CALIFORNIA STATE UNIVERSITY, NORTHRIDGE

THE PREPARATION OF THE ROLE OF TOM MOODY IN CLIFFORD ODETS' GOLDEN BOY

An essay submitted in partial satisfaction of the requirements for the degree of Master of Arts in Theatre by Robert T. Hollander

June, 1981 The Essay of Robert T. Hollander is approved:

Prof. c(§!g Nieuwenhuysel

Dr. Georg~ Gunkle, Committee Chairman

California State University, Northridge

ii ABSTRACT

THE PREPARATION OF THE ROLE OF TOM MOODY

IN CLIFFORD ODETS' GOLDEN BOY by

Robert T. Hollander

Master of Arts in Theatre

Golden Boy was first produced by the Group

Theatre in New York in 1937. Directed by Harold Clurman,

this 1937 production included in its cast names that were

to become notable in the American theatre: Luther Adler,

Frances Farmer, Lee J. Cobb, Jules (John) Garfield, Morris

Carnovsky, Elia Kazan, Howard Da Silva and Karl Malden.

Golden Boy quickly became the most successful production 1 in Group Theatre history and was followed in 1939 by the movie of the same name, starring William Holden and

Barbara Stanwyck. Since then, there have been countless revivals, including a musical adaptation in 1964 which starred Sammy Davis Jr. Golden Boy certainly merits consideration as one of the classics of modern American drama.

1Harold Clurman, The Fervent Years: The Story of the Group Theatre and the Thirties. (New York: Harcourt, Brace, Jovanovich. A Harvest Book, 1975), p. 211.

1 2

The decision to prepare the character of Torn Moody as a thesis project under the direction of Dr. George Gunkle was made during the spring semester of 1980 at which time I was performing a major role in The Knight of the Burning Pestle, a seventeenth century farce written by Beaumont and Fletcher. My participation in this play, also under the direction of Dr. Gunkle, resulted from an agreement that a successful relationship in this produc­ tion would be a preliminary requirement to our working together for my thesis project. As a result, my casting was announced before general auditions were held for Golden Boy in late August 1980. Regular rehearsals commenced on January 5th, 1981, and the production ran as scheduled for thirteen performances from February 27, 1981 through March 15, 1981. In addition to the foregoing schedule, an exper­ imental class, theatre 496L, was proposed by Dr. Gunkle and approved by the Department of Theatre for the fall semester of 1980. Students accepted for this class, which met two and one-half hours, twice a week, were primarily cast members of Golden Boy. A limited number of others with a demonstrable interest in this production were also accepted with the consent of the instructor. The purposes of this class were twofold. First, students were assigned areas of research in order to collect the information needed by the actors, the direc- 3 tor, and ultimately the designers. (Appendix A) Second, the class involved improvisational work which took this accumulating information and used it as the context within which each character could emerge and grow. (Appendices B, C and D) In this fashion we took our first steps to develop the ensemble which matured slowly over the next six months.

THE RESEARCH PERIOD

Our research effort began in September 1980 and continued throughout the fall semester. Research assign­ ments were made by the director with the circumstances of the actor's character and interests in mind. The result­ ing papers were then compiled into notebooks which became assigned reading. In this way, the assembled information was disseminated to members of the class. Very early in this process, a natural division evolved for the cast. For both research and improvisa­ tional purposes, it became practical to separate the cast into two groups. One was the "boxing crowd" consisting of characters associated with boxing scenes in the play. These included Lorna, Roxy, Tokio, Joe, Fuseli, Pepper, Mickey and Tom Moody. The "family group," on the other hand, was represented by Mr. Bonaparte, Frank, Anna, Siggie, Mr. Carp and, of course, Joe, who belonged 4

naturally to both groups. This division, with some overlapping, was maintained throughout the fall semester and most of the rehearsal period. It was not until a little more than two weeks before opening night that both groups were brought together. For many in the cast this was the first opportunity to see the other scenes of Golden Boy in rehearsal. Much of the research work was also done in these groups. For example, the "boxing crowd" went on field trips, which included a visit to the Main Street Gym. (Appendix E) On several occasions we attended the Thurs­ day night fights at the Olympic Auditorium. (Appendix F) On one occasion a videotape interview of Angelo Dundee, trainer for Mohammed Ali and Sugar Ray Leonard, was viewed by the "boxing crowd." We also viewed tapes of the Pinter­ Davila bantamweight championship bout and the second Sugar Ray Leonard-Roberto Duran fight. Some of the research was done individually. I prepared two papers describing the quality of life during the Depression. (Appendices G and H) Most of the source material for this came from historical texts. Some was supplemented by a movie shown to the class, depicting the political, social and economic changes occurring in the 1930s. In addition, I prepared two papers on the subject of the boxing world of the thirties. (Appendices I and J) Since very little printed information was available on 5 this subject, I used interviewing as source material for one of these reports. Two of my interviews were conducted at the Main Street Gym. The other, my interview with "Kid" Chissell, developed from an article in Ring Magazine. This article described the activities of the Los Angeles Cauliflower Alley Club, an organization of retired fighters. I called the secretary-treasurer and solicited an invitation to attend one of their luncheons. There I got my interview with the "Kid" and I was also able to persuade him to become my "expert" advisor. I called him frequently afterwards and he turned out to be an invaluable source. During the research period, our cast collected an impressive range and volume of information. Much of it was applicable and of great value to the production. All of us picked up facts which helped us develop insights into our characters= Often these were useful in interpre­ ting the script. For example, in the very first scene Tom tells Lorna that Kaplan gets four hundred dollars to fight the Chocolate Drop. My research in the boxing area helped me understand the real implications of this statement. For one thing, the size of the purse in 1937 dollars meant that this fight had to be a major bout, a ten round main event. After expenses, Tom's share of the purse would probably be about one hundred dollars. Since Kaplan was 6

Moody's only working fighter at this time and represented his sole source of income, it gives us an insight into Tom's financial predicament, especially after Kaplan breaks his hand. Therefore, the pressure on Moody was (and had to be) enormous to use the unknown kid, Joe, as Kaplan's replacement. One also appreciates the enormity of Monica's demands when she asks for five thousand dollars. No wonder Lorna laughs bitterly when Tom tells her the price of divorce.

THE IMPROVISATIONAL WORK

Even before the research period began, we had started improvising, since Dr. Gunkle used it as a major audition technique. By using an improvisational approach, he could better judge the onstage personality of the actor, his responsiveness, concentration and creativity. The audition situations were related to the play but were not parallel to scenes in the script. They were set in gymnasiums, offices, parks, living rooms and stores. The improvisations were open ended. The auditioning actors were given a character summary for each role of interest, and they were encouraged to react spontaneously and not "play-write." With the completion of casting, the first step in the rehearsal process was a series of group and indivi- 7 dual improvisations. The focus of these exercises was upon getting the actors better acquainted with each other through the "masks" of early and tentative characteriza­ tions. We tried to be spontaneous, reacting as freely as possible to other characters and to our situations. We allowed no audience, not even other actors, and we were told to avoid conflict, drama, theatricality and allow the way others treated us to help shape our growing sense of our characters. We were cautioned by our director not to play actions--that would come later--and not to allow our accumulation of the facts of the period to make us judg­ mental about what information others were giving us in the improvisation. The most frequent factual errors in these exercises were anachronisms but we were cautioned to ignore these and never stop the flow of any imaginative sequence. Many of the facts would gradually fill in for us through the research process we were simultaneously employing. Dr. Gunkle felt that character relationships and behavior are better developed through improvisation than through discussion. Accordingly, there were very few discussions of character, and the tendency to reduce an understanding of character into a typically oversimple logic of human behavior was strongly resisted. In his view, a complex growth process was taking place, but in 8

an organic, i.e., natural, quasi-biological way. He monitored our behavior continuously in ·rehearsal, but his process of shaping it was subtle and we were rarely conscious of his hand at work. In effect, all improvisation activity during the first months of rehearsal was devoted to the development of characterization. (The shaping of scenes into some- thing properly theatrical was to come much, much later.) However, various aspects of character development were emphasized at different times. In the early period, a good deal of improvisational time was spent simply exploring relationships and developing a shared concen­ tration deeply enough to produce a realistic atmosphere. For these purposes, the "boxing crowd" improvised several office scenes in which the key activity was playing cards. Other group improvisations included a celebration at a bar following Joe's first fight. Several of our improvisations took place in the gym. One lively session developed from a picnic improvisation during which we played ball. At another time, we improvised a party which included the entire cast. In none of these situations was there a single center of focus. Rather, we learned to work together, giving and taking focus as the action around us dictated. Often we were so non-theatrical and non-projective that Dr. Gunkle had to move around the room in order to hear what we were saying to each other. 9

Another objective of improvisation was to develop "backlife," which involves exploring each character's history as suggested by information in the text. To ful­ fill this objective, we improvised ideas such as the one in which Tokio and Moody visit Roxy to offer him a part­ nership in the ownership of Joe's contract. Immediately afterwards, we improvised the opposite situation by having Roxy come to Moody's office and offer to buy a "piece" of our fighter. We explored these alternatives more than once in order to arrive at the group's best sense of how Roxy and Moody became partners in Joe's contract. An example of other improvisations was the one in which Tokio comes to Moody to apply for a job as a trainer. Several weeks later, we improvised the same situation in a bar scene in which Lorna and Roxy were also present. Lorna and Tom had many "evening at home" improvisations as well as several in Moody's office. In one of these, Moody propositions Lorna, whom he had been interviewing for a job. Another significant improvisation was Moody's first date with Monica. This laid the groundwork for the impor­ tant backlife relationship between them. Monica, Moody's estranged wife, never appeared on stage. Yet she was an important unseen character. At my request, Dr. Gunkle cast the part of Monica during auditions and the actress joined our class for the fall semester. Monica's relationship with Moody affected his 10 with Lorna. With that in mind, and with the director's consent, I spent quite some time with the actress cast as Monica, improvising a backlife relationship. Through a series of improvisations, we formed a history of a stormy relationship. Starting with a strong physical attraction which literally terminated with preg­ nancy and a subsequent obligatory marriage, we experienced through a series of improvisations a relationship which deteriorated despite our efforts to halt the process. The climax occurred during an improvisation of a wedding anni­ versary dinner which started on a hopeful and cheerful level but gradually wore down, without any obvious dis­ agreement or argument, into a sense of deepening despair. The uniqueness of this improvisation expressed itself in the way we quietly stopped eating and stared vacantly at our plates. The silence ended when our indecision ended. There was nothing to do but separate. This decision, reached naturally during the improvisational process, con­ cluded this phase of work with Monica. However, the Lorna Moon and Tom Moody relationship remained the most difficult and complex in the play. Backlife development became an immediate objective, but we realized that our performance would "live or die" on the personal level. The audience had to believe Moody's love and great need for Lorna. Moody's despair and panic when he realized he could lose Lorna needed to be truly felt 11 by the actor. We had to work well with each other. The "chemistry" between us had to be right. The choice of actress for the Lorna role com­ pounded the problem from the very beginning. Although she was exceptionally well qualified, my personal reaction to her was, unaccountably, one of uneasiness and timidity. This initial reaction deepened my insecurity because Dr. Gunkle and I had recognized long before auditions were held how difficult it would be for me to develop the nec­ essary onstage relationship between Moody and his younger mistress. For the next several months Lorna and I regularly worked on this relationship by devising limited objectives for countless mini-improvisations each lasting from five to fifteen minutes. Examples of these objectives were everyday happenings, such as planning an evening or dis­ cussing Moody's family. There were improvisations about food, money, fighters, and even the weather. We talked about Lorna's father and argued about Lorna meeting Moody's mother. We tried situations in which Moody and then Lorna became jealous, pensive or insecure. Gradually we wore down the walls between us. As our relationship eased and we no longer treated each other like eggshells, we started improvising more extensively for the purpose of building backlife. Creating backlife with Lorna was a difficult 12

problem. Odets gave us a script which strongly suggests prostitution in Lorna's background. In addition, the playwright makes Lorna's relationship to Moody dependent on gratitude for saving her from the "gutter. 11 The entire scenario suggested bad melodrama. This was difficult for us to relate to and believe. Consequently, we never fully came to grips with this problem, but worked around it. The closest we came, was an improvisation in which Lorna meets Moody accidentally in a bar. This was their second meeting, several months after the job audition in Moody's office. Lorna picks up Moody and invites him back to her place. There, Moody finds out from Lorna that she is being coerced into prostitution. Since he is greatly attracted to her, he decides to try to help her and calls Fuseli. Fuseli arranges to get Lorna "off the hook" as a favor to Moody. This improvisation worked very nicely. Unfortu­ nately the complication became Fuseli's involvement. Later in rehearsals, we improvised the scene with Fuseli and found this involvement to be undesirable. It placed Moody under an obligation to Fuseli which distorted the shape of Act II, Scene 1, where Moody has to resist Fuseli's bid for a part ownership of Joe Bonaparte. This was an example of how some of the improvisa­ tions led us into blind alleys. Many of these loose ends were deliberately left alone. Dr. Gunkle reminded us that 13 there was never an obligation to keep something from a previous improvisational session if it no longer worked. Consequently, we never came to the point where Lorna's backlife, either before or after meeting Tom, was fully spelled out. But we did get close enough in several improvisations to give us a greater sense of security in performance.

THE PROBLEM AREAS

Developing the proper relationship with Lorna was a major problem, but it was not the only one Lorna and Moody faced. One problem surfaced in the script, another turned out to be an omission in the text. The former occurred in Act II, Scene 3 during the following dialogue sequence: MOODY. •••• I don't kid myself. I know what I need. I need you, Lorna. LORNA. It has to end •••• MOODY. What has to end? LORNA. Everything. MOODY. What're you talking about? LORNA. I oughta burn. I'm leaving you •••• MOODY. That's what you think. LORNA. I mean it. MOODY. I mean it too. LORNA. You can't take a joke? Lorna, having decided to leave Moody for Joe, tells Tom she is leaving him. The difficulty arises with Moody's reaction, which in the script seems almost threatening, and Lorna's last line in which, unaccount- 14 ably, she backs down. We felt that Moody could not be threatening because that would be inconsistent with their relationship. Lorna's reversal, on the other hand, was so abrupt that it could not be motivated. This particular episode baffled all of us. In performance, we tried to play it with conviction but we never resolved this prob- lem. In retrospect, a better solution might have been to rewrite this portion of the scene. The other problem Lorna and Tom faced was how to continue their relationship after this same scene which ended with the following lines: MOODY. What's wrong, Lorna? You can tell me •••• T... ORNA. I feel like the wrath of God. MOODY. You like that boy, don't you? LORNA. I love him, Tom. For Tom, the play could have ended right there. The next scene shows Lorna alienated from Joe but still engaged to marry Tom. Questions are raised by this situa- tion. What adjustments does Moody make to marry a woman he knows loves another man? What adjustments does Lorna make to marry a man who knows she loves another? Unfor- tunately, Odets never wrote a scene resolving this dilemma. To find our own way, we improvised the continua- tion of this scene. We improvised a dozen different ways to find an adjustment that would work for both Moody and Lorna. Each time we consciously tried different approaches. The 15 pivotal point for Moody, in this struggle to accept the situation, was his great need for Lorna. The pivotal point for Lorna was her age. She was eight years older than Joe and feared he would tire of her as she grew older. The results of these improvisations could best be described as a patchwork of tentative accommodations. We were pleased with the results of our efforts because a confrontation like this in real life might very well have been resolved in just such a fashion. A completely different acting problem confronted me in the last scene of the play. Act III, Scene 3 ends in the following manner: FRANK. You're all killers! BONAPARTE. Frank •••• is it ••• ? FRANK. I don't know how to tell you, poppa •••• BONAPARTE= Yes ••• ? FRANK. We'll have to go there­ EDDIE. Go where? FRANK. Both of them ••• they were killed in a crash- EDDIE. Who?! What?! FRANK. They're waiting for identification­ Long Island, Babylon. EDDIE. What are you handing me?! MOODY. I don't believe that Do you hear me? I don't believe it------FRANK. What waste! ••• MOODY. It's a goddam lie!! BONAPARTE. What have-a you expect? ••• MOODY. Lorna! ••• BONAPARTE. Joe ••• Come, we bring-a him home ••• where he belong •••• 16

Odets ended Golden Boy on a very emotional level. Some of the criticism he received about the play concerned the ending, which many critics felt was a con­ venient, oft-used resolution of a difficult problem. But whatever the criticism, as an actor I had to deal with a situation totally outside of my experience. In this scene, Moody breaks down completely because the woman he loves above all else in life has apparently died. The problem was intensified because this produc­ tion was staged in-the-round in a small theatre of only one hundred and fifteen seats. It was an intimate envi­ ronment. The performance required subtlety and because there was an audience all around us, there was no place to "hide" during an emotional moment. I experienced a great deal of difficulty in rehearsals coping with the end of the scene. After the first few times the use of sense memory techniques did not seem to work for me. Trying to relate this to equi­ valent experiences in my life and consequently bring about suitable responses, did not bring me consistently to the point I felt I needed to reach in this scene. After some experimentation, I settled on a purely tech­ nical approach. I concentrated on my bitterness towards Fuseli, which was the residue of a previous confrontation in the scene. I ignored the telephone responses of Frank and his exhortation of "You're all killers!" I did not 17 respond at all until Frank's line "Both of them ••• " Only then did I allow an awareness that something was wrong to seep into my consciousness. Then I focused on Frank's deadened eyes. I gave my lines as straight and simply as I could bear to say them. Then something clicked with­ in me and the rest of my responses were automatic. I felt myself give way emotionally, and the harder I tried to control myself, the more intense my reaction seemed to become. On many nights I had difficulty composing myself enough to make the curtain call. The full impact of this last scene did not usually leave me until long after the performance ended. When the scene went well, as it usually did, it was an exhilarating acting experience.

PERSONAL EVALUATION

The six months I spent in preparation for the role of Tom Moody constituted the most demanding acting period of my life. This role did not come easily for me. There were many times when I felt overwhelmed. I understand from my family that during the last two months I underwent a pronounced personality change. I experienced insomnia, excessive restlessness, and developed a volatile temper. The paradox of this situation was that even while I felt inadequate, my progress, as monitored by Dr. Gunkle, seemed satisfactory. Tempers sometimes grew 18 short, which resulted in some memorable moments. One night, for example, when the frustration of dealing with Joe became too great, I exploded, sending a bench we were using as a coffee table flying about ten feet. Fortuna­ tely, except for my cut hand, no one was hurt. The turning point for me came the last week of rehearsals, just before our opening. I started feeling secure in my role and towards other cast members. By the third or fourth performance the role wrapped about me like a warm blanket. Scenes on stage flowed without effort and I felt thoroughly immersed in my role. I reached a point in performance where I began to savor little moments in each scene. Sometimes these were small transitions; at other times, it took the form of eye contact with other actors in reactions formerly overlooked. Often they happened to be lines never before fully explored or appreciated. It was then that the role of Tom Moody became totally satisfying for me both on and off stage. The final state of actualization occurred for me shortly thereafter. I felt a great pride in having suc­ cessfully coped with a challenging role, which I believe forced a perceptible advancement in my acting skills. After this experience, I expect that the traditional rehearsal routine would prove far less satisfying. I have absorbed techniques which are now a permanent part 19 of my approach to characterization. I must express my gratitude towards the cast and the director for helping me create a role which has become one of my memorable achievements. 20

APPENDIX A

THEATRE 496L: RESEARCH AREAS AND ASSIGNMENTS

By George Gunkle THEATRE 496L: RESEARCH AREAS AND ASSIGNMENTS

AREA NO. AREA TITLE RESEARCHERS SOURCE POSSIBILITIES REPORT FOHM

1. The Depression: impact on the Bob Hollander Library, interviews with Research paper average person (in NYC especially) Larry Barton source persons

2. Everyday life in NYC in 1937 Cathy Thomas Library, interviews with Research paper Jackie Stein source persons Ann \~ebb Larry Barton Todd Kutchen

3. Typical jobs in NYC in 1937 (must Larry Barton Library, interviews with Research paper ±ncl. taxi driver, candy store Mike Lanzarone source persons owner, United Cigar Store clerk, fruit wagon owner)

4. The Italian immigrant in NYC in Ahmed Elkinawy Library, interviews with Research paper the 1930's Jackie Stein source persons Javad Pishvaie s. The Jewish immigrant in NYC in Tod Greeniaus Library, interviews with Research paper the 1930's Gary Saperstein source persons

6. The boxing world in the 1930's: Bob Hollander Library, interviews with Research paper organization, finance, etc. Mike Jordan source persons

7. The boxing world in the 1930's: Rob Rothrock Library, interviews with Research paper training, the art of boxing Jer'rise Jennings source persons, Greg Hamlin Ed Cardoza Curtis Yomtob

8. Prominent boxers of the 1930's Rob Rothrock Library, interviews with Research paper source :;~;..:;ons

9. Field trips and field studies of Cathy Thomas Boxing arenas, gymnasiums, Research paper . boxing on the contemporary Los Steve Weingartner m~nager's offices, Greg Angeles scene (visiting gyms, !lob Hollander Hamlin interviewing boxers, attending Rob Rothrock fights, etc.) Jer'rise Jennings Ted Greeniaus Ed Cardoza Curt Yomtob Wade Buckingham

t.J ...... THEATRE 496L: RESEARCH AREAS AND ASSIGNMENTS (Cont.)

AREA NO. AREA TITLE RESEARCHERS SOURCE POSSIBILITIES REPORT FORM 10. Criminals, the Underworld in 1937 Ahmed Elkinawy Library, possible F.B.I./ Research paper Barbara Hancock police sources Bill Eigenbrodt Wade Buckingham

11. The newspaper.reporter in NYC Mike Jordan Library, interviews with Research paper in 1937 source persons

12. Music in the 1930's Bill Eigenbrodt Library, collections of Research paper, old records in record tapes & records shops, musicians

13. The labor movement in the 1930's Javad Pishvaie Library, interviews with Research paper (emphasis upon the CIO) Michael Jordan source persons

14. Automobiles of the 1930's Gary Saperstein Library Scrapbook with graphics and text

15. Clothing, hair styles, and personal Cathy Thomas Library, John Furman Scrapbook with grooming among men & women in 1937 Ann Webb graphics and Todd Kitches text Bill Eigenbrodt

16. Slang of the 1930's Ann Webb Library Research paper

17. New York City dialect Jackie Stein Native speakers, GG, Tapes Bob H., Gary S.

18. NYC-Jewish dialect Ted Greeniaus Native speakers, GG, Tapes Todd Kutches Larry Barton

19. Italian accent Ahmed Elkinawy Native speakers, GG Tapes Mike Lanznron~ Javad Pishvaie

20. NYC points of interest (incl. 5th Mike Lanzarone Library, natives of NYC Research paper Ave. Library, Washington Bridge Gary Saperstein with maps Triboro bridge)

21. Reading materials of aspiring Steve Weingartner Library Research paper immigrants (incl. Encycl. Brittanica, Schopenhauer)

N 1\J THEATRE 496L: RESEARCH AREAS AND ASSIGNMENTS (Cont.)

AREA NO. AREA TITLE RESEARCHERS SOURCE POSSIBILITIES REPORT FORN

22. Scenes and props of the 1930's Jer'risc Jennings Library Scrapbook•with Curtis Yomtob graphics and text

OTHER: Auxiliary pr~duction history, Barbara Hancock Library Research paper, improvisation assistant rehearsal log

tv w 24

APPENDIX B

SOME USES OF IMPROVISATION By George Gunkle I conceptualize improvisation to be something different from "theatre games." The latter I think of as an almost endless array of activities designed to promote actor growth in a general way, i.e., removed from the context of any actor's work on any particular play. "Improvisation," however, as I use it, refers to an array of activities all of which grow out of the context of actors working on a particular play. These are some of the things I believe improvi­ sation does: 1. Gets actors relatively quickly into a creative state. Helps warm-up the imagination. In this sense, something to use right at the beginning of rehearsals. 2. Helps actors focus attention on creativity at the subtextual level. Improvs of this sort are inspired by actions and relationships in the text but need not use the playtext directly. 3. Helps build characterization by developing backlife. Improvs here are characterized by hints in the text of earlier events and relationships among characters prior to the onset of the play. 4. Helps build characterization by exploring relationships between characters. This type of improvi- sation usually involves dyads, with emphasis upon inter­ character sensitivity. Actors are encouraged to see how others make them feel and to experiment with emphasizing different personality characteristics. 5. Facilitates director diagnosis of actor problems and ensemble problems. By removing all the problems {artifacts) associated with book-in-hand rehearsals, other problems become easy to identify very much sooner in the rehearsal process. 25

6. Helps develop good habits of actor concen- tration. Here, the usual causes for breaking concen- tration are absent (reading aloud from text, etc.) and the director may elect to become totally non-interfering for long periods of time.

7. Helps solve specific problems growing out of specific actor confronting specific character.

8. Provides a natural path for gradually increasing fidelity to the script. The "improv. parallel" is the vehicle here, where only basic actions are rehearsed to begin with, and gradually more and more of the exact lines are used in the exact sequence. This method permits the rehearsal period to be entirely free of "book-in-hand."

9. Helps develop enriched stage business, blocking, floor plan, etc. By removing the expectation that the director will supply all the answers, the actors' imaginations are challenged to make discoveries throughout the rehearsal period. It becomes a quick and easy matter to "tune up" these discoveries, or to help a group over a "hump."

10. Synthesizes, personalizes, and vivifies research information. The actor feeds his own research into the general group. Through improvisation, the infor­ mation is tested and transmuted in some way into the art­ work.

11. Promotes actor-actor and actor-director trust and understanding. Through guidance by the director, actors join to help each other in overcoming certain prob­ lems. The director becomes a totally supportive collabora­ tor. By acknowledging problems, as well as dealing with them, the group becomes a highly cohesive force.

12. Ensures enormous security in performance. Improvisation, through continuous emphasis upon sponta­ neity, develops the ability of actors to deal with the unexpected in performance without panic. In effect, the ensemble grabs hold of a play at a level much deeper than the surface lines or simple pattern of activities. This reduces many of the more common anxieties of actors.

13. Encourages the reduction or elimination of negative feedback. Explorations through improvisation become positive and exciting experiences. As problems are found, solutions through improvisation are usually accom­ panied by the joy of creating to new and different "rules" 26 set up by the director. A large variety of actor problems seem to be susceptible to this approach: Changing the rules of the "game." As "rules" vary, many problems gradually disappear. 27

APPENDIX C

SOME GUIDELINES FOR REHEARSING WHEN IMPROVISATION IS USED By George Gunkle

1. Be open to what you receive from others during improvisation. Don't judge. Don't expect. Don't be disappointed. Don't chafe. And don't "direct." (That's ~job.)

2. De-emphasize facts. Don~t go for "factual" exchanges with others. Let the gradually accumulating factual underpinning of the play and the characters emerge in a natural way. If a "fact is ready to emerge, it will. If it isn't there, substitute an imaginative fact and play it with conviction. If you know someone else's "fact" to be wrong, deal with it in such a way as to permit the improvisation to continue. Don't let yourself be "thrown."

3. Don't define others in a conscious, verbal way. Let the "facts" about others be manipulated primarily by them. However, you will be defining others by the way you treat them, and you will experience being defined by the way others treat you.

4. Don't "play-write." When you enter the imagina­ tive space, try to be spontaneous as possible. Your aim should be to be instantaneously responsive to every change you see and hear in the other person. In a curious way, it is nevertheless true that the more you focus on others (the more you turn your attention away from your own character) the more your own character will emerge.

5. Lose yourself fully in the imaginative situa­ tion. Maximize your ability to "believe" in persons and events in the imaginative space. And don't judge yourself or others afterwards. (That's~ job.)

6. As a rule, avoid physical contact in improvi­ sation. Exceptions to this will be specifically communi­ cated by me for specific purposes.

7. Remember that everyone has a right to try out a wide range of behavior as he/she explores character. At early stages of improvisation, it is perhaps most important to discover, by direct experience, that something doesn't 28 feel right so that in subsequent improvisations, new avenues can be explored. 8. Enjoy experimenting. Be bold. There doesn't have to be any carryover from one improvisation to the next. You don't have to live with something that just happened to come up once in an improvisation. Remember that only too soon you will gradually focus down into what the playwright has chosen to show the audience about your character. Improvisation is a way of finding and experi­ encing the missing pieces of the puzzle, pieces which the playwright, for reasons of economy, hasn't included in the formal playtext. Ultimately, when you do play the play­ wright's scenes before the audience, they should be enriched with resonance and dimensionality of the more full character you have developed through improvisation. 9. Suspend that portion of cognitive activity that leads to "logic" about human behavior and human relation­ ships. If we wanted to converse and build up a picture of characters and scenes through language, we wouldn't be engaging in improvisation. This method of rehearsal--for me, at any rate--is the antithesis of "round-table discussion." The whole point of improvisation as a rehearsal technique is to avoid the simplifications of understanding that inevitably occur when we try to force "life" into oversimple pigeonholes of language. If you are improvising well--and acting well-­ what you show us about the character is too complex to be summarized in language. (Can you summarize yourself in a satisfactory way?) For us, then, "talk" about characters will be used most sparingly and only as an occasional starting point. The ending point--if there ever is one--is not better ways of talking but rather exciting acting, acting which--like you and me--cannot be summarized adequately in language. As I observe your progress, I will be "shaping" you and your relationships with other characters and my own vision of the play from something deeper inside of me, something non-rational but having its own coherence. 10. Remember that the reasons for any particular improvisation may be various. (See the attached list, for example.) Whenever I ask you to engage in improvisation, I will always have reasons, objectives, often a number of 29 aims that can be accomplished simultaneously. If I do not always share with you what is on my mind when we start an improvisation that will only happen when I feel that I can promote your growth better by keeping my aims to myself. (Some "deficiencies" are best outgrown by ignoring them and focusing attention elsewhere.) A FINAL NOTE: The persons who may have the most difficulty with these methods are those who have come to attach too much value to the analysis of character through language. 30

APPENDIX D

Name Date

IMPROVISATION PROGRESS REPORT RESPONSIVENESS Notices, watches, changes as others change~ generally very focused on what is happening all around. DETACHMENT FROM JUDGMENT Avoids judging what others do according to some im­ plicit standard of expectation; remains free enough to go along with whatever happens in an improvisa­ tion~ realizes that "disappointment" in what others do in an improvisation has no place in this way of working. CONCENTRATION Tunes out everything external to the improvisation that might otherwise distract~ avoids self-conscious­ ness~ maintains a strong sense of character for long periods of time. SPONTANEITY Doesn't "plan;" avoids "monitoring" or "censoring" behavior; allows expression of whatever rises to the surface in a natural way. CREATIVITY Is in touch with the "child" within~ produces behav­ ior that is exciting and unpredictable yet valid for character development.

DETACa~ENT FROM LANGUAGE & LOGIC Avoids reducing experience to language~ avoids imposing "logic" upon situations; allows information to influence behavior in a natural way; is sensitive to a greater complexity about human relations than can be summarized easily in language. TRUST Trusts this way of working~ trusts the guidance that is given~ trusts fellow actors~ trusts the artistic value of the playtext; believes in the importance of the artistic mission. 31

EXPLORATION Actively explores relationships in an improvisation~ takes responsibility for gaining something from each experience; tends to learn and get new insights from each improvisation. FREEDOM FROM STEREOTYPES Tends naturally to avoid stereotypes~ does not hide behind "masks" of social role playing DEVELOPMENT OF CHARACTER Evolving a character at an appropriate rate

1 = satisfactory 2 = needs a bit more effort or more insight

3 = some problems here~ would be best to consult with instructor 32

APPENDIX E

ROBERT T. HOLLANDER Theatre 496 October 6, 1980

FIELD TRIP REPORT On Saturday, October 4th, a number of us visited the Main Street Gym, located on 3rd and Main in the down­ town Los Angeles area. This gym was selected because it is the oldest and most famous boxing gym in Los Angeles. 3rd and Main is a skid row area, populated by derelicts. The streets are dirty and smell of urine. Signs in Spanish are everywhere. Boxing posters and box­ ing magazines are prominently displayed in shop windows. The gym is located one flight up and the admission charge to visitors, other than club members, is a dollar. As we walked in, we were impressed by the noise and acti­ vity. On one side of the room was a triple row of bleachers and we sat there. The all wooden floor was well worn and there was no sign of the kind of mats we usually expect to find in gyms. There was a row of 4 heavy punch­ ing bags, thoroughly taped, and another row of 4 speed bags along the wall near the windows. All bags were being used and a number of other fighters were doing calisthe­ nics, skipping rope and posturing before two full-length mirrors which were mounted on opposite sides of the room. Posters of current and historically major fights proliferated all over the walls, including one gigantic poster of the first Joe Louis-Max Schmelling fight in Yankees Stadium on Wed., June 22, 1936 at 8 p.m. Tickets for this fight were advertised as ranging between $30.00 and $5.75. There were also cut-outs of the great fighters and some photographs hanging from the walls. Every three minutes, which coincides with the length of a round, bells would ring. Activity would then cease and at times there was some rotational use of equip­ ment. After a rest period of one minute or so, the bells rang again and activity resumed. The fighters all appeared very serious about their workouts. There were trainers circulating who would stop and give instructions to some of the fighters but there was no noticeable con­ versation between fighters. 33

On the far side of the room were two boxing rings which were periodically used by some of the better fighters. In a number of sparring sessions, fighters wore only one glove. Obviously these fighters were concentrat­ ing on jabbing and not on throwing punches. The fighters came in all colors, sizes and shapes. There were a lot of fighters present who were apparently from South American and Central American countries. There was even a young boy about 10 to 12 years old working out as earnestly and with as much single-minded determination as his older counterparts. During our stay there that morning, we met a manager-trainer by the name of W. Paddy Millon, and I met and spoke to a sportswriter for one of the Spanish boxing magazines or newspapers. He refused to identify himself because he talked to me about the shady side of boxing and he wasn't too sure who I was. Some of this interview I will include in my second report on the organization of the boxing world. 34

APPENDIX F

ROBERT T. HOLLANDER Theatre 496 October 31, 1980

BOXING AT THE OLYMPIC

On October 30th, we went down to the Olympic auditorium located at Washington Blvd. and Grant Street to see the fights scheduled regularly every Thursday evening. Ticket prices ranged between five and ten dollars.

Entrances prominently displayed signs prohibit­ ing fight fans from bringing bottles or cans into the auditorium. {We found out why later in the evening.) Some patrons were actually "frisked" as they entered. Police were everywhere. The atmosphere was highly charged but not much different from most other sporting events I've attended.

Inside we found the crowd large and boisterous. The auditorium was more than half filled. I judged approximately 5,000 in attendance, mostly men. Everyone seemed to smoke. Clouds of smoke churned up from the audience all evening. Vendors serviced the aisles and sold beer in paper cups.

The programs, which cost a quarter, listed the evening's fights. The first fight of the evening was the Lopez-Olmos bout and the evening's card ended with the Flores-Ibarra mop-up. {We did not stay for the last fight but left with the majority of the audience after the main event.) The program also promoted the coming events sched­ uled for the next two weeks. Interestingly, the program contained a substitution for an injured fighter named Joey Olivo in next week's bout. {In Golden Boy, Joe Bonaparte in his first fight, replaces an injured fighter.)

The first fight of the evening was a six round preliminary between a very aggressive, hard-hitting new­ comer, Gus Olmos, and Frank Lopez who lost the decision. Lopez was repeatedly knocked to the canvas during the bout. Except for two separate fights which broke out in the audience and brought the crowd to its feet and the police converging, this bout was a rather routine one, much less exciting than the ones which followed. 35

The second fight of the evening was an exciting match which ended in the third round with a knockout of Jose Luis Valente by an undefeated Jaime Garza. After the bout, which was popularly received by the crowd, we saw Garza being interviewed by Channel 2's "Two On The Town" reporter, Steve Edwards. The third fight ended in a disaster. This was a scheduled ten rounder between an experienced southpaw, Chuey Rodriguez and sensational undefeated Tony Baltazar. The fight was called a draw after only a few rounds, but not before several foul calls, a butting which opened a gash in Rodriguez's forehead, several blows sustained by the referee and a full fledged riot by an aroused crowd. Seemingly, everything available was hurled into the ring by the roaring crowd. Ringsiders, who bore the brunt of this attack, fled their seats. The fight was stopped. It was called a draw. Fighters and referees were hustled out of the ring and out of the auditorium. Before the main event, a couple of well known and popular fighters were introduced by a tuxedo-clad ring announcer: Carlo Palomino, Welterweight Champion, and Johnny Red Lopez, former champion and top contender. Both entered the ring, waved to the crowd, shook hands with the main event fighters and trainers and returned to their seats. The main event of the evening was a ten rounder between a popular local favorite, Gigio Estrada and a smooth black boxer named Cal Shepard. Shepard proved to be unpopular with the crowd since he refused to cave in to the haymakers thrown by his opponent. The crowd grew restive as their favorite seemed stymied. They urged him on by whistling, chanting, and stamping their feet. Each demonstration seemed to bring renewed vigor to Estrada. Two foul calls on him by the referee again brought the crowd to its feet and an avalanche of thrown debris. This time order was restored and the bout continued. It ended with an unpopular decision for Shepard. This proved to be an entertaining and exciting evening. We plan to come back to the Olympic again as our schedules permit. 36

APPENDIX G

ROBERT T. HOLLANDER Theatre 496 October 9, 1980

THE GREAT DEPRESSION Economic activity in the u.s. started to slow down as early as 1928, bringing to an end a prosperous economic period which started after World War I. The slowdown started as over-production, a result of efficiencies brought about by mass production, outstripped the buying power of consumers. This resulted in huge inventories of unsold goods, causing lay-offs, resulting in less purchasing power, and causing more lay-offs. The stock market crash of 1929, in which investors lost 74 billion dollars, did not cause the Depression of the thirties, but only reflected the economic problems which were developing. By 1932, the country's Gross National Product had fallen from 104 billion dollars to only 41 billion.

Historians seem to agree that 1932 marked the depths of the Depression when approximately 13-15 million Americans were out of work. Figures about unemployment were not exact because there were no records kept at this time. There were no records kept because there were no unemployment insurance programs. Estimates are that almost one-third of the population were without any income whatsoever.

Generally speaking, the Depression lasted until 1940. There was a minor economic revival in 1937-'38 but even in 1940 there were still about 10,000,000 unemployed. This indicated some improvement in the economy from its depths in 1932 but the improvement was quite modest in scope.

Unfortunately, the policies of the Hoover adminis­ tration, which considered the Depression a sort of morale problem, and a public relations matter, not only failed to do any good but made matters worse. The election of Franklin D. Roosevelt in 1932, a landslide victory, reflected the country's demand that something be done. Roosevelt admitted that he did not have all the answers, but he pledged his administration would actively pursue any idea that had a chance of success. It was ominous 37 that the day FDR took office on March 4, 1933, the banking system of the u.s. stood on the edge of collapse. More than 5,000 American banks had failed. Panic spread every­ where. With a number of legislative and executive moves, disaster was averted. The financial crisis ended and the country started the long, arduous road to recovery. By 1932, more than 86,000 American businesses had closed their doors including the following manufac­ turers of automobiles: Stutz Motor Co., the Auburn, the Cord, Edward Peerless, Pierce Arrow, the Franklin, the Durant, the Locomobile and the Duesenberg. (4,34) (The Duesenberg is the make of car Joe Bonaparte buys for $5,000. Since the company went out of business in 1932, Joe's car had to be at least 4-5 years old.) In 1932 alone, 273,000 families were evicted from their homes. In New York there was hardly a block without a daily dispossession. Eventually, things got so bad that the landlords practiced an informal moratorium on evictions of unemployed tenants since new paying tenants could not be found anyway. Massive unemployment resulted in massive wage cuts. Miners were paid $10.88/mo. Department stores paid clerks $5/wk. Working girls were getting from 10 cents to 25 cents an hour. In the sweatshops of Brooklyn, teen­ agers made $2.78/wk. Women were paid $2.39 for a fifty hour week. Hat makers made 40 cents a day. Apron girls made 20 cents a day. Cleaners in pants factories earned $1/day. ( 4, 37-38) • New York drew countless job seekers from surround­ ing states, though the city had a million jobless of its own. There were 7,000 nickel-a-shoeshine boys in N.Y. There were 82 breadlines. Flophouses cost a dime a night. Among the skilled trades, where there is usually a shortage of workers, there were more than 20 applicants for each job opening. Welfare, when and where it was still available, only amounted to a couple of dollars a week. In Detroit a family of four received only 60 cents a week on welfare. Some cities were bankrupt. Civil servants were not always paid. Millions stayed alive by living like animals. Families were seen plunging into refuse dumps. Homeless men prowled garbage cans looking for morsels of rotten food. The middle class bore the brunt of this Depression. As a class it almost disappeared. Many professionals 38

worked, when they could, on the most menial levels. Men were demoralized. The jobless were suffering from feelings of guilt. The unemployed husband-father was overwhelmed with his feeling of failure and despised himself for his inadequacies. Suicide was a common occurrence. Since poverty was considered shameful, people tried to conceal it from their neighbors. The man of the house, who left early in the morning may not have had a job to go to. He may have spent his day looking for work, day after day, or year after year. Impoverished families became ingenius both at concealing their plight and at cutting costs trying to live on meager budgets.

Surprisingly, there were some businesses that did very well. Movies became very popular. One half the popu­ lation was going to the movies once a week. The usual admission for adults was a quarter, for children, a dime. Radio sales were excellent, Kelvinator refrigerators sold well, and contraceptives were netting a quarter-billion dollars a year. Miniature golf courses and circulation libraries were very popular. The Fuller brush man made a living as did Harold Clurman and the actors of the Group Theatre.

In my next report, I will go into more detail about the quality of life and how people coped during this terrible era in American history.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

1= Brooks, John. Once in Golconda: A True Drama of Wall Street 1920-1938. New York: Harper and Row, Publishers, 1969.

2. Clurman, Harold. The Fervent Years: The Story of the Group Theatre and the Thirties. New York: Harcourt, Brace, Jovanovich, A Harvest Book, 1975.

3. Gruver, Rebecca Brooks. An American History. New York: Meredith Corp., 1972.

4. Manchester, William. The Glory and the Dream: A Narrative History of America 1932-1972. Boston: Little, Brown and Co., 1974. 39

APPENDIX H

ROBERT T. HOLLANDER Theatre 496 November 7, 1980

LIFE DURING THE DEPRESSION In the average American home of the thirties, appliances and gadgets were rare. Most homes were heated by hand-stoken hot air furnaces, which had to be tended twice daily. These furnaces used coal, which was delivered by a "grimy" man who backed his truck to a cellar window and emptied coal down a chute into a bin. Refrigerators usually meant an icebox, filled by an iceman. Toasters were a luxury, for in most homes bread was singed in a coal or wood-burning stove which also was used to heat water for bathing in homes without hot water. Phonographs were wound by hand and they were called Victrolas. The housewife who owned a carpet sweeper was considered to be a lucky woman. Millions of urban house­ wives had only a washboard to cope with the family laundry. For many people, the 1930s was considered to be a time when criminals flourished. At no other time in American history was there such public tolerance of violence. Prohibition was repealed and now the bootleggers became bank robbers. Public enemies like John Dillinger, "Pretty Boy" Floyd, "Baby Face" Nelson, "Ma" Barker, "Machine Gun" Kelly, and Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow were considered folkheroes on a par with Robin Hood. Gangster movies were extremely popular. Hollywood was churning out fifty a year, most of them casting crime in a romantic light. To counter this, J. Edgar Hoover, Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, opened his files in 1934 to the producers of the movie "G-Men," starring James Cagney as an FBI agent. On radio, the shows "Gangbusters" and "Dick Tracy" were extremely popular. The Depression increased all family activities. The most popular family recreations were ping-pong, jigsaw puzzles, checkers, parlor games, bridge and, most of all, listening to the radio. The radio was the most prominent piece of furniture in the living room. It was likely to be a rococo console in high Grand Rapids style. Network pro­ grams were scheduled around the family. Mother's serials came during the day, the children's hour came between 5-6 40

p.m. and the news, comic shows and variety programs were scheduled for the evening.

The other great family activity in the thirties was going to the movies. Eight-five million Americans went to the movies once a week. The average family annual movie budget was $25. There were 17,000 theatres in the country, more than there were banks, twice as many as there were hotels, and three times as many as there were department stores. Theatre owners showed between a hundred to four hundred films a year. Censorship as represented by the Hays Office, the Breen Office and in 1934 by the Catholic League of Decency made sure that Americans saw "wholesome" movies. This censorship reflected the needs of the public to seek escapism in films rather than realism. (4,120)

The double feature was the usual format. On Satur­ days there was a serial and "selected short subjects". There may have been a Terrytoon cartoon with a Pathe' news­ reel, a Thelma Todd-Patsy Kelly comedy, and a Fitzgerald Travel-talk. There were promotional evenings like bank night, dish nights, and bingo night. Always there was a great deal of amorous play in the back rows of darkened cinemas. For adolescents, sex was the most forbidden of all subjects. The treatment of sex information virtually assured massive guilt feelings. Every growing boy knew the prevailing myths: Masturbation led to brain damage and to the growth of hair on the palms of his hands. Mean­ while, girls worried about their reputations. The approved roles of the sexes were sharply divided in adolescence. Girls did only things that they were supposed to do, while boys did everything else.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

1. Brooks, John. Once in Golconda: A True Drama of Wall Street 1920-1938. New York: Harper and Row, Publishers, 1969.

2. Clurman, Harold. The Fervent Years: The Story of the Group Theatre and the Thirties. New York: Harcourt, Brace, Jovanovich, A Harvest Book, 1975. 3. Gruver, Rebecca Brooks. An American History. New York: Meredith Corp., 1972.

4. Manchester, William. The Glory and the Dream: A Narrative History of America 1932-1972. Boston: Little, Brown and Co., 1974. 41

APPENDIX I

ROBERT T. HOLLANDER Theatre 496 October 8, 1980

THE BOXING WORLD OF THE 1930s Although there is a great deal of written infor­ mation available about the great fights and fighters of the 1920s and 1930s, there is very little on the organi­ zation and structure of the boxing world. I found only a few tidbits in Nat Fleischer's gossipy account of his view of boxing as editor of Ring Magazine. Apparently, the biggest name in boxing circles prior to his death in 1929 was Tex Rickard, the promoter. Rickard was the president of the old Madison Square Garden and was the acknowledged king in boxing circles. His career took off in 1910 when he guaranteed Jim Jeffries $101,000 to come out of retirement to fight the current champion at the time, Jack Johnson. This promotion resul­ ted in the first of many big gate attractions as boxing, because of Rickard's promotions, became big business. Rickard's successor in the 1930s was Mike Jacobs, who was responsible for putting together, among other great fights, the Louis-Schmelling fights of 1936 and 1937 and the highly touted "dream promotion," the Carnival of Champions in 1937. (1,107) Unfortunately, this promotion, which put together four champions on one bill, and was considered by many to be Jacobs' greatest promotion, lost money. (2,141) Fleischer goes into some detail about the owner­ ship arrangement between Max Schmelling, the great German champion, and Arthur Buelow, his manager. Buelow appar­ ently owned one-third of Schmelling, which was, and still is, a standard percentage. Because he felt that Fleischer, as Editor of of Ring Magazine, was an important American contact, Schmelling insisted that Fleischer accept a 10% ownership. Later on, relations became strained between Schmelling and his manager. An outside group headed by a Joe Jacobs, attempted to buy out Fleischer, who refused to part with his 10%. Concurrent­ ly, Schmelling cut off Buelow who threatened to go to court and as a result received a settlement of $39,000. Fleischer's share of Schmelling's $4,000,000 in gross 42

receipts in his American campaign, would have resulted in $220,000, had he chosen to exercise his 10% rights. (2,135)

A more detailed analysis of the fighter-manager­ trainer relationship will follow in my next reporto I hope to confirm and expand on the results of my first two inter­ views, one with a manager-trainer, W. Paddy Millon, and the second with a sportswriter who preferred to remain anonymous. I expect to cover such areas as the manager's duties and responsibilities, ownership agreements, and the kinds of problems managers have with their fighters.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

1. Britannica Book of the Year, 1938. Ed. Franklin H. Hooper and Walter Yust. Chicago: Encyclo­ pedias Britannica, Inc., 1938.

2. Fleischer, Nat. 50 Years at Ringside. New York: Greenwood Press, Publishing, 1969. 43

APPENDIX J

ROBERT T. HOLLANDER Theatre 496 November 3, 1980

THE BOXING WORLD OF THE THIRTIES This report is based on the results of interviews with three men who have been associated with boxing for many years. The first, w. Paddy Millon, started boxing pro­ fessionally in the late 1930s, but because of an indus­ trial accident outside of the ring, in which he lost some fingers on his right hand, he quit boxing to become a trainer and manager. The second, a sportswriter for one of th~ Spanish publications in town, preferred to remain anonymous. The third is a gentleman by the name of Noble "Kid" Chissell. "Kid" Chissell is the Master of Ceremonies and Vice-President of the Los Angeles Cauliflower Alley Club. He started his fighting career in 1921, and for the next 16 years the "Kid", who in 1932 was the U.S. Navy Middleweight Champion, fought professionally throughout the country. After hanging up his gloves in 1937, the "Kid" became associated with films and later on, TV. He taught actors how to box, choreographed fight scenes and even appeared in minor roles. He says he was narrowly beaten out of the role of Joe Bonaparte in the movie Golden Boy by "some actor named William Holden." There were only minor inconsistencies evident in the information I received from these interviews. What did surface was an inside picture of the management aspects of boxing, which I found very helpful to my understanding of the role of Tom Moody. All good professional fighters need a manager and a trainer. Not all fighters have both. Some managers, for example, also train their fighters. An ownership agreement initially may be verbal, but usually is written into a formal contract. (Exceptions occur in the case of fighters who are still minors.) This contract is for a specified time period and is filed with the State Boxing Commission's office. All contractual changes must be recorded and approved by the commissioner's office. Prior to the early 1930s, there was little or no supervision by boxing commissioners. However, after 1934, in order to try 44 to correct abuses and prevent control by gangsters, boxing became more structured and supervised. Traditionally, managers received one-quarter to one-third of their fighter's earnings. If there was a separate trainer, he received an additional 10%. The manager controlled expenses, kept the books and made the cash split after all expenses were taken out of the purse. Some managers received as much as 50% of their fighter's earnings if they also paid for his room and board and personal expenses. Promotersare now prohibited from managing fighters, although this was not always the case. "Cut men" and "seconds" are paid for by promoters and are available to both fighters. Also, referees, the doctor and the ring announcers are all paid by the promoters. Managers are generally businessmen. Many have out­ side businesses and incomes. Some own a stable of half a dozen to a dozen fighters. Some own only one fighter. Managers are responsible for getting fights for their fighters. They must negotiate with promoters in order to get these fights. In many cases, with unscrupulous pro­ moters, there are kickbacks paid by managers. The manager must make sure his fighter is ready for his fight, that he is well trained and in top shape. The manager is responsible to bring his fighter along, to develop him, to keep him from being overmatched and hurt. A good fighter is a valuable asset and must be treated as such. Some fighters become major problems for their managers. There are those who are lazy and do not like to train. Others may have drinking problems, and some have girl problems. (The girl problems can become very serious when the fighter is already married.) Generally, fighters come from the lower socio-economic levels of society and, consequently, can have problems with the police or legal problems of other kinds. A really major problem is when personal difficulties arise between managers and their fighters and relationships are shattered. Broken contracts usually follow. The boxing community has always had problems with the illegal element. From the early days of boxing, gang­ sters have attempted, quite successfully in many cases, to control the outcome of fights and to muscle in on legiti­ mate contenders. When gangsters become backers of a particular fighter, life can become much easier for that 45 fighter. Tough fights sometimes have a way of becoming easier. Eventually, though, there is a day of reckoning and the previously favored fighter may be politely requested to "take a dive." After benefiting from their previous relationship with the underworld, few fighters would take the risk of not honoring such a request. Fight cards in the 1930s usually consisted of a four round preliminary as an opener for which the fighter would be paid about $25. A six round special sometimes followed, which earned each fighter about $75. Prior to the main event, there was an eight or ten round semi-windup worth about $125 to each fighter. The main event was a ten round bout. These fights were negotia­ ted. A fighter's share of the main event purse could be as much as $250 to $500. Contenders earned more and championship fights, with the much greater gate receipts, resulted in purses exceeding $20,000. Promoters had to guarantee minimum purses in order to put together these matches.