Von Sternberg

A Genuine Genius

A Genuine Genius I don’t think Josef von Sternberg is working anywhere. I think he’s a genuine genius again. —Walter Winchell, 1926 WITH UNITED ARTISTS BACKING it, The Salvation Hunters looked like the salvation of everyone involved. Georgia Hale became Chaplin’s mistress, then his leading lady in The Gold Rush. George Arthur won some acting roles, including in a couple of von Sternberg films, and he later became a successful producer of short features, but von Sternberg never mentioned him in interviews. As he would do with increasing frequency, he wrote a collaborator out of his life. The director himself was feted. The New Yorker took pleasure in writing up his exploits as a case of a smart East Coast Jew putting one over on dumb West Coast goyim. “Joseph Sternberg drifted from the East Side, via Broadway, to Hollywood, a well-frayed shoestring pinned carefully in an inner pocket. He returns Josef von Sternberg, the ‘von’ having blossomed under the beneficence of the Californian sun. Out of experiences with butterfly movie companies, he wrought The Salvation Hunters, one of the most discussed of the current reticent dramas. Forty-seven hundred dollars was Mr. von Sternberg’s producing capital, garnered in reluctant fives, tens and twenties by a native salesmanship which would see nothing incongruous in attempting to peddle grand pianos from a pushcart.”1 47 Von Sternberg 48 Not to be outdone by Chaplin, Pickford signed von Sternberg to a two-film contract. As part of the publicity buildup, he was photographed chatting with baseball star “Babe” Ruth (one struggles to imagine on what topic) and strolling on the lawns of “Pickfair” with Doug and Mary. “I believe him to have those qualities of freshness and originality for which we have long been seeking,” trilled Pickford. “He is a master technician and has a sense of drama possessed by few.”2 But her offer was a poisoned chalice. Habitually, she vacillated between aspiring to be considered a serious actress and clinging to her position as “America’s Sweetheart.” Von Sternberg, after a research visit to Pennsylvania, submitted the outline of another von Stroheim–influenced melodrama called Backwash, in which Pickford would play a blind girl living in the squalor of industrial Pittsburgh. Most of the film would be subjective camera, with the action, including a cameo for Chaplin, taking place in her mind. As in The Salvation Hunters, he foresaw images of poverty, dirt, and urban ugliness. After reading it, Pickford hurriedly backpedaled, according to von Sternberg. “My star-to-be,” he wrote acidly, “asked me to wait ten weeks, to accustom herself to the idea while she made a ‘normal’ film with a ‘normal’ director”—in this case, Marshall Neilan. After that, their contract lapsed by mutual consent. Subsequently, Pickford professed to find him ridiculous. “He proved to be a complete boiled egg,” she scoffed. “The business of ‘von’ Sternberg, and carrying a cane, and that little moustache! I’m so glad I didn’t do the film.” Her rejection, however, is suspect. Playing a blind girl would have been nothing new for her. She had already done so in A Good Little Devil, one of her earliest stage successes. Von Sternberg also told Sergei Eisenstein that she took Backwash sufficiently seriously to prepare for the role by spending time in a home for the blind, studying their behavior. It’s more likely she pulled out once The Salvation Hunters proved to be a flop. It played for less than a week in New York and only sporadically elsewhere, losing most of the Pickford-Fairbanks investment. She didn’t mind displaying her acting skills in an atypical role, but only if it was also a commercial success. The Salvation Hunters put its director on the map, however, and the big studios made offers, if only to ensure that competitors didn’t A Genuine Genius 49 grab a potential moneymaker. B. P. Schulberg, West Coast production manager of Famous Players–Lasky (soon to be renamed Paramount Publix) was interested, but von Sternberg elected to sign an eight-film contract with MGM. The decision was ill-advised. The richest of the big companies, MGM was also the most rigid, with a factory ethic to which every employee was subordinated. To von Sternberg, however, one fact counted more than any other: Erich von Stroheim was on its payroll, which made the offer...