by Anne Edwards
Miller had to give away about seven eighths of the picture. The film’s partners were Milbak Productions, his own corporation, in which Marcus Loew II, his associate producer, and Richard Wallace were participants; Strand Productions, the organization that owned General Service Studios and was providing the studio’s physical facilities as their investment; Berthugh, Inc., owned by F. Hugh Herbert, creator of the character of Corliss Archer, who was sharing his interest with Howard Dimsdale, writer of the scenario; and United Artists. Shirley had been “given” a percentage, but was not a partner. The picture would have had to be a huge money-maker before Shirley could have received any additional revenue.*
After six months of work, Miller, despite bringing together all these factors, was asked to supply a male star to back up the investment before being given the go-ahead by the distributor. With no more points to trade, Miller had to find a name actor under contract to another producer, not an easy task with such a slim project. That he managed to sign David Niven was more luck and timing than ingenuity. Niven and his boss, Samuel Goldwyn, had been engaged in a battle of two strong wills for several months. Niven had been forced to do a picture (The Elusive Pimpernel) that he had not wanted to do, and had exhibited what he called “spoiled-brat behavior of the worst sort . . . idiotic, conceited, indefensible and unforgivable . . . Goldwyn, of course, had no further use for me and all the direst predictions came true . . . upon the completion of The Elusive Pimpernel, I was immediately loaned out to play the heavy in a Shirley Temple picture, a disastrous teen-age potboiler.”
The movie was called A Kiss for Corliss, and even while it was being filmed, Shirley recognized the folly of her judgment. The picture concerned the temporary love of an adolescent girl for a much married-and-divorced older man. The production-code administrators took exception to the extremities of the comedy, and demanded that the number of marriages in Niven’s past be reduced from six to three. What was known to the code men as “a disclaimer” was also introduced. A speech was written in which Shirley had to explain that despite her emotions, she “could never think of marrying a man [Niven] with all those wives.”
Selznick now loaned her to Warner Brothers for a two-picture deal, for which he received $100,000 upon the execution of his agreement and an equal amount upon the start of the second film. Additionally, during the twelve-week term of each picture, Selznick was to be paid $4,166.67 “on Thursday for services rendered during the week which ended on the immediately preceding Saturday.” He, in turn, issued a weekly check to Shirley for her original contract figure of $4,000.*
Six weeks after the completion of A Kiss for Corliss, Shirley drove out to Warner Brothers Studios in the San Fernando Valley to begin The Story of Seabiscuit (originally titled Always Sweethearts), with one of her early directors, David Butler, at the helm. Her role in this “biopic” about the famous racehorse Seabiscuit was that of an Irish colleen—the first time she ever had been required to use an accent for a character. As the niece of Seabiscuit’s trainer (Barry Fitzgerald) and the fiancée of the horse’s jockey (Lon McCallister), Shirley “rode the movie into the loser’s circle.”
But The Story of Seabiscuit seemed in the conceptional stage to fuse a number of proven box-office ingredients. Barry Fitzgerald was a popular star; equine Horatio Alger stories had always had great appeal; and Seabiscuit was one of the greatest horses ever to race in the United States. Jack Warner still had faith in the Temple name and believed that by reuniting her with David Butler, the man who had directed her in four of her most successful childhood movies—Bright Eyes, The Little Colonel, The Littlest Rebel and Captain fanuary—her former magic would be rekindled. But in the Fox years, Butler had always relied on Gertrude to bring out the sparkle in Shirley. Warner had not guaranteed Gertrude either expenses or salary as he had when Shirley had filmed That Hagen Girl. She was, perhaps, never aware that the team element of their relationship so instilled by her in her daughter had made it difficult for Shirley to interpret a role on her own. David Butler admitted that she had no animation in her performance. Recalling the films they had made when she was a child, he “found occasion to have Mrs. Temple called to the set” once he realized Shirley was not giving him the performance he needed. “With the mother there Temple and Butler seem to work with more confidence and speed,” Carlisle Jones, a Warner staff member, noted. Other members of the company, however, thought that Gertrude’s influence brought out a saccharin quality in Shirley’s performance. The woman who was able to bring sparkle to a small child simply did not have the resources to enhance a grown woman’s performance.
The opening sequences of the movie, supposedly set in the Kentucky bluegrass country, were actually filmed near the studio at Northridge Farms, a 110-acre establishment, originally developed and owned by Barbara Stanwyck and her agent, Zeppo Marx, and called Marwyck Farms. There, on April 23, during the second week of shooting, Shirley was given a party, primarily for press and newsreel coverage, for her twenty-first birthday. But Agar, Gertrude and George joined in the celebration, as did her old friend Mary Lou Islieb, who was working once again as her stand-in, and David Butler, who could recall her birthday parties at Fox. “I always work on my birthdays,” Shirley told Harry Brand. “I cut a cake, they take lots of pictures, and then I go back to work.” Agar, who had the day off from filming I Married a Communist at RKO (co-starring Robert Ryan and Laraine Day), smiled lovingly down at her as she cut the cake, and the cameras whirred.
Shirley had no problem picking up the Irish brogue required for her character (Arthur Shields, Fitzgerald’s brother, was her coach). But she seemed unable to bring any depth to her part. After the first cut of the film was seen by Warner and the staff on August 7, John Taintor Foote, the scriptwriter, memoed Warner immediately: “The weakest part of the picture . . . are the love scenes. They needed a sensitive capable actress. In the hands of Shirley Temple . . . they are insipid . . . Any legitimate shortening of them will help.”
Shirley’s contract called for a second film, Pretty Baby, to follow. A few weeks after the completion of The Story of Seabiscuit, she was notified that Betsy Drake had been cast in Pretty Baby. A Kiss for Corliss was released on October 19, 1949, and The Story of Seabiscuit on December 7. Both received devastating reviews. C. A. Lejune, the film critic for the London Sunday Observer, responded in imperfect rhyme:
Sometimes I think that David Niven
Should not take all the parts he’s given.
While of the art of Shirley Temple,
I, for the moment have had ample.
Her marriage had reached an impasse by the end of the summer. Agar refused to recognize that he had a drinking problem. A few days before Thanksgiving, Shirley’s lawyer, Grant Cooper, greeted Agar when he returned home late one night. Shirley and the baby were with George and Gertrude. “He [Cooper] told me to leave the house with my personal posessions only,” Agar recalls. “I wanted to see Shirley but he refused to allow it. . . . I tossed some clothes in a suitcase and left.” Agar spoke to Shirley on the telephone, but she would not see him, and on December 5, after a five-day thinking-through period in Palm Springs, she went to court to testify in the divorce action.
Agar was in Buffalo, New York, on a publicity tour to coincide with the release of I Married a Communist when—her hair coifed perfectly, her makeup discreet but artfully applied—Shirley Temple Agar entered the courtroom of Superior Judge Roy L. Herndon, wearing a chic gray suit, a small navy-blue veiled pillbox hat, impeccable white gloves and, about her collar, a silk scarf looped through a lucky-coin charm. Tears rimmed her eyes as she took the oath and glanced over to her father, who had accompanied her.
“When I was two months pregnant, he came home intoxicated at 2 A.M. He had lipstick on his face. When I was five months pregnant, he came home with a group of people, brought another girl into my bedroom, and asked me to go to a party with them. He left without me and didn’t come back till 4 A.M.” She told her lawyer, Grant Cooper, “After the baby wa
s born he brought another girl with him [to their home] and danced with her in our playroom for two hours, kissing her many times.” She added that he often became “very drunk and belligerent,” and then tearfully admitted to a shocked and crowded courtroom that one night he had come home so drunk and abusive that, terrified, she had “jumped” into her “car and was going to drive over a cliff or something.”
Agar’s attorney, Clore Warne, rose to his feet at this point. “I feel I should say that when the differences arose—and they did arise—[Mr. Agar] acted at all times and has acted as a gentleman . . .”
Judge Herndon replied, “The court views your remarks as not inappropriate.” He then granted the divorce, and the right for Shirley to revert to her maiden name, but not before delivering a short speech to the packed courtroom.
“This court cannot fail to take notice of the well-known fact that this plaintiff occupies a special place in the hearts and affections of millions of people . . . throughout the country. Therefore, this appears to be a peculiarly fitting and appropriate reason upon which to reassert and re-declare the vital public concern with the problem of divorce and the urgent need for giving serious study to the environmental and sociological factors which contribute to it.
“We all know that the integrity of the family lies at the very foundation of the welfare, tranquillity and good order of our society. Accordingly, this court is faithful to the declared and established policy of this state, that no divorce shall be granted except upon grounds which our law recognizes as sufficient.
“Fairness to this plaintiff . . . requires this court to declare that the evidence which has been offered here, the plaintiff's demeanor, and the very evident sincerity with which she testified have convinced the court the grounds . . . are serious and substantial . . . but also that the plaintiff has made every reasonable effort to save her marriage and to avoid necessity for this proceeding.”
Shirley was given custody of Linda Susan, twenty-two months old, together with one hundred dollars a month child support. Under an out-of-court property settlement, Agar had agreed to pay over his half of all community property in a trust fund for the child. The house had always been in Shirley’s name. But, in effect, this meant that Agar would be left without a cent. Shirley would have 50 percent of all their bank accounts, investments and property, furniture and household goods, and Linda Susan would have, in trust, the remaining half. Agar went out of the marriage as he had entered it—with no money and a car. He did have a career, some good and bad publicity and a small daughter.
“As usual,” Agar told reporters in Buffalo in a low voice, “there are two sides to the controversy. There is much I might have said and might say now. However, as I see it, no constructive purpose could be served by recriminations or airing our respective sides in public.” He did add that Shirley’s testimony in winning the divorce “reflects incorrectly our real differences.”
He returned to Los Angeles for Christmas, staying at his mother’s home. He saw Linda Susan (whom the Temples now called Susan), but Shirley would not discuss the divorce or a possible reconciliation with him. “She had a way of walling herself in, of being indifferent to all sides but her own, of simply being, ” one friend comments.
The new year appeared bleak and empty. Her marriage had ended. The devastating reviews and financial failure of her last two films made her future in pictures doubtful. However, she was, at twenty-one, the enormously wealthy woman Gertrude and George had promised she would be. But had Gertrude also realized that such a large, lifetime income of her own would finally permit Shirley the freedom she had always wanted, enabling her to leave Rockingham Road, the converted playhouse, Hollywood and little Shirley Temple behind forever?
Footnotes
* Margie and Mother Was a Freshman were also shot on location at the University of Nevada.
*Winton C. Hoch, the cinematographer on She Wore a Yellow Ribbon, won the Academy Award.
*The corporation formed for this film was eventually to file for bankruptcy. In 1952, a permanent injunction was placed on its release to television.
*Selznick’s contract with Temple guaranteed her four thousand dollars weekly for forty weeks in each calendar year. She had to make $160,000 yearly in outside films to reimburse his legal obligation to her. The contract covered a seven-year period (1944–51). Selznick no longer had his studio, and Selznick International was now owned by Vanguard Films, which, however, remained in his control. Selznick’s loan-out agreement for Temple with Warner gave him the “right from time to time . . . to discuss such aspects of the production of each picture and to make such suggestions in connection therewith . . . with [Jack] Warner, the producer, the director, the artist and the cameraman.” Warner was not “obliged to adopt them.” However, Selznick never went on record as having monitored the contracted films in any stage of their production.
On Her Own
11 “YOU CAN TAKE all the sincerity in Hollywood, place it in the navel of a fruit fly and still have room for three caraway seeds and the heart of a producer,” dour-faced comedian Fred Allen once proclaimed. To which columnist Erskine Johnson added, “Hollywood [is a place] where everyone is a genius until he’s lost his job.”
Shirley’s contract with Selznick was still in effect. A compulsive but gentlemanly gambler, Selznick would never welch on a wager. When he had signed Shirley at the time of Since You Went Away, the odds favored a good return for his investment. The year to come, the last of Shirley’s contract with Selznick, would cost him $160,000 unless he could cast her in one of his own pictures or a loan-out, but no offers for her services were forthcoming. Nor were any likely, after her recent disastrous movies. Yet Selznick had still maintained his early enthusiasm for her more mature career, although he was far too involved in his private life to concentrate on finding a property for Shirley. The previous July, he and Jennifer Jones had been married, and throughout the year had been “seeing” Europe. “I was tired,” he wrote. “I had been producing . . . for more than twenty years. I wanted to do some of the traveling that I had completely denied myself during my long concentration on work in Hollywood.”
More than his own pleasures were at stake. Although it had been responsible for the successful American distribution of both The Fallen Idol and The Third Man, Selznick’s company owed twelve million dollars in bank loans, and he feared that if he “continued to produce for a rapidly declining market [caused by competition from television] the debt would grow.” As he toured Europe, he negotiated to sell foreign distribution rights on the pictures he had already made, the only avenue he saw to raise the money to pay off his huge debts.
Shirley’s salary was a minor liability compared to his other commitment.* He urged Shirley “to take her daughter to Europe, to study the culture, the repertory companies, become a mature actress, and even change her name.” But Shirley had neither curiosity about Europe nor a desire to continue as an actress. She had worked almost steadily for eighteen years, had made fifty-seven movies, and had been on display and photographed without much relief on a nearly consecutive daily basis over that long span. The divorce suit against Agar had been the killing blow. The codes Gertrude had taught her were strict. In the way of British royalty, family privacy was to be guarded assiduously. Public exposure of her marital problems and Agar’s drinking were as close as she had ever come to scandal. Shirley, like Selznick, was “tired” of gossip, work, pressures and the unpleasant memories Hollywood represented. Aware of Shirley’s restlessness, Gertrude suggested a compromise with Selznick’s advice: a trip to Hawaii—dear vacationland of her daughter’s childhood—just Gertrude, George, Shirley, the baby and her nanny. Not one to brood on the past, Shirley agreed.
The Temples flew (Shirley’s first air flight) to Hawaii, departing on Sunday, January 30, 1950, Susan’s second birthday. Los Angeles was deluged by seasonal rains on the day they left, but the skies soon cleared. More than three thousand “shouting, pushing persons” at Honolulu Airport “roared a
welcome.” When Shirley disembarked with Susan in her arms at 9:05 that night, they were greeted with “the most enthusiastic ‘Aloha!’ in the airport’s history.” The traditional leis were hung about their necks and Shirley shouted back “Aloha!” with a broad smile. Not one reporter asked about the divorce. Shirley fielded innocuous questions about her vacation plans and recalled her earlier visits. “I feel,” she said, “as if I’ve come home.” Four Honolulu Airport policemen had to fight a path through the terminal to reach a waiting green Buick. The huge crowd surrounded the car, and it was ten minutes before the officers could make a clearing to permit her vehicle to depart.
A familiar landmark of the Honolulu skyline was the gigantic towering steel-and-cement pineapple, three stories high, that sat atop the Hawaiian Pineapple Company Building, owned by white-haired but spry James (Jim) Dole, who had entertained the Temples on earlier visits. Jim Dole employed a young assistant, Charles Black. Two days after Shirley’s arrival, Dole gave a dinner party in her honor, and the suavely handsome Black was one of the invited guests. “I really wasn’t very interested in meeting Shirley Temple,” Black recalled. “I was living a very full life of my own and—well, I just didn’t care. I had never seen a Shirley Temple movie in my life.” But Shirley countered, “It’s corny, but it’s all true. You know, some enchanted evening across a crowded room.” They were to meet again the following night at another dinner, this time at the home of novelist James Norman Hall, co-author of Mutiny on the Bounty.
Within two weeks, she knew she was in love. The Temples returned to Los Angeles as previously planned, and Shirley, Susan and the nanny moved into a rented beach house for an additional month.
