The Griffith Actresses – By Anthony Slide – 1973 (Blanche Sweet, Kate Bruce, Lillian Gish)

The Griffith Actresses

By Anthony Slide – 1973

And we may believe they walk again, as they did long years ago.

—Final title in True Heart Susie

True Heart Susie
True Heart Susie

What Made a Griffith Girl?

David Wark Griffith was born in Crestwood, Kentucky, on January 22, 1875; he was the fourth son of Jacob Wark Griffith, a onetime Confederate colonel. In 1908 he joined the American Biograph Company as an actor, after having been previously employed in the same capacity by the Edison Company. On July 14, 1908, his first film as a director, The Adventures of Dollie, was released. His last production, The Struggle, was released on December 10, 1931. He died in Hollywood on July 23, 1948.

D.W. Griffith on set
D.W. Griffith on set

That, in one cold precise paragraph, sums up the career of D. W. Griffith, the man who not only invented screen syntax, but also—and more importantly—gave the cinema the most precious gift of all, beauty. That beauty he presented to film audiences to a large extent through the actresses whom he used in his productions, actresses who studied individually might appear to have little in common but who together had one major common denominator: they were all Griffith Girls.

Carol Dempster in 'Dream Street' (D.W. Griffith, 1921)
Carol Dempster in ‘Dream Street’ (D.W. Griffith, 1921)

What made a Griffith girl? Physically, they were all small, slim, and young, the last attribute perhaps being the most important. “We pick the little women because the world loves youth, and all its wistful sweetness. . . . Youth with its dreams and sweetness, youth with its romance and adventure! For in the theater, as in our families, we look to youth for beauty and often for example. We sit in the twilight of the theater and in terms of youth, upon faces enlarged, we see thoughts that are personal to us, with the privilege of Supplying our own words and messages as they may fit our individual experiences in life.”

All the Griffith girls (excluding, of course, the character actresses) were less than twenty years of age when they came under his direction; Blanche Sweet was not yet fourteen when she joined Biograph, and Carol Dempster was eighteen when she made True Heart Susie, as was Miriam Cooper when she made Intolerance.

Miriam_Cooper_from_Stars_of_the_Photoplay

It is often said, foolishly, that the Griffith heroine was always ethereal. Which other Griffith actress, aside from Lillian Gish, can be described as ethereal? Certainly not Blanche Sweet or Mae Marsh or Clarine Seymour. As “The Little Disturber” in Hearts of the World, Dorothy Gish was anything but ethereal, and Carol Dempster was only ethereal in as much as she was trying to emulate Lillian Gish. If anything a Griffith heroine had many masculine traits, in that she would fight for what she desired, and if she did not get it, it was not through want of trying.

Dorothy Gish in The Hearts of The World
Dorothy Gish in The Hearts of The World

The quality which made these actresses so special, the quality which Griffith saw in each of them—perhaps not instantly, but very soon after the first meeting—was, I believe, “soul.” By “soul” I mean emotion, an inner quality that could be brought to the surface and exposed before the camera: an inner quality that might remain dormant until its possessor came into contact with a mesmerist, a Svengali, a D. W. Griffith.

“Soul” was an expression Griffith often referred to when discussing film acting: “The actor with the Soul enters into the work with all the ardor there is in him. He feels his part, he is living his part, and the result is a good picture. . . . For principals I must have people with souls, people who know and feel their parts, and who express every single feeling in the entire gamut of emotions with their muscles. … It isn’t what you do with your face or your hands, it’s the light within. If you have that light, it doesn’t matter just what you do before the camera.”

Judith from Bethulia 7
Judith from Bethulia

Griffith’s choice of actresses seldom faltered. He always seemed to know who had that “light within,” although it wasn’t always apparent the first time he worked with a particular actress. Linda Arvidson comments, regarding Blanche Sweet, that when she first applied for work at American Biograph, he was “as yet unwilling to grant that she had any soul or feeling in her work.” Occasionally he failed to spot that light at all, as with Florence Lawrence, whom he allowed without demur to leave American Biograph and join Carl Laemmle.

The Movies Mr.Griffith and Me
The Movies Mr.Griffith and Me

All these players remained loyal to Griffith; their devotion was absolute. Lillian Gish has shown her devotion not only in the title of her autobiography, but in one of her acknowledgements therein: “To D. W. Griffith who taught me it was more fun to work than to play.” Lionel Barrymore wrote, “Bless him, he always tried to make one feel his contribution was great even though it might have been piffle.” All of his players have protected his good name throughout the years. It is almost impossible to find anyone who has ever worked for Griffith who has one word of criticism of him. (One almost feels obligated to use a capital “H” for his or him.) The general feeling about the man by all who knew him was summed up by Blanche Sweet, when we discussed his funeral.

“I did go to his funeral, although I don’t believe in funerals. But I did go there, and felt very badly about it, because there were quite a lot of people there, but on the other hand, all of Hollywood should have been there standing. All of Hollywood, because without him, maybe someone else would have come along and done it, maybe, but maybe not. Anyway, he did it. And he contributed more, actually, to making motion pictures than anybody else. There have been a lot of people, men and women, who had done a great deal for films, contributed a lot, but nobody did quite as much as he did. And I really felt that everybody who ever worked in the films should have been there. Well, that s one reason why I don’t believe in funerals.”

Richard Barthelmess, Mary Pickford and Lillian Gish at Griffith's Memorial Lagrange Kentucky May 14, 1950
Richard Barthelmess, Mary Pickford and Lillian Gish at Griffith’s Memorial Lagrange Kentucky May 14, 1950

This volume chronicles lives and careers of several of the Griffith girls. Without him most, maybe all, would be unknown today, but I also like to think that his success owed much to their presence in his films. He brought out the best in them, and they responded by assuring his films through their acting—a place in the history of the cinema.

In 1928, D. W. Griffith addressed the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences with the following words: “When motion pictures have created something to compare with the plays of Euripides, that have lasted two thousand years, or the works of Homer, or the plays of Shakespeare, or Ibsen, or Keats’s ‘Ode to a Nightingale,’ the music of Handel, Bach, and Wagner, then let us call our form of entertainment an art, but not before.” Griffith was not a modest man; I believe he knew when he made that speech that his films had equalled the works of Homer, Shakespeare, or Handel, that Broken Blossoms was comparable in beauty to “Ode to a Nightingale.” But, as in any great man’s work, it was the collaborators, the interpreters, who played their part as well. The Griffith girls were the Sarah Bernhardt and the Julia Marlowe to his Shakespeare, the Kirsten Flagsted to his Wagner. To them also should be given the praise and the glory. We shall not see David Wark Griffith’s like again; nor, I fear, shall we see theirs—the Griffith Girls’.

 

The Ladies of the Biograph

The children who tripped to fortune up the steps of 11 East 14th Street. —Iris Barry

American Biograph Company 11 East 14th Street NY
American Biograph Company 11 East 14th Street NY

The studios of the American Biograph Company at 11 East 14th Street were the finest training ground any silent film actress (or actor for that matter) could desire. It is doubtful that any other of the early companies, with the possible exception of Vitagraph, produced so many embryo stars. Mary Pickford, Blanche Sweet, Mae Marsh, Mabel Normand, Lillian and Dorothy Gish were all stars who served their apprenticeship with the American Biograph Company.

The Griffith actresses - Mabel Normand
The Griffith actresses – Mabel Normand

But there were also many fine actresses working at the studios who never became stars, but whose presence in films, usually in character roles, was something that was received with a sigh of appreciation and thanks. Kate Bruce, Florence Lawrence, Josephine Crowell, Marion Leonard, Claire McDowell, and Linda Arvidson were actresses whose faces, if not names, were known and loved by film- goers during the teens and twenties. They have all long since passed on, but the memory of their performances remains undimmed for all those who loved the silent cinema, and to them this chapter is dedicated.

The Griffith actresses - Kate Bruce
The Griffith actresses – Kate Bruce

Kate Bruce

The character actress whose name immediately springs to mind when one thinks of the D. W. Griffith stock company is Kate Bruce.

Actress Lillian Gish, Richard Barthelmess, Kate Bruce, D.W. Griffith, Mrs. David Landau, Burr McIntosh, Lowell Sherman in a scenne from the movie Way Down East
Actress Lillian Gish, Richard Barthelmess, Kate Bruce, D.W. Griffith, Mrs. David Landau, Burr McIntosh, Lowell Sherman in a scene from the movie Way Down East

“Fortunate Brucie,, as Linda Arvidson wrote, she seems never to have had to hunt a job since that long ago day when D. W. Griffith picked her as a member of the old Biograph Stock Company. Little bits or big parts mattered nothing to ‘Brucie’ as long as she was working with us.”  Blanche Sweet recalled her as “a dear person, very quiet, very calm. Rather shy, she never had much to say. She played a great many of the mothers, of course, always the sweeter, gentle characters—she was that.”

British Cinema Art, London. George Neville, Edgar Nelson, Burr McIntosh, Kate Bruce, Richard Barthelmess, Lillian Gish, Lowell Sherman, Vivia Ogden, Creighton Hale, Mary Hay

Blanche Sweet

One of the greatest actresses of all time. —Herbert Wilcox

The Griffith actresses - Blanche Sweet
The Griffith actresses – Blanche Sweet

Linda Arvidson wrote that Griffith “hardly expected her to set the world afire,” and that he was at first “unwilling to grant that she had any soul or feeling in her work.” Undoubtedly, she gave some brilliant performances in the Biograph and Mutual pictures she made for Griffith, particularly in The Painted Lady and Judith of Bethulia, both of which I shall discuss later, but she also proved that in her post-Griffith career, with not always the most helpful or intelligent of directors, she could more than equal her acting in those early dramatic roles. Her appalling performances in some Biograph one- reelers—I’m thinking particularly of The Battle—make me feel that her acting did not depend on Griffith’s direction, or on anyone else’s for that matter, but on her and her alone.

Sarah Blanche Sweet was born in Chicago on June 18, 1896; contrary to what many people believe, Sweet was her real name. She was brought up by her grandmother, Cora Blanche Alexander, to whom Blanche was devoted. It was Mrs. Alexander who introduced the young Blanche to the stage and, as Blanche recalls, “I had done a vaudeville sketch, which I’ve since learned was something from Dickens, and I loved it.” Blanche was also taking dancing lessons from Ruth St. Denis, lessons she was to put to good use later with Gertrude Hoffman.

Even in childhood, a mixture of pride and stubbornness, traits which were to be much in evidence during her film career, was apparent. “I was about four years old, I guess. My grandmother and I were in Cincinnati and Richard Mansfield was going to play there. As was the custom if the part was not large, if there were any children needed, they would get them from city to city. They have children, and pick from them—so I was picked, and I wouldn’t do it. And my grandmother and I—I don’t know if I knew it or not, it may be so—we both needed money to eat. And I wouldn’t play that part. I can remember my grandmother taking me around the backdrop, pleading with me to play the part—she should have hit me. And I said ‘No. I don’t like his face.’ ” Some years later, Harry Carr was to sum up her personality in an article in Motion Picture Magazine: “Blanche has a fierce, unconquerable heart and a tender, sensitive soul. It’s a terrible mixture … a sensitive, brooding soul with thoughts and impressions so sensitized and an emotion so deep that she dares not bare it to the world—nor to herself.”

The Griffith actresses - Blanche Sweet /The Massacre
The Griffith actresses – Blanche Sweet /The Massacre

In 1909, shortage of money persuaded Blanche and her grandmother to investigate films, and a friend suggested they try the Biograph Company. “So my grandmother and I went down, and in the outer foyer, which has been so much described, we made inquiries at a window, and they gave us a form, and we filled that out, and heard nothing. So that was the Biograph Company! Then we made our way up to the Edison Company, which was way uptown, and we had better luck there. They put me into a film the next day as an extra. All I remember about it was that it was raining, and I was under an umbrella. I don’t remember who directed it; I don’t remember who was in it; I don’t remember anything about it, except it was Edison. And then they gave me a picture after that—A Man with Three Wives.”

This film was copyrighted by the Edison Company on November 12, 1909. A comedy 440 feet in length, it concerned Jack Howard and his friend Ralph, who shared an artists’ studio in Greenwich Village. Jack had married against the wishes of his wealthy Uncle Peter, and the only way he could safeguard his interest in his uncle’s fortune was to pass off his wife as that of the already-married Ralph. Jack’s mother-in-law arrives on the scene, is horrified to discover a model in the studio, but mollified when Jack introduces her as Ralph’s wife. The film ends, seven minutes after it had begun, with Jack’s wife charming the uncle, who is attracted to the model, and the entire company dance around the irate mother-in-law. Blanche played one of the “wives,” but which one she does not recall, and unhappily neither the film itself nor any stills from it are known to have survived.

The Griffith actresses - Blanche Sweet /Walthall
The Griffith actresses – Blanche Sweet /Walthall

After this one featured role at Edison, Blanche, with her grandmother, decided to try the Biograph Company again. “The same person who said go down to Biograph said ‘Did you see Griffith?’ and we said ‘No, we just saw a window and a form.’ ‘Well, go down and see Griffith.’ So we did. We asked for Griffith, and he eventually came out and talked to me. And he said ‘Well, you can be in a film this afternoon.’ ”

And so Blanche Sweet made her first screen appearance with Biograph as an extra in A Corner in Wheat, released on December 13, 1909. Based on two works by Frank Norris, a novel The Octopus and a short story “A Deal in Wheat,” the film featured Biograph regulars Henry B. Walthall, James Kirkwood, Mack Sennett, and Kate Bruce.

Lillian Gish cca 18 years old - theater scene

Lillian Gish

Like she really comes on like a star. It’s really too much; she gassed me.

I think I love her.

—Student at Toronto’s York University

Lillian Gish, Dorothy and Mary Robinson McConnell (mother)
Lillian Gish, Dorothy and Mary Robinson McConnell (Mother)

In August of 1925, Motion Picture Magazine carried a photograph of Lillian and Dorothy Gish with their mother, which was captioned “The Proudest Little Mother in All the World.” One can well appreciate that title for Mrs. Gish, mother of two great film actresses, one of whom, Lillian, has become one of the cinema’s most endearing and enduring stars.

Lillian Gish must surely be the only film actress from the silent era to have become a legend in her own lifetime. It seems totally inexcusable to criticize anything that she may have said or done. As one reviewer, writing of her autobiography, pointed out, to criticize Lillian Gish is comparable to denying God, one’s mother, and one’s country in the same breath. Since that fateful day when she and her sister Dorothy were first introduced to Mr. Griffith at the Biograph studios, the legendary image of Lillian Gish has been growing. She might almost be said to have been nurturing that image from her birth in Springfield, Ohio, on October 14, 1896.

Lillian Gish as Ophelia, 1936, by Edward Steichen
Lillian Gish as Ophelia, 1936, by Edward Steichen

Writers today idolize her. Edward Wagenknecht has been one of her sincerely devoted admirers for probably longer than most people. In 1927 he wrote, “She is completely a being of lyric loveliness, even to her very name.” Sewell Stokes, in a radio broadcast in January, 1958, commented, “My favourite heroine was a wistful girl with a rosebud mouth and large dreamy eyes. She was beautiful and had about her a frail, spiritual quality that set her apart from the others. From my earliest visits to the cinema I had been in love with her. I had worshiped her from afar; she was a goddess, set on a very high pedestal indeed. And her name was Lillian Gish.”

Lillian Gish in Hearts of The World
Lillian Gish in Hearts of The World

Of course, during the silent era itself, Miss Gish was not quite as revered as she is today. Marion Davies in The Patsy gives a brilliantly cruel parody of a Lillian Gish portrayal. James R. Quirk wrote in Photoplay, “In the last twelve years she has been saved just in the nick of time from the brutal attacks of 4,000 German soldiers, 2,000 border ruffians, and 999 conscienceless men about town. Someday I hope the American hero breaks a leg and fails to get there before the German soldier smashes in the door.” The editor of another contemporary film magazine commented, “An optimist is a person who will go to the theater expecting to see a D. W. Griffith production in which Lillian Gish is not attacked by the villain in the fifth reel.” One newspaper critic even suggested the foundation of a Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Lillian Gish.

The Birth of a Nation (David W. Griffith Corp., 1915). Herald2
The Birth of a Nation (David W. Griffith Corp., 1915). Herald2

Lillian Gish and David Wark Griffith; the two names are synonymous. Lillian Gish has starred in more Griffith features than any other actress, and she has carried on the acting tradition that Griffith taught her into the present. She was the ethereal star, who to most people represented the D. W. Griffith school of acting, the helpless heroine menaced by the villainous thug, be it in The Birth of a Nation, Hearts of the World, or Broken Blossoms. Lillian Gish was—and is—the supreme Griffith actress.

The Mothering Heart - 1913
The Mothering Heart – 1913

Of her films at American Biograph, I feel The Mothering Heart, released on June 21, 1913, was probably Lillian’s best work. It contains the typical Griffith-Gish traits—the death of the baby, the vamp who lures the husband away—but it also contains a superb, adult performance from Miss Gish. Lillian has discovered her husband’s (Walter Miller) unfaithfulness by finding a glove belonging to the other woman (Viola Barry) in his jacket pocket. She leaves him and goes to her mother (Kate Bruce). After the death of their baby, Miller returns. Lillian finds him by the baby’s cot and tells him to go, but then she sees that he has the child’s pacifier in his hand, and realizes her continuing love for him. The film contains some surprisingly mature acting from Lillian (bearing in mind her age at this time), particularly a long, hard look directly into the camera after the death of her child, and a scene of savage, silent fury as she relieves all her pent-up emotions by beating a bush—each stroke a blow against those who have wronged her by taking away both her husband and her child.

The Mothering Heart - 1913
The Mothering Heart – 1913

No one will ever know whether Griffith was aware then of the actress, the star, he had in Lillian Gish. Certainly, he took Lillian with him when he moved on to Reliance-Majestic, but he did not in any way favor her. He was obviously aware of her ethereal qualities when he cast her as John Howard Payne’s sweetheart in Home Sweet Home. It is to Lillian that Henry B. Walthall, as Payne, says “Till the end of the world and afterwards I shall wait for you,” which brings Lillian’s reply, “It will be happiness to wait for him.”

Enoch Arden - Lillian Gish /Paget /Reid

Writing of that period in Harper’s Bazaar, Lillian recalled the lesson that Griffith always drilled into his actresses: “Griffith always told us there was no quick or easy way to stardom, and that being a star had nothing to do with having your name in the papers or up in lights over the marquees of theaters. You were a star only when you had won your way into the hearts of people. He claimed that this would take at least ten years, that we must make pictures so good that they would be worthy of the effort sometimes necessary to see them.”

Lillian Gish - Hoover Art Studios LA
Lillian Gish – Hoover Art Studios, Los Angeles

It was not until The Birth of a Nation and Lillian’s role as Elsie Stoneman that the world really sat up and took notice. Lillian recalled for me that Blanche Sweet was originally slated for the part. “She was really, I think, to have had this part in The Birth of a Nation, but I rehearsed for her. If they were making another film, which no doubt she’d be doing with some other director, Griffith would want to rehearse The Birth, and whoever was free would rehearse any part, men and women. And one time I was rehearsing, and George Siegmann was playing the mulatto, and in my excitement at trying to be good and impress Mr. Griffith my hair came down—long, blonde hair to below my waist. I was very thin and unformed, and he picked me up, and my hair and feet almost touched the floor on both sides of him. And Griffith thought, well maybe he saw a full mature figure as Elsie Stoneman, maybe a frail figure with the hair and all would be more effective. I think that’s how I got the job. I didn’t think I was to play Elsie Stoneman; I wasn’t that far up in the company at that time. It was by rights Blanche Sweet’s part.”

intolerance-1916-lillian-gish-the-cradle-endlessly-rocking

After The Birth came Griffith’s greatest work, Intolerance. So much has—rightly—been written about this production that there seems little to add here. As Lillian commented, “The man had it all in his mind. He wrote every bit of it, he designed every set, he designed every costume, it was all his. That’s his monument. It is the greatest film ever made.” Lillian wrote in a letter to the widow of Howard Gaye, who portrayed The Christ in the film, “When Dorothy and I went to Jerusalem two years ago we felt it had been built by Mr. Griffith, and we expected to see your dear husband coming down the street any moment.”

Lillian Gish and Richard Barthelmess - Broken Blossoms
Lillian Gish and Richard Barthelmess – Broken Blossoms

The series of Griffith productions that followed Intolerance served further to assert Lillian’s position as the silent screen’s greatest dramatic actress, to make her, in the words of Harry Carr, “the supreme technician of the screen.”

It is unfair to single out any individual film, but if I had to, then I would say Broken Blossoms, closely followed by True Heart Susie, was her finest achievement. Julian Johnson wrote of the former in Photoplay (August, 1919), “It is the finest genuine tragedy of the movies. The visualizing of this bitter-sweet story is, I have no hesitation in saying, the very finest expression of the screen so far. There seems to be no setting or accessory which is not correct in its finest details. The composition is a painter’s. The photography is not only perfect, but, with caution, is innovational, and approximates, in its larger lights and softnesses of close view, the details of bright and dark upon the finest canvases in the Louvres of the world.”

Lillian Gish and Richard Barthelmess (Moon Scene) Broken Blossoms
Lillian Gish and Richard Barthelmess (Moon Scene) Broken Blossoms

Lillian Gish as the London waif beaten by a drunken father and idolized by the love-sick Chinaman is beauty personified. Every subtitle is almost a poem to her loveliness: “He breathed into an amber flute the alabaster cockney girl’s love name—White Blossom” or “There he brings rays stolen from the lyric moon and places them in her hair, and all night long he holds her grubby hand.” Through Lillian Gish’s portrayal, the spirit of beauty truly has broken her blossoms about our chambers. Julian Johnson, in his Photoplay review, said of her, “She has to be both Lillian Gish and the Mae Marsh of old rolled into one sorrowful little being, and her success in this strange combination of motives and beings is absolute.”

The closet scene, with Lillian whirling around and around in terror, is one of the most famous moments in silent film drama, as is the gesture of Lillian forcing her mouth into a smile with her fingers. “I know I was rehearsing the child in The Chink and the Child, that was called Broken Blossoms you know, and in rehearsal I just put the smile on my face. I hadn’t thought of it, but it just happened. And he [Griffith] jumped up, and he said, ‘Where did you get that gesture? How did you think of that? I’ve never seen that—that’s the most original gesture we ve had in the movie.’ And he then immediately put it all through the film. He grabs something quickly that he felt was good, and enlarges upon it and uses it.”

Robert Harron, Clarine Seymour and Lillian Gish in True Heart Susie
Robert Harron, Clarine Seymour and Lillian Gish in True Heart Susie

True Heart Susie was released prior to Broken Blossoms on June 1, 1919. Lillian portrays Susie, a country girl whose love for a local boy, Robert Harron, is responsible for her paying for him to go through college, enter the ministry, and, unexpectedly, marry another woman. The Gish characterization is not as easy to analyze as many people would believe. She is not the simple country girl of the written synopsis. Wid’s Film Daily’s, summing up of her philosophy is true enough: “Her philosophy of life is so simple and beautiful. She loves, and to her love means sacrifice and an abiding faith in the ultimate goodness of things.” But the Gish characterization hints not so much at a selfless sacrifice, but at a sacrifice for a purpose, a sacrifice that eventually will bring her the man she loves. When that sacrifice does not work out exactly as she had planned, and the man she loves marries another woman, then her spite may not be openly visible, but it is there nevertheless, only just beneath the surface. Watch Lillian’s eyes in True Heart Susie. They are not the eyes of a selfless, simple girl. They are the eyes of a devoted creature, until Harron meets Clarine Seymour, and then those eyes are filled with spite and hatred. You know Lillian will get her man, no matter how long she may have to wait.

True Heart Susie
True Heart Susie

At the time of its original release, True Heart Susie was not particularly well-received. Wid’s Film Daily (June 8, 1919) thought, “The trouble here is that there is not enough plot substance to balance properly a production of this length. At times the picture drags, not through any deficiencies on the part of the players, or any shortcomings in the direction, rather owing to a lack of variety in the action. The thinness of the plot makes necessary the too frequent repetition of scenes that in their meaning and expression of emotion are virtually the same. In more abbreviated form, True Heart Susie might easily have become a masterpiece of screen character fiction. At present it suggests an ideal short story expanded to novel length.”

In the twenties, Lillian made only two Griffith films, Way Down East and Orphans of the Storm. Then Griffith allowed her to go her own way. Today, that hardly seems believable. How could a director bear to lose an actress of whom Photoplay, reviewing Orphans of the Storm, had written, “Each new Gish portrayal is finer than the one before. The actress works. With a rare beauty and personal charm, she is not content. Her Henriette is sublime.” Happily, Lillian Gish did not seem in any way to be lost without Griffith’s guiding hand. Indeed, many would say it was the director who suffered the loss, Lillian carried the techniques that she had learned under Griffith into the films of other directors, beginning with The White Sister, premiered on September 5, 1923 at New York’s 44th Street Theater. Lillian was—and still is—devoted to The White Sister and its theme.

“Richard Barthelmess had left us after Way Down East, and then he came back. Under his arm he had Tol’able David, and he ran it for us in the projection room one night. Well, we all wept, and Griffith wept, and we were so happy. Griffith hugged and kissed him and said, with the tears in his eyes, how proud he was of him, because he just loved his children to go out and make a success of their own. Then Dick said, why didn’t I come with Inspiration. Well, I found The White Sister, and worked on the script because I wanted it for a new scene that had never been seen on films—and that was the taking of the veil. And I somehow got hold of the ritual, which was a beautiful and sensuous poem. I’m not a Catholic, but I thought it was so dramatic to say ‘the bridegroom’ and flash to the crucifix. Henry King didn’t think much of the story, but he would have made the telephone book to get to Italy. It was just a sensational success. It was the first modern religious film ever made. Up until then, they had made Biblical stories, but this was the first modern religious film.”

Unhappily, aside from Lillian’s performance, the film does not stand up too well today. The direction lacks polish, and there is no excuse for Henry King shooting in the day for night shots, so that the sunlight is clearly visible streaming through the trees.

But it is to Lillian that one looks, and she does not let one down. Who else but Lillian Gish could have been the “ethereal child” of F. Marion Crawford’s novel? As Photoplay noted, “Her work is more evenly balanced and human. She is a woman, rather than a temperamentally high-strung girl.” The scenes in which Lillian takes the veil must be, as she has rightly pointed out, some of the most beautiful ever filmed. “Today you are at liberty to go into the world— tomorrow the doors will be closed forever,” says the Mother Superior to Lillian before the ceremony begins. “Clothed in bridal array for her marriage to the church,” the girl goes before the altar. Three old nuns watch her; the spectator knows that they are remembering the vows that they took so many years ago. As the ceremony progresses, there are only three titles: “Wedding Bells,” “The Bride,” and finally, with a cut to the figure of Christ on the cross above the altar, “The Bridegroom.” Lillian’s hair is cut. She is now the “spouse of Christ.”

The White Sister
The White Sister

Lillian was not particularly happy, one suspects, working with Henry King, but for the majority of her other productions in the 1920s she chose her directors carefully. “Oh, I was so happy working with Mr. Seastrom and that great Swedish actor Lars Hanson— beautiful artists. I’d been away from Hollywood so long, I didn’t know the directors or actors, and I saw just two reels of an unfinished film called The Big Parade. And I said I’d like to have that director and those actors for my first film [at MGM], and they gave all of them to me. I don’t think they realised what a wonderful film at that time The Big Parade was, but I could tell in a rough cut this was something unusual and fine.”

King Vidor’s autobiography, A Tree Is a Tree, makes it obvious that the director had great respect for Miss Gish. Their mutual respect was undoubtedly responsible for making La Boheme the fine production that it is—although it was not the success it should have been.

La Boheme was taken from the same source as Puccini’s opera, Henri Murger’s Life in the Latin Quarter. Lillian is introduced as an embroideress, first seen sewing in the cold of her tiny, bare room, “facing life with a glorious courage,” The film contains perhaps the most harrowing of Gish sequences, certainly as disturbing as the final rescue from the ice floe in Way Down East; this is Mimi’s dying flight through the cobbled streets of Montmartre, roaming, it almost seems, endlessly through the streets, holding on to passing carriages. The film also contains a number of attempts by Lillian at comedy: shielding her eyes and crossing herself as John Gilbert crosses the roof from his apartment to her room, acting out an entire play— including a duel—for the Count, and looking through opera glasses from the wrong end.

1945 Lionel Barrymore Lillian Gish Helen Hayes and Anita Loos Press Photo - Duel in The Sun

Lillian did not work again with King Vidor until 1946 when she appeared as Mrs. McCanles in David Selznick’s production of Duel in the Sun. Lillian is one of the completely “good” people in the story; Jennifer Jones, in fact, says to her, “I’ll be a good girl—I want to be like you.” And it was this type of role that Lillian was to play in all of her sound pictures. One of the reasons why she has devoted herself more to the stage and less to the cinema since the coming of sound may very well have been the lack of variety in the parts that she has been offered.

Lillian Gish and DW Griffith on set - candid, duel in the sun
Lillian Gish and DW Griffith on set – candid, duel in the sun

To my mind at least, her most pleasing performance in recent years, and one which carries on very much the tradition established by D. W. Griffith, was that of Hetty Seiber in Walt Disney’s Follow Me Boys, released in 1966.

The first time that Jennifer Jones, as Pearl Chavez, meets Lillian in Duel in the Sun, the elder iady talks of Jennifer Jones’s father, saying “I’m somewhat different than he remembered.” That statement cannot be applied to the actual Lillian Gish. For more than fifty years, she has remained one of the few stable things in the film industry. A Lillian Gish performance, one always knows, will be a good performance, whether it be in a film, in her autobiography, or in her stage presentation of Lillian Gish and the Movies.

At the end of her delightful autobiography, in writing of D. W. Griffith, Lillian makes her own evaluation of her life. “It seems to me that a happy life should be in balance, that one must live equally in the mind, body and spirit. I carry with me one of D. W.’s favorite quotations.

‘What you get is living. What you give is life.’

The Griffith actresses - cover
The Griffith actresses – cover

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From Public Honor to Public Disgrace: A Chronology of the Tragic Fall of D. W. Griffith’s Reputation in the United States, 1975-2019 – By William M. Drew

From Public Honor to Public Disgrace: A Chronology of the Tragic Fall of D. W. Griffith’s Reputation in the United States, 1975-2019

By William M. Drew

Griffith Stamp USO

1975—The centenary of D. W. Griffith’s birth on January 22, 1875 is widely commemorated in the United States. Highlights include a retrospective of his films at the Museum of Modern Art, television coverage such as interviews with his celebrated actress, Lillian Gish, a number of articles and other publications, and a special postage stamp bearing his name and likeness issued by the US Postal Department.  This celebration of the pioneering director’s life and achievements climaxes a decade of intense interest in, and study of, his work touched off by an earlier Museum of Modern Art retrospective in 1965. In the ensuing years, a number of historians including Kevin Brownlow, William K. Everson, Edward Wagenknecht, Anthony Slide, Russell Merritt, John H. Dorr, Arthur Lennig, and Robert M. Henderson have published many writings on Griffith. Many in this new generation of critics and historians challenge the traditional assumptions of earlier writers like Lewis Jacobs who had argued that the director’s career came to an end due to his outmoded Victorian vision. On the contrary, the new historians maintain in their studies of Griffith’s work that the filmmaker continued to grow as an artist in his later films. In addition to these critical reassessments, such former associates of the director as Lillian Gish and cinematographer Karl Brown have written acclaimed memoirs of their years with the director. Also furthering the reputation of the filmmaker in this period have been the many television appearances in his behalf made by Miss Gish as well as director Orson Welles, the host of a PBS series of silent films in 1972 that included works by Griffith whom Welles lauded as “the premier genius” of the cinema.

Griffith directing Way Down East
D. W. Griffith directing Lillian Gish in “Way Down East” (1920)

In the fall of 1975 a momentous court ruling decides that Griffith’s 1915 film, “The Birth of a Nation,” is now in the public domain. For the past decade, a battle between rival distributors Paul Killiam and Raymond Rohauer over the rights had largely limited public screenings of the controversial Civil War-Reconstruction film to occasional revivals of the abridged 1930 music and effects reissue. It was not available for purchase on 8mm. as it once had been, it was never screened on television during this period, and most 16mm. rental companies specializing in classic films no longer carried it. Such other major Griffith films as “Intolerance,” “Broken Blossoms,” “Way Down East,” and “Orphans of the Storm” had been more widely available and for many cineastes were their introduction to the director. But due to the 1975 court ruling, it will now be possible for many people to view a tinted version of the original silent film production of “The Birth of a Nation.”

Gish 1 X Theater
Lillian Gish and Hollis Moore, BGSU president, in 1976)

1976—On June 11, with Lillian Gish in attendance, the Gish Film Theater and Gallery is dedicated on the campus of Bowling Green State University in Bowling Green, Ohio. At the initiative of Dr. Ralph H. Wolfe, a professor of film and literature and with the support of university president Hollis Moore, the theater has been established to honor the achievements of native Ohioans Lillian and Dorothy Gish. Wolfe had originally intended to name it the Lillian Gish Theater until the actress stated she would prefer that it include her sister as well. Over the years, the theater, located in Hanna Hall, will be enlarged and include a display of photographs obtained from the Museum of Modern Art showing the Gish sisters throughout their careers including a number of images from their years with Griffith. With the support of private donors, many of them prominent in the cinema, and an endowment bestowed by Miss Gish, the theater will become the nucleus of Bowling Green State University’s film studies program, providing free access to students and the public seeking to learn about cinema and its history.

1977—The popular TV series, “Roots,” with its depiction of the travails of a black family in the South in the 19th century, inspires some negative critical references to “The Birth of a Nation” with its very different interpretation of the same era from a white Southern perspective. Nevertheless, the American Film Institute in its tenth anniversary special broadcast on CBS on November 21 does include both “The Birth of a Nation” and “Intolerance” among the 50 greatest American films selected by the organization’s members. Along with Buster Keaton’s “The General” and Charlie Chaplin’s “City Lights” and “Modern Times,” the Griffith epics are the only silents included in the full list, none of which are among the top ten films highlighted on the program which has Lillian Gish as one of the featured stars in attendance.

Henry B. Walthall in "The Birth of a Nation"
Henry B. Walthall in “The Birth of a Nation”

1978—In the first few years of the ready availability of “The Birth of a Nation” following the court ruling regarding its copyright status, most public screenings of the film appear to be without protest or incident.  However, a planned showing of the film in April at the city museum in Riverside, California, where the film was first presented to the public in 1915, is canceled after protests from blacks. A proposed compromise by which a black spokesman would present a rebuttal to the film’s point of view either before or after the three-hour screening had failed to defuse the objections to its being shown.

On July 30 of this same year, there is a more ominous incident connected with a screening of the film when a revived Ku Klux Klan group descends on the Southern California city of Oxnard. In an attempt to fan the flames of discord between whites and Hispanics, the Klan stages a “charitable” event supposedly benefiting white victims of Hispanic crime by showing the abridged 1930 reissue of “The Birth of a Nation.” The event provokes a riot by protesters, an incident which is a major news story throughout the country. While the Klan’s exploitative stunt does nothing to increase its now-miniscule membership or advance its particular agenda, it does bring a fresh amount of negative publicity to the film, laying the groundwork for further protests in the future.

Red Grooms' "Way Down East" sculptures on the NKU campus
Red Grooms’ “Way Down East” sculptures on the NKU campus

1979—On April 12, a large sculptured representation of Griffith and his cinematographer G. W. “Billy” Bitzer filming Lillian Gish on the ice in “Way Down East” is unveiled on the campus of Northern Kentucky University in Covington, Kentucky. The sculptures are the work of noted artist Red Grooms who had conceived of this tribute to early filmmakers after seeing “Way Down East” in 1965 during the Museum of Modern Art’s Griffith retrospective. The first such monument to the director and his career, the colorful sculptures are installed on the university campus as part of its series of tributes to eminent Kentuckians. The “Way Down East” sculptures are well received and for many years will occupy a pride of place in the central part of the campus.

1980—In January, the National Board of Review announces the establishment of the annual David Wark Griffith Award for movie excellence, an honor to be given to outstanding contemporary films, performances and direction as well as for recognition of lifetime achievements. It joins the D. W. Griffith Lifetime Achievement Award, established by the Director’s Guild of America in 1953, as the second such honor to bear the pioneer filmmaker’s name. The National Board of Review’s annual Griffith awards are first presented on February 10 at a private banquet held at Luchow’s, a venerable Manhattan restaurant where Griffith often dined. At the ceremony, chaired by veteran actress Betty Furness, Meryl Streep, Sally Field, Peter Sellers, and John Schlesinger are among the artists who receive Griffith awards for their work in notable films released in 1979. Myrna Loy receives a Griffith award for her lifetime of achievement in cinema, presented to her by a recent co-star of hers, Alan King. Others in attendance at this historic event include Maureen O’Sullivan, Richard Gere, Lauren Hutton, Lee Strasberg, Cliff Robertson, and Dina Merrill.

Hollywood by Kevin Brownlow

The first episode of Kevin Brownlow’s mammoth 13-part television series on the American silent cinema, “Hollywood: A Celebration of the American Silent Film,” premieres in April in cities across the United States including in the San Francisco Bay Area. Containing many interviews with silent veterans combined with much footage from the early cinema, this remarkable series does much to revive interest in the silent cinema. A major part of the first episode deals with “The Birth of a Nation.” Reversing the emphasis in his landmark history of silent film, “The Parade’s Gone By,” published in 1968, in which he hailed Griffith’s 1916 “Intolerance” as having “sparked off one of the most exciting and concentrated creative eras in the history of art,” Brownlow in the first episode of his documentary series now presents “The Birth of a Nation” as the apex of the American cinema’s early development. He devotes considerable time to the racial controversy over the film’s second half, recirculating to a wide audience the claim that the 1915 epic was the principal reason for the Ku Klux Klan’s revival in the 20th century rather than broader social and political factors.

On June 10, 1980, two months after the premiere presentation of the first episode of “Hollywood,” a mob of mostly white radicals calling themselves the International Committee Against Racism stage a riot in San Francisco’s Richelieu Theater which is showing the 1930 sound reissue of “The Birth of a Nation.” Some of the protestors had been active in the anti-Klan protests in Oxnard two years before. Although the theater’s screening has nothing to do with advancing any political agenda and is simply a standard art house revival as part of a double bill with Keaton’s “The General,” the leftist group, determined to suppress the showing of the 1915 film, invades the premises, shouting “Death to the Klan!” In the process, they vandalize the theater, destroying projection equipment and burning a print of the film. As a result of this incident, which is widely reported in the press, public screenings of the film in the United States thereafter will become increasingly rare in succeeding years. On the infrequent occasions when “The Birth of a Nation” is presented to an audience, it will usually be accompanied by a discussion group at its conclusion with individuals representing the black community commenting on the film.

Lillian Gish at AFI 1984 Lifetime Honor

1984—On April 17, there is a nationally televised broadcast on CBS of the American Film Institute’s Lifetime Achievement Award given to Lillian Gish. Only the second woman to receive this distinguished award, the program, recorded in March, features a host of Lillian’s colleagues, most of them from a younger generation, paying warm tribute to the acclaimed actress. The references to Lillian’s associate, D. W. Griffith, including clips from some of the films they made together, elicit applause and cheers.

This same month of April 1984 sees the publication of Richard Schickel’s long-awaited biography of D. W. Griffith. Containing much more information on the director than an earlier biography by Robert M. Henderson published in 1972, Schickel’s book is widely praised by reviewers. This critical appreciation, however, scarcely extends to the book’s subject. Largely ignoring the more positive features of Schickel’s treatment of the director, influential reviewers like David Sterritt and David Thomson emphasize what they see as Griffith’s many flaws as a filmmaker presented in the biography. They maintain that the book provides ample evidence that Griffith fell by the wayside because his vision was such a limited one, bound by the anachronistic Victorian values and prejudices of his youth. For all its inclusion of fresh documentation, therefore, Schickel’s book is marked by a reassertion of the conventional attitudes toward the director of earlier historians like Lewis Jacobs. In reversing the gains in understanding and appreciation of Griffith that had emerged through the work of the new historians in the 1960s and 1970s, Schickel’s biography is thus in synch with the new trend toward ideological conformity in the mid-1980s that will later prove devastating to the filmmaker’s reputation.

Although it is now less often shown publicly to audiences, “The Birth of a Nation” throughout the 1980s becomes more accessible to the public than ever before thanks to its ready availability in the new home video technology. This dissemination thus increasingly focuses attention on this one film at the expense of Griffith’s other works. With political correctness now all the rage in academic studies, “The Birth of a Nation” is often the subject of harsh published analyses excoriating its point of view as a primary indicator of the spread of racism in American history and culture. So corrosive has the film’s reputation become that in some quarters it now even affects negatively the historical standing of Woodrow Wilson. Lauded for decades by liberal historians as one of America’s six greatest presidents along with Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln and the two Roosevelts, Wilson is now more and more referenced in terms of his racial views, specifically his reported praise of “The Birth of a Nation” after viewing it at a special White House screening.

Also throughout the 1980s, Griffith loses through death many of the surviving veteran filmmakers who had been most directly inspired by him and often expressed their indebtedness to him. The passing of such great directors as King Vidor, George Cukor, Rouben Mamoulian, Orson Welles, John Huston and early in the next decade, Frank Capra and Hal Roach deprives Griffith of some of his most visible and eloquent champions.

Actor Life For Me 2

1988—Despite the advent of political correctness in a number of quarters, Griffith and the work he did with his associates still retain considerable respect in the wider world. On July 11 of this year, PBS’ “American Masters” series airs “Lillian Gish: The Actor’s Life for Me,” a sympathetic look at the legendary actress’s career including an appreciation of her collaboration with Griffith. Co-narrated by Miss Gish and Eva Marie Saint, the program is well received by reviewers. Also in 1988, there is the publication by a university press of William Rothman’s book, “The ‘I’ of the Camera,” that includes a sophisticated analysis of Griffith’s work demonstrating a continuity with the historiography of the 1960s and 1970s that championed the director as a complex artist with something meaningful to say.

1989—A major cinematic event of the year is the presentation of an ambitious seven-year reconstruction of Griffith’s “Intolerance” at the New York Film Festival on October 2, complete with a live symphony orchestra performing Joseph Carl Breil’s original score. Coming at the same time that the 1916 masterpiece has been chosen as one of the first 25 American films to be included in the Library of Congress’ new National Film Registry and one year after a highly successful revival of the film at the London Film Festival by Kevin Brownlow’s Photoplay Productions, the new presentation generates impressive advance publicity in the US news media. A joint project between the Museum of Modern Art and the Library of Congress under the direction of Gillian B. Anderson, a music specialist at the Library, and Peter Williamson, a film technician at the Museum, it is promoted as the restoration of “Intolerance” as it was shown at its world premiere at New York’s Liberty Theater in 1916.  Critical response to the reconstruction ranges from rapturous to much less favorable with the latter objecting to the interjection of still frame blow-ups to reproduce lost or missing footage. Nevertheless, there are many who find the film very impressive and powerful in this new presentation, a favorable response repeated at its January 26, 1990 showing at the Castro Theater in San Francisco where the “San Francisco Chronicle” critic, Judy Stone, hails it as “a once-in-a-lifetime event.” Perhaps partly due to the mixed critical reaction as well as the ready availability of other versions of the film in the growing VHS market, the reconstructed “Intolerance” soon disappears from public view.

Intolerance - Medici

1990—With the advance press write-ups of the reconstructed “Intolerance” perhaps the last really favorable publicity Griffith will receive on a wide scale, the climate following its screenings soon becomes much bleaker for the director as attention is more and more focused on its 1915 predecessor. The nation-wide release in February of Edward Zwick’s “Glory,” a critically acclaimed Civil War spectacle about an African-American regiment in the Union Army fighting for its freedom, becomes the occasion for some writers to contrast it with “The Birth of a Nation” to the obvious disadvantage of the latter. Even more ominously for the director’s reputation, newly prominent black directors including Spike Lee and John Singleton repeatedly cite “The Birth” as the embodiment of everything negative that African-Americans had been fighting against for decades, particularly as related to the cinema. From out of the past, the pioneer African-American director Oscar Micheaux is now transformed into a symbol of historic resistance to Griffith. Initially when Micheaux attracted belated attention from historians in the 1970s, he was largely considered a rather pedestrian director on the evidence of his sound films of the ‘30s with his one available silent film, “Body and Soul” (1925), regarded as an exception to an otherwise mediocre track record.  But in the early 1990s, his “Within Our Gates” (1920), a dramatic presentation of racism as it affected blacks in the early 20th century, is rediscovered and restored. With both “Within Our Gates” and “The Birth of a Nation” added to the National Film Registry in 1992, Micheaux’s film is now promoted as the African-American “answer” to Griffith’s 1915 spectacle, although in its own day it was never advertised as such when it was shown almost exclusively to black audiences. Despite the simultaneous inclusion of both historically significant films on the registry, the head of the NAACP protests the film board’s selection of “The Birth” as an undeserved honor “paying tribute to America’s shameful racial history.”

1993—An era comes to an end with the passing of Lillian Gish at the age of 99 on February 27. Although for reasons of age and health she had ceased making personal appearances in the last five years of her life, she had been at the very center of the renaissance of enthusiasm for Griffith’s work, tirelessly being interviewed and lecturing on her association with the director. That same year, two other prominent players who had worked for Griffith late in his career will also die—William Bakewell, who appeared in “The Battle of the Sexes” and “Lady of the Pavements,” on April 15, and Zita Johann, the feminine lead of Griffith’s final film, “The Struggle,” on September 20. With these deaths, the epoch of Griffith’s entire 23-year directorial career has passed into history. Now it will be all the easier for those of a later generation to cast this legacy in a light that furthers their particular agenda.

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On March 24, not quite one month after Lillian Gish’s death, PBS broadcasts an ambitious three-hour documentary by Kevin Brownlow entitled “D. W. Griffith: Father of Film.” A co-production between Britain’s Thames Television with which Brownlow is then affiliated and PBS’ “American Masters” series, the documentary includes an impressive number of interviews and much footage from Griffith’s films. It is produced with all the technical skill for which Brownlow’s documentaries are justly renowned. Yet for all these qualities, the documentary is ultimately a major disappointment. Its chief flaw, one which affects its presentation of Griffith as a whole, is the overemphasis on “The Birth of a Nation.” This focus succeeds in overshadowing his other works even as it exacerbates the old controversy over the 1915 film. With so much time expended on this one production, the documentary’s presentation of the all-important Biograph period seems rushed while there is no real consideration of Griffith’s remarkable impact on filmmakers all over the world. As the reviews attest, even the documentary’s acknowledgment of Griffith’s progressive depictions of social issues in such films as “Intolerance,” “Broken Blossoms,” and “Isn’t Life Wonderful?” has little impact in comparison to the extended treatment given “The Birth,” exemplified by the inclusion of the embittered reaction of veteran black actor William Walker to his experience of seeing the film at the time of its release.  Additionally, the lengthy presentation of inflammatory scenes had caused PBS to insist on yet more “politically correct” material in the form of an interview with black historian John Hope Franklin as a counterbalance. While such material would have been entirely suited to a documentary chronicling the history of the 1915 spectacle, here it has only succeeded in crowding out any look at the director’s wider role in affecting the hearts and imaginations of audiences and film artists the world over. As indicated by the description here of “Hearts of the World” as opportunistic war propaganda in a reversal of Brownlow’s earlier praise for this film as the creation of an artist of integrity, the documentary marks in part a much less favorable view of Griffith than had been evident in the historian’s previous writings. A lost opportunity in interpreting cinema’s first visionary genius for a new generation, “D. W. Griffith: Father of Film,” however inadvertently, paves the way for what will follow in its wake.

David Wark Griffith Isn't Life Wonderful 1924
“Isn’t Life Wonderful?” (1924)

Evidence of Griffith’s collapsing reputation is provided in a book published in this same year of 1993. “The Films of D. W. Griffith” by Scott Simmon, a prominent film historian who had also helped restore Micheaux’s “Within Our Gates,” strikes a highly negative tone toward the director, both as an individual and as an artist. While Simmon does praise some of Griffith’s later work, he mostly regards it as inferior to the early Biographs the filmmaker made in 1910 and 1911 which this historian sees as the highpoint of the director’s entire career. In effect, Simmon’s book in its dismissive view of much of Griffith’s work represents an even more extreme revival of Lewis Jacobs’ treatment of Griffith in his 1939 book, “The Rise of the American Film.” The sophisticated analyses of Griffith’s work that had been such a fresh approach in the 1960s, 1970s and to a somewhat lesser extent the 1980s have been swept away in Simmon’s shallow, superficial study marked by a relentless conventionalism. There are not only the usual expressions of outrage toward “The Birth of a Nation” and the notion that this somehow should determine how the director’s entire work ought to be viewed, there is also the resuscitation of the thesis that Griffith largely declined as an artist in later years due to his supposed limitations. In the 1970s at the height of the Griffith revival, an influential film journal had drawn a contrast between the old-fashioned cinema historian who spoke of Griffith’s decline and the new, more advanced critic who wrote about Griffith’s growth. Symbolic of its throwback to an earlier view of the director, Simmon’s book even gives Griffith’s date of birth as January 23, 1875, a once-common error that during the years of the Griffith revival had given way to the correct date of January 22, 1875.

Midnight Ramble

1994—On October 26, PBS’ “American Experience” broadcasts “Midnight Ramble,” an hour-long documentary on the history of “race” movies, the works of pioneer African-American filmmakers in the silent era and the first two decades of sound. The critically acclaimed documentary places a heavy emphasis on D. W. Griffith and “The Birth of a Nation” and the influence it purportedly had on Oscar Micheaux whose early films including “Within Our Gates” (1920) and “The Symbol of the Unconquered” (1921) are seen as impassioned responses to the 1915 film. Indeed, so much does the documentary stress Griffith’s supposed villainy that it ultimately overshadows any positive understanding of Micheaux as an independent artist with a personal vision of his own. For if Griffith is now defined solely by “The Birth of a Nation,” Micheaux for his part is largely delineated as existing in opposition to Griffith. The documentary also demonstrates how any story depicting Griffith negatively, no matter how questionable its accuracy, can now be packaged as the truth. One of the documentary’s interviewees relates as a factual occurrence the story of Cora Hawkins, a black maid allegedly working for Griffith who was so appalled by “The Birth of a Nation” that she angrily quit the director’s service in protest. In fact, the incident and even the woman, complete with imaginary dialogue, were apparently invented by Homer Croy, a popular white novelist, in his heavily fictionalized, long-discredited 1959 book, “Star Maker: The Story of D. W. Griffith.” Although Croy had devised this episode simply because he thought it would make an entertaining story rather than for any compelling political reason, its inclusion in “Midnight Ramble” gives it far greater significance by making it seem that Griffith was the well-deserved recipient of a black woman’s outrage.

Despite these attacks on Griffith’s reputation, they do not have any apparent effect on the standing of artists who were prominently associated with the director. In this same year of 1994, the Dorothy and Lillian Gish Prize is established through a provision in Lillian’s will, an award to be given annually to an individual who has “made an outstanding contribution to the beauty of the world and to mankind’s enjoyment and understanding of life.”

But while the Gish name is now attached to a significant new honor that will be awarded to many celebrated artists in the years ahead, that of their mentor disappears from another prestigious award. For 1994 also sees the apparent end of the National Board of Review’s Griffith awards which had been given out annually to many distinguished artists and films since 1980. While there is no concrete evidence that the award was targeted for specifically political reasons, its termination at this time is clearly in synch with the downturn in Griffith’s fortunes. The decline of the director’s reputation in the 1990s is further accelerated by the disappearance of a number of notable individuals in the film history field who had championed him over the years. The influential critic, Pauline Kael, who hailed “Intolerance” as the cinema’s greatest achievement, retires from regular reviewing in 1991. Eileen Bowser, the main archivist at the Museum of Modern Art for several decades and who had been at the forefront of the renaissance of interest in Griffith since the 1960s, retires from her position as curator in 1993. Death silences others including in 1993 John H. Dorr, one of the leading new critics who in the 1970s brought fresh appreciation to Griffith’s later works. The death in 1996 of William K. Everson, a very prominent film historian who had been a tireless advocate for Griffith since the 1950s, proves to be an irreparable loss. The passing in 1995 of Griffith’s grand-niece, Gerrie Griffith Reichard, the family member most active in the director’s cause, is yet another dispiriting loss. Although Griffith’s second wife, Evelyn Baldwin, who had a prominent role in the filmmaker’s last work, “The Struggle,” was interviewed for Kevin Brownlow’s documentary, she afterwards vanishes from the limelight and will die in 2004 at the age of 94, a passing unreported in the press.

Hal Skelly, Zita Johann and Evelyn Baldwin in "The Struggle" (1931)
Hal Skelly, Zita Johann and Evelyn Baldwin in “The Struggle” (1931)

On the plus side, much of Griffith’s work is now more visible than ever in the 1990s with excellent quality VHS releases of his films brought out by cinema preservationists David Shepard, Kevin Brownlow, and Paul Killiam and fairly frequent screenings on the new TCM (Turner Classic Movies) cable network. Another positive is the launching in 1997 of the world’s first complete retrospective of all of Griffith’s extant films at the Pordenone Silent Film Festival in northern Italy. The retrospective, which will be an annual feature of the festival until its conclusion in 2008, the centenary of the director’s first film, will result in the publication of a series of volumes comprising scholarly essays on Griffith’s work, many of them written by American historians. Nevertheless, these more hopeful indications of continuing interest in the director’s career are largely offset by the virtual lock that a new generation of cineastes mostly hostile to Griffith has in shaping prevailing attitudes about the pioneer filmmaker.

1997—The renowned director Stanley Kubrick becomes the latest filmmaker to receive the Directors Guild of America’s D. W. Griffith Lifetime Achievement Award. In a recorded acceptance speech played at the DGA’s March 8 ceremony, Kubrick lauds Griffith as the innovator who was “instrumental in transforming movies . . . to an art form,” a man “always ready to take tremendous risks in his films” and who, like Icarus, flew so high that he was burnt by the sun. He concludes his speech by observing that “D. W. Griffith left us with an inspiring and intriguing legacy, and the award in his name is one of the greatest honors a film director can receive, something for which I humbly thank all of you very much.”

afis-100-years-100-movies

1998—On June 16, CBS broadcasts the American Film Institute’s new three-hour special entitled “100 Years … 100 Movies,” a somewhat belated commemoration of the 100th anniversary of the first projected American films in 1896. The AFI honors this historic anniversary by unveiling a list of the 100 greatest American films as determined by 1,500 filmmakers, film critics, prominent citizens, and “randomly selected” filmgoers. As is customary with such lists, many of the selections and omissions are extremely controversial. In particular, the AFI is criticized by many cinephiles for limiting its representation of the silent cinema to just four films—Chaplin’s “The Gold Rush,” “City Lights,” and “Modern Times” and, no. 44 on the list, D. W. Griffith’s “The Birth of a Nation.” Some of the overall criticism comes from such dedicated cineastes as critic Jonathan Rosenbaum who responds with a counter-list of his own that includes more silent films including Griffith’s “Intolerance” and “Broken Blossoms” rather than “The Birth.” But there are others, particularly in the black community, who especially deplore the selection of the 1915 spectacle. This includes the NAACP as well as Camille Cosby, the wife of comedian Bill Cosby, who point to the inclusion of “The Birth” on the AFI’s top 100 list as evidence of the persistence of racism in contemporary American society. Unlike the AFI’s 1977 list of 50 greatest American films which chose “Intolerance” as well as “The Birth,” the 1998 list thus succeeds in creating still more negative publicity for Griffith. The resulting controversy over its continuing prominence as indicated in this list will appear to act as a provocation to those advocating more severe measures to reduce the stature of the film’s director.

Lillian Gish in "Way Down East"
Lillian Gish in “Way Down East”

As if on cue in response to this, there is in 1998 the first attempt to remove one of the few existing honors to Griffith, an effort that sadly succeeds. While for a number of years there had been no controversy over Red Grooms’ “Way Down East” sculptures that had been installed on the Northern Kentucky University campus in 1979, this all begins to change in the 1990s with the escalation of attacks on “The Birth of a Nation” and its director. Students suddenly begin demanding that the sculptures be removed on the grounds that they honor a “racist” filmmaker even though they commemorate another Griffith film, one which did not deal with racial issues at all but instead had condemned the oppression of women in a male-dominated society. As matters come to a head in 1998, none of this is apparently considered in the campus debate when faculty members join the students’ protest. One political science professor declares that Griffith was “responsible for one of the darkest periods in this country’s history” and Grooms’ sculptured tribute was “a dagger in the heart of black people and decent white people who know the history of this man.” As a consequence of such exaggerated demagoguery, the colorful sculptures are removed to a less conspicuous place on the otherwise dreary-looking campus. There they will remain until 2004 when they are finally dismantled and placed in storage.

1999—On December 14, the campaign against Griffith reaches a landmark climax when, in a statement signed by Jack Shea, the current president of the Directors Guild of America, the organization announces that its national board has voted unanimously to retire its most prestigious prize, the D. W. Griffith Lifetime Achievement Award, and to create a new career achievement award with the name to be chosen at a later date. In explaining the move, Shea states: “As we approach a new millennium, the time is right to create a new ultimate honor for film directors that better reflects the sensibilities of our society at this time in our national history. There is no question that D. W. Griffith was a brilliant pioneer filmmaker whose innovations as a visionary film artist led the way for generations of directors. However, it is also true that he helped foster intolerable racial stereotypes.” The DGA’s board had reached the decision to strip Griffith’s name from the award, given out to many of the most acclaimed filmmakers in history, with little debate and without consulting the guild as a whole. The same day of this announcement, Kweisi Mfume, then head of the NAACP, applauds the move, declaring it should never have been named after Griffith in the first place and that people had had to live with the “horrors” caused by “The Birth of a Nation” ever since. Griffith’s biographer, Richard Schickel, whom the DGA had consulted about the issue, also supports the decision, saying that “by any standard [Griffith] was a racist.” Unlike the Northern Kentucky University controversy which received no press coverage outside its region, the DGA’s decision to remove the most noteworthy commemoration of the director in the cinematic capital he had founded is a major news story throughout the country. While this repudiation of Griffith has a number of defenders, it is also strongly criticized by Kevin Brownlow and such well-known filmmakers as Curtis Harrington and William Friedkin. The National Society of Film Critics issues a statement deploring the action, calling it “a depressing example of ‘political correctness’ as an erasure, and rewriting, of American film history, causing a grave disservice to the reputation of a pioneering American filmmaker.” But despite this protest, the DGA does not reverse its decision. However, apparently unable to find another, more politically acceptable directorial legend to replace Griffith’s name on the award, the honor will remain anonymous, a simple “lifetime achievement award.”

Eisenstein Commemorative coins

Even as Griffith’s reputation in his own country spirals downward, glaringly demonstrated by the DGA’s action, his Russian counterpart in a nation undergoing far more dramatic changes meets with a very different fate. In film history, Griffith’s name has been traditionally linked with Sergei M. Eisenstein as a master of montage, the Russian director having acknowledged his indebtedness to the American pioneer whom he called “the grand old man of us all.” As the Soviet Union began to fall apart in the late 1980s, it seemed possible that Eisenstein in Russia, like Griffith in the United States, might fall victim to a form of political correctness with the repudiation of the revolution he had supported and the end of the system which had commissioned his films.  Indeed, both in Russia and elsewhere, critics had emerged who dismissed Eisenstein’s works as outdated reminders of a totalitarian past best forgotten. Like “The Birth of a Nation” which had been blamed for America’s racial ills, Eisenstein’s films had started to be attacked by some writers as having provided cinematic justification for the brutalities of the Soviet regime from its founding in 1917 to the later horrors of collectivization and the purges in the 1930s. It had been a matter of considerable import how Eisenstein would be remembered in the new post-Communist era during his centennial. The answer comes on January 23, 1998, the 100th anniversary of his birth, when the Bank of Russia issues two minted commemorative coins bearing Eisenstein’s name and portrait. On the back of both is the traditional double-headed eagle that has supplanted the hammer and sickle of the former Communist government. But what has not been supplanted in the new Russia is an abiding respect for the cinematic genius whose works stirred audiences around the world.  The honors will continue into the new century with the issuing of an Eisenstein commemorative postage stamp by the Russian government in 2000. Then in 2005 in an agreement between UNESCO, the Russian film company, Mosfilm, and the Russian Vivat Foundation for music and the theatre, a special award is established to be given to deserving individuals in the world of cinematography. This is the UNESCO Sergei Eisenstein Medal which, struck in Russia, bears the likeness and signature of the director. The Russia that seeks to avoid the proscription of major parts of its cultural heritage after decades of enduring the rigors of the party line on artistic and historical issues now stands in stark contrast to the totalitarian purity of political correctness that has decimated Griffith’s reputation in the United States.

2001—Although no medals or other formal honors will come Griffith’s way in the new century, he does receive one notable commemoration if an anonymous one on November 9 when a large-scale entertainment and shopping complex opens in Hollywood. Representing the revitalization of the film capital, the center appropriately includes Babylon Court, an impressive replication of the famous set from “Intolerance.” With the nearby Kodak Theater (later renamed the Dolby Theater) the new permanent home of the annual Academy Awards presentations, Babylon Court furnishes a colorful backdrop to the Oscar show. The idea of paying this tribute to Griffith’s visionary epic with a recreation of the Babylonian set had originated years before with another artist, famed writer Ray Bradbury. He will later point out that his celebrated dystopian novel, “Fahrenheit 451,” was a forecast of political correctness in which literature is suppressed after minority groups protest how they are depicted in specific books. In an era in which Bradbury’s nightmare vision has started to become true in the United States, the one honor Griffith can now have in Hollywood or anywhere else in his native country is a tribute in which his likeness is not displayed nor his name included in its formal title, although it does appear on the accompanying plaque. As such, it represents an ironic recurrence in the state of the director’s fortunes. When he began making films for Biograph, Griffith worked anonymously, attaining a unique form of celebrity as the unknown genius creating the most extraordinary films yet seen. Now, decades after his death, he has been so widely excoriated for “The Birth of a Nation,” the film that made him famous in the United States, that his recognition has to be earned once again through a kind of anonymity, as indicated by the homage paid to him and his epochal masterpiece by Babylon Court.

Modern Griffith Babylon

2004—A fresh reminder of Griffith’s diminished reputation is dramatically illustrated by two very different public responses to “The Birth of a Nation” during this year. A black conceptual artist named DJ Spooky unveils a presentation he calls “Rebirth of a Nation,” a video remix of the 1915 original he calls “a film glorifying a horrible situation.” The project, intended to undercut “The Birth” by using reedited footage to project a contrary point of view, is commissioned by the Lincoln Center Festival. DJ Spooky begins touring the world presenting “Rebirth of a Nation” to audiences in many countries. Although some critics write that his remix is ultimately less than successful, the low regard in which “The Birth” is now held brings DJ Spooky’s presentation considerable praise from more polemical observers and he will continue with the tour for over a decade.

But if a cut-up remix of the film, essentially a politicized variant of “Fractured Flickers,” flourishes as a public exhibition, the same can hardly be said for the original work. In August of this same year of 2004, Charlie Lustman, the current owner of Hollywood’s venerable Silent Movie Theater, announces his intention of showing “The Birth of a Nation.” However, he is forced to cancel the screening, not only because of an impending protest but also due to threats to destroy the theater and even against his life. This time, even the long-obligatory planned inclusion of a black spokesman to counter the film’s point of view has proved unavailing against the forces of intimidation that now reign supreme in a country constantly proclaiming its adherence to democracy.

2007—On June 20, the American Film Institute presents another CBS TV special, “AFI 100 Years. . .100 Movies,” a revised list of 100 American films selected as the greatest from a poll of artists and leaders in the film industry. This time “Intolerance” replaces “The Birth of a Nation” on the list, and for good measure, Keaton’s “The General” and F. W. Murnau’s “Sunrise” are added as well to a selection that also retains the three classic Chaplin features chosen in the previous decade.

2008—Despite the AFI’s belated acknowledgment of Griffith’s most complex epic, a film it had included during its first TV special in 1977 before dropping it two decades later, there is little change in the steep decline in the director’s reputation during the first years of the 21st century although his films continue to be readily available in the new DVD format that has supplanted VHS. But, as indicated by the lack of any significant attention paid in America to the centennial of the onset of his directorial career in 2008, there has been little real progress in a deeper understanding of his career in his native country via publications. The Pordenone Silent Film Festival does observe the anniversary by completing its long, complete retrospective of the director’s work and issuing the last of its scholarly volumes with essays by a number of authorities on the subject, “The Griffith Project,” published by the British Film Institute. In the United States, however, the main scholarly book on Griffith to appear at this time is Melvyn Stokes’ “D. W. Griffith’s ‘The Birth of a Nation:’ A History of the Most Controversial Motion Picture of All Time.” In a rare contrast to the constant obsession with the Civil War-Reconstruction film as the work that defines the director, Howard Blum in 2008 does publish “American Lightning: Terror, Mystery, the Birth of Hollywood, and the Crime of the Century.” This acclaimed book is concerned with the 1910 bombing of the “Los Angeles Times” by trade unionists and the relation of three major figures to this event: William J. Burns, the detective who investigated the case, Clarence Darrow, the lawyer who defended the accused men, and D. W. Griffith, the director who made a series of outstanding films sympathetic to labor. Not a strictly historiographical text but rather an example of the “non-fiction novel” genre pioneered by Truman Capote’s “In Cold Blood,” Blum’s book is nevertheless a gripping narrative of the past with the presentation of Griffith as a socially progressive artist a welcome departure from the incessant attacks on him in many other publications.

A future president confronts the evils of slavery in a lost scene from "Abraham Lincoln" (1930)
A future president confronts the evils of slavery in a lost scene from “Abraham Lincoln” (1930)

The following year, “Stagestruck Filmmaker: D. W. Griffith and the American Theater” by David Mayer, a less salutary result from the Pordenone festival’s retrospective of the director, is published by a university press. The book, a study of the influence of the theater on Griffith’s films, is marred by Mayer’s heavily judgmental view of the director. Repeatedly, Mayer attacks Griffith as dishonest and racist. He even veers off course from the ostensible topic of the book—Griffith’s adaptation of stage techniques to film—by devoting considerable space and research in attempting to prove that the representation of the Civil War and Reconstruction in “The Birth of a Nation” was inaccurate due to the filmmaker’s bias. Mayer writes of a scene in the film in which the viewer sees Lincoln “harassed by . . . abolitionist congressmen, reluctantly sign the Emancipation Proclamation.” In truth, there is no depiction of the Emancipation Proclamation in “The Birth,” a historic event Griffith did not recreate until his 1930 film, “Abraham Lincoln,” where it is shown immediately after a depiction of the brutal mistreatment of the slaves in the south, hardly revealing the racist antagonism toward the landmark decree Mayer imputes to the director. Mayer’s claim that Griffith showed Lincoln signing the document almost against his will in the earlier film is either deliberate misrepresentation or an inexplicable lapse of memory about one of the most easily accessible of all films via the many home video releases.  With his own ideological bias thus apparently overriding a concern for careful historical documentation, Mayer completely misses in his account of Griffith’s stage career the dramatic, long unknown information about this less studied part of his life finally coming to light on the new online digitized newspaper archives.

Mark Cousins - The Story of Film Oddysey

2011—Evidence that the downgrading of Griffith has now become an Anglo-American project is provided by British critic Mark Cousins’ 15-part documentary series, “The Story of Film: An Odyssey.” Based on Cousins’ 2004 book of the same title, the series, which will be shown on TCM two years after its release, is an ambitious effort to trace the history of world cinema from its late 19th century beginnings to the early 21st century. Of all the major cinematic pioneers and innovators with which the series deals, Griffith evokes the least enthusiasm, the most reluctance to praise on the part of Cousins. Whereas in the first episode dealing with the birth of the cinema he eagerly comments on Georges Melies and Edwin S. Porter, he delays any consideration of Griffith until much later in the program when he introduces him by saying he was “over remembered” compared to several notable early women filmmakers who had long been neglected. While disputing his reputation for technical innovation, Cousins does acknowledge and praise the sense of realness Griffith brought to films with his images of nature and moments of psychological intensity. However, he then fires the usual volleys at “The Birth of a Nation,” calling it a “deceitful” film as he assails it for racism. Borrowing directly from the first episode of Brownlow’s “Hollywood” series, he once again blames it as the principal reason for the 20th century revival of the Klan. Turning to “Intolerance,” he notes its spectacle and advanced technique with its influence on such directors as Eisenstein. But he misses any opportunity to discuss the riveting social consciousness of the Modern Story, describing it simply as being about “gangsterism” with characters dressed in “jazz era costumes,” a strange designation for a film made in the 1910s. Cousins has based his whole series on the concept of a binary pitting Hollywood vs. the rest of the world. To this end, he defines the American cinema’s characteristic style as being what he calls “closed romantic realism” by which he means a superficial appearance of realism concealing an escapist, romantic approach. He maintains that, by contrast, the best films made in other countries have dealt much more deeply with the realities of human existence. Hence, in order to position Griffith in the dominant Hollywood tradition of escapism, he has totally ignored the director’s repeated, fierce opposition to the prevailing trends in American narrative films in ways that anticipated French poetic realism and Italian neo-realism. Cousins makes no mention of the tragic masterpiece, “Broken Blossoms,” the powerful study of postwar poverty in Europe, “Isn’t Life Wonderful,?” largely filmed on location in Germany, and Griffith’s final film, “The Struggle,” depicting alcoholism and lower-middle-class life in New York again using authentic settings. Including in his series these films’ challenge to Hollywood norms might have undermined part of his thesis while helping to restore Griffith’s former renown as one of the cinema’s greatest artists.

Dorothy and Lillian Gish in "Orphans of the Storm" (1921)
Dorothy and Lillian Gish in “Orphans of the Storm” (1921)

The sharp decline in Griffith’s reputation does not appear to have had any adverse effect on the star with whom he was most often identified, Lillian Gish, whose work as an actress in silent films continues to be acclaimed despite all the attacks leveled at “The Birth of a Nation.” After all, there had never been a tendency, even in the McCarthy era, to blacklist or condemn actors and actresses merely for appearing in an objectionable film. It was the writers and directors who had been the most often blamed for such works. In this context, there are now critics, professed admirers of Lillian’s extraordinary performances, who attempt to draw a distinction between the actress and the director. An extreme example of this can be found in the writings of Dan Callahan, one of the new generation of film historians apparently unfamiliar with the appreciative analyses of Griffith that had flourished from the 1960s to the 1980s. In a 2006 article for a film journal, Callahan lauded Lillian’s acting in her silents while reviling Griffith as a villainous racist whose association with Miss Gish he represented as a sadomasochistic relationship in which the one positive were her luminous performances transcending his repellent vision. Although in revising this piece for a subsequent book Callahan will tone down some of his most over-the-top rhetoric condemning the director, his basic hostility to Griffith remains intact, a glaring contrast to an illuminating 1980s essay by critic Blake Lucas sensitively analyzing the Griffith-Gish partnership.

Spike Lee Gish Prize

This differentiation between the director and the actress seems to have been successful in helping to avert any controversy over Lillian Gish’s role in cinema history. Over the years since it was initiated in 1994, the annual Dorothy and Lillian Gish Prize has been awarded to many distinguished individuals of color without generating any heated debate. This contrasts with the fate of the DGA’s Griffith award, the removal of which had been justified on the grounds that it might be disturbing to bestow such a noteworthy honor on a black filmmaker. By contrast, when in September of 2013, Spike Lee becomes the recipient of the Dorothy and Lillian Gish Prize, he is quite happy to accept the award, noting the ironies of life inasmuch as two of the films that had the most impact on him when he was a student at New York University were “The Birth of a Nation” and “The Night of the Hunter,” both with Lillian. Lee concludes his acceptance speech by saying, “Peace and love to the Gish sisters.”

iris -barry-griffith

2014—On the eve of the centenary of “The Birth of a Nation,” there is yet another attack on Griffith in the fall, this time from a prominent figure in an institution that had formerly supported him for many years, New York’s Museum of Modern Art Film Library. Griffith had donated his films and memorabilia to MOMA in the 1930s soon after the archive’s founding. The Museum presented its first Griffith retrospective in 1940, accompanied by the book, “D. W. Griffith: American Film Master,” written by the archive’s founder and first curator, Iris Barry. Under the leadership of Eileen Bowser, then the associate curator at MOMA, the archive presented the second retrospective of Griffith’s work in 1965, a series that initiated the significant revival of appreciation of the filmmaker. Promoted to the position of full curator, Bowser during her years at the archive continued to make major progress in the study of Griffith, often working with Lillian Gish and Blanche Sweet on these projects. Bowser also oversaw MOMA’s third Griffith retrospective in 1975, his centenary year.  In 2011, Ron Magliozzi had become the new associate curator and would go on to inherit Bowser’s position as full curator in 2016. However, he hardly seems to share his predecessor’s regard for Griffith. In the fall of 2014, he announces as an exciting new discovery an unreleased silent film that had actually been safeguarded by the Museum decades before. This is a feature-length film with an all-black cast headed by the legendary Bert Williams that was shot in the fall of 1913 at the Biograph studio not long after Griffith had left the company to embark on his own independent production. The all-black film was co-directed by T. Hayes Hunter and Edward Middleton who left the company in early 1914 without having assembled the footage into a production that could be shown to the public. Uncertain what to do with the uncompleted film which did not even have a title, the Biograph management locked up the material in a vault without ever releasing it. With no mention of its filming in the trade publications of the day, the film has been named “Lime Kiln Field Day” by MOMA. While the most probable explanation for its never reaching the public was the departure of the directors combined with Biograph’s reluctance to continue the series of features they made in association with the theatrical partnership of Klaw & Erlanger, Magliozzi advances a different reason, one grounded in a virtual conspiracy theory. He comes up with the idea that Griffith’s racism in “The Birth of a Nation” somehow influenced Biograph managers the year before to shelve the film. As illogical as this interpretation is to explain the fate of this fascinating and mysterious project, the climate against Griffith is now so hostile, including at the very organization which had once furthered his reputation, that anything involving racial issues can be used to condemn him anew.

2015—The observation of the 100th anniversary of the release of “The Birth of a Nation” had effectively been launched in November of 2014 with the publication of “The Birth of a Nation: How a Legendary Filmmaker and a Crusading Editor Reignited America’s Civil War.” Written by journalist Dick Lehr, the book presents the controversy of the film in terms of the contrasting lives of Griffith and William Monroe Trotter, the Boston-based African-American activist who led protests against “The Birth of a Nation” in 1915. While Lehr acknowledges that Griffith and his film were technically brilliant, his depiction of the director and his family background is highly unsympathetic. Griffith is seen merely as a narrow-minded racist who did no more than reflect his father’s values, a convenient villain and foil to the tragic hero of his narrative, William Monroe Trotter. About all he has to say concerning Griffith’s other films is that he “never made another moving picture that matched the power and success of his 1915 blockbuster.” He does write that Griffith demonstrated once again his technical mastery in “Intolerance” but says nothing about its theme and social content, falsely writing that “the reviews were tepid at best.” Lehr does not comment on any of his other works, not even “Broken Blossoms” and “Way Down East,” nor mention the immense impact they had on filmmakers around the world. His main goal is clearly to scapegoat Griffith for all of America’s racial woes since 1915 and to ignore anything that does not fit into his thesis. Lehr’s book becomes the basis of a one-hour documentary produced for PBS by Independent Lens. Entitled “Birth of a Movement: The Battle Against America’s First Blockbuster,” the documentary premieres on February 6, 2017. It reproduces the Manichean interpretation of Lehr’s book with the expected comments by Spike Lee and DJ Spooky, becoming yet one more chapter in the never-ending campaign to demonize Griffith as the arch-racist of American history. Lehr, for his part, capitalizes on the documentary by retitling his book, “The Birth of a Movement: How Birth of a Nation Ignited the Battle for Civil Rights,” for an early 2017 reprinting timed with the release of the PBS film.

Richard Barthelmess and Lillian Gish in "Broken Blossoms" (1919)
Richard Barthelmess and Lillian Gish in “Broken Blossoms” (1919)

With Lehr’s book setting the tone for the 2015 centenary and the years that immediately follow, Griffith, more than ever, is defined almost entirely by what has now become the most reviled of all American films. Comparatively little attention is paid to “Intolerance” during its 2016 centennial, the epic production that at the time of its release moved an African-American critic in Los Angeles’ leading black newspaper, the “California Eagle,” to write that the film “not only demonstrates the wonderful inventive mind” of its creator, “but clearly shows that D. W. Griffith stands out above them all as the greatest humanitarian of the age” in his “clear appeal for justice.”  Instead, it is “The Birth” which is now continually referenced by black filmmakers and critics, a campaign which then influences the larger society in its view of the pioneer director. In a deliberate swipe at Griffith’s film, Nate Parker entitles his 2016 film about Nat Turner, the famous leader of a slave rebellion, “The Birth of a Nation.” Also in 2016, Ava DuVernay’s feature-length documentary, “13th,” dealing with the history of slavery and its long-term effects, includes footage from the 1915 film as part of its jeremiad against white oppression. The year following the PBS documentary based on Lehr’s book, Spike Lee, whatever his positive feelings for the Gish sisters are, includes yet another attack on “The Birth” in his 2018 film, “BlackKkKlansman.” During a frenzied era of demands to tear down all monuments dedicated to Confederate heroes and calls by some to ban the other famous Civil War-Reconstruction film, “Gone With the Wind,” those seeking to launch more direct assaults on “The Birth of a Nation” and its director are confronted with a dilemma. As public presentations of “The Birth” are now exceedingly rare thanks to threats of intimidation, even when showings of the film are accompanied by a black spokesman opposing its perspective, there are no longer opportunities to picket such screenings in protest. The removal of the “Way Down East” sculptures from Northern Kentucky University two decades earlier had eliminated the one existing honor to Griffith on a college campus while stripping his name from the DGA’s Lifetime Achievement Award not long afterwards had terminated his most salient commemoration by the Hollywood film industry. Soon enough, however, those bent on totally removing any positive association with Griffith will manage to find yet another target, one that virtually no one had foreseen could become an object of manufactured outrage.

Ralph Wolfe in the lobby of the Gish Film Theater in October 2016
Dr. Ralph H. Wolfe in the Gish Film Theater at its original Hanna Hall location, BGSU in October 2016

2019—For 40 years, the Gish Film Theater had been a true asset to the campus of Bowling Green State University in Ohio, not only a fitting tribute to the two legendary actresses it honored but a valuable resource for the study and appreciation of the film art. In 2016, however, the new provost and vice-president of the university, Rodney K. Rogers, who came from the business world, was determined to convert Hanna Hall, the home of the Gish Film Theater, into a new location for the College of Business Administration. In order to realize his plans to reshape the building for its new purpose, he had decided to remove the theater and its gallery featuring many photos from the Gishes’ careers to another location. The announced choice for the theater’s new home was to be the Bowen-Thompson Student Union Building. In 2018, following Rogers’ assuming the position of president of the university, the Gish Film Theater was evicted from Hanna Hall to be relocated in the student union building. Despite being the founder and longtime curator of the theater, Dr. Ralph H. Wolfe had not been consulted about the arrangements. As 2019 begins, it is planned to reopen the Gish Film Theater in its new location on March 29 in a rededication to feature an appearance by Lillian Gish’s close friend, actress Eva Marie Saint. Those plans, however, never come to fruition. In February, in the wake of a campus screening of Ava DuVernay’s documentary, “13th,” with its inclusion of footage from “The Birth of a Nation,” the Black Student Union begins clamoring that there should not be a theater named after Lillian Gish because she had starred in a “racist” film. That “The Birth of a Nation” was only one of many films in which she had acted in her 75-year screen career, that the theater was also named for her sister Dorothy who did not even appear in the Civil War-Reconstruction film—none of this matters in the least to the Black Student Union which claims that the theater’s location in the Bowen-Thompson Student Union Building somehow contributes to “an intimidating, even hostile, educational environment.” With protests having escalated into a hate-filled crowd during a late February student meeting, Eva Marie Saint cancels plans to visit BGSU. The scheduled rededication of the theater is now very much in doubt as a university task force considers removing the Gish name from the theater.  Supported by two campus political groups, the College Republicans and the College Democrats, the Black Student Union continues its campaign against the theater using as its hashtag, “Ditch the Gish,” terminology which reveals the highly sexist overtones of this assault on the legacy of two outstanding pioneering female cinema artists who had advanced the cause of women world-wide during their remarkable careers. On April 21, citing the example of the DGA’s removal of Griffith’s name 20 years earlier, the task force recommends removing the Gish name from the theater. The report they issue justifying the move is stunning in its ignorance and narrow-mindedness. Completely disregarding Lillian’s many other films, they claim among other things that her role in “The Birth of a Nation” defined her entire career, a rationale which scarcely explains why her sister should share the same fate. In an effort to persuade the university’s board of trustees to overrule the task force’s recommendation, an online petition is launched urging BGSU to retain the Gish Film Theater. Before the petition can be sent to them, however, the board of trustees votes on May 3 to remove the Gish name from the theater. Once the name is changed from the Gish Film Theater to the BGSU Film Theater, the attractive display of photos of the sisters disappears from the gallery to be replaced by a vacant space as the only indication of what had once been there for several months. Film historian Joseph McBride, who had worked with Lillian on the 1984 AFI tribute, strongly condemns the move in an eloquent article. He joins with Mike Kaplan, who had produced Lillian’s final film, “The Whales of August,” in circulating a letter written by Kaplan urging that the actress not be scapegoated for one film and that her name and that of her sister be restored to the theater. More than 50 prominent artists, writers and scholars, including Martin Scorsese, Helen Mirren, James Earl Jones, Malcolm McDowell, and Lauren Hutton, are among those signing the letter. Articles in publications covering the range of the political spectrum from the “World Socialist Website” on the left to the “National Review” on the right deplore the decision. The BGSU officials, however, are unmoved, even when it is pointed out by McBride that it is ethically questionable for the university to continue taking the money she had bequeathed to the institution while subjecting her to public disgrace. Events have now come full circle from the notable honors accorded Griffith in 1975 to a climate 44 years later in which two celebrated actresses are now disgraced as surrogates for the director with whom they had worked.

William M. Drew – December 2019

BGSU Film Theater

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The Singing Empress (Stuart Oderman)

lillian gish hal holbrook i never sang for my father by r. anderson w playbill 3a

The Singing Empress (Stuart Oderman)

Lillian had returned to the Broadway theatre after a 3 year absence to appear in Robert Anderson’s I Never Sang for My Father, which concerned itself with the animosity between a father and son, and the son’s lack of feeling as the father dies alone, wheelchair-ridden and filled with hate. The play opened in New York on January 25, 1968, after having done good business during its pre-Broadway engagement in Boston. Lillian told an interviewer from The Boston Herald Traveler how she prepares:

1968--lillian-gish-hal-holbrook-i-never-sang-for-my-father
1968–lillian-gish-hal-holbrook-i-never-sang-for-my-father

When I work on a part, I don’t have a pat formula. I wait for the director to tell me what he wants – then I do it. A strong director like Alan [Schneider] pulls all the performances together. In any medium you need a Boss Man, whether it’s films or theatre or on TY. I learned that early with Griffith.

Lillian Gish, Alan Webb and Hal Holbrook in a scene from the Broadway production of the play I Never Sang For My Father 8
Lillian Gish and Hal Holbrook in a scene from the Broadway production of the play “I Never Sang For My Father”.

Clive Barnes, reviewing I Never Sang for My Father for The New York Times, slaughtered any potential the play might have had for a successful run with his opening line: “A soap opera is a soap opera whichever way you slice the soap.” While citing the acting as often  admirable, and acknowledging the believable poignancy of the situation, Barnes complained that the playwright’s intentions were “betrayed by its over obviousness.” Lillian’s performance was singled out for special mention: Lillian Gish’s delicately fluttering mother, warm and attractive, is another performance worthy of a more productive cause. Lillian spoke to this biographer during the first week of the play’s 124-performance run. I Never Sang for My Father, like All the Way Home, is a work with autobiographical overtones. Both plays aren’t what you would call happy Saturday night fare. The lack of communication between father and son is a mighty theme that will forever be constantly explored.

Lillian Gish, Alan Webb and Hal Holbrook in a scene from the Broadway production of the play I Never Sang For My Father 7
Lillian Gish (R), Alan Webb (2L) and Hal Holbrook (2R) in a scene from the Broadway production of the play “I Never Sang For My Father”.

Many things in I Never Sang were stated, as if that should be enough. This is not an Arthur Miller play with a lot of shrieking and fingerpointing accusations and somebody not being there during hard times. Robert Anderson is obviously not a New York thirties protest writer. He writes with restraint and grace and he doesn’t skirt the issues. It took courage to mount this play in a Broadway theatre instead of an off-Broadway house.

the movies mr. griffith and me (03 1969) - hal holbrook and lillian in robert anderson's 1967 play i never sang for my father— with lillian gish.
the movies mr. griffith and me (03 1969) – hal holbrook and lillian in robert anderson’s 1967 play i never sang for my father— with lillian gish.

Hal Holbrook, playing the son who doubles as narrator, does a splendid job of holding everything together, like the Stage Manager did in Our Town. I always felt, when I read the script for the first time, that Anderson’s play should have been a novel, too. So much of the narration plays like prose. I think the play would have a larger audience. Although the play kept Lillian living and working in New York while Dorothy was in Rapollo, Italy, there were weekly visits.

Lillian Gish, Alan Webb and Hal Holbrook in a scene from the Broadway production of the play I Never Sang For My Father 10
Lillian Gish and Hal Holbrook in a scene from the Broadway production of the play “I Never Sang For My Father”.

Lillian’s understudy, former silent film actress Lois Wilson, who had starred in Miss Lulu Bett, The Covered Wagon, and The Great Gatsby, recalled Lillian’s often repeated pattern after the Sunday matinee:

We were playing 3 mats a weekWednesday, Saturday, and Sunday. As soon as the curtain comes down: boom! Lillian dashes down the stairs and right into the taxi waiting to scoot her to Kennedy for a flight to Rome. She’d arrive early the next day, get to Rapollo and stay a day with Dorothy, and then fly back here. Somehow she’d grab a few hours of sleep on the cot in her dressing room and manage to do her show. Thank God for time zones.

Lillian Gish Helen Hayes and Bob Crane (Arsenic)
Lillian Gish Helen Hayes and Bob Crane (Arsenic)

Playing eight shows a week were demanding in themselves, but the visits to Dorothy were beginning to sap her strength. During one of her visits to Rapollo, Lillian was invited to co-star with her longtime friend, actress Helen Hayes, in a television production of Joseph Kesselring’s hit homicidal comedy, Arsenic and Old Lace. Lillian and Helen would be playing two sweet, elderly ladies, sisters, who murder lonely old men after extending an invitation to them to visit and sample their special elderberry wine. Helen Hayes jokingly told this author at their first meeting that she and Lillian had known each other forever.41 In actuality, their friendship, according to close friends, started around 1930. When Lillian had become frustrated with Hollywood after her sound debut in One Romantic Night and decided to return to New York, stage star Helen Hayes had just signed a film contract and was on her way to the coast to begin shooting what was later released as The Sin of Madeline Claudet.

Helen Hayes said: Lillian and I both came up the same way: touring in shows when we were children. Lillian went into films, and I kept on doing stage work.

Lillian Gish - Uncle Vanya
Lillian Gish – Uncle Vanya

Lillian came back to work for Jed Harris in Uncle Vanya, which was her Broadway debut, although she had done stage work many years earlier. She said her voice didn’t record right [on film], and not to expect very much. In those early days of sound, if the studio felt your voice didn’t match your look, you had no future, no chance. Luckily, I came from the stage, and I have no previous silent film career. There were no preconceptions on the part of any producer regarding how I sound on film. I knew that stage people were in demand, and they took us as we were. I spoke 8 shows a week. No amplification. If producers or their scouts could hear us in the last row of the balcony, we were approached with a contract.

Voices were what landed the contract. Faces were what maintained them. Lillian’s voice didn’t register then or now as the sound of a damsel-in-distress, the type she played in those Griffith films. Lillian in those days was a face. I was never a face. I was a stage character.

Helen Hayes and Lillian Gish - Promo for Arsenic and Old Lace
Helen Hayes and Lillian Gish – Promo for Arsenic and Old Lace

Lillian’s three weeks of rehearsals for Arsenic and Old Lace required that she rise before eight in the morning, report to the television studio at ten, rehearse until six, have something to eat, and get back to the theatre by seven, the required half-hour before the curtain went up. It was well after midnight when she would arrive home. With Sunday rehearsals, it meant she was working without a day off. Working straight through the week was nothing unusual for Lillian. A 7-day workweek was commonplace when she began acting in one-reelers for Mr. Griffith in 1912. A full day in a full week in 1968, more than half a century later, made Lillian realize she had come full circle. As long as work was available, she would take it! During rehearsals for Arsenic and Old Lace, Lillian preferred to dine at Longchamps because of their flattering lighting. Lillian had maintained her annual overseas trips for injections of lamb embryos in an effort to keep her looking young. Longchamps had low lights, which didn’t throw too much attention on anyone. Lillian was fearful of looking older and not being able to get any work.

Arsenic and Old Lace
Arsenic and Old Lace

Helen observed: Sometimes she [Lillian Gish] is so closely in tune with her own  drummer she misses the beat of what is going on around her…. All her clothes date from 40 years, but the dresses are still elegant … and they still fit. When it came to work, she’s still sharp as a tack.

Lillian Gish, Helen Hayes and Bob Crane - Arsenic and Old Lace
Lillian Gish, Helen Hayes and Bob Crane – Arsenic and Old Lace

For the final week of rehearsals, prior to the actual taping, Lillian was rising at five to be ready for makeup at seven. Because the taping went beyond the usual time, Lillian missed two performances of the play. Lois Wilson played them. I Never Sang for My Father ended its run on May 11. Shortly afterwards a telephone call from Rapollo informed Lillian that Dorothy had contracted bronchial pneumonia. Three hours later, Lillian was on a plane bound for Italy. With Lillian at her bedside, 70-yearold Dorothy died on June 5, 1968. Next to the passing of her mother, Lillian would regard Dorothy’s death as the second greatest tragedy of her life. Lillian had been raised by her mother to always look after Dorothy because she was younger and more playful. Now that Lillian was alone, she would only have to look after herself. Otherwise they’ll hire another little girl…

Lillian Gish – A Life on Stage and Screen by STUART 0DERMAN

Lillian Gish and Dorothy Gish Signed full frame 1919
Lillian Gish and Dorothy Gish Signed full frame 1919

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Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (1985 – 86)

American Playhouse, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (1985 – 86)

Time and tenacity were important factors in the broadcasting of Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn the following winter (1986) on educational television stations. There is no doubt that Twain’s Huckleberry Finn is an important American novel. Whether it is the American masterpiece will always be a topic of debate.

Twain’s compelling portrait of two dispossessed souls (Huck, a poor, beaten white boy, and Jim, a black man on the run from the degradation of slavery) is a powerful image. The television adaptation of Huckleberry Finn in four episodes over a month’s duration was not necessarily the most convincing way to bring this classic to the small screen. Although the story was approached with care and sensitivity, Jim, no matter how clean cut and sanitized, is still believed by many black Americans to be a cultural stereotype, so that he is articulate and does not rely on dialect does not raise his station.

Adventures of Huck Finn PBS Playhouse 1986 Lillian Gish

In the second episode, Lillian appeared as Mrs. Judith Loftus, an elderly lady who lives in a shack away from the town and senses that the young girl who calls herself Sarah Mary Williams or Mary Sarah Williams doesn’t catch a tossed lump of yarn like a young girl would.

While the production utilized the top drawer talents of Richard Kiley, Barnard Highes, Sada Thompson, Jim Dale, and Geraldine Page in supporting roles, their appearances, wrote television critic John O’Connor for The New York Times, “fell into the category of standard guest shots, mildly interesting and looking a bit hurried.”  (Stuart Oderman)

Lillian Gish Patrick Day Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

Huckleberry Finn, a rambunctious boy adventurer chafing under the bonds of civilization, escapes his humdrum world and his selfish, plotting father by sailing a raft down the Mississippi River.

 

  • Director: Peter H. Hunt
  • Writers: Guy Gallo, Mark Twain (novel)
  • Stars: Patrick Day, Jim Dale, Frederic Forrest

The cast:

Huck Patrick Day ……………………………… Huck
Miss Watson Anne Shropshire ……………………………… Miss Watson
Widow Douglas Sada Thompson ……………………………… Widow Douglas
Tom Sawyer Eugene Oakes ……………………………… Tom Sawyer
Jim Samm-Art Williams ……………………………… Jim
Pap Finn Frederic Forrest ……………………………… Pap Finn
Mrs Loftus Lillian Gish ……………………………… Mrs Loftus
Col. Grangerford Richard Kiley ……………………………… Col. Grangerford
The Duke Jim Dale ……………………………… The Duke
The King Barnard Hughes ……………………………… The King
Blind Negress Butterfly McQueen ……………………………… Blind Negress
Sally Phelps Geraldine Page ……………………………… Sally Phelps
Billy Jason Hankins ……………………………… Billy

Based on the beloved tale by Mark Twain, this made-for-television movie follows tenacious young Huckleberry Finn (Patrick Day) as he fakes his own death to escape his abusive father, Pap (Frederic Forrest). Heading down the Mississippi River, Huck encounters a runaway slave, Jim (Samm-Art Williams), and joins him on his travels. Along the way, Huck and Jim run into an array of eccentric characters, including a shifty duo known as the Duke (Jim Dale) and the King (Barnard Hughes).

Adventures of Huck Finn PBS Playhouse 1986 Houston Chronicle Library
Adventures of Huck Finn PBS Playhouse 1986 Houston Chronicle Library

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Only the Best – A Celebration of Gift Giving in America

Only the Best

A Celebration of Gift Giving in America

By Stuart E. Jacobson

The wonder is that gift giving has never before had a book of its own—so basic is the giving impulse to the human spirit, so ancient its lineage and so all-pervasive its tradition. Only the Best, taking America as its particular province, is a deserved and delectable tribute to the art of elegant and imaginative gift giving. Exquisitely illustrated with scores of large color  photographs, this unique book carries the reader into the lives of some of the best-known and most influential Americans. Amazing, endearing, and amusing in turn are the intimate glimpses these pages afford into personal relations as expressed in gestures of generosity.

Gift giving in America is a tradition and a talent. We give gifts the way we go to the office, routinely and continually—if not always as conventionally. Reflecting our tendency to flamboyance and our inclination for the sentimental, gift giving in America has reached from the gilded edges of the marketplace to the innermost corners of the heart.

Grandma Moses and Lillian Gish - star of 1952 television drama
Grandma Moses and Lillian Gish – star of 1952 television drama based on My Life History – Moses autobiography

Grandma Moses to Lillian Gish

Lillian Gish: “Grandma Moses gave me this painting a little after I did the film ‘Grandma Moses’. She came to my home for dinner with her daughter. Her daughter was an old woman, but Grandma wasn’t. She didn’t know how to say no, and she didn’t know about the market value of her paintings. Nancy Hamilton, writer and producer of such musical reviews as ‘One for the Money and Two for the Show’, wanted to buy one, but it was too expensive, and Grandma said, ‘We could cut it in two and sell her half.’ “I remember asking her, ‘Grandma, you have lived so much longer than I, are there things you know that you could tell me that would help me with my life?’ And she thought for a long time and said, ‘You know, if I have a problem, I do the very best I can; and then I say, Ishkabibble, which in real language means It’s in God’s hands.’ It was so beautiful for her to tell me that. Grandma to me represented what America was all about.”

Only the best : a celebration of gift giving in America - Lillian Gish and a gift painting from Grandma Moses
Only the best : a celebration of gift giving in America – Lillian Gish and a gift painting from Grandma Moses

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Nearly 200 top stars shine at benefit show – 1982

Desert Sun, Number 166, 15 February 1982

Nearly 200 top stars shine at benefit show

“Night of 100 Stars”

NEW YORK (AP) Elizabeth Taylor flubbed a line and said Queen Victoria celebrated her diamond jubilee in 1997. Liza Minnelli did “New York, New York” backed by a chorus line of seven New York Yankees. And the likes of Al Pacino, James Caan, Roger Moore, Robert De Niro and former New York Mayor John Lindsay high-kicked and sang with Radio City Music Hall’s famed Rockettes. Sunday’s one-night stand featured one of the greatest casts in show business history, which was assembled for a $2 million benefit for the Actors’ Fund of America. Billed as the “Night of 100 Stars,” featuring nearly 200 celebrities and a 36-piece orchestra, the show lasted five and half hours, and played to a sell-out crowd of 5,882 people who paid from $50 to $1.000 a seat to see the glittering extravaganza at the huge midtown Manhattan theater.

The Night of 100 Stars - 1982
The Night of 100 Stars – 1982 Lillian Gish

Despite the show’s length the program was taped and will be edited to a three-hour telecast scheduled for an ABC airing March 8 the audience generally remained cheerful during delays between the more than 40 segments in Sunday’s big show. But they occasionally groaned at repeated scenes in which a huge birthday cake commemorating 100 years of the Actors’ Fund was rolled on stage and candles on it were lit as Helen Hayes, Princess Grace and James Earl Jones ticked off major and minor events in each decade.

Elizabeth Taylor and Grace Kelly - night-of-100-stars
Elizabeth Taylor and Grace Kelly – night-of-100-stars

The audience jumped to its feet, applauding, when an ailing Jimmy Cagney, seated in a chair, was saluted along with other Hollywood superstars from Gene Kelly to Lillian Gish, who joined him on stage. Showcasing the top names of stage, screen, TV and music, “Night of 100 Stars” aimed at raising $2 million for the Actors’ Fund, created in 1882 to help needy members of the entertainment community. President Reagan, a former actor, is to be awarded the fund’s special medal of achievement later. The award last was given to President William Howard Taft in 1910.

AP Wire Press Photo Lillian Gish, Miss Piggy, Radio City Muppets (The Night of 100 Stars)
AP Wire Press Photo Lillian Gish, Miss Piggy, Radio City Muppets (The Night of 100 Stars)

GLAMOUR GALS Miss Piggy of the “Muppets” backs up longtime actress Lillian Gish, during finale of the “Night of 100 Stars” gala benefit Sunday night at New York’s Radio City Music Hall.

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Tasteless Film Sex Disturbs Lillian Gish

Santa Cruz Sentinel, Volume 118, Number 256, 31 October 1973

Tasteless Film Sex Disturbs Lillian Gish

BEVERLY HILLS. Calif. (AP) “As an American, I am against censorship of any kind.” remarked Lillian Gish, one of the great stars of the silent screen. She added wistfully, “But I do wish we could do something about taste.” Miss Gish, the fragile beauty of “Birth of a Nation,” “Broken Blossoms” and a host of other silent classics, was paying a return visit to the Hollywood she first saw exactly 60 years ago. She reminisced about the past, particularly her prideful association with D.W. Griffith, but she also talked about present-day films. “Ugliness disturbs me,” she commented, “and much of what is shown on the screen is ugly. Not only in exposure of the human body. I also mean the ugliness of violence. To me, violence is just as offensive as nudity. “Although I do not approve of censorship,

1973 Press Photo Lillian Gish Nov 6 1973 Sun Times B
1973 Press Photo Lillian Gish Nov 6 1973 Sun Times

I wish there were some way to impose taste on the people who make films. It’s not that I mind the portrayal of sex in movies, but sex should be beautiful, an expression of human love. But too often it is made to seem ugly.” A youthful 77, Miss Gish is in the middle of a tour of 30 cities in seven weeks to call attention to her new book. “Dorothy and Lillian Gish,” a $20 family album of the rich careers of the two sisters. She added a historical perspective on the film world’s flirtation with obscenity: “You know. I helped the Italian film industry get started. I went to Rome after the first World War and made the first American film there -The White Sister.’ There was only one broken-down studio in Rome, and we rebuilt it. Then I went to Florence and made another movie, “Romola.”

“I spent two years in Italy, and I had time to learn all about their art. The Italians in the Renaissance went through what our film makers seem to be going through today. Nudity had not been seen before, and at first they exploited it. But then they learned to portray the human body with beauty. “I say to today’s movie makers: Do what you will but do it beautifully.” LillianGish conveyed an air of fragility on the screen, but she is in reality the most resilient of ladies. She has proved that by crossing the country 11 times in the last four years, lecturing to colleges and other audiences on “The Art of the Film.” “I’ve lectured in 41 states only nine to go,” she announced proudly. The barnstorming is a throwback to her childhood, when she and Dorothy toured the country in melodramas.

Lillian Gish, Dorothy Gish and Mary Pickford
Lillian Gish, Dorothy Gish and Mary Pickford

The Gishes made their movie debuts in 1912 in “An Unseen Enemy,” starring a stage chum they had known as Gladys Smith now she calls herself Mary Pickford. The director was D.W. Griffith. It was the start of Lillian’s long, distinguished association with the greatest of the silent film makers. She recalled her arrival in California in 1913: “There was nothing but citrus groves, all the way from San Bernardino. I remember passing a little Santa Fe station named Gish; I never saw it again or learned why it was so named.

1973 Press Photo Lillian Gish promoting book 1973
1973 Press Photo Lillian Gish promoting book 1973

“Our first studio was in a car barn on Pico Boulevard, and they put rugs over the tracks when we were filming. We worked only in the daytime, of course, because we couldn’t shoot when the light failed.” She recalled Hollywood as “a village full of churches and a white hotel with a verandah where old ladies in California for the winter sat in rocking chairs.” Throughout her career, Miss Gish only lived here when she was working.

Her home was, and still is, New York “an awful, dirty, noisy, filthy city, but still the most exciting place in the world.” She recently ended a run in a play there, “Uncle Vanya,” directed by Mike Nichols and starring George C. Scott and Julie Christie. After touring the United States and England for her book, she may do the film version. After that? “I don’t know. Things just happen to me. I never plan.”

Santa Cruz Sentinel, Volume 118, Number 256, 31 October 1973
Santa Cruz Sentinel, Volume 118, Number 256, 31 October 1973

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Grandma Moses – 1989 (Tom Biracree)

AMERICAN WOMEN of ACHIEVEMENT

Grandma Moses – 1989

TOM BIRACREE

“Remember the Ladies.”

That is what Abigail Adams wrote to her husband, John, then a delegate to the Continental Congress, as the Founding Fathers met in Philadelphia to form a new nation in March of 1776. “Be more generous and favorable to them than your ancestors. Do not put such unlimited power in the hands of the Husbands. If particular care and attention is not paid to the Ladies,” Abigail Adams warned, “we are determined to foment a Rebellion, and will not hold ourselves bound by any Laws in which we have no voice, or Representation.”

The Fight for Womens rights
The Fight for Womens rights

The words of Abigail Adams, one of the earliest American advocates of women’s rights, were prophetic. Because when we have not “remembered the ladies,” they have, by their words and deeds, reminded us so forcefully of the omission that we cannot fail to remember them. For the history of American women is as interesting and varied as the history of our nation as a whole. American women have played an integral part in founding, settling, and building our country. Some we remember as remarkable women who—against great odds—achieved distinction in the public arena: Anne Hutchinson, who in the 17th century became a charismatic religious leader; Phillis Wheatley, an 18th-century black slave who became a poet; Susan B. Anthony, whose name is synonymous with the 19th-century women’s rights movement and who led the struggle to enfranchise women; and, in our own century, Amelia Earhart, the first woman to cross the Atlantic Ocean by air. (Matina S. Horner)

Grandma Moses and Lillian Gish - star of 1952 television drama based on My Life History, Moses autobiography
Grandma Moses and Lillian Gish – star of 1952 television drama based on My Life History, Moses autobiography

My Life’s History,

A moving personal account, appeared in 1952. Immensely popular in the United States, it was soon published in England and translated into several foreign languages. Soon after its American publication, the autobiography was made into a television play starring actress Lillian Gish as Grandma Moses.

Grandma Moses, Otto Kallir and Lillian Gish
Grandma Moses, Otto Kallir and Lillian Gish

Painting pictures and writing a book apparently failed to occupy all of Moses’ time. In 1951, she tried a new art form, painting on ceramic tiles. Enjoying the process of making quick sketches of, as she put it, “what the mind may produce,” she created 85 painted tiles in about a year. Some of them, noted Otto Kallir, “are simple designs, almost drawings, with spare use of color; others are little paintings whose flowing colors make interesting effects on the ceramic background.” The public cherished Moses’ zest for life as much as they admired her paintings.

Grandma Moses Her 80th Birthday
Grandma Moses Her 80th Birthday

Americans saw her as living proof that hard work and a positive attitude can pay off, and that life can be rewarding for decades after the age when most people retire. The popular attitude toward Moses was summed up by a 1953 New York Herald Tribune editorial, printed after the artist had appeared at a forum called “New Patterns for Mid-Century Living.”

Grandma Moses
Grandma Moses
Grandma Moses
Grandma Moses

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