of “A Bill of Divorcement” does not have every chance to be successful. And even if it is correct that the picture is “too good for our audiences” (and I, personally, don't think there is such a thing), I do not think we should arrive at this conclusion in advance of its presentation to the public.54
Selznick was right—the film, which cost $250,000 to produce, turned a profit of $110,000.
Late in the year, however, two costly mistakes combined to undermine Selznick's credibility. Rockabye, the final film released under the RKO Pathe logo, was a weepy paean to mother love. RKO bought the rights to Lucia Bronder's play from Gloria Swanson, then rushed it into production because of certain commitments to exhibitors and to Constance Bennett. George Fitzmaurice, who had directed Rudolph Valentino's last film, The Son of the Sheik, and two of Greta Garbo's early talkies, was borrowed from MGM. Selznick felt the ideal leading man would be Leslie Howard, but he was unavailable. Joel McCrea, a member of the stock company, seemed the logical choice. Selznick, however, decided McCrea was not “the sensitive mental type” and negotiated a deal with Paramount to use Phillips Holmes instead.55
Production went forward without significant problems, but the finished film was a stunning disappointment. B. B. Kahane sheepishly wrote M. H. Aylesworth to explain what had happened:
The Constance Bennett picture, “ROCKABYE,”…was previewed while I was in New York and reports had come to me that it was quite bad and that “retakes” were necessary. Upon returning to the Studio I saw the picture myself and was shocked to see how bad it had turned out. As you probably know, we borrowed one of Metro's ace directors, George Fitzmaurice…and it is incredible that a director of Fitzmaurice's reputation could bungle a production in the manner he did. I understand that patrons who saw the picture at the preview laughed at scenes in the picture that were intended to get tears.56
Believing that release of the film would do “irreparable injury” to both the studio and Connie Bennett, Selznick decided to replace Phillips Holmes with Joel McCrea and bring on George Cukor to direct two weeks of retakes. A good deal of rewriting was also part of the salvage effort. Rockabye was repaired to the satisfaction of Selznick and Kahane and eventually released, but it was still one of the studio's most feeble efforts. It completed its run a $215,000 loser.
Figure 5. Rockabye (1932). Director George Cukor coaxes a per for mance from June Filmer as Constance Bennett and Joel McCrea look on. Cukor had replaced the film's original director, George Fitzmaurice. (Courtesy of the University of Southern California Cinematic Arts Library)
Equally disillusioning was the promised Richard Dix-Ann Harding “super-special,” The Conquerors. Although Selznick sent memos around discouraging the comparison, here was a film with the same kind of historical breadth and epic sweep as Cimarron.57 Selznick, however, voiced concerns because the cost of The Conquerors would be some $800,000 less than that of the Richard Dix-Irene Dunne production. He felt audiences might unfairly compare the less expensive picture to the Academy Award winner.
The studio hired William Wellman to direct from Robert Lord's screenplay, which was based on a story by Howard Estabrook. The finished film encompassed life in the United States from 1870 to the early 1930s. Its central figures were one American family (headed by Dix and Harding) whose three generations triumph over a variety of hardships and lay the foundations of a great midwestern banking institution in the process. Thematically, the film hammered home the notion that after each of its periods of economic crisis, America has not only recovered but forged ahead to greater prosperity. It was obviously designed to provide a tonic to cheerless Depression audiences.
Kahane and Selznick viewed the results with unrestrained enthusiasm. Kahane wrote Ned Depinet on October 4 that The Conquerors “should be one of the big pictures of the year.”58 Selznick topped that by predicting it would be “one of the biggest pictures ever made.”59 A Thanksgiving release was chosen, and the initial reviews and attendance were gratifying. Business, however, fell off quickly; it soon became obvious that The Conquerors would be a failure. Selznick testily blamed the advertising department for inadequately exploiting the picture.60 Whatever the causes, The Conquero
rs ultimately was recorded in RKO's ledgers at a loss of $200,000.
David Selznick's contract was a priority for RKO's New York executives, but they had other important matters on their minds as well. The first structure completed in Rockefeller Center was the RKO Building. When it came time to move there, however, the beleaguered company could not pay for all the space it had leased. Neither could RCA afford all the square footage it was supposed to occupy in its tower, so David Sarnoff entered into negotiations with the owners to reduce both commitments. In addition, the opening of the Radio City theaters was fast approaching.
Originally, RKO was supposed to manage four theaters, but the executed plan, thankfully, reduced the number to two. The showpiece of the complex was Radio City Music Hall, a 6,200-seat palace at 50th Street and Sixth Avenue intended for the presentation of stage shows and vaudeville entertainment. Complementing the Music Hall was the RKO Roxy, a 3,700-seat auditorium for movies at 49th and Sixth that would also feature live performances, though not of the same magnitude as those offered by the Music Hall.
Samuel Lionel “Roxy” Rothafel, a showman and radio personality of near-legendary fame, was chosen to direct the operations of both theaters. Rothafel had already worked his magic on a number of New York houses—the Regent, the Strand, the Rialto, the Rivoli, and the Capitol—transforming them from lackluster halls into popular venues and all within six years.61 At the time he was signed to take charge of the new Radio City theaters, he was running a Broadway theater named after him, the Roxy. Rothafel was renowned for the histrionic present at ions he had designed and directed for his theaters, but they had always complemented film screenings. Radio City Music Hall would be different, he said, “This is the first time in my career that I have attempted to do anything without moving pictures. We will not have movies in the Music Hall. We have traveled all over the world to secure talent for it.”62
Signed to assist Roxy at the Music Hall were music director Erno Rapee, art director Robert Edmond Jones, and Florence Rogge, Martha Graham, and Russell Markert in charge of dancing.63 December 27, 1932, was the day chosen for the grand opening of the Music Hall, with the RKO Roxy scheduled to present its first movie two nights later. One of the most beautiful theaters ever built, the RKO Roxy would, unfortunately, always be dwarfed by its grandiose sibling. It offered a perfect venue for motion picture presentations.
The great evening arrived and Roxy was ready. The packed house at the Music Hall included such luminaries as William Randolph Hearst, Will Hays, Charlie Chaplin, Amelia Earhart, Leopold Stokowski, Fannie Hurst, Ethel Barrymore, Gene Tunney, Noel Coward, Irving Berlin, Rose Kennedy, and numerous members of the Rockefeller family led by the patriarch of the Center, John D. Rockefeller, Jr. David Sarnoff and Merlin Aylesworth were also on hand to see the show in America's grandest theater. They would all be subjected to nearly five hours of “diversion”:
The opening Music Hall program offered, in addition to numbers by the orchestra and resident ballet and chorus, Taylor Holmes in a musical dramatic sketch, aerialists, comedy by Sisters of the Skillet, Doctor Rockwell and H. Ray Bolger; Fraulein Vera Schwarz of the Berlin Opera, the Tuskegee choir, an allegorical dance by Harold Kreutzberg, excerpts from “Carmen” featuring Titta Ruffo, Coe Glade, Aroldo Lindi and Patric Bowman, the Martha Graham dancers, Weber & Fields and a concluding minstrel number with DeWolf Hopper acting as a master of ceremonies.64
Reports indicate that the audience, captivated at first by the scope and sheer magnificence of the Music Hall, became progressively bored, then exhausted with the overblown extravaganza. By the end of the nineteenth and final act at 2:30 the next morning, most of the seats were empty. The journalistic reviews were mixed, but some hinted it would take spectacular shows to make the Music Hall work, considering the darkened times.
It quickly became obvious that the Music Hall was not going to work at all; indeed, it became a disaster unprecedented in show business history. A total of $180,000 was lost during its first sixteen days with admission prices set at $2.75.65 The solution was to change over to motion pictures as the prime attraction, with stage performances and vaudeville in support. This made the RKO Roxy, which had presented RKO's The Animal Kingdom as its premiere attraction, a rather obvious redundancy. Less than two weeks after its opening, the brand-new Roxy was slated to close pending determination of future policy.
Terry Ramsaye analyzed the fiasco in brutal detail, bestowing his heaviest sarcasm on RKO:
If the seating capacity of the Radio City Music Hall is precisely 6,200, then just exactly 6,199 persons must have been aware at the initial performance that they were eye witnesses to something tremendously more astonishing than the opening of the world's biggest theatre. It was the unveiling of the world's best “bust.”
Carefully utilizing every imposing modern resource from money to metallurgy, with the single exception of plain common sense, RKO and its executive control have attained a negative triumph beyond compare in the history of the amusement industry.66
After outlining RKO's other corporate misadventures, Ramsaye fixed Merlin Aylesworth in his sights as chief architect of the nightmare:
It has been somewhat more privately than publicly said that Mr. Aylesworth had little option about assuming the RKO presidency if he were to continue in his happier job as president of the National Broadcasting Company. But, anyway, he did take the additional responsibility, and what he has done about it, and had caused to be done about it, is about as apparent as the Grand Canyon—with about the same cubic content of nothing.67
Columbia's The Bitter Tea of General Yen, directed by Frank Capra, was the first film to play the Music Hall, with admission prices scaled down to a range of 35 to 99 cents. Stage shows continued, but Rothafel fell ill and disappeared for several months, while Robert Edmond Jones and three members of the administrative staff resigned. Aylesworth, Franklin, and other RKO functionaries held a series of meetings to determine the best plan for RKO's newly leased theaters. Reversing an earlier decision, they announced that the RKO Roxy would not cease operations; The Animal Kingdom would continue to screen for an indefinite period.68
When the initial arrangement was made, the RKO executives must have been thrilled by the idea of having these extraordinary new houses as the flagships of their theatrical empire. Now the concept had gone very wrong, and they also had to deal with the office space problem. David Sarnoff would eventually negotiate a reduction in both the amount and cost of RKO space in its new building at 1270 Sixth Avenue, plus better terms for managing the theaters. But part of the arrangement was the transfer of 100,000 shares of RKO common stock to the Rockefellers.69 Now this powerful family owned a stake in the future of the company, and its members would not always remain passive investors.70
David Selznick did not attend the opening of the Music Hall, but some of the patrons' idle conversation that evening must have been about him. One day before, Time had published a story claiming he had resigned as vice-president in charge of RKO production.71 It pinpointed a disagreement between Selznick and other RKO officials about implementation of the “unit plan” as a major factor in his decision. The story was, in fact, premature; Selznick continued to work, and contract talks dragged on during the first month of 1933.
This was a particularly bad time for RKO and, by extension, for Selznick's negotiations. The Rockefeller Center debacle was capped by rumors that the company might have lost as much as $10 million in 1932. The eagerly awaited King Kong was still in production with costs mounting steadily. And by the end of January the movie enterprise was scraping bottom; the dreaded condition of equity receivership now appeared to be a certainty.
The sticking point that ultimately aborted Selznick's RKO career was not directly related to any of these difficulties. Nor were his salary demands; the company offered him $2,500 per week plus 20 percent of the net profits of the pictures he produced, which Selznick apparently felt was generous.72 The one aspect of the arrangement that he could not abide was s
pecified in President Aylesworth's final telegram to Kahane concerning the contract: “It must also be specifically understood that the final approval of the story and budget for each picture shall be subject to your written approval and my telegraphic confirmation. In other words, you, as president of Radio Pictures, must have veto power and final authority subject to my confirmation with respect to story subject and budgets.”73 Selznick had informed Kahane in January that he would not accept anything less than total autonomy concerning these matters: “I could not consider accepting the possibility of any veto power on the part of anybody on stories which I might select. This is in all due respect to you [Kahane], but is a matter of policy under any change from which I do not think it possible for a production head to function properly.”74
It is conceivable that Deac Aylesworth had lost faith in his production leader by this time—that he made this demand knowing it would provoke Selznick to resign. During the remainder of his time as corporate president, Aylesworth never demonstrated an inclination to ride herd on studio matters. Or perhaps he simply wanted to force Selznick to acknowledge his position and authority—to make certain the headstrong young man understood he was subservient to the company's leader. It is even possible that RKO's corporate president had developed a personal dislike for Selznick, who was arrogant, quick-tempered, and sorely lacking in the political skills that were Aylesworth's specialty. Whatever Aylesworth's motivation, the negotiations reached a dead end and were broken off. In early February, Selznick composed a memo to Kahane in which he indicated he could have accepted Kahane's authority. The idea of oversight from three thousand miles away, however, was intolerable: “But an authority in addition to your own on production matters, that of New York—was something else again. I consider that it would be completely impossible for any production head to operate if he had to submit himself to what Mr. Aylesworth demanded—the approval by himself of every script and budget.”75
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