A look at the production of ‘Crossfire’ and ‘Gentleman’s Agreement’ 60 years ago

Sixty years ago this month, Twentieth Century Fox released "Gentleman’s Agreement," a film that focused on the question of social anti-Semitism in America. Its release was well anticipated, for before 1947 no motion picture had ever dealt with this controversial topic. But, although championed by Darryl F. Zanuck, its crusader producer, most in Hollywood were fearful about its reception by American audiences. Following by just a few months the release of "Crossfire," a mystery about the puzzling murder of a Jewish veteran, there was tension within the film community about why such films were being made. In fact, strong efforts had been made on a number of fronts to keep both motion pictures from being made.

Within months of the end of World War II, the motion picture industry began to turn away from war and victory pictures. Movies were beginning to tackle America’s problems. With the Holocaust in Europe as "backdrop," anti-Semitism seemed appropriate as a subject that should receive attention on the screen. However, even at this time, it was no easy task to present this highly controversial theme openly to the American movie audience. In earlier films, where anti-Semitism should have been an important factor, it had received superficial treatment. The big question was whether America was mature enough to address the issue and whether Hollywood’s moviemakers were sufficiently secure to tackle this controversial subject. Such an explosive social problem had never been dealt with on the American screen.

The climate in 1947 should have been good for producing such films. The previous year, the first year of post-war introspection, several Hollywood filmmakers seeking a more intelligent and sophisticated audience undertook substantial and important themes that dealt with the social fabric of American life. Yet when the idea surfaced of making a film about another such important American issue, anti-Semitism, most within Hollywood and without felt that the question should not be dealt with. Some, particularly a Jewish community experiencing a post-war "era of good feeling" and concerned that raising the issue of anti-Semitism might actually increase the hatred of Jews, were fearful.

There were also commercial and political concerns. The movie business was changing and financial officers at the studios were exerting greater influence on production. Could social message films be financially successful, particularly on a subject like anti-Semitism? With the beginning of the Cold War with the Soviet Union and the most conservative legislative majority in Washington the nation had seen since 1920, the studios were also increasingly sensitive about congressional oversight of the movie industry. Were there "outside" influences on the kinds of films being made in America and just who were the producers of these social message films? Congress, and in particular influential members of the House Un-American Activities Committee, refocused its attention on Hollywood. It became clear that social message films were going to be scrutinized like never before.

Sixty years later, it is hard to comprehend just how controversial the subject of anti-Semitism really was for movie producers. In an interview with Michel Ciment, director Elia Kazan described the climate: "Try to put yourself back in American films in 1946, where the word ‘Jew’ was never mentioned before. For the first time, someone said that America was full of anti-Semitism, both conscious and unconscious, and among the best and most liberal people. That was a much bolder statement than it is now."

In the end, it was the will of but three individuals who fought against all kinds of resistance to forge ahead and treat anti-Semitism on the screen. At Twentieth Century Fox, it was studio head Darryl F. Zanuck and at RKO it was producer Adrian Scott and head of production Dore Schary.

At the conclusion of World War II, Richard Brooks’ novel "The Brick Foxhole" was optioned by RKO Pictures. Scott, writer John Paxton, and director Edward Dmytryk immediately changed the murdered victim from a homosexual to a Jew and titled their screenplay "Crossfire." Although the idea of a Jew as victim appeared to be received warmly by RKO’s executives, it was actually such a controversial idea that it took two years before a decision to produce it was finally made. It was not until shortly into 1947 when Scott and Dmytryk met with newly appointed production executive Dore Schary that the film moved forward. Schary, a Jew, was excited by the challenge and pushed the idea through the studio bureaucracy, finally getting approval. Despite the go-ahead, he encountered internal opposition at RKO until the very end. As Schary shared with me some 30 years later, he received final approval only when he told the RKO brass, "We’ll make it inexpensively; it can’t lose money."

In December 1946, Darryl F. Zanuck, head of production at Twentieth Century Fox, announced that he had bought movie rights to Laura Z. Hobson’s "Gentleman’s Agreement," a novel about social anti-Semitism. It is the story of a journalist who, in order to expose anti-Semitism, poses as a Jew to experience bigotry firsthand. Zanuck, the only non-Jewish production head of a major Hollywood studio at the time, was excited about doing a film on anti-Semitism. He claimed to be committed to using cinema to attack prejudice and hatred in America and chose to supervise production of the film himself. Zanuck surely was also conscious that any movie made on a social theme would be carefully scrutinized. However, his reputation as a filmmaker ready to tackle difficult subjects had been established long before, and he wanted to continue making his own style of controversial movies. At the same time, the board at Twentieth Century Fox, fearing government intervention, continued to pressure him to produce a film that would not be radical.

Zanuck was a shrewd producer, acutely aware of the commercial possibilities of social issue films. One of his trademarks was producing just such controversial movies within an intensely personal drama. He fully understood that this was both an important film and one that had great potential for box office profit. Zanuck liked the odds and he believed that "Gentleman’s Agreement" would make money. He also was convinced that the film was good for America. Earmarking $2,000,000 for production, Zanuck had Elia Kazan direct and Moss Hart write the screenplay. Production was readied — and then came opposition from a different, outside source.

Unlike RKO’s internal opposition to "Crossfire," which at first was largely financial, resistance to "Gentleman’s Agreement" now came from the organized Jewish community. Leaders of the Los Angeles Jewish community met at the Warner Brothers Studio with Zanuck and possibly Hart, in an effort to discourage production of "Gentleman’s Agreement." They feared that by calling attention to anti-Semitism in a film, anti-Semitic feeling might be increased. They saw no point in raising the question in the first place. Zanuck did not give in to the pressure.

Schary also met stiff resistance. Besides the opposition of his own sales department who thought the picture would lose money, a few colleagues in Hollywood threatened that they would shut down distribution of the film. Even a specific threat by Warner Brothers that they would not screen "Crossfire" in its theaters did not deter Schary as he tackled new adversaries. The producer was confronted by representatives of the Jewish community and leaders of the American Jewish Committee. In a meeting with Schary, Dick Rothschild, an AJCommittee professional, demanded to see the script to determine what he thought might be inappropriate. Rothschild had headed AJCommittee’s survey committee, which had originally been charged, using principles of market research, with counteracting Nazi and anti-Semitic propaganda just before and during the war. He pushed Schary to hold up production for fear that it might do more harm than good. In addition, Elliot Cohen, editor of the AJCommittee-sponsored periodical Commentary, made it clear that he would use the power of the press if Schary refused to stop production or, at least, change the character from a Jew to an African-American. Many AJCommittee leaders became paralyzed with fright over what they imagined the consequences of the film might be. Did they have reason to be afraid?

J.J. Goldberg, the editor of The Forward and the author of "Jews and Power," reminds us that just a few years earlier, "a sizable faction on the American political scene [was] so set against helping Jews that it was willing to pay a price, even inhibit the war effort, in order to avoid helping Jews."

Although hating Jews might not have been respectable after the war, anti-Semitism in America did not disappear overnight. Studies actually show that there was a sharp rise in the public’s awareness of anti-Semitism in June 1944, and this did not fall until some time between 1946 and 1950. In addition, over the period between 1938 and 1950, the percentage who reported "hearing criticism of Jews" was highest in 1946, with a sharp drop thereafter through 1950.

"Of particular interest is the assertion," according to Charles Herbert Stamber in his 1966 study "Jews in the Mind of America," "that anti-Semitism was growing because ‘the war made us conscious’ of the Jews."

Quite aware that strong anti-Semitic sentiment was still prevalent in America, were the Jewish leaders correct in their judgment? Or were they simply frightened, believing that a tactical decision of silence and invisibility was the best overall defense? The next few months would provide many of the answers.

Schary had developed a reputation as a producer who could make a picture quickly and efficiently, and this RKO picture would be no different. He assembled contract studio actors like Robert Young, Robert Ryan, and Robert Mitchum, and with a $500,000 budget prepared a 20-day shooting schedule, aiming to release the picture in early summer.

"Crossfire" is about the murder of the ex-soldier Joseph Samuel. As detective Finlay eliminates suspects, he sets a trap for the killer, whose intolerance of Jews is not merely implied. As the movies progresses, the motive for murder is seen more and more as anti-Semitism. Schary reached out to community groups and did extensive testing, which indicated that such a film would have little adverse impacts on its audience and in fact would probably do great good. Armed with these test findings, Schary opened "Crossfire" on July 22 1947, to the overwhelming applause of critics and audiences.

Following the success of "Crossfire," the country awaited the release of "Gentleman’s Agreement." In many ways, "Crossfire" laid the groundwork for its screening by taking all the flack. Whereas "Crossfire" had been low-budget and speedily made, "Gentleman’s Agreement" was made slowly and purposefully. The picture was released on Nov. 23, received great reviews, and was the eighth-highest-grossing film of 1947. Gregory Peck, Dorothy Malone, John Garfield, and Celeste Holm were chosen for the lead roles in the story of a magazine writer who finds that he can write about Jews and anti-Semitism only by pretending to be a Jew himself. Whereas "Crossfire" had received a mixed reception in the Jewish world, "Gentleman’s Agreement" was received with open arms. As Schary wrote in his autobiography, "‘Crossfire’ was a big hit…. ‘Gentleman’s Agreement’ was a bigger hit."

What happened at the time was a unique situation for both Hollywood and America’s Jews. First, there was the Jewish community’s reluctance to have a Jewish problem publicly discussed. Then there was the fact that segments of the organized Jewish community decided to take on the Hollywood establishment to try to prevent the production of these two films about anti-Semitism. There was also the growing influence of Congress’s watchful eye on what writers were writing and what filmmakers were producing. This was also a time of film studio culture in flux, with the growing influence of stockholders and bankers. In the case of both films, the studio producers were not only fighting for what both believed could better society, they were risking their futures. There is little doubt that both Schary and Zanuck placed their professional reputations on the line. As for America’s Jews, this flexing of muscles by some in the organized Jewish world may have been reflective of a greater comfort level felt in the postwar period and indicative of America’s growing acceptance of Jews and other minorities. We are all the richer for all these efforts.