"Yes, your Honor."
"Are you ready to proceed?"
"Yes, your Honor."
"Then let's proceed."
"I would like Mr. Constantine to take the stand, please," Brackman said.
Arthur rose and walked toward the witness chair. He was having difficulty breathing, and he was certain he would stumble and fall before he reached the front of the courtroom. The clerk held out the Bible. Arthur put his left hand on it, and then raised his right hand.
"Arthur Nelson Constantine, you do solemnly swear that the testimony you shall give to the Court in this issue shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"
"I do," Arthur said.
The clerk nodded briefly and then moved to a small table adjacent to and below the judge's bench. He put the Bible on one corner of the table and then moved his stenotab into place, fingers poised over the keys. Arthur climbed the two steps to the witness chair, glanced up briefly at the judge, whose swivel chair was parallel to his and a step higher, and then looked away. Sidney Brackman walked slowly toward Arthur, smiled encouragingly, and then said, "Mr. Constantine, what do you do for a living?"
"I'm a writer," Arthur answered. His voice was too low, he knew he could not be heard. "A writer," he repeated more loudly.
"Do you write under your own name?"
"Yes, sir. Yes."
"How long have you been employed as a writer?"
"Since 1946?"
"Can you tell us what works you've written, Mr. Constantine?"
"Since 1946?"
"Yes, since 1946," Brackman said.
"Yes, well…" He hesitated. For a moment, he had forgotten the question. He looked hopefully at Brackman who seemed completely unaware of his discomfort. They had been talking about 1946, hadn't they? Should he ask what the question was, something about, oh yes, "Yes," he said, "the first thing I wrote after my release from the United States Army was a play called Catchpole."
"Mr. Constantine, are you familiar with this manuscript?"
"Yes, I'm familiar with it," he said, scarcely looking at it.
"Is this your name on the title page of the manuscript?"
"It is."
"Are you the sole author of this manuscript?"
"I am."
"Is this the play titled Catchpole which you wrote after your release from the United States Army in 1946?"
"Yes," he said, and wondered if he were supposed to say anything more about it at this point.
"I offer the manuscript in evidence," Brackman said, and handed it to the clerk.
"No objection," Willow said.
"No objection," Genitori repeated.
"I also offer in evidence the copyright registration certificate of the play."
Willow rose from his chair behind the defense table. "Your Honor," he said, "before trial, we conceded that the play was registered with the Copyright Office and a certificate granted in August of 1947. In fact, we conceded that it wouldn't be necessary to do anything more than offer the manuscript in evidence."
"Mr. Genitori, do you so concede for API?" McIntyre asked.
"I do."
Brackman nodded and approached the witness chair again. "Mr. Constantine," he said, "you have testified that you've been a writer since 1946. What else have you written besides this play?"
"Well," Arthur said, "I've been involved mostly with motion pictures and television."
"What films or television plays have you written?"
"Do you want me to go all the way back?"
"Please."
"Well, in 1948 I worked for Columbia under contract — Columbia Pictures. I wrote two films for them. Do you want the titles?"
"Please."
He was beginning to feel a bit more at ease. This wasn't going too badly after all. They were simply restating for the judge all the points they had gone over time and again in Brackman's office. He found himself relaxing. He crossed his legs and glanced at the judge, and then turned to Brackman and said, "The first was an adaptation of a Collier's story, a Western. I don't remember the title of the original story, but the movie was called Brother to the Sun, and was a very successful film. I then worked on an adaptation — or really a translation, I suppose you might say — of King Lear. I worked for several months with another writer on this, trying to get it into suitable form for the screen, and then the project was abandoned." He felt more and more relaxed. He looked at the judge once again, tempted to smile but restraining the urge, and then said, conversationally, "Olivier had already done Hamlet, you see, and I think Orson Welles was getting ready to release his Macbeth, and the feeling was that the trend had already peaked. Besides, it was proving very difficult to get a good screenplay from something as complex as Lear."
"Now this film Brother to the Sun for which you wrote the screenplay…"
"Yes," he said.
"… you mentioned that it was a very successful film. Just what does that mean?"
"It grossed nine million dollars."
"I see. Go on, Mr. Constantine. What did you do after you worked on King Lear?"
"I left Columbia early in 1949, and did several films for Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. The first of these was—"
"Excuse me," Willow said, rising. "Your Honor, I hesitate to interrupt the witness's testimony, but it seems to me that his career subsequent to the writing of Catchpole is not relevant at this point."
"I'd like to see where counsel is heading," McIntyre answered. "I hope this won't go on forever, though, Mr. Brackman."
"No, your Honor, it won't. As a matter of fact, Mr. Constantine, in order to save time, perhaps you could simply tell us how long you were employed by Metro as a writer?"
"From March of 1949 to February of 1952."
"For three years, is that correct?"
"Yes, almost three years to the day."
"And how many films did you write for them during that period of employment?"
"Eight films. A total of eight films."
"And you left Metro in February of 1952, is that correct?"
"Yes, sir."
"What did you do then?"
"In March of 1952, I was employed by API under contract to write and direct four films for them."
"By API, are you referring to one of the defendants in this action, Artists-Producers-International, also referred to as Kessler, Inc.?"
"I am."
"And you have testified that in 1952 you were hired to write and direct four motion pictures for API, other wise known as Kessler, Inc.?"
"I was. I did so testify."
Genitori rose suddenly and said, "Your Honor, may the record show that the title of the defendant, Kessler, Inc., was changed by court order to Artists-Producers-International in January of this year?"
"Let the record show it."
Brackman seemed annoyed by the interruption. He looked at Arthur sympathetically, cleared his throat, and asked, "Did you, in fact, write and direct those four films for API?"
"I worked on one of them which was later produced and directed by someone else," Arthur said.
"What was the title of that film?"
"Area Seven."
"And you say it was produced?"
"Yes, sir."
"When was it shown?"
"Released, do you mean?"
"Yes, released."
"In May of 1953. It was nominated for an Academy Award that year."
"Did it receive the Academy Award?"
"No, sir. From Here to Eternity did."
"Your Honor," Willow said, "I must repeat my objection to the plaintiff's going*into what happened after the writing of Catchpole."