G. W. "Billy" Bitzer

The allocation of honors for creative contributions to the motion picture is a difficult task. But if a medal is ever stamped with the face of David Wark Griffith, its reverse side would have to bear the likeness of G.W. "Billy" Bitzer, Griffith’s cameraman. The association of these two artists from the time Griffith stepped into the old Biograph studio in 1908 to the duo’s mastering of techniques with such films as The Birth of a Nation is an historic example of the interdependence of the arts in the creation of motion pictures. None can detract from the stature of Griffith as the single greatest force in the American film. Griffith did more than make great pictures. He brought into being the basic elements of the motion picture’s inherent idiom. He developed mere tricks of photography into a method of creative expression. But he didn’t do it alone. The collective nature of film art made it inevitable that he should share his efforts and his glory with others, and most of all with Billy Bitzer. Bitzer started his career as a cameraman in 1896 with the then Biograph Studios, located at 841 Broadway, New York. Prior to the name Biograph, the company was called the Magic Introduction Company, then the American Mutoscope Company. It was then that Bitzer and former edison inventor W.K.L. Dickson devised the Mutoscope machine, using the flip book technique of creating movement in pictures. He also perfected the Biograph camera, adding an air compressor to reduce friction. Between 1896 and 1908, Bitzer photographed numerous newsreels, his assignments including President William McKinley’s inauguration, the Spanish-American War in Cuba, and the Jim Jeffries-Jim Sharkey championship fightÑwhich was possibly the first film to use artificial light. In 1908, the Biograph Comany moved to its famous landmark at 11 East 14th Street. By this time, Bitzer had pioneered the matte shot, as well as various kinds of effects lighting, and the famous Griffith-Bitzer collaboration began with a film called A Calamitous Elopement. This collaboration between the two would last for sixteen years, in which Griffith made use of Bitzer’s innovations, allowing him to perfect techniques such as the fade and dissolve, as well as encouraging him to invent new ones. They would team up on films such as The Usurer (1910), The Informer (1912), The Old Actor (1912), One is Business, The Other Crime (1912). It was at this time D.W. Griffith decided to leave Biograph and their restrictive policies, taking Bitzer with him. They went to the Mutual Film Corporation, where they began work on The Birth of a Nation (1915) and Intolerance (1916), which was their highest integration of film grammar. Bitzer contributed his life savings of $7,000 to the $60,000 budget of The Birth of a Nation, but recouped his investment four times over from the success of that film. The dynamic duo continued to churn out films such as: The Great Love (1918), The Greatest Thing in Life (1918), Hearts of the World (1918), Broken Blossoms (1919), The Girl Who Stayed at Home (1919), The Greatest Question (1919), A Romance of Happy Valley (1919), Scarlet Days (1919), True Heart Susie (1919), The Idol Dancer (1920), The Love Flower (1920), and Way Down East (1920). In the 1920s, more modern cameras came on the market, such as the Bell & Howell, which caused Bitzer to be ridiculed when he appeared on the set with the Pathe camera he had used since The Birth of a Nation. Rather than replace the camera he loved so much, Bitzer worked less frequently, shooting only a dozen or so films after 1920. He and Griffith once again tackled a large-scale epic, Orphans of the Storm (1922) hoping to produce another Birth of a Nation. The film was favorably reviewed and fared rather well, but lost money as a result of unexpected copyright and accounting problems. After The White Rose (1923), the duo resurfaced with an impressive, pictorially exciting panoramic of the Revolutionary War with America (1924), the last of this team’s great silent epics. Bitzer joined Griffith once again for what was seen as mediocre-Griffith films done under a studio contract, The Battle of the Sexes (1928), Drums of Love (1928), and Lady of the Pavements (1929). Bitzer always believed that unusual photography could only be achieved when there was the proper kind of collaboration between cameraman and director. Bitzer felt that if the director had clear ideas of the visual effects he wanted to achieve, if he was certain of the composition, the emphasis and the dramatic quality he wanted, the cameraman could become a pliant, creative agent. Bitzer once talked of an experiment he made one day while on the set at Fort Lee. Mary Pickford and Owen Moore, who were later married, were resting between sequences, Ôgetting frisky.’ They happened to be sitting within range of Bitzer’s camera, and the playful Bitzer thought it would be amusing if some scenes of their romantic interlude found their way to the screen of the projection room when the day’s shooting was done. The blissful couple was between the camera and the sun. There was only one thing for Bitzer to do, turn the crank and shade the lens with his hand. The little company that sat in the projection room that night got a thrill. Bitzer’s trick gave far better results than he expected because the edge of the white gravel road, which Moore and Pickford were sitting on, reflected sufficient light to give effective illumination to the faces. Elated by his accident achievement, he took care to prevent others from thinking it accidental and studied the lighting conditions which made his little stroke of luck possible, until he knew how to produce the effect at will. On a second attempt, during the filming of a love scene, Bitzer shaded the lens with his cap and part of the cap appeared on the film. He was told by a producer to "stop fooling around." Undaunted, Bitzer cut the bottom out of a glue can and made a shade for the lens. When the film was projected it was discovered that corners of the film frames were cut off by the curves of the glue can. The result of the glue can incident was the development of the iris which made it possible for the fade-in and fade-out. Irises for fading didn’t exist then. It was necessary to describe the non-existent device and ask a manufacturer to produce one. Like the iris, the close-up and the flash-back came into use as devices by which the director increased the expressiveness of his medium. Griffith often used to complain to Bitzer that there was no way of centering attention on a single individual in the highly dramatic moments of a picture. One early attempt to approximate the close-up consisted of photographing through a gauze screen with a circular opening. The effect was to throw the minor characters into a shadowy haze while the principal actor’s face was seen sharply through the opening in the screen. This was quickly abandoned. Filters with clear centers were also tried and found wanting. Finally the fade combined with the close-up gave an effective means of centering attention on the emotions and actions of a single individual in a film. Even Mary Pickford, who makes no claim in this field, contributed her share to movie photography, Bitzer said. She complained repeatedly that when she went to the movies with her mother to see her pictures, she wasn’t happy to find that her screen images gave her a ghostly pallor. Bitzer, immersed in other problems, paid scant heed to her. He told her she had seen a bad copy of the film. When she persisted, saying that all the copies gave the same ghost-like effect, Bitzer gave the matter some thought, but Mary herself solved the problem by suggesting that she use darker makeup. Tests proved Mary was right and makeup finally began to receive the detailed attention needed for its development into the highly specialized art which it is today. Bitzer once declared, "We took our work seriously in those days. We were always experimenting, fooling around, playing with lenses and lights, not because we had any clear idea of what we were after but because we had a vague hope that we would hit on something." Bitzer’s views on camera art need to be told, but even more does his personal relationship to the movie industry. Bitzer last worked in Hollywood in 1929. Sixteen years of around-the-clock camera work had taken it’s toll, and eventually forced Griffith to look toward younger cinematographers who had once assisted his partner. Having lost a fortune in the easy-come, easy-go days of Coolidge prosperity, Bitzer was working in New York filming screen tests and doing other photographic odd jobs, when he asked for a chance to go back to Hollywood. He was assured, on his own insistence, that he would be treated like any other ace cameraman. Bitzer disdained to call himself an artist and the phrase ace cameraman was his own. Arriving in Hollywood, Bitzer worked the usual two weeks before approaching the pay window and asking the pay clerk for his check. If he had ever doubted that the paths of movie glory lead but to obscurity, he ceased doubting as he stood before the cashier’s cage. The clerk had never heard of him. Bitzer repeated his name. The clerk looked through his records and came back saying, "I’m sorry, we have no one by the name of Mitchell on the payroll." When Bitzer spelled his name another search was made and still his place on the payroll wasn’t found. A conference with the production manager revealed that no provision had ever been made to put Bitzer on the payroll at the $500 a week, which was the common salary of the other top cameramen on the lot. Broke, and without much choice, Bitzer remained to work at a much lower salary than he had been led to expect. How much lower he never cared to say. But Bitzer sought a recourse which has become increasingly popular on the West Coast since 1929. He set about organizing a union. In New York, it is not commonly known, Bitzer had been one of the founders of the International Photographers Guild of the Motion Picture Industries which embraced all of the lower rank cameraman and assistants who could not get into the exclusive and expensive American Society of Cinematographers. That was in 1926, and Bitzer was not only the first president of that local but was elected unanimously to a second term of office. On the West Coast the industry was in a state of confusion because of the coming of sound. Cameramen and assistants saw a danger in the low salaries which were being paid to many lesser sound technicians. When Bitzer pointed out to his fellow photographers that they stood in danger of being reduced to similar levels, they were quick to respond and Local 659, the International Photographers Guild, was set up in Hollywood. Meetings were held in secret but membership swelled swiftly. New grievances came to light as the union got under way and not the least of them was a variation of the old kick-back racket. The producers were alarmed and Billy Bitzer, ace cameraman, the creative eye through which the great Griffith captured his visions of beauty and grandeur, was blacklisted. By quick steps he was cased off the lot and made to understand that he would be far better off on the coast of another ocean than the Pacific. Bitzer told the story of an attempt to bribe him. An offer of $50,000 to retire from the union was made to him by a cameraman who had served his apprenticeship under him. But Bitzer understood unionism better than the producers who were fighting it. "Suppose I did quit now," Bitzer said. "I couldn’t stop the union. Once these things get started no one man is big enough to call a halt. Besides, what will I be able to say when people ask where the great ace cameraman was during the struggle of his fellow photographers to organize? What will I be able to answer when people ask why Billy Bitzer wasn’t in the fight? It isn’t worth $50,000. I’ve had far more than that and a man who knows the value of moeny also knows how worthless money can be." Thus Bitzer left Hollywood and returned to New York, where he worked in a photographic shop until 1939, at which point the Museum of Modern Art hired him to work on their film archives. Bitzer repaired old cameras and restored film prints. During this time, he began writing his autobiography, Billy Bitzer: My Story, which was finally published posthumously in 1973. In 1943, Bitzer’s health forced him to return to California, where he died a year later, forgotten by the industry he had helped to establish. Note: The International Photographers Guild in New York, formerly Local 644, began the Billy Bitzer Awards in 1975. Since then, this honor has been awarded to those who have made a contribution to the film industry. In November, 1976, Billy Bitzer received this recognition posthumously for his great contributions to the beginning of film.