Welcome to the Deep Dive, where we take your
sources and unearth the most fascinating nuggets
of knowledge. Today, we're diving deep into the
life of a titan whose name really became synonymous
with Hollywood's Golden Age, but... His story
is far more complex than maybe that glittering
facade of the movies he produced suggests. We're
talking about Louis B. Mayer. Absolutely. The
man who built an empire, shaped a culture, and,
well, in many ways really defined what it meant
to be a movie star. Yeah. Louis B. Mayer wasn't
just, you know, a studio head. He was a force
of nature, a true architect. He shaped not only
Metro -Goldwyn -Mayer, MGM, but the very fabric
of American entertainment. Okay. So our mission
today is to kind of unravel the man behind that
iconic roaring lion, explore his incredible,
almost improbable rise, his... often controversial
methods and the enduring really multifaceted
legacy he left behind. Get ready to understand
how one man's relentless ambition transformed
an entire industry and created the star system
we still recognize today that, you know, carefully
constructed mythology and public image that turned
actors into these global icon. You're about to
discover a figure who was, well, simultaneously
revered and reviled, a true self -made mogul
whose impact echoes through cinema even now.
Definitely. So how did this incredible origin
story begin? Yeah. Louis B. Mayer, born Lazar
Mayer, right? Hailed from the Russian Empire.
Yeah. Grew up in incredibly poor circumstances
in St. John, New Brunswick, Canada. Right. Family
spoke mostly Yiddish at home. OK. And he famously
quit school at just 12 years old. 12. Yeah, 12.
To work with his father in a scrap metal business.
Wow. And, you know, this early struggle, this
absolute fight for survival, it's absolutely
crucial to understanding the relentless drive
that propelled him throughout his life. Makes
sense. The actress Anne Rutherford, who worked
under him at MGM, she once observed, if anybody
on Earth ever created himself, Louis B. Mayer
did. He was a man who, coming from that poor
immigrant background with, like, no formal education
beyond elementary school, quite literally taught
himself grammar, manners, and perhaps... most
importantly, the ambition to lift his family
out of poverty. He spent his early days roaming
the streets with a cart, just collecting scrap
metal. It's a powerful image, shows you how deep
that grit ran. And he even remembered people
who helped him early on, right? Like that tin
business owner. Yeah, John Wilson. Mayer considered
him his first partner just for giving him some
copper trimmings. And Mayer would place flowers
on Wilson's grave in later years, just like he
did on his mother's. Shows a certain loyalty,
maybe. Interesting. So from collecting scrap
metal, he makes this truly surprising pivot.
In 1907, he's just 20, leaves St. John for Boston,
and eventually renovates this rundown 600 -seat
burlesque house in Haverhill, Massachusetts,
reopens it as his first movie theater, The Orpheum,
in 1912. And get this, here's a detail that tells
you a lot about his instincts. OK. To overcome
the building's unfavorable, maybe even scandalous
reputation, he opens it not with some raucous
show, but with a religious film from the manger
to the cross. Wow. That's an astute move. Shows
his keen business acumen right from the start.
He understood his audience, how to position things.
And what's fascinating is how quickly he scaled
that success. Within just a few years, he owned
all five of Haverhill's theaters, then created
the Gordon Mayer Partnership. controlling the
largest theater chain in New England. And then
came that truly bold, almost audacious move in
1914, netted him a fortune. Oh yeah, the birth
of a nation rights. He paid D .W. Griffith $25
,000 for the exclusive New England rights. For
a film he hadn't even seen. Exactly, hadn't seen
it. But that gamble paid off spectacularly. earned
him over $100 ,000, which was just an enormous
sum back then. Incredible. And he didn't stop
there, used those earnings, partnered with Richard
A. Rowland. Right, to create Metro Pictures Corporation
in New York. Then just two years later, moves
his operations to Los Angeles, the burgeoning
film hub, forms his own production company. And
he was already a significant player in this exciting,
rapidly expanding industry. That meteoric rise.
It's something else. And that success paved the
way for his most famous creation, the studio
that would become synonymous with glamour and
prestige. Right. April 1924, his company merges
with two others, Metro Pictures and Samuel Goldwyn's
Goldwyn Pictures Corporation. To form Metro Goldwyn,
which with Mayor's full blessing, very quickly
became Metro Goldwyn Mayor. MGM. And Mayer was
named head of studio operations, a Lowe's vice
president, reporting directly to Lowe's president,
Nicholas Schenck. Ah, Schenck. Now, we know Mayer
privately referred to Schenck as well. Mr. Skunk.
Yeah. That tells you something about their intense
dislike for each other. What was the root of
that friction, do we know? Well, it seems like
a classic power struggle. Financial control versus
creative vision. Schenck, head of the parent
company, losing Schenck, he was focused on the
bottom line, efficiency. OK. Mayer, though, was
deeply invested in the quality, the prestige
of the film. So that sometimes meant significant
spending. Created constant tension about budgets,
artistic direction. Exactly. But Mayer did have
a brilliant partner in this new venture. The
24 -year -old Irving Thalberg made vice president
in charge of production. And this truly was a
brilliant team, wasn't it? Like a perfect pairing.
It really seemed to be. Mayor took charge of
the business, the finances, setting budgets,
giving the final okay on productions. Right.
Meanwhile, Thalberg, the boy wonder, he oversaw
the artistic side, shaped the stories, managed
the talent. Director Joseph M. Newman summed
it up perfectly, didn't he? Thalberg had the
story mind, Mayor the business acumen. Absolutely.
Their complimentary skills were undeniable. And
their shared guide philosophy was incredibly
ambitious for the time. Which was? To make the
best motion pictures they could at any cost.
Even if it meant re -shooting entire films from
scratch. Wow. Quality over immediate profit.
Pretty much. They prioritized quality, spectacle,
prestige. And it worked. Profoundly. Within just
three years of the merger, MGM was the most successful,
most profitable, most glamorous studio in Hollywood.
They even poured resources into stars like Garbo,
even in silent films. Oh, yes. Lush settings,
spectacular camera work. It was all part of that
MGM pursuit of excellence. Now here's something
that reveals a crucial dynamic. Their professional
relationship was hugely successful, but it frayed
over philosophical differences, right? Yeah,
Thalberg preferred more literary works, often
darker. Mayer wanted broader, more wholesome
crowd pleasers. But Mayer's reaction to Thalberg's
early death in 1936, Thalberg was only 37. It
was incredibly profound. It really was. He dedicated
MGM's front office as the Thalberg building.
established the Irving G. Thalberg Memorial Award.
Which is still a huge deal in Hollywood today.
Absolutely. And his reaction wasn't just grief,
it was also, you know, pragmatic, recognizing
the immense, irreplaceable talent he'd lost.
And many expected Mayer to stumble and fall without
Thalberg, didn't they? They did. But he defied
those expectations, stepped fully into the role
of head of production himself. And surprisingly,
MGM continued to grow and thrive for another
decade. Like 1939, that golden year. Oh, incredible
year. The Wizard of Oz, Ninotchka, goodbye Mr.
Chips, and the distributed Gone with the Wind,
just massive. And at its peak in the 1940s, MGM
was this sprawling empire, 185 acres. Three separate
entrances, 6 ,000 employees, its own private
rail line. And its own police force. 50 officers.
Yeah, bigger than the police force in Culver
City itself, where the studio was located. Can
you imagine anywhere from 16 to 18 pictures being
shot at one time? It's almost mind boggling the
scale the ambition needed to manage that. It
really was not just a film studio. It was a self
-contained city of dreams running on its own
infrastructure, a testament to Mayor's vision.
his management capacity. Okay, so one of Mayer's
most significant lasting contributions, something
we still see echoes of, was helping create the
star system. Right. He famously declared, the
idea of a star being born is bourgeois. A star
is made, created, carefully and cold -bloodedly
built up from nothing, from nobody. That's a
pretty strong statement about control, isn't
it? It really is. Raises big questions about
celebrity and control. He meticulously scouted
talents Garbo, Hedy Lamarr, Greer Gar - offered
the highest salaries in Hollywood. But in return,
he expected absolute loyalty, signed them to
incredibly restrictive long -term contracts,
saw them as part of the MGM family. He said he
only looked for a face if it photographed well.
The studio would do the rest, yeah. That meant
hiring geniuses for makeup, hair, even surgeons
to slice away a bulge here and there. Wow. And
a whole army of coaches for fencing, walking,
talking. It was a factory, yes, but a factory
designed to produce perfection or their idea
of it. And his paternalism could be extreme,
almost suffocating. Oh, definitely. He was known
for meddling deeply in actors' personal lives,
telling them where to shop, dine, what doctor
to see. Even arranging marriages. Reportedly,
yes. It sounds like he really wanted to mold
every single aspect of their public and private
personas. That's intense. It is. And what's fascinating
here are the wildly different experiences under
his management. really highlights his complexity.
Like Joan Crawford saw him as a father figure.
Right. Crawford said, to me, L .B. Mayer was
my father, my father confessor, the best friend
I ever had. Ricardo Montalban echoed that, saying
Mayer really thought of the people under contract
as his boys and girls. But then you have others.
Far darker experiences. Elizabeth Taylor famously
called him a monster. Yeah. And actress Esther
Ralston claimed her career was sabotaged because
she refused to sleep with him. Those are disturbing
accusations. And it goes further, doesn't it?
The sexual abuse claim. Yes, truly troubling
accusations. Notably from Judy Garland in her
unfinished autobiography. She described Mayer
groping her, having meetings with her, seated
on his lap, hands on her chest. Terrible. And
Shirley Temple claimed he came on to her mother
when Temple herself was only 12. It paints a
very different... much darker picture of that
paternal figure. Definitely highlights the huge
power imbalance in the studio system. The vulnerability
of actors. Absolutely. Yet despite these darker
aspects, Mayer also famously tried to protect
stars in crisis. Like with Judy Garland later
on. Right. When she was struggling with addiction,
mental health issues causing production delays
and budget overruns, Mayer refused to cancel
summer stock. He said, Judy Garland has made
this studio a fortune. And the least we can do
is to give her one more chance. If you stop production
now, it'll finish her. Hmm. Though eventually
her problems did lead to her being fired from
Annie Get Your Gun. Fadly, yes. So given the
accusations, how do we reconcile this protective
side with the alleged abuses? Was it genuine
care or just protecting assets? It's a tough
question. Goes right to the heart of his complexity.
Probably a blend of both. He genuinely seemed
to want the studio to nurture child stars for
MGM's family -oriented films. They provided education,
medical care on site. And MGM had more child
actors than any other studio, right? Coogan,
Rooney, Garland, Young Liz Taylor. Exactly. So
there was a system of care. But at the same time,
the power he wielded was absolute, and that often
led to abuse or the potential for it. His nephew's
quote seems to capture it. Yeah, he was a giant.
Were we afraid of him? Jesus Christ, yes. Captures
that immense... almost intimidating presence
he had. Okay, beyond managing stars, Mayer had
this very specific, almost ideological vision
for the kind of films MGM would make. Yes, very
much so. He championed wholesome entertainment,
strong family values. Especially clear in the
Andy Hardy series, right? Hugely popular. Wildly
popular. Mickey Rooney even got a special Oscar
in 42 for furthering the American way of life.
through that role. And Mayer's values were deeply
held. Incredibly clear and deeply held. He told
screenwriter Francis Marion, I worship good women,
honorable men, and saintly mothers. He was apparently
so serious about this, he once knocked director
Erich von Stroheim to the floor for saying all
women were whores. Wow. Mayer believed in glamour,
spectacle, optimism, sentiment. aiming to comfort
and entertain, not challenge. He explicitly said
he wasn't making pictures for critics. Right.
For Americans and all people to enjoy, showing
America in the right light. That was his goal.
And his love for musicals truly shaped an entire
genre. Absolutely. He was anxious to make more
musicals, had a hunch about songwriter Arthur
Freed. Asked him to be an associate producer
on Wizard of Oz. Yeah, an inspired decision as
it turned out. Freed's unit just as Mayer hoped,
went on to produce some of the best musicals
ever made. Like Singin' in the Rain, Meet Me
in St. Louis. And Oscar winners, An American
in Paris, Gigi. You are. These are widely seen
as Mayer's greatest contributions to posterity.
Definitely classics. Absolutely. Another crucial
point that sheds light on him is his stance during
World War II. OK. Initially, he hesitated to
make anti -Nazi films. There were significant
economic fears. 30, 40 percent of Hollywood's
income came from Europe. Didn't want to jeopardize
that. Understandable from a business perspective,
I guess. Sure. But MGM eventually defied both
the Hayes Office Hollywood's own censorship body,
which banned anti -Nazi films then. Right. And
even U .S. Ambassador Joseph Kennedy, who urged
studios to stop making anti -German films, thinking
British defeat was imminent. So Mayer pushed
forward despite the risks, authorized films like
The Mortal Storm and Escape in 39. Yes. Right
as the war was gripping Europe. But his most
impactful contribution, the one that really resonated,
was Mrs. Miniver. He personally convinced Greer
-Garson, who he discovered, to take that role.
He did. Told her she wasn't just playing a character,
she was London. No, more than that, she was England.
Powerful framing. And the film was a massive
success. Six Academy Awards, including Best actress
for Garson. Top box office hit of 1942. And it
was more than just entertainment, right? It was
seen as propaganda. Incredibly powerful propaganda.
President Roosevelt loved it. Winston Churchill
loved it. Churchill famously sent Mayer that
telegram. Claiming Mrs. Miniver is propaganda
worth 100 battleships. Exactly. It solidified
Mayer's role beyond entertainment. As a shaper
of public opinion, morale, during a critical
time, he understood cinema's power. But his politics
weren't always universally admired, and he wasn't
afraid to use the studio's power politically.
Not at all. He was an active Republican, served
as California Republican Party chair in the early
30s. And that aggressive political maneuvering,
using the studio's reach, it's an early example
of how media empires could be leveraged politically,
kind of resonates today. A really powerful example
happened during the 1934 California gubernatorial
election. Mayor strongly opposed the Democratic
candidate, Upton Sinclair. Preferred the Republican,
Frank Miriam. Right. And to fight Sinclair's
campaign, MGM and other studios deducted a day's
pay from employees, raising an anti -Sinclair
fund of a staggering $500 ,000. And they made
propaganda films. Yeah. Fake news reels. Hired
actors portraying bums and criminals, some speaking
with foreign accents, clearly designed to demonize
Sinclair. It's a stark reminder of studio power
extending far beyond the screen right into politics.
Yeah, definitely. So after the war, the Golden
Age starts to dim for MGM. It does. The studio
face declining profits. And Mayor, the big picture
man who loves spending for quality, he struggled
with demands from Lowe's, the parent company,
to cut expenses. And the hiring of Doris Carey
as VP in charge of production in 48. That was
a sign of shifting times. A clear sign. Seen
by many, including Mayer, as a direct threat
to MGM's classic style of musicals and comedies
that he championed. Sherry favored more message
driven films. So this really marked the twilight
of his direct influence. Pretty much. The industry
was changing. Audiences were changing. The old
guard was being challenged. And by mutual consent
with Lowe's, Mayer resigned from MGM in August
1951. On his final day, reportedly, a red carpet
was laid out. Executives, actors, staff applauded
him, recognizing it as the end of an era. Actor
Turhan Bey declared, in every meaningful way,
it was the end of Hollywood. That's quite a statement.
It is a truly symbolic moment. Mayer tried new
ventures after MGM, right? Cinerama. Yeah, he
became chairman of Cinerama in 52. that revolutionary
widescreen process. He hoped to produce Paint
Your Wagon using it, but without success. Also
tried an unsuccessful takeover of Vengeo. He
did, before his death from leukemia in 1957.
But despite those later struggles, his legacy
is just immense, undeniable. Variety magazine
summed it up well. They did, stating he was probably
the greatest single force in the development
of the motion picture industry who brought it
to the heights of prosperity and influence it
finally attained. And he got that honorary Oscar
in 51. Right. For guiding MGM with foresight,
aggressiveness, and with a real desire for taste
and quality, and for bringing the star system
into full flower. A fitting acknowledgement.
Director Clarence Brown compared him to Hearst.
Said Mayer made more stars than all the rest
of the producers in Hollywood put together. He
never wrote or directed, never pretended to.
But he understood movies and audiences fundamentally.
Exactly. Profoundly shaping not just entertainment,
but how America viewed itself. And that understanding
of America, his love for it. That was a driving
force, wasn't it? It really seemed to be. Spencer
Tracy captured it beautifully at Mayer's funeral.
The story he wanted to tell was the story of
America, the land for which he had an almost
furious love, board of gratitude. That furious
love, its powerful imagery. Apparently he'd be
stoked with extra exuberance for days afterward.
Just listening to John Philip Seuss's patriotic
music paints a picture, you know. A man seeing
his work as deeply tied to the American spirit.
And his influence is recognized in so many ways.
Canada's Walk of Fame, street names, university
theaters. Like the Mayer Theater at Loyola Marymount.
And even the Louis B. Mayer Research Laboratories
at the Dana -Farber Cancer Institute shows the
breadth of his impact far beyond Hollywood. So
what does this all mean for you, listening to
this? He truly built the most prestigious studio
in Hollywood from the ground up. He shaped the
very definition of a movie star, created these
beloved musical classics, and even significantly
influenced American culture and wartime morale.
His story is just such a powerful reminder that
behind the silver screen glamour, the iconic
images, there were these complex, often contradictory
figures, their personal struggles, huge ambitions,
moral ambiguities, all deeply intertwined with
their groundbreaking achievement. He's an executive
genius. A paternal figure, sometimes disturbingly
so. A fierce, even brutal businessman. And just
a complicated man who left this indelible mark
on history and popular culture. His nephew, Gerald
Mayer, simply said of him, he was a giant. And
that's undeniable, isn't it? Absolutely. So the
next time you see that roaring MGM lion, maybe
consider not just the incredible films introduced,
but the fiercely driven, often controversial
and undeniably patriotic man who stood behind
it all. Louis B. Mayer forever changed how we
tell stories, how we experience celebrity, and
really how we view ourselves as a culture. His
legacy is this incredible tapestry woven with
threads of glamour, genius, and deep, often unsettling
human complexity.