By Cass Warner Sperling, Filmmaker, The Brothers Warner, an American Masters presentation from Thirteen/WNET New York
What do memories hold, and why my fascination with THE BROTHERS WARNER? To the world, Harry Warner was the head of an important motion picture studio but to me he was “Grandpa”—the benevolent patriarch of our family.
When I was young, at the end of the windy road, and after what seemed like hours of sisterly squabbles and some carsickness, there was the serenity of grandpa Harry’s California ranch waiting for us. Pepper trees lined the longest driveway leading up the hill to where ol’ Prince, the St. Bernard, greeted us with his massive clumsy, furry body and wet kisses.
I had a favorite ritual, which I always made sure I had time to do. After successfully stuffing myself with the usual brunch goodies of lox and bagels, potato pancakes with apple sauce, pickled herring in sour cream and onions, fresh fruit salad, and, of course, the desserts—poppyseed cake, assorted breakfast rolls, beautifully molded jello, and frosted lemon cake, and getting sufficiently bored with the adult conversation, I’d excuse myself and go and mount my favorite deer.
She rested on her haunches, legs tucked under her starring out at the racetrack, barn and gentleman farm below. So what if she was made of metal? That only meant that she would always be in the same place waiting for me. Once I had taken in the panorama and opened all my senses to the familiar smells of sage, damp straw from the morning dew, and dust, I’d manifest the same gaze that my friend the deer had. I truly felt immortal, definitely privileged, and without borders or boundaries.
By the time I had indulged in this form of personal dessert, my food had digested so that I could get permission to swim. The pool overlooked the expanse of the land below, as it bordered on the edge of a knoll that the ranch house sat on. By the time I climbed out, the skin on my hands were especially white and shriveled. I’d pretend to be an old lady monster and try and scare my little brother.
The mention of going to the stables with Grandpa to go riding assisted greatly in getting us out of the pool. Grandpa’s pride came shining through as he walked us down the hill pointing things out as he went, and giving us a tour of the sleek race horses in their immaculate stalls.
I’ll never forget how honored I felt when Grandpa told me he had named a colt after me, and that she was bred to be a prize race horse. She was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. Putting his arm around me as we both admired her, he told me that he KNEW she was going to be a winner. That moment is as vivid as if it happened yesterday, and is a constant reminder of his belief in me.
His love and reverence for nature and his land became mystical as he proudly showed us what he was growing in his vegetable gardens, how beautiful his prize laying hens were, how the seasons caused the fruit trees to be different during the year, and the comings and goings of the birth and death of his animals. Sharing this mind-set of his was part of the legacy he wanted us to remember. His certain, quiet dignity and knowing that the ranch represented so many life lessons that he could demonstrate was an obvious important pleasure for him, and something I get to carry forward.
It’s memories like this that inspired my dedication to telling my family’s story. The Brothers Warner, an AMERICAN MASTERS presentation, airs Thursday, September 25th. Check local listings at pbs.org/americanmasters.
See clips from The Brothers Warner online.
