Tony Thomas

Film Historian, Author, Producer

I find it curious that Charles Higham, in reading the FBI files on Errol Flynn, should feel a sense of betrayal by the actor (Jack Slater interview, Calendar, Feb. 3). It seems to me that Higham is himself something of a betrayer in presenting evidence upon which the FBI has made no stand. The evidence of Nazi sympathy appears to rest entirely on Flynn's association with Hermann Erben, a friend from his early years in the South Seas and for whom' he would doubtlessly go to bat. To my knowledge and I have been involved in writing two books on Flynn-he had no political convictions, other than vague, idealistic ones. But he did have an anti-social streak in his nature and any kind of revolution appealed to him.

Flynn is, admittedly, a hard man to defend. He was wild, irresponsible and self-destructive, and he would hardly be worth discussing had he not also been a man of great charm, humor and intelligence. Certainly he left a very definite niche in film history and I think it not inconsiderarble that people who knew him are concerned about the impression being given by Higham.

Higham presents some rather sketchy facts. Concerning "Dive Bombers," it is doubtful if Flynn, or any actor, would have had any say in the choice of locations. The script specified where the film needed to be shot and Warners did indeed have trouble getting in to shoot at the Naval Air Station at San Diego. But the film contains nothing about secret installations; it deals with medical aviation and it must have received naval approval in order to be released. How the film could have helped the Japanese is, to me, a mystery and Higharn does little to convince me by basing his allegations on his private conversations with the late associate-producer Robert Lord.

I, too, have some files on Flynn. For example: In the summer of 1940 he made a goodwill tour of South America on behalf of Hollywood. In the June 18, 1940, issue of the Buenos Aires Standard he said, "When today all our ideas of Right suddenly seem subjugated to those of Might, when the tramp of the invader stamps underfoot every precon - ceived notion of decency, Pan-Americanism, a strongly united North and South America, might show the rest of the world a light, a beacon, to guide it back to those principles of democracy without which I personally would not want to live."

In December of 1940, Flynn told Los Angeles reporter William A. Ulman Jr., in discussing his South American trip, "They-Germany and Italy-are getting ready to fight us-not just the British Empire-and they want to fight us in our own backyard-South Amerim I know, I was there. I saw the preparations, the 'tourists,' the Fifth Columnists, the huge radio programs, the saboteurs."

At the time of making these remarks, Flynn had received his first papers as an American citizen. After Pearl Harbor he volunteered for the services but has rejected as medically unfit ). Even knowing the Roosevelts was no help on that score. FDR, it might be noted, was the one politician Flynn seemed to idolize and he kept an autographed photo of the President on display at his home on Mulholland Drive.

I feel, as do others who knew Flynn, that he was all bit of a rogue and in many ways foolish and profligate. But "an intrinsically evil human being?" Well-, Higham is entitled to his opinion. Mine is that he and his publisher have almost guaranteed themselves a best seller and that they have done it in an intrinsically rotten way.

TONY THOMAS, Burbank LOS ANGELES TIMES 2-7-80

This was delivered July 12, 1997 at the memorial service for Tony Thomas

by Andrea Thomas

What I remember most about my father was making him laugh. I'm sure most of you think of my dad as a serious, dignified gentleman. Indeed he was, but there was another, lighter side of Tony Thomas. It was my quest, in fact, my duty to bring it out. From the earliest age it seemed I inspired the absurd in my father. He used to get into trouble with my mother for chasing me around the house scaring the wits out of me by acting like an escaped lunatic.

Neither one of use was able to engage in serious conversation for long before the other would break it up. If my dad was trying to make a serious point and was reaching a dramatic climax, I would be compelled to interject in a proper English accent, "Oh really father!" Then dad would say with mock indignation, "There you go! Always talking the mickey out of me!" I too was subject to having the wind removed from my sails. If I was approaching the melodramatic, my father would interrupt me at the most inopportune time to say in a Brooklyn accent, "Really kid? Tell me about it."

My dad and I shared many laughs. This often became contagious. We would be walking down the street and all of a sudden dad would take my hand and we would start skipping and giggling until we had exhausted ourselves. I think the best thing about my dad's humor was that it was totally out of the blue.

My father was a man of great contrast. I'm sure most of you associate my father's writing with Hollywood history, film music liner notes and interviews with celebrities. In addition to all of this factual writing, my dad had incredible imagination. Not only did he write plays and song lyrics, but he had a mighty repertoire of children's stories. Every night he would sit at the edge of my bed and tell me a new adventure trying to come up with fresh inventive plots for hippos tramping the river banks and monkeys swinging through the trees. I imagine there are only so many things a hippo can do. Dad told me recently that he used to rack his brain trying to come up with new story ideas.

Of all the people I've know, my dad was most excited about stretching the limits of the mind. I'd come home from high school frustrated with an algebra problem going on about how pointless these problems were and dad would tell me how important it was to exercise the mind and that the brain needs these kinds of challenges in order to grow and expand its capacity. I bet he didn't know how to do the math, but he sure made a compelling argument for trying.

Dedication, determination and discipline were the guiding principles of my father's life. He came to Canada from England with $40 in his pocket determined to make a name for himself. He certainly did. It used to frustrate me that whenever I wanted to talk to dad he'd be sitting at that blasted typewriter pounding away. "Now now, I'm in the middle of a thought," he'd say. He was always in the middle of a thought. On the other hand, how else could one write thirty books in thirty years? My dad was driven. I've never known anyone else who could sit down and just write for eight hours (with brief interruptions for meals of course). I really respected my dad's sense of discipline. It's very hard to come by.

I find it incredible and funny that technology completely passed Dad by. Electric typewriters, word processors and computers were of no interest to him even though they would have made his task so much easier. He wrote every word on a manual Royal typewriter which sits at his desk to this day. Of course, I'm no one to talk, I write everything by hand. Boy, weThomases are really in the dark ages!

My father was a tremendous correspondent. He wrote letters to people all over the world (another Thomas tradition). My dad truly practiced the art of letter writing. He wooed many a lady and impressed many a gentleman with his eloquent prose. I used to tease my dad about being a walking dictionary. I once gave him a wonderful little book called The Superior Person's Book of Words. It had words in there I had never heard of! He said "Thank you, sweetheart," and gave it back to me a year later, saying, "Why don't you keep this, honey. I already knew all of these words." No vocabulary problems in this family, thank you.

My father as everyone sitting here must know had a marvelous gift for connecting people on projects. He single- handedly wove a tapestry of talent to perpetuate the memory of such notable and loved friends as: Harry Warren ("Uncle Harry" to us kids), Alfred Newman, Miklos Rosza, Erich Korngold, Hans Salter and I could go on. These people became part of our family and visa-versa. While dad may have seemed very serious and sometimes unapproachable, he was exceptionally loving and tremendously sentimental. In looking through my father's things, we have found the history of a loving, kind, affectionate, compassionate man who made great effort to connect and maintain connections of the mind and heart.

I will always remember my father for his sweetness, for nicknaming my brother The Hootie-Bootie Bird, for carrying me in from the car in his arms when I fell asleep, for visiting his ailing elderly friends every week without fail and for connecting the hearts, minds and souls of all those present here with a common love, bond and respect.

Thank you so much for coming today. I assure you my father is right here in this room enjoying what I will consider "The Greatest Show on Earth."

by Andrea Thomas

For I'll meet him later on at the place where he has gone
He'll be there with Korngold, Rosza and the rest,
He'll be smiling wide as wide, as he stands there close beside,
listening to the music he loved best.

On a screen of gossamer gold, they'll watch a film unfold,
scored by the music from above.
And Tony's hands keep time, to the rhythm and the rhyme,
of a score that fits the picture like a glove.

But Tony stays aware, there's another spirit there;
let's call the fellow "Avarice" for now.
And with a mighty roar, Avarice yells, "no more";
then shoves Rosza aside and takes a bow.

"You boys have got it wrong!" starts his all too familiar song.
"This old stuff is never gonna sell.
I've got graphs and charts as proof, that the rock songs of my youth,
can push this movie very, very well."

There's a hush there in the skyóas they hear the music die;
They don't know what to do or how to fight.
Writing counterpoint and song, are skills that are so wrong,
They're not the way to set this wrong to right.

Against someone so dense, they need wit and common sense.
Ahóbut someone must be smiling from above,
For the very man they need, has heard and taken heed,
He's there to save the music that he loves.

There's a quiet you can hear when Tony comes quite near,
And with each approaching step he shreds the dread,
The music men suppress a smile, knowing all the while;
That Tony will hand Avarice his head.

But a gentleman born, avoids ridicule and scorn;
They're not the tools he'd ever stoop to use,
He takes Avarice along, like a wayward son gone wrong,
And merely says it's time to pay his dues.

Tony gently persuadesóthe man to shift his gaze;
past the charts, the graphs, the hallowed bottom line,
And to think about his part, in creating works of art,
that will stand above and meet the test of time.

Tony starts to teach, a score has a special reach,
It touches directly to the heart,
It can set the action's pace, add pathos to a face,
You have to cast composers like a part.

Would Scarlet stand so strong, without "Tara's Theme" along,
would Rick break our hearts without "Time Goes By?"
Where would Star Wars soar, without John Williams score?
To strip it all away it is really wrong.

And Avarice walks away, he has nothing more to say;
For he's thinking thoughts he's never thought before.
And a fanfare shakes the clouds and composers cheer out loud,
For Tony Thomas has rescued the score.

And for us here down below; where the winds of commerce blow;
It's up to us to raise our fist and fight.
From that balcony above, he'll be watching those he loved,
Let's honor him and not give up the fight.

Brooks Wachtel
West Hollywood, California
July 10, 1997

Tony Thomas spent much of his life preserving Hollywood history through his 30-odd books, 50-plus record albums, and television documentaries. His interest in Hollywood dated back to the beginning of his career when the England-born Thomas -- who emigrated to Canada at age 18 -- served as an announcer for the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. The 21-year-old worked his way up in the company to become a writer and producer for the CBC radio network. Thomas specialized in programs about cinema and Hollywood. He moved to Tinseltown in 1966 to become a distinguished film historian who specialized in movie music. Thomas was very active in movements recognizing movie scores as legitimate orchestral music and co-founded the Society for the Preservation of Film Music, serving on its advisory board for many years. His books include Music for the Movies (1973) (considered a seminal work in the serious appraisal of film scores), The Films of 20th Century Fox, and The Busby Berkeley Book. As a documentary filmmaker, Thomas contributed to a number of biographies in Citadel's "Films of" series, including those of Jimmy Stewart, Marlon Brando, and Gene Kelly. In conjunction with the release of MGM's compilation film That's Dancing, Thomas released a complimentary book with the same title. In regard to recording, Thomas produced compilation albums of great scorists as well as individual albums featuring soundtracks composed by such greats as Erich Wolfgang Korngold and Alfred Newman. Thomas has written and produced many PBS-aired documentaries, including Hollywood and the American Image, The West That Never Was, Film Score: The Music of the Movies, and Michael Feinstein: Sing a Song Hollywood, for the American Movie Classics Channel in the mid-'90s.

Tony Thomas died from complications of pneumonia in Burbank, CA, at the age of 69.

Sandra Brennan, All Movie Guide

An interviewer once asked Archibald Leach how he managed to re-invent himself into one of the most admired movie idols of his time. Mr. Leach, who became the personification of debonair leading men as Cary Grant, replied that he simply imagined the type of fellow he most admired and then did his best to become that man.

Tony Thomas loved movies and the people involved in making them. He wasn't content to keep his enthusiasm to himself but dedicated his life to interviewing his idols, broadcasting the results on Canadian radio, and writing an extraordinary number of books for Citadel Press's legendary "The Films of..." series. The film that changed his life was The Adventures of Robin Hood with Errol Flynn. He co-authored the book on Flynn and produced the vinyl recording of the Erich Korngold score as preserved from a radio broadcast of musical excerpts conducted by the composer with narration by Basil Rathbone. Side Two of the record contained the last interview with Flynn before his death at age 50. It is both poignant and revealing in that Flynn comes across as a sort of modern-day Ulysses scorning the fates who betrayed him, yet still full of hope despite the ravages of alcohol and drugs that would bring about his end.

Fortunately for the rest of us, Tony did not imagine himself to be Errol Flynn, though that actor's many roles as the definite swashbuckler no doubt provided a source of perpetual joy. Tony produced the album of the wonderful score to that actor's last really good film, The Adventures of Don Juan, a very funny send-up of Flynn's own screen image featuring one of Max Steiner's best works. (It was later used to camp up George Hamilton's dual role in Zorro, the Gay Blade.)

I met Tony for the first time at the home of Max Steiner in Beverly Hills in 1978. I had recently relocated to sunny L.A. and was invited to an informal dinner party hosted by Lee, Max's widow. Al Bender and his wife were there along with composer/film music scholar John Morgan. I had done some cover illustrations for Al's Max Steiner Journal and begun chronicling the career of Miklos Rozsa on audio and film as a student at Diablo Valley College in Pleasant Hill, California. Tony was handsome enough to have been an actor himself, his baritone voice (which can be heard on the recording of Rozsa's The Vintner's Daughter) would seem to confirm this, but he seemed content to write and produce. The highlight of the party would often be listening to some new recording of music by Max or Erich that Tony had just produced. Tony wrote lyrics to the love theme for Flynn and Olivia de Havilland in their last film together They Died with Their Boots On, music by Max Steiner. These were limited edition items labeled "not for public sale" and have since become valuable collector's items.

Once I got a call from Tony to do the typesetting for a 2-record set of Bird of Paradise, music by Steiner. I designed a logo for his Medallion Record label and did the artwork for Music for Westerns (Steiner again). Both were produced by Lesley Anderson and Mike Snell of New York. I distinctly remember going to Tony's home in Glendale when the TV was on and we listened silently to Jerry Goldsmith's main title to Rio Conchos. I had brought a proposed layout for Hans Salter's Scarlet Street, featuring my own painting of Joan Bennett, the film's star. Ms. Bennett was still then living and Tony felt my rendering did not flatter her enough and opted to use a black and white glamour still instead. He was a perfectionist in everything he did and put forth his argument with such charm you'd end up agreeing with him. He also brought the music of Herbert Stothart out of mothballs when he produced a 2-record set containing the music from the original M-G-M Mutiny on the Bounty, Viva Villa, Anna Karenina, etc. My own favorite of these many productions was the release of original music masters to Rozsa's The Lost Weekend, containing the composer's three alternate finales.

Polly Jo Baker, Greg Nestor, Albert Dominguez, Dan Robbins are but a few of the many younger talents that Tony helped nurture in his recordings. He never had the funds to produce the large-scale, fully orchestrated stereo re- recordings pioneered by George Korngold and Charles Gerhardt (his contemporaries of the time), but he achieved much with little. His first book on film music composers entitled Music for the Movies contains interviews, candid photos of the musicians at work, and probably the first extensive discography of movie music then assembled.

I last saw Tony at the memorial for his friend Miklos Rozsa two years ago at the Hotel Bel-Air. He had aged very little in the intervening 17 years so it came as a complete surprise to me when Dan Robbins called me to inform me of his death on July 8 at age 79. He had been working on a new CD of music by Alfred Newman to include suites from The Razor's Edge, The Robe, The Greatest Story Ever Told and The Diary of Anne Frank.

Tony Thomas lived a full life and was generous enough to share his many interests with the rest of us. While he lacked the easy scholarship of a Christopher Palmer, he was a sure and thorough documentarian in all his writing. He preserved the thoughts and reminiscences of everybody from Francis X. Bushman to Walt Disney and pioneered the recording of film music on record when it was far from being fashionable or even profitable. His books on The Films of Twentieth Century Fox, The Great Adventure Films and the films of celebrities too numerous to mention here will help educate future students of film. We can all be thankful that he became the very special person that he was.

James "Pav" Pavelek
San Jose, California
22 July 97

A Remembrance: by John Morgan

I have known Tony Thomas for nearly 30 years. His many books and articles on film music have served as a firm foundation for the renaissance of classic symphonic film music recordings, starting in the early seventies. He loved film and film music and shared his passion and knowledge with the world.

In 1992, Tony introduced me to Klaus Heymann of Marco Polo Records and virtually got me my first "job" as a film music reconstructor. Some of my best and fondest memories of Tony are when conductor Bill Stromberg and I would have Tony come over and we would play tapes of some recent film music recording we did. As Tony got into the music, he would shut his eyes and start "conducting" the music. It didn't matter that he conducted everything in three-four time, his conducting signified his approval and love of the music. I am proud that Tony's liner notes have adorned seven of our releases.

Tony was a true gentleman. He gave freely of his time, talent and experience. The word "No" was not in his vocabulary. I can't even begin to count how many times he has contributed writings to albums for little or no remuneration. His liner notes for many film music recordings will always be a model of wit, knowledge and perspective.

Two of Tony's dream projects were complete recordings of Erich Korngold's Devotion and Max Steiner's They Died With Their Boots On. Both of these recordings have been scheduled and both will be dedicated to Tony.

I lost a dear friend, but the Film and Film Music world has lost a true icon. When you hear a recording of such composers as Korngold, Steiner, Rozsa, Newman, etc., chances are very good that Tony was involved in a significant way. Although Tony is gone, his contributions will be with us forever.

Goodbye old friend.
John W. Morga
Tarzana, California

Tony Thomas Remembered
by Preston Jones

"Who the hell wrote thatóAlfred Newman's brother-in-law?" The screenwriter was pointing at my brand-new copy of Music for the Movies, and the crew of New York film personnel got a good laugh out of his little joke. But I, the lowliest of production assistants that summer in Connecticut, didn't care. Someone had actually written a bookóa genuine, hardbound, elegantly written and profusely illustrated bookówhich finally treated my favorite subject with the affection and respect it had so long been denied. And I was in seventh heaven, devouring fresh pages at every lunch break. It was my introductionóand the beginning of my life-long indebtednessóto Tony Thomas.

Two years later, I was living in Hollywood, working on what I hoped would be a book about behind-the-scenes movie people. Thanks to a series of interviews with Hans J. Salter, I was befriended by that genial old-world gentleman whose scores had thrilled me since childhood. When I read in the paper that none other than Tony Thomas was organizing a series of meet the-composer events for Filmex, the local festival, I obtained his number and ventured to call him. "Yes?" he answered in that inimitable voice. (Readers of FSM are well aware of Tony's accomplishments, but unless they have heard his albums of interviews with film land greats, or his narration of "Vintner's Daughter" by Rozsa, they have missed the pleasure of hearing that English accent, seasoned in Canada, and spoken in one of the most distinctive and soothing tones this side of the late Alexander Scourby. In years to come, I would always smile at Tony's answering machine greeting: "You're listening to Tony Thomas on tape!" But tape and broadcast were indeed the natural habitat for Tony's voice.)

After introducing myself, and thanking him for Music for the Movies, I asked Mr. Thomas if he'd be interested in including Hans J. Salter on his panel of composers for horror and science fiction films. He was both stunned and enthusiastic: "My God, is he still alive? I'd love to meet him!" A meeting at Hans' home was quickly arrangedócatered by Viennese cookies courtesy of Hans' wife Mausiówhereat the composer greeted the author with characteristic cordiality. Be it noted, however, that Salter couldn't resist pointing out matter-of-factly that, much as he, too, had enjoyed reading Music for the Movies, he'd noticed that his own name was not mentioned within its pages. Tony somewhat abashedly explained the space limitations under which he had been laboring in this ground-breaking tome. But, if he felt remiss in not including Hans in his book, Tony more than made up for the slight many times over in the years that followed. For, despite the hundreds of titles in his resume, Hans had never had a single record album devoted to one of his scores. It was a glaring oversight in the musical marketplace which Tony quickly set out to rectify. Like flowers suddenly blooming in the barren wasteland, Salter soundtrack LPs sprouted forth in record stores under the imprimus of Tony's labor-of-love label, Citadel.

This record-releasing company was of course one of Tony's finest accomplishments. He didn't merely proselytize for the music he believed in, he did everything he could to make the scores available to his fellow aficionados. And he enjoyed providing encouragement and opportunities for those of us who aspired to follow in his footsteps. I was one such fortunate recipient of Tony's consideration when he invited me to write the liner notes for Hans' first LP, the TV score, Maya. (As compensation, Tony offered me my pick of Citadel albums, and to this day those discs constitute one of my most welcome salaries.)

Maya already existed as a fully-produced yet unreleased album when Tony brought it out on Citadel, but all the other Salter LPs were carefully supervised Tony Thomas productions. I enjoyed being a fly-on-the-wall while Tony and Hans were selecting tracks for the Wichita Town album, choosing cues and then comparing takes for optimum tempo, orchestral expressivity, etc. I happened to particularly enjoy one item of source music, a honky-tonk piece for saloon piano, and suggested it be included on the disc, but Tony had a very definite reason for disagreeing with me. He explained that in his experience the majority of film music fans preferred that a record contain exclusively selections featuring full orchestra, as opposed to vocal or instrumental solos. Although I tried unsuccessfully to lobby for this one exception, I had to admire Tony's knowledge of his audience and his desire to create a product which would please them.

But it wasn't merely the recordings which made me glad that I had introduced Tony and Hans to each other. It was always a particular delight to enjoy their interactions over the years. To the composer, in the last decades of his life, it was a boon to have a new friend who shared so many old affinities, a man of culture who could converse in English or German about the Vienna that had long ago vanished and her musicians who will always be with us. Every January, Hans invited his circle of friends to the Sportsman's Lodge for his birthday brunch, "At which," as his verbal invitations stipulated, "No gifts are to be brought, and no speeches are to be made," to which of course many of us couldn't resist bringing presents and making speeches. I have many fond memories of Tony at these occasions, serving perfectly as the unofficial toastmaster, reading letters from such well-wishers as Miklos Rozsa and Henry Mancini, and always offering his own testimonial to his friend with wit, eloquence and grace.

As Hans and the century embarked upon their tenth decade, Tony enjoyed discussing with Hans his ideas for a special celebration to mark the composer's hundredth birthday, and for many years it looked as if this event would become an actuality. Alas, two years shy of the mark, and within a year of the passing of his beloved Mausi, Hans left our planet. Tony's final speech in tribute to Hans was delivered at his friend's graveside, and it was characterized by the depth of affection and artful selection of words which had distinguished all of his birthday toastsóand his many books and album liner notes.

How I would have wished for Tony the full hundred years which he had wished for Hans. One would think he truly had lived that long, looking at the number of books, records, shows and documentaries he managed to write and/or produce in his allotted span. A number of notable composers and producers joined family and other friends for Tony's memorial at the theater of the Beverly Garland Hotel on July 12th. More than one speaker mentioned that Tony's innate dignity and reserve could sometimes make him seem distant and a little aloof, and from my own experience of Tony I could identify with these remarks. And yet, here we all were, a packed house of mourners celebrating our love for the man who had brought so much love to us through his life's work.

So much love, and knowledge, and beauty. We will spend the rest of our lives reading and re-reading books by Tony, and listening to albums of music which never would have been recorded and/or released had it not been for Tony's steadfast love and dedication. To have touched and enriched so many lives is, of course, a form of immortality, and no oneónot even Alfred Newman or his brother-in-lawócould ask to leave behind a better legacy.

But I'm still going to miss Tony's voice.

Preston Neal Jones
Hollywood, California
July 30, 1997