The Universal Pictures lot in the 1930s
Upon waking up to the news this morning that a massive fire was destroying a large chunk of the Universal Pictures backlot (which others have reported on in great detail, and of which the Associated Press has some impressive footage), I immediately got on the phone with the person who knows that land better than anyone else in the world…
Carla Laemmle, who I first met and interviewed (for an ongoing book project) last summer in Los Angeles, is 98 years old, but remains as mentally and physically sharp as someone decades younger. Carla’s uncle, you see, was Carl Laemmle, who in 1912 founded the Universal Motion Picture Manufacturing Company (it was incorporated as the Universal Pictures Company in 1925); who served as Universal’s studio head until passing the torch to his son in 1928; and who in 1929, following the death of his brother/Carla’s father, invited 19 year old Carla, her mother, and her grandmother to move into a bungalow on the Universal lot near the New York Street set, where they lived until the studio was sold in 1936. Carl also was fond enough of Carla and her abilities to cast her as a dancer in The Phantom of the Opera (1925) and also as a secretary who utters the first words in a little movie called Dracula (1931)—she is now the last surviving actor from both films.
When I spoke to Carla by phone this morning, she said she had been up since dawn watching news coverage of the fire and crossing her fingers that the place that thousands called their place of work but that she knew as her home would not be completely destroyed.
It has bothered but not surprised me that much of the news coverage of this incident has focused on the damage to sets of recent movies (Back to the Future, for instance) while completely ignoring its impact on vastly older and more significant landmarks on the lot (the set of the Bates Motel from Psycho, etc.). Here are a few excerpts from my interview with Carla Laemmle to offer you a better sense of some of the history and flavor of the Universal lot…
During your early years growing up in Chicago, what were your interests and aspirations?
Well, I began taking dancing lessons when I was six, and then, when we came out to California when I was eleven, I continued studying dance. And my mother had me take lessons from Ernest Belcher, who had a studio, and I studied with him for, oh, a good many years. And then, when I was sixteen and they made Phantom of the Opera, it was very special for me to be the prima ballerina in the movie. Of course, it helped that my uncle was owner of the studio and Mr. Belcher was given the job of choreographer. [laughs]
How exactly were you were related to Carl?
Well, I was related to him because my father was his brother.
And, as a child, did you see him often?
No, I didn’t see him often at all. No. He was running the business of the studio, and I was a child, you know? In later days, I always saw him at the parties that he gave every year—they were Christmas parties. And then, when I appeared in the light operas in ’28—I was signed up to appear in the them, and it was a ten-week series—my uncle came to see me, and I guess he was impressed that I had some talent, and eventually I got a contract at Universal.
Long before you had a contract at Universal, you relocated to live at Universal City. How did that move come about?
Well, when we moved from Chicago, we immediately went to Universal studio on the lot, and we lived there until—well, my father passed away in ’29, but my mother, and my grandmother, and myself continued to live at Universal until my uncle sold the studio in ’36.
Where did you live on the studio lot?
Well, at that time, there were two little bungalows right off the boulevard, which used to be called El Camino Real. Bungalows were originally allocated to the chief of police and the chief of the fire department. And, of course, one of them had to leave, and it was the chief of police. We moved into the little bungalow he lived. The chief of the fire department was still there temporarily, for a while, and then he moved away.
What did the rest of the studio look like? What purposes did those buildings serve?
These little bungalows—one was closer to the boulevard—Lancasham Blvd.—and the other was separated, a little ways back, and that’s the little bungalow we lived in. And right behind—or not behind, but to an angle in the back—was the New York street set. In front, we just saw the bare buildings, the skeleton of it, and then you went around and there was a New York street, you know?
Was there a commissary? Were there other things?
Oh, yes. Well, you know, Universal, it was like a little city, and it had everything. It had a hospital, it had a school, and, of course, a police and fire department. That was my uncle’s vision, to have a city, you know, a little city built for the purpose of making movies.
Did you attend the school on the lot?
No, I didn’t attend the school on the lot. I was taking dancing lessons and all of that at the time. And my mother—I don’t know how she contacted her—it was a woman that taught private lessons at what was then The Hollywood Hotel, a beautiful old hotel on Highland and Hollywood, no longer there. So I didn’t go to school out here. I did in Chicago, but not out here.
As a child growing up on the lot, it must have been pretty exciting to witness all the activity and everything. Did you have much to do with the various people working on the lot during the day? I’ve heard of one instance when some of them put on a fright show for your birthday…
Oh, yes. Well, every year, I had a costume birthday party, and sometimes it was on the back lot, or sometimes it was just by my house. It was usually outside because, at that time, I was studying with Ernest Belcher, and I would invite all the students, you know, that were growing up together, and we had a costume party every year. And one year, since my birthday is October 20th, near Halloween, we decided to have a combination Halloween-birthday party. Everybody came in costume. And, a little bit behind our house was a pathway—a tree-bordered pathway—and I called the Property Department, and they came up and they rigged everything up as Halloween, you know? All kinds of spooky stuff. And one of my guests, as we were going down the pathway, this skeleton jumped out at her, and she fainted. [laughs] They did a beautiful job with lighting effects and everything very spooky, you know?
Well that was Universal’s forte, horror…
Yes. [laughs] So that was a very special thing. And then I also had birthday parties on the back lot. And it was wonderful memories that I have.
Since you were now living at Universal, did your relationship with your uncle become closer? Did he become closer with your mother, even though his brother—her husband—had passed away?
No, no. He never came over. He was too busy, you know?
So how, at the age of sixteen, in 1925—still the silent era—were you afforded the opportunity to appear in The Phantom of the Opera?
Well, I suppose because the opening sequence—it had happened that it was a ballet sequence, and because I was a ballerina, and Ernest Belcher was a very, very fine teacher and choreographer, my uncle just hired him to do the choreography, and I appeared, you know, as a ballerina.
The filming of that sequence was quite elaborate. Can you describe it for me?
Well, the stage was enormous. It was a replica, you know, of the Paris Opera. And today, they have not changed it at all, the soundstage. It’s just the same as it was at that time. And it’s sort of like a shrine, in a way.
I’ve heard they still refer to it as ‘The Phantom Stage’…
Yes, they do. It’s ‘The Phantom Stage.’
Were you, after The Phantom of the Opera, immediately put under contract to Universal? It took a while, right?
No, I wasn’t under contract then. No, I was put under contract when I was nineteen. That was when I was appearing in the Light Opera season at The Shrine. And this particular Light Opera was called Sally, and I had a nice part in it, and my uncle came on opening night, you know? And he was impressed with my performance, so then I made a test. And it just so happened that I had the best luck in having Erich von Stroheim give me the test—he was a genius, also, wonderful. He and my father were good friends; they spoke German together. So that was a very special time for me.
When you were ultimately were put under contract, how long a contract was it?
Well, it was sort of from year to year. I think I was under contract several years. I don’t remember just how many years, but several years.
After you were put under contract, did you ever hear comments—sort of unfriendly comments—from others accusing you of nepotism or getting favorable treatment because you were a relative?
No, nothing ever like that. He did—my uncle did hire a lot of family members. Well, Willie Wyler, of course, became one of the great, great directors. He was related. He was a cousin—I don’t know, a first or second cousin. Anyway, he was, of course, started at Universal. And he had a brother, too, who worked there. And then my half-brother, Edward Laemmle, was a director. And then there were two cousins, Walter and Ernst Laemmle. And then other people that my uncle brought over from Germany, he also hired them, you know?
I may be mistaken, but as the Nazis rose to power, didn’t your uncle pull a lot of people out of Germany and hire them at Universal to protect them?
Oh, yes, yes. After he sold Universal, he devoted the rest of his life, really, to rescuing refugees. And he spent hundreds of thousands of dollars in bringing them over and establishing them—helping to establish them—here or in other countries, even. So he was a great philanthropist.
You signed with Universal in 1928. Up until 1931, how were you used at the studio? What were some of the projects?
Well, one of the most important, I guess, is Dracula. [laughs].
Well, that’s why I said ‘up until 1931’! [laughs] I want to wait on that one. Before Dracula…
Before Dracula, I was in little bit things here and there, I don’t know. One of them—I really don’t remember what year it was—but The Adventures of Frank Merriwell. It was a serial, at that time, and I played a running part, and also danced in one of the scenes. Just little bits, nothing important.
We arrive now at a moment that really sort of earned you immortality. How, in 1931, did Dracula come about?
Well, it just—I got a call from the casting office that said, ‘Just go to the wardrobe and get fitted for a little part.’ It just so happened it was the opening scene—the coach scene—and I was playing the part of a secretary to sort of a sour-faced English woman, you know? And I just happened to speak the first lines of dialogue.
Can I ask you if you recall those lines?
I hope I do! ‘Among the rugged peaks that frown down upon the Borgo Pass are found crumbling castles of a bygone age.’ [laughs]
Wonderful! When did you first realize that Dracula was going to be a very important film?
About five years ago. [laughs] No, I had no idea that it was going to be sort of a cult movie, you know? And I still get fan mail all over the world, would you believe? And they all say they grew up watching Dracula and the horror movies of Universal. And most of them all say that those movies affected them more than any modern movies of that vein, of horror.
Were you on the set of Dracula for more than just that opening scene?
No, it was just that one day. Just one day.
One day of work and immortality…
[laughs] Yes.
Why do you think Universal was really the best in the industry at making horror films? What factors led to that?
Well, I know that Junior [Laemmle, Carl's son, who Carl Sr. named studio head on his 21st birthday] was very, very interested in that field, and I think probably he grew up reading a lot of stories or something—horror stories. And he was the one, really, that convinced his father to go ahead and make those type of films. My uncle wasn’t especially—he didn’t like the idea too much, but he changed his mind pretty soon, you know? [laughs]
Universal was the oldest of the Hollywood studios, and maybe for that reason seemed more reluctant than other studios to change its ways. It made very old-fashioned, conservative-values, low-budget films, and also, because it didn’t own theaters—unlike many of the other studios—the films it made had to appeal to an inner-city, perhaps less sophisticated audience. Is it possible they just found, in the horror genre, a type of film that everyone could appreciate?
Well, they specialized, really, in westerns, at that time, and a lot of two-reelers, because they sold well, you know? And then gradually, of course, they expanded, and went into the bigger productions. All Quiet on the Western Front, for instance—none of the men in the front office were favorable of doing that; then, again, Junior, I think, finally convinced his father to go ahead and do it and, you know, it won the Academy Award, and is still, I think, considered one of the finest war pictures ever produced.
Scott Feinberg (c) 2002-2008.
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