Schirmer Encyclopedia of Film

Columbia
feature films that were sold through states-rights distributors.
These cut-rate programmers also sold well, convincing
Brandt and the Cohns to upgrade their
operation. In January 1924 they incorporated CBC as
Columbia Pictures, moving into new offices in New York
while expanding their Hollywood plant. Brandt and Jack
Cohn remained in New York as president and vice president
in charge of sales, respectively, with Harry running
the studio as vice president in charge of production.
Columbia continued to expand in the following years,
developing a national distribution setup and steadily
absorbing its Poverty Row environs until it encompassed
most of the city block bordered by Sunset, Beechwood,
Fountain, and Gower Street—thus the appellation
‘‘Gower Gulch.’’ Columbia churned out low-grade programmers
at an impressive rate during the late silent era,
many of them directed by Reeves (‘‘Breezy’’) Eason
(1886–1956) and George B. Seitz (1888–1944), but
none was of any real note or suitable for first-run release.
Columbia’s fortunes began to change in late 1927
with the arrival of Frank Capra, who was recruited by
the studio manager, Sam Briskin (1896–1968), to write
and direct a typically modest feature, That Certain Thing
(1928). At age thirty (six years younger than Harry Cohn),
Capra had considerable experience as a writer and director,
notably on several Harry Langdon silent comedies for
producer Mack Sennett (1880–1960). Capra quickly
caught on at Columbia, directing five pictures in less than
a year, and Cohn assigned him to the studio’s most
ambitious project to date, Submarine (1928), an action
drama co-starring Jack Holt (1888–1951) and Ralph
Graves (1900–1977). The film involved underwater photography
and visual effects and was Columbia’s first to
utilize sound effects and a musical score. Launched with
a Broadway premier, a rarity for Columbia, Submarine
was a modest hit and solidified Capra’s status as
Columbia’s top director. He then directed another hit
‘‘service picture’’ with Holt and Graves, Flight (1929), as
well as Columbia’s first all-talkie, The Donovan Affair
(1929). By then Cohn was actively touting his star director
to the trade press, announcing that ‘‘Capra will make
nothing but ‘specials’ for Columbia from now on.’’
Columbia also issued its first successful stock offering
in 1929, edging closer to the established Hollywood
powers—although still a minor-league studio. In 1930, at
the height of the talkie boom and one year after its first
issue on the New York Stock Exchange, Columbia’s
assets of $5.8 million were dwarfed by those of integrated
majors like Paramount ($306 million), Warner Bros. ($230
million), and MGM ($128 million). Even Universal, which
like Columbia did not own a theater chain, had far greater
assets of $17 million due to the value of its Universal City
plant. Moreover, the quality and quantity of Columbia’s
productions were scarcely on a par with the other studios’
output; they produced from fifty to sixty pictures per year
in 1929 and 1930, with at least a dozen budgeted at
$500,000 or more. Even Universal, with its relatively
meager assets, was producing about forty films per year,
including a few prestige pictures like Broadway (1929) and
All Quiet on the Western Front (1930), each budgeted at
over $1 million. Columbia, meanwhile, produced some
two dozen features per year in 1929 and 1930, budgeted
between $50,000 and $150,000, with an occasional project
in the $200,000 range.
When the Depression hit the industry in 1931, however,
Columbia was suddenly in a more favorable position
than its competitors for three basic reasons. First, it owned
no theaters and thus was not saddled with debilitating
mortgage payments. Second, Harry Cohn’s autocratic,
tight-fisted management style ideally suited the depressed
economic climate. And third, the efficient output of
B-grade programmers, serials, and shorts, along with the
occasional A-class picture and Capra-directed ‘‘special,’’
jibed perfectly with the Depression-era penchant for double
bills and evening-long programs. Thus, Columbia’s
production and market strategy paid dividends during
the 1930s as the studio turned a profit year after year
and saw its assets increase to $15.9 million in 1940—a
phenomenal achievement matched only by MGM.
CAPRA, COHN, AND THE
COLUMBIA HOUSE STYLE
The key factor in Columbia Picture’s Depression-era
climb and its development of a distinctive house style
was, without question, its remarkable run of Capradirected
hits—notably Platinum Blonde (1931), Miracle
Woman (1931), American Madness (1932), Lady for a
Day (1933), It Happened One Night (1934), Mr. Deeds
Goes to Town (1936), You Can’t Take It with You
(1938), and Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939). All
were huge moneymakers for Columbia Pictures, which
finally shed its Poverty Row stigma during the 1930s,
and they brought critical recognition as well. Capra’s
films scored six Academy AwardÒ nominations for Best
Picture and five nominations for Best Director. It
Happened One Night and You Can’t Take It with You
both won the Best Picture OscarÒ, and Capra won Best
Director three times in a five-year span (1934, 1936, and
1938), a feat unmatched in industry history.
Equally important to Columbia’s surge was Harry
Cohn, whose authority over the studio—and Columbia
Pictures at large—increased dramatically in 1932, when
he prevailed in a struggle with Joe Brandt and his older
brother Jack for control of the company, thanks to the
unexpected backing by A. H. Giannini of the (renamed)
Bank of America. Consequently, Brandt sold his stake in
Columbia and Harry Cohn assumed the presidency,
344 SCHIRMER ENCYCLOPEDIA OF FILM