Sergeant York Surrenders

In the middle of the Big Parade, a good-natured, redheaded, gangling young giant from the Tennessee hills became U. S. war hero No. 1. His name was Alvin Cullum York. Singlehanded, Sergeant York bagged 20 Germans in No Man's Land, then, with seven of his men, brought in 132 more Germans. By the time the Big Parade was over, Hero York had been lionized, publicized, feted, decorated and breveted "the one-man army." After that modest Alvin York just went back to his family farm at Pall Mall, Tenn., where he raised white-faced cattle, sheep and corn, traded in mules but not on his wartime record.

As Tennessee's delegate to the New York World's Fair, Sergeant York had another look at the outside world. It looked rather strange. A new World War was in the making, a new generation had grown up which scarcely remembered who Sergeant York was.

But Hollywood did. More than one Hollywood cinemagnate has been haunted over the years by visions of a sure-fire billing: Sergeant Alvin C. York in The Life of Sergeant York. More than one has made fat offers in an effort to lure the hero, who is far from well off, to Hollywood. York always smiled politely, drawled his thanks, said he guessed he wouldn't. Until last fortnight.

Last fortnight Producer Jesse L. Lasky, with as much hullabaloo as if he had captured 132 Germans singlehanded, announced that he had captured Sergeant York. True, it was a little late. Ruddy, fat and 52, Sergeant York was no longer just the type to play a hero even when the hero was himself. Perhaps Gary Cooper or Gary Grant would do it. Be that as it may, Sergeant York, said Jesse Lasky, had agreed to come to Hollywood to work (with famed Author Gene Fowler) on a script for The Life of Sergeant York. The picture would cost some $2,000,000.

Dramatically Producer Lasky hopped in a plane, took off for Nashville. Down to Nashville to meet him next day went Sergeant York. With him was his legal battery, canny Country Lawyer John Hale. Lawyer Hale had rocked Producer Lasky at the first of their three conferences by rejecting his clause-ridden Hollywood contract hands down. Drawled Hale: "What we want is a plain old Tennessee contract that simply says what you shall do and what the Sergeant shall do."

While Tennessee's Governor Prentice Cooper shot big-gun advice from behind the lines and Lasky and the lawyer pow-wowed, Sergeant York just talked. He talked about not liking to leave his post as head of a CCC camp (soon to close), about maybe running for Congress (he can't under the Hatch Act). He wasn't sure he was going to Hollywood. He wasn't even sure yet, he said, that the Lasky deal was a deal.* But one thing the Sergeant was sure of--what The Life of Sergeant York would be like. "It would be a true picture of my life . . . my contributions to my community since the war. It wouldn't be a war picture." Said War Hero Alvin C. York: "I don't like war pictures."

*Practically everybody else was. Reports had it that Lasky was offering $25,000 to the Sergeant, who was holding out, not too grimly, for $50,000.

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