Book Manuscript Excerpt: How to Get Your Boss to Respect You
by John Aquino on 11/08/12
This is part of a chapter from a book manuscript of mine that I keep trying to place--I've gotten some nibbles but no swallow--about using anecdotes of film making (not film stories like The Godfather but stories about the makings of films--to illustrate business lessons. Hope you like it.
The Marx Brothers—Groucho, Chico, Harpo, and Zeppo—made five wild, madcap, and even anarchistic films for Paramount Studios in the early 1930s—The Coconuts, Animal Crackers, Money Business, Horse Feathers, and Duck Soup. The last one was so wild that the public did not come, and Paramount did not renew their contract. Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer was becoming the prestige movie studio. It produced Grand Hotel and Dinner at Eight. It had “more stars than there are in heaven,” including Greta Garbo, Joan Crawford, and John and Lionel Barrymore. Irving Thalberg was the head of production at M-G-M. He could be distant and moody, but those who knew him loved him. (F. Scott Fitzgerald based the protagonist of his last, unfinished novel The Last Tycoon on Thalberg.) Atypically, Thalberg thought that the Marx Brothers—minus the fourth brother, Zeppo--could somehow be wild and mad and yet work within the refined atmosphere of M-G-M. In fact, the dichotomy of the Mark Brothers loose in a refined setting was the premise of their first MGM picture A Night at the Opera. Thalberg's instinct was, as usual, correct. A Night at the Opera was a success, revitalizing the Marx Brothers' careers.
Thalberg had some failings, one of which was that he was always late. He had a meeting scheduled with the Marx Brothers. The Marx Brothers waited and waited for over an hour. Then they went to the studio commissary and bought some potatoes. When Thalberg finally arrived for the meeting, he found the Marx Brothers sitting on the floor, naked, and roasting the potatoes in his wastepaper basket.
Thalberg was never late for a meeting with the Marx Brothers again.
Do not, repeat, do not strip naked and roast potatoes in your boss’ office—even if he is late or shows some other mark of disrespect toward you. The Mark Brothers were the only ones in the history of the world who could get away with something like this. But the point of the story is that bosses tend to respect people who make it clear that they deserve the boss’ respect. Do it quietly and privately—you’ll notice that the Marx Brothers did not strip naked in the studio commissary but in Thalberg’s office—but find some way to indicate that you have earned the boss’ respect. Tell your boss or find an appropriate way—like the Marx Brothers did—to demonstrate it. If you don’t, then it’s simple—the boss will not respect you. He or she is likely to ignore your input, take you for granted, and not treat you well in your remuneration. Thalberg also knew that the Marx Brothers really respected him. Their rebuke was targeted to a particular trait of his and was not widespread insolence. Respect is a two-way street. Groucho Marx would always claim that Thalberg “saved” him and his brothers. After Thalberg died in 1937, Groucho said later that the fun went out of making movies.
Kirk Douglas tells the story of what happens when an employee does not stand up to the boss. Tom Tryon was a young actor who had started out working for Walt Disney in the late 1950s. On television, he starred in the Disney TV series “Texas John Slaughter” (which had wonderfully concise theme song, “Texas John Slaughter made ‘em do what they oughta/’Cause if they didn’t they died.”) and then in the Disney comedy Moon Pilot, which played in theatres in 1961. From what appeared to be the benign world of Disneyland and its trimmings, Tryon went to work for someone whom many compared to the devil. Otto Preminger was a very demanding Teutonic director who often humiliated his actors. In 1963, Tryon was given the starring role in Preminger's film version of the novel The Cardinal and then was part of an ensemble cast in the director's 1964 World War II epic In Harm's Way. Also in the cast of the last film were Kirk Douglas, Henry Fonda, and John Wayne. Douglas did not have any scenes with Tryon, but, on the sidelines, he saw the director browbeat the young actor, criticizing his every move. Douglas took Tryon aside and told him to stand up to Preminger, that he was a bully who would back down, that the only thing Preminger could do was fire him and that would delay the film. But, he concludes sadly, “I could never get Tom to do that.”
Douglas claims that when Preminger raised his voice to him he walked over to the director, stood nose to nose, and asked him in a low voice, "Are you talking to me?" Douglas said Preminger never insulted him again. Admittedly, Douglas was in a different position than Tryon. Douglas had been a box office champion since Champion in 1949, had his own production company, and produced his own movies like Spartacus. But he had been a young actor once, and his advice reflected his own experience. Beaten down by Preminger, Tryon simply gave up acting. He became a writer and sold some of his books--like The Other--to Hollywood. But In Harm's Way was his last major film as an actor. Congratulations, Mr. Preminger, on driving a fine, young actor out of the business! For what it's worth, In Harm's Way was Preminger's last successful film, followed by failure after failure.
The actor Don Ameche got into a dispute with his director and handled it in such a way that he earned the director’s respect and that of his entire crew. Ameche had been a major star for Twentieth Century Fox in the 1930s and 1940s—The Story of Alexander Bell (1938), In Old Chicago (1938), Moon Over Miami (1941), Heaven Can Wait (1943)--but he stopped making movies for almost 30 years and instead concentrated on the stage and television. In 1982, the insurance company would not cover Ray Milland for his part as an old millionaire in Trading Places because of his ill health, and so the producers hired Ameche, who was then 75. Filmmaking had changed a lot in 30 years. Trading Places—a comedy about a bet between two old rich men on whether a young stockbroker or a young con man will cope better when they change places—was a young persons’ film. Dan Aykroyd and Eddie Murphy were the leads, John Landis was the director. Landis and Aykroyd were just over 30, and Murphy was 22. The rest of the cast and crew were generally young. Ameche was, however, a gentleman and of a convivial sort and so got along well with everyone.
But the script required Ameche to shout out, toward the end of the movie, a four-letter word that he felt was obscene. Ameche was of the old school, and he was also a devout Roman Catholic. He refused to say the word, but Landis insisted. Landis thought that the incongruity between this dignified man and the obscenity coming out of his mouth would get a laugh.
Ameche finally agreed to say the word, and Landis set up the shot. But just as Landis was about to yell, “Action,” Ameche said to the cast and crew, “Ladies and gentlemen, I have an announcement to make.” Landis was thunderstruck. Since when did an actor make a speech to the company? What was he going to say?
Ameche continued, “Our director has asked me to say a word that I have never said in my life. I object to it, but he is our director, and throughout my career I have always followed the direction of my director. But I ask you that we all be very good in this scene so that I only have to say the word once.”
Landis was impressed at Ameche’s integrity and yet his fairness. He later remembered that the cast and crew, who probably said the word themselves a hundred times a day, admired and respected him in that one moment even more than they had before. And, although it was a complicated shot, with action going on behind Ameche and people moving in and out of the frame, everyone did it perfectly the first time, and Ameche only had to say the word once.
Ameche, his career revitalized by his performance in Trading Places, won the best supporting actor Oscar two years later for his role in Cocoon.
Ameche stood up to his boss, earned his and the crew's admiration, and yet did not disrupt the shot or destroy the work of others. A good example.
