Although Charlie Chaplin was known as the master of comedy, with artistic achievements that were frighteningly high, in private he was actually a very serious person - some even called him the emperor on set!
However, the three of them still rather agreed with what Chaplin had said, precisely because Miss America was a documentary, and behind it, Starry Entertainment, though also an entertainment company, seemed to have nothing to do with the film industry. No one would think that an entertainment company based in Atlantic City would affect Hollywood's film industry in any way.
"By the way, the lawsuit from Edison has been filed; who will go to handle it?"
Douglas Fairbanks asked, holding Mary Pickford's hand, as he addressed the others.
In March of that year, Douglas and Mary Pickford had a secret wedding in Glendale, California. Both of them had been married before - Mary Pickford had just divorced her former husband in early March, only to marry Douglas by the end of the month.
However, their marriage didn't last forever; they divorced in 1936 and quickly found new happiness and families for themselves.
But that was all in the future; right now, the newlyweds were very close.
They had even planned to go to Europe for their honeymoon the following month.
As for Edison's lawsuit... the great inventor Edison's life's work was essentially inventing patents, then making money from those patents, and film technology was no exception.
In fact, to deal with Edison's lawsuits, film companies originally in New York and Philadelphia had flocked to Los Angeles.
But this had merely changed state legal proceedings into federal ones.
Until he lost a lawsuit in the 1930s, every film company had at some point been sued by Edison!
Chaplin wouldn't deal with such matters, and as a woman, Mary Pickford naturally wouldn't attend such events. Douglas raised the topic, clearly indicating he didn't want to go either.
So, they all turned their gaze to Griffith.
Facing the eyes of the three, Griffith felt somewhat disgruntled. Among the four, Chaplin was arrogant and imperious, Douglas and Pickford acted in unison, leaving Griffith, the one hailed as the greatest innovator in film history, filled with romanticism.
This was precisely due to his character that when faced with situations he found displeasing, he wouldn't speak out, preferring to let his feelings of discontent accumulate slowly.
In the end, it was actually Griffith who first sold his shares in United Artists and left.
"All right, I'll handle this matter; you guys don't need to worry!"
Upon hearing Griffith's response, the others showed relieved smiles.
Chaplin, seated there, started discussing his plans for a new movie with Griffith, while Douglas and Pickford discussed which country in Europe to visit first for their vacation.
Griffith, while listening to Chaplin, nodded absentmindedly.
Not just in Los Angeles, but in other major cities across the United States, many were paying attention to the release of the Miss America documentary.
In cities like Los Angeles, New York, and Philadelphia, where regional competitions were held, competing beauties promoted the screenings in theaters. In other major cities, beauties who had been eliminated from the competition did the same, thereby harvesting a new wave of popularity.
An audience member, having just watched the documentary, shouted to the beauty on stage taking a bow, "Sika, don't cry, we will always support you!"
Where someone shouted, others followed suit to echo the sentiment.
Soon, the entire cinema erupted in support for Sika Kona.
Sika Kona, standing on the stage with her eyes brimming with tears, had appeared on screen for less than a minute in a group scene in the film, yet unexpectedly she had garnered the support of the audience here.
What Sika Kona didn't know was that any other beauty standing there would have received the same applause.
It was merely a collective emotional release!
Amid the overwhelming buzz, the Miss America city preliminaries documentary reaped an impressive box office on its opening day.
With screenings in over three hundred theaters across the country and movie tickets priced at only twenty cents each, the number of viewers surpassed a million.
Converted to box office revenue, that was a whopping $200,000, but don't forget it was just a documentary with a production cost of $70,000 and a promotion budget of $200,000.
It seemed as if the box office hadn't yet met the expenses, but this was only the first day's earnings.
Subsequent box office results, if calculated using normal patterns, would surely make Donnie Block some money.
Of course, limited by current technology, neither Donnie nor the Philadelphia Film Company knew the exact box office numbers for the day, but the situation was telling.
So, when Donnie received a call from Erickson, the latter sounded quite excited.
"Donnie, the attendance in the theaters is very high. The company and I believe that this documentary will achieve impressive results!"
"Yes, that is certainly very good news, but the credit all goes to you and your team!" Donnie's tone was very calm.
Erickson on the other end of the phone couldn't understand why Donnie could be so composed; it was their company's first investment in a documentary. Then Erickson assumed he understood: it must be because Donnie Block was used to big events, hence such news wouldn't shock him. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ ɴo(v)elFɪre.ɴet