Editor’s Note: The Association of Independent Creative Editors (AICE) brought back its Hall of Fame induction ceremony this month after a yearlong hiatus, with retired editor Jacques Dury becoming the latest honoree (SHOOT, 11/15, p. 1). Here, a past inductee, editor Edna Paul, reflects on the Hall of Fame lifetime achievement honor.
Destiny, fortune, kismet—call it what you like. It was very much alive when at the age of five I saw my first motion picture. My fate was sealed. Not only did I love the movies, I also wanted to know, "How’d they do that, Daddy?"
Before very long I was an avid fan, scrapbook and all. I was madly in love with Robert Taylor and Clark Gable. I wanted to be Myrna Loy, Mary Astor, Jean Harlow or Norma Shearer, who got to speak Shakespeare’s words. I had never heard them spoken aloud before. I was also entirely devoted to Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire—their movies, the music they sang and danced to. They wore the classiest clothes I’d ever seen!
I used to say I learned to read by reading film credits, and it may be partially true. I had figured out what some of the jobs were and I knew the terms. Cinematographer, director, sound recorder, set designer—I loved the sets Rogers and Astaire always had. They stayed in hotels with huge rooms, all white—white ceilings, white walls, white floors, rugs, furniture, telephone and even a white piano. I was (and still am) convinced that that’s what heaven must be like. Most of these hotel rooms were in New York City, and that’s where I wanted to be.
When I finally got to New York, it lived up to all my expectations and then some. There were little art houses all along Broadway showing reruns. After three months, I landed a job at the NBC Film Library located at "30 Rock." The library cataloged all the film that had been used in shows and in the news. Producers and directors would come looking for footage they could use, which sold by the foot. I soon learned how to look up what was needed, and how to handle the negatives and order prints. I loved it.
I got many job offers and finally took one doing film research and assistant editing. I got to work on a new 15-minute series called The Stamp Show. I had to find live footage on anything the writers thought up. Everything in the world was on stamps. I spent part of the day on research and the rest of the day assisting the editor—the best part of the job. The editor was an Austrian who had fled from Hitler, and he was terrific. He showed me how to do everything and even asked for my opinion on his cut! He had worked in the German Film Industry, and he was totally professional. A tyrant, ("Etna Paul from St. Louis, Missouri! Get me my marker, scissors, glove, coffee, footage you have of the lyre bird and the duck-billed platypus!") but a great teacher, it was from him that I learned the importance of sharing your knowledge, showing newcomers all you know, and encouraging them. It was this training that led me to have so many great assistants.
Despite being told hundreds of times that "women are not allowed in the editing rooms," I got jobs with production companies doing all kinds of work. And finally, with the help of some of my former assistants, I started Edna & Friends, which lasted 10 years. We did commercials, sales films, documentaries, TV shows and finally feature films, all of which were great experiences and lots of fun. Some of our work went on to be cult favorites and big successes, and in some cases, started wonderful careers. What great friends I made and still adore. Some of my assistants have gone on to own big film companies, and to be producers and directors—I’m proud of them!
I went from optical sound tracks to magnetic tape and sound track, from Moviolas to flat beds to video editing, and then in 1995 received the AICE Award! What a wonderful journey.
But sometimes I still hear the sound of the splices going through the Moviola—"the rhythm of the cut." Do they hear that at the Avid?
