Billy Wilder: Something Old, Something Cool

Screenwriter-director, Billy Wilder with Marilyn Monroe.

No one knows this, but I once checked out two library books and forgot to take them back. The books were screenplays for two films from 1950: "All About Eve", and "Sunset Boulevard". I remember walking along the stacks in the Fine Arts Department of the Cleveland Public Library to find them. Back in those days, there was only the main building and you had to take the stairs up to the Fine Arts Department. Michel Hazanavicius won the Oscar for Best Director, for the film, "The Artist". The Hollywood Reporter post-Oscar wrap-up included the following: "Hazanavicius thanked the late, multi-Oscar winner Billy Wilder three times, presumably for helping provide the inspiration for revisiting the days of silent cinema, even if Wilder never directed a silent film." Billy Wilder just happens to be another of those writers whose work I adore. When I read Maurice Zolotow's "Billy Wilder in Hollywood", I knew I had come across a kindred spirit. Wilder had worked as a reporter in Vienna--what could be more heavenly? He then moved to Germany where he worked for a larger newspaper until Adolph Hitler came to power in 1933. Soon, he arrived in Hollywood. He spoke no English. His partnership with writing partner Charles Brackett resulted in some of cinema's finest films--comedies like "Ninotchka"  starring Greta Garbo, and later, Wilder would write and direct one of my favorite dark films, "Lost Weekend". When my Academy Awards volume for 1950 arrived I was surprised to learn that Billy Wilder's "Sunset Boulevard" (#12 on the American Film Institute's Top 100 Films) had won Best Picture over Joseph Mankiewicz's, "All About Eve". Great writers pen classic scripts.

Writing partners, Charles Brackett (l) and Billy Wilder (r) with "Sunset Boulevard" star, Gloria Swanson.

One Saturday afternoon, I rode the St. Clair bus downtown to visit my library. I remember checking out many scripts and biographies. Carrying a bag of books was still cool at that point in my life. I don't remember returning the books. I do recall finding the two screenplays behind my bed one day. I had no idea how long they had been back there. I was shocked that I hadn't gotten a notice from the library. I didn't know what to do. I was afraid that they would make me pay for the books and I knew didn't have the money. One day I happened to be looking through my books when I discovered the scripts--years had passed. Of course, I spent the next week devouring the words and as luck, no fate would have it, it was spring and TCM was airing the classic Best Picture winners and nominees. I watched both films thinking how well Wilder's work had stood up over time. Later in the week, "Lost Weekend", and "Double Indemnity" both aired. 

I should mention that Wilder's cache grew exponentially when journalist-turned-screenwriter and director, Cameron Crowe spent a year talking to the director. The resulting "Conversations with Wilder" is a classic. Two of my writing heroes (reporters-turned-screenwriters) together in one volume. Crowe, another kindred spirit got it--Wilder was the man. After last Sunday's Academy Awards, I think we all know that everything old is cool again, at least where Billy Wilder is concerned.

One of my favorite Wilder quotes is: "I was not a guy writing deep-dish revelations. If people see a picture of mine and then sit down and talk about it for 15 minutes, that is a very fine reward, I think." 

The King of The Deal, Super Agent Swifty Lazar

Chuck Pick at Spago's with Irving "Swifty" Lazar, super agent.

The 84th Annual Academy Awards air Sunday, February 26th on ABC. I am a writer, so when Oscar time arrives, I find myself filled with anticipation. I actually find that the build-up to the Academy Awards is maddening--I want to watch, I don't want to watch.

I want to be in that audience. I can't wait for that category--Best Original Screenplay--to be announced. Of course I want to win. In order to get my original screenplay produced, I need an agent--a super-agent. When I was a kid, besides reading books, I spent the remainder of my time in a movie theater. I had figured out that writers wrote movies. And writers need agents to represent their work. Irving "Swifty" Lazar was featured in one of my Academy Award books. Decades later I would read Michael Korda's great piece, "The King of The Deal", which appeared in the New Yorker in March of 1993. More recently, Lazar's appearance on screen in "Frost/Nixon" reminded me what a player he was--Swifty represented ex-President Richard M. Nixon. Korda is best remembered as an editor-in-Chief at Simon & Schuster.

Korda paints a picture of an agent, a short, perhaps foppish man with gigantic glasses who wielded power whether he was on the east or west coast. Korda writes, "At “21,” I had only to mention Lazar’s name to be treated like royalty. I was swept to a red-checked table downstairs, opposite the bar, and given a bowl of celery and olives on ice and a basket of rolls." Korda in his reportage, reveals the truth about this super-agent--Lazar never considered himself an agent at all. He saw himself as a deal-maker. Hollywood stars had an agent and Swifty Lazar to make deals for them. With big name authors, Lazar would offer them up to rival publishing houses whether he actually represented the writer or not. The story about Lazar offering up Truman Capote without his permission is a classic:

“Truman Capote,” Lazar said, way back at the beginning of our relationship. “Wanna do a deal with him?” At the time, Capote was high on the best-seller lists, and was one of the bright stars at Random House, while I was an unknown junior editor at a house not then famous for fiction. It seemed to me unlikely that Capote would want to leave Random House, or that Random House would let him go, and I said so. “I can see you don’t have the guts for this kind of thing, sonny,” Lazar sniffed—he always called me “sonny” when he was pissed off—and he hung up, no doubt to offer Capote elsewhere. (Capote was still a Random House author when he died.)

But back to the Hollywood angle. As a child, my parents indulged my love of Hollywood by gifting me a subscription to the Academy Award club. Each month a new volume arrived in an envelope and inside was a look at the awards by year. There were in-depth articles on the Best Picture winner, the Best Actress winner, etc. I was of course struck with the fact that there was a category for writers.  It was at this point in my life that I began to learn the names of screenwriters.

I learned about the Writer's Guild of America. I discovered that there was one on each coast, but it was the one on the west coast which interested me the most. There was a list printed with some of the best film scripts ever written. Lazar not only represented some of the top writers, he also made deals for screenwriters, directors, actors, and  producers whose work appeared on that list. I wanted my work on a list like that and I certainly wanted Lazar for an agent. However, his real claim to fame came Academy Award night time, when the A-list stars -- many of them his clients -- attended his Oscar party held at Wolfgang Puck's Spago's restaurant. 

When Lazar died, Hollywood lost not only an iconic deal maker, it lost one of its most glamorous parties. I lost an opportunity to be represented by one of the great deal-makers. I love the Oscars.

The stars gather at Spago's. (At left, Lazar and his trademark glasses.)