Longtime Hollywood agent, producer and studio mogul Guy McElwaine, 71, died at 5:15 AM. Many knew he was gravely ill and made the pilgrimage to his bedside at his home in Bel Air to say goodbye in recent days. I knew Guy very well so I also recognize this is a tremendous loss to Hollywood. Not just because of the kind of person he was: gentlemanly yet gruff, easy-going yet stern. But even more because he represented a showbiz breed that is too rapidly dying out along with their enormous repository of Industry history. The perennially tan, silver-haired agent was the kind of man other men liked and women loved -- a charming, martini-drinking, storytelling gentile. Scrupulously loyal to clients, he was also a tough, shrewd negotiator who knew the politics and the rituals of Hollywood as only a true insider can. His friends were established Hollywood: Alan Ladd Junior, Frank Price and Ray Stark, who, in the ultimate compliment, once called the agent “a Jew in Goy clothing.”
Where do I start? There are so many stories, not just the ones about Guy but the ones he used to tell about himself. His days as an MGM publicist, alongside Elvis Presley and Frank Sinatra. As a Columbia Pictures executive, when he got into a fistfight with Laddie over exactly how many times the rakish McElwaine had been married. (One of his children is Dawn Taubin, who had a long career in film marketing at Warner Bros.) As a top motion picture agent, when he used a controversial windmill-style of softball pitch that ended up in an on-field brawl between William Morris and ICM's forerunner, CMA, on the diamond at Rancho Park, across the street from the Fox backlot. (With a bemused Elliott Gould trying to play peacemaker from the bleechers.)
McElwaine would have rather been a baseball legend than a Hollywood legend, and he would have been but for a torn rotator cuff that killed his minor-league career. Guy was a local boy, born in the original Cedars of Lebanon Hospital on Fountain Avenue in Hollywood and raised in Culver City, where his father worked nearby as an MGM studio publicist. The son went to USC on a baseball scholarship, which he lost when news leaked out that he'd played for the Hollywood Stars, the town’s popular minor league run by the Pittsburgh Pirates. Married with two kids by the time he was 21, he worked three jobs and attended night school at UCLA. His older sibling, Bob, was working for Danny Kaye and managed to land his kid brother a job in the mailroom of Paramount for $49 a week. One day, McElwaine was talent-spotted on the lot, and he soon found himself spending half his day collating and the other half in acting classes with Ursula Andress. McElwaine finally screened for a bit part in a new Doris Day movie and landed the role; unfortunately, McElwaine’s acting debut ended up on the cutting room floor. (He had all the footage destroyed, so “nobody could ever surprise me at some birthday party.”)
His other brother, Don, who worked at MGM, arranged for Guy to publish an in-house studio newspaper. McElwaine got the idea to interview some of the young unknown actors MGM had under contract and, before long, he was getting pieces published by the town’s gossip sisters Hedda Hopper, Esmey Chandler and Louella Parsons. One day at a meeting in the studio's publicity department, the assembled group of middle-aged flacks had never heard of Elvis Presley. MGM had signed the singer to a 3-picture deal, and after a meeting Col Tom Parker told the young publicist: “You’re my man.” After the release of Jailhouse Rock, McElwaine began traveling with Elvis and the Colonel on the singer’s new tour -- the one where Elvis was arrested for indecency.
Back at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel room that night, Elvis asked his young publicist, “Do you think I do a dirty show?”
“In my opinion, yeah, you go a little far in certain areas,” McElwaine replied truthfully.
The next day, McElwaine was back at MGM; his tour with Elvis was over. Recalled McElwaine. “There’s a fine line you walk, and at that age, I hadn’t learned how to walk it.” He did soon enough as the unit publicist on Frank Sinatra's shoots at MGM.
McElwaine eventually left MGM for the publicity firm Roger & Cowan to handle Sinatra’s account personally. After a few years, McElwaine started his own flackery, Guy McElwaine and Associates. He represented Natalie Wood, Warren Beatty, the Righteous Brothers, the Mamas and the Papas and Judy Garland. (One night in Vegas, Garland called McElwaine onto the stage and said, “I’ve only sang Happy Birthday once in my life in public and that was to Clark Gable; now I’m going to sing it to you.”) He soon transformed his PR firm into a management company. Through Garland, McElwaine met Freddie Fields. The two men liked each other immediately and by 1968, McElwaine joined CMA as a vice president, bringing over many of his clients. He also helped young, brash, ambitious television director Steven Spielberg transition into a prominent feature film director. When CMA morphed into ICM, McElwaine as head of motion pictures was one of the town’s biggest players and signing big-name directors as clients. Yet, ironically, Spielberg's now enormous success began to feed McElwaine’s growing dissatisfaction with agenting. The agent felt cheated out of the fulfillment of the creative end. “I would visit Steven on the set, and I would get the lowest feeling, because you stand there like a dope; you’re not doing any work,” recalled McElwaine. “I never got to see Steven’s films all the way through. I’d be right with him up to principle photography, then the next thing I saw the rough cut.”
With Freddie Fields out the door and CMA a cog in the new ICM machine, McElwaine decided the time was as good as any to pursue another career. Not long after he cut the deal for Close Encounters, the agent went to Warner Bros as John Calley’s production executive. Yet, in another ironic twist, it would be Spielberg who indirectly prompted McElwaine to return to agenting. In December 1975, former Warner Bros president Ted Ashley was hired back to head the studio. But Ashley and McElwaine had different tastes in film. Besides Close Encounters, McElwaine spent 18 months working closely with Warren Beatty developing Heaven Can Wait. McElwaine considered both Beatty's and Spielberg’s movies the kind of crafted yet commercial viable pics Hollywood should be making. “I thought if Ted didn’t like those two scripts, then I was at the wrong place,” recalled McElwaine. By the end of 1977, McElwaine quit Warner and returned to ICM. Spielberg re-signed with the agent immediately, as did many of McElwaine’s former clients. Within months, it was as though the agent had never left.
But he did leave again, when in June 1980 he was passed over for the presidency of ICM by owner Marvin Josephson in favor of Jeff Berg, then the 33-year-old head of motion picture lit. The next day, McElwaine received a phone call about it from Josephson early in the morning. “I didn’t take it well,” McElwaine confessed. “I didn’t like the way it was done. Had it been discussed with me, it would have been all right. I was offended. I decided I wanted to leave." Within three months, despite a long-term contract, McElwaine was out the door. He leaped back into production as the head of Rastar Entertainment, then became Frank Price’s second-in-command at Columbia. When Price jumped to Universal at the end of 1983, McElwaine was given the job of his former boss, chairman of Columbia Pictures. It wasn’t long before many of his biggest clients and agents were out the ICM door after Guy's leaving ICM provided the opportunity for then upstart CAA to start winning the agency wars.
But McElwaine was tempted by the agency business again and again. Few know that, after the William Morris Agency's motion picture head Stan Kamen died in 1986, the job was offered to several major Hollywood names, including McElwaine. As head of Columbia, McElwaine had overseen a number of hits, including The Big Chill, Ghostbusters and Jerry Weintraub’s The Karate Kid. But by 1985, the studio was plagued by expensive bombs like The Bride of Frankenstein and The Slugger’s Wife. McElwaine kept having to fly back to Atlanta to answer to the executive suites at the studio’s new owner, Coca-Cola. In 1986, he was forced out of Columbia. That's when WMA's Roger Davis pursued his pal McElwaine who believed he could rebuild the department. But it would take lots of money. And he wanted to be made a board member. The Morris board argued and mulled and wondered whether it was worth it. An impatient McElwaine signed a lucrative production deal instead with his pal Jerry Weintraub, who’d been made chief at United Artists.
McElwaine was out of a job again when UA replaced Weintraub with Tony Thomopoulos and Lee Rich. Guy kicked around a number of opportunities, including offers from both Steven Spielberg and Warren Beatty to run their production companies. Ultimately, McElwaine settled on his own independent production company, cutting first- and second-look deals at Columbia, Universal and Warner Bros. By 1988, Weintraub had found financing to start his own independent studio, Weintraub Entertainment Group, and hired McElwaine to run the motion picture division. But soon Weinraub’s company was having financial problems. And McElwaine was bored churning out middle-range family movies like Troop Beverly Hills. “I couldn’t take it any more,” Guy confessed. “Some people had started to know I was unhappy. And agencies started talking to me and I would just listen." That's when Jeff Berg, Sam Cohn and Jim Wiatt cajoled McElwaine one night over dinner to go back into the agency business at ICM. “We all left there feeling like we had never been apart,” recalled McElwaine.
One client who immediately came back to him was his close friend, screenwriter Joe Eszterhas, then represented by CAA. And that's how the infamous "Eszterhas letter" came about, when Joe wrote how he was threatened by Mike Ovitz for wanting to re-sign with rival McElwaine. The missive was faxed all over Hollywood and became a cause celebre. I won't go into all the gory details here, but you have to know that Mike Ovitz once told CAA that if McElwaine ever got back in the agency business, "it would be curtains for all of us.” As it happened, McElwaine expressed this concern to Eszterhas if Ovitz made good on the threats. “Do what’s right for you. Don’t do what’s right for us.”
It was a testimony to McElwaine’s reputation that no one ever seemed to question whether he could really lure back any of his former clients. Most were already ensconced at CAA. But in truth the agency business McElwaine had left was much different when he returned. At the time ICM had already lost so much ground to CAA, and kept losing ground for years after, that it was too much to make up. I can't begin to tell you how that saddened McElwaine.
In 1998, McElwaine moved back into production as president and COO of Trilogy Entertainment, and then in 2002, with Morgan Creek Productions. My last conversation with Guy, like my first conversation with Guy, was enjoyable and educational. Let me sum up this way: If Hollywood is populated by a one-of-a-kind breed, then he was a purebred.
A true legend! Guy will be missed. To all you youngsters in the business Google him and take a look at what he did/accomplished. A pretty good minor league baseball player. Was Sinatra’s right hand guy. Was JFK’s LA guy. Was Spielberg’s first agent. Repped stars like Marilyn Monroe. Dated Victoria Principal and Nancy Sinatra. And ran Columbia and Warner Bros for a time. He gave us 4-5 movies the last couple years including The Good Shepherd.
Comment by Pookie — April 2, 2008 @ 3:50 pm
I just adored him.
My deepest sympathies to his family and friends.
RIP Baby.
Comment by Proud to have known him — April 2, 2008 @ 4:52 pm
Sounds like one of those fascinating characters combining chutzpah, intelligence, and solid gut instinct that you just don’t see in Hollywood anymore.
I offer the best sympathy to his family and friends that something as impersonal as an internet comment can.
Comment by Furious D — April 2, 2008 @ 5:30 pm
I have been Guy’s assistant for the last two years. He was a better man than any words could say… he will be missed by us all… I’ll miss you babe.
Comment by Semmel — April 2, 2008 @ 6:09 pm
did he ever work with walter winchell?
Comment by epfalcon — April 2, 2008 @ 9:30 pm
What a beautiful ‘letter’ to all of us, from you Nikke, about a man I have never met. Somehow your brought him, thisclose to me. It is not easy to write about those we love, but your words are precious. Author, NINE LETTERS TO A DEAD MAN…BEFORE BEING FOUND BY LOVE AGAIN. (I hope you DO write a biography of Guy’s great spirit!) Sulaika
Comment by SuSulaikalaikal — April 3, 2008 @ 9:48 am
Guy was a personal as well as business associate for many years. One of the rare Good Guys. His wit and sage advice will be sorely missed.
Comment by larry gleason — April 3, 2008 @ 10:52 am
My Uncle Guy will be deeply missed. My heart goes out to his children. What I remember of him most was that he was very prankish. He was a real joker. As a teenager he would always throw me in the pool with my clothes on, no matter what. He was absolutely a Hollywood legend and I thank you for writing such a great article.
Gay McElwaine
Comment by Gay McElwaine — April 3, 2008 @ 11:50 am
dear nikki,
that was a loving, loving obituary. cudos to you - and him…
Comment by petter — April 3, 2008 @ 12:51 pm
What a wonderful tribute to a once-in-a-lifetime individual. He is the American success story, starting out in the Paramount mail room and by virtue of sheer guts and a lot of talent rose to be a legendary movie-maker. His father, whose silent-movie company was wiped out by talkies and the Great Depression, always wanted to run a studio again. Guy fulfilled his Dad’s dreams and then surpassed them by many miles.
He held himself to high standards, and would not compromise his principles. He had an instict for quality and saw opportunities where no one else did.
Those who knew him will agree — there can never be another like him.
And his brother Bob always complained that his hand never healed after catching Guy’s fastballs when they were young. He went on to be a star pitcher in the minor leagues.
Comment by Andrew McElwaine — April 3, 2008 @ 1:05 pm
Thanks for the hagiography, Nikki.
Unfortunately, we’re really starting to lose alot of the pros who truly appreciated Hollywood history and tactfully combined professionalism and creativity, but with the appropriate sternness necessary to deal with all the mercurial personalities in this town.
I always tell people with whom I’m acquainted that they might enjoy two books about the history of this town: “Lion of Hollywood” the biography of Louis Mayer, but also the story of when MGM ruled the entertainment world and “An Empire of Their Own” which is how eastern European Jews came from essentially nothing to “create” Hollywood. Louis Mayer, Adolph Zukor (though he was somewhat successful already in the family fur biz), Carl Laemmle, Harry Cohn (the archetypical Hollywood SOB), and the Warners. Unfortunately, no one young (below the age of 35, like me) seems to care. They’d rather read about catfights between Heidi Montag and Lauren Conrad in US Magazine.
I really would’ve enjoyed a dinner with Guy McElvaine. He will be missed.
Comment by P.J. — April 3, 2008 @ 1:16 pm
Uncle Guy was my favorite Uncle when I was a kid.
He would always visit us and bring lots of gifts.
My father Don was Guys older brother who crossed over in 1978. Now they are both in heaven. Don was head of casting at Universal in the 70’s. Don was very jealous of Guy when he became Vice President of Warner Bros., but he said that Guy got the best job in Hollywood. I have to respect the great things that these men accomplished in there lives.
Guy played sem-pro baseball when he was young.
I used to go watch some of his games.
Once he got me tickets to see “The Mammas & Poppas” in concert. That was my first concert. Guy was managing them at the time. He went on to help build one of the biggest talent agencys in Hollywood, I.C.M.
He managed lots of stars, like Frank Sinatra, Sammy Davis Jr., Dean Martin. The list if too big to recall.
Nancy Sinatra cried at one of Guys weddings. I guess they used to go out.
When I was a stupid kid Guy lent me his Jaguar X.K.E.
I blew it up on the freeway racing it. It didn’t have a racing rear end and couldn’t take the speed. Guy didn’t even get mad at me about it, but my parents sure did. Sometimes he would spend hours on end talking to me about life and how to cope with it.
He was a legend in his own time and it tears my heart out that he is gone.
Comment by Stephen McElwaine — April 3, 2008 @ 2:58 pm
Sounds like Guy makes the case for cloning, especially by what passes for professionalism, these days.
Also sounds like Guy left a lot of great family behind who very much loved and adored him. That’s Guy’s real legacy. The Hollywood legacy, although nice, is only just - (gasp), Hollywood.
Comment by Bonnie — April 4, 2008 @ 7:43 am
I remember Guy quite well; he was one of the senior agents who gave me my first job as an agent trainee at ICM in June of 1978. Although I wound up working as Jeff Berg’s assistant before I left several years later, I developed a great fondness for Guy, and I fondly remember many a late afternoon in his corner office on the eighth floor of the old brown ICM building on Beverly Boulevard near Doheny with a drink in my hand looking out at a beautiful setting sun casting a golden glow out over the Hollywood Hills above Sunset Strip, listening to his stories and absorbing his advice. He struck me then, and impressed me ever since, as one of the few people I met in the agency business who really loved movies, who understood them and appreciated them and wasn’t merely interested in cutting the best deal but in seeing the best movie got made. Further, he held to a standard of collegiality and professional respect toward agents at other companies that I always appreciate; he told me once that he and Stan Kamen at William Morris would call each other whenever a disgruntled client would make an entreaty that change representation. He’d call Stan and say “Stan, I think you have a problem with so-and-so. If it’s beyond repair, I’ll love to represent that person, but take a shot at repairing the relationship before I move to sign them.”
I remember vividly how wounded he felt when Jeff Berg was made president of ICM over him in 1980 and it was clear at that moment that he wasn’t going to stick around much longer. A friend of mine who was close to John Cassavetes, then a client of Guy’s, told me that John was despondent because he knew Guy was going to leave. Cassavetes said “I don’t know what I’m going to do now, with Guy I could always tell when he was lying to me.” On another occasion he was playing a round of golf at Riviera with a writer friend of mine who was experiencing girl friend problems. Guy offered his advice but ended by saying “But what do I know, I’ve only been married ….” and couldn’t recall the number of times he’d said “I do.”
He was a gentleman and a real talent as a Hollywood executive. The business these days needs more of what he brought to it. I don’t think that for a minute he didn’t appreciate how fortunate he was. I’m lifting a glass to you tonight, Guy
Comment by mrmrjimmi — April 4, 2008 @ 1:57 pm
I first met Guy in 1998, shortly after he became partner and COO of Trilogy Entertainment Group. Along with John Watson, he championed my book, “Hacksaw” and brought in Ron Shelton as director. He totally believed in the project until he left to join Morgan Creek, and I remember sitting in his office on several sunset evenings, listening in fasination to his endless stories about Hollywood and his many ex wives (which he never seemed to remember the exact number). He was both a rogue and a gentleman, depending on how you came across with him, and I was honored to call him friend. Even after he left Trilogy, I could always send a spec script to Guy for an honest read and constructive feedback. He was one of the old school guys who helped make Hollywood what it is today. I will sorely miss him - as will everyone who was fortunate enough for him to call friend.
Ed Jones
Comment by Ed Jonesks — April 4, 2008 @ 4:22 pm
He was a good man and I liked him. He was a good colleague and I enjoyed his company especially because we both loved baseball. I wish I had known he was ill. I would like to have said goodbye.
Comment by Fay Vincent — April 4, 2008 @ 4:42 pm
Guy was one of the best —funny, brilliant, passionate and kind. The last of the greats. He will be missed….
Comment by writerman — April 5, 2008 @ 3:21 am
I liked Guy enormously. Too bad he ended his years as toady for James Robinson.
Comment by charlesb — April 5, 2008 @ 6:46 am
I learned of Guy’s illness a little over a month ago and was sworn to secrecy. I wanted to write him a note and wish him well but I also wanted to respect his privacy, so I waited.
Now it saddens me to no end that I didn’t get to tell him what a true mensch he was.
I was his assistant for about a year at Morgan Creek. He always treated me with kindness and respect and never questioned why I was there at that point in my career. When it was finally time for me to move on, I gave notice. Knowing I had a wedding to plan, Guy made it very clear that he wanted me to stay and allowed me to plan every finite detail from my desk. There’s been a lot said about Guy’s affinity towards marriage but I do believe he was a romantic and loved the notion, whole-heartedly.
At the risk of seeming unprofessional, I never pressed Guy to share his famous Hollywood stories with me. When he did indulge me, he allowed me to hang on every word, all the while never making me feel silly for asking. Guy knew his experiences were awesome, often historical and worth sharing. Hollywood; another thing I believe he loved, whole-heartedly.
I know I was just a blip in the huge radar of Guy’s life, but he never made me feel that way and I will never forget him. I hope the people close to him know that he was a lovely man and we will miss him, whole-heartedly.
Comment by Jennie Nigrosh — April 5, 2008 @ 8:59 am
Guy’s stories about baseball, Frank Sinatra and MGM made for one the most entertaining lunches I’ve had. He was a sweetheart.
Comment by Anonymous — April 7, 2008 @ 8:57 am
I met Guy through a very dear friend who was the ultimate auteur–what I remember best was his savoirfare and sense of sytle. He had a priceless intuition about ties and luckily the pocket book to afford only the best.
I had been working on a treatment for Frank Price when he made the move to Universal– on the life of Mabel Normand– “Macap Mabel,”
was one of two properties I had been developing. The other,
“The Perfect Specimen,” was attached to Paramount.
I called Guy and told him my frustrations– about the deals and how long it seem to be taking– and knowing I knew nothing about how the industry worked– he offered to help. He agreed to meet with me while in New York– not his next trip east but then and now.
I told him I was living upstate on a farm in a three-hundred year old estate– and that I would make him lunch. That the train from Grand Central to Mt. Kisco got in at 11:45 AM–and I would pick him up at the station– and to dress casual.
I arranged to meet his train and greeted the “Guy” in a dark navy blue pinstripe suit– his light blue tailored shirt and gold cufflinks was a dazzling image– but then I never noticed his shoes.
When we pulled up to the barn– and he got out of my VW Bug– I noticed he was wearing velvet slippers with his initials emblazzoned
on the toes–I said, “Guy, you cant be serious? Your on a farm and there’s cow dung everywhere, didn’t you bring a pair of sneakers?”
He reached inside a brown leather Louis Vutton case, and pulled out another pair of the exact same shoes.
God bless him for being a friend and for caring about the little people, ones like Mabel and Mack Sennet– who set the industry ablaze for just five cents a view.
If I ever get the deal off the ground–I will praise Guy and give eveyone a key chain with this momento– a pair of velvet slippers with his initials. GM
And if he has a chance– maybe he can sign Mabel and Mack and make the deal happen.
My sincerest sympathy to his children and family and may his spirit inspire a restless sometimes tasteless over ambitious generation whose batting average will never ever compare– when it comes to kindness.
Mabel Normand
Comment by MM — April 7, 2008 @ 5:27 pm
I just had a series of unpleasant “Hollywood” meetings regarding a current project, and it made me realize again how special and unique Guy really was and how this town will miss him. Like someone else said, Guy told the truth, his word was his bond and you could count on him to do the right thing. How rare those qualities are becoming. And I know his family is reading this, and I just want to add that another amazing thing about Guy was how well he treated people—and that included those at the bottom as well as the top. In a town full of poseurs, Guy was not a phony or a fraud. He knew who he was, where he came from and he always treated people decently and honestly and fairly.
Comment by writerman — April 8, 2008 @ 11:14 pm
Sad another great from the Old Guard gone…I would hear many stories about Guy from friends of a certain age that were so compelling, most related above and by Nikki. That sense of class is a vanishing commodity. It’s up to us to honor him by keeping things civil here in this most self-oriented of cities.
Comment by Roy Rogers Oldenkamp — April 10, 2008 @ 1:24 pm
I’m just one of the little people. I waited on him routinely at just the place you would expect someone of his old-time Hollywood stature to dine. He never let on his relevancy to Hollywood movie-making, though he was obviously relevant. He’d say that Michelle or Alan would be joining him, and I knew who he was talking about. He’d sit outside and have a glass of chardonnay with ice on the side, and a cigarette (or several). Later he’d order dinner-steak tartare- and would want me to make it for him. Always gracious; always kind; always made me feel relevant, too. Bottoms up; I’ll miss you.
Comment by pinkp — April 14, 2008 @ 10:38 pm
I met Guy when I was about 12. He was slightly younger. He and his family moved into his older brothers home accross the street from my parents home
in Culver City. He introduced me to Baseball and sports in general. We put together a team and played at Rancho park near Dorsey High. It was a little league without parents. The team’s were good and Guy was a stand out. We played against kids that later became pros. Billy Consolo, Sparky Anderson and Billy Latchmann to name a few. Guys parents would take us to the Hollywood Star games. He had a wonderful family.
We were team mates through High School. I graduated a year before he did and went on to college. We all know what he became. I sent Guy a note when his daughter passed. I received a note back telling me how he often thinks about me and the things we did as kids. That ment a lot to me. I’ll never forget
him nor will I forget what he gave to me, my lasting love of Baseball.
Ken Stein
Comment by Ken Stein — April 27, 2008 @ 10:33 am
I was Guy’s personal secretary at CMA from 1970-1972. He was charming, intelligent, somewhat reserved and very well respected. To me, he was the perfect boss. He included me in so much of his life, both personal and private, and adored his two girls, “Blue” and Kathy. He will be missed.
Comment by Valerie Fee — April 27, 2008 @ 10:24 pm
Ace Ventura in NEW YORK CITY STARRING ME!
I wanted to work with him.. sadly it won’t happen now
Was thinking a guy that knows talent like Guy would..
Give me that movie like Morgan Creek gave Jim Carey b4
Hopefuls a plenty I guess I’ll get to do something for Morgan Creek eventually, would of been cool to meet the..
Bad Ass Talent Agent Turned Producer Guy
” The Mack Daddy McElwaine “
Comment by Lebroz Ariel James — May 17, 2008 @ 11:49 pm