agreement. A signatory company can be as vast as a multinational corporation or as limited as a small pro-union production company. An associate writer amasses units to gain full membership, and today writers must belong to either the WGA East (which uses the acronym WGAE) or the Writers Guild West (which prefers WGAw), depending on geography. The Guild’s stated objectives are voluminous. It contracts minimum rates for specific types of work, determines writers’ screen credits, ensures payment of residuals, provides pensions and healthbenefits for members, engages in national policy debates that concern writers’ interests, and provides continuing education for members and the community. Some writers have seen their induction into the Guild as a sign of having “made it” in the industry. Others have felt membership to be a weighty burden foisted upon them. And still others have paid little attention to what membership means. Then there are those who view membership as a life raft. Barbara Corday, creator of
Cagney & Lacey
, expressed deep gratitude for the benefits afforded to veteran writers: “First of all, having residuals. Lifetime medical insurance as a backup to Medicare, as a secondary insurance. How many people outside of Congress have things like that? It’s just
phenomenal
.” 25
Corralling this disparate group of workers, however, is an arduous task. The Guild brings together thousands of individuals who predominantly perform solitary work. As Hal Kanter, creator of the series
Julia
, noted in the 1970s, “We writers are, collectively, a strange group of creatures and it’s a frequent source of amazement to me that the Guild is such a well-run zoo!” 26 John Furia Jr., writer of
The Singing Nun
and president of the WGAw from 1973 to 1975, laughed as he pointed out, “We are the most individualistic group to band together.” 27 Phyllis White, who worked on writing teams for various television series from the 1950s through the 1980s, noted the paradox of singular writers with unique voices aligning for a collective cause: “It’s a Guild of individuals as no other union is. You’ve got the Teamsters and there are a certain number of Teamsters who do the same job. . . . They do the same hours. They do the same thing. We don’t. . . . Trying to amalgamate this group . . . [of] nearly 5,000 into one union now is horrendous. It’s amazing that it works at all.” 28
The Guild’s daunting task is further complicated by the reality that many writers also hold membership in at least one other trade union. Specifically, the other groups that negotiate with signatory companies include the Directors Guild of America (DGA), which represents directors, assistant directors, unit production managers, and production associates; the Screen Actors Guild–American Federation of Television and Radio Artists (SAG-AFTRA), which represents actors, extras, broadcast journalists, and puppeteers, among others; and the International Alliance of Theatrical Stage Employees (IATSE), which represents a diverse set of industry workers, from electricians to set carpenters, makeup artists, prop masters, cinematographers, editors, and art directors.
Peer organizations, studios, and the press regard the Writers Guild as the
enfant terrible
of the industry. Although writers have not consistently mobilized for social justice or workers’ rights, the Writers Guild has always been the most politicized among its fellow organizations. Many chalk up this reputation to writers’ eccentric personalities. But the reason writers are better equipped to drum up support for an issue is that every Guild member performs the same labor: putting words on paper. The other three organizations service vastly larger constituencies with needs so diverse that a united front proves tricky—especially when it comes time to negotiate with the monolithic Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers (AMPTP).
The AMPTP is a powerful