Sharon Tate: A Life

by Ed Sanders

  Sharon further said, “People look at me . . . and all they see is a sexy thing. I mean people see sexy, I mean sexy is all they see.” The article continues, “She sighs deeply, sweetly—voice all baby’s breath. ‘When I was put under contract, I thought, “Oh, how nice,” but’—She stops, as if holding back a sob—‘I was just a piece of merchandise. No one cared about me, Sharon. People expect so much of an attractive person. I mean people are very critical on me. It makes me tense. Even when I lay down I’m tense. I’ve got an enormous imagination. I imagine all kinds of things. Like that I’m all washed up. I’m finished. I think sometimes that people don’t want me around. I don’t like to be alone though. When I’m alone my imagination gets all creepy.’

  “‘If you just take it down to bare facts, the reason for living is the reason you make it. I mean the brain was made to create. I’m trying to develop myself as a person. Well, like sometimes on weekends I don’t wear makeup.’”

  A slice of honesty from a young actress who wanted to be recognized for skills beyond her body and sexuality. In interviews during production, Tate expressed an affection for her character, Jennifer North, an aspiring actress admired only for her curves. Tate, Duke, and Parkins developed a close friendship that went on after the completion of the film. Even though the filming had been less than fun, the good-natured Sharon Tate promoted the film enthusiastically. She brought up her admiration for Lee Grant, with whom she had played several dramatic scenes. Tate was asked to comment on her nude scene, and she replied:

  “I have no qualms about it at all. I don’t see any difference between being stark naked or fully dressed—if it’s part of the job and it’s done with meaning and intention. I honestly don’t understand the big fuss made over nudity and sex in films. It’s silly. On TV, the children can watch people murdering each other, which is a very unnatural thing, but they can’t watch two people in the very natural process of making love. Now, really, that doesn’t make any sense, does it?”

  Patty Duke’s take: “By the close of shooting, everybody hated everybody. War zones had been set up all over the place. On the last night there is traditionally a wrap party. You do the final shot, the chips and dip are already set up, everybody has a drink, and sometimes people hang around until morning. On this picture I had to go around begging grips and electricians to stay so that there could be any kind of celebration at all.”

  Unlike Patty Duke and Barbara Parkins, Sharon would not live to see the day of Valley as a cult classic, with fans holding Valley of the Dolls parties on Halloween and participants dressing up as Duke’s Neely O’Hara and Sharon’s doomed Jennifer North.

  Filming locations for Valley of the Dolls included the 48th Street Playhouse and Gracie Square in New York City; suburban Katonah, New York; the LA County Music Center, plus scenes in Malibu; Redding Center, Connecticut; the Santa Monica Courthouse; and exteriors at Yale University in New Haven, Connecticut.

  During the same season, on April 2, 1967, in the midst of filming Valley of the Dolls, the masterwork Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Heart’s Club Band was completed and the next day Paul McCartney flew to the United States to surprise his love Jane Asher (who was touring in the Rockies in Romeo and Juliet) on her birthday. He first stopped in San Francisco, where he met with Jefferson Airplane, then flew on Frank Sinatra’s Learjet to Denver on April 5, then on April 7 back to Los Angeles where he met with Cass Elliot and John Phillips, and went to a Beach Boys recording session to watch Brian Wilson working on his “masterpiece,” the “Elements” suite.

  Regarding Frank Sinatra and his Learjet—we shall run into Mr. Sinatra again farther down the road.

  In the late winter of 1967, Roman Polanski went skiing in Vermont. Polanski and Cadre Films, the company he had formed with Gene Gutowski, were not doing very well by the early months of that year. After the hassles with Ransohoff over cutting and reworking The Fearless Vampire Killers, Filmways and Cadre had ended their three-picture deal.

  What had begun in a mode of triumph and splendor a year earlier was now in danger of dissolution, and Polanski was feeling depressed. He was on his way to a skiing trip in Vermont, when he took a call from Robert Evans, the thirty-six-year-old vice president in charge of production at Paramount Pictures. Evans asked Polanski to meet him to discuss a script set in the world of competitive skiing called Downhill Racer. Polanski’s answer was that he intended first to do some actual skiing.

  The Fearless Vampire Killers of course, was set in northern Italian ski country, and so Downhill Racer, a pet project of up-and-coming Robert Redford, would have been a continuation of the snowy movie theme. Ten days later Polanski was on a plane to Los Angeles. When he arrived, Evans apparently told him that Downhill Racer had just been an excuse to get him there. What he really wanted Polanski to read was an unpublished novel by Ira Levin called Rosemary’s Baby.

  Rights to the novel had been purchased by William Castle, a producer of horror movies, who then brought the galleys to Robert Evans, newly installed as head of Paramount. Castle initially had plans to place Vincent Price in the lead role, and to shoot the film in 3-D, but was bought out by Paramount for a hefty fee and a profit split, plus a producer’s credit.

  In his hotel room in Los Angeles, Polanski read the novel nonstop through the night and called Evans the following morning to tell him, “I want to do it.”

  Polanski worked out a budget of $1.9 million, out of which, through Cadre Films, he would receive a flat fee of $150,000 to write and direct, with no cut of the profits. Sharon’s agent at William Morris, Stan Kamen, negotiated the contract between Cadre Films and Paramount.

  “Characters and utmost fear are the most important things in cinema,” Roman Polanski once said. No doubt keeping that in mind, when he was back in London, Polanski began working on a script drenched in fear, cultnoia, and modern marriage. He dictated a preliminary draft to a Cadre Films secretary named Concepta. Then he worked in his little study on the top floor of his Mews house, day upon day, to perfect the script.

  In an interview with Michel Ciment, Michel Perez, and Roger Tailleur, in 1969, Polanski said, “They asked me which screenwriter I wanted and I said I’d try to write it myself, seeing at the end of the week whether it was working out or not. I went back to London and began writing. I was very enthusiastic and after three weeks had a finished script of 260 pages. Then I returned to Hollywood to start trimming it down.” It was his first adaptation of a novel to film.

  According to another biography, in just over three weeks of dictation and then polish, polish, polish, he completed a 272-page screenplay.

  Roman asked for the renowned Richard Sylbert to be production director. According to Sylbert, “I spent 30 days at the Beach House (in Malibu) with Roman working on that script after his first draft. First he did his draft.” It was Sylbert’s idea to film at the Dakota apartments in New York City. Filming began in September of 1967.

  What a moil the casting of a film so often is! Polanski viewed Rosemary as an “All American Girl”-type, and so hankered to have Tuesday Weld named to the critical role. Weld turned it down, and so did Jane Fonda because she was making Barbarella with her husband Roger Vadim in Europe. Other actresses considered were Julie Christie, Elizabeth Hartman, Patty Duke, Goldie Hawn, and Sharon’s good friend Joanna Pettet.

  Robert Evans suggested television star Mia Farrow, and brought to Polanski some footage of Peyton Place episodes so he could view Farrow in action. Polanski was not impressed, but he finally screen-tested her, and she won the part. It didn’t hurt that she was married to the much older star, Frank Sinatra—which would guarantee a high-level buzz in the media.

  As for the role of Guy Woodhouse, husband of Rosemary/Farrow, both Evans and Polanski wanted Robert Redford. Redford had a starring role with Jane Fonda in Barefoot in the Park, released in 1967 to great acceptance. He then was scheduled to star in the Silvio Narizzano’s Western, Blue, a Paramount production, but just one week prior to shooting he quit the film, and
there were some lawsuits against him as a result. During negotiations over Redford starring in Rosemary’s Baby, attorneys for Paramount apparently served Redford with a subpoena in the middle of a luncheon meeting with Polanski. This brought the negotiations to a close.

  According to a biography of Jack Nicholson by John Parker, Robert Evans suggested Jack Nicholson to Polanski but, after their meeting, Polanski stated that “for all his talent, his slightly sinister appearance ruled him out.”

  Other actors considered were Richard Chamberlain, James Fox, and Laurence Harvey. Warren Beatty turned it down. Finally the part was offered to John Cassavetes. For Minnie and Roman Castevet, producer William Castle suggested Alfred Lunt and Lynn Fontanne, the famous Broadway acting duo—parts which went to Ruth Gordon and Sidney Blackmer. Castle even asked Polanski to give him the part of Dr. Saperstein, a role eventually filled by Ralph Bellamy.

  Everybody gives advice in a film project.

  Polanski met with producer William Castle. Castle himself was eager to direct the film, but he was impressed with Polanski’s vision for the film, and assented to Polanski directing. After Polanski returned to London, had completed a script, and sent it back to Castle, Polanski called and said he would like Castle to locate a house for him, near the ocean. “His fiancée, Sharon Tate, would contact me,” as Castle wrote in his autobiography.

  “On Sunday morning, the doorbell rang at our home on Alpine Drive in Beverly Hills. I saw a strikingly beautiful woman. ‘I’m Sharon Tate.’ Her voice was soft and musical. Introducing her to Ellen and the girls, I found they were delighted with her unaffected simplicity. ‘I think I’ve found a house for you and Roman,’ I said. ‘Right on the beach. The owner, Brian Aherne, is going to Europe and wants to lease.’

  “Sharon loved the house and felt that it would be just right. Later that afternoon, Sharon Tate, barefoot, stood on the beach gazing at the ocean. Sunlight filtering through her honey-colored hair; her eyes danced with excitement. ‘It’s perfect,’” he recalled her saying, ‘Roman and I will be so happy here.’”

  Cadre Film co-owner Gene Gutowski, his wife Judy, Polanski, and Sharon Tate moved in mid-1967 to the place Sharon so glowingly approved.

  Actor Brian Aherne’s mansion was located on Ocean Front Highway, at 1038 Palisades Beach Road. Its chief allure was the fact that actor Cary Grant had once lived there with his friend Randolph Scott. Overlooking Santa Monica Beach, it featured a walled garden with a corner tower and a swimming pool. The mansion had a history: it had been built in the 1920s for silent screen siren Norma Talmadge. An important feature was that the house had many rooms suitable for putting up the wide assortment of guests attracted by Sharon’s and Roman’s openness.

  Actress Joanna Pettet was a houseguest at the mansion. In an interview with the author, she said, “When I came to California to do a film called Blue with Terence Stamp, we were in Moab, Utah most of the time, on location, but we came back to do a few shots that they hadn’t got, at Paramount Studios. So, I stayed with Roman and Sharon at Cary Grant’s house in Malibu that they rented. The one thing they went on about was, ‘It’s Cary Grant’s house.’”

  The Summer of Love

  What a summer of fun, surprise, and good vibes! They called it the Summer of Love, during which, throughout the nation, young people celebrated psychedelia, rock and roll, the wearing of primary colors, communal living, hitchhiking, traveling around in brightly colored vans and converted school buses, sexual experimentation, and the use of pot and LSD. The seeds of the Summer of Love were planted during the Great Human Be-In at Golden Gate Park in San Francisco on January 14, and the prototype outdoor music event, the Monterey Pop Festival June 16–18—featuring Jimi Hendrix, The Who, Ravi Shankar, Janis Joplin, and Otis Redding. On June 25, the Beatles sang “All You Need Is Love” live to a worldwide audience of four hundred million over the BBC, thanks to the “Early Bird,” “Lana Bird,” and ATS-1 satellites. Another great Beatles song, “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds,” which many considered an anthem to LSD, was on everybody’s turntable. It seemed as if peace and love might overcome violence—except, well, there was the ever-continuing war in Vietnam, with President Lyndon Johnson in August sending 45,000 additional troops, adding to the 464,000 already there. Also, during the summer of 1967 there were riots, beginning in late June in Buffalo, and then in Newark in July, where 26 died, 1,500 were injured, and 1,000 arrested. Detroit caught fire on July 23, in a wave of destruction which killed 43 and left whole sections destroyed for the next forty years and beyond.

  So while “flower power” and Sharon and Roman’s friend John Phillips’s tune, “If you’re going to San Francisco, be sure to wear some flowers in your hair” suffused one part of the American psyche, war and violence commanded another.

  During the Summer of Love, Sharon and her boyfriend Roman adopted the cutting-edge style for the year that was known in the media as “rich hippie.” Sharon was famous among friends for her cool hashish brownies and her calmness and sweetness, and out in public for her micro-micro miniskirts.

  The summer of 1967 saw the release of the first film in which Sharon had a starring role. It was not Eye of the Devil from 1965, nor The Fearless Vampire Killers, but rather it was Don’t Make Waves. There was much publicity focusing on Sharon as Malibu, queen of the surfers. The lobbies of theaters were festooned with life-sized cardboard photos of Sharon in a polka-dot bikini.

  Filming of Rosemary’s Baby

  I like a good scare in the theater. . . . I know that I’ve had many great moments watching horror movies.

  —Roman Polanski

  Polanski later contended that he had wanted Tate to star in this tale about a young Manhattan woman who gradually discovers that she has been tricked by her husband into having a child with the Devil, and had hoped that someone would suggest her, as he felt it inappropriate to make the suggestion himself. The producers did not suggest Tate.

  There were ten days of filming in New York City. Sharon was a frequent visitor to the film set. She gave ideas for some of the scenes, including the one in which Rosemary is impregnated. She also appeared uncredited as a guest in a party scene. She was photographed on the set by Esquire magazine and the resulting photographs generated considerable attention both for the film and for Tate.

  During the filming, Sharon became friends with Mia Farrow. Roman and Sharon accompanied Mia and Frank Sinatra to dinner on several occasions. Mia remembered that Sharon and Roman took her in and made her part of their high-flying group of pals. “She was like a princess in a fairy tale. As kind as she was beautiful,” Farrow later commented.

  Director Roman Polanski filmed the exteriors for Rosemary’s Baby at the Dakota; however, the interiors were created in a Hollywood soundstage, because the Dakota does not allow filming inside. The Dakota is a landmark building, built circa 1881–1884, and located at 1 West 72nd Street, just off Central Park. Its designer was Henry J. Hardenbergh, who managed elegantly to combine German Gothic, French Renaissance, and English Victorian styles. Its brick and sandstone walls are adorned with balconies, corner pavilions, and terra-cotta panels and moldings. It has a steeply pitched slate and copper roof featuring ornate railings, stepped dormers, finials, and pediments, perfect for an occult thriller.

  Polanski’s directorial style was firm, firm, firm. He gave forth a sense of authority and he knew what he wanted at each moment in great exactitude. He was demanding, sometimes abrupt and terse, even yelling and scoffing, but the proof was in the daily rushes. During the New York filming, Roman had a suite at the Essex House on Central Park South.

  Polanski was one of the first directors to use a video camera to help block scenes. Mia Farrow once described it in an interview with Tom Burke, who asked, “Did Roman Polanski rehearse Rosemary’s Baby, or if not how did he work?”

  Farrow replied, “We did some blocking. Then we got tired and started to play, because Roman had this machine, a home television taping machine, so we were all on home television and tha
t was fun. John Cassavetes and me and Roman, we made all kinds of silly television commercials. That was fun.”

  Filming continued in Los Angeles, and the meticulous Mr. Polanski saw the project fall behind schedule. Mia Farrow had agreed to take part in her husband Frank Sinatra’s new production, The Detective, but it became obvious that the schedule for Rosemary’s Baby was going to cut into The Detective.

  Mia painted her pink trailer on the Paramount lot with big letters, white, “PEACE” and “LOVE” plus a large flower with a smiling face. Roman also painted images on Mia’s Love trailer. It was appropriate—after all it was the far-famed Summer of Love which saw brightly painted hippies, some holding sticks of burning incense, flock to big cities, holding Be-Ins in places such as Central Park in New York City and Griffith Park in Los Angeles.

  During the filming of Rosemary’s Baby, Sharon and Roman socialized with Frank Sinatra and his young wife on weekends in Palm Springs at Frank’s luxurious compound with detached guest bungalows.

  Steve McQueen and his wife, Neile, lived in a house near the Sinatra compound, and Steve took Roman, Mia, and Sharon out one night in a Land Rover outfitted with oversized tires. Recounted Roman: “Then he proceeded to race across the desert in the total darkness, through clumps of scrub over bumps, into the occasional sickening void. I could hear what sounded like girlish giggles but later found out were squeals of genuine alarm. Steve McQueen was an old friend of both girls so I didn’t say anything, but the sight of Sharon’s bruises afterward convinced me that he was an asshole.”

  Twice in his autobiography Polanski expresses dislike of McQueen. As we have noted, McQueen in an interview late in his life stated, “Sharon was a girlfriend of mine. I dated Sharon for a while.” Is it possible that Roman was jealous of the attraction that may have existed between Sharon and Steve?