I was usually able to get candid comments from “old Hollywood” people because I didn’t ask the typical questions about favorite co-stars, celebrity perks, or favorite roles. I frequently shared my disdain for the “suits” in my business who tried to interfere with my work. This attitude, along with being a minority, got me some sympathetic responses from people who normally just gave standard sound bites. It also helped that I was a movie “maven,” more knowledgable than many so-called ‘entertainment reporters’ famous for fluff questions.
The topic of Jack Warner came up this morning. Marilyn is reading his biography, a book called “We’ll Always Have Casablanca: The Legend and Afterlife of Hollywood’s Most Beloved Film” by Noah Isenberg. Do NOT buy the book, by the way. It’s written well — and completely wrong about pretty much everything.
Marilyn said the author apparently believes that Jack Warner was a man with a conscience who claimed to go the “extra mile,” slipping anti-Nazi stuff into Warner Brothers films in the late 1930s and early 1940s when it was “dangerous” to speak out against the Nazis.
Much of this country’s population was essentially isolationist. Businessmen didn’t want to rock the boat, including many Hollywood moguls concerned more about their overseas markets, especially Germany.
As always, it was all about the money.
So, here’s a list of a couple of Hollywood legends from Tinseltown’s golden years and their takes on Jack Warner and his “anti-Nazi” stance.
Probably Warner Brothers’ most bankable star from 1930 to 1950. In a 1971 conversation with James Cagney (an informal afternoon chat on Martha’s Vineyard), the star gave full credit to Warner Brothers for giving him his breakthrough roles. Cagney got his “Public Enemy” role when the director switched Cagney’s supporting role with the star, favoring Cagney’s energy. Despite his “gangster” popularity, Cagney had to fight the Warners for diversity in roles.
In Hollywood back then it was not uncommon for big studios to keep a tight rein on their stars.
Cagney was still doing gangster films in 1939 as the Nazis flexed their muscles. In Hollywood, big and small studios were nervous about doing films that might jeopardize their lucrative overseas market. The inside word was: “Don’t antagonize the Nazis in your films.” Germany was a large market for American films.
There was a film waiting to be ‘greenlighted called “Confessions of a Nazi Spy” at Warner Brothers. The director, European expatriate Anatole Litvak, was eager to get started. The project sat for months. The behind-the-scenes arguments between the Brothers Warner could be heard throughout Hollywood. They were the butt of jokes, concern. and anxiety by other studios who wanted to tackle Nazi Germany on film. Someone had to be the first to do it.
Sam and Harry Warner were decidedly in favor of taking it to Adolph Hitler. They held the keys to the studio’s financial and legal coffers. Jack was the smiling front in Hollywood, dealing with actors, directors, and writers. He was the public face. With his big, broad smile, pearly whites who some people likened to those of a great white shark, Jack was regularly bashed by actors and actresses as gross, a sexual predator, a philanderer, and a fraud — which was typical stuff for Hollywood suits.
When “Confessions of a Nazi Spy” came across his desk, Jack Warner blanched and balked. He didn’t want to touch it. The first-generation immigrant mogul didn’t want to risk losing his studio and power to Nazi pressure. His brothers disagreed saying it was their duty to do the film.
Jack disagreed until a lackey suggested they could do it as a gangster film with underworld bad guys subbing for Nazis. His brothers refused to do it that way. Jack started leaning on his stable of stars — James Cagney, George Raft, Paul Muni, Edward G. Robinson and others. They surely could pull off the film as a Tommy-gun melodrama.
No one wanted to do that film.
Jack Warner fumed! Meanwhile, Edward G. Robinson, widely admired in Hollywood as a Rennaissance Man of courage way beyond his screen image, lobbied for the film as an out and out warning against Nazism. He even put up some of his personal earnings to back the script while agreeing to take on the lead role as a Federal Agent ferreting out Nazi spies in the U.S.
Jack Warner winced. Other prominent actors including George Sanders and Paul Lukas, encouraged by Robinson, agreed to join the film, playing unsympathetic Nazi spy roles. They didn’t care if it jeopardized their careers. If “Eddie G.” was doing it, that was good enough for them.
Over Jack Warners’ private arguments, “Confessions of a Nazi Spy” was made in 1939. Surprising many insiders, it was a box-office success and nominated for several Oscars. During the Oscar Ceremony, Jack Warner leapt past the winner to embrace the award and give a big patriotic speech about the courage of fighting Nazis at a dire historic time.
Warner talked humbly about ‘tuning up’ the script to bash the Nazis without endangering the film. Insiders just smiled. The cast and crew of the film fumed silently. Thirty years later, James Cagney recalled Jack Warner’s antics. Cagney had a strange smile on his face as he talked about Jack Warner.
“The man had chutzpah, I’ll give him that. He certainly gave me my chance. But, young fella, he was the epitome of a two-faced, hypocritical ‘suit’. You think you have worked for bad guys. Give yourself a few more years.
“Jack Warner took credit for everything he rejected. He loved getting awards. I remember attending award ceremonies. I had to do them. Part of my job. The VFW, DAR, Sons Of American Freedom. You name the award ceremony and Jack Warner was there, big teeth and phony smile, to accept the honor.
“He was always ‘umble. Young fella, I had to hold my stomach and breath around the guy. He loved garlic bread and used to sit close to me. I was his pet or so he thought. Jack Warner a hero and anti-Nazi fighter? No! He was even a bigger problem when we did “Yankee Doodle Dandy”. He didn’t want any strong anti-Nazi bias in the film. He said it was just a song and dance film, nothing more.
“George M. Cohan was around one day and wanted to deck smilin’ Jack. Sorry to drift on about Jack Warner but even in my so call mellow years, the man still angers me.”
That’s an unfiltered remembrance of my conversation with James Cagney. It was a wide-ranging talk that included his not so fond memories of Jack Warner — years after his final film for the studio.
In 6 or 7 meetings, ranging over a similar number of years, Charlton “Call me Chuck” Heston gave me wide-ranging inside looks at Hollywood. Once he talked about Edward G. Robinson who was one of “Chuck’s” heroes. They made “Soylent Green” together which turned out to be Robinson’s last film. He died a short time after the film was completed.
Heston talked warmly about Robinson and his gentle “man of the world” presence. Heston volunteered the information about “Confessions of a Nazi Spy” and Edward G. Robinson’s pivotal part in getting the movie made with its strong anti-Nazi message.
Heston relayed stories Robinson shared with him about Jack Warner. They weren’t flattering. Heston had a few encounters with Warner as a young and rising Hollywood star.
I gave him a look and Heston just smiled, shaking his head. No words needed.
She was a contract player at Warners in the 1930s. She usually played ditzy friends of lead actresses like Bette Davis, Miriam Hopkins, Olivia DeHavilland, Barbara Stanwyck, and other stars. Often Donnelly was paired with Eve Arden as a comedy foil in melodramas and romantic comedies.
Donnelly was on the Warners lot when “Confessions of A Nazi Spy” was in production. She remembered, in a 1970 interview, how Jack Warner used to interrupt scenes being shot. This is a big NO-NO unless you held the money for the film. Warner, Donnelly recalled, was boorish and intimidating. He tried to bully writers on the “Confessions” film, demanding they change their scripts and then feigning ignorance when asked by Anatole Litvak, the director if it was true. Warner even tried to get the writers fired for the controversy he created.
Ruth Donnelly smiled when I asked what she would say to Jack Warner in 1970.