When people think of Hollywood history, they usually remember the stars, the famous faces, the big names, and the legends who filled fan magazines for years. But sometimes, the most touching stories belong to those whose names never appeared in lights. That was the case for Paul Schreibnick, a young MGM script clerk who died at just twenty-three. His passing left the whole studio in mourning and showed the friendships he had with Joan Crawford, Douglas Fairbanks Jr., John Barrymore, and Franchot Tone.
By Allan R. Ellenberger
MGM script clerk Paul Schrebnick (right) on the set of Rasputin and the Empress (1932) with the film's director, Richard Boleslavsky.
Paul Pinkus Schrebnick was born on January 10, 1909, in West Palm Beach, Florida. Paul distinguished himself from an early age as an exceptional student. Graduating from Palm Beach High School in 1927, he ranked among the top students in his class and earned a reputation for both academic excellence and strong character.
Beyond the classroom, he was active in school life and emerged as a leader in dramatic productions during his final years of high school. Following graduation, he attended the University of Florida before returning home to work for the Central Farmers Trust Company, beginning what seemed like a bright and promising future, only to move to California like many other hopefuls drawn to the movie business at its peak.
He wasn’t a star, director, or producer. He worked as a script boy, one of many young people who kept the studio running. He earned just thirty dollars a week, but his personality made up for it. People who knew him remembered him as quiet, smart, and humble, yet he managed to befriend some of the biggest names at MGM.
Many said he had "a million dollars’ worth of friendships." That was no exaggeration. As a script clerk, Paul spent his days on set, making sure everything stayed consistent from scene to scene. If stars like Greta Garbo, Lionel Barrymore, Ethel Barrymore, Norma Shearer, Clark Gable, or John Gilbert missed a line or repeated an action, Paul was the one who noticed. Even though he had one of the lowest jobs at the studio, he became known for being smart, discreet, and loyal. In a place where many people looked out for themselves, Paul stood out as a genuinely likable person whose honesty attracted even the most famous actors. His friendship with Joan Crawford was especially important.
People who knew Paul said he admired Joan Crawford even before they met. Like many young fans, he was drawn to her beauty and charm. When he was assigned to work on Letty Lynton (1932), one of her biggest films, his admiration became a real friendship. Crawford quickly grew fond of Paul. In a business often seen as fake, she found him to be truly genuine.
One well-known story from that time shows how close Paul was to Hollywood’s inner circle. Douglas Fairbanks Jr. once got so caught up talking with Paul that he forgot he had dinner plans with Crawford. When she found them deep in conversation, she joined them. Paul was so amazed by the company he was in that he barely ate his meal. For someone making thirty dollars a week, it must have felt unreal.
According to Crawford's account, Paul Schrebnick was more than just another studio employee. A property boy who had worked with her "on many pictures," he became one of her closest confidants during a difficult period in her life. Crawford recalled that Paul instinctively understood her unhappiness and offered quiet companionship without demanding explanations. "He realized how unhappy I had been," she wrote.
Although he had endured hardships of his own and lived in California separated from his family, "he rarely mentioned this and insisted that I relieve my heart by talking to him." Crawford remembered him as someone always available when needed, one of those rare people with whom "you can sit quietly for hours and know you are receiving friendly sympathy."
A telling story about Paul centers on his unexpected relationship with John Barrymore. While working on Grand Hotel (1932), Paul grew to dislike Barrymore, thinking he had been rude to Crawford. This feeling lasted for months and continued when they both worked on Rasputin and the Empress (1932). Whenever Barrymore showed up on set, Paul would leave.
Near the end of filming, Paul was unexpectedly asked to join one of Barrymore’s scenes. Near the end of the film, Barrymore needed to drag Rasputin's dead body from the house, but when the dummy could not be found, Paul stepped in and took its place. Barrymore dragged him through several takes, and Paul's body ultimately appears in the completed film.
Afterward, as Paul was picking up his papers, Barrymore walked over and said, “There’s something in your pocket.” Paul checked and found an envelope with money inside.
Paul Schrebnick and Joan Crawford on the set of Today We Live (1933). Within hours of this photograph being taken, the young MGM script clerk would be fatally injured in an automobile accident, with Crawford rushing to his bedside and remaining with him during his final hours.
Even though Barrymore was known to give gifts to the cast and crew at the end of filming, Paul tried to give it back, saying he couldn’t accept a gift from him. When Barrymore asked why, Paul replied honestly, “It’s very simple. I don’t like you.” Instead of being upset, Barrymore laughed. “You may not like me, my boy, but I like you,” he said. “You’re honest. You’re frank. Two unusual traits. Come to dinner with me soon and we’ll thrash this out. Perhaps I can change your mind.” This story shows a side of Paul that many people noticed. His generosity and emotional intelligence impressed even the toughest personalities. Sadly, his friendship with Barrymore never had the chance to grow.
Paul's relationship with Crawford took a tragic turn shortly after a Christmas gathering Paul had helped organize on the set of Today We Live (1933). When the evening ended, the two sat together, exhausted, and jokingly called it "a swell party." Crawford returned home to prepare for the holidays. It was the last time they spoke.
The intersection of Lincoln Boulevard and Broadway in Santa Monica as it appears today. It was here on Christmas morning 1932, that 23-year-old Paul Schrebnick suffered fatal injuries when the automobile he was a passenger in collided with another car.
In the early morning hours, Paul was riding with his friend, 25-year-old Howard Wilson, who was reportedly driving at high speed through Santa Monica. At about 4 a.m., as they approached the intersection of Lincoln Boulevard and Broadway, Wilson failed to stop for a red light and crashed into another automobile driven by Tommy Thompson, a friend of actor Franchot Tone. The impact hurled Paul from the vehicle onto the pavement, where he suffered a devastating basal skull fracture. Wilson escaped with minor injuries. Rushed to the hospital, Paul's condition was critical. Physicians determined that emergency brain surgery was his only hope for survival.
According to hospital staff, Paul was calling Joan’s name in delirium. A physician called the actress at home to inform her about Paul's condition. Crawford immediately rushed to the hospital with her personal doctor, Dr. C. W. Rand, a Los Angeles brain specialist. Doctors told her his only chance of survival was an emergency skull operation. Because no relatives were nearby, they needed someone to authorize the procedure. Faced with an impossible decision, Crawford hesitated but recognized that without surgery he would almost certainly die. "It was by mutual consent that doctors and I agreed to do it," she later wrote.
At the hospital, Crawford stayed by Paul's side. She recalled him holding her hand and looking at her with trust and comfort. As attendants shaved his curly black hair for surgery, Crawford could not hold back tears. She watched as he was wheeled toward the operating room, waving to her just before the doors closed. Waiting outside, the full horror of the situation overwhelmed her.
She remembered being physically ill from the strain when actor Franchot Tone unexpectedly appeared behind her. "Oh, Miss Crawford, I'm so sorry—may I help?" he asked. Crawford begged him not to let anyone see her in that condition, and Tone quietly stayed by her side.
Tone was there because his friend Tommy Thompson, whose car collided with Paul's, was also being treated. While Thompson's injuries proved less severe, Paul's condition remained critical. Crawford and Tone spent the night together in anxious vigil, "waiting, praying, hoping." Thompson recovered from his injuries, but Paul did not.
Paul Pinkus Schrebnick died on December 26, 1932. He was twenty-three years old. The reaction at MGM was extraordinary. Studio employees mourned him openly. Newspaper stories described the death of a young man whose position was humble, but whose friendships reached into every corner of the industry.
Joan Crawford was devastated. When she returned home after the funeral, she found an unfinished Christmas gift waiting for her. Richard Boleslavsky, director of Rasputin and the Empress, had given Paul signed copies of his books Way of the Lancer and Lances Down. Since Paul did not have money to buy a gift for Crawford, he got permission from the director to give her the books. They arrived only after his death.
Another heartbreak followed. While looking through a script that had belonged to Paul, Crawford found that he had filled its pages with photographs of her collected over time. Seeing this reportedly sent her rushing to her dressing room in tears. Even after his death, reminders continued to appear. During a lottery for the studio's sick-benefit fund, the first prize was tickets to the Rose Bowl game. The winning ticket belonged to Paul. The irony was almost too much to bear.
Following a coroner's inquest attended by John Barrymore, authorities concluded that Howard Wilson was responsible for the accident that claimed Paul's life. Whether Wilson was ever prosecuted or served time for the offense remains unknown.
Before his body was returned to Florida, many of MGM's most recognizable stars had paid their respects, viewing Paul one last time. Clothed in a suit that had been a Christmas gift from John Barrymore, he began his final journey home. Joan Crawford, actress Louise Closser Hale, and director Howard Hawks were among those who sent floral tributes to the Florida funeral home. Far from the glamour of Hollywood, Paul was laid to rest at Old Jewish Center Cemetery in Jacksonville, Florida. His grave remains there today, largely overlooked and seldom visited. Yet for a brief and extraordinary moment in 1932, the tragic death of a young studio employee touched the lives of some of the motion picture industry's most celebrated figures, leaving him with a small but intriguing place in Hollywood history.
What makes Paul's story so moving is that he achieved none of the things Hollywood usually celebrates. He never became rich.
The grave of Paul Pinkus Schrebnick at Old Jewish Center Cemetery in Jacksonville, Florida, where he rests alongside his parents and brother. This monument was erected a year later in a special ceremony.
He never became famous. He never starred in a movie. Yet when he died, Joan Crawford wept, Franchot Tone kept vigil beside his hospital bed, John Barrymore remembered his honesty, and the whole studio mourned his loss. In a town built on illusion, Paul Pinkus Schreibnick seems to be remembered for something much rarer: kindness. Nearly a century later, that may be the most remarkable legacy of all.
Join me tomorrow at The Hollywoodland Revue for the remarkable story of Dr. William Wesley Hitchcock, a pioneering Los Angeles physician whose life and legacy have long been overshadowed by a far more famous Hitchcock, yet whose contributions helped shape early Southern California.
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