The Brother Act Retires

The deal rocked Hollywood to its plaster-of-Paris foundations. Harry Warner, speaking for himself and his brothers, Al and Jack, announced that they were arranging to sell their control of Warner Bros. Pictures to a syndicate headed by San Francisco's millionaire Real Estate Operator Louis R. Lurie.* The syndicate agreed to pay the brothers about $25 million for the Warner family's 24% controlling stock interest in the $161 million film and theatrical empire--once the biggest film company in the U.S.

Hollywood was stunned, less by the size of the deal, than by the fact that it marked the first mass abdication of a Hollywood dynasty in the face of many troubles now besetting moviemakers--television, falling box-office receipts, soaring costs. The Warners, along with other moviemen, have even more troubles. Under an antitrust decree they must divorce their movie-making from their theater operations. Faced by all this, the Warner brothers were getting out while the getting was good.

But Louis Lurie thinks he can turn the brothers' troubles into opportunities. He likes the deal chiefly because of the Warners' 436 theaters, many of them on choice big-city corner lots, which he thinks he can sell off at a fat profit. Lurie, who has previously tried his hand at moviemaking with Sol Lesser, says the syndicate will keep movie production rolling on the Warner Bros, lot, also investigate the possibility of making films for TV. The whole deal, said Lurie, was so easy that it was set up by telephone (it must still be approved by SEC and the Justice Department). Said he: "It was simpler than getting into the Stork Club."

The Great Train Robbery. This simple arrangement spells an end to a brother act that began in 1903, when 16-year-old Sam Warner paid $150 for a movie projector and a print of The Great Train Robbery. The brothers made so much money exhibiting the film that in two years they were able to buy a vacant store in New Castle, Pa., to use as a nickelodeon. Brother Jack sang songs while Sam ran the projection machine; Al drummed up publicity; Harry was the booking agent.

The Warners scored such a box-office smash that they were able to make a film of their own in 1912, a three-reeler titled Perils of the Plains. "Just like The Covered Wagon," says Harry, "except we used three wagons and they used 300." By making $3 do the work of $300, the brothers gradually expanded moviemaking, struck it rich with such stars as John Barrymore (The Sea Beast, Beau Brummel) and Rin-Tin-Tin.

The Talkies. With Al Jolson in The Jazz Singer, the brothers introduced feature-length sound movies with talking in 1927, and revolutionized the industry. The revolution was profitable: in 1929, they earned $14.5 million after taxes. By that time Sam Warner had died, and President Harry ploughed the profits back into a string of theaters. The Warners owned 500 theaters, had assets of $230 million when the Depression hit, plunged them into a debt of $113 million. They ruthlessly sliced salaries in half, cut all other expenses just as deeply. Said Harry: "A picture is just an expensive dream. It's just as easy to dream for $700,000 as for $1,500,000." Production Boss Jack Warner picked topical stories out of the headlines, produced such smash hits as Public Enemy and Little Caesar. He tackled many ticklish social issues which other studios avoided, such as bad penal systems (I Am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang), lynching (They Won't Forget), labor conditions (Black Fury). With Disraeli, the Warners started a cycle of film biographies; with 42nd Street, set the style for modern musicals.

But as the brothers grew older, they lost their pioneering zeal and much of their topical touch, were usually satisfied to dress up old ideas rather than try new ones. Now, Harry, 69, and Al, 68, plan to get out of the business altogether. Only Jack, 59, will remain with the company until the new owners find another production boss. A likely successor is Lurie's friend Louis B. Mayer, whose feud with Dore Schary at M-G-M may make him glad to leave when his contract runs out on Sept. 1. Hollywooders think that if Mayer goes in, he may eventually buy Warner's production lot. Lurie hasn't made a deal with Mayer yet, but significantly asks: "Who wouldn't want Louis Mayer around?"

* Among those in the syndicate with Lurie, who will put up at least $5,000,000 of his own: California's Transamerica Corp. ($5,000,000), Broadway Producer Lee Shubert, Independent Film Producer Sol Lesser, who makes the Tarzan movies, Wall Street Brokers Charles Allen Jr. and Samuel Ungerleider, Watchman Arde Bulova ($1,000,000 each).

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.