Margaret Mitchell's Gone With the Wind (41 page)

About the only good qualities Scarlett had were courage and a refusal to admit defeat. But on the other side she was selfish, vain, almost illiterate, a bungler in her dealings with other people, a person with shoddy tastes and a fondness for cheap companions. She neglected her children and she was the ruination of every man who loved her. She stopped at nothing in her grasping determination to make money, including cheating, swindling, and cruel abuse of the helpless convicts she hired. She committed murder, she stole her sister's sweetheart with a lie, and she offered her body for sale at a price.
¹⁴

The editor begrudgingly dropped the story but could not resist asking Mitchell to consider writing a piece for the magazine about the difference between publicity for a movie star and for a private individual. She declined, and Mitchell and Morris apparently never spoke again.

A more pleasant encounter with friends from her Smith College days occurred that June, when Mitchell and Lois Cole traveled to Northampton, Massachusetts, where the author received an honorary master of arts degree from her alma mater. While in the Northeast, Mitchell also conducted some business in New York. She called on Saunders at her apartment and, by all accounts, had a pleasant visit. Mitchell was surprised to discover that the agent lived and worked in an elegant art deco building in Gramercy Park. “Your apartment was the nicest and most interesting one I saw on my trip,” she gushed to Saunders upon her return to Atlanta. “I did not believe New Yorkers were lucky enough to have such large living quarters, and trees too.”
¹⁵

The following month, Marsh and Stephens Mitchell traveled to New York to meet with Selznick representatives on the unresolved issue of the commercial tie-ups associated with
Gone With the Wind
. Selznick had almost finished filming, and the release was still scheduled for that fall. Before the movie promotion started, the Marshes wanted to settle once and for all who owned the rights to the characters and related products. After several days of meetings, a deal was reached establishing that such products would be managed by Loew's, which was coordinating publicity for the film pursuant to Selznick's deal with MGM.
¹⁶
The author would receive one thousand dollars, plus a sliding scale of royalties on the net profits from the sale of all
GWTW
merchandise. Mitchell also obtained assurances that her name would not be used in the advertising or exploitation of any product licensed by the movie people and that she retained control of her characters and their names, including the rights to use them in any new stories. She expressed tremendous relief at resolving this “disorder” that had been worrying her since the book's publication.
¹⁷

Macmillan, too, had plans to join forces with Selznick. Over the previous three years, the publisher and the studio had mulled over various ideas for commemorating the movie in print. They had considered issuing a bound version of the film's script but, in August 1939, settled on a paperback edition of Mitchell's original text to be illustrated with color photographs of scenes from the film. At Brett's suggestion, the images would progress throughout the story, letting Mitchell's tale unfold from beginning to end.
¹⁸

With the movie release a few months away, time was of the essence to get the book into production. As soon as the decision was made, sales manager Alec Blanton flew to California to review movie footage and select images of the characters in action. He wrote to New York raving about the quality of Selznick's production. Eager to get the ball rolling, he asked Selznick for sample images to take back to Brett for approval. The producer was reluctant to let any of the film out of his control for fear it would be leaked to the press. The most he would agree to share were negatives of two still images of characters in costume and a few discarded screen prints. The studio impressed upon Blanton that the images were priceless and had to be handled with extreme care.
¹⁹

In a marked departure from Brett's policy of pricing
Gone With the
Wind
aggressively, he decided on a rock-bottom retail price of sixty-nine cents for the motion picture edition. At that rate, he predicted, the firm could safely order a first printing of 350,000 copies. He did not expect to make much money on the book but hoped to get it into untapped markets. Selling that many more copies of a three-year-old title, he told Mitchell, would bring “a certain kudos . . . to the fair name of Macmillan.”
²⁰
She wished the firm luck: “I do not know to whom [Blanton] is going to sell these copies but I believe he will do it.”
²¹

Although a deal had not yet been finalized with Selznick, Blanton had been testing the market for weeks, and retailers already were lining up. Sears, Roebuck agreed to purchase fifteen thousand copies, with the option to purchase an additional ten thousand. The store also promised to promote the movie edition in its famous Christmas catalog.
²²
With enthusiasm building, Macmillan released details of the motion picture edition to
Publishers
Weekly
. On August 12, 1939, the magazine ran an article describing Macmillan's “bold move” of releasing a new edition of Mitchell's book after having already sold 1,445,000 copies of the $3.00 edition and 338,000 of the $1.49 format. The article described the new format to the “excited” trade and announced the book would be on sale in November, just before the movie opened. Macmillan promised a “high-geared” promotional campaign that would run nationwide in coordination with the film's release. The publisher assured bookstores that promotional posters and further details would be provided soon.
²³

Amidst all this activity, the question arose as to whether Macmillan should try to capitalize on the unused serial rights. Perhaps a serialization would serve as good advertising for the movie edition.
²⁴
And, with all the excitement building about the film, interest in
Gone With the Wind
appeared to be at an all-time high. Nobody could say for sure whether that interest would remain after the movie's release. Although these were valid reasons to proceed, the idea never got off the ground. Trouble arose with the motion picture edition, and Macmillan had to focus its efforts there.

The more enthused Brett became about the movie edition, the more Selznick seemed to have second thoughts. As they haggled over the details of their joint venture, Selznick raised troubling questions about how the book should be distributed. Macmillan planned on a nationwide release in bookstores timed to coincide with the movie premiere in Atlanta. Selznick was not so sure this would work. After the premiere, the movie would open in stages from city to city, and Selznick did not want the book available in places where the movie had not yet been shown. He felt that the more the studio held back on what Scarlett and Rhett looked like, the more eager people would be to see the movie. He proposed that Macmillan wait until the following spring to release the book. Selznick also questioned why third-party retail outlets had to be involved in distribution. Why not sell the movie books in the theaters? He had millions invested in the film and had no desire to share the wealth with Sears or other retailers.
²⁵
Macmillan balked at both proposals and, by the end of August, the publisher and the studio were in a deadlock. Brett canceled all the orders the firm had received for the edition.
²⁶

Financially and emotionally invested in the motion picture edition, Brett viewed this as a major catastrophe. Macmillan had spent several thousand dollars on design and print work for the new edition, and the advertising campaign was already in development. Frantic for a backup plan, Brett grasped for ways to create a special edition of
Gone With the Wind
that would not involve images from the film. He considered using generic photographs of the Civil War era. Mitchell proposed using illustrations from the Danish edition. Norman Berg suggested they could add a photograph of Mitchell and a history of the book. None of these ideas appealed to Brett, so he begged Selznick to reconsider. There was a flurry of long-distance phone calls, as well as a series of meetings in New York between Macmillan representatives and Selznick's agents. The most Brett could get out of the producer was permission to use a handful of promotional stills of the actors in costume, as opposed to actual scenes from the film.
²⁷
Publication would be allowed, at the earliest, two months after the movie's release.

On September 14, with the clock ticking, the publisher proposed the new format to Mitchell. Now, not expecting to make any profit on the book, Brett asked her to waive her royalty if Macmillan did not sell at least 250,000 copies. If, by luck, the firm managed to top that, he offered a meager sliding scale of royalties. Mitchell wired back the next day that she would play along with Brett if she received a share of the profits should the book sell better than expected: “IF I GET NOTHING IF YOU LOSE I SHOULD GET PART OF THE PROFITS IF YOU WIN.”
²⁸
Brett understood Mitchell's point but would not adjust the proposal. He wrote back explaining that the firm was putting up the cash to produce the book and, therefore, had more to lose than she. For that reason, Macmillan should reap the benefit if the book succeeded. Furthermore, after setting out detailed cost assumptions and calculations, Brett explained that Mitchell would be earning more per copy than Macmillan.
²⁹
If she did not agree to his terms, the motion picture edition would be scratched.

Realizing a battle of letters would get them nowhere, Marsh and Brett hashed matters out over the telephone on September 22, 1939. The Marshes understood Brett's financial justifications but pointed out that Mitchell, too, was taking a risk in authorizing the motion picture edition. If Macmillan did not release that edition, there would certainly be a surge in demand for the three-dollar edition, which would earn her full royalties. She was willing to gamble that the cheap movie edition would sell enough copies to be worth it in the long run but thought she should be rewarded for the chance she was taking.
³⁰
In the end, Mitchell accepted that she would have to waive her royalties if Macmillan sold less than 250,000 copies, and the publisher agreed to an improved schedule of adjusted royalties if the book sold more.
³¹

With that settled, Brett flew to Los Angeles to finalize a deal with Selznick. He returned a few days later disheartened. The producer would not release the images until February 1940. Although Brett held out hope Selznick might change his mind, the publisher was not optimistic. He wrote to Mitchell on October 6 seething with frustration. If he had been an older man, he said, the negotiations might have given him “high blood pressure and a stroke.”
³²
Brett described the experience as the most exasperating of his publishing career.
³³

By this time, it appeared the Atlanta movie premiere would be delayed to December, although no date had been specified. It was to be a star-studded media event, and Brett desperately wanted a new book to sell during the celebration and in the weeks afterward as the movie made its way through America's major cities. He toyed with the idea of reprinting the cheap edition, but that would mean going back on the representation that the $1.49 price tag was a limited-time offer. He mulled over the problem with Luise Sims, the book buyer at Atlanta's Davison-Paxon department store, where Mitchell's first autograph session had been held on publication day. The two agreed there had to be some type of special edition to mark the movie's release and that they could not depend on Selznick coming around at the last minute. They decided on two special editions: a new two-dollar hardcover version for general release across the country and a deluxe two-volume set, limited to one thousand copies, to be sold exclusively at Davison-Paxon.
³⁴

Brett pitched the plan to Mitchell by letter on October 23, 1939. Admitting the two-dollar edition was not a slam dunk, he suggested that she accept half her normal royalty. With the confidence of a man accustomed to getting his way, he enclosed an extra copy of the letter so she could sign it to show her acceptance. Mitchell did not fall for the glib routine. She could not comprehend why Brett thought she ought to bear the cost of the proposed edition. But, her reply started with some light banter away from the heart of the matter. The author understood Brett's frustration with Selznick and suggested the publisher might now appreciate the aggravation she had endured in dealing with the movie people: “Perhaps now you may believe some of the stories I told you about them, whereas at the time you probably had the inner thought, ‘Yes, this Margaret Mitchell of ours has a wonderful imagination, but just a bit too melodramatic.' ”
³⁵
She then encouraged Brett to remain optimistic—Selznick would surely recognize that the publicity benefits of the motion picture edition were too attractive to pass up.

With the pleasantries aside, Mitchell turned to the reduced royalty. After all that had gone on between them, she could not believe he had the nerve to ask such a thing. “If you want to deviate from the contract, and if you ask me to make concessions in order to help you in a gamble, then I should not be the only one to make concessions,” she wrote. “You should make concessions, too, and you should
offer
to make them. It is not right for you to put me in the embarrassing position of having to ask for them each time.” When she sold
Gone With the Wind
to Macmillan, the company accepted the risk of publishing her story. When Macmillan sold far more copies than predicted, its risk had paid off, but Mitchell had not come back asking for more money. “I made a contract and I stuck to it. I do not mean either that I resented the profit you made. You paid me what you had agreed to pay, and I did not expect or want anything more.”
³⁶
But if Macmillan wanted her to share the risk now, then she should be entitled to a portion of the earnings if the new edition succeeded.