In the Company of Legends

by Joan Kramer

  The crew met us shortly after dawn, and we were setting up in front of the famous Thalberg building when Hepburn arrived—early again, of course.

  “What are you going to do when it rains?” she asked.

  Unlike the day before, there was no blue sky to be seen, and the weather forecast promised showers.

  “It wouldn’t dare rain on you, Ms. Hepburn,” I said. I hoped I was right, since all the shots we had planned were exteriors.

  “I wouldn’t bet on it,” she said. “So let’s get going.”

  As it turned out, there was only one brief shower in Culver City that day, and it happened while we were all inside having lunch.

  DH She went off to her dressing room, and ten minutes later, was back and ready to shoot. But then John Vincent told me, “David, I can’t use the boom mic here. You’re taking such a wide shot there’s nowhere I can hide it. I don’t see any way around using the wireless mic again.”

  “OK, John. I’ll tell her,” thinking to myself that I wanted to get over this hurdle as quickly as possible.

  “Ms. Hepburn, we have a problem with this first shot.”

  “Yes, what is it?”

  “Well, it’s so wide that we can’t use the boom. The only way I can get it is with a radio mic.”

  She looked at me, but didn’t reply. Instead she walked over to John Vincent, who was standing just a few paces away.

  “Young man, you didn’t have the courage to tell me yourself, did you?” she said with a laugh. “If it’s better with that other microphone, you have to be mean to me.”

  We got the shot in two takes, just before the office workday started. Moments later, it would have been impossible to stop the traffic of executives and others entering the building.

  JK People at the major Hollywood studios are used to seeing actors—big stars, television series cast members, character actors, and extras galore; it comes with the job. But when word spread that Katharine Hepburn was shooting on the lot, many of them found a reason to come by our set; we even noticed that some were hanging out of windows to try to catch a glimpse of her. To ensure there were as few interruptions as possible, the studio assigned two security guards to be with us at all times.

  Around 10 am, not long after we had the first shot in the can, crews from Entertainment Tonight and CNN showed up. Suddenly there was a battery of lights, cameras, and microphones aimed at Hepburn, reminding me of old Hollywood. She had agreed to give them a brief statement about Spencer Tracy, but then the reporters started asking questions, and she was answering them. I was getting concerned that the questions could become too personal, and she might get upset.

  So was the MGM publicist, who told them, “OK. That’s it. We have to go now.”

  “Go where?” asked an annoyed Kate. I didn’t realize that she would have preferred to keep talking to them. But by now the publicist had already begun to usher them all away.

  Katharine Hepburn being interviewed by news crews.

  Culver City, CA, 1985. Photograph by John Bryson, courtesy Bryson Photo.

  Soon after the press had left, I received a message from our office in NY; a vice president of programming at HBO had called and left her number. I found a phone and returned the call.

  “Oh, Joan. Thank you for getting back to me. I know you pitched a show about Spencer Tracy to my head of programming here, and that we passed on the idea. I’d like to revisit it now. I assume Katharine Hepburn is still planning to host it.”

  I know I took perhaps an unreasonable amount of pleasure in telling her that it was now too late. “The ship has sailed,” I said. “We’re doing the program for PBS and Hepburn is indeed hosting it.”

  DH While the crew and I were moving to the next location, I saw Kate with Joan and about six others disappear through the big glass doors of the Thalberg building. It was only later that I found out where they were going.

  JK “I want to see L.B. Mayer’s office. C’mon,” said Hepburn.

  Like a mother duck leading her ducklings, we followed her inside and into the elevator. When it stopped on the executive floor, she marched into what used to be Louis B. Mayer’s office, now occupied by Frank Rothman, the Chairman and CEO of MGM. What happened next sounds like a scene from an old movie. As she continued to lead the charge, we passed Rothman’s secretary, whose mouth dropped open at the sight of this sudden invasion. Valiantly she tried to play gatekeeper, jumping to her feet, one arm outstretched, following the flow of the parade, as her voice faded while saying, “Oh, Miss Hepburn. I’m sorry but you can’t go in there.”

  It was too late. Kate had already burst through the door of Frank Rothman’s office, arm extended to shake his hand. “Hi, I’m Kate Hepburn. Where’s the table—the mahogany table that L.B. had in his office?”

  Understandably, he was startled, but quickly recovered his composure as he stood up behind his desk, shook her hand, and said, “Welcome back to MGM, Miss Hepburn. The table is right over there in the conference room.” He led us all in and asked us to sit down.

  She began to reminisce: “I remember four of us sitting around this table. Greta”—(I realized she had to be talking about Greta Garbo)—“sat there; I sat here; George Cukor sat next to me; and L.B. sat at that end. We were trying to sell him on the idea of letting Greta and me star in Mourning Becomes Electra2, which George would direct. Well, we didn’t get very far. We could tell right away that we were not heating up the room. So George nodded to me and Greta, and we got up and left. That was the end of that idea.” Katharine Hepburn and Greta Garbo in a movie together? Not the only time a studio head would miss a golden opportunity.

  Then, turning to me, she said, “Do you think David is ready? We’d better get back down there.” She shook hands with Rothman and his still-shell-shocked secretary, and back we all went into the elevator.

  DH She came down, but had to go right back up again, because our next shot was on the roof of the Thalberg building, where the only access was through an office on the top floor. When we did our technical survey, the office was empty. However, on this day, we discovered that it was occupied. And the occupant was another high-level executive, David Gerber, the head of MGM Television, who hadn’t been warned that we were about to invade his space. We and our crew, all the equipment, Hepburn, her assistant, Phyllis (who’d been temporarily allowed to abandon her post as guard of Hal Wallis’s art collection), her makeup and hair artists, and our MGM executive producer, George Paris, had to walk through David Gerber’s office, past his desk and out of his window as he was trying to conduct business as usual.

  JK Each time, Gerber was on the telephone, and each time he saw Hepburn, he said to the person he was talking to, “Please hold on a moment,” and then politely stood up to greet her as she walked by. It was almost a comedy routine, but he didn’t seem at all surprised or annoyed by the scene playing out in front of him. Then, about forty-five minutes later, after we finished shooting, the same thing happened all over again, as our small caravan walked past him on the way out.

  Months later, I asked George Paris if he ever talked to Gerber about that day and what he’d said to the people he’d put on hold.

  George said, “Oh yes. I saw him at the studio’s Christmas party and when I asked him that very question, he said, ‘I told them all the truth…Katharine Hepburn was climbing through my window.’

  “So I said, ‘What was their reaction?’

  “And he said, ‘No one believed me. They all thought I was pulling their legs.’”

  DH The shot I’d planned from the Thalberg building’s roof gave us a view of 20th Century Fox, where Spencer Tracy had been a contract player before he was hired by MGM. However, there was no fence or guardrail at the roof’s edge, just a low wall. And, not having a very good head for heights myself, I wasn’t going to ask Hepburn to get any closer to it than was comfortable for me, so I suggested she stand about three feet in. But as we were setting up, she said, “Wouldn’t it be better if I sat on the ledge?”


  “Possibly,” I said. “But I don’t want to risk losing the star.”

  “Oh, nonsense,” she replied dismissively, perching herself on the narrow parapet. “I can see tomorrow’s headlines: ‘Star Falls Off Roof of Thalberg Building—Or Was Pushed!’” she laughed.

  Katharine Hepburn on the roof of the Thalberg building.

  Culver City, CA, 1985. Photograph by John Bryson, courtesy Bryson Photo.

  JK Phyllis didn’t see any humor in the situation or in Kate’s cavalier attitude. She reacted with alarm: “Miss Hepburn, that’s dangerous. Be careful!”

  In fact, it was Katharine Hepburn who was concerned for the safety of Phyllis.

  “She’s got tunnel vision,” she told us. “We have to make sure she doesn’t fall over the cables.”

  DH There were two more set-ups before we broke for lunch. The first was a tracking shot along the side of the Thalberg building, leading into the second set-up, at a side entrance where Kate first met Spencer Tracy in 1941. She had requested him as her co-star in the movie, Woman of the Year, but had never actually met him until that day. She spotted him leaving the commissary with producer Joseph L. Mankiewicz, and made sure she ran into them. It’s a famous story that has been mis-told many times. This was her chance to set the record straight.

  Mankiewicz introduced them to each other, and the exchange that followed was about her height. She was about five-feet-seven inches, but appeared even taller because she was very slim and was wearing shoes with heels. Tracy was actually about five-ten and a bit stocky.

  “Sorry, I’ve got these high heels on,” she said. “But when we do the movie I’ll be careful about what I wear.”

  Tracy said nothing, just looking at her.

  It was Mankiewicz who responded: “Don’t worry, Kate. He’ll cut you down to his size.”

  “I didn’t know what to say,” Hepburn told us. “I just stood there like a goof.”

  She then walked out of the frame. But she had forgotten to tell the final part of the story. Instead of stopping the camera and asking for another take, I motioned for her to go back, silently mouthing to her the words “dirty nails.”

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you,” she improvised, popping back into the frame. “When they had departed, I rushed to Mankiewicz’s office.” She was eager to hear what Tracy had thought of her. Mankiewicz told her that Spencer’s only comment was, “Kate Hepburn has dirty finger nails.” She then held up her hands in front of the camera and said, “I still have.” It was typical of her to make fun of herself. But what I liked most was the way she turned a mistake into a moment that felt so natural and genuine. We did, of course, use that take in the show.

  JK The Directors Guild had contacted David to ask if he could persuade Hepburn to tape a brief statement for a tribute to the late Dorothy Arzner, one of the few women directors in the Hollywood of the 1930s, who’d directed Hepburn’s second film, Christopher Strong. Both of them raised eyebrows back then by wearing slacks instead of dresses.

  Kate told us, “I don’t want to disappoint the Directors Guild, so I’ll say something I hope they can use.” She ad-libbed the piece, praising Arzner, and did it in one take, ending with, “So you see that women weren’t always considered to be silly.”

  DH PBS also had a request: for Hepburn to do a Pledge spot, urging viewers to send donations to their local public television stations. I was reluctant to ask her, but she willingly agreed.

  Again ad-libbing most of it, during a rehearsal, she said, “It’s been my privilege and honor to do this program.”

  “Miss Hepburn,” I said to her. “That was very nice, but I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to say, ‘It’s a privilege and honor.’ We’re the ones who are privileged and honored that you’re doing this show.”

  “No, no,” she replied. “I want to say that because I really am privileged and honored, and the people watching should help support more programs like this.”

  We then rolled tape, and she used exactly the same words.

  That was the end of the day, and the end of our California shoot.

  I said, “Cut. That’s a wrap, everyone. Thank you very much.”

  JK Before the crew started packing up the equipment, we all gathered around her for a photograph, which we call the “graduation shot.” I gave her a red sweatshirt that had the MGM lion logo printed on the front, and she shook hands with each crew member, as we began a spontaneous round of applause.

  She did a curtsy and said, “You’ve all been very sweet to me. Thank you.”

  “Graduation photo” after shoot with Katharine Hepburn on the MGM lot.

  Culver City, CA, 1985. Photograph by John Bryson, courtesy Bryson Photo.

  The following morning, Hepburn called George Paris and asked if she could bring her friend, Cynthia McFadden, onto the lot to show her around. (At the time, McFadden was still a budding journalist; now she is the Senior Legal & Investigative Correspondent for NBC News, and also a co-executor of Katharine Hepburn’s Estate.) George Paris told us that he accompanied them to each location we’d used, and that Kate relived the previous day saying, “Here’s where I said….” and then recited portions of the script. We didn’t meet Cindy until some three months later, when she gave us her own recollections of that day, and told us that Kate had clearly enjoyed every minute of the shoot at MGM.

  JK and DH Soon after we returned to New York, Hepburn called and said, “Come to lunch.” While we were there, we asked her if she’d be willing to do some more publicity for the program.

  “I’m not dumb,” she said. “Of course, I’ll do press. I want people to watch.”

  What we didn’t know then was how cleverly she was already hatching her own plans for the publicity campaign.

  She said, “Even though Spencer’s been gone for almost nineteen years, I’ve recently written a letter to him and wonder if you think it might be interesting enough to use at the end of the show. Here it is. I’ll read it to you.”

  We sat there silently. It was so personal, so moving that by the end, we could hardly speak.

  “What do you think?” she asked. “Does it work for you?”

  “It’s wonderful. And yes, we’d very much like you to read it as the finale to the program.”

  “Good,” she said, matter-of-factly. “And I’ve already read it to the editor of TV Guide, who’s a friend of mine. He wants to use it as the cover story the week of the show’s premiere.”

  We were stunned, but had to think clearly. We knew how valuable it would be to have the cover of a national magazine, and certainly a major coup for any public television show. But there was a downside to it: by publishing the letter a few days prior to our airdate, TV Guide would steal the thunder from the end of the program.

  As we shared our thoughts with her, she said, “Hmm. You’re right. It’ll take the surprise out of it. So I’ll call the editor and tell him I’ll write a different piece about Spence.”

  We realized that it would be like pulling candy away from a child. Anything else would pale in comparison. And we were right. She did write another piece, the title of which appeared as a blurb on the TV Guide cover that week, but it was not the cover story itself. 3

  DH The material we’d shot in Los Angeles was inserted into the rough-cut, and now we needed one more day of taping with Hepburn doing scripted, timed links to camera. I explained to her that, unlike the shoot in California, where she often ad-libbed and the timings weren’t all that critical, the sequences she was about to do now had to be exact or they wouldn’t fit into the spaces we had allowed for them.

  She thought for a moment and then said, “What was that contraption you wanted me to use in California?”

  “Do you mean the teleprompter?”

  “Don’t know what it’s called, but why don’t we try it again?”

  I realized that this was now an opportunity for her to master a leftover challenge from California. And I was ready to give her advice on how to do it. But it turned
out to be completely unnecessary. So often, people unused to a prompter are afraid to look away; their eyes are glued to the script, moving left to right—a dead give-away that they are reading. But Kate took to it like a fish to water—looking down from time to time, as though gathering her thoughts—using the prompter as a tool, rather than as a crutch.

  JK While the crew was setting up, Phyllis came into the room and sat on a chair not far from the camera.

  Kate said, “Go away from there. You’re in my eye-line.”

  I happened to be on the floor below at that moment, so when I came back upstairs and saw that nobody was using that chair, I sat down, waiting for the taping to start. A few seconds later, Hepburn noticed me and said, “You’ll have to move; you’re in my eye-line.” As I was standing up, she said, “Oh, wait a minute; you can stay where you are. I know you have to be there.”

  After about twenty minutes, the camera needed re-loading. During the break, she said, “David, why don’t you just say ‘revolve?’”

  I stared at her, not having a clue what she was talking about. And I was even more confused when he, without missing a beat, replied, “Oh, I realize that you’re used to film. So I’ll just say ‘Action.’”

  Clearly, I was missing something here, or else both of them had suddenly gone insane at the same time. Her question made no sense and neither did his answer. A few minutes later, when the camera was ready again, David indeed said, “Action,” and she did the next piece.

  During another break, I said to him quietly, “Will you please explain that crazy exchange you had with her earlier?”

  “Well,” he said, “when she asked me why I don’t just say ‘revolve,’ it hit me that over the past few months, in all our previous tapings with her, she thought I was saying ‘rotate,’ when in fact I was saying ‘roll tape.’ And I also realized that she wasn’t familiar with the terms often used for television productions, so instead of ‘Cue,’ I should have said ‘Action’ when I wanted her to start talking.”