ERIN SCHREINER Printing the Screenplay in Hollywood and Beyond

In 1957, Jean Shepard shifted gears in her theatrical career. Both she Erin Schreiner is a bibliographer and her business partner, Patricia Scott, had young children and, while living in New York City. Since 2008 she has worked with private and they found work, they weren’t earning quite enough to make ends meet. institutional collectors to describe, The business they opened, Studio Duplicating Service, was dedicated arrange, exhibit, and teach with their to the production of scripts for film, television, and theater. It began collections. At the New York Society humbly on East 9th Street with a couple of typewriters and an A. B. Library, she designed and launched City Readers, a digital humanities tool Dick mimeograph machine. Although Scott left the business after for the study of the Library’s institu­ a few years, Shepard stuck with it and succeeded. For the next forty tional archive. Erin writes regularly years, the shop supplied New York’s entertainment industry with the about bibliography, the history of reading, and the rare book world for lion’s share of the scripts produced by a rotating crop of aspiring film online publications, including Atlas and stage professionals who proofread, typed, printed, and bound the Obscura and LitHub. urtexts of plays, movies, and television shows.

28 Printed screenplays are an essential component of the filmmaking process, and print professionals were a critical labor force for the film industry throughout the twentieth century. Under the Hollywood studio system (ca. 1920-1948), juggernauts like MGM, Paramount, and RKO staffed their scenario, story, and stenographic departments with secretaries, typists, and mimeograph machine operators who printed for the entire studio. When the system collapsed, script production moved in part to independent businesses like Studio Duplicating Ser­ vice in New York and Barbaras Place in Los Angeles. In both settings, the people behind the typewriter and cranking the mimeo machine were engaged in a form of printerly labor that, until now, has been largely overlooked, in part because secretarial and clerical labor has been falsely defined as unskilled in the twentieth century. This article is concerned with the work done by secretaries and typists in Hollywood studios and at Studio Duplicating Service, and the impact of the shift in sites of production. By looking more closely the work done and materials produced by typists and secretaries in the film industry, we can begin to understand their labor as highly skilled, and as crucial to the process of textual creation in cinema.

Script Printing In The Studio Era While the management and organization of printing operations var­ ied slightly from studio to studio, the labor of secretaries, typists, and mimeographers was consistent throughout Hollywood. As Erin Hill reports in Never Done: A History of Women’s Work in Media Production, sources documenting the growth, size, and functions of stenographic departments in Hollywood studios are rare, and her research draws heavily on internal studio publications like Warner Club News and

RKO Club News for information on working conditions. 1 In a 1941 piece for RKO Club News, stereographic department super­ visor Wynne Haslam described her work with fifty or so typists who were the studios primary producers of printed matter. The women in opposite left: A script for the these departments—who were overwhelmingly white and female— film adaptation of Candy, by novelist Terry Southern in Studio Duplicating were responsible for “typing, proofreading, and assembling scripts, as Service’s characteristic faux-leather well as mimeographing departmental forms and legal agreements, and wrapper. Courtesy of Robert M. [issuing] a catalog of company-owned stories twice per year.” 2 Rubin. Secretaries working with Hollywood screenwriters prepared print­ opposite right: A script for er s copy for the steno pool, taking dictation and sometimes even the 1976 film Network by Paddy collaborating with a screenwriter to craft their story. In her memoir, Chayefsky printed in 1975 by the Hollywood secretary and script supervisor Meta Carpenter described Studio Duplicating Service, in the shop’s hallmark faux-leather wrapper. working in New York with Ben Hecht and Charles MacArthur on the Courtesy of Robert M. Rubin. script for Barbary Coast in 1935.

PRINTING THE SCREENPLAY 2-9 For five months, I took down the dialogue and plot turns that Hecht and MacArthur dictated in rapid-fire fashion, MacArthur laying on the floor, feet on the couch, as he topped Hecht or was eclipsed by his collaborator with brilliant speeches, sight gags, and dramatic invention. In the last weeks, they took off the jester’s bells and gave us a tight, well constructed script, though I knew by then that Howard Hawks never filmed a screenplay as written.3

In this madcap environment, Carpenter was responsible for translat­ ing the screenwriter’s antics into text that they would review, correct, and return to her for retyping. She also notes an instance in which she pointed out a narrative inconsistency while working with William Faulkner. Secretaries were largely responsible for keeping up with con­ tinuity during the screenwriting process. In a 1936 article for the New York Times, studio secretaries were described as the guiding hands to screenwriters, who knew “all about screen technique, camera angles, exits, suspense, climax, and the clinch and fade-out to full orchestra music.• » 4 Carpenter noted that when she worked with William Faulkner on The Road to Glory, “the finished script was sent to the secretarial pool to be retyped and mimeographed.”5 Typists produced mimeograph sten­ cils from the copy they received from secretaries. Like typesetters and compositors, typists were responsible for creating the physical object from which many sheets were printed. The work required technical know-how, not only of the machines and materials they worked with but also the graphic conventions for scripts. These women were the resident experts in conventions for scene numbering, camera directions, dialogue, and other dramatic notations. A mistake on the stencil would have appeared in every copy of the script, and a major error could lead to real consequences in film production, which was expensive and relied on the cooperation of hundreds of studio staff members in a variety of departments. W hen movies were in production, even a slight delay could cost thousands of dollars. The mimeograph office produced the requisite number of copies— this could be quite large on a major production—and pages would be collated and bound in colored wrappers by stenographic department staff. Hill’s research—citing her study of studio publicity films in the absence of archival sources—indicates that mimeograph machine operators were men who worked in an annex to the stenographic department.6 Stenographic departments arose as part of the broader application of scientific management principles to the movie-making industry in the early twentieth century.' Rather than outsourcing script printing, motion picture studios created their own printing offices. Mimeograph technology offered studios an efficient means to that

30 | PRINTING HISTORY end. Small machines like those sold by A. B. Dick and Gestetner were relatively inexpensive and required minimal space for operation. As E. Haven Hawley notes, in-house mimeographic printing also offered

privacy, an asset promoted by A. B. Dick in early advertisements.8 This was important to motion picture studios, which were in heavy compe­ tition for stories—an outside printer might sell a story to a competitor. Although mimeograph stencils were first prepared by hand, manu­ facturers quickly adapted them for use with the typewriter, pairing these

two technologies for life.9 While not nearly as durable as stereograph plates, stencils were nevertheless perfect for printing in a motion picture studio. Hawley again notes that “a skilled operator could reuse a qual­ ity stencil and produce excellent results consistently,” and, as a result,

stencils were filed for later use. 10 Screenplays typically went through multiple drafts, circulated among production, budgeting, and other studio staff, and saving stencils for later use saved time and labor—there was no need to retype a script when minor or even significant revisions were made to the text. Typists and mimeographers could prepare and print a stencil for the revised leaves alone, or a run of full scripts, by replacing only revised leaves with new stencils. Revision leaves in scripts are like cancels in printed books. Brad-bound scripts could be easily removed from their wrappers, with a secretary or production worker replacing the canceled leaf with the revision. Copyholders received revision leaves to update their scripts either on set during production

A Quill brand mimeograph stencil. or within the studio in pre-production. 11

PRINTING THE SCREENPLAY 31 Even though finished films often diverged significantly from the Leaves from a revised final script for the 1950 film The Furies. These show original script, everyone involved in planning and production needed two combined strategies that printing to work from the same text to ensure continuity and successful col­ and secretarial staff used to track laboration between departments. Studio secretaries and typists devel­ revisions to the text: color coding, and oped three main strategies to help themselves and their colleagues keep show here in detail, alpha-numeric pagination for added leaves. Image scripts current through the revision process. These strategies were used Courtesy of Robert M. Rubin. in all Hollywood studios, continuing into the post-studio era in the 1970s and beyond. In 1990, script supervisor Pat P. Miller reported, “Every revised page is dated and put through in a different color than the previous ones. Generally, the rotation is: white for the original, followed by blue, pink, yellow, green, goldenrod, and then back to white.” 12 The practice had been long established, as evidenced by the multicolored revised scripts in institutional and private collections, as well as booksellers’ catalogs, some of which include front matter explaining the chronological color-coding scheme for revision sheets. 13 Secretaries also established standard practices for foliation to avoid renumbering the stencils for the entire script if pages of text were cut or added during the revision process. When scenes were extended beyond the original leaf, the new leaf would be numbered with a letter. In a revised shooting script for Laura, additions were made to a previous version of the text, with added leaves following leaves 10 and 44 num­ bered 10A and 44A respectively. This script was also condensed in two places, with the text on leaves 61 and 62, and on 77 and 78 condensed to single pages. These were renumbered “61 and 62” and “77 and 78,” respectively.14 By the mid-i930s this was standard practice, with Miller reporting the same strategies for refoliation in 1990. Secretaries could not aspire to high salaries or status within the stu­ dio. Assignments with studio executives and high-powered producers came with soft power and creative influence by proxy, but exceedingly few women were promoted out of stenographic departments to cred­ ited roles in film production.1’ The women hired as secretaries and typists were expected to w ork for the studio until they found a hus­ band, and, as Hill points out, studio publications printed news items resembling personal ads about their secretarial staff describing their looks, personality, and romantic lives. 16 Regardless of their position, however, stenographic staff were hired as full-time employees and worked long hours to meet last-minute script printing deadlines and to keep up with a backlog of typing work on departmental memos, forms, and other administrative paperwork. 17 Hill writes that secretaries and typists were also expected to provide their male bosses with emotional and social support and to cope with sexual harassment and abuse in the office. Smoothing over a rough patch with a disgruntled actor or lover was a regular part of studio

32 | PRINTING HISTORY MS 1st Change THE FURIES 11-7-49 84.

124. CLOSE SHOT - THE HERRERAS

Shouting down insults in Spanish, firing with a will.

MOTHER (After firing) 1 Mas oerca y te tumbo los vigotes!

FELIZ I No heches a perder las bolas, Viejitat

AGUIRRE 1 Dejenlos que se aoeroen mas I

125. CLOSE SHOT - TC

MS 1st Change THE FURIES 11-7-49 84a.

127. (Cont'd)

FELIZ (Pulling Mother behind parapet) Bajate Viejita, o te pegan.

AGUIRRE Cuidado, Mama.

128. CLOSE SHOT - JUAN - INT. HERRERA HOME - (DAWN)

Firing calmly, methodically through a gun slit. He looks to one side. The CAMERA PANS SLIGHTLY with his look to include Vance. Standing close by, her h o i 'l / 1 +*V»Ci n r o l l A T? DA T? « a ra vm /-i+- Vio ti r*-P fPr' t a f n

VW 1st Change THE FURIES 11-7-1$ 85.

128. (Cont'd)

Vance nods, stares straight ahead.

JUAN (Cont'd) No need for fear. This day has long been awaited. We have water enough -

He indicates the natural spring in the rock.

JUAN (Cont'd) Food enough. Munition enough.

Vance turns, looks at him.

JUAN (Cont'd) secretaries’ work, especially with higher levels of management. As a result, success at work depended not only on professional and print- related skills sets, such as typing, editing, and organization, but also on their ability to fulfill physical and emotional gender expectations.18 For secretaries, performing stereotypically feminine skills—attention to detail, warmth with others, tact and social prowess—was once a major component of successful employment. Hill calls this “creative service,” defined as “a professional framework for understanding the larger purpose of womens work at studios, connecting a seemingly disparate array of practices across widely varying secretarial roles, all cohering around their most essential shared function: serving creative work by subtracting all noncreative work from the process.”19 Hill is concerned with valuing secretaries’ contribution to filmmaking, yet she never looks closely at the printed matter they produced and thus undervalues their contributions as print professionals. Secretarial and clerical labor on its own has typically been understood as unskilled labor and drudgework. Recontextualizing typists and secretaries as print workers, however, challenges both of these assumptions. One must learn to type in order to use a typewriter effectively. Aspir­ ing typists invested in classroom training or taught themselves how to use typewriters with rented machines and a typing coursebook like the popular Gregg Typing. Like typesetters and compositors, typists were expected to do much more than simply set letterforms to paper. Typists produced documents that met exact specifications for the position, alignment, and spacing of text, and relied on an expert knowledge of typewriting technology to do so. Any job can feel like drudgework, but there is clear evidence that studio typists were not docile workers unthinkingly performing repet­ itive tasks. Traditional narratives of clerical and secretarial labor in the twentieth century rely on a firm divide between textual composition and print production, yet studio secretaries were not so divorced from the process.20 As described earlier, these secretaries were careful readers who were involved (if uncredited) in composition. As Hill points out, they to were also expected to assist their supervisors in drafting letters because, as women, they were perceived as skilled in tactful, even com­ passionate, communication.21 Typing work was distinct from compositorial labor, yet typists also engaged as readers with the texts they produced, and devised innova­ tive and effective strategies for shepherding texts through the revision process. Typists also read the scripts they prepared for printing. In a letter to a friend in 1925, Hollywood secretary Valeria Belletti wrote, “Yesterday I had to type all the titles to [His Supreme Moment] and enjoyed doing it because it was fun. Such awful titles ‘If I really loved

34 | PRINTING HISTORY him, I’d make any sacrifice for him’; ‘Carla, it’s you I love, dear’; ‘Your indifference is killing me.’ Such rot. [Director George] Fitzmaurice

and I so laughed at them .” 22 Typists were constantly dealing with new scripts and new stories, and it seems likely that they read and formed opinions about brand new scripts and those that were further along in the production process. There is no doubt that women working as secretaries and typists at motion picture studios were limited and demeaned by enforced expec­ tations of gendered behavior at work, and this deserves continued study and analysis. Yet viewing their labor as “creative service” defines that labor in relation to men in power. While useful in understanding how women traded gender performances for their salary, “creative service” fails to document their work in terms of their most substantive material contributions to filmmaking and overemphasizes gendered labor as their only contribution. Women in steno pools typically reported to other women, and these larger pools of labor were actually responsible for providing skilled labor as print workers. Together, typists and sec­ retaries were major components of Hollywood studio printing offices and they produced a mountain of print.

The Studio Duplicating Service In 1948, major changes came to Hollywood with antitrust cases brought against major studios like Paramount and MGM. To comply with a ruling from the Supreme Court, studios were forced to separate pro­ duction from distribution—no longer could studios also own movie theaters. “Divorcement” took place in the decade that followed, with major consequences to screenwriters and printing offices in Hollywood studios. As Steven Price reports in A History o f the Screenplay, “By the middle of the 1950s, there were widespread closures of in-house writing and production teams.... The screenplay was no longer part of a process that would be handled by an in-house story department or

producer but was instead a discrete property for promotion or sale.” 23 This led to major changes in the ways that screenplays were written,

marketed, and purchased.24 Rather than reporting to a producer or story department head, from the late 1950s onward screenwriters became freelancers who worked for independent producers, directors, and actors. They continue to work that way today. When Shepard opened Studio Duplicating Service in 1957, Holly­ wood studios were nearing the end of a decade-long downsizing pro­ cess. Her timing was perfect. When studios let their writers off the leash, they no longer had access to the studio’s secretaries, typing pool, and printing office. Yet screenwriters still needed respectable copies of

PRINTING THE SCREENPLAY | 35 their scripts in order to market them to agents, producers, and other potential partners. Beginning in the 1960s, writers, producers, agents, and anybody else that needed to circulate a printed script turned to a

local copy shop.-5 Studio Duplicating served that community in New York until Jean Shepard retired in 1997. Film historians have explored the many ways in which directors and screenwriters of the New Hollywood era subverted and redefined

American cinema.”6 Likewise, the open market offered printing estab­ lishments serving dramatists, like Studio Duplicating, the freedom to redefine printing work in support of the entertainment industry, while still retaining practices that worked for scripts. For example, the graphic conventions for script printing established during the studio era remained unchanged when printing moved to independent shops. As a New Yorker with extensive connections to the theater industry, Shepard was able to diversify her clientele beyond the film industry to include its competitors. When the shop first opened she made a deal with Tennessee Williams. As long as he told his playwright friends that Studio Duplicating printed his scripts, the shop would print his for free. Aldus Huxley, Lillian Heilman, Arthur Miller, Edward Albee, and Eugene O’Neill are just a few of the well-known writers whose scripts were printed at Shepard’s shop. Network television studios based in New York provided constant work for Studio Duplicating as well. From 1975 to 1997, N B C ’s Saturday Night Live was one of Shepard’s biggest and most demanding customers. Thursdays and Friday mornings were a zoo at Studio Duplicating, with drafts and revisions coming in and staff frequently working into the wee hours to complete a project.27 AB C was another major client, hiring Studio Duplicating for script produc­ tion on the soap operas All My Children and Dark Shadows™ Typists got hooked on the stories and fought to type the soaps in order to get a sneak-peek at new episodes before they aired. The shop also printed stage scripts, hundreds of which are now in the collection of the New York Public Library of the Performing Arts. Because the shop’s records have not survived, it is unclear who exactly placed and paid for orders for individual playwrights, but anecdotal evidence from Shepard’s son, Grey, indicates that individual writers visited the shop on their own, indicating that Studio Duplicating had business relationships with both corporate entities and individuals. Studio Duplicating employed a part-time staff of proofreaders, typists, mimeographers, and binders—secretarial labor did not make the transition from studio to small business. Much like the typists in the steno pool in a Hollywood studio, Studio Duplicating employees were not involved in the composition process and labored only toward the physical production of scripts. Proofreaders in the shop prepared

36 | PRINTING HISTORY l e f t : The doorway to the Studio submitted manuscript or typescript copy, correcting spelling, regular­ Duplicating Service’s shop at izing punctuation, and alerting the shop manager about anything that 446 West 44th Street, New York City. Courtesy of Grey Shepard. a screenwriter would need to resolve personally, such as an indecipher­ able portion of text. This person fulfilled the same role as the corrector RIGHT: The basement of Studio in seventeenth- and eighteenth-century printing houses as described Duplicating Service , where Shepard stored mimeograph stencils for scripts by Philip Gaskell.29 Typists received copy from the proofreader and the shop had printed and might need prepared a mimeograph stencil, which was printed and filed in the to run off again. Courtesy of Grey shop archive for later use, as in Hollywood studios. Shepard. The shift from full- to part-time employment for print shop typists, whether male or female, corresponded to a loss of “creative service” responsibilities and an opening for outside employment opportunities for print shop employees. As a business owner, Shepard herself oversaw little day-to-day print production, devoting most of her time to business administration. Proofreaders, typists, and printers were overseen by an office manager, who in some ways would have resembled a steno­ graphic department supervisor like Wynne Haslam. All employees were free to make whatever arrangements they liked for employment outside of the work at Studio Duplicating. According to Shepards

PRINTING THE SCREENPLAY | 37 son, Grey, most shop employees were men, and with few exceptions, all were film and theater industry workers working toward long-term careers as actors, writers, or other dramatic arts workers. Joel Parsons, an actor traceable to productions of Shakespeare’s As You Like It and Henry IV, worked at Studio Duplicating from opening day through Shepard’s retirement.30 Marcia Wallace (1942-2013) is perhaps the best-known shop employee—she played receptionist Carol Kester on The Bob Newhart Show and voiced Edna Krabappel on The Simpsons. Shepard hired theater people because those were the people she knew; they also knew scripts from their work on stage and screen and therefore knew what a script should look like. Shepard herself prized creative work and prioritized her own creative pursuits outside of Studio Duplicating. She pseudonymously published a novel, Nobody Home, in 1977, which became the basis for her play, A Firehouse Bride-, it opened off-Broadway in 1987. Shepard was also an avid painter and potter, and her ceramics stocked the first Pottery Barn store in New York when it opened in 1963. As a small business owner, Shepard could manage her time as she saw fit and devoted a number of daylight hours to her creative pursuits, working well into the night on administration and bookkeeping after the shop had closed. The flexibility that Shepard offered herself was also generously extended to her employees. Staff members hired for touring produc­ tions, for example, could take three months leave to travel with their show and return home to a job in New York when they needed it. This represents a key departure from the nature of work in the studio system. Although Studio Duplicating Service mostly employed men, similar businesses like Barbara’s Place in Los Angeles were heavily staffed by women who likewise pursued dramatic work outside of their jobs as Jean Shepard at her pottery wheel, circa 1950-1956. Her printing business typists.31 Studio Duplicating Service and Barbara’s Place could not gave her the flexibility to financial directly facilitate their employees’ career advancement, but the flexibil­ stability to continue her creative ity that Jean Shepard offered to herself and her staff demonstrates her pursuits. Courtesy of Grey Shepard. view of these people as both printing staff and as individuals. Employ­ ees simply needed to meet the expectations set by Shepard and shop supervisors around the production of printed matter to keep their jobs. Secretarial labor and the gendered duties required of twentieth- century secretaries simply were not part of the job. In fact, their labor at Studio Duplicating helped them to support their self-determined goals outside of the office. In the twentieth century the history of print expanded well beyond the boundaries of the publishing house. And the history of print work, too, expands well beyond Linotype and other industrial printing tech­ nologies. Small-scale printing technologies played an integral role in the motion picture industry, and many others, both within corporate and

38 | PRINTING HISTORY cultural institutions and outside of, or even in opposition, to them .32 W hen paired with a mimeograph machine, the typewriter was a key technological partner in the production of scripts and book-like objects such as pamphlets and broadsides that circulated outside of corporate publishing and distribution networks in the mid-twentieth century. Recontextualizing secretaries and typists as skilled laborers, and bib- liographically analyzing the material record of their work, extend his­ toric narratives and practices of printing textual production into the twentieth century. As Roger Stoddard once wrote in the pages of Printing History: “Whatever they do, authors do not write books. Books are not written at all. They are manufactured by scribes and other artisans, by mechan­ ics and engineers, and by printing press and other machines.” 33 The same can be said of screenwriters and screenplays, which were, prior to the digital age, manufactured by print professionals. Secretaries, typists, and mimeographers worked with typewriters, mimeograph stencils, and mimeograph rotary presses to print thousands of copies of scripts, the blueprints for motion pictures.

NOTES 1. Erin Hill, Never Done: A History of Women’s Work in Media Production (New Bruns­ wick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2016), 38. 2. Hill, Never Done, 38,102. 3. Meta Carpenter and Orin Borstin,^! Loving Gentleman: The Love Story of William Faulkner and Meta Carpenter (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1976), 84. 4. Idwaljones, “The Muse in Hollywood,” The New York Times, December 27,1936, Proquest Historical Newspapers. 5. Carpenter and Borstin, A Loving Gentleman, 86. 6. Hill, Never Done, 87. 7. Janet Staiger, “Dividing Labor for Production Control: Thomas Ince and the Rise of the Studio System,” Cinema Journal 18, no. 2 (Spring 1979): 16-25. 8. E. Haven Hawley, “Revaluing Mimeographs as Historical Sources,” RBM: A Jour­ nal of Rare Books, Manuscripts, and Cultural Heritage 15, no. 1 (Spring 2014): 43. 9. Ian Batterham, The Office Copying Revolution: History, Identification, and Preser­ vation (Canberra: National Archives of Australia, 2008), 63. 10. Hawley, “Revaluing Mimeographs,” 43. 11. When such changes were made during production, a script supervisor was respon­ sible for tracking them (and many other things) and sending revised copy to the right person for reproduction. In the early years, script supervisors (or script girls) could be a director’s secretary who took on this responsibility when shooting on a film started—this is how Meta Carpenter got her start. The work of script super­ vision is largely outside of the scope of this paper, but curious readers should start with Pat P. Miller’s Script supervising and film continuity, 2nd edition. (Boston: Focal Press, 1990). 12. Pat P. Miller, Script supervising and film continuity, 2nd edition (Boston: Focal Press, 1990), 25.

PRINTING THE SCREENPLAY 39 13. The Margaret Herrick Library, The Lilly Library, UCLA, USC, and the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts all have significant collections of Hollywood film scripts. Robert M. Rubin is the foremost private collector of western, film noir, and New Hollywood scripts as of this writing. Catalogs from Royal Books are excellent resources for film scripts in the marketplace. 14. Laura final shooting script dated April 18,1944 in Rubin Collection. 15. For the stories of several high-powered executive secretaries, see Erin Hill, “His Acolyte on the Altar of Cinema: The Studio Secretary’s Creative Service,” in Never Done: A History of Women’s Work in Media Production (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2016), 127-163. 16. Hill, Never Done, uz. 17. For personal accounts of long hours worked by studio secretaries, see “Catalina Lawrence” in Hollywood Speaks!: An Oral History, ed. Mike Steen (New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1974), 345-346; “They Aren’t All Actresses in Hollywood,” in Photoplay 50, no. 3 (September 1935): 50-51. 18. Hill, Never Done, 127-134. 19. Ibid., 134. 2 0. See Ellen Lupton, Mechanical Brides: Women andMachinesfrom Home to the Office (New York: Princeton Architectural Press, 1993), 44. 21. Ibid., 131. 22. Adventures of a Hollywood Secretary: Her Private Letters from Inside the Studios of the 1920s, ed. Cari Beauchamp (Berkeley: University of California Press), 27. 23. Steven Price, “Master-Scene Screenplays and the ‘New Hollywood,”’ in A History of the Screenplay (New York: Macmillan Publishers Ltd., 2013), Credo Reference. 24. Ibid., see his discussion on differences between the master scene screenplay and shooting scripts. 2 5. Screenwriter Heywood Gould recalls hiring freelance typists as well. When scripts he wrote went into production, the producer he was working with coordinated printing with a print shop like Studio Duplicating Service. Heywood Gould, recorded interview with author, August 8, 2017. 26. See Peter Biskind, Easy Riders, Raging Bulls: How Sex-Drugs-and-Rock-’n'-Roll Saved Hollywood (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1998); Last Great American Picture Show: New Hollywood Cinema in the 1970s, ed. Thomas Elsaesser, et al. (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2004). 27. Grey Shepard, interview with author, September 27, 2017. 28.Ibid. 29. Philip Gaskell, A New Introduction to Bibliography (New York: Oxford University Press, 1972), 40-41. 30. “Joel Parsons,” The Internet Broadway Database, www.ibdb.com/broadway-cast -staff/joel-parsons-483356, accessed March 29,2018, and Grey Shepard, interview with author, September 27, 2017. 31. Robert Reinhold, “Scene 14 of the Writers Guild Strike: Tough Times in Holly­ wood,” New York Times, June 12,1988, www.nytimes.com/1988/06/12/us/scene -14-of-writers-guild-strike-tough-times-in-hollywood.html; and Heywood Gould, recorded interview with author, August 8, 2017. 3 2. See Hawley, “Reevaluating mimeographs.” For a social analysis of the impact of Xerography on late-twentieth-century counter-cultural movements, see Kate Eichhorn, Adjusted Margin: Xerography, Art, and Activism in the Late Twentieth Century (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2016). 33. Roger Stoddard, “Morphology and the Book from an American Perspective,” Printing History 17,1987, 2-14.

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