Saroyan on Screen: The Wonderful World of William Saroyan

Saroyan’s transition from stage to big screen did not work out as he would have liked. The two films based on his work in the 1940s, The Human Comedy and The Time of Your Life, were strong films, neither of which earned as much as the original properties.

Saroyan also hated the results of both adaptations. 

As television was still finding its footing in the 1950s, Saroyan saw a great opportunity to gain an arena where he could have more control over his output. By 1951, he had already written several scripts or allowed his works to be adapted by others. In some cases, it’s unclear who actually wrote the teleplay for the screen, though letters seem to indicate that he was usually involved, if not fully producing the scripts himself. 

Saroyan produced his own plays from 1939 through his draft into the Army three years later. He had produced and directed a single short film. He had never ceased churning out plays and other scripts and had written for the radio more than once. The idea of creating his own television series seems to have come to him fairly early, about 1951 or 1952. The idea was that Saroyan would write 13 plays and produce and direct them. 

One reason for wanting to do it himself may have been discussions in 1951 and early 1952 to produce his play Jim Dandy for television with Warren Wade Productions. Saroyan had known Capt. Warren Wade during his time as a part of the Army Pictorial Unit in Astoria, Queens. Now, Wade was a television producer working to bring plays to the first season of Broadway Television Theatre, and Saroyan had been contacted about potentially bringing Jim Dandy, one of Saroyan’sfavorites, to television. In one letter to Wade, Saroyan said “I have always worked with too many little groups, letting them do my stuff, and they simply aren't ready for it, they do it badly, and the poor critics make me take the rap. Jim Dandy is one of the greatest plays of our time: way ahead, for instance, of The Cocktail Party, much more authentically theatrical, dramatic, amusing, wise, and meaningful; and far ahead of the other fellow from England, Christopher Fry.”

The series had yet to debut, but both plays were hot properties, and Saroyan likely assumed that Wade had been in talks for the Fry piece, The Lady’s Not for Burning and The Cocktail Party, though neither ended up being produced for the first season. Oddly The Lady’s Not For Burning was later produced for a show with which Saroyan would later be deeply associated.

He had pitched Jim Dandy previously for cinematic adaptation to both RKO and Warner Brothers, though producers had found it lacked enough story to carry a film. Wade seemed in favor of presenting it, but by May of 1952, had informed William that he was passing on it. At that point, he had already begun the work on a new project to do what he often did; cut out the middleman. Here, he had proposed that he would create 13 original plays and present them on television. At some point, he referred to the program as The Wonderful World of William Saroyan, though it’s not usually referred to as such. 

To make it happen, he needed access to backers and executive producers who could negotiate with the networks. While he had connections, particularly with CBS. Saroyan often knew what he didn’t know. That was what led him to partnerships like the one with Ben Medford and Ned Brown during the Time of Your Life shopping around period. Saroyan was living in Hollywood, and as was often the case in the 1950s, he needed money, especially to keep up with payments to his ex-wife Carol, and with various creditors. To manage those issues, he hired a business manager, Bill Stern. Stern seemed to act more broadly than someone Saroyan described as being hired to “fill out and file taxes” for him. It seemed that Saroyan had acquired something of another de facto agent.

Saroyan had various semi-official agents over the years, notably Stanley Rose, but seldom with much formality. In the 1930s, he was represented by New York agent Ann Watkins. Though their association was brief, with it likely over by 1939. Through Watkins, he first encountered Hal Matson, who he would work with, and frequently be supported by for years to come. While short in tenure, Watkins would get enquiries about Saroyan’s work through at least the 1960s. He often associated with agents in short term, deal-specific agreements, such the work Medford and Brown did to land The Time of Your Life deal. Ross Bagdasarian even seemed to play an agent-like role at times. 

He also had something of a relationship with William Morris, arguably the most important agency of the time. He had several interactions with James Geller in the 1930s, including Geller asking if Saroyan would consider taking screenwriting work in Hollywood as early as 1934.  William Morris became a major player in bringing theatre work to television, and Saroyan again became acquainted with the agency. Apparently, it was through Stern that he was introduced to the three primary Hollywood figures that would make Saroyan’s series happen: Rodney Armateu, John Beck, and Arthur Desser.

According to The Ross Report from early May 1952, the deal was set - 

“A new corporation, William Saroyan TV Playhouse, Inc., has been set up by Arthur Desser, a member of the law firm handling the playwright's legal matters, to produce a series of 26 half-hour films for television. Rodney Amateau, who recently finished directing "Monsoon” in India, will co-produce and co-direct the color films with Saroyan. Each of the films will be different plays, all written by Saroyan, with production scheduled to start in mid-July.”

Amateau was a director, and had just come off helming The Bushwhackers, a film where his directing talent was specifically seen as lacking. His next film, Monsoon, wasshot at the start of 1952, and was better received. He was a young director brought on to help Saroyan with the directing duties. He would have a long career, though is often cited for his final film: The Garbage Pail Kids Movie, widely seen as one of the worst of all-time. 

John Leggett’s The Daring Young Man, notes that John Beck was the third partner. Beck was a William Morris executive who had previously been a producer, notably on the Jimmy Stewart classic Harvey. He would spend most of the 1950s at the agency or working for RKO or helping to negotiate the deal that merged Universal Pictures and International pictures in what was the largest Hollywood merger of the day. He was brought on to serve as an advisor and producer, and he would certainly have had the adequate connections to land major stars for the series. His role in the scenario is slightly complicated.

Arthur Desser was a lawyer. His firm, Desser, Rau and Christensen, had been handling Saroyan’s legal affairs, at least partially according to Variety. Arising from his debts to a Beverly Hills landlord, Saroyan was embroiled in a case – Sechy vs. Saroyan, in which Desser’s firm represented him. Desser appears to have been the money man on the deal. As a part of the deal to create the corporation, William Saroyan Television Playhouse, Inc., Desser would front the 4,000-dollar loan to Saroyan to help him settle his debts. He was also noted in Variety to be assigned to finding financing. 

The idea that Saroyan had pitched was to create 13 plays for the series, though at least one of the scripts originally pitched as a part of the project was My Heart’s in the Highlands, which he had written teleplays for more than once. 

The plays would be registered through William Morris, and Saroyan started writing them even before the initial announcement of the series in May. According to Variety, he had already written five of the plays, starting with The Bad Men. This was a play he had been working on since at least 1950, as noted on the earliest dated draft in the Green Library’s William Saroyan collection. It should be noted that on a 1952 version of the script, it was noted as for “The Wonderful World of William Saroyan.”

The deal that was signed between all the parties, and apparently overseen by William Morris, was fairly strict on Saroyan’s time and output:

WHEREAS, First Party is about to engage in the business of producing one (1) or more series consisting of thirteen (13) one-half (1/2) hour motion picture photoplays based on stories written and to be written by Second Party, for distribution and release through the medium of television and otherwise; and

WHEREAS, Second Party is a person having worldwide renown and acclaim as a writer; and

WHEREAS, the parties desire to enter into an agreement whereby Second Party shall render his services to First Party.

NOW, THEREFORE, in consideration of the premises, it is agreed and understood as follows:

(1) Second Party agrees to devote his efforts exclusively to the creation of at least thirteen (13) stories and shooting scripts based thereon and deliver the same to First Party within a period of six (6) months from the date of the execution of this agreement, provided, however, that said time shall be extended until said stories and shooting scripts have been completed and delivered.

The key portion there was that Saroyan “was to devote his efforts exclusively to the creation of the 13 plays. He always saw writing as the means to maintain his lifestyle, and it was a major problem he had with his time in the army. He always thought that he should be writing and that it was through writing that he would always find the money to lead his way out. It was likely the loan from Desser that led Saroyan to even consider the deal in the first place. 

Through William Morris, though in the name of Saroyan Television Playhouse, ten total plays were registered: The Bad Men, The Oyster and The Pearl, The Man in the Cool Cooll Moon, A Picture for the Family Album, The Survivors, A Spring Day at the Marriage License Bureau, An Everyday Family Miracle, Scalawag’s Heaven, The Christmas Tie, and The Abracadabra Kid. Several of these may have been around for years, notably The Christmas Tie which he mentioned in a journal entry in 1949. Most exist in undated typescripts in the Saroyan collection, mostly appearing to have been revised into the 1952 script forms. 

There was tension, it seems, between Desser, the money, and Saroyan, the writer. 

With Saroyan’s traditional reliance on writing to get him out of every hole, the demands of creating more plays weighed on him, especially as it precluded other writing and publishing gigs. Eagle-eyed readers will remember the announcement of the series being 26 half-hour episodes, while all the agreements were for a series of 13 episodes. This may simply mean that Saroyan had not been consulted in the announcement phase, or it may have been that having had him sign the contract with the “devote his efforts exclusively” they felt that they could push him for much more. 

Either way, it was clear there was a discrepancy between the views of the two parties. 

But these were not the only problems. There was also confusion. 

First, there was Stern. Saroyan sent a letter to John Beck spelling out issues with the deal. 

“I have your letters of July 29th and 30th, and you and I met on the evening of July 29th. Because of the overall confusion still in operation it is necessary for me to make a few facts known to you.

1. I hired William Stern early this year to act as business manager on my behalf, to fill out and file income tax reports for last year, and to attend to other tax and business matters as they arose. His fee was 5% of my gross income. At the end of June when his failure to keep a proper accounting of my affairs and to file tax reports made it necessary for me to dispense with his services my gross income was around $10,000, not counting the $4,000 loan by Arthur Desser. Several days ago I finally received from Mr. Stern a check in the sum of $1,634.27 which is supposed to represent the balance in my account, but so far I have not received an accounting from Mr. Stern. He has neither filed income tax reports or returned to me papers and figures by which I might be guided in filling out and filing the forms myself. And I keep getting letters from creditors who plan legal action; it was Mr. Stern’s specific job to make payments to these creditors out of the $10,000 I placed at his disposal. Several of these letters are from creditors who were supposed to have been paid in full according to Mr. Stern himself.

2. I became interested in a TV program and put aside other work from which the income could very well be substantial and prolonged in order to write plays for this program. You brought in Arthur Des[s]er who drew up papers covering this project, and as of July 29th you had not read these papers. I long ago pointed out in a letter to Arthur Des[s]er that these papers are meaningless, and I suggested that I return to him the $1,000 he loaned to me and which I in turn handed over to Mr. Stern, who in turn has not yet accounted for the $100.00, monies or less, from my own income, and this $1,000 loan.

3. I have never gyped anybody in my life, but have gotten a number of raw leaves from big antiquity and from prosperous business men. The TV field has always been open to me. I never before had an opportunity to enter it. I went into this project on good faith, I worked very hard, I put aside other work, I received $1,000 in loans—for work delivered. I am ready to pay back this loan immediately. Before I can do so, however, I must have a full accounting from Mr. Stern. And if Mr. Desser wants to proceed with this project I am advised that before new papers can be even considered you, as the agent, must have that you are familiar with the present papers—for it is presumed that you are also my agent, as well as Mr. Desser’s, and that it is in order for you to look after my interests. With kindest personal regards: William Saroyan”

It appears that at that point, Stern was not performing his duties, and Saroyan’s continued troubles with creditors would attest to that. It is highly likely that the ten thousand he provided to Stern was insufficient to cover the debts, though it’s also possible that Stern had actually covered everything and just hadn’t kept the proper records. It’s also notable that Desser loaned Saroyan 4000 dollars and not one thousand as he stated later in the letter.

When Stern did provide the records, it was clear that things were worse than he had expected. His founding the corporation had actually increased his debt by more than 5,000, though in The Daring Young Man by John Leggett claims that it was near ten thousand. the later accounting found in Saroyan’s papers contradicts that. He may have conflated the ten thousand mentioned in the letter to Beck as given to Stern as having been used on the show and not towards total debt repayment.

The letter itself asks a few questions about the role of John Beck. Saroyan refers to him as a primary mover of the project, that he had brought on Desser, and was acting as Saroyan’s agent. Whether or not this was as a general agent or just within the scope of the project is unclear. It’s more likely that Beck was representing the project as a whole, and that’s where the most interesting possibility of conflict arises; who was the first director?

Saroyan was always interested in being the primary mover on any project he took on. It would appear that Saroyan wanted to be the first director of the corporation, but he felt as if he were simply an employee giving over his labor for other’s benefit. Leggett noted that Saroyan would get 60% of the proceeds from the Corporation, though it’s less clear what percentage of ownership  he would maintain within it. There would be a board, and there would be stockholders, as the issuance of stocks had been applied for.

Desser seemed to be the one who he had the most issues with, though there was clearly more going on. In the August 18, 1952 letter that indicated the dissolution of the project and Saroyan’s association with William Morris, it is mentioned that Desser and Jack Rau, one of the partners in Desser’s firm, were resigning as directors. This is the first mention of Rau as a director for the corporation. Saroyan was having difficulty writing the 11th play, and no additional investors for producing the show had been discovered. This would have meant one of two things: Saroyan putting the money up himself, which he simply did not have, or Desser & co. fronting the money, putting him again out of the first director of the corporation post. Saroyan sent Stern off to deal with Desser and tell him that he wouldn’t be writing any more plays for the series and would rather dissolve the project than keep working. Desser did not want to let Saroyan out of the project, but at the same time, it was called “Saroyan Television Theatre” and that meant William Saroyan needed to be involved. They were at a standstill until Saroyan wrote the letter to Beck, and then another to William Morris Agency head Abe Lastfogel, that arranged for the dissolution at last. 

 The papers also mention that Saroyan was going to bear all responsibility to re-pay Desser and all costs associated with the establishment of the corporation and the work he undertook for it, though since Saroyan wasn’t able to cover the entire cost, they settled for 1,100 dollars, cancelling the debt.  

This, though, may have let Saroyan leave the project with his tail between his legs, but he also left with at least some of his salvation under his arm; the manuscripts and copyrights for the plays he had created.

That meant that Saroyan had ten teleplays to shop around to television networks, and with the explosion in programming that was coming, he was well-positioned to take advantage of the moment, and less than a year later, he began his association with the group that would be his longest-lasting television presentation space: Omnibus, which is what we’ll look at on our next three episodes.