Barbara “nearly went crazy” over the sorrow from Millie’s death. “Where the hell am I going to go from here?” she said.
It was just the three Stevenses now: Maud, at forty-three years old, in Flatbush; Byron, twenty-six, recuperating from tuberculosis in Arizona; and Ruby, at twenty-three, making pictures in Hollywood.
• • •
Barbara and Fay rarely entertained and refused most invitations. Fay often became annoyed with Barbara’s friends and didn’t want her to go out. The Fays were thought of as reclusive, and people resented their standoffishness.
Barbara’s deep feelings of loss for Millie, as with the death of Mabel the year before and those of her mother and father so long ago, coupled with Hollywood’s fickleness that made her so angry, fueled her desire to carve her way against all circumstances. “The trouble is I so love a good fight,” she said. “I just can’t help it.”
Barbara “got to thinking one day,” soon after Millie’s death, “about how much money Constance Bennett was making and Ann Harding and people like that,” she said. Constance Bennett had signed with Warner for a large sum of money, as had Ruth Chatterton; Ann Harding had just renewed her contract at Pathé for an equally large salary. “Good for Ann,” said Barbara. “She’s a wonderful person and a grand actress.” Barbara concluded that the reason she wasn’t making that kind of money was because she hadn’t asked for it.
Columbia Pictures was to pay Barbara $20,000 for her next film, Forbidden. This at a time when more than thirteen million Americans had lost their jobs.
Frank Capra had discussed with Barbara in detail the story of Forbidden. She was delighted with it and with the opportunity to have such an unusually fine part. Now that Barbara’s pictures with Columbia were successful, and the studio had exercised all of its options without increasing her salary, she decided to call Harry Cohn and remind him of their agreement.
Barbara had come to Hollywood with a written contract and a verbal understanding. “I [was to] be paid more money if I proved popular with movie fans,” she said. “I had had such verbal agreements with New York stage producers, and I never experienced difficulty.”
Before the conversation with Cohn went far, Barbara got angry.
“Fifty thousand dollars a picture,” Barbara said to Cohn, “or I won’t work.”
“You have a contract,” Cohn told her, and she had to live up to it.
“Listen, I don’t have to do anything,” Barbara said to Cohn. “And nobody can tell me I do.”
Fay told Barbara that she “couldn’t go around tearing up contracts,” that the studio would sue her. “You’ll have to stick to it,” said Fay. “And fight the suit. You can’t win, you know. You shouldn’t win. But you’ll have to fight. When will you learn not to do things like that?”
Consequences didn’t stand in Barbara’s way.
Like Sister Fallon in The Miracle Woman, Barbara was a young woman living surrounded by con artists. “In the theatre we had our sharpees,” said Jim Cagney. “But when you got to Hollywood you knew you had arrived in the big league for con men and frauds.”
There was a fragility in Barbara as well as an unworldliness. Her attitude toward Harry Cohn and most of Hollywood was Sister Fallon’s: “I’m going to get up there and read you my father’s last sermon and then I’m going to tell you sons of bitches what I think of you. And if you walk out of the church, so what? I don’t care. Damn the consequences.”
Barbara said nothing more to Cohn about the salary increase.
Each day she went to Columbia and worked with Capra on costumes, wigs, and makeup for Forbidden: her character was to age from a twenty-five-year-old to a sixty-year-old. Columbia had hired a special makeup artist—Monte Westmore—to design the look of the aging process.
Sam Briskin, Columbia’s assistant general manager, told Barbara that shooting would start within the week. She was ready to report on whatever date he gave her. Three days later, Barbara called Briskin’s office. Briskin called her back an hour later. Barbara got on the phone and said, without any small talk, “I’m not doing the picture.” Briskin was surprised. After a moment, he asked, “What in the world are you talking about?”
“I mean exactly what I say. I will not do the picture unless you pay me $50,000. It is nothing against Columbia,” said Barbara. “I have simply decided that no matter who the producer is, I will not appear in a picture for anybody unless I get $50,000 for my services. You can talk it over with Mr. Cohn and let me know.”
Briskin said there was nothing to talk over. Barbara was under contract to Columbia, and, he said, “we expect you to live up to the contract and perform your services for us. I think it extremely unfair,” he went on, “for you to take such an attitude only a couple of days before we are to start production on a picture when there’s been such extensive preparation and so much money has been spent.”
Columbia so far had spent $50,000 getting ready to start production.
“Well, think it over and you can let me know later,” said Barbara.
Briskin told Capra that Barbara was refusing to do the picture. Capra was stunned. Having made extensive plans and devoted his best energies in preparation for the picture, he was “greatly disappointed. Barbara is the only actress,” he said, “who could perform this part to my satisfaction.”
Later that day, Columbia drew up a letter that said the studio expected Barbara to report on July 20 for the start of Forbidden; it “expected her to perform her services according to her contract.”
Briskin called Barbara two days later to ask if she’d decided to come to work and do the picture. “My mind is made up,” she said. “Unless I get $50,000 for the picture, I won’t appear in it and that’s all there is to it.”
• • •
Night Nurse premiered in New York City at the Strand on Barbara’s twenty-fourth birthday, July 16, 1931. Of the movie The New York Times wrote, “Barbara Stanwyck’s quiet charm and rare trouping evidence themselves from time to time. Like The Public Enemy, [Night Nurse] has an air of repellent fascination . . . [W]hile condemning Wellman for what he chooses to palm off as entertainment, it would be unfair not to recognize his uncanny ability for creating realistic drama out of environment. Even a slugger may be an artist with a blackjack.” The review singled out Clark Gable’s “brutally sinister” portrayal of the “chauffeur-baron.”
Moviegoers wanting to see Night Nurse at the Strand formed lines around the block.
The critic for the Los Angeles Evening Herald described Barbara as “one of the most natural actresses [on] the screen” and said that she “delivers another of her superb performances.” Clark Gable was described as “one of the screen’s biggest moment[s] at the present time, [with] a small but vital part.”
Barbara watched Gable emerge from Night Nurse as a star from his small role as Nick, the chauffeur. On the picture’s first day in New York at the Strand, the theater marquee read: “NIGHT NURSE STARRING BARBARA STANWYCK.” “The second day,” said Barbara, “the marquee read, ‘NIGHT NURSE Barbara Stanwyck Co-starring Clark Gable.’ The third night,” she said, “it read ‘NIGHT NURSE Barbara Stanwyck Clark Gable.’ ”
• • •
Fay and Barbara ran into Capra at the Brown Derby Café in Hollywood, and Capra told Barbara he was personally hurt that she’d refused to do the picture. “I consider it a reflection of my own ability as a director,” he told her.
“There’s nothing personal about it,” said Barbara. “I have great respect for you as a director, but I’ve made up my mind that unless I’m paid $50,000 I won’t appear in any more motion pictures.”
“You can tell Cohn and Briskin,” Fay said to Capra, “that if Columbia cancels its option for the other pictures, Barbara will do this picture for nothing.”
“Absolutely,” Barbara said, “and I will even work until six o’clock every day.”
Capra reported the conversation to Cohn and heard nothing else from Barbara, who was scheduled to report
to the studio on July 20. Barbara stood firm and didn’t show up.
A few days after the premiere of Night Nurse, Frank Fay emceed the opening of The Miracle Woman at the Orpheum in Los Angeles, telling the audience that vaudeville was making a big comeback and that he, Fay, was there not because of Columbia but because of his regard for RKO, owner of the Orpheum chain of theaters.
The critics called The Miracle Woman “Miss Stanwyck’s most effective role”; “Capra can do more with Miss Stanwyck than any other director she has worked with . . . her performance is splendid in unfolding plenty of fire, balanced by undertones of instinctive character softness and mood.”
Cohn was furious about his star’s demands and announced to the press that Barbara Stanwyck was in breach of contract and that she couldn’t work for Warner Bros. until she finished her picture for Columbia. Her contract with Columbia was due to expire in a month, on August 14, and, contract or no contract, Cohn said, Barbara was not legally allowed to work for Warner until she completed her picture for his studio.
Night Nurse and The Miracle Woman were both doing well at the box office. Each was mentioned in Photoplay’s Best Pictures of the Month along with DeMille’s Squaw Man and von Sternberg’s An American Tragedy. Photoplay singled out Barbara for both pictures in its Best Performance of the Month.
Stories in the press announced that Barbara was returning to New York, that she was leaving pictures forever now that Frank Fay’s contract was not being renewed, and that she would go wherever Fay went. Barbara was quoted as saying that she was “overworked, turning out picture after picture on the double contract,” and that her doctor told her she could not last another year without a complete collapse if she kept it up. Barbara’s lawyer, Charles Cradick, denied the stories. Barbara made it clear that neither she nor Fay was through in pictures.
The press wrote about her as “barbaric,” as defined by the dictionary: “rudely splendid, striking, picturesque,” and called her “splendidly rude.”
Harry Cohn offered Barbara’s part in Forbidden to Helen Hayes, who refused it. He then decided to abandon Forbidden. Frank Capra went to work instead on Gallagher, a newspaper picture originally to be directed by the actor and writer Eddie Buzzell.
The press continued to cover the Frank Fays and their troubles: Fay was accused in print of being the force behind Barbara’s unreasonable demands with Columbia and of being jealous of his wife’s success, of trying to persuade her to leave Hollywood with him and go back to vaudeville. Barbara’s response: if she were ever forced to choose one or the other—her career or her marriage—she would “turn to her husband without a moment’s hesitation.”
Barbara received a letter from the publisher of a trade paper for motion picture exhibitors called Harrison’s Reports telling her that “many of the exhibitors have bought the Columbia program with the understanding that they were going to get two pictures with you as the star . . . [The exhibitors] will not get what they bargained for. And they have no redress . . . I don’t know what your troubles with the Columbia production executives are. But I don’t believe they are such as can not be adjusted so that innocent persons may not suffer.”
Barbara responded in a telegram:
I ASKED FOR FIFTY THOUSAND A PICTURE FOR MY THREE REMAINING PICTURES . . . STOP . . . [COLUMBIA] REFUSED . . . STOP . . . I THEN OFFERED TO MAKE THE FIRST PICTURE FOR THIRTY FIVE THOUSAND AND SECOND FOR FIFTY AND THE THIRD FOR FIFTY FIVE AND I WOULD MAKE ONE PICTURE FOR TWENTY THOUSAND IF COLUMBIA WOULD RELEASE ME FROM MAKING THE LAST TWO PICTURES STOP I BELIEVE THIS IN VIEW OF ALL CONDITIONS TO BE FAIR TO ALL PARTIES AND UNLESS COLUMBIA COMPLIES WITH MY REQUEST I WILL NEVER APPEAR IN A COLUMBIA PICTURE AGAIN STOP KINDEST.
During one of Barbara’s heated arguments with Cohn, he let it be known that without Fay’s belief in her and his persistence she wouldn’t even be on the screen.
“What do you mean?” Barbara asked.
Cohn told her what Fay had kept from her for years, that after Mexicali Rose, Fay had offered to pay Barbara’s salary if Cohn would give her another chance. Cohn had told Fay that she’d spoil any picture she was in.
“I tell you she’s a great emotional actress,” Fay had said to Cohn. “You take up the option and I’ll not only pay her salary, I’ll pay half the production cost.”
“That won’t make the picture any better,” Cohn had said. “I don’t want her for nothing. She’s rotten.”
“That’s a damned lie,” Barbara said to Cohn when she heard the story.
Cohn shrugged. “Ask him.”
Fay admitted the truth of the story. “I knew you had great stuff. I was afraid if Columbia fired you, you might never let go in front of a camera again.”
• • •
Night Nurse was a standout at the box office along with Dirigible, The Smiling Lieutenant, and A Free Soul. The Miracle Woman wasn’t faring as well, along with An American Tragedy, Daddy Long Legs, and Pardon Us, Laurel and Hardy’s first full-length picture.
Louella Parsons wrote in the Los Angeles Examiner:
This town of supreme sophistication and hardboiled philosophy has been busy analyzing the Barbara Stanwyck case. A scattered few think it just sweet that Barbara is willing to give up a flourishing career for her husband. The more thoughtful, practical souls are frankly worried over the future of the little red-haired girl who is so content to bask in the shadow of Frank Fay’s fame . . .
Frank was the fairhaired lad of Warners. He took his wife’s devotion as a matter of fact, as his due. Then . . . Frank was through and Barbara was sitting on top of the world, in demand by two studios and working picture after picture. If Frank Fay is as devoted to Barbara as she is to him, he will urge her to fulfill her contracts. I do not mean to imply that Frank Fay is selfish and self-centered. But from all I gather it is Barbara who is making all the sacrifices.
“If you only knew what [Fay] has gone through,” said Barbara in response, “helping me to finish what I started by myself—and then taking the blame for most of it.” Some of Barbara’s friends “cut me cold,” she said, “as if afraid to contaminate themselves by speaking to me.”
Fay’s picture Bright Lights was released and barely broke even. Despite that and Barbara’s own troubles, and Fay’s dislike of Hollywood, they were around town, even playing in the Los Angeles Tennis Club Pacific Southwest Tournament with the Clive Brookses, Bill Wellman and Marjorie Crawford, Richard Dix, Phillips Holmes, and William Powell.
Fay’s drinking was getting him into trouble with the law. While driving, he hit a man and his wife when his car drove across the white line, and he was later arrested on suspicion of driving while intoxicated.
With Frank Fay, arrested at home and booked at Central Police Station on charges of suspicion of drunk driving and a hit and run—driving on the wrong side of the road on Beverly Boulevard near Beverly Glen and crashing his car into another in midafternoon. He was released on $1,500 bail. August 1932.
He got into a fight with Eddie Mannix at the Brown Derby. Both men were separated by the state boxing commissioner, who happened to be dining with Fay. Fay’s anger and vindictiveness were well-known from his days in New York. When he had appeared in Harry Delmar’s Revels and the show ran into financial trouble, he decided to get rid of the producers and take it over himself. Billy Rose had yet to be paid any royalties and complained to the Dramatists Guild; the guild threatened to close the show if Fay didn’t pay Rose the $1,100 owed him. Fay went to the bank, got a sack filled with 110,000 pennies, brought it to Rose’s apartment, and emptied its contents on the floor of his living room.
Fay’s drinking was making him more violent. During one of his spells, Barbara called his doctor to ask him to come to the house to help her. When Dr. Willis arrived, Fay flew into an angry rage, got a large knife, and threatened to kill the doctor. He was so violent and unruly that Willis had him committed to the Osteopathic Hospital in Los Angeles. As soon as he was released, he began to drink again.
• • �
��
Warner Bros. was drawn into the fray between Barbara and Columbia Pictures. Warner’s official position was that Barbara would have to resolve her differences with Columbia before she could begin her new Warner contract. The studio issued a statement saying that it did not want to be in the same bind that Columbia was now in with actors breaking their contracts and demanding salary increases. Barbara’s refusal to work cost Columbia money in lost bookings and in preparations of other stories.
Capra lost four weeks before starting to direct Gallagher. Cohn was adamant about Barbara’s salary: the actress was under contract to make Forbidden for $20,000, and Cohn wasn’t going to let her arbitrarily demand and receive additional money, and certainly not an additional $30,000.
Despite Warner’s public stance with regard to her new contract, Barbara went into rehearsals for Safe in Hell. Columbia filed an application for an injunction saying that Barbara had jumped her contract to work for Warner Bros. and asked the court for a temporary restraining order preventing her from working for any company other than Columbia.
As part of the injunction, Columbia gathered the forces of many of the other studio heads, getting sworn affidavits from each, including Irving Thalberg, in charge of production at Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer; Louis B. Mayer, chief executive of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer; Joseph Schenck, managing head of United Artists Corporation; Winfield Sheehan, chief executive in charge of production at Fox Film Corporation; and Jesse Lasky, chief executive of Paramount Publix Corporation. Each affidavit, attached to the complaint for an injunction, stated that the deposed executive knew the work of Barbara Stanwyck and was familiar with her ability and how “it would be difficult, if not impossible, to successfully replace her.”
Barbara was twenty-four years old. Powerful men—the Hollywood establishment, except for Warner Bros.—were allied against her. Right or wrong, Barbara stood her ground and refused to concede.
An emissary from Columbia Pictures was sent to Malibu to reason with her. Barbara made it clear that if she didn’t get her price, she was quite contented to sit on the sands in front of her house with her two terriers. “What are you going to do, Miss Stanwyck, if the studios blacklist you for breaking your contract?” asked the studio representative. “You can’t go back to the theater because Wall Street is behind both stage and screen and you can’t go into radio because Wall Street has radio interests and wouldn’t let you.”
A Life of Barbara Stanwyck: Steel-True 1907-1940 Page 29
