Posted on by Phil Strawn

Chapter 11 Westward Ho, The Movie Studio Comes Calling


With my grandmother, Bertha, now sober from her curious but legal elixirs, the Strawns greeted each day with the sun smiling through their kitchen window and robins launching into song like miniaturized opera stars: even Lady, the family Terrier, found a pal in the backyard squirrel named Little Nutbreath, a name that rolled off the tongue as easily as whiskey. Now, the one pesky habit Sister Aimee couldn’t shake was her ceaseless missives to the sisters and friends she’d left behind in Texas. Each innocent hello morphed into a screenplay or a short novella, bursting at the seams with bravado but lacking even a whisper of truth from her ink-stained fingers. That woman could ruin a nice Parker fountain pen faster than a sailor could down a rum, and her right arm took on the brawn of Popeye the Sailor Man, ready to box anyone who dared challenge her. Norma and Johnny intercepted as many as possible, but the lion’s share slipped out of California like a secret lover in the night.

John Henry gifted Bertha a well-used typewriter, cheaper than the dozens of fountain pens. One novella, typed out on that clunky machine, landed on the executive’s desk at RKO Studios like a drunken sailor falling off a barstool. Bertha, bless her heart, sent the same tale to every big studio and received naught but indifferent glances in return. But this executive, searching for a breath of fresh air amidst the stale smoke of Hollywood hype, passed her little novella around like it was a shot of low-quality whiskey, but it might be drinkable. They extended her a contract—five hundred dollars, cold and hard, American cash. The family thought it was a cruel prank, perhaps RKO was tipsy, or just mean to a poor soul like Bertha. John Henry, ever the practical one, sought his boss’s advice, and the wise man assured him the offer was the real deal. They signed their names, returned it, and waited like a fisherman with a line cast out on a lazy afternoon. Days shuffled by, and then a courier showed up at the door, handing Bertha a certified check—a blessing or a curse, it was hard to tell. Could lightning strike twice in the same spot? Her tale, a wild ride of a detective couple and their scrappy little terrier turned into a screenplay and a film, but my grandmother, wise yet weary, never pocketed a nickel more, caught in the trap of a contract filled with weasel words.

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13 Replies to “Chapter 11 Westward Ho, The Movie Studio Comes Calling”

    1. I believe it was. The agreement was in favor of RKO so the money for the idea was a one time payment. I didn’t know anything about this until I was in my 50s. My father, knowing he was dying from brain cancer spilled all he could remember before he ceased to remember. His sister, Norma, confirmed the deal. Back in the 50s, my father wrote a country song: ” I’ve Got Five Dollars And It’s Saturday Night. Pop was playing in Ted Daffan’s band at the Crystal Springs Ballroom and sold the tune to Tex for $ 50.00, so Ted bought the writers rights for the price and recorded the song. I believe Farnon Young also had a hit with the tune. My Pop was pissed about the deal for years, but he didn’t sign a contract. Same thing happend to my band in 1969 we were ready to sign with United Artist for an album deal, but our attorney advised us not to because it was stacked in their favor. Our organ player had an epiphany and moved to Northern California Big Sur area and lived in a commune, so the band threw in the towel and that was the end. Teenage musicians are the flakiest people around.

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  3. Your family has had so much rough talent-like unrefined crude oil. Apparently, none of you learned perseverance from your mentors, Popeye and Olive Oyl. You need to eat more spinach and fewer Whataburgers. 🙂

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    1. I’ve been Whataburger free for almost a year, the support meetings help. My father said his mother never wrote to a movie studio again, so that was her one shot at fame. I love the Popeye brand of canned spinach, but Momo wont allow it in our food pantry. Thanks for the great response.

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      1. When I was a teen, I ate canned spinach and promptly barfed. It took me years to eat spinach again, but it had to be fresh. Understandably, canned is more convenient for Popeye. He has to have it at his fingertips so he can immediately squeeze open the can, swallow the green slime, and battle Bluto with new-found strength.

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  4. Wow! I thought sure you were going to say that Bertha was turned down…That sounds like The Thin Man with William Powell and Myrna Loy. The movie should be about your family Phil.

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    1. I didn’t know about this until I was in my 30s, and my aunt Norma brought it up after reading some of my short stories. It was a one time thing, and she said many of the studios in those days received stories, or plots from folks and would pay them a little money to keep the ideas for themselves. I would imagine it was not a professional story, from what my aunt said, but it gave them a little extra cash and neighborhood bragging rights.

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      2. I guess she was one of the few lucky ones. Remember, back in the late 30s, not every household owned a radio or telephone and depended on the news from papers and newsreels at the movies. It was a different world and if someone from then was dropped into now, they would not be able to handle it. I wish my aunt and father would have shared more with me, but perhaps it was enough to finish the part of the Strawn family and move on to my mothers side, which hailed from Oklahoma.

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