What Kind of a Fellow Is — Abrams? (1917) 🇺🇸

Being a glance at the real human side of the big men of the picture game — caught in action!

by William A. Johnston

There are two remarkable facts about Hiram Abrams — aside from his being president of Paramount Pictures Corporation.

The first is that he did not want this interview; in fact he shyly and sincerely tried to sidestep it.

The second is that in his history it is recorded, in black and white, that, once, as a salesman, he actually demanded a commission instead of a salary.

As an interviewer of public men and as an employer of labor we are frankly skeptical on both points; as you are, gentle reader.

We still believe that Mr. Abrams will purchase a number of extra copies of this issue, keeping one in his desk to be taken out and secretly admired at intervals, and that Mrs. Abrams, after remarking that the cartoon certainly does not do Mr. Abrams justice, will mail the aforementioned copies to a list of relatives and friends.

As for preferring a commission to a salary, we never heard of such a salesman. It is on record, however, that Hiram Abrams sold pictures so successfully that he just naturally evoluted from Portland to Paramount.

We are hardened in these matters, but for sincere evasion of publicity we do hand the palm to Mr. Abrams.

He was so nervous that we got nervous.

“Now, see here, Mr. Abrams,” we said firmly, “you shouldn’t be interview-shy. On that Western trip of yours we noted first page stories on you in all the big dailies.”

Mr. Abrams sighed, as over unpleasant memories. “In San Francisco,” he smiled, a young reporter came to see me. Each of us scared the other. Finally it got on my nerves. ‘For God’s sake, boy,’ I said finally, ‘stop shaking your knees. Mine are shaking too.’”

“After that you got along all right.”

“Oh, sure.”

“Well, so shall we. The operation is only a minor one. Now, let’s see, Mr. Abrams, your home is in Portland, Maine.” Mr. Abrams wheeled straight around in his chair and brightened all over. “Then you know Portland?” he asked eagerly. “Like a book,” we prevaricated.

Mr. Abrams’ chest expanded and he regarded us admiringly. “Have a cigar,” said he.

“It’s a beautiful city,” we went on.

Mr. Abrams arose and shook hands warmly. Then he dived into his desk. “Have a box of cigars — if you like the one you’re smoking,” he added anxiously.

“Once,” we puffed on, mendaciously, “once we sat in the handsome dining room on the top floor of Portland’s splendid leading hotel and got a sweeping view of the city, the winding sea coast and the wooded islands of the bay, its broad, shaded avenues, its magnificent homes.”

“Do you know,” interrupted Mr. Abrams genially, “I’m glad to have known you. I can see now that it takes a man of deep intelligence and broad culture to edit a trade paper. Let me light your cigar.”

“But to return to Portland.”

“Yes?” said Mr. Abrams eagerly.

“You own the Portland baseball team.”

“It’s some team!” Mr. Abrams’ eyes lighted up proudly. And, we are prone to remark here that Hiram Abrams has a fine eye. It’s a boy’s eye. And we have a pet theory that a man who keeps his boy’s eyes is a pretty fine sort.

“What do they call you in Portland, Mr. Abrams? Hiram?” “No,” Mr. Abrams looked a trifle sheepish.

“Well, what?”

“Hymie,” admitted Mr. Abrams.

“That’s all, Mr. Abrams. But we haven’t talked about the film business.”

“Well, that’s a big subject, too — too big to talk about. Let’s go to lunch and talk Portland.”

—

Illustration by: Harry Palmer (Harry Samuel Palmer) (1882–1955)

Collection: Motion Picture News, December 1917