So it went; there was always some crisis, and you never knew who was standing on the outskirts of the crowd, watching intently. Both Boris Kaufman and Charlie Maguire felt the tension, but they behaved magnificently; they knew that the rough circumstances within which we were making the film gave it the look it needed. I think Charlie minded the cold and whatever harassment he encountered on the set from the hoodlums less than what he had to take from our producer. Sam would call Charlie’s home, sometimes as late as two in the morning, most of the time from “21” or whatever other “in” place he patronized. Charlie felt that Sam must have had a girl with him, because he was trying to impress someone close by with the authoritative tone of his voice. (Sam’s young ladies were always kids—nineteen, twenty, twenty-one—and easily impressed.) Sam would bawl Charlie out, demanding to know why he’d “let Kazan in scene number eight-four go for nine takes.” And why had Charlie let Kazan print three? This was Charlie’s first big picture, but he was learning fast; he’d say, “Well, if you don’t want him to do it, why don’t you call him and tell him yourself?”