“I don’t get ulcers. I give them.”
I first encountered this quote during one of the worst weeks of my professional life. My manager had just finished a forty-minute phone call — all shouting, all blame, zero solutions — and slammed his office door hard enough to rattle the window glass. A colleague leaned over and whispered it to me with a tired smirk: “He doesn’t get ulcers. He gives them.” I had no idea it was a famous line. It just felt like the most accurate thing anyone had said all week. Later that evening, I looked it up out of curiosity. What I found was a surprisingly deep rabbit hole — a single savage quip with multiple claimants, a Hollywood origin story, and decades of retelling. That discovery sent me down a research path I couldn’t stop following. So let’s trace exactly where this line came from, who said it first, and why it has refused to die.
The Quote and Its Raw Power
Few lines capture a certain kind of ruthless authority as efficiently as this one. In just eight words, it paints a complete portrait. The speaker dominates. The speaker causes pain rather than absorbing it. The speaker wears stress like armor rather than carrying it like a wound. It is, fundamentally, a boast dressed up as a medical observation. The line works because it inverts the expected direction of suffering. Everyone assumes the boss burns out. This speaker insists the opposite — everyone else burns out because of the boss.
That inversion is what made it quotable. Additionally, the delivery matters enormously. Every retelling describes the speaker snarling, roaring, or irately replying. The fury in the delivery proves the point. Here is someone who channels aggression outward, not inward. Whether you admire that or find it monstrous probably says something about your own relationship with power.
The Earliest Known Appearance
The trail begins in March 1947. Fidler was one of the most widely read Hollywood gossip columnists of his era, and his column reached millions of readers across the United States.
In that first telling, Fidler kept the identity of the mogul anonymous. He described an employee who had just witnessed a brutal fifteen-minute tongue-lashing. The employee, apparently genuinely concerned, warned the executive that such repeated outbursts could cause stomach ulcers. The executive’s response was immediate and volcanic:
“I don’t get ulcers,” roared the mighty one, “I give them!”
Notably, Fidler did not name the speaker in 1947. He referred only to “the big shot” and “the mighty one.” This anonymity is important. It suggests either that Fidler wanted to protect his source, or that the story was already circulating as a kind of unattributed Hollywood legend. Either way, the quote entered print without a confirmed author.
The Story Spreads — And Names Start Appearing
Within a year, the quote began circulating more widely. In May 1948, a South Dakota newspaper reprinted a version of the anecdote, crediting a publication called the “Message-Signaleer.” This version featured a Hollywood writer listening to a producer rant on the telephone. The writer warned about ulcers. The producer snapped the now-familiar reply.
Still no name. However, that changed quickly.
In August 1948, Hollywood columnist Edith Gwynn published a version in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch that pointed a specific finger. According to Gwynn, someone asked Sam Goldwyn why he never seemed to develop ulcers. Goldwyn’s answer was crisp and characteristically blunt: “I don’t get them. I give them!”
Sam Goldwyn was, at this point, one of the most powerful and famously difficult personalities in the film industry. Attributing the line to Goldwyn made immediate cultural sense. He had a well-established reputation for explosive behavior and memorable malapropisms. The quote fit his legend perfectly.
Joseph Wood Krutch Weighs In
Just weeks later, the quote reached a more literary audience. In September 1948, the respected critic Joseph Wood Krutch referenced it in the pages of The New York Times Book Review. Krutch kept the attribution anonymous, referring simply to “that movie magnate.” His framing was slightly critical — he noted that the attitude behind the line was “not really chic.” Nevertheless, his use of the quote in a prominent national publication helped cement it as a piece of cultural currency.
This is a meaningful moment in the quote’s history. Krutch wasn’t a gossip columnist. He was a serious intellectual. When serious intellectuals start referencing a quip, even disapprovingly, it signals that the line has crossed from industry gossip into broader cultural conversation.
The Lyndon Johnson Connection
The quote’s reach extended well beyond Hollywood. In February 1949, the St. Louis Post-Dispatch published a profile of a rising Texas senator named Lyndon Baines Johnson. Johnson’s colleagues called him the “Blanco Blitz” — a reference to his hometown of Blanco, Texas, and his relentless energy.
When one of his sixteen secretaries developed an ulcer, someone asked the obvious question: when would the senator himself get one? The reply from his entourage was immediate: “The Blanco Blitz doesn’t get ulcers; he gives ’em.”
This version is fascinating for several reasons. First, Johnson’s staff applied the quote to him — he didn’t necessarily say it himself. Second, the line had clearly become flexible enough to attach to any dominant, high-pressure personality. Additionally, the Johnson connection shows how quickly the quote migrated from Hollywood to Washington politics. The same archetype — the relentless, aggressive leader who externalizes rather than internalizes stress — existed across industries.
Fidler Names Selznick
Then came the most significant development in the quote’s attribution history. In June 1949, Jimmie Fidler — the same columnist who had first published the line two years earlier — finally named the speaker.
Fidler’s June 1949 column was direct:
“David O. Selznick, nerve strainer. It was Mr. Selznick who, on being warned that his tantrums might leave him with stomach ulcers, irately replied, ‘I do not GET ulcers; I GIVE them!'”
The capitalization in that final line speaks volumes. Fidler wanted readers to feel the emphasis Selznick placed on each word. This wasn’t a casual remark — it was a declaration of identity.
David O. Selznick had every credential needed to make this quote believable. He was notorious for his obsessive, controlling management style. He sent hundreds of memos daily to his staff, often in the middle of the night. He demanded perfection and expressed dissatisfaction loudly and repeatedly. The image of Selznick warning an employee about ulcers — and turning the warning inside out — fits his documented personality precisely.
Harry Cohn Enters the Picture
By 1967, a third major candidate had stepped forward — or been pushed forward. Journalist Bob Thomas published King Cohn: The Life and Times of Harry Cohn, a biography of the Columbia Pictures president. Thomas wrote that more than one executive had given truth to a statement Cohn proudly claimed to have originated: “I don’t have ulcers; I give them!”
Harry Cohn was, by most accounts, one of the most feared men in Hollywood. He ruled Columbia Pictures with a combination of intimidation, instinct, and raw aggression. His employees famously dreaded his temper. Cohn reportedly had a device installed in his office that allowed him to monitor conversations throughout the building. For a man like Cohn, claiming authorship of the ulcer line wasn’t just plausible — it was on-brand.
Thomas’s phrasing is careful, though. He writes that Cohn “claimed to have originated” the statement. That’s not the same as confirming it. Thomas himself seems skeptical, noting that multiple executives embodied the sentiment. Nevertheless, the Cohn attribution has persisted strongly in popular memory.
Sam Goldwyn Gets a Second Mention
Goldwyn’s connection to the quote didn’t end with the 1948 Edith Gwynn column. In 1955, a gossip column offered a different version of the story. When MGM boss Dore Schary ended up in the hospital with an ulcer, Goldwyn reportedly called him with advice: “Young fellow, I’ve got some advice for you about ulcers — give ’em, don’t get ’em.”
This version is softer in tone. Goldwyn presents the philosophy almost as mentorship — passing wisdom to a younger executive. However, the core idea remains identical. Stress flows outward, not inward. The strong executive externalizes; the weak one internalizes.
This 1955 version also demonstrates something important about how quotes evolve. The same essential idea gets repackaged for different situations. Goldwyn’s line to Schary isn’t a verbatim repeat of the 1948 version. Instead, it’s an adaptation — same philosophy, new context, new delivery.
How the Quote Evolved Across Retellings
Comparing all the versions reveals fascinating patterns. The core structure — warning about ulcers, aggressive inversion — stays constant. However, the specific wording shifts considerably.
– “I don’t get ulcers. I give them.” – “I don’t get them, I give them.” – “I don’t have ulcers; I give them!” – “I do not GET ulcers; I GIVE them!” – “Give ’em, don’t get ’em.”
Each variation preserves the essential paradox. Additionally, each version reflects the storyteller’s style and the publication’s register. Fidler’s version uses dramatic capitalization. The New York Times version is more measured. The 1955 Goldwyn version is almost folksy.
This kind of variation is entirely normal for quotes that spread through oral culture before achieving print permanence. The quote wasn’t born in a press release. It emerged from a conversation, passed through gossip networks, and reached print in multiple slightly different forms. Consequently, pinning down a single “correct” version is probably impossible.
The Three Main Candidates: A Closer Look
Let’s assess each candidate honestly.
David O. Selznick holds the strongest documentary position. The columnist who first published the quote — Jimmie Fidler — later named Selznick specifically. Fidler presumably had sources close to the studios. His willingness to eventually name Selznick carries weight. Moreover, Selznick’s documented management style makes the attribution psychologically credible.
Samuel Goldwyn appears in two separate sources — the 1948 Gwynn column and the 1955 Johnson column. However, neither source claims firsthand knowledge. Additionally, Goldwyn was frequently the recipient of misattributed quotes. His reputation for colorful, aggressive speech made him a natural magnet for lines that needed a famous face.
Harry Cohn rests almost entirely on his own claim, as reported by Bob Thomas twenty years after the quote’s earliest appearance. Self-attribution is the weakest form of evidence. Furthermore, Cohn had strong incentives to claim authorship of a line that perfectly captured his desired self-image.
Based on available evidence, Selznick leads. However, the honest answer is that certainty remains out of reach. The quote may have originated in an unrecorded conversation and attached itself to multiple powerful personalities because it fit them all so well.
Why This Quote Endures
The line has outlasted all its potential originators. Today, it appears in business books, management seminars, motivational posters, and dark-humor meme accounts. Its survival makes psychological sense.
The quote taps into something real about power dynamics. In any hierarchical system, stress does flow downward. The person at the top sets the emotional temperature. Their anxiety, anger, and pressure cascade through every layer beneath them. The ulcer line simply names that reality with brutal honesty — and from the perspective of the person doing the cascading.
There’s also a dark humor element that keeps it alive. The line is funny in the way that genuinely uncomfortable truths can be funny. It makes you wince and laugh simultaneously. That combination travels well across decades.
Meanwhile, the quote’s flexibility helps it survive. You can apply it to any aggressive authority figure — a CEO, a football coach, a demanding professor, a difficult parent. The Hollywood context is historical flavor, not structural requirement. The archetype is universal.
The Cultural Moment That Produced It
Understanding this quote requires understanding its era. The 1940s Hollywood studio system operated under a feudal model. Studio heads held near-absolute power over actors, directors, writers, and every other creative worker under contract. They could make careers or end them with a phone call.
In that environment, the ulcer line wasn’t just a quip — it was a statement of position. It announced that the speaker stood at the top of the food chain. It signaled that concern for personal health was a luxury reserved for people lower in the hierarchy. The mogul didn’t need to worry about stress-related illness because the mogul was the stressor.
Additionally, mid-century American business culture celebrated a certain kind of hard-driving, emotionally armored masculinity. Source Showing vulnerability — including physical vulnerability to stress — was considered weakness. The ulcer line performs invulnerability. It claims immunity from the consequences of one’s own behavior. In the 1940s, that was a badge of honor.
Modern Readings of the Quote
Today, the line reads differently. Source Contemporary management research consistently shows that high-stress, fear-based leadership produces worse outcomes than psychologically safe environments. The mogul who gives ulcers isn’t a hero — he’s a liability.
However, the quote persists precisely because the archetype it describes hasn’t disappeared. Difficult, domineering bosses still exist in every industry. The line remains useful as a piece of cultural shorthand — a way of describing a certain kind of leader without requiring a lengthy explanation.
Furthermore, the quote has developed ironic uses. People sometimes apply it self-deprecatingly, acknowledging their own difficult tendencies with a wry smile. Others use it critically, to describe someone else’s toxic behavior. The original boastful delivery has acquired layers of meaning that its original speaker — whoever that was — almost certainly never intended.
Conclusion: A Quote Without a Clear Owner
The evidence points most strongly toward David O. Source Selznick as the originator of “I don’t get ulcers. I give them.” However, the honest conclusion is that this quote belongs to a type more than a person. It captures a specific flavor of mid-century Hollywood power — aggressive, unapologetic, and utterly convinced of its own supremacy.
Sam Goldwyn may have said something similar. Harry Cohn certainly behaved consistently with the sentiment. Lyndon Johnson’s staff applied it to their boss with evident accuracy. The quote survived because it described a real phenomenon — the kind of leader who externalizes every cost — and did so with savage efficiency.
Next time someone tells you that you’re going to give yourself an ulcer, you’ll know exactly what cultural tradition you’re stepping into. Whether you choose to embrace it or reject it is, fortunately, entirely up to you.