PICKING UP A TOWN – A TEAM STORY Dad once was discussing the value of a film’s construction coordinator. For my layman readers, the title Construction Coordinator has a history all its own. We didn’t always have the title Construction Coordinator. We had construction foremen in charge of the actual construction of the set on stage and in the mill. All the other departments such as paint and staff and grips (as they interfaced with the backings and platforms). Were coordinated by the art director. I will refer to my good friend Gary Martin for exact dates but I was told it was his father Ivan Martin who was in charge of operations at Twentieth Century Fox who decided there was
simply too much falling through the cracks and a better management system was needed; as the art director was swamped with many to many responsibilities. To solve this I was told Ivan created the position of Construction Coordinator at Fox and a gentleman, Don Nobles was one of the first to hold that position. Don told me that he felt a bit uncomfortable donning a coat and tie but his role was to interface with all the construction related department heads and with the art directors to insure that the set construction and related departments went ahead smoothly. So, I look forward to this story provoking a lot of comment from the industry pundits so that I can get my facts straight regarding the evolution of construction foreman into construction coordinator. All I know for sure is that while the old-world foreman was limited to the prop-construction department the coordinator did and does have the largess to work with a variety of department heads including the art department, grips, mechanical effects, set dressing, paint and scenic to see that all is running smoothly. Being that as it may, this particular story took place in the 1940’s at Universal studios when my father was art director on a film we may never know the title of. Nonetheless the project called for a
huge miniature of a town and countryside some 40 feet square so that the camera crane could swing over the miniature town simulating a WWII aircraft bombing. The miniature had been built on a platform about 4� above the stage floor in sections and took weeks to cover it with the necessary seamless ground cover, hills and valleys (in plaster) and miniature buildings all linked together and wired ready to explode on cue. Dad said he was quite proud of the job the crew did, when he got a phone call to get down to the stage because the supervising art director, (his boss) the cinematographer, director and producer were reviewing the set. Upon his arrival, he was confronted with a group of shaking heads, and they weren’t shaking vertically they were shaking horizontally. The producer announced that the set -miniature was unshootable. My father was aghast as he had reviewed the plans and models with everyone and all were in agreement; but for some reason the cameraman held firmly that to complete the shot correctly he needed the entire village to be raised another 4 feet so that it was eight feet off the stage floor and at a more suitable elevation for the crane shot he had planned. My father argued it could be done otherwise, but to no avail and the group left my father standing on the stage with the impossible task of unwiring all those explosions, sawing the set in pieces, raising the pieces to the proper height, and putting it
all back together in a timely and cost efficient manner. All the studio was sure to hear about how the young art director had messed up and probably would be fired. There was little to be done as it was lunch time, so Dad wandered off to the cafeteria to take his lunch and ponder his fate and the fate of the miniature. About that time an old time construction foreman came up to the table and asked if he could sit with dad, as the cafeteria was crowded. He commented jokingly, “say son you don’t look so good, is the food that bad”. No, my father replied and then proceeded to unfold the gruesome details of what had happened. At the end of the story the old man said, “well what say we go look at that miniature of yours and kick the tires on the problem”. After a short walk to the stage the foreman said, “look there may be a solution here. You come back say about 4 pm with your prop makers (carpenters) and enough materials to build a second platform about the size of the first. At the time, Dad was nonplussed as no explanations were given, but he was in no position to argue and so he was on time at 6pm with his crew. Simultaneously, several huge trucks pulled up to the stage. The first was loaded with telephone poles and the second was one of the largest cranes dad had seen. As if it was normal business the truck crew removed the telephone poles and slid them one by
one under the set and then cross lashed them to outer poles that ran perpendicular to the poles under the set. After this a steel chain rig was attached to the outer poles and the huge crane went to work raising the set slightly more than was required about ten feet off the stage floor. Immediately the construction crew got the idea and they were under the set in a flash building a second 4’ tall support platform. When complete the crane gently lowered the huge miniature down to settle on its new platform, slid the poles out and they were done. Once complete, it was now as needed, eight feet off the stage floor. And I might add the sun was coming up. Dad said he noticed as the trucks pulled off that the sign on the back of the truck read Williams Brother’s House Moving Company. Dad went back to his office for a quick nap but the minute the clock stuck nine he called the producers office and told them that they needed to meet again on the stage to look at the set for further discussion. When they arrived, they were mouth open aghast that the entire miniature now stood, as they had requested eight feet off the floor. Dad was smiling the cameraman was laughing, the director was shaking his head and the producer was furious. The producer immediately grabbed dad by the arm and took him off to a corner of the stage for a dressing down. Said dressing down went something like this.
“You D*mn l fool, didn’t you know I needed another two weeks to polish and work on the script. That set may be ready to shoot but I’m not. And so the set sat there for two weeks ready to be shot but commissioned by a producer and director who weren’t ready to shoot. Dad always had great respect for his construction people after that; as they had demonstrated that on occasion brain power could outsmart producing power and as the story ran through the studio gossip mill, like fire; the producer hid out in his office working on his script and dad not only got a lot of pats on the back but a small raise to boot. P.S. I am dedicating this story to Ivan Martin a very dear friend of both my father and myself. Gary, his son, began his career in 1961 at 20th Century Fox and joined Columbia Pictures in 1981 as a Production Manager. In 1988, he was named Columbia Pictures' President of Production Administration, overseeing all aspects of physical and post production on Columbia's slate of films. Martin was additionally named President of Sony Pictures Studios Operations in 2003, assuming responsibility for the day to day operations of the entire studio lot and post production facilities, employing over 260 people.
Commenting on the announcement, Pascal said, "Gary is Sony Pictures and our studio operations. His leadership, grace, and skill are unparalleled in our business. There is no one who comes close. We are fortunate that Gary spent the better part of his 51 years here with us. He's not just our colleague, he is our great friend and we're going to miss seeing him every day. In his honor, we are dedicating our most storied sound stage – Stage 15."