In Theda Bara's Tent (as Reviewed by Publisher's Weekly)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Heart pounding, I phoned Inside Scoop and heard that Miss Tepper had gone to the Coast and would be working at the Hollywood office for the next several months. It was unreasonable to expect her to let me know. Given her beauty and her job, she probably had dozens of people wanting to know her. How ridiculous I was taking her attention seriously. I was hurt, nonetheless, and sat at my desk with a heavy heart.
A few weeks later, Louie came to town for his big interview, and we met for a late lunch in Times Square across the street from Loew’s headquarters, a sixteen-story office tower on Broadway.  “Look at them,” he said, flicking his head toward the pedestrians we saw through the window, “all bundled up. Is this what you need, freezing weather? When this thing goes through, you’ll come to me.”
Louie, you never give up! I love New York.
Because you love pollution? Because you love crowds? Because you love food that isnt fresh? He was thirty-four and still wore his armor of swagger.
Because I love my work, and I think its beautiful here.
Beautiful? Ill tell you whats beautiful. The ocean is beautiful. He swallowed and took another big bite. The desert is beautiful, dry but beautiful in its own way, especially during the sunset.
The moon above the buildings at night, Louie. Thats beautiful.

The moon above a building is not beautiful, for your information. The moon above the ocean, yes. The moon above the desert? Yes. The moon in Yosemite National Park. Now thats worth seeing. Heres a question for you. When is the last time you saw stars? I wondered if I should tease him and describe the last time I got punched or the last time I saw a famous actor. Just what I thought, he said. And heres another question for you. When is the last time you picked a fig from a tree and ate it on the spot? On the spot. Tell me that. I dare you to tell me that.
I laughed. You win, Louie. Im throwing the fight. We ate a few bites thinking our own thoughts, mine being how happy I was that hemlines had gone up because I had an excellent view of pretty legs at the next table.
It’s true I’m just renting. You’re right. I don’t own my own place out there like your precious William Fox. I ain’t saying it’s ideal. Did I ever say that? No, I did not. Sometimes the monkeys get out. Is that so terrible? And the lions are noisy at night. Anita has a legitimate gripe about that. We got plenty of horses right there. When we shot In Old Kentucky, who knew we ain’t in Kentucky? Nobody, that’s who. We got thirty acres of scenery. We got palm trees for jungle scenes, caves, African village sets, a eucalyptus grove for sylvan scenes. We also got a building for indoor shooting. I hired Lois Weber to direct. I sent her a telegram saying my unchanging policy will be great star, great director, great play, great cast. You are authorized to get these without stint or limit. Spare nothing, neither expense, time nor effort. Results only are what I am after. Simply send me the bills, and I will okay them.”
          “She must think you’re a millionaire.”
“It don’t hurt to impress people.” We chewed for a while without talking. “You remember that picture of Teddy Roosevelt’s safari that Ray Owen showed at the Bijou in Haverhill?”
 “Of course. We played big-game hunter for weeks after that.”
“Colonel Selig made that. In Chicago. Teddy Roosevelt wouldn’t take him with him to Africa, so he made an African picture of his own.”
“What do you mean? I saw Teddy Roosevelt on the screen with my own eyes.”
    “It was a Chicago vaudeville actor Selig hired for the part.”
    “But I saw Teddy Roosevelt shoot a lion.”
    “That was just some busted down old lion that Selig bought from some menagerie in Milwaukee. He killed it for the picture. They put some greenery in a cage—it looks like the jungle. They hire some Negroes to act like gun bearers—one of them hands a gun to the actor, and he pretends to shoot, and down goes the lion.”
    “It wasn’t Teddy Roosevelt?”
    “Look at you. You who is now in the business of making up things and calling it news. Forget about it. You’re coming to me the minute this thing is settled. When you say no, its because you dont know what youre talking about. Period. He leaned across the table. Dont look now, but aint that Douglas Fairbanks sitting over there?
It wasn’t Teddy Roosevelt?
I said dont look now!
Yes. Hes in town promoting Robin Hood.
Ill go say hello. Louie wiped his mouth on his napkin and stood up.
Do you know him?

What difference does that make? He crossed the room avoiding frantic waiters carrying trays and interrupted the actors conversation with three other men at a table in the corner. Douglas Fairbanks looked blank, then nodded politely, smiled his famous broad smile, extended his hand, introduced Louie all around. Then Louie returned and sat down across from me. One day hell remember that he first met me here. Would you enjoy to have a piece of cheesecake? He flagged a waiter. Looks like you dont eat. Youre skin and bones. Dont you eat? Why dont you eat?
I eat.
What you need is a girl. You come to me out there, and youll find the most beautiful girls you ever saw. Not one. Not two. Hundreds. Thats how many there are. And do they want to get married? You bet they do. They may be beautiful but theyre normal, red-blooded American girls.” I was happy to see Louie—he felt like home to me, but I didn’t like feeling so young. It didn’t seem to make any impression on him that I was not a young boy anymore, and just as I was thinking maybe I was wrong about this, he repeated something he used to say to me when I was in elementary school. “You follow my sainted mothers advice and youll never get in trouble. Only do it to make babies. He flagged the waiter again and took a slurp of coffee. “The merger of the Goldwyn studio in Culver City, California, with Metro Pictures will create one of the largest film-production companies in the world.”
“It’s not what you wanted though.”
“No. It ain’t. You’re the only one in the world who would ever say those words to me, Harry.” He pushed cole slaw around on his plate with his fork. “I got a late start.”
“No, that’s not it, Louie.”
“What’s it, then. You tell me.”
“You’re tired of owning your own business. You want a steady paycheck, like me. You’re tired of coming up short.”
“I don’t come up short. Who says I come up short.” There was no need to answer this. He was in New York applying for a job. He had decided to be someone else’s employee.
Louie took a slurp of coffee and lit a cigar. Wasnt easy getting an in-person interview face to face. Marcus Loew makes a fortune of money. Has a mansion on the water in Long Island, a yacht and suits! You should see his suits. I thought I had a good tailor. I do have a good tailor. Hes Chinese. Used to work laying track for the railroad. Youll go to him when you come to me—youll get fitted. Youll look like a million dollars. Louie flagged the waiter again, then used his fingers to pick up some cole slaw that fell out of his sandwich. I can see why his employees love him so much, Louie said. Im with him, what, a couple of hours, and I love him too! Louie pushed his plate away to signal has finished. How can I describe this man to you, Harry. Hes humble. I go into his office, and Im trembling. This I can tell to you alone. Im trembling. Why am I trembling? Because I want this position so much. That is why I am trembling. Im trembling with want. Hes modest, Harry. He dont got a swelled head. He says to me, ‘If it wasnt for Sime Silverman, I wouldnt have nothing.’ I say to him, ‘You mean Sime Silverman the editor of Variety?’ He says to me, ‘Ill tell you what Sime done for me.’ His voice, Harry, is deep. Im surprised. Such a small man with such a voice. Basso profundo. Just between I and you, I am going to take elocution lessons when I get back and make my voice deeper. You can do that, you know. We got drama coaches out there, and they tell me they can make that happen. The waiter cleared our plates, took the order for cheesecake with a quick nod and hurried away into the dish-clanking, order-shouting chaos of the popular New York delicatessen.

Marcus Loew tells me that every weekend Sime Silverman drives out of the city with his chauffeur. As he motors along, he notices new housing developments. So that no other theater man will have a chance to discover the location, Silverman publishes the news in Variety.  For instance, something on the order of, Marcus Loew is developing a new realty project on the Grand Concourse, and a prime focal point will be a deluxer in the Bronx. Loew reads the item, goes to investigate, agrees its a good site and builds the Loews Paradise. Loew says to me, ‘Mr. Mayer, my theater empire was built by Sime Silverman.’” The waiter delivered our cheesecake, banged the plates down and hurried away. “You know what he says to me? He says, ‘Mr. Mayer, do you know why all Loews theaters have such fancy ladies’ rooms?’ The reason for this, he says to me, is that he grew up on the Lower East Side and remembers what its like to schlep downstairs to an outhouse in the courtyard. Some of my patrons still live like that, Mr. Mayer, he says to me. Some of them pay the dime just to use the ladies’ room, just to smell the perfumed soap. Louie nodded his head thinking about it. To work for such an individual is not a comedown.
No, indeed.
Its an honor. Its a privilege. Its the prize! Then he leaned way across the table and whispered, I offered him Hearst.
William Randolph Hearst?
Just a man, Louie said, sitting back with a look of self-satisfaction. Just a man, Harry. Louie bounced his fist against his heart. Has a heart that breaks like any of us.
I take it you found the very thing that breaks his?
Louie smiled at me. Yes, I did. And I knew of all the people in the world you would recognize the brilliance in what I have done.
Do tell.

I did it through the girl. My reasoning was this, he said. William Randolph Hearst may be worth four hundred million, but what he really cares about is Marion Davies. This I know from an interesting thing he said once, which is that Marion is the best friend he ever had. Men dont say that about their mistresses. It made an impression. Especially because hes old enough to be her father. So I took this to mean their relationship is deeper than just what you and me think. Louie took a bite of cheesecake and continued, mashed cheesecake on his teeth. She was threatening to leave him. Everyone out there knew it. And we all knew her gripe too. She dont like the roles Hearst makes her play. The pretty milkmaid, the innocent virgin. He don’t recognize she ain’t that nineteen-year-old chorus girl he met at Ziegfeld’s. She’s a grown woman. He gives her an allowance, for crying out loud, like she’s a kid! She can see her picture career ain’t going nowhere, no matter how many favorable articles Louella writes about her. She ain’t dumb. She knows all that publicity he gives her makes her a laughingstock. She don’t want to be a laughingstock. Bad enough she’s a social pariah and can’t show her face in New York.”

    When Louie finished his cheesecake, he wiped the plate with his finger and licked it off. Then he took two cigars from his vest pocket, bit the ends off both, spit them on the floor, handed one cigar to me, put the other in his mouth and lit them both with his latest, most up-to-date pocket lighter. I know her, he said. I have had many close conversations with her. She stutters, like my Irene. We puffed our cigars. She is far from a stupid individual. It is not for nothing that she does not attend parties outside of her own home. She gets snubbed. To Marion, her career is very important. Why? Because it makes her something more than a kept woman. So word comes to me through the grapevine that I have planted that Marion sees the merger of Metro and Goldwyn as her chance to get her career out from under Poppys mismanagement. Aint that cute? She calls him Poppy. She thinks some of the writers and directors at Metro might help her persuade Poppy to let her express her comic side. She wants to play brassy dames. But Poppy dont go for it at all. He hears about the merger and says he dont need Goldwyn. Hes going to start a company of his own to distribute Cosmopolitan Pictures, and he dont need Metro either. Hes going to buy his own theaters and show her pictures in them. So she says shes going to leave him. She could too. Shes got dough.” Louie flagged the waiter and ordered more coffee. Between you and I, Harry, I dont approve of a married man, the father of sons, flaunting his mistress in his wifes face. Louie shrugged. But...
Opportunity knocks.
It was banging on my door, Harry. Banging. I said shut up opportunity! I hear you! We laughed and puffed. So I make an appointment, and heres the big surprise. Louie leaned across the table. I like him. Hearst aint hoity-toity. Hes got this squeaky high voice, and the mans heart is breaking. He tells me if he could divorce his wife, he would, but he thinks the marriage vows are eternal. He dont want Marion parading around like a harlot on the screen, and he dont understand why she wants to. Hearst dont want people seeing her like that. Now hes telling me this, and Im supposed to think its for Marions own good, to save her reputation because we all know his sons call her a whore to her face. But my mother, of blessed memory, whispers in my ear, hes jealous. The man is jealous. Fears losing her to a younger man. So now I know how to proceed.

The waiter put down the coffee too fast and it sloshed into the saucer. We both poured it back into the cup and stirred in some sugar and cream. So I say to him, theres no reason for you to lose control of Marions pictures. I say to him, you are a person of experience, chief. It is right for you to want to guide her career. So he relaxes. On the other hand, I say to him, Marion is an independent person, and you like that about her. What I think, I says to him, is she should earn a salary and not an allowance. I tell him she has great talent and that he should allow her to work with the best directors and supporting actors. I suggest to him that he merge Cosmopolitan Pictures with Goldwyn and Metro and that he set up a bungalow for Marion right on the grounds of the Culver City studio. I tell him I want to be in charge of the new studio, and I tell him that when I am in charge, I will keep an eye on Marion when Hearst is away on business. I said if Im put in charge of the combined companies, Id make sure Marion is treated like a queen and that none of her pictures will have anything dirty-minded in them. So the chief says to me, ‘Consider it done, son.’
We clinked coffee cups. This morning, across the street—you can see the building from here—I lay my cards on the table to Mr. Marcus Loew himself. I tell him if I am put in charge of Metro-Goldwyn, Hearst will splash articles about Metro-Goldwyns pictures all over the pages of the New York Mirror and the Los Angeles Examiner. He will order his columnist Louella Parsons to discuss Metro-Goldwyn players helpfully and ignore the actors of other companies. Hearst has promised that he will build a fourteen-room bungalow for Marion on the Culver City lot if, and I said if with a lot of if in it, his friend Louis B. Mayer is put in charge.

A couple of days later, word came through that Louie got the job. He would be in charge of running one of the biggest picture studios in the world. He was staying at the Astor Hotel, and we met there for breakfast. He was not ecstatic. I want my name included,” Louie said to me. “I told Marcus this. I told him. I want my name included. I don’t want the name to be the Metro-Goldwyn Company. Marcus says to me, ‘Louis, it is not possible. My board of directors will not allow it.’ What he dont say to me is the name Mayer dont mean nothing to nobody. All these years, I toil, I move to California, I wake up again, and I toil—and still it dont mean nothing. You ever see my name in Variety?
Sure, I have, Louie.
Yeah? As what?
Well, as...”
Go on. Say it. As Louis Mayer of Boston. Metro-Goldwyn, now those names mean something. What am I, chopped liver?
What does your contract say?
Says when the picture starts, the main title card will be Louis B. Mayer Presents a Metro-Goldwyn Production.
Whats wrong with that?

Whats wrong? Who reads the small print? No one, thats who. They read the name of the picture, period. And there aint nothing in my contract says how big the letters of my name have to be. They could make the name so small youd need a periscope to see it.
What else does your contract say?
Says that in all advertising and paid publicity, the name Louis B. Mayer shall be prominently mentioned as the producer of said motion-picture photoplays.
Isnt that good?
No. That ain’t good. Who looks at the small print on a poster when they can look at the beautiful actress?
Louie. Be happy. Youve been hired as vice president in charge of all production activities of the Metro-Goldwyn Corporation, with a salary of fifteen hundred dollars per week. It’s right here in the Herald Tribune. See? Youre mentioned. ‘Metro, Goldwyn, Cosmopolitan and Louis B. Mayer in Giant Motion Picture Merger Headed by Loew.’

He took off his glasses, huffed on them, wiped them with a napkin and put them back on. Tomorrow that piece of paper youre holding will wrap a piece of fish. He sighed and took a bite of coffee cake. Youll come to the opening. Big shindig on the lot in Culver City.
No can do, Louie. George Bernard Shaw’s coming to town. We’ve got cameras to meet him when he disembarks.”
“You would rather do that than come see me speak before thousands of people as the head of the biggest motion-picture concern in the country?”
“I wouldn’t rather. It’s not a question of rather, Louie.  You’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it.”
Louie leaned way across the table. “Harry,” he whispered, “Only to you could I say my secret plan.” I leaned toward him in a conspiratorial way and sniffed that manly smell from my childhood, Mennen aftershave talc. “When I’m up there, when I’m on the podium, after the mayor of Culver City makes his speech, after all the hoopla dies down with the movie stars parading themselves around, I’m going to say that I’ve been warned that this new company starts off with a handicap, a name that’s not easy to say, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.”
“Louie! You can’t do that!”
“Shhh!”
“You can’t defy your own board of directors. You’re responsible to them now.”
He smiled wickedly and gave me the come-hither finger. I leaned in close. “Then I’m going to say we should have a short name, crisp and able to become familiar, like other studios. So instead of saying those long words, we’ll shorten it and call the studio M-G-M. Then I’ll say MGM is going to be the foremost movie studio in the world. He sat back, highly pleased with himself. Not a rash in sight. “What can they do? Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. That’s it. The papers are going to print what I say.”
“And you’ll say it in your new lower voice.”
He stood up. “Com’ere.” We hugged for a long time before I returned to Fox News.