For anyone who loves my story Adventures in Warner-Sitting, here's a prequel for you! This story is set in August of 1933 and is my take on what really happened to get the Warners locked up under house arrest in the water tower. For some context, this fleshes out the story Yakko tells Nori in Chapter 16 of Adventures in Warner-Sitting and gives us a look not only into old Hollywood, but the Warners' unbreakable bond and how strongly it was tested.

This tale is dedicated to Mr. Yaksalot and Jenny, my two most faithful readers and reviewers. Y'all make my day with your wonderful words, and this one is for you! Thank you!

I've been cheated, been mistreated

When will I be loved?

I've been put down, I've been pushed 'round

When will I be loved?

· Linda Ronstadt, "When Will I Be Loved"

August 1933

Whoever said it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all was a schnook.

Not for the first time, Yakko Warner wished he was old enough to drink as he threw back his fifth sarsaparilla. Not that he could drink if he was able, since Prohibition was still in effect. But he digressed. He just wanted something, anything, to ease the pain piercing his heart. Bad enough he and his sibs weren't getting a lick of respect from the Warner Bros. brass, namely one Thaddeus J. Plotz; now Yakko's girlfriend had given him the old heave-ho. And for a guy who normally couldn't shut his trap, the last thing he wanted to do was talk. Except, of course, to order more soda. "Another one, Miles. Please," he said, holding up his empty glass.

Miles, who tended the dry bar at the studio commissary, shot him a wry grin. "You've had five already, Yakko. Any more and I'll have to cut you off."

"Hit me anyway. Put it on my tab."

"No, put it on mine. This one's on me, Miles."

Yakko turned at the sound of the female voice – brassy, yet comforting. The young woman who'd just taken the stool beside his was a beauty, from her blonde hair and voluptuous curves to the huge blue eyes that were now her trademark. He knew better than to try any of his usual tricks with her, though. He'd done it once and she'd given him a quick quip back, perfectly timed and sharp as a razor blade. Yakko had laughed and quickly became friends with her. Anyone who could make him laugh had his respect. "Hey, Bette."

"Hey yourself." Bette Davis gave him a grin and studied his sour expression. "All right, what's eating you? You've got a longer face than Gallant Fox."

Yakko looked back up at her. "Nothin'. I'm just jim-dandy," he said, the words coming out with more bite than he intended.

Bette wasn't even fazed. "Bull. You and I are actors, which more or less makes us professional liars."

"Yeah, so?"

"So, just because we do it for our living doesn't mean we have to do it in real life. You should know by now, Yakko, that I have no patience for a real-life liar."

"Boy, there's the understatement of '33," Yakko snickered. Bette was the creature Hollywood despised – an outspoken woman with an iron will and a very low tolerance for baloney. The studio execs hated it; Yakko loved it. Their industry needed more women like Bette. "You really want the ugly truth?"

Bette took out a silver cigarette case and plucked a Lucky Strike out of it. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't." She lit up and blew a plume of smoke to the ceiling. "Start yakking, Yakko."

Yakko took a gulp of sarsaparilla and steeled himself. "Okay. You know I've been goin' out with Lillian Marlowe, right?"

"Real name Clara Hargensen? The little chippy who soaks her head in peroxide and thinks the sun doesn't rise until she falls out of bed?"

"One and the same."

"She gave you a Dear John, didn't she?"

Yakko's jaw dropped. "How'd you know?"

"Why else would you look like a whipped puppy? Miles, get over here," Bette called for the bartender. "Two cherry Cokes, extra grenadine in his."

"Bette, I don't need another soda. I'll sound like my little brother if I drink too much."

"You've had six sarsaparillas; one cherry Coke won't kill you." Once Miles finished concocting the sodas and tossed a maraschino cherry into each glass, Bette took one and slid the other to Yakko. "I'll be glad when Prohibition's over. I haven't had a gin and tonic since…"

"Your last visit to a rot-gut room?" Yakko teased.

"Shut up. Cheers, kid." Bette clinked glasses with him and sipped her Coke. "So, what made Little Miss Priss drop you like a hot potato?"

"Three M's: muscles, manhood, and money. She met up with me today and told me she just couldn't see me anymore. Said she needed more out of life than a toon who lives in a water tower and hasn't found work in months."

"That is not your fault. Thaddeus Plotz wouldn't know a good script if it paraded through his office stark naked." Bette flicked ash into the nearby ashtray and took another drag off her cigarette. "Which is precisely why the little toad terminated your contracts. You had rotten material to work with, and it doesn't help that he never knew what to do with you and your siblings. I speak from experience. He's not known what to do with me from Day One." She blew out a furious stream of smoke. "If he doesn't stop throwing mediocre work my way, I've half a mind to take him to court over it."

"Yeah, but Bette, you've got the clout and the cash to take him on. Our bank account has all the fool's gold in California and our only clout is with our mallets."

"Still, as I said, that is not your fault."

"Tell that to Lilly. I tried tellin' her we didn't need money to be happy, and I just wanted to make her laugh for the rest of her life. She said that was the first thing I ever said to make her laugh, and then told me the joke was on me. She took off her glove and flashed this rock from Cartier in my face." Yakko swallowed half the cherry Coke in the glass and took a shuddering breath. "She'd been cheating on me for months, with some B-list blond guy who thinks he's the next Errol Flynn. Said he's strong and handsome and can make her a star once he's one himself. And if he can give her that, why would she even dream of being with a skinny, weird-looking toon with no job, no money, and no future?"

Bette's face was incredulous. "She said that to your face?" When Yakko nodded, she spit out an expletive that rhymed with itch. "She'd better pray I don't run into her. I'll rearrange every tooth in her head."

"You'll have to fight my sister for that. Dot's ready to kill her." Yakko took another slug of his Coke and furiously swiped at the tears in his eyes. "I loved her. I would've given my ink for her, and she threw it in my face, and for what? A pretty face and a fat wallet."

Bette gazed at him, her baby blues sympathetic. "The Hollywood disease. Forget polio; that's the worst disease you can catch, because it makes you shallow. Hypocritical, too; more's the pity." She transferred her cigarette to her left hand and put her right on Yakko's shoulder. "I'm sorry you had to go through this, kid. No one deserves it."

Yakko covered Bette's hand with his own and squeezed. "Thanks. Jeez, I'm sorry," he muttered, wiping away a stray tear.

"Don't apologize. It's not healthy to hold your emotions in; take it from someone who knows. Go home, have a good cry, love on those darling siblings of yours, and remind yourself that you're strong. The pain won't go away overnight, but it'll get better. And one day, you'll be glad you dodged a bullet with her. You might meet someone who loves you for you."

"Yeah? When'll that be?"

"Darling, if I knew that, I'd put Louella Parsons out of a job." Bette chuckled and drank from her Coke. "So, are you going to go home and take my advice after this, or are you going to keep striving for the world's loudest belch?"

Yakko laughed in spite of himself. "Try as I might, I'll never break Wakko's record. I'll take your advice, but my sibs and I have some unfinished business first. We've got an appointment with old man Thad at three o'clock about loaning us out to MGM."

Bette raised an eyebrow. "You want to work at Metro? Why?"

"We heard they're thinkin' about hiring toons to work on a few of their pictures, so we figured there's no harm in asking. Heck, Plotz might say yes just to get us out of his hair for a while."

"Have at it, but leave your dental records with me so I can identify your bodies. L.B. Mayer has been known to work his actors to death, and I'm sure toons are no exception."

Yakko shot her a cynical look. "You sure know how to lift a guy's spirits, y'know?"

"At least you know I'll never lie to you." Bette crushed out her cigarette, rose from her stool, and held out her arms. "Give me a hug, kid."

"Boy, it must be snowin' out there. You never hug anyone," Yakko joked as he stood on the stool to embrace his friend.

"Yes, I do. I just don't like public displays of affection. For you, however, I'll make an exception." Bette grinned and gave him a friendly cuff on the chin, then set him down on the floor. "Break a leg, Yakko. Tell Wakko and Dot I said the same."

"Will do." Yakko downed the last of his cherry Coke and ventured out of the commissary. The studio was bustling, despite the effects of the Depression. Films were still underway, including The Big Shakedown, Bette's new picture to be released early next year. The real money and the real fun, however, was over at the little white building that churned out the now-famous WB cartoons – Termite Terrace, which sat in the shadow of the studio water tower (alias home to Yakko and his sibs). The Terrace had cleaned out their staff recently – Hugh Harman and Rudolf Ising were out and some new animators had come aboard, three of whom Yakko thought had a good chance to shake up the animation department. Frank Tashlin, Chuck Jones, and Isadore Freleng, whom everyone liked to call "Friz," had some real promise and some really nutty ideas. Where were they when we were making cartoons? Oh well, here's hoping they do well with the Looney Tunes.

Lickety-split, Yakko shinnied up the water tower ladder and entered their home, only to be greeted by a loud splash from down the hall. A scream of fury followed, and then: "WAKKO! PUT THE SEAT DOWN!"

"Look before you sit!" came the reply.

Yakko shook his head. He loved his siblings with all his heart, but sometimes it was wild being both brother and dad to them. "I don't think she wants to sit or get off the pot, Wak," he called.

A gasp of delight came from the hallway. "Yakko's home!" The next thing Yakko knew, he was hit full-force by a blur of black and blue and a pair of furry arms was hugging him tight. "Hi, big brother," Wakko said happily, cuddling closer.

Yakko squeezed him back. Sometimes he thought the three of them had been dealt the fuzzy end of the lollipop when it came to life, but he thanked God every single day for one very precious gift: the love he shared with Wakko and Dot. Their bond was unbreakable, the one thing for sure he knew they'd never lose. "Heya, Wak," he said, reaching under Wakko's red ball cap to ruffle his fur. "Boy, this must be my day for hugs."

"It ain't over yet." Dot skipped into the room and likewise hugged her eldest brother. "How are you holding up?"

Yakko gave her a sad smile. His sibs had naturally been the first ones he'd told about Lilly dumping him, so they knew he was in a blue funk. Heck, Dot had been ready to throw their toon ethics to the wind and go Picasso on Lilly's face, but Yakko told her it wasn't worth it. They didn't need more trouble. "Meh. I'm feelin' a little better after talkin' to Bette, though."

Dot grinned. She admired Bette greatly and never missed one of her pictures. "I knew she'd pick you up. How's she doing?"

"Good. She sends her love to you two. She's also thinkin' about taking Mr. Plotz to court if he doesn't start sendin' her decent scripts."

"I hope she takes him to the cleaners," Dot said with relish. "Lord knows she deserves decent writing; we sure as heck never got it. That contract system doesn't let anyone shine, human or toon."

"I know, but we gotta put up with it for a while longer if we hope to get work at Metro. And if we do, we gotta play nice. Bette told me the chief of MGM ain't exactly Santa Claus."

Dot snorted. "Par for the course. Every studio chief in this town's a jerk. Darryl Zanuck's awful and Mr. Plotz goes without saying."

"True, but he wants us off this lot just as bad as we do. If we go to this meeting today, play our cards right, and turn on the charm, we'll be makin' pictures at MGM by next week. We can do it. We know how to schmooze."

"One problem, Yakko. We gotta get past the Gorgon first," said Dot, a dark look in her eyes.

Yakko closed his eyes. Jeez, how could he have forgotten? The Gorgon was Mr. Plotz's secretary, Miss Imogene Eckhart – or, as the Warners called her, Miss Ickheart. She was a Hollywood nightmare, an entitled brat who thought she was the next Joan Crawford but had neither the talent nor the looks to be an actress. Luckily for her, she had a steady job as Mr. Plotz's gal Friday. Unluckily for everyone who dared set foot in the chief's office, she vented her spite on them. She may not have been an A-lister, but she had double the attitude of one. That reason among many was why no director with a brain would hire her. "Come here, sibs," he said, drawing his brother and sister close. "Look, I know Miss Ickheart ain't Emily Post –"

"She scares me," Wakko cut in with a shudder. "She looks like a monster."

"But we gotta be brave. If she says anything, ignore her. She wants to poke at you so you'll react. Don't give her what she wants. Got me?"

"I gotcha," Dot confirmed.

Wakko gave him a smile. "Me too. I'll be brave."

"Good." Yakko hugged them both. "I love you guys."

"We love you, too," Wakko and Dot said together.

Yakko gave them one more squeeze and released them. "Okay, enough schmaltz. We got an appointment to get to."

The second they left the water tower, they were nearly knocked flat by a blast of heat. Summer afternoons in Burbank were brutal – so hot that Satan wouldn't leave hell for California. Needless to say, by the time the Warners reached the administration building, they were dripping with sweat and thirstier than a goldfish in the Mojave Desert.

"Good grief," Dot groaned, wringing sweat out of first her skirt, then her tail. "Is anyone frying eggs on the sidewalk?"

Wakko shook himself like a wet dog, spraying perspiration everywhere. "I'm thirsty!"

"I am too, but let's get up to Mr. Plotz's office and then get some water. There's a cooler down the hall," Yakko said, steering his sibs to the elevators. Once they reached the chairman's office, he reminded them quietly to be brave and pushed the door open.

Just their luck, Miss Ickheart was sitting behind her desk, stiff as a poker in her chair, hammering out letters on the typewriter so hard it was a wonder the keys didn't go springing across the room. They said beauty was in the eye of the beholder, but in Yakko's opinion, the beholder had to be blind as a bat. Miss Ickheart's black hair was pulled into a severe knot at the back of her head, the polar opposite of the pretty Marcel waves that had been the fashion for years. Her eyes were like blue ice, her skin sallow, and her face seemed permanently drawn up like she'd sucked on a lemon. Yakko's private theory was that her personality, which was as warm and comforting as a hailstorm, was what really made her ugly.

When she looked up and addressed them, he was inclined to think he was right. "Oh, marvelous. Who let you three out of the water tower?" she barked.

Yakko stared at her evenly. Temper, temper. "It's our home. We come and go," he said politely, stopping himself from spitting out as we please. "We have an appointment with Mr. Plotz."

The frown mark between Miss Ickheart's eyes deepened as she checked her appointment book. "What for? The last I heard, your contracts were terminated. You three made such awful cartoons, no one wants you anymore."

Noneya bleepin' business, Yakko wanted to say, his ink simmering. She was definitely pushing buttons, and no one wants you was a sore spot with him, especially in light of Lilly's rejection. A plume of steam shooting out of Dot's ears, though, reminded him to put a sock in it. He'd told his sibs not to let her get to them, and it wouldn't be good for any of them if he ended up losing his temper. "We're here to discuss being loaned out to MGM for a while."

Miss Ickheart's face remained impassive, but Yakko didn't miss the spark of anger in her eyes. "I'll let Mr. Plotz know you're here," she ground out. "Sit down, please."

Thinking it must have nearly given her an embolism to force out please, Yakko led Wakko and Dot to a pair of chairs nearby. "Wait here, you two. "I'll go get us some water." He learned closer and whispered, "Don't pay any attention to her. You guys got somethin' to keep yourselves busy?"

Dot nodded and pulled a well-worn copy of The Wizard of Oz out of her skirt pocket. Wakko reached under his hat and took out a set of strings, then began winding them around his fingers and into an intricate pattern. Yakko recognized it as a cat's cradle – unsurprising, given Wakko's ability to create things with his hands. He nodded, said a be-right-back to them, and beat feet down the hall to the water cooler. He filled their cups, waved hi to Jimmy Cagney, and took the cups in each hand, winding his tail around the third.

As soon as Yakko was within earshot of Mr. Plotz's office, he heard something that sent alarm churning in his gut. Dot was crying and Wakko was yelling something incoherent. As Yakko got closer, the words became clear:

"…didn't do anything to you! Why don't you pick on someone your own size?"

"Oh, boo-hoo! I can do anything I want. It's not fair that I have more talent than all the so-called stars in this town and I haven't gotten a single offer, while you, the ink blots everyone hates, have the nerve to ask for work at another studio. Who in their right mind would hire you, anyway? Like I said, you're all ugly as sin."

Yakko gritted his teeth, anger surging within him. No wonder Dot was in tears and Wakko was so mad. Being called ugly was one of very few things that could make his sister cry. He hurried toward the door, ready to defend his sibs against the witch picking on them.

Wakko's voice came through loud and clear, and he was definitely in a fury. "Shut up! You've got no right calling us ugly when you're uglier than a mud fence, inside and out!"

No sooner had the words dropped than Yakko threw the office door open, and the second he did, time seemed to slow down. Miss Ickheart, her gaunt face twisted with anger, flew out from behind her desk and backhanded Wakko across his face. Wakko let out a cry of pain and went reeling out of his chair, clutching the right side of his face in agony.

It was as if a red haze dropped over Yakko's vision. Calling them names and shouting verbal abuse at them was bad enough, but hitting one of his sibs was unconscionable. No one, and Yakko meant no one, laid a finger on his brother and sister. White-hot rage flared inside him, and all reason, all restraint, all self-control went bye-bye. Yakko hurled the water in his hands straight into Miss Ickheart's face and, with an almighty swing of his tail, flung the third cup over her head. She shrieked as the cold water hit her, but it was drowned out by Yakko's roar of fury as he tackled her to the floor.

"Don't – you – ever – hit – my – sibs – again!" Yakko bellowed, snatching her hair with every word until it was all jerked loose, falling into her face in a scraggly mess. "Pick on someone your own size, you rotten –" He yelled some choice words at Miss Ickheart, all while keeping her pinned down with his knees, tweaking her nose hard and pulling her ears. "Let me catch you pickin' on my brother and sister again, and I'll swing you from one of the chandeliers in Props, you evil –"

"That is enough!"

Yakko felt a hand seize him by the scruff of his neck and rip him off the screaming Miss Ickheart. He then found himself staring into the furious, brick-red face of Mr. Plotz. "What?" he snapped, in no mood to fake pleasantries.

Mr. Plotz glared at him. "My office, now." And without letting go, he dragged Yakko in front of his desk and slung him into a chair. Yakko folded his arms and threw the studio chief a filthy look. If Mr. Plotz wanted groveling for mercy, he darn well wasn't going to get it.

Mr. Plotz plunked down behind his desk and bored his eyes into Yakko's. "I am speechless, Yakko. That was the most disgusting display of temper I've ever seen, and I've worked with some of the most temperamental people in Hollywood!"

"I thought you said you were speechless," Yakko said snidely, not giving a rat's butt how sarcastic he sounded.

If Mr. Plotz had snorted steam from his nose, Yakko would not have been surprised. The chief looked like an angry bull at this point. "Don't you dare get sarcastic with me. Not when you've just traumatized my secretary!"

Yakko laughed in disbelief. "Traumatized? That's a laugh and a half. She's lucky I didn't give her worse after she made my sister cry and knocked my brother out of his chair."

Mr. Plotz seemed to struggle for a response to that. "You don't know that she wasn't trying to defend herself."

"Don't give me the banana oil, Thad. I know what I heard and saw, and Dogface out there started it. I told Wakko and Dot to keep busy and ignore her 'cause we knew she'd wanna pick on us. And if you ain't noticed she picks a fight with anyone who ain't bigger than she is, you're either blind, dumb, or both. My money's on both."

"You are skating on thin ice, Yakko," Mr. Plotz growled. "If you expect to be loaned out to Metro, then you had better get out there and apologize to Miss Eckhart for assaulting her."

"Not gonna happen. She needs to apologize to my sibs for hurting them."

Mr. Plotz pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "I am trying to remain calm. You need to apologize, for the studio's sake, if not your own. There are already rumors flying around Hollywood about you three wreaking havoc on this lot. Winchell's run Lord knows how many radio programs about the pranks you've pulled, and Louella Parsons seems to think you've set fire to the lot on more than one occasion."

"A few jokes, nothin' that caused bodily harm. And Lolly needs to check her sources, 'cause we don't do arson," Yakko said with an eye-roll.

"Regardless of what you have or haven't done, you three are making a laughingstock out of this studio! And you beating the stuffing out of my secretary will just add fuel to the fire!"

"Well, I wouldn't have had to beat the stuffing out of your guard dog if you kept her on a leash, 'specially if she's gonna be a –"

Outside the office door, where Wakko and Dot had their ears pressed to the wood, they heard Yakko drop the B-bomb and gasped. "Oh boy, he's really mad. Yakko doesn't cuss like that unless he's sore," Dot whispered. Wakko didn't say anything, just winced and put his ear back to the door.

Inside, Mr. Plotz was gaping at Yakko in shock. "Are you insane?"

"No, I'm mad as hornets, thanks to you. I'm not apologizin' for what I did, 'cause I'm not sorry. My brother and sister are my whole world, and I'll be darned if I'm gonna let someone kick 'em around. And I'll tell you somethin' else, Thad. If you cared about us half as much as you care about your image and your next wad of green, we wouldn't be in this mess in the first place!" Yakko yelled, fed up with his crap.

Mr. Plotz slammed a hand on his desk, his face purpling with anger. "That does it! You can forget about working at Metro, and while you're at it, kiss your freedom goodbye! You three have been nothing but thorns in my side since the day you were drawn, and I am not going to let you ruin this studio's reputation any longer! You're going to stay in the water tower until the end of time!"

Yakko felt ice run down his spine. He figured he'd get a grounding or suspension from the lot. He'd never dreamed he'd get a life sentence and worse, that his sibs would be punished along with him. "You can't do that! You can't punish Wakko and Dot for this! They didn't do anything!"

"They're your ink and paint. I'm not taking any chances." Mr. Plotz picked up his phone and hit a button. "Get the security guards in here, now. Get these three out of my sight and into the water tower where they belong. Lock the door and throw away the key. Make sure they never get out."

"NO!" Yakko yelled as a broad-shouldered guard stormed in and seized him. The next things he heard were his sibs' cries of first confusion, then heartbreak as they were all hauled off to jail. They were thrown inside the water tower and the door was slammed shut, this time for good. Yakko hurled himself against it multiple times, but it was pointless. They were prisoners in their own home – and it was his fault. Wakko and Dot would never run free or see the sun again, because he couldn't control his temper or his mouth. Guilt washing over him, he sank to the floor and buried his face in his hands, hot tears stinging his eyes. My fault… my fault…

An arm slid around his shoulders. "Yakko? Are you crying?"

Yakko looked up to see his sister's concerned face. Wakko likewise had scooted close, his eyes doleful. Yakko swiped at his eyes and sniffled. "I'm sorry, you guys, I'm so sorry. It's my fault we're here. If I hadn't shot off my mouth, we wouldn't be locked up like crooks."

"Yakko, it's not your fault! You were defending us!" Dot exclaimed.

"Yeah, big brother. You stood up for us," Wakko added.

Yakko shook his head. "I did what I told you not to do. I lost my temper, and look what it got us. You guys are locked up for life because of me." He put his head back in his hands, a sob quaking his body. "I'm so sorry…"

"Quit apologizing," Dot said firmly, pulling his head back up. "Don't apologize for sticking up for us. You beat up Miss Ickheart and you let Mr. Plotz have it, 'cause he sure as heck wasn't gonna take our side. He's the one who threw us in here, not you." She took Yakko's face in her hands. "You're our hero, Yakko. You gotta believe that."

"Dot's right," Wakko said. He wrapped his arms around Yakko and hugged him tight. "We love you."

Yakko felt like weeping even harder. "You guys don't hate me?"

"No chance. Mr. Plotz, yes. You, no. If you hadn't defended us, that'd be a whole 'nother story. Like Wakko said," Dot avowed, hugging him, "we love you."

His heart lifting for the first time that day, Yakko smiled through his tears and embraced his sibs, both at once. "I love you, too. So much." He squeezed them again. "Between Lilly and Mr. Plotz, I was startin' to think no one loved me. I guess I didn't have to worry."

"You shred it, wheat," Wakko said, causing Yakko to laugh.

"Yup. They can take away our contracts and our freedom, but they can't take away the love we have," said Dot.

Yakko hugged them even closer, sending up a prayer of thanks, yet again, for his sibs and their love. As long as they had each other, the life sentence just might be bearable. "Darn skippy. And who said we had to be miserable? Heck, we got time to plan our escape. And when we finally bust outta here, we're gonna make sure no one forgets us. Who are we?" He held a hand out, palm down.

Wakko put his hand over Yakko's. "We're the Warner brothers."

Dot slapped her hand atop theirs. "And the Warner sister."

"That's right. So let's get planning," Yakko said, his mind already whirling with escape plots and what the future might have in store. " 'Cause when we finally do get out, the world ain't gonna know what hit 'em."

Author note: Classic movie buffs will recognize Yakko's "drinking buddy" here. Bette Davis was one of the greatest old-Hollywood actresses and she was under contract at Warner Bros. in the 1930s (and beyond), winning two Academy Awards and earning nine more nominations throughout the span of her career. Her sharp wit and her no-nonsense attitude are not exaggerated, and I totally believe she and Yakko would have gotten along very well. And Bette's threat to take Mr. Plotz to court? Also true. In 1936, Bette sued Jack Warner, the real-life chief of Warner Bros., over the legalism of her contract. She wanted more autonomy in her career and more freedom to choose her own roles, because she didn't feel she was being given either good material or enough decent roles (she was right). Although she lost the lawsuit, her career ironically took off after that and she was given some career roles, including Jezebel (her second Oscar for Best Actress) and her best role as Margo Channing in All About Eve.

Cartoon buffs will also spot some familiar names and locations. Termite Terrace, which housed the famous Warner Bros. animation department, was indeed real, and 1933 was the year that they cleaned house and hired some incredible talent that would later on become their star directors. Frank Tashlin directed some of the earliest Merrie Melodies shorts, while Friz Freleng and Chuck Jones would go on to become part of Warner Bros.' big three directors, the third being Robert McKimson.