From Pigs To Pictures

William Horsley

Each company had to get a camera by some means. It did not matter how, where or what. By this time Williamson in London had made cameras; Prestwich, also in England; Pathe in France, and Prevost, Gaumont in France, and also DeBrie and two or three others. But when you had secured your camera your troubles had just begun.

First, second, third and assistant cameramen were then unknown. The main guy next to the owner was a big, strong, husky fellow with a large pick handle. His duty was to stay at all times within six feet of the camera and as soon as any stranger appeared he spat on his hands, grabbed the pick handle and did his duty. His duty was to prevent anyone except the cameraman from getting a look inside to see if they were using the loop in the film.

Working under these conditions became so intolerable that in 1910 every company in the independent field got together and formed what was known as the Sales Company with headquarters on 14th Street, New York. Here every film sold was delivered by the maker and the Sales Company shipped it out C.O.D. to the buyer at $100 per reel. When the money came in the Sales Company remitted $95 per reel to the maker and kept back $5 per reel. By this time the business had grown to such proportions that this $5 per reel amounted to between $5000 and $7500 per week. The Centaur Company by this time was making:
 

Thus at $5 per reel it was costing Dave Horsley $600 per week. However, on account of never having had this money in his possession it really did not cost him or any of the producers a cent because it was just the same as if they were selling their pictures at $95 each instead of $100.

The purpose of this $5 per reel was this. The Sales Company engaged the best firm of patent attorneys in New York and started suit to break the hold the Patents Company had on the motion picture business and, in case this was not possible, the scheme was to keep the case in court for four or five years at least, during which time the independents would at least be making a living and perhaps a lot of money. After three or more or more years, to the astonishment of all concerned, the Patents Company was licked on every count. Their $2 per week royalty on each projection machine ceased and one by one those high and mighty monarchs of the motion picture business folded up and went out of business. The Edison Company, the Biograph Company, the Essanay Company, the Lubin Company, the Selig Polyscope Company and all the rest fell by the wayside and finally the last one of all, the Vitagraph Company, was absorbed by Warner Brothers and faded out of the picture. To repeat a little verse about David and Goliath, two old Bible characters:

"David had a little stone
No bigger than a button;
He threw it at Goliath
And it killed him dead as mutton."

David Horsley and one of his favorite elephant pals.

Now, there have been many claims as to who beat the Patents Company, each laying claim to that honor. However, the plain, simple fact remains that every member of the old Sales Company paid $5 for every reel of positive film he sold and this money did the trick, and not any individual-neither Laemmle, Bill Swanson, Bauman, or Kessell, Mark Dintenfass, nor Dave Horsley, but each did his share towards the end sought.

Weather conditions became so bad during the summer and early fall of 1911 that it was impossible to make motion pictures in the vicinity of New York City. The camera depended entirely on sunshine and there just wasn't any sunshine to speak of. In despair Dave took his three companies and loaded them on the train and started for California.

On October 27, 1911, he started what was then the very first motion picture studio in Hollywood at the corner of Sunset Boulevard and Gower Street, using the old Blondeau Tavern for an office and putting up a platform in the yard, with muslin diffusers to kill the shadows. Here he operated a company under the direction of Milton H. Fahrney, who made one single reel Western picture every week; a company under the direction of Thomas Ricketts who made one single reel dramatic picture every week; and a company under the direction of Al E. Christie, who made one single reel Mutt and Jeff comedy picture every week. The negative was developed after dark on the old screen porch of the Blondeau Tavern, and sent to Bayonne, New Jersey, to the laboratory for printing.

This plant was operated by David Horsley until May 20, 1912, on which date the Universal Film Company was formed and this company took over every one of the independent companies then operating and each one took stock for his studio, laboratories and other picture interests. Dave got for his plant $175,000 in preferred stock and $204,000 in common stock in the Universal Company. He also was elected to the office of treasurer of Universal at $200 per week salary, a lot of money in those days.

Within a short time the battle for control of Universal started and in July of 1912, less than two months after its formation, Bauman and Kessell withdrew their New York motion picture interest, after a battle in which no lives were lost although a lot of bad language and hard names were used. This battle, however, was only the start of the internal strife which now centered between Carl Laemmle and his faction, and Pat Powers. Each one wanted to be captain of the ship and you can't have two captains in command of one ship at one time.

This kept on for about one year, or until the summer of 1913, when Dave, whose stock carried the balance of power, sold out his interests of Carl Laemmle. Dave would not take any checks so they brought the money for the first payment over from New York in the back of an old auto touring car in one-, two-, five, ten-, and twenty-dollar bills tied up in bundles.

I believe there was $197,000 in this first payment and it took every employee of the biggest bank in Bayonne from three in the afternoon until after eight that night to count it.

Reading left to right- fourth person, Vice-President Marshall, who made famous: "What this country needs is a good five cent cigar"; Mrs. Marshall; David Horsley; Mr. Tudor; Charles Fais; Captain Jack Bonavita.

The balance of the purchase was paid at the rate of $5000 per month by notes of Carl Laemmle. If a note came due at the bank on Sunday the money was paid before noon on Saturday. They were not taking any chances.

With all this money Dave did what he had wanted to do for years. He took his wife and boy and went abroad. He visited the old home village where he was born and lost his arm. He traveled all over England, Scotland, Ireland, France, Spain, Germany, Italy, and all the rest of the European countries. He had so much money that it was too much trouble to go to New York eight miles away to get his $200 check each week as treasurer of the Universal, so he resigned that.

By the fall of 1914 war had broken out in Europe and Dave had rested so much he didn't know how to spend his time. The Bostock Animal and Jungle Show was exhibiting in London. The British government needed the exhibition rooms to train English soldiers in, so they chucked the Bostock animals out into the cold gray London fog into a park.

The manager of the outfit, a Mr. Tudor, a big fellow about six feet six inches, took a boat for New York and someone sicked him on to Dave. Poor Dave, he still had more than four hundred thousand dollars left.

Dave fell for Tudor's scheme and bought the entire show- I don't know how many animals there were altogether, but there were 58 lions and two elephants among the rest. He brought them on a ship to Brooklyn and then by railroad to Los Angeles. The boat and railroad cost more than $15,000 freight; the show, $40,000. He leased the ground at Washington and Main for $600 per month and spent $47,500 on grandstands, arenas, cages, walks, and concrete fence before he opened the show in 1915.

His average daily overhead was $225 per day for feed, trainers, ticket sellers, music, and so forth. The best day's intake was $165. Some days they took in as little as $1.25. Attempting to recoup some of his losses from the animal show he built studios on the ground and a laboratory and made about two hundred comedies with George Ovey. He made a great number of five-reel dramas, with Crane Wilbur, and "Stanley in Africa" pictures. By the fall of 1918 he was compelled to close and whereas he had started in 1915 with more than $400,000 he left in 1919, just three years and one month later, exactly $38,000 in debt.

What assets he had left he placed in trust with the Union Bank and Trust Company and from the sale of these assets they paid off 70 per cent of the $38,000.

The loss of his resources was a sad blow to him, but the worst thing that happened was not the loss of his money but it took from him all his energy, his very life, and left him just a mere shell of the old Dave Horsley and he never was able to take hold again and come back. None except those who were intimately associated with him during those trying days of his beginning in the motion picture business know how great his spirit had been. Then, with nothing but his good right arm and without money he fought with his back to the wall for his very existence. Even his source of film supply was cut off. The Eastman Kodak Company, under their contract with the Patents Company and General Film Company were not allowed to sell him one foot of film, and he was compelled to import from England the negative and positive film made by the Austin Edwards Company. It was this same fighting spirit that caused him when weather conditions became so bad around New York to burn all his bridges behind him and gamble every dollar he could raise and take all his people to California, a strange land that he had never seen.

Hollywood owes to the memory of Dave Horsley more than it can ever repay. From the moment he started to make pictures on the old Blondeau lot Hollywood began to grow and by leaps and bounds, and soon became more famous than any other city of its size in the world. Cameramen, directors, and every art and craft connected with motion pictures owe more to Dave Horsley than to any other man connected with the motion picture business. His everlasting grit and fighting spirit overcame odds that would have defeated an army of ordinary mortals. On February 23, 1933, he passed away just 49 years from the time the pig had been the cause of his coming to America and finally getting into the picture business through his washtub and sink.

William Horsley, "From Pigs To Pictures: The Story of David Horsley," The International Photographer, April, 1934, pages 2-3.

© 1999, David Pierce, on editing and revisions (if any)

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