Margaret Mitchell's Gone With the Wind (22 page)

The U.S. Supreme Court finally resolved the problem in early 1937 when it upheld the anti-price-cutting laws, and several states, including New York, moved quickly to authorize manufacturers to set prices on their goods. Macmillan bowed to industry demands and established a three-dollar retail price on
Gone With the Wind
, a decision to which Macy's did not take kindly. The retail giant had more than thirty-seven thousand copies of the book in stock that had been purchased prior to Macmillan setting the price floor. The store suggested that if Macmillan did not want Macy's selling the book at a discount it should buy the books back.
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Macmillan agreed, and the store returned almost thirty-six thousand copies. Macy's also canceled a previously placed order for an additional ten thousand copies.
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Relations between Macmillan and Macy's suffered, but Macmillan shed no tears over the rift. Thousands of retailers snapped up the returned copies and happily sold the book at its full retail price.

One place Mitchell failed to generate much attention in the summer of 1936 was England. By the end of July, Macmillan London still had not released its edition of
Gone With the Wind
. Although the two Macmillan firms had not agreed to a specific publication date, common sense suggested that the London house would rush the book's release to take advantage of its enthusiastic reception in North America. When Mitchell began asking questions, James Putnam agreed to find out what was going on and to stir up the Brits.
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He was surely not happy to learn that, although the British publisher already had the books printed, it planned to hold the release for another month. Also disappointing, the British house had ordered a first run of only three thousand copies and did not sound optimistic that a second run would be necessary.
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On August 25, Putnam gave Marsh the unhappy news that the British edition would not make its debut until September 29. He tendered the weak excuse that maybe the delay gave the London house additional time to build anticipation for the book.
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Insult was added to injury when Mitchell realized she had never received her advance from London. When she raised the issue with Macmillan New York, it must have been unsettling to learn that the check had been sent to the U.S. firm but nobody had bothered to credit the funds to her account.
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Although a simple mix-up, it was one of many wakeup calls the Marshes received that they needed to be vigilant in protecting Mitchell's interests.

At the opposite end of the excitement spectrum from Macmillan London, David O. Selznick could barely contain himself in his eagerness to capitalize on
Gone With the Wind
. As the book catapulted into publishing history that summer, his purchase of the movie rights for fifty thousand dollars now seemed a tremendous bargain. Twentieth Century-Fox and Warner Brothers offered to buy the rights from him, but Selznick refused to sell, even at double what he paid.
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Great things were in store for Scarlett and Rhett, and he intended to go along for the ride.

Selznick was wrapping up one film and beginning work on another, so he knew it would be months before he could turn his full attention to
Gone With the Wind
. He asked his staff to keep the fires of public interest stoked. That September, the studio arranged for a scene from the book to air on CBS Radio. Popular movie stars Robert Montgomery and Constance Bennett were hurriedly cast in the lead roles, earning them the distinction of being the first actors to bring Scarlett and Rhett to life. But they would not be afforded the honor of immortalizing the famous lovers on screen. Selznick wanted to create a sense of excitement about the film's casting and, through his publicist Russell Birdwell, planted items in the Hollywood gossip columns that the producer was looking for fresh faces for many of the roles in the film. The studio's efforts succeeded beyond Selznick's wildest imagination. The producer was flooded with mail about the project. Actors begged for the opportunity to bring Mitchell's characters to life on the big screen. Moviegoers suggested which of their favorite stars should be cast in the picture. By the end of the year, he had received seventy-five thousand letters about
Gone With the Wind
.
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Macmillan, of course, welcomed Selznick's efforts to draw attention to Mitchell's book. A representative of the publisher's San Francisco office told Birdwell that the producer's campaign was one of the best, if not the best, he had ever seen. Delighted with the compliment, Birdwell suggested that the two firms should put their heads together and develop ideas that would prove mutually beneficial. He promised that Macmillan could count on Selznick to fully “exploit”
Gone With the Wind
.
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Exploitation is a word to which Mitchell could relate. With Selznick and Macmillan pushing the publicity over the movie deal that August, the pressure on her grew unbearable. The phone continued to ring around the clock. People begged for her autograph wherever she went. Invitations for her to give speeches arrived on a daily basis. The press hounded her for interviews. Marsh responded to a
Time
magazine inquiry on August 3 with a telegram indicating she had had enough: “MRS MARSH SICK IN BED AS RESULT OF STRAIN OF BECOMING FAMOUS TOO SUDDENLY.”
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Mitchell was suffering from a severe case of eyestrain and, under doctor's orders, needed to rest in a dark room with a bandage over her eyes.

Heeding Marsh's earlier warning about what would happen if Macmillan did not shield Mitchell from the glare of the spotlight, Cole and Putnam did what they could to divert attention from the weary author. When fans sent books to Macmillan asking for the author's signature, they refused to forward them. Putnam declined to turn over Mitchell's contact information to the many people asking for it, including the prestigious Bread Loaf Writers' Conference.
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Cole discouraged anyone who wanted to offer Mitchell writing assignments, even their mutual alma mater, Smith College, which hoped the author would write a short piece for its alumnae magazine. Cole also refused to write the piece herself, knowing Mitchell did not want any more publicity and would not appreciate her capitalizing on their relationship. Putnam wrote Marsh on August 11, proclaiming to understand the author's reluctance to join the media hype: “I personally cannot but feel that if she had been the sort of person who could she might never have written the book she did—so let those who can, satisfy the curiosity of the mob, and let her rest on her laurels, or better yet behind them for they are certainly piled up high enough to serve as an excellent screen.”
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He hoped that her eyes improved rapidly and assured Marsh that his wife's reluctance to be in the public arena was of no importance.

With such a gentle hand, Cole and Putnam might have eventually drawn Mitchell out of her shell. While she was not ever likely to embrace the spotlight, they harbored hope of her returning to New York that fall for some sort of publicity event. It would look odd if she did not make any appearance, and they were doing their best to keep Mitchell happy so she would be willing when the time came. The ultimate test of Macmillan's patience with its new star author was yet to come though. There were still issues to deal with on the movie contract, and it is here Mitchell would learn how far her publisher was willing to go—or not go—on her behalf.

After signing the movie contract, Mitchell returned to Atlanta confident she had done the right thing. The bloom quickly faded from the rose though when rumors spread that Selznick had been willing to pay more than $100,000 and that other studios had offered Selznick $150,000 for the rights.
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Mitchell bristled at stories that she had been swindled by the slick movie company.
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Her discontent grew when the Mitchell-Marsh family reviewed the contract again and realized there were many “pits and deadfalls” in the document that could come back to haunt the author, in addition to those they had identified in July.
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Marsh asked several pointed questions that his brother-in-law could not answer. “When Margaret sat down with us and talked, it was apparent that we had not known what was happening, and that the contract was an onerous one,” Stephens Mitchell said years later.
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One clause that stood out was a provision they dubbed the “God Almighty clause,” which required Margaret Mitchell to protect
Gone With
the Wind
's copyright even in foreign countries. The Marshes understood why Selznick included the provision—it offered him comfort that foreign movie producers would not be able to release their own cinematic versions of Mitchell's story to compete with his. But, the Atlantans thought, it was absurd to expect the author, who knew nothing about international copyright law, to take on responsibility for fighting foreign movie producers. In any event, Macmillan owned the copyright both in the United States and abroad and, therefore, ought to be the one protecting those interests. Stephens Mitchell accepted responsibility for having let Richard Brett and J. Swords gloss over the copyright problems and placed the blame on himself for his sister ending up in such a mess.

Not willing to admit Selznick got the best of her, Margaret Mitchell refused to ask the producer for concessions. The Mitchell family honored its contracts. But she did have a bone to pick with Macmillan for letting her sign the burdensome document. The publisher had talked her into selling the rights, so she expected the firm to step in and fix the situation by assuming responsibility for protecting its own copyright. Not only was this fair, it made practical sense as well. Macmillan was far better qualified than she to track copyright renewal deadlines and the intricacies of international copyright law.
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Marsh wrote to Putnam the first week of August, presenting the situation to him. Hoping to keep Mitchell happy, the amiable Putnam felt sure the technical points could be adjusted satisfactorily. Macmillan would be glad to do anything it could to relieve worry on Mitchell's part. He noted, however, that the matter would have to be resolved by George Brett, Jr., who was on vacation.
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The situation simmered on the back burner for several weeks until Brett returned to the office. But even then, the publisher did not focus on Mitchell's complaints about the Selznick contract. His father had taken ill and died suddenly on September 19. Distracted, Brett did not take the time to investigate what had transpired on the movie deal before formulating a response to Marsh's demand. Based on what Brett knew of the negotiations, which apparently was not much, he saw no reason for Macmillan to get involved. If the author did not like the movie deal, she should blame her agent, Annie Laurie Williams, or her lawyer, Stephens Mitchell. Brett acknowledged that Macmillan had originally agreed to act as broker in the negotiations but took the position that the publisher absolved itself of responsibility when Williams was substituted for Macmillan in that capacity. Moreover, because Mitchell brought her own lawyer to New York, Brett asserted that the Macmillan lawyer participated in the negotiations only on behalf of the publishing company.
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In other words, tough luck.