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Tarses’s response was to change the subject. “Is your wife still making those topical films for Whiteway?”
“You can bet she’ll make talking pictures when Mr. Lynds perfects his machine,” said Bell, and turned the spiel over to Lynds. It was up to Clyde to sell his scheme, and Bell had no doubt that he was a born salesman.
“Wait,” said Tarses “What do you want from me?”
“To start, Mr. Lynds needs a laboratory, chemists, machine shops, and moving picture mechanicians.”
Tarses glanced around the barnyard. A gesture with his cigar indicated horses, camels, and actors. “I don’t have any of that stuff.”
“You can get it in a flash,” Bell retorted. “My wife chose wisely, Mr. Tarses. You know all the moving picture folk in all the aspects of the business and manufacture. Plus, you’re a natural-born manager. Everyone in the motion picture business says that if you didn’t hate the Trust, you’d be ramrodding your own big outfit.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t get along with bosses.”
“When his machine is perfected, Mr. Lynds will need a movie manufacturer who knows the line from top to bottom to take charge. You’ll be your own boss, making the pictures and distributing.”
“But who needs Talking Pictures?”
Clyde was dumbstruck. He looked at Bell in disbelief. Hadn’t Krieg and the German Army made it painfully clear that they needed it?
“Who needs them?” shouted Clyde, suddenly red in the face and finding the words to denounce the absurd question. “The world needs them. Talking pictures will enable motion picture men to take pictures that are crackerjacks, full of snap and go, and energy and push. We’ll tell stories of original situations dear to the heart of the exchange men, who will know darned well that exhibitors will recognize great features for their audiences.”
Jay Tarses crossed his arms over his chest and stated flatly, “Talking pictures will never happen.”
“Give me one reason why.”
“I’ll give you four. One: Audiences are happy; they don’t want smart-aleck talk, they want pictures that move. Two: How will foreigners understand what the players are saying? Three: Who’s gonna pay for installing Talking Pictures machines in every theater? Exhibitors hate spending money. Four: Who would dare distribute Talking Pictures? If they’re any good, the Edison Trust will block them.”
* * *
“He’s wrong,” Marion said fiercely when Bell reported back to the Abbott town house on how they were rebuffed. “Tarses is so busy trying to stay a step ahead of the sheriff, he doesn’t understand. I’m so sorry, I thought he was smarter than that. Isaac, this is so important, we must help Clyde.”
“Who else can we approach?”
“I wonder…”
Bell waited. They were in Archie’s library. From the drawing room came the sounds of a dinner party gathering for cocktails. “Why don’t you get dressed?” said Marion. “Let me think on this.”
When Bell returned in a midnight blue dinner jacket, Marion was fired up and supremely confident. “There is an innovative director at the Biograph Company — bold and very clever.”
“But Biograph is part of the Trust.”
“He’s chafing under company rule. He wants to make his own pictures. He’s so forward-thinking — he’s invented all sorts of wonderful tricks with the camera — he might realize the potential of Clyde’s machine.”
“Let’s go see him.”
“He just took fifty people to California. He’s making a Biograph picture in some little village outside Los Angeles.”
“What’s his name?”
“Griffith. You’ve seen his pictures. D. W. Griffth.”
“Of course! He made Is This Seat Taken?”
“He’s your man.”
Isaac Bell said, “I hate to leave you so soon after our wedding, but I had better take Clyde to see him.”
Marion said, “I would love to visit my father in San Francisco and tell him all about the wedding.”
