Excerpt from HOLLYWOOD BE THY NAME:A guard opened the iron gate at the entrance of an old, austere Bel Air mansion with big columns flanking the front door. My mother and I stepped into this huge mausoleum-like house with shiny marble floors.
Why was Grandpa Harry here and not at his beloved ranch?
I listened for his greeting, but it didn't come. Instead, I was led down a long hall into a dark, antiseptic-smelling bedroom. The person stretched out on the bed was like a statue, not the vital, spirited grandfather I knew.
I heard the nurse say he had eaten a little, but that he was still unable to speak. She bent down close to his ear. "Mr. Warner, your daughter and granddaughter Cassie are here to see you." He gave no response.
A mysterious force drew me to him as if he were a candle in the dark. It was a gentle force.
His eyes were open, and he moved to take me in. He smiled. I watched his hand inch slowly across the sheet toward me. His hand found mine, and he tried to speak, but no words came. Instead, the look in his eyes transmitted his thoughts. His hand tightened around mine, sealing the message -- something special was being entrusted to me. I squeezed back. A promise was made.
He tried to sit up. The nurse rushed over. I was being escorted out. I felt something tugging at me, telling me not to leave.
"Cassie."
I turned and saw him reaching for me. It was the last time I would see him.
I was ten years old when this happened, and it wasn't until years later that I would realize the magnitude and meaning of that moment. For years I had a feeling of incompletion, as if I was keeping someone waiting for me. As I did my research for this book and learned more about what was important to my grandfather, I came to interpret this unspoken message that had passed between us as a responsibility that I had agreed to take on -- a responsibility to convey to others his deep beliefs and ideals.
From a very early age I was aware of my privileges. I had time to daydream, play and take piano and dance lessons, while our gardener's son had to help his father tend to the yard every day after school. Often I felt as if kids were being my "friend" so they could come see the movie stars who visited our house. Almost every weekend these celebrities would gather to watch films on our full-size living room screen.
Yet my family was different from those who were concerned only with how they looked, who they knew, and what parties they were going to. I was able to compare this vacuousness with values I was absorbing at home. Around the dinner table, my family discussed world affairs and civil rights. My grandfather and my parents were quick to point out injustices they saw. My father would always lighten things up with anecdotes about some situation that had happened at the studio or in the newspaper.
One of my favorite pastimes was sitting in my father's overstuffed leather chair in his home office and listening to him as he worked. As a screenwriter, he would often collaborate with another writer. There was always laughter along with their intense concentration. I felt like I was participating because he'd give me a script to hold on my lap and read. I could sense the exhilaration he felt in creating with another and the pleasure he got from being a producer and putting all the pieces together.
I watched my mother as she dedicatedly worked daily in her studio, practicing her detailed pencil sketches or spreading oil paints on her canvases. She taught me the value of being a mother as well as the importance of using one's artistic abilities.
There was nothing quite as special as going to the studio. I loved watching the cast and crew working together and seeing how much teamwork went into the magic of film.
Even today, when I go to the movies and see audiences uplifted and moved by what they're watching instead of bombarded with violence and desensitized by meaninglessness or superficiality, I have tremendous appreciation for the creative process and the choices made by those in charge. It's almost as if film casts a mysterious spell on those watching it, like the beat of a tribal drum that's subtly conveying beliefs and values. Despite the trends being what they are, I believe the wonderful art of drama and storytelling will endure. The Warner Brothers motto, "to educate, entertain and enlighten," is a Hollywood legacy.
It is with great pleasure and pride that I give this recollection of the brothers' story as a gift back to my grandfather and to family and friends who have contributed to my well-being, optimism and understandings. I've tried to give a truthful and full account as they would have wanted.
This book is in honor of and dedicated to dreamers and determined, caring souls like my grandfather, Harry Warner. May their hopes and visions guide humanity toward a better tomorrow.
My promise has been kept.
- Cass Warner, author