I picked up a book the other day about a chap called Szmuel Gelbfisz, aka Samuel Goldwyn, the chap who put the middle in Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. But having given his name, he didn't have a role and went on to be a big cheese independent producer. He also turns out to be a chap who invented a stirring founding tale, some of which might be true.
Born somewhere near Warsaw. Walks to Hamburg, a walk which involved swimming across a river at night to avoid the border guards. Scratches around with relatives until he can catch a boat to England. Scratches around with more relatives until he walks to Liverpool to catch a boat to Halifax, the one in Canada, in the winter. Walks through the snow to New York. Scratches around some more. Walks to upstate new York where he works his way to big-cheese-hood in the glove business in Gloversville NY, not that far from where we were last Autumn. Not much good at making gloves, but he turned out to be very good at selling them.
Having achieved big-cheese-hood at about the time that films were invented, he moved in on that and the rest is history.
What impressed me was the sort of poverty and misery - or perhaps hate - there must have been to drive ambitious and able men to such lengths.
The book, however, was a bit dense & dreary. Not really that interested in all that Hollywood tittle-tattle, so the book is now en-route to the Oxfam skip at the Kiln Road branch of Sainsbury's.
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