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Showing posts with label Danny Kaye. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Danny Kaye. Show all posts

Thursday, February 21, 2013

MENTAL MONTAGE: Super Stars


Just as "Superman" could only pretend to be "Clark Kent," George Reeves could only
pretend to be Superman. Yet, many film stars seem more heroic for performing
 superhuman acts off camera.

Despite evidence to the contrary, including the glossy sheen of celebrity gossip mags, movie stars are just people-- hence their appearance on the cover of People. We sometimes forget this, as their alleged humanity is hidden like a shameful secret behind publicist bodyguards and airbrushed elegance. The fact that some of their bodies withstand the effects of unconscionable amounts of barbiturates is also puzzling. However, word on the street is, our heroes aren't any different or any more impenetrable than you or I. George Reeves made this point vividly when he proved that he was not faster than a speeding bullet. True, true-- being famous does not make one "big" nor important. You have money: congratulations. God gifted you with a perfect profile: hallelujah. What else have you got? What makes you so damn special? The stars that really turn the head are the ones who, in the words of the incomparable Anthony Kiedis, "Give It Away." Those who use their celebrity and fortune to help others always seem to transcend the narcissism attached to the film profession, particularly when their good deeds are not performed at a press junket or a well-publicized benefit. When these acts come off the cuff, in the heat of the moment, and out of the spotlight-- sometimes before the celeb is even a celeb-- one can be assured that the individual performing various acts of decency is in fact a decent human being. Only then, does one seem superhuman. FYI:

Audrey Hepburn (left) would garner a lot of respect throughout her life, particularly in her later years when she donated so much of her time and effort to UNICEF-- an organization once championed by Danny Kaye. However, Audrey's acts of courage actually began quite young. In 1944, Audrey was living just outside Arnhem in Velp-- a town in the Netherlands. Thus, she would be very close to the ensuing chaos brought on by WWII when Arnhem became the target of one of history's most notorious bombing raids. Her extended family, some of whom were staying on her grandfather's property in Oosterbeek, actually filmed home movies of German and British soldiers battling on the lawn and dropping from the sky in their parachutes. The Arnhem Bridge alone was a major focal point of Axis versus Ally gunfire. The most that the scattered citizens of this area could do was duck and cover, keep their heads down, and wait for the storm to pass. However, Audrey and her mother Ella did more, often providing lodging and food for Allied soldiers. It was a risky venture, and while Ella made certain not to put her own daughter's life in too much danger, they participated when they could.

One example of Audrey's fortitude occurred during the September raid. It was discovered that an English soldier had parachuted from the sky and landed lost and isolated in the woods near Audrey's temporary home. When patriots learned of his presence, and the fact that he was surrounded on all sides by German soldiers, Audrey-- with her impeccable English-- was sent to deliver a message of warning to him. Legend would have it that Audrey led the soldier to food and shelter, where he was at least able to rest and recuperate as much as possible before he was finally captured as a prisoner of war. He too was rumored to have given her a silver medal with the Lord's Prayer on it, which was his only possession at the time. However, this is a bit embellished. It seems that the extent of the action was thus: Audrey took a brisk walk through the forest, under the guise of a bored teenaged girl getting some air, and traded information with the soldier. She then picked some flowers and skipped home as if everything was hunky-dory-- a good move, since she passed a German soldier, at whom she smiled and handed her bouquet. The dumb cluck never suspected a thing. It may seem like a small thing in retrospect, but had her agenda been discovered, Audrey may have been captured... or worse. In any event, her efforts assuredly saved the English soldier's life. (Don't let the sweet face fool ya'-- she's deadly! Audrey right in Paris When It Sizzles).

During his reign as the ultimate Hollywood cowboy, William S. Hart (left) would be viewed as a hero to many. However, one of his most impressive and selfless deeds would be performed long before he ever got in the saddle at Triangle Film Corp. with filmmaker Thomas Ince. Back in 1895, when flickers were still just starting to flicker in the public imagination, Bill was traveling with Madame Rhea and her acting company performing in such plays as "Much Ado about Nothing." It was a rough life traveling from city to city, state to state, and during this particular run, Hart and the troupe trekked all over the Great Lakes region. While passing through Michigan, life went from uncomfortable to downright tragic. Due to some unknown glitch or mishap, the train carrying Bill and his actor comrades derailed and actually flipped over! Luckily, Bill made it out ok with the expected cuts and bruises. However, the engineer and the train fireman were both trapped! Bill could hear them screaming from their place in the cab. Although his vision was blocked by clouds of steam, he was able to follow their voices to their location where he had to actually bend steel to free them and pull them to safety. The engineer fortunately survived, taking home a broken arm as his trophy. Unfortunately, despite Bill's efforts, the fireman was not so lucky-- he passed away with Bill's coat wrapped around him. It was certainly a moment that Bill would never forget, and it prepped him for his future work, in which he did more than one scene on a moving train.

Charles "Buddy" Rogers is recalled as being the adorable boy next door-- albeit maybe in better shape, (see right). A simple, down-to-earth guy, he was surprised to find himself making films in Hollywood when all he'd ever wanted to do was devote his life to jazz-- he played the trombone and various other instruments. At one time, he even led his own orchestra, which included the legendary drummer Gene Krupa. Yet, with his father's half-teasing suggestion, he did find himself before the camera and is today cemented in history as not only a star of the first Oscar winner for Best Picture--Wings-- but as the third and final husband of none other than Mary Pickford. Someone has to be pretty special to steal "America's Sweetheart" from Douglas Fairbanks, let alone keep her, but Buddy did that with his natural, sweet temperament and generous heart. However, an act worthy of true admiration occurred a mere month before his became the new Emperor of Pickfair. In May of 1937, he was in his hometown of Olathe, KS getting ready to perform with his swing band. It just so happened that the hot jazz singer Connie Boswell was playing at the same venue. This fact would prove very fortunate for her. See, Connie liked her ciggs: so much so that she accidentally fell asleep in her dressing room with one still ablaze in her hand. The couch caught fire! Buddy, who must have smelled the smoke, rushed in and was able to pull her from the burning furniture and beat out the flames before they literally snuffed her out! Good thing, or else her fans would be singing "Say It Isn't So" about her untimely death! (Ironically, Buddy's debut song on Broadway was "Hot-cha!").
Charlie Chaplin would play the accidental hero in many of his films. From saving the drunken millionaire from suicide in City Lights to rescuing Jackie Coogan in The Kid, he always found a way to save the day-- amidst much comedy, of course. However, he performed some actual life-saving daring-do in August of 1917. Following the release of his latest hit, The Immigrant, Charlie and his film company were shooting his next feature, The Adventurer, on the Sierra Madre coast. Of course, the presence of a major movie star caused quite a stir among the locals, who made their way to the seaside to watch him and his crew as they made magic on the beach. Unfortunately, one little girl became a little too absorbed in the action. Sitting on a large rock in the water, she was knocked from her seat when a huge wave came crashing over her. Though he was a very fastidious and focused man while working, Charlie couldn't help but notice that! In fact, he dived into the waves to save her. He pulled the shaken girl ashore, and she was soon warmed and back to normal-- though she certainly remained in a bit of shock, first from the near-death experience, then from her unexpected meeting with the Tramp (left). It was big news, of course, and made all of the local papers. Little Mildred Morrison had come to the beach that day to see her hero. Little did she know that she would actually be heroically saved by him!

Despite his occassional, diabolical on-screen performances, Lon Chaney represented to some a guardian angel. His countless acts of kindness and charity over the years did not go unnoticed by his peers, though he always maintained anonymity when giving himself to any cause or helping any person in need. It was the deed that mattered, not his personal reward. In 1926, he would perform in one of his favorite films-- with no make-up-- Tell It to the Marines (right). However, he'd had a brush with the military a few years prior when he met Sgt. Frank McClouskey. The Sergeant was a veteran of The Great War whose own heroic deeds in serving his country, and in effect the world, had ended tragically with severe injuries. The mental effects upon returning from the devastation of battle is one thing, however McClouskey too had to handle the physical results-- he had been rendered partially paralyzed. One need only watch Lon's performances in The Shock, West of Zanzibar, or The Black Bird to realize that he had a particularly soft spot for the crippled and "infirm." So, he made it his mission, out of respect for the Sergeant and his bravery, to pay for an operation that would correct the malady. The operation was a success-- a fact that was proven at Lon's own funeral in 1930: Sgt. McClouskey paid his respects and showed his eternal gratitude to his own hero by standing at attention and guarding Lon's casket for the entire three day wake. In a room filled with family friends, many of whom were deaf-mutes like Lon's parents, McClouskey's statement conveyed more than words possibly could.

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

BITS OF COINCIDENCE: Part XI



Two big Hollywood stars would meet Bette Davis back 
when she was an innocent ingenue... But that 
Bette didn't last for long.


Believe it or not, when Bette Davis first arrived in Hollywood, she was a much more demure figure than history recalls. An insecure, uncomplaining worker, she gave her all for long hours in ridiculous projects in order to make a good impression and hopefully carve out a niche for herself. With her self-esteem at a low, she would need time, experience, and box-office clout before she transformed into the demanding diva we all know and love. Also not popularly known is the fact that Bette remained a virgin until her wedding day-- a fact she proudly proclaimed in later life... before listing the names of her following lovers. Thus, young, unmarried, innocent Bette stood out like a sore thumb in her early days of Hollywood. Unaccustomed to men and unaccustomed to the business, she had a thing or two to learn. One evening, Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. thought he would help her out.


On New Years Eve of 1931, Bette was attending a posh Hollywood party being thrown by Lois Wilson. She had hoped to meet some important people, schmooze, etc, but as shy as she was, she spent most of the night in a corner by herself. Doug (left), clearly drunk at this point, noticed the delicate, doe-eyed, cream-puff and swaggered over to her. In her eye-catching gown, with decolletage on display, Doug must have noticed the strange inconsistency between her shut-off demeanor and her come-hither gown. Clearly, this was a girl hoping for attention yet unable to play the Hollywood game-- i.e. use her sexuality to gain control. Thus, reaching into her dress and groping one of her breasts, he offered the following advice: "You should use ice on your breasts the way my wife does." His wife of the time, incidentally, was Joan Crawford. He then stumbled away. Bette was mortified! She rushed home in tears, terrified of this new place called Hollywood and its questionable inhabitants. She quickly wed her first husband, Ham Nelson-- a much more bashful fellow-- in an attempt at normalcy, but Doug's slurred words must have had some effect. Though she never had a penchant for ice, she got the underlying message, and slowly came out of her cocoon and became one Hell of a bulldozing butterfly. One wonders if she ever thanked Doug for the tip? One wonders if (sober) he even remembered giving it???


There are a lot of stories regarding the competitive relationship that Bette shared with Joan Crawford, which came to life fully in What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? While Bette always craved Joan's star appeal, Joan always envied Bette's talent. Their conflicting egos would make the shooting of this particular film a tense affair. Coincidentally, it was their only collaboration. But, Bette actually had a more profound rivalry and deep-rooted hate-fest going with Miriam Hopkins (right). Interestingly, these two ladies crossed paths long before Bette's Hollywood days when both were members of George Cukor's theater company in New York in 1928. At the time, Miriam was the leading lady and Bette a mere featured ingenue. The tables turned and the mini-degrees of separation continued when Bette starred in Jezebel, a role that Miriam had brought to life on the stage. Bette then had an affair with Anatole Litvak, Miriam's husband, who directed her in The Sisters. By 1939, when the two ladies starred together in The Old Maid, there was definitely some animosity. Bette wanted to play both of the lead roles herself, as a dual force phenomenon, but failed to convince production. Miriam was cast opposite her instead. Afterward, Bette would recall Miriam as being a great actress but a "total bitch." Of course, Bette conveniently forgot her tryst with Anatole, which was a major factor in Miriam's hatred. On the set, the ladies continuously tried to out-do each other, as they later would in Old Acquaintance. Bette would conspire with the director and keep Miriam out of the loop; Miriam would over-act and position herself so that Bette couldn't steal the frame. When it came time for Bette's character in Old Acquaintance to shake the daylights out of Miriam's character, there was little acting involved. Yet, because the two had such history together, it made their performances opposite each other much more intricate and believable. Some frenemies go waaaaaaaay back.


Two other Hollywood ladies were 'old acquaintances,' but in their case, there was genuine friendship. Back in 1922, Mae Clarke (left) was dancing with a slew of other hopeful young women on the stages of The New Amsterdam Theatre in New York as a part of the illustrious "Ziegfeld's Follies." Her roommate and fellow high-kicker during this time? Barbara Stanwyck. The two were close friends with mutual aspirations toward fame, fortune, and getting the Hell out of a compromising lifestyle. At the time, they were living above a laundry with a third roomie, Walda, trying to eek by. Later they all moved to the Knickerbocker. In Barbara's memory: "I just wanted to survive and eat and have a nice coat." Happily, both Mae and Babs would shimmy their way out of NYC and come to mutual acclaim in Hollywood. Barbara's personal ambition was a little stronger than Mae's, so she would enjoy a lengthier and more memorable career, though Mae's roles as gangsters' molls also give her a safe place in cinematic history. Certainly, when the two pals crossed paths in Hollywood, years after their youthful, scantily-clad beginnings, they must have shared a laugh about the old days and how far they had come. Despite the pain of those years, Barbara always remembered them with fondness, most probably because of the bonds and alliances she shared with so many young women experiencing and trying to survive the same circumstances.


When Veronica Lake came to Hollywood at sixteen, she had mixed emotions. On the one hand, she was in a place where dreams allegedly came true and where some of her screen-heroes came to life. On the other hand, she wasn't sure about all this acting jazz and wasn't too happy about her mother's plans to push her into the spotlight. Her experience in Tinsel Town would go down in history as one of the most tragic examples of the monster celebrity machine, but there were too some good days. One of these days occurred when Ronni and the family-- including her mother, stepfather, and cousin-- first pulled into Los Angeles in 1938. Famished after a long trip, they stopped to eat at a drive-in burger joint. Suddenly, another car pulled beside them. Casually glancing at the driver next-door, Ronni's jaw hit the floor when she saw that it was one of her idols: Anne Shirley (right)!!! She tried to play it cool, but she was overcome with excitement. Ronni watched Anne scarf down a burger with as much attention as she gave to any of her films, then sighed as the starlet drove away. Funnily enough, Ronni would later work with Anne in Sorority House, although Ronni played a measly extra in the film. Ronni never had the courage to tell Anne about their shared lunch, but she did muster the strength to introduce herself and express her gratitude at being able to work with, or at least near, her. Anne was a doll, and wished Ronni much luck in her career. The wish came true when Ronni became the peek-a-boo girl of the movies.


Carroll Baker's career-changing trek to Los Angeles was equally illuminating. When in flight for her first meeting with George Stevens regarding a possible role in Giant-- one she inevitably got-- Carroll was killing time with a little reading. She had just wed Jack Garfein, and in order to become more accustomed to and appreciative of her husband's religious life, she had brought The History of the Jews along for the ride. As her eyes flicked from page to page, she heard a voice: "What's a shiksa like you doing reading The History of the Jews?" Carroll looked up and her eyes bulged. It was Danny Kaye (left)!!! Not only that, but he was flying with famed director Mervyn LeRoy! The two men shared chuckles over her choice in literature and then got to talking. When she mentioned the Giant offer, Mervyn wished her luck, but Danny offered a warning: "Go back!" Concerned for the young girl, after having endured his share of sleaziness and back-stabbing in Hollywood, Danny continued with the fatherly advice, urging Carroll that Tinsel Town wasn't "for everyone." Carroll took the information to heart, but at a young age, she had already encountered more than a few harsh life lessons and felt ready to take the plunge regardless. After some personal hurdles, she certainly may have wondered whether she should have taken Danny's advice, but in the end she conquered both her demons and Hollywood, becoming one of the most memorable performers of the "Method" generation.


Some celebrity meetings are less exciting, if only because at the time, the mutual stars don't know that they're stars: they're children. When Louise Brooks (right) was growing up in Cherryvale, KS, she was already sporting her notorious Buster Brown haircut and exploring the world of dance, but she lacked all other indications of her later splendor-- save maybe her "devilish" personality and an early fascination with films. At the age of four, she was just a young-un, enjoying her youth, playing with neighborhood kids, and getting into the usual bits of trouble. Of course, her childhood was not an easy one, including familial tensions and a tragic experience of sexual abuse that would definitely shape her protective, defiant demeanor. While part of the neighborhood band of kids, she somehow still seemed on her own, separate, and a bit puzzling to her contemporaries-- one of whom was Vivian Vance, the lady later known as Ethel Mertz on "I Love Lucy." At the time, Vivian's last name was still "Jones." She and her sister Venus lived across the street from "Lulu" and they were all close chums, though the sisters often had trouble keeping up with Louise's never-ending energy. They also knew not to come between Louise and her fudge. No one, but NO ONE, ate Louise's fudge. In later years, few would even think to put Vivian and Louise in the same category, but in their youths, Venus would recall that Louise's passion for dancing mixed well with Viv's already well-honed comedy skills. Who knew that the Queen of the Silent Screen was once BFFs with the Princess of the TV set?


Vivian Vance... reminiscing about her Cherryvale and 
"Brooksie" days?