Adolph Zukor — Who’s Who in the Film Game (1913) 🇺🇸

December 03, 2024

Speaking for film men, few of them know furs except that they make great top coats and look like money. But even among film men there is one man who knows furs as he knows films and he knew furs first. And as a film man, you would scarcely guess he knew fitch from fox. This man, harking to Greeley’s suggestion to “Go west, young man,” made an early start and kept going for a long time. For he was born in Hungary — the city of Kassi, Hungary, January 7, 1873 [Transcriber’s Note: Zukor was born in Risce, Hungary] and came with his parents to New York when he was only seven. He liked New York. It taught him the fur business. Then he traveled west again until he came to Chicago where he capitalized his knowledge and swept into a competence while the fur business of the Windy City was running smooth as sealskin. Because furriers prospered in Chicago about World’s Fair time as they never prospered before or since. And Chicago, while contributing a fur fortune to this fur-film man, added good measure by bestowing a wife, another man, but a Kauffman — Miss Minnie Kauffman — who became Mrs. Adolph Zukor in 1896. So there you have a brief preliminary skirmish of Adolph Zukor — the A to Z man of the film business; the man who has had trouble all his life in figuring out the difference between working for the pay you get and getting the pay for the work you do.

For Adolph Zukor made his money, or the foundation for it, when he was a kid. He made it by his lonesome. He wouldn’t recognize a pay envelope if it was coming his way. He has been pushing them the other way always. And he believes in the full-measure, bulging kind. The men he employs are high-priced men; men who fit into his theories and practice. Adolph Zukor believes in filming big things with famous actor folk. You have had opportunity to judge him by his works.

But before Adolph Zukor entered actively into film making, he had had quite some little experience back. When he got his money together in Chicago, he returned to New York to seek investment and more things to do. He found his opportunity with the penny arcade — the thing that was easily overlooked by the less discerning. All of Mr. Zukor’s hoard went into the penny arcade business and he followed right along. It wasn’t very long until he owned a string of these amusement places. He was easily persuaded to back the old Hale touring cars, another venture that held little inducement for investors, and like the arcades, the Hale cars piled money into the Zukor fund.

Along about now, came the motion picture, and Adolph Zukor could see it with half an eye. He quietly made his debut in the m. p. business with Marcus Loew. Their first splash was to convert the Grand Theater into a m. p. house. Nobody brought out the band to lend cheer to the enterprise. The few friends who were informed of the experiment, threw up their hands and said the owners were crazy — that they would blink out as fast as they could peel a roll. The Grand Theater was the first legitimate theater of a metropolis to give way to pictures. It has leaked out that it returned a hundred thousand dollars profit that first year. And whisper — Adolph Zukor is still a partner of Loew’s — treasurer, in fact; or in more simple phraseology, the man who looks after the mazuma.

You will observe that Adolph Zukor is coming on in these earlier days and that there has been no blare of trumpets. Nor has he been losing his head, or assuming fine airs or gaudy clothes. He has been eating well, but moderately and having known the gay white way all his life, it has no charm beyond contributing to the general exchequer. With this latter thought predominating, Mr. Zukor sought out one Wm. A. Brady and these two have been associated in legitimate ventures for quite some considerable time.

The idea of forming a motion picture company whereby the art of the world’s famous players might be preserved was one which Mr. Zukor cherished for many years. It was not until two years ago, though, that he was able to interest Charles Frohman in the project, but he was so confident that the idea was a good one that he never despaired of seeing it realized. The Famous Players Film Company of which he is president is now almost two years old and proved its worth from the time of its inception.

Financial returns were not the prime motive for its organization and those who know Mr. Zukor can well believe this. To make the world’s famous players live even after death was the ambition to which he tied his faith and his money. Whatever profits he receives from the company he puts right back.

Mr. Zukor is inobtrusive. He walks, eats, talks and lives quietly. When he talks, he has a point to make and makes it without thumping the desk, or button-holeing his audience. He neither slaps a fellow on the back nor assumes a ten-foot-away-from-him distance. He gestures with his right hand and likes to hold his hat in his left. He laughs and inspires others to do likewise with a quiet, droll humor that is apt to manifest itself on most any occasion. Yet, nobody would call him a humorist nor would they think of him as being ever serious. He would fit in between and the recollection would always be a pleasant one.

He isn’t very tall; he isn’t very short; his hair is neither dark brown nor light brown — it’s a shade between. His eyes are neither brown nor gray — they belong to an unnamed color between these two. He is neither fat nor thin. From nine in the morning until six at night he is at the studio building where he has a medium-size office at equal distances from the studio proper and his assistants’ offices. He knows everybody on the pay-roll and says “Good morning” in the same tone of voice and with the same nod and smile to all. His orders are in the way of suggestions and are always found to supply the need in question.

His greatest pleasure outside of business hours he finds with his family; he’ll tell you he has one wife and two children, Eugene, sixteen and Mildred, fourteen years old. He likes pinochle and plays moderately; he finds great pleasure in autoing and always keeps well within the speed limit with the explanation that otherwise he would be “going against the law.” He enjoys a good cigar of medium strength and size his preference running to broad-leaf with Havana filler. His clothing is never conspicuous — smoke-grays and medium browns being his general choice and his ties are never brilliant, the choice being safe Copenhagen blues, soft mauves and uncompromising shadow stripes.

Adolph Zukor can credit his success to hard work and long hours. He has tremendous energy and knows how to conserve it. It cannot be charged that he is an idle dreamer. When he dreams at all, he demonstrates. He dares to do. The films of the Famous Players Film Company are real films. Adolph Zukor has proven his contention that masters and masterpieces will find an easy market, here and abroad. He knows that beyond the ocean is a field infinitely larger than America affords, so he has been back and forth several times, before he was ready to work on both sides. He is doing that now. The A to Z man is that, all the way, and beyond.