• U.S.

HOLLYWOOD: Unhappy People–with Spurs

3 minute read
TIME

Normally the cowpokes on Warner Bros.’ crowded TV range pursue their separate villains, but last week they all ganged up on a common enemy—Warner Bros. Encouraged by a withering denunciation of the studio by the Screen Actors Guild, the cowpokes drew a bead on 1) highhanded Studio Boss Jack L. Warner, who spends much of his time commuting between Las Vegas and the Riviera; and 2) William T. Orr, Warner’s son-in-law and the studio’s hard-driving TV chief. The cowboys’ beef: the usual Warner Bros, contract, which binds screen hopefuls to the studio for seven years at a predetermined salary, often prevents them from reaping the customary rewards of stardom, e.g., sharing in “residual” rights from rerun TV shows. If the actors make personal appearances, Warners pockets 90% to 100% of their earnings. The studio may cancel the contract at will; the actor has no option to cancel or renew.

Admitting that there may have been irregularities, TV Boss Bill Orr argued: “Instead of being unhappy, these people should be thankful . . . Look and see what some of these unhappy people were doing before they came to Warner Bros.” But the actors were not buying that. Most echoed Maverick’s James Garner, who makes a reported $1,750 a week: “I feel like a slab of meat hanging there; every once in a while they cut off a piece.”

Warners’ contract is nicely geared to the slow-moving needs of the movies, the cowboys insist, but not to the hustle of TV. “In movies,” says Garner, who blames his ulcer on life with Warners, “an actor is groomed slowly through bit parts until he’s ready for a starring role. He makes only two or three pictures a year. In television, they slap you into the starring role in a series, and you make 26 episodes right off the bat. If the series flops, you’re dead. There isn’t time to build a personality.”

Cheyenne’s Clint Walker ($1,500 a week), who has already taken a ten-month leave from the studio to skindive for gold, is ready to take another. Wayde Preston ($500 a week) walked off the set of Colt .45, signed up as a partner in an airplane charter service. “Worst of all,” he grumbled, “is the weekly insult—the paycheck. Heck, I can make more money laying bricks than acting.”

By week’s end the restlessness of the cowhands had spread to the gumshoes. Edd (“Kookie”) Byrnes of 77 Sunset Strip refused to go to the studio until he gets a raise on his $500-a-week salary. “Warners claims they made me,” he scoffs. “That’s ridiculous. What success I’ve had is the public’s doing.”

More Must-Reads from TIME

Contact us at letters@time.com