Rivalry at Warner Bros: Hal Wallis vs Jack Warner

I haven't posted here for a while, as some of you may have noticed. The reason is that I've been having serious health issues and consequently had to spend a few months in the hospital (five weeks in the ICU even). Luckily I'm doing much better now and, while recuperating at home, I am slowly returning to my old life again. This means that I also want to get back to blogging and continue to share with you interesting stories and correspondence. So, without further ado, let's get on with this post, which involves two of Warner Brothers' key people, Jack Warner and Hal Wallis.

_____

In 1923, Hal B. Wallis started his career at Warner Bros as an assistant in the publicity department and not before long was appointed chief of publicity. Gradually Wallis involved himself in the production side of the business, to eventually become Warners' head of production in 1928 (being temporarily replaced by Darryl F. Zanuck from 1931 to 1933). Until his departure from the studio in 1944, Wallis was responsible for the production of numerous films, including classics like The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938), Dark Victory (1939), The Maltese Falcon (1941), Now, Voyager (1942) and —perhaps the classic of all classics— Casablanca (1942). It was Casablanca that was Wallis' greatest triumph, a film he regarded as his film, having even provided the movie's famous last line ("Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.").

On 2 March 1944 —on the evening of the 16th Oscar ceremony, with Casablanca being nominated in eight categories, among them Best Picture— it became abundantly clear that Warner Bros' studio head Jack Warner had different ideas about whose film Casablanca was. After director Sidney Franklin had announced Casablanca as the Best Picture winner, Wallis rose from his chair to accept the Oscar, only to find that Warner had also stood up and beaten him to the stage. Warner, as studio head, felt that Casablanca was his film and claimed the Oscar on stage, with many people in the audience shocked to see him upstage Wallis like that. The once-close relationship between the two men, which had been tense for some time, was now damaged for good. Shortly afterwards Wallis left Warner Bros to work as an independent producer, his films to be released through Paramount Pictures and later Universal.

Above: Hal Wallis signed a new contract with Warner Bros in January 1942, specifying that "A Hal Wallis Production" or "Produced by Hal Wallis" should appear after the main title of his films. With Casablanca, however, "Jack L. Warner Executive Producer" had been added to the WB logo, even though Warner had nothing to do with the film at all. Below: Jack Warner (left) and Hal Wallis. 

The following telegrams from Jack Warner to Hal Wallis clearly show that by the end of 1943 the relationship between the two had deteriorated. Warner felt threatened by Wallis and complained about not getting the credit he deserved.

November 28, 1943

...per L.A. "Dailey News" Article 23rd, I resent and won't stand for your continuing to take all credit for "Watch on Rhine", "This is the Army", "God is my Copilot", "Princess O'Rourke" and many other stories. I happened to be one who saw these stories, read plays, bought and turned them over to you. You could have at least said so, and I want to be accredited accordingly. You certainly have changed and unnecessarily so.

 

November 30, 1943

Stop giving me double talk on your publicity. This wire will serve notice on you that I will take legal action if my name has been eliminated from any article or story in any form, shape or manner as being in charge production while you were executive producer and in charge production since your new contract commenced. So there will be no misunderstanding it will be up to you to prove and see that my name is properly accredited in any publicity.

The day after Jack Warner had claimed the Best Picture Oscar for Casablanca at the 1944 Oscars, film critic Edwin Schallert wrote in his column about a rivalry between Warner and Wallis. In the following letter to Schallert, Wallis resolutely denied the rivalry, even claiming he "was glad to see Jack Warner accept the award". Of course this was not how Wallis really felt and almost forty years later, in his autobiography Starmaker, the producer described the Oscar incident, saying how Warner's action had left him "humiliated and furious" (excerpt from the book also seen below).

Edwin Schallert
Los Angeles Times 
202 W First Street
Los Angeles Calif

March 4 1944

I have been with Warner Bros for twenty years and during this time it has been customary here as elsewhere for the studio head to accept the Academy Award for the best production. Naturally I was glad to see Jack Warner accept the award this year for "Casablanca" as he did for "The Life of Emile Zola". I am happy also to have contributed my bit toward the making of that picture. Your comment in your column this morning on rivalry at Warner Bros. is totally unjustified. I would be grateful if you would correct the misleading impression created by it ...

Hal B. Wallis

Excerpt from Starmaker: The Autobiography of Hal Wallis (1980) by Hal B. Wallis and Charles Higham:

Matters came to a head that Oscar night. After it was announced that Casablanca had won the Academy Award for Best Picture of the Year, I stood up to accept when Jack ran to the stage ahead of me and took the award with a broad, flashing smile and a look of great self-satisfaction. I couldn't believe it was happening. Casablanca had been my creation; Jack had absolutely nothing to do with it. As the audience gasped, I tried to get out of the row of seats and into the aisle, but the entire Warner family sat blocking me. I had no alternative but to sit down again, humiliated and furious.  

[Eventually, Wallis did receive a Best Picture Oscar for Casablanca.]

 

Source of all correspondence: Inside Warner Bros. (1935-1951) (1985), selected and edited by Rudy Behlmer.

Paul Henreid will not play the part when he reads it

Austrian-born Paul Henreid is best remembered for his roles in two Warner Bros. pictures: as Jerry Durrance opposite Bette Davis in Irving Rapper's romantic drama Now, Voyager (1942) —on loan from RKO— and as Ingrid Bergman's husband and resistance leader Victor Laszlo in Michael Curtiz's Casablanca (1942). The latter film was not a film the actor had wanted to make, though. Having been previously cast in two leading roles (i.e. in Joan of Paris (1942) and Now, Voyager), Henreid was offered a relatively small part in Casablanca and was afraid it would affect his status as a leading man. Besides, he found the script lousy and also didn't want to play second fiddle to Humphrey Bogart. It was only after the studio assured to build up his role and to give him above-the-title billing along with Bogart and Bergman that Henreid accepted.

The actor whom Warner Bros. had initially wanted for the role of Victor Laszlo was the Dutch actor Philip Dorn but he was unavailable. Convinced that Henreid wouldn't be interested in the role, producer Hal Wallis complained to director Michael Curtiz in a memo that there was no one else available (".. aside from Philip Dorn, whom we cannot get, and Paul Henreid who I am sure will not play the part when he reads it, there is no one else that I can think of.") Screen tests with unknown European actors, including French actor Jean-Pierre Aumont, had led to nothing. So eventually a deal with Henreid was made —his co-star billing with Bogart and Bergman had clinched it— and Warners next signed him to a seven-year contract. (Henreid was reluctant to sign with Warners but was encouraged to do so by his agent Lew Wasserman.) 

While the studio began building him as a new leading man —casting him in such films as In Our Time (1944) and The Conspirators (1944)— in the end Henreid never became a major star. As his chances to be cast as a romantic lead diminished, the actor eventually turned to producing and directing. In the early 1950s, he started directing both film and television productions, including tv episodes of Alfred Hitchcock Presents, Bonanza and The Big Valley, and for the big screen Dead Ringer (1964), starring his friend and former co-star Bette Davis.

Shown below are three memo's regarding the casting of Henreid in Casablanca. First up is the memo mentioned above from Hal Wallis to Michael Curtiz, in which Wallis complained about nobody being available for the role. Next is a memo from Steve Trilling (Jack Warner's executive assistant) to Wallis regarding the deal with Henreid, followed by Wallis' short reply.  

Philip Dorn 

DATE: April 22,1942  

SUBJECT: "Casablanca" 

TO: Mike Curtiz 

FROM: Hal Wallis

Dear Mike: 

I have been going over with Trilling the possibilities for the part of  "Laszlo" and, aside from Philip Dorn, whom we cannot get, and Paul Henreid who I am sure will not play the part when he reads it, there is no one else that I can think of. I think you should satisfy yourself on this point; that is, that there is no one available, and then begin to adjust yourself to the thought that we might have to use someone of the type of Dean Jagger, Ian Hunter or Herbert Marshall, or someone of this type without an accent. 

I am as anxious as you are to have a type like Philip Dorn in the part, but if there is no one available there is just nothing that we can do about it. 

Hal Wallis

__________

DATE: May 1, 1942

TO: Hal Wallis

FROM: Steve Trilling

RE: Paul Henreid for Casablanca

Discussed making a separate picture deal with his agent first before talking to Henreid. As you know, we have been trying to work out a deal to take over his RKO contract —and one of the deterrents was Henreid's reluctance to assign himself here exclusively— and then possibly be relegated to small parts. In this respect, you are aware by this time, he is a bit of a ham —and until the negotiations for the RKO deal are behind us— which should be in the next few days— I think we should let this separate picture deal ride...

An obstacle we encountered in consummating the original deal was the billing situation —and after great persuasion, we got him to accept a special billing clause for the first two pictures — thereafter, he was to be starred or co-starred and I think if he gets assurance of co-star billing with Bogart and Bergman, it would clinch the matter. This might not be such a bad idea if we really are attempting to build him.

Steve Trilling

__________

 

DATE: May 1, 1942

SUBJECT: "Casablanca"

TO: Steve Trilling

FROM: Hal Wallis

If we can get Henreid for Casablanca, we will give him co-star billing with Bogart and Bergman.

Hal Wallis

 

Source: Inside Warner Bros. (1935-1951) (1985), selected and edited by Rudy Behlmer. 

Humphrey Bogart and Paul Henreid play a game of chess on the set of Casablanca, while Hal Wallis (center) and Michael Curtiz (right) look on. (Don't know who the other guy next to Wallis is.)

Bogie, Chess & Casablanca

Humphrey Bogart learned how to play chess from his father and eventually became an avid and also expert player. In the early Depression years, he played chess for money in New York City parks, Times Square and Coney Island. Playing for 50 cents a game, he won more games than he lost. More than an average chess enthusiast, Bogart became director of the United States Chess Federation and was active in the California State Chess Association in the 1940s. In 1955, he drew against Grandmaster Samuel Reshevsky in a 70-board simultaneous exhibition. Chess was one of the main interests in Bogart's life. He played almost daily, and during movie breaks he was often seen bent over a chess board playing fellow actors or crew members (his wife Lauren Bacall was a chess enthusiast as well).

It was Bogart who wanted Rick Blaine, his character in Michael Curtiz' famous classic Casablanca (1942), to be a chess player. And so, in the opening scene when Rick is introduced to the viewer, he is shown playing a solitary game of chess. Rick is later joined by Ugarte (Peter Lorre), and we see him making chess moves while he listens to Ugarte talk about the German couriers and the transit letters. The game set up on the board was a real game that Bogart was playing by mail against Irving Kovner, brother of a Warner Bros.' employee. The two men had started the chess game in January 1942, corresponding by postcards and letters to indicate their moves. Bogart eventually sent Kovner a total of 17 postcards and two letters — three of his cards are shown below. 

Filming of Casablanca started on 25 May 1942 and officially wrapped a few months later, on 3 August. The first postcard from Bogart that is shown was written during production and is postmarked 8 June 1942. The chess moves that Bogart executes in the scene with Lorre are mentioned in this card. Bogart's two other cards are from a much later date when filming had already wrapped, postmarked resp. 17 November and 7 December 1942. Apparently the game went on and on... 

(Click here to watch the chess scene from Casablanca.)

Source: bonhams 

Transcript:

Dear Irving Kovner 

You're too hot-headed-- calm down! 

My 6 move a bad one- think should have been BxB. 

Now I'm in a jam.

However

8 knt- knt 5-- Castle Kings side 9?

H. Bogart

Via: iCollector.com (here and here)

Transcript:

Dear Irving

14-------Kt (Kt)-B3

15 Kt - K2- P- Q5

16?

Regards

H Bogart

Transcript:

Dear Irving

14- - - - - P- Q5

15 Knt- B4- - - P- Q6

16?

If I see [??]

you bet I will

Regards 

H Bogart

Bogie and Paul Henreid playing chess on the set of "Casablanca" with Claude Rains looking on. Henreid was reportedly the better player.

 Joan Bennett and Bogie taking a break during the shooting of "We're no Angels" (1955). 

Bogie visits Lauren Bacall on the set of "Confidential Agent" (1945) where he plays her co-star Charles Boyer. The man sitting next to Bacall is chessmaster Herman Steiner who also taught Bogie. Steiner formed a chess club in the 1940s, later known as the Hollywood Chess Group.

Bogie plays chess with his fourth wife Lauren Bacall who was also an excellent player. There's a famous chess game between the two from 1951 that you can follow in an online chart here. 

Professionally, we were brothers long before you were

In 1945, Warner Brothers heard about the Marx Brothers' plans to make a film called A Night in Casablanca which was to be a parody of their classic Casablanca (1942). To make sure that this parody (complete with a lead character named 'Humphrey Bogus') was not violating Warners' rights, the studio's legal department got in touch with the Marx Brothers asking for information on their upcoming film. The inquiry from Warners set Groucho Marx thinking, and he soon came up with a clever plan for a publicity stunt. While Warners had simply inquired about the film's storyline, Groucho claimed that the studio had threatened to sue the Marx Brothers for using the word 'Casablanca' in their film title. The correspondence that ensued between Groucho and the studio is now legendary (I must say I'd never heard of it before) and gave Groucho the free publicity he wanted.

Groucho's first letter to Warner Brothers, which was his response to a "long, ominous legal document" the studio had never written, is shown below (or rather an early draft). The letter is simply hilarious and without a doubt the funniest I have posted so far. Also shown below are excerpts from Groucho's two subsequent letters (in transcript only) which he had sent after the studio kept insisting on knowing the details of the story. As Groucho's answers were getting more bizarre, Warners finally gave up and Groucho never heard from their legal department again. In the end, director Archie Mayo decided not to turn A Night in Casablanca (1946) into a parody of Casablanca, but rather into a parody of the genre.

Images via: letters of note
(original source: library of congress; the letter was donated to the library by Groucho Marx himself)

Transcript:

Dear Warner Brothers:

Apparently there is more than one way of conquering a city and holding it as your own. For example, up to the time that we contemplated making a picture, I had no idea that the City of Casablanca belonged to Warner Brothers.

However, it was only a few days after our announcement appeared that we received a long, ominous legal document, warning us not to use the name "Casablanca".

It seems that in 1471, Ferdinand Balboa Warner, the great-great grandfather of Harry and Jack, while looking for a short cut to the city of Burbank, had stumbled on the shores of Africa and, raising his alpenstock, which he later turned in for a hundred shares of the common, he named it Casablanca.

I just can't understand your attitude. Even if they plan on re-releasing the picture, I am sure that the average movie fan could learn to distinguish between Ingrid Bergman and Harpo. I don't know if I could, but I certainly would like to try.

You claim you own Casablanca and that no one else can use that name without their permission. What about Warner Brothers-- do you own that too? You probably have the right to use the name Warner, but what about Brothers? Professionally, we were brothers long before you were. When Vitaphone was still a gleam in the inventor's eye, we were touring the sticks as the Marx Brothers and even before us, there had been other brothers-- the Smith Brothers; the Brothers Karamazoff; Dan Brouthers, an outfielder with Detroit, and "Brother, can you spare a dime? " This was originally "Brothers, can you spare a dime?" but this was spreading a dime pretty thin so they threw out one brother, gave all the money to the other brother and whittled it down to "Brother, can you spare a dime?"

The younger Warner Brother calls himself Jack. Does he claim that, too? It's not an original name-- it was used long before he was born. Offhand, I can think of two Jacks-- there was Jack of "Jack and the Beanstalk" , and Jack, the Ripper, who cut quite a figure in his day. As for Harry, the older brother, he probably signs his checks, sure in the belief that he is the first Harry of all time and that all other Harrys are impostors. Offhand, I can think of two Harrys that preceded him. There was Lighthorse Harry of Revolutionary fame and a Harry Applebaum who lived on the corner of Ninety-third street and Lexington Avenue. Applebaum wasn't very well known-- I've almost forgotten what he looked like-- the last I heard of him, he was selling neckties at Weber and Heilbroner; but I'll never forget his mother, she made the best apple strudle in Yorkville.

We now come to the Burbank studio. This is what the Warner Brothers call their place. Old man Burbank is gone. Perhaps you remember him-- he was a great man in a garden, he was the wizard who crossed all those fruits and vegetables until he had the poor plants in such a confused and nervous state, that they never were sure whether they were supposed to come in on a meat platter or the dessert dish.

This is just conjecture, of course, but, who knows-- perhaps Burbank survivors aren't too happy over the fact that a plant that grinds out pictures settled in their town, appropriated Burbank's name and uses it as a front for their films.

It is even possible that the Burbank family is prouder of the potato produced by the old man than they are of the fact that from this town emerged "Casablanca" or even "Gold Diggers of 1931". 

This all seems to add up to a pretty bitter tirade but I don't mean it to. I love Warners-- some of my best friends are Warner Brothers. It is even possible that I am doing them an injustice and that they themselves know nothing at all about this dog-in-the-Wanger attitude. It wouldn't surprise me at all to discover that the heads of Warners' legal department know nothing about this dispute for I am acquainted with many of them and they are fine fellows with curly black hair, double-breasted suits and a love of their fellow man that out-Saroyans "Dr. Gillespie". I have a hunch that this attempt to prevent us from using the title is the scheme of some ferret-faced shyster serving an apprenticeship in their legal department. I know the type-- hot out of law school, hungry for success and too ambitious to follow the natural laws of promotion, this bar sinister probably needled Warners' attorneys, most of whom are fine fellows with curly black hair, double-breasted suits, etc., in attempting to enjoin us.

Well, he won't get away with it! We'll fight him to the highest court! No pasty-faced legal adventurer is going to cause bad blood between the Warners and the Marxes. We are all brothers under the skin and we'll remain friends till the last reel of "A Night in Casablanca" goes tumbling over the spool.

Jack Warner (left) and Harry Warner, the oldest of the four Warner Brothers

Below you'll find part of Groucho's second and third letter to Warner Brothers, who were still anxious to know what the film was really about.

Dear Warners:

There isn’t much I can tell you about the story. In it I play a Doctor of Divinity who ministers to the natives and, as a sideline, hawks can openers and pea jackets to the savages along the gold Coast of Africa.

When I first meet Chico, he is working in a saloon, selling sponges to barflies who are unable to carry their liquor. Harpo is an Arabian caddie who lives in a small Grecian urn on the outskirts of the city.

______

Dear Brothers:

Since I last wrote you, I regret to say there have been some changes in the plot of our new picture, “A Night in Casablanca.” In the new version I play Bordello, the sweetheart of Humphrey Bogart. Harpo and Chico are itinerant rug peddlers who are weary of laying rugs and enter a monastery just for a lark. This is a good joke on them, as there hasn’t been a lark in the place for fifteen years.

[via: all movie talk] 

The beginning of a beautiful friendship

Several writers contributed to the script of Michael Curtiz's famous classic Casablanca (1942). The main writers were the twins Julius and Philip Epstein who were responsible for most of the film's dialogue and wit, and Howard Koch who provided the melodramatic and political elements. Casey Robinson (uncredited) was hired for three weeks to do rewrites, mainly contributing to the love story between Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman; a lot of dialogue was also taken directly from the original play Everybody comes to Rick's by Murray Burnett and Joan Alison. None of these writers, however, came up with the famous last line of the film, "Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship". The line was supplied by producer Hal Wallis and was chosen over three other lines: 1)"Louis, I begin to see a reason for your sudden attack of patriotism. While you defend your country, you also protect your investment." 2) "If you ever die a hero's death, Heaven protect the angels!" and 3) "Louis, I might have known you'd mix your patriotism with a little larceny." 

In the following memo to editor Owen Marks, dated 7 August 1942, Hal Wallis presents his last two choices for the film's final line (option number 3 (above), which Wallis also wrote, and the line finally chosen). And as filming had already finished, Wallis asks Marks to bring Bogart in to shoot the lines.

Via: slackervision

Transcript:

TO MR. OWEN MARKS                            

  

FROM MR. WALLIS

DATE August 7, 1942

SUBJECT "CASABLANCA"

Attached is copy of the new narration for the opening of the picture.

There are also to be two wild lines made by Bogart. Mike is trying to get Bogart today, but if he does not succeed, will you get Bogart in within the next couple of days.

The two lines to be shot with Bogart, in the event that Mike does not get them, are:

RICK: Luis, I might have known you'd mix your patriotism with a little larceny.

(Alternate line)

RICK: Luis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Also, I think you had better have the narration made up by some stock actor until I can select the actor who will do it for the picture.

HAL WALLIS

*Note: The actor whom Wallis eventually picked to do the opening narration was Lou Marcelle (uncredited). And Mike is of course director Michael Curtiz.

Left photo: Hal Wallis. Right: Humphrey Bogart and Claude Rains in the final scene of "Casablanca".

Bogart is ideal for it

George Raft was one of the leading male stars at Warner Bros. before Humphrey Bogart entered the picture. When offered the lead roles in High Sierra (1941) and The Maltese Falcon (1941) Raft, however, made some very poor choices. He rejected the roles, both of which went to Bogart. Consequently, Bogie became a star and Raft's career started to decline. One of the stories surrounding Raft is that he also turned down the male lead in Casablanca (1943). This story, however, is a myth. Warner Bros' studio executive Jack Warner did have Raft in mind for the role of Rick Blaine (like he stated in a memo to producer Hal B. Wallis dated 2 April 1942: "What do you think of using Raft in Casablanca? He knows we are going to make this and is starting a campaign for it"), but Wallis had someone else in mind for the role. And, as Casablanca was being produced independently by Wallis under the Warner Bros' logo, he was free to choose his leading man and didn't have to follow Warner's suggestion. Thus, on 13 April 1942, Hal Wallis (clearly annoyed with Raft) sent the following memo to Jack Warner.

Source: the humphrey bogart estate (facebook page)

Transcript:

INTER-OFFICE COMMUNICATION

TO MR. WARNER                                           

FROM MR. WALLIS

DATE  April 3, 1942                                    

SUBJECT "CASABLANCA"

Dear Jack:

I have thought over very carefully the matter of George Raft in "CASABLANCA", and I have discussed this with Mike, and we both feel he should not be in this picture. Bogart is ideal for it, and it is being written for him, and I think we should forget Raft for this property.

Incidentally, he hasn't done a picture here since I was a little boy, and I don't think he should be able to put his fingers on just what he wants to do when he wants to do it.

HAL WALLIS

*Note:  Mike whom Wallis mentions in his memo is director Michael Curtiz.

left photo: Hal Wallis with Ingrid Bergman on the set of "Casablanca"; right: studio chief Jack Warner