The movie rights for "Gone With the Wind" had to be sold. The problem was that it was a costume film, it would be expensive, hard to cast, and needed a hard sell. Twentieth put in an offer of $35 000 and Warner Brothers offered $40 000, hoping to purchase so the role of Scarlett O'Hara would go to their female star, Bette Davis, who was threatening to walk out on suspension.
Margaret's new agent, Annie Laurie Williams refused all these offers, saying that they would not accept less than $65 000. This was all done without consulting Margaret, who, when she found out, was upset that such a fortune as forty thousand dollars was turned down. (Had she known earlier, she might have insisted that they take Warner Bros. offer, thus changing history as we know it. Vivien Leigh would have never come into the picture and Bette Davis would have been our Scarlett.)
From the list of books ordered by bookstores, it looked like Gone With the Wind would be more than moderately successful. Then came the real boost. Gone With the Wind was the topic of the Book-of-the-Month Club, something that had been waited for from the start. The club planned to take fifty thousand copies to start, and agreed to pay $10 000 for exclusive book-club rights.
(Yet another of my wonderful direct quotes. My, aren't these fun? I am only on my 23 page of typing, it is 9:08 p.m., I have been up since early this morning, working on this, and still giving you readers another quote.)
'John was away on a trip to Savannah for Georgia Power (that is where he worked) when Lois called to tell Peggy this news (that GWTW was the book-club choice). George Brett sent a confirming letter setting out the terms of Macmillian's agreement with the Book-of-the-Month Club. For several days, Peggy kept the news to herself. Long-distance telephone calls were considered a great extravagance in the Mitchell-Marsh family, and so she was reluctant to call John and share the news with him. Finally, she took Brett's letter over to show her father, who, she told Lois, was not only her father, but her severest critic. According to Peggy, Eugene Mitchell said frankly that "nothing in the world would induce him to read the book again and that nothing in the world except the fact that [Peggy] was his child induced him to read it originally." (Thanks, Dad.) It seemed to him "very strange that a sensible organization should pick this book," an idea with which, at least in her letter to Lois, Peggy heartily concurred.'
(OUCH! That was a great thing for a father to say. That little section, with all of my input and changing of text and copying from the book, took me seven minutes to type, with corrections, as it is now 9:15 p.m. Just thought you would like to know how much work I am putting in for you.)
'When John returned home several days later, Peggy was in despair. She thought the book would fail miserably as a Book-of-the-Month Club choice and embarrass everyone involved. John told her blandly that she was "a fool"'
'As soon as Medora (remember her? She is Margaret's friend) was informed of the Book-of-the-Month Club news, the Sunday Journal ran a story on it. Lois was furious because she thought Macmillian should have been the first to break the story, and she crowed a bit about the three-page advertisement for the book that Macmillian had placed in Publisher's Weekly. Peggy was pleased with the advertisement (The characters are people with whom Miss Mitchell has lived, the atmosphere is the same she has breathed since birth), but she thought the picture of her that had been used made her face look "long and pointed instead of square," and gave her a loathsome ratlike Levantine look," and she wrote to Lois, "I have become hardened to looking like a cat but never a rat." Actually, the picture was a flattering one -- her eyes look large and alive, and her smile is wistful and charming.
'The "ratlike" photograph was to appear in the Book-of-the-Month Club bulletin and Peggy asked Lois to withdraw it and replace it with a new one she sent. She also requested that the bulletin, in describing Bessie, substitute the words "colored maid" for "colored lady" for the benefit of Southern readers.
'In April, Publisher's Weekly gave the novel its first advance review. "Gone With the Wind is very possibly the greatest American novel," it concluded, after lavishly praising its character development, story, and historical authenticity. The New York World Telegram said in its book column, "The forthcoming Civil War novel, Gone With the Wind, will undoubtedly be leading the best-seller lists as soon as it appears."'
(That is the end of my direct quote.)
Everyone from the Mitchell and Marsh households considered Gone With the Wind a "one-shot fluke," which meant whatever money Margaret got from it had to be handled well, and the three men in her family would watch over it well.
Annie Williams, (the agent) wanted Margaret to discuss making Gone With the Wind into a movie, and asked if they could talk about her best interests. Margaret, who didn't want an agent to begin with, blew up and declared that "if Miss Williams had read the book, she would know it was not good movie material." Annie argued back that she had read the book, and that it was good material for a movie, and suggested that she come to Atlanta to discuss the matter further with Margaret. This upset made matters worse between the women. Margaret never forgave Annie for this call.
Margaret was suffering from severe eye strain from re-working her manuscript and researching. She claimed that she had never counted, but her resources ran up into the thousands. She said that she would leave nothing to chance or criticism -- 'what time of day the news came of Hood's defeat at Jonesboro, the weather conditions at the time, the hour the retreat began and the hour the last outpost withdrew, the exact positions of the munitions trains, the exact time they were fired. Then, of course, there were hundreds of details, such as when hoop skirts went out and bustles came in, the price cotton sold for in Liverpool in 1863 ($1.91 a pound), the way pistols worked, "and well, hundreds of other unimportant but important things."'
'Anyone who knew Peggy thought of her as a vibrant, vital woman. But from the time Gone With the Wind was published, she propagated a very specific public image, utilizing every opportunity to call attention to her physical condition. In the first publicity release she gave Macmillian she wrote, "I am very small. I don't feel small. Like most small people I feel myself as big as anyone else and twice as strong. But I am only 4' 11" tall. By working hard all the time and drinking lots of milk I managed to keep my weight at one hundred pounds."
'She also managed, in the space of less than five hundred words, to explain why she had written
about the Civil War ("I was reared on it"), and to deny ever having read Vanity Fair, to which her
book had already been compared, until "a year and a half ago after my auto accident," adding, "I
was on crutches for about three years." She said that she read voraciously and rapidly and had
hoped to study medicine, "but while I was at Smith College my mother died and I had to come
home to keep house." Except that she claimed she was fifteen and a half years old when she left
Smith, the above statements were probably true. But they underscored her way of relating time
and experiences to the "disasters" in her life. References to accidents and crutches and long years
of convalescence just before the book's publication created an aura of sadness about her. Further
talk of darkened rooms and bandages and orders not to read even a telephone number was certain
to create rumors of serious illness and advancing blindness -- and so it did. Then, upon hearing or
reading these rumors, Peggy would become unaccountably incensed -- even though they brought
with them warm responses of sympathy and protectiveness.'
(Sorry about all that direct quoting, but give me a break! It is 10:16 p.m. and I am tired!)
The first bound copies were brought to Atlanta by Latham, who asked her to look over it for any further typographical errors. Margaret said that she "nearly threw up at the sight of it," for the book was a reminder of the hard months of work she put into it. Actually, she referred to it as the "nightmare of getting it ready."
The advance copies of the book were being sent to reviewers and to film studios. When Latham came back to New York, a five thousand dollar advance on royalties was sent to Margaret. It would be months before, under contract, she would receive any more money for her work. The book's orders were more than twenty thousand and there was the Book-of-the-Month Club money to come as well. To this point, Margaret had only received her five hundred dollar advance.
Margaret finally agreed to do a talk at Atlanta Library, for she would not come to New York for publicity. It took a lot of prodding to get her there, so she spoke at the Atlanta Library Club supper before about fifty people. She had spoken earlier to the Macon Writer's Club Breakfast, but, despite the audience size (two hundred and fifty people), she said it was "like talking to friends." She did not enjoy the library talk at all, for when she was introduced, her book was compared to Vanity Fair, War and Peace, and Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. This upset her so much she forgot what she had come to say, and before she realized it, she was telling "indelicate stories." Even after that experience, however, she spoke at a banquet given in her honor by the Georgia Press Association. She was treated like a celebrity there, and not just John Marsh's wife, as it had been in years in the past.
Even though only fifteen hundred advance copies of the book were given to selected people, Margaret was a celebrity in her hometown and to her friends in the Press Club. Local papers carried the progress of the book. Some reviewers had published early reviews. No one was overwhelmed more than Margaret of her fame at this time. From the beginning, she made it a point to reply to each review. Though she was thrilled by the flattering reviews, she found them hard to believe. Neither John nor Margaret knew what was to come. Lois and Latham felt certain that the book was to be a publishing phenomenon and tried to prepare Margaret for the fame that would follow. But she still thought of it as 'a bubble that would burst as soon as the book appeared in bookstores.'
On May 25, the contract was signed by Margaret giving Macmillan the right to sell the book to the movies. She wrote Latham that she felt "very relieved about having it in your hands instead of any agent." If someone was "mad enough to buy the book for films," Macmillan promised to get her final say on the situation, because she did not want "tough-mouthed Harlem accents in southern Negroes' mouths."And she asked, "By the way, is your new agency department going to handle dramatic rights too?"
(This is also a cool part. I think you all would enjoy this part, so I am quoting it from the book.)
'Bette Davis claims she was about to leave for England in defiance of her studio, Warner Brothers, when Jack Warner called her into his office and told her he was about to buy a book with a marvelous part in it for her.
"What is it?" Davis asked.
"A new novel. It's called Gone With the Wind."
"I bet it's a pip," the lady says she replied, and walked out of Warner's office to take the first available boat to England. Gone With the Wind sounded exactly like the kind of melodrama she was willing to take a suspension and loss of salary to avoid.
'But, curiously, on May 28, Harold Latham received the following telegram:
Dear Mr Latham have had opportunity read book Gone With the Wind by Margaret Mitchell and am terribly eager to play the role of Scarlet[t] stop know that I could do greater things with this role than my part in Dangerous which won academy award last year stop understand warner brothers negotiating for motion picture rights in Gone With the Wind and my personal desire to play in it is so great that I am sending you this wire on a purely personal and selfish basis to urge that you do not sell it to any other company as this would mean I would lose the part which would break my heart.
Bette Davis.
'Miss Davis swears that she did not send this telegram. That raises the possibility that Warner Brothers sent it, risking an allegation of fraud to get the rights to Gone With the Wind for the $40 000 they had offered and hoping that Miss Davis's name would soften Macmillan's heart. Perhaps Miss Davis's agent sent the telegram without her knowledge. But whoever was the true author of the telegram, is content suggested that Hollywood had changed its tune. Forty thousand dollars had been the price paid for Anthony Adverse, the highest price to that date for the film rights to a first novel. Annie Laurie Williams was determined to get more. (I skipped the part that tells about her, as it did not seem important at the time, but I will give you a brief summary. Margaret hates Annie Laurie Williams, but Macmillian thinks she is a great agent. Margaret is letting Macmillian arrange everything for the film rights after signing a contract, and Macmillian secretly hired Annie Laurie Williams as their agent. Pretty sneaky, huh?) Negotiations were going forward with David Selznick, but Lois wrote Peggy that a deal was "far from in the bag."'
Annie Laurie Williams had sent the novel to Katherine Brown, who was head of the New York office of Selznick-International Pictures, at the same time that it was being read by Warner Brothers. The book excited Miss Brown, and she sent Selznick, who was on the West Coast, a memo which read: "I beg, urge, coax, and plead you to drop everything and buy it." Selznick, to her disappointment, cabled back to her: "Most sorry to have to say no in the face of your enthusiasm." A few weeks later he still did not think the book was worth over $40 000. He wanted to wait until publication and see how well the book did.
Macmillan knew now for sure that the book was going to be a best-seller. In good faith, they had George Brett write to Margaret, telling her that they were reinstating the contract, so she would receive 10% on the first twenty-five thousand, and then 15% thereafter.
Bookstores were sold out of Gone With the Wind before they even received the books. There was nearly 100 000 copies of the book in print. Never before was there a novel that sold like this even before it was published. In letter after letter, Lois, Latham, and Brett told Margaret to get ready for the fame that would come in an onslaught. Margaret never took these warnings seriously.
(Here are two New York reviews. The first is by Edwin Granberry of the New York Sun, and the second is by Herschel Brikell of the New York Post.)
'We are ready to stand of fall by the assertion that this novel has the strongest claim of any novel on the American scene to be bracketed with the work of the great from abroad -- Tolstoi, Hardy, Dickens and the modern Undset. We have had more beautiful prose from American writers; and we have had those who excel in this or that branch of the novelist's art. But we can think of no single American novelist who has combined as has Mitchell all the talents that go into the making of the great panoramic novel such as the English and Russians and the Scandinavians have known how to produce.'
Herschel Brikell referred to the book as a "striking piece of fiction, which is much too sound and too important not to pass into the permanent body of American literature," and he said it came "closer to telling the whole story of the most dramatic episode in our history, the War Between the States and the dark and bloody days that followed the braking up of a culture, than anything that has ever been written or printed . . . It is far and away the best novel that has ever been written about the Civil War and the days that followed."
'Margaret did not read these two reviews on the publication day. She went to Davidson's early that Tuesday morning, and found herself in the center of mayhem. Even with the several hundred books Davidson's had ordered, the demand was greater than the supply. Customers were tearing books out of each other's hands. A zealous fan ripped a button from Peggy's silk jacket for a memento. Another surprised her by snipping off a lock of her hair. Peggy remained remarkably good-natured through it all. "Southerners, especially Altantans," she said to Medora, who accompanied her, "consider their folks' success belongs to everyone." she left the department store with Medora and Norman Berg, who worked in Macmillan's Atlanta office, and went over to station WSB, where Medora interviewed her on a live radio show. Although Peggy claimed they were both in "a lather of apprehension" since they had no idea what to do or say, the interview went better than either of them had expected, for Medora led Peggy right into the heart of what she could talk about most colorfully and easily -- her youth and the stories she had been told so often about the days of the Civil War and Reconstruction.
'Peggy arrived home just as John was returning from work, to find Bessie in a state of near hysteria. The telephone had been ringing almost nonstop. Telegrams and special deliveries arrived in a deluge, and people kept buzzing the doorbell and thrusting books at Bessie to have signed by the author.'
'Peggy Mitchell had become an overnight celebrity."
(And thus, history was made! Poor Margaret. I have read ahead, and worse times are on the way!)
**Margaret Mitchell (1936-1938)**
Bibliography
Edwards, Anne. Road to Tara - The Life of Margaret Mitchell. New Haven and New York: Ticknor and Fields, 1983.