Consent Decree

Every spring scores of salesmen roar out of 31 U. S. cities to sell some 17,000 theatre owners a full year's supply of films (100 to 300 per theatre), sight unseen. They do not sell the films by name, since none has been completed and only a few planned. Instead they sell their studio's reputation. From the poke sticks a real pig's ear or two, a few guaranteed bristles: "three Gables, four Rooneys, two Mervyn LeRoy specials," etc. To get these, an exhibitor must buy a full schedule of unknowns, many of which will prove to be not pigs but turkeys. This is the system known as block booking and blind selling.

For years exhibitors--especially independents--have objected. In 1927 Iowa's Smith Wildman Brookhart introduced the Senate's first anti-block booking bill. Last of 17 successors--none of which passed--was the third Neely Bill. Movie lobbyists kept it at bay until 1939, when the Senate jammed it through in two days. Hollywood lobbyists quaked when Sam Rayburn, Democratic House leader, objected to Frank Capra's biting Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, blurted, "It won't do the movies any good." Nevertheless they stopped the Neely Bill in the House.

Meanwhile Trustbuster Thurman Arnold joined the fray, charged the producers with "harsh, onerous and unfair trade practices," indicted Hollywood's Big Eight (Loew's, Paramount, Warner Bros., RKO Radio, 20th-century Fox, Columbia, Universal, United Artists) under the antitrust laws. His announced objective was to divorce production and distribution, make the big producers ' give up their 2,400 theatres. Last spring he called the industry a dictatorship, insisted it must be reorganized. While independent exhibitors cheered, the Big Eight sent their lawyers to Washington.

Last week the storm passed. Five of the Big Eight signed with Arnold a consent decree effective Sept. 1, 1941 for three years. (Columbia, Universal and United Artists, who own no theatres, refused to sign.) The decree has three main provisions: 1) one-shot block booking is out; producers must sell in units of five or less; 2) blind buying will be replaced by trade showing held every few weeks in each of

31 film exchange districts; 3) arbitration boards (paid for by distributors) will sit in each of the districts to settle squabbles, police the decree.

Question in many an independent exhibitor's mind was why Arnold had proved so lenient, failed to insist on his threatened divorce. Official explanation: the divorce threat was merely a means to a lesser end--the end of block booking. The Big Five, who have ducked an expensive legal battle and still have their theatres, are not complaining. But their costs will rise for three reasons: 1) salesmen must make the rounds once every few weeks instead of annually; 2) there must be more good pictures, fewer "turkeys," or sales will flop; 3) the new arbitration setup will cost up to $500,000 a year, maybe more if too much trouble crops up.

Meanwhile exhibitors argued about the decree's probable effects, wondered whether they really wanted to sit through all Hollywood's pictures before they buy them. Happiest were smaller exhibitors, who expect to get better pictures, pick & choose with greater freedom than before.

Said Harrison's Reports, voice of the independents: "The number of those who believe the consent decree will revive business is growing larger and larger every day."

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