In the Company of Legends

by Joan Kramer

  DH Roger had gone upstairs to speak with Elizabeth and when he came down, he said she would like to ask a favor. Since she’ll already be on camera, she wondered if I’d mind shooting a Public Service Announcement she’d promised to do on behalf of AIDS research. I said I’d be happy to do it. He made a call to get the script sent by messenger.

  It was now 6 pm. Jose Eber, her hairdresser, came down and told us she was now getting made up.

  7 pm: No sign of her.

  8 pm: We were still waiting.

  9 pm: Elizabeth Taylor came downstairs.

  Her entrance was breathtaking; it felt like a scene from a movie. She was dazzling. Her eyes were indeed violet, and she was wearing a dark purple blouse that offset them perfectly. We were all surprised to see how short she was; she appeared to be no taller than five feet.

  JK and DH The messenger with the AIDS copy never arrived, which was a shame.

  But Elizabeth was eager to talk about Spencer Tracy, and she was still full of admiration for him. It was worth waiting all those days—plus an extra four hours.

  She recalled that in the films they made together, in which she played his daughter, Tracy called her “Kitten” and she called him “Pops.”

  “And we kept those names until the day he died,” she said. “If I was ever in trouble—or happy times—he would sense that I needed his big bear-like arms around me, and he would send me the most wonderful telegrams: always ‘to Kitten,’ and always signed ‘Pops.’”

  When we told Katharine Hepburn about that story, she said, “Hmph. ‘Pops and Kitten.’ Who do you think sent those telegrams?”

  Elizabeth Taylor during interview for The Spencer Tracy Legacy: A Tribute by Katharine Hepburn.

  Bel Air, CA, 1985. Authors’ collection.

  Cinematographer John Sharaf, David Heeley, Mary Bell Painten, and Joan Kramer with Katharine Hepburn and Susie Tracy preparing to shoot items from Spencer Tracy’s scrapbooks.

  Los Angeles, CA, 1985. Photograph by John Bryson, courtesy Bryson Photo.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Directing Kate

  DH That night in early December, as I lay in my bed at the Beverly Hilton Hotel, I was not sure that I’d be able to get any sleep. I’d been a television director for over twenty years, having started back when I worked for the BBC in London, but the next morning was to be my first time directing Katharine Hepburn, and I didn’t expect to get through it unscathed.

  It could be argued that my debut had come three months earlier in New York at her 49th Street townhouse, when we had taped a protection interview1. But that could hardly count as “directing Katharine Hepburn.” That test was to come early tomorrow at The Riviera Country Club, where MGM had once filmed scenes for the Tracy/Hepburn comedy, Pat and Mike.

  Our writer, John Miller, had adapted easily to Kate’s style, and we had gone over the script many times with her in New York before we left for Los Angeles. She always had some comments and suggestions—never anything major, and always improvements. It had been at one of our script meetings that she and I had our first difference of opinion. I knew this was going to be a new experience for her, and therefore possibly a challenge. Despite her more than sixty years as an actress, she had never hosted a television program, so I tried to make it seem as easy as possible. I reassured her that she would not have to memorize her lines.

  “Do you need glasses to see at a distance?” I asked.

  “No. I may be falling apart, but so far my eyes are fine. Why?”

  “There’ll be a teleprompter on the camera, so that when you look into the lens you’ll see the script right there, and it will run at whatever pace works for you.”

  “Hmmm,” she said. “Why don’t you stand next to the camera, and I’ll just talk to you?”

  “No, Miss Hepburn. It’s important that the viewers feel that you are speaking directly to them. You have to talk to the camera.” I felt very strongly about this, and would have fought her hard if she had resisted.

  “Oh,” she said. And that was that. Or so it seemed.

  Somehow I did get some sleep that night in Los Angeles, and was up well before dawn for our shoot on the golf course at The Riviera Country Club. There had been storms the previous couple of days, and we’d seen reports on television of high winds knocking down trees and power lines. Fortunately the weather had calmed down somewhat overnight and the sun was trying to peek through as we drove to the location, but it was a brisk, chilly morning.

  Kate knew her golf, and had already warned me that we had to get our shot before the first player of the day teed off. “It’s dangerous out there, and we’ll be like sitting ducks,” she said, referring to some of the less than expert golfers who might be up early. “If a ball comes our way, we’ll all get killed.”

  We had a small crew: our cameraman, John Sharaf, and his assistant, who also helped with the lights; a soundman, John Vincent, who had worked with us many times before; a prompter operator; and our production team: Cindy Mitchell, our associate producer; Mary Bell Painten, our West Coast co-ordinator; and Don Shump, who had been hired by Cindy as a runner/production aide. We all met at the clubhouse, and then made our way to the spot a few hundred yards away where we could get the shot we needed, planned to match a scene in Pat and Mike.

  David Heeley and crew setting up on The Riviera Country Club golf course.

  Los Angeles, CA, 1985. Authors’ collection.

  JK The first thing that comes to mind when I remember that day is how cold and windy it was. Both of us hate the cold, though I think that I’m even more sensitive to it than David is. But serious golfers don’t seem to mind it. In fact, as we were setting up, I noticed Dean Martin, one of the club’s many famous members, walking towards the main building. It wouldn’t be long before he appeared on the course, ready to play eighteen holes with some friends.

  Soon after we arrived, Cindy and I went back to the clubhouse to wait for Hepburn. Only a few minutes later, she came through the door of the lobby, followed by her makeup artist, Michal Bigger; Ray Gow, her hairdresser; and her driver, Hilly.

  As I greeted them, Michal said to me, “The family always travels together.” However, Phyllis Wilbourn, Hepburn’s assistant, had been left behind to “guard” Hal Wallis’ house and art collection.

  Kate was wearing the tan raincoat, red scarf, black sweater and beige slacks that would be her outfit for all the exterior shots. She said “Hello” to everyone, and then turned to her makeup artist.

  “I need a mirror, Michal,” she said. “You only have a small one, don’t you? I need something bigger.”

  Cindy and Michal and Ray ran into the ladies’ room, the men’s room, the locker room, frantically searching for a large, yet portable mirror. In the meantime, Hepburn noticed the round marble table in the center of the lobby, holding a very big vase filled with fresh flowers. Under it was a circular mirrored top. Before anyone could blink, she began to try moving the vase in order to get to the mirror.

  “This’ll be fine,” she said.

  “Miss Hepburn, you can’t take that,” said the flustered receptionist.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll bring it back when we’re finished.”

  At that moment, the Riviera Golf Club manager suddenly appeared carrying a large mirror.

  Kate yelled, “Bravo. Bravo! I’ll use that one instead.”

  She took the mirror from the manager, and walked through the back door of the clubhouse, down the steps, and onto the golf course. Cindy ran after her and offered to carry it.

  “No, no. I can do it myself. Don’t worry. I’ve got a good grip,” she insisted.

  It was reminiscent of when she was filming The African Queen in the Belgian Congo. She wore a period costume for that picture and knew she had to have a way of seeing how she looked before the camera rolled. So she found a full-length mirror, and carried it with her throughout the entire location shoot. When it broke, she kept what was left of it, propping it up against the nearest tree.

&nbs
p; DH We’d been setting up for about forty-five minutes when I saw Kate heading towards us. I was to discover that whatever time she was scheduled to start, she’d be there early, wondering why everyone else was not ready yet. I went over to say “Good morning,” and told her we only needed a few more minutes, then excused myself to go back and work with the crew.

  I’d just finished lining up the first shot, when I saw Joan walking towards me. And she had a very worried look on her face.

  “David, we have a problem. You’ve got to come and talk to Hepburn. She’s very upset.”

  I found Kate haranguing poor John Vincent.

  “If I’d known I had to wear one of these I would never have agreed to do this.”

  “OK, this is it,” I thought to myself. “The first test.”

  “What’s wrong, Miss Hepburn?” I asked.

  “It’s this,” she said, holding up the wireless microphone that John was trying to put on her. “They work in Spain, but they’re no good here. Never work. I don’t know why. They’re just useless.”

  It wasn’t the time to ask what was special about the microphones in Spain, but I’ve always wondered.

  “Unfortunately we have to use the radio mic to get the shot we need here,” I told her. “Can you just try it? If it doesn’t work, we’ll find some other way.” I had no idea what that other way would be, but I knew the most important thing was to bring some calm to the situation.

  “Well, just this once. But I don’t like it.”

  She then let John fit the battery pack and transmitter around her waist and hide the small microphone just inside her raincoat. She probably was also upset that the battery would protrude and make her look bulky, but I knew we could frame the shot in a way that it would not be seen.

  Moments later she was ready.

  “Where do you want me?”

  “Over here,” I told her, as we walked together towards her opening position. “You’ll start with the golf course in the background and then walk over here so that we can see the clubhouse behind you, just like the shot in Pat and Mike.”

  She seemed a bit more relaxed. But it was to be only a brief respite.

  “Before we try a run-through, let’s make sure that you can read the prompter from this position,” I told her.

  “Are you set?” I shouted to the prompter operator.

  “Ready when you are,” he replied.

  “OK, let’s go,” I said, and threw a cue to Katharine Hepburn.

  She peered at the camera which had the prompter screen mounted in front of the lens, paused and then peered again, this time with her hand extended above her eyes as though shielding them from the sun.

  “I can’t see a thing.”

  I knew I couldn’t move the camera, or I’d lose the shot of the clubhouse I needed. The only choice was to move her.

  “Try a few steps closer,” I said.

  “How many?”

  “You can come a good six feet; it’ll still work.”

  “Okay.”

  She walked a couple of paces forward, and I told the prompter operator to reset to the top of the script. She squinted towards the camera again. A pause.

  “It’s hopeless. I still can’t see a thing.” And this was the same person who had told me back in New York that she had no problem with her eyesight.

  It was the first set-up of our first day of shooting, and she couldn’t read the script. I was standing next to her, rather than at my usual position by the camera, and I knew I had only seconds to find a solution. We had spent much of the last three years trying to raise several hundred thousand dollars to make this program, and PBS had finally come through. Now it was looking as though everything could fall apart—including our careers. I had to get that, and other thoughts racing through my mind, out of the way, calm down Kate, and come up with something that was going to work. Frankly, there weren’t too many choices, and it was the most obvious one—perhaps the only one—that came to mind first.

  “Miss Hepburn, we can do this without the prompter. We’ve been through this part of the script many times already, and it doesn’t have to be word perfect. You are making two points here: this is the Riviera Country Club, where you and Spencer shot scenes for Pat and Mike, and you need to describe the characters the two of you played, so that we can get into a clip from the film. Just tell the story to the camera. You start here and walk over to the spot over there,” I told her, indicating her finishing mark.

  “Yes, but when I talk about what he and I played, you want me to say ‘You know the old cliché about opposites attracting.’ Now, is that meant to be a ‘double entendre?’”

  “No,” I said. “I just need enough words for the shot to reveal the clubhouse behind you. But if you’re not comfortable with the line, we can change it.”

  “OK,” she said. “Let’s try it.”

  “Quiet, everyone. Ready for rehearsal.” I said.

  I didn’t tell John Sharaf to roll tape, as this was to see if Kate could hit her marks as well as tell the story, and had only just reached my spot next to the camera when I realized that she had already started—without waiting for a cue from me. I turned to see her walking and talking, her stride deliberate and her voice strong.

  “This is the Riviera Country Club,” she said, pointing to the golf course. “It’s where Spence and I shot the picture, Pat and Mike…”

  She was full of confidence. And I noticed she used the line about opposites attracting, but changed the word “cliché” to “adage.” I wished we’d taped the rehearsal, not knowing that John Sharaf had indeed done so.

  “Cut!” I said. “That was great. Let’s do one more rehearsal.”

  “Go ahead and waste the film,” she said. “Why not just shoot it?”

  “Fine,” I said. “Let’s do it. Everyone set? Roll tape and… Cue!”

  She reached her final spot about halfway through, so I asked her to walk more slowly.

  “Why don’t you just make me walk further?” she said. She finished three takes, getting better each time. We completed the last one just as the golf balls started whizzing by.

  Now she was in great spirits. And the mood on the set had definitely changed.

  “How was it?” she asked me.

  “It was excellent,” I assured her. “We can do all the scenes like this. You did a terrific job.”

  It was only later that I realized what had gone on that morning. Hepburn was very nervous, probably even more than I was. She was doing something she had never done before: host a show. I was also asking her to break one of the golden rules she had learned early in her career; I wanted her to look directly into the lens of the camera, something she’d been taught never to do. Then add the teleprompter, which was something else new. Too many “firsts” all at once. In trying to overcome her nerves, she was giving everyone around her a hard time. Once she regained her confidence, we never looked back.

  We’d escaped death by flying golf balls, so we packed up, returned the borrowed mirror, and headed to our next location, which was outside Susie Tracy’s house, not very far from the Riviera Country Club.

  As we were unloading the equipment, I noticed that John Vincent had commandeered our production aide, Don Shump, to work as his assistant. John had found a broom handle and taped a microphone to the end, improvising a boom. Don was going to be his boom operator. Now there was no need for Hepburn to wear a wireless mic.

  By this time in the morning the sun was shining brightly, but there was still a chill in the air. Don was wearing a shirt and jeans, holding the new makeshift boom, just a few feet away from Kate, waiting for the shot to be lined up.

  “Young man, aren’t you cold?” she asked.

  “I’m really OK, thank you Miss Hepburn.”

  “No, you must be freezing,” she said. “Give me that thing,” as she grabbed the broom handle. “Go and get yourself a jacket. It’s awful to be cold.”

  JK It was a moment that few people noticed, but I had seen this aspect
of her character previously in New York. We had brought a crew to survey her house in preparation for taping there, and were all crowded into her second floor living room to discuss the practical aspects of the lighting, loading in equipment, etc. Everyone had found a seat except for one of the stagehands, who was standing near the door.

  Kate noticed, and said, “Just a minute.” She went to the next room, and a few seconds later, came back carrying an upholstered chair, which she placed within the circle among the rest of us, motioning to him to sit down.

  He said, “Thank you, Miss Hepburn, but you didn’t have to do that.”

  “Yes, I did,” she said. “No one should ever be uncomfortable in this house.”

  DH Once we had overcome the problems at the Riviera Country Club, Kate was nothing but supportive and helpful. She never balked at doing multiple takes. If a member of the crew said something to me that she couldn’t hear, she’d say, “What’s wrong? If something didn’t work, let’s do it again.” And when we were shooting a sequence that included both her and Susie Tracy, Susie asked if she could watch a playback of it.

  “No, Susie. Don’t do that,” Kate said. “They have to be ruthless. They’re looking for things you and I won’t see. You must trust them.”

  She had told us that early in her career, she always went to the “dailies” (the ritual screening of the previous day’s filming) until she realized that she was concentrating on such things as whether her collar was high enough to hide signs of her own aging, rather than looking at the bigger picture of whether the scene was working as a whole. From that point on she decided not to watch herself, and trust the director.

  David Heeley and Katharine Hepburn discussing her first scene on the MGM lot. Culver City, CA, 1985. Photograph by John Bryson, courtesy Bryson Photo.

  JK The second day of taping was at MGM in Culver City. The studio gave her a dressing room, just one floor below the one she’d had back in the 1940s. We decorated it with red roses, a bottle of champagne, fresh fruit and Godiva chocolates.