“You were right, Peter,” I said, smiling at the proud manner in which he spoke.
He chuckled again. “They didn’t mind sitting through the whole picture?”
“They didn’t want it to finish, they liked it so much. They applauded when it was over. You should have seen them, Peter, they stood up and applauded.”
I heard him turn from the phone and say something to someone. I couldn’t make out what he said. His voice came over the phone again: “I was just telling Esther that I was right about seven reels not being too long.”
I laughed, remembering what he had said once before—that six reels were too much for a person to sit through.
He interrupted my laugh. “Esther just asked me who’s paying for this phone call.”
I looked at Borden and smiled. “We are, of course. You don’t think I would make a call like this on somebody else’s phone and not pay for it, do you?”
There was a second of stunned silence at the other end of the wire. When his voice came through, it sounded weak. “Almost twenty minutes already we been talking. A hundred dollar phone call.” His voice grew stronger. “Good-by, Johnny.”
“But, Peter—” I started to say, when I heard the click of the phone being hung up in the receiver. I stared at it a moment in a sort of surprise and hung up my phone.
I looked over at Borden and smiled. He shrugged his shoulders and together we walked out of his office into the general office. There was still a crowd of men gathered in there talking. The air was blue with smoke and conversation. Among them were the leading independents of the day.
One of them was saying: “I guess that proves it once and for all. The day of the two-reeler is over; from now on we have to think in terms of big pictures.”
“What you say, Sam?” another of them replied. “Might be true, but where are we going to make them? In New York here the outdoor season is only three months at the most. The best we could make is five pictures in that time. What’ll we do the rest of the year? Lay off?”
The first man thought for a minute before he answered: “We’ll have to go some place where there is a longer season, then.”
The second man spoke glumly; his manner didn’t express much hope. “But where? We all ain’t got friends like Kessler has. We can’t all make pictures in California.”
Suddenly everything clicked for me. I knew all the answers. “Why not, gentlemen?” I said, stepping into the middle of the group. “Why can’t you all make pictures in California?”
I looked around at them. The expressions on their faces ranged from open amazement to restrained curiosity.
“What do you mean?” one of them asked.
I looked at them a moment before I answered. I wanted them to be properly impressed with what I was about to tell them. I lowered my voice to a confidential tone.
“Magnum has not been without foresight enough, gentlemen, to realize the effect
The Bandit
would have on the future of the picture business. And Peter Kessler has not been without gratitude to his many friends among you for standing by him when the outlook was darkest. And so, gentlemen”—I lowered my voice still more and they pressed closer to hear me—“after just speaking to Kessler over the phone to California, he has informed me that he has decided to offer you the same opportunity that he himself now enjoys. To make pictures in California! Think of it, gentlemen, think of it!” I smiled to myself; this was the old carny pitch. “An opportunity to make pictures not only thirteen weeks a year, but fifty-two! An opportunity to make pictures where the sun always shines, where there’s room to make any kind of a picture you want!
“Magnum has under option almost a thousand acres of land in Hollywood. Enough land to build a hundred studios. When Lasky, Goldwyn, and Laemmle came out there, Peter got the brilliant idea that all you independents would come out too and make Hollywood the motion-picture capital of the world! And so he has authorized me to offer you the following deal. In return for your many past kindnesses and favors to him, he will transfer to you his option on as many acres and as much land as you may require for the same price that he has paid for those options! One hundred dollars an acre!
“Of course he does not expect you gentlemen to buy a pig in a poke. He will give you the option for as many acres as you wish now, subject to your approval of the site when you see it. The opportunity to select the site will be given in the same order as the option is made. That is, the first person to take an option will have the first choice of the site. If any man is not satisfied, his option money will be refunded without protest.”
Borden was as amazed as any of them. “You didn’t say anything about this to me before,” he said.
“I’m sorry, Bill,” I said, turning to him. “I was under orders from Peter not to say anything until he gave the okay. He just gave me the okay inside.”
“But what about our studios here?” Bill said. “We’ve got a lot of money tied up in them.”
“You can still use them for shorts and other subjects,” I answered, “but for big pictures and big money you will have to come to Hollywood. How big is your studio here? About three blocks square. Can you drive a hundred head of cattle through here as we did in
The Bandit
? Can you run a group of men on horses and photograph them here as we did in
The Bandit
? The answer is obvious. If you stay here, you’re limited. Limited by space, limited by time, and limited by opportunity.”
I stopped and looked around me. Their faces showed that they were impressed. I knew I had them. There was only one hitch. If any of them asked me where Peter had got the money necessary to take all these options, I was sunk. But I didn’t have to worry, because Borden was the first to sucker for it.
He took out his fountain pen and began writing a check. “I want fifty acres,” he said.
In an hour I had sold options on land we didn’t have amounting to sixty thousand dollars. The others, seeing Borden leap to the bait, fell all over themselves trying to get on the hook. It was easier than getting the yokels to buy a ticket to see Salome and her Dance of the Seven Veils.
At three o’clock in the morning I had Peter on the phone again, this time from my hotel, where no one could hear me.
He answered the phone. I could hear the sound of other voices talking excitedly in the room behind him. “Hello,” he said.
“Peter, this is Johnny.”
His voice grew excited. “I thought I told you you shouldn’t call me. It’s too expensive.”
“Damn the expense,” I said, “I had to call you. I just sold sixty thousand dollars’ worth of land out there and you have to buy some right away!”
“My God,” he shouted, his voice rising to a shrill scream, “have you gone crazy? You want us all to go to jail?”
“Calm down,” I said as quietly as I could. “I had to do it. The suckers were falling all over themselves to get out to California. It’s better that we make some dough out of it than the land sharks. What can we get an acre of land out there for?”
“How should I know?” he asked, his voice still shaking.
“Is Al there?” I asked. “If he is, ask him.”
I heard Peter turn away from the phone. A few seconds later his voice came on again. “Al says about twenty-five dollars an acre.”
I could feel the blood running into my face. I let out a sigh. I had guessed right. “Buy a thousand acres,” I told him. “That’ll cost us about twenty-five thousand dollars. I just sold six hundred acres at a hundred bucks apiece and we’ll net thirty-five thousand on the works and have enough dough left over to build a studio with.”
There was a moment of silence at the other end of the wire, then Peter’s voice came on again. There was a peculiar tone in it that I didn’t quite recognize; if I hadn’t known him better, I would have called it awe.
“Johnny,” he said slowly, “you’re a
gonif
. But a smart one.”
***
I turned back from the window, sat down behind my desk, and finished my drink. That was a long time ago, but somehow it seemed like only yesterday. Hollywood was built on a swindle and it never changed. It lived on a swindle today, only the swindlers of yesterday were beginning to meet their masters. The swindlers of today were taking them—not as we had in the old days, out of necessity, but because of greed. Today’s swindlers not only practiced on one another, but the whole world was their feeding-place.
My eyes were tired. The lids felt hot and heavy. I thought I would shut them for a little while to rest them.
***
The dull sound of voices kept tugging at my ears. I turned my head to shut them out, but they persisted. I sat back in my chair and opened my eyes and rubbed them. My body ached, my back was stiff from the uncomfortable position in which I had fallen asleep. I stretched and looked around the office. My gaze fell on the clock on the desk and I snapped up with a start. It was three thirty in the afternoon. I had been sleeping almost all day.
I got out of my chair and went into the little room next to my office. I turned on the cold water and splashed it over my face. Its chill woke me up thoroughly. I took a towel from the rack and dried my face in it. I looked in the mirror. I needed a shave.
I turned and started out of the little room to go to the barber shop when Gordon’s voice came through the wall.
“I’m sorry, Larry,” it was saying, “but I don’t see how I can agree to that. After all, my agreement with Johnny was that I was in charge of all production. Dividing it up in the manner you suggest will only lead to duplication of work and further unnecessary confusion.”
That put an end to my shave. Something was going on in Gordon’s office that I should know about. I put my hand on the door and opened it. Gordon was seated behind his desk, his face flushed and angry. Opposite him Ronsen and Dave Roth were seated. Ronsen’s face was as calm and imperturbable as usual, but Dave looked like the cat that had just got away with the canary.
I stepped into the room. Their faces turned toward me with varying expressions written on them. Gordon’s showed relief, Rosen’s annoyance, Roth’s fear. I smiled. “What’s the matter with you guys?” I asked. “Can’t you let a feller sleep?”
They didn’t answer. I walked over to Gordon and held out my hand. “Hi ya, boy, good to see you.”
He played along with me. No sign of our having met last night appeared in his voice. He took my hand. “What are you doing out here?” he asked. “I thought you were still in New York.”
“I got here last night,” I answered. “I came out to see Peter.” I turned to Ronsen. “I didn’t expect you out here, Larry.”
He looked at me searchingly a minute. If he was trying to find out what I knew, he didn’t succeed. My face was as bland as his. “Something turned up after you left, and as you weren’t there, I thought I’d fly out here and handle it for you.”
I let interest show on my face. “Yeah? What was it?”
“We got a call from Stanley Farber,” he replied. I could see that even his calm had been shaken by my unexpected appearance; he seemed to fumble a little for words. “He made us the proposition that we put Dave here in charge of our top pictures. In return for that he would see to it that we played off in all the Westco theaters and in addition loan us a million dollars.”
For the first time since I walked into the office I looked at Dave Roth. But I spoke to Ronsen. “I know Stanley,” I said. “He must want something else from us for a million bucks besides putting his protégé in charge of production.”
I didn’t take my eyes off Dave’s face while Ronsen answered: “Well, naturally we’d have to give him stock as security. You don’t expect anybody to advance us that much money without some sort of security.”
I nodded my head slowly. Dave’s face had grown paler under my gaze. Ronsen’s voice cut in eagerly; he couldn’t keep the tension from showing in it. “You mean you think it’s a good idea?” he asked.
Slowly I turned my head back to look at him. His eyes were burning brightly and fiercely behind his bifocals. More than ever he reminded me of a big, moon-faced tiger waiting to pounce on its prey. “I didn’t say I thought it was a good idea,” I said, my eyes meeting his. “But I’ll think about it. A million bucks is a lot of cabbage.”
Ronsen was pressing now; I could see he wanted me to agree with him. “That’s it, Johnny,” he said eagerly, “Farber wants an immediate answer. His offer isn’t good forever.”
“But once we accept it, we’re hooked,” I said dryly. “I know Stanley, as I said, and it won’t be anything we can get out of easily if it doesn’t work out. Dave here is a bright boy. I know he can run theaters. But he never made a picture in his life and, with all my respect for him, what do we do if he turns out bad? I’ve seen it happen to others; it could happen to him.”
I turned to Roth. His face had gone white. I smiled at him reassuringly. “No offense meant, kid,” I said easily, “but this is a practical business and it takes a little experience to find out just how a thing is going to work out before you do it. I know Larry means well, but I’ll have to think about it first. Supposing we talk some more about it tomorrow.”
With those words I succeeded in impressing Ronsen with my disregard for his judgment, Dave with my opinion of his inexperience, and closed the discussion.
Out of the corner of my eyes I could see the white anger on Larry’s face, but by the time I turned to him he had it under control. I smiled at him. “If you have a few minutes, Larry,” I said, “I’d like to talk to you after I get a shave.”
His strangely deep voice was back to normal. “Sure thing, Johnny,” he said. “Give me a buzz when you get back.”
I walked to the door. At the door I turned and looked back at them. They were all facing me now. Gordon, who sat behind the others, gave me the wink. I smiled at them. “See you later,” I said, shutting the door behind me.
***
Gordon was waiting for me when I got back from the barber. I felt good. It’s wonderful what a shave and a hot towel can do for you. I grinned at him.
“What’sa matter, boy?” I said. “You don’t look so good.”
He let out a string of curses.
I smiled at him easily. “I gather you don’t think much of our eminent chairman of the board.”