In the Company of Legends

by Joan Kramer

  JK I finally found my voice. “Johnny, Hepburn hosting the program about Tracy was unique. What’s special about your hosting this one is that you represent every member of the audience who has watched Jimmy Stewart on the screen for so many years. But you’re one of the lucky ones who also happens to be his friend.”

  He nodded and clearly was pleased by that argument. Yet he said, “Why don’t I just call Cary and see what he says?”

  We reluctantly had to agree, but left his house feeling depressed. We’d just lost Johnny and had little-to-no hope he’d be able to talk Cary Grant into hosting the program. Worse, even if Grant wanted to do it, our concern that he’d take the spotlight away from Jimmy Stewart was growing deeper by the minute. It seemed that Johnny was determined to replace himself and would continue suggesting one big name after another until he found someone who was acceptable and available.

  The next morning, the phone rang in my hotel room. It was Johnny.

  “Cary is out of town with that one-man show he does about his career. So… I guess you’re stuck with me.”

  It took me a moment to digest the impact of what I’d just heard. Was it possible that another enormous problem had suddenly vanished?

  Then, with a sigh of relief, I said, “Johnny, you have no idea how thrilled I am to be ‘stuck’ with you.”

  JK and DH Only a few weeks later, on November 29th, 1986, the Sunday after Thanksgiving, there was a news flash on television: “Cary Grant, Dead at 82.” Like the rest of the world, we were surprised and saddened. He had died in Davenport, Iowa, right before one of his appearances at a college there.

  JK Johnny called me at home in New York. “Well, I guess you’ve heard the news.”

  I said, “Of course. I’m so sorry. I know you were friends.”

  There was a short pause, then, “Yes, he was a good friend of mine and I really cared about him. So don’t get upset when I tell you what I thought of saying when you answered the phone.”

  “Okay, go ahead. I’m sitting down.”

  “I wanted to say: ‘I asked Cary Grant to host your show and he dropped dead.’”

  James Stewart, Joan Kramer, and Johnny Carson between takes on the Universal backlot.

  Universal City, CA, 1986. Authors’ collection.

  Authors’ collection.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Dirty Laundry and A Rock Concert

  The cast of characters in this story includes an unlikely group: Katharine Hepburn, Jane Fonda, and Michael Jackson. And it was Hepburn, herself, who told us the story during lunch at her house in New York.

  She had agreed to participate in our profile of James Stewart, but she had a favor to ask.

  “I’ve also promised to do an interview for a piece about Michael Jackson, so can your film crew shoot it on the same day? I’ll already be in makeup for you, so it would make sense to do the other one right afterwards.”

  Since she already knew us and our crew, that made sense. But what caught our attention was her mentioning Michael Jackson.

  JK “Do you know him?” I asked.

  “Why? Does that surprise you? As a matter of fact, that book on the table over there belongs to him. He left it here when he came to visit.”

  “Okay. Now I’m filled with curiosity.”

  “Oh yes, we’re good friends,” she said. “I met him when I was up at Squam Lake in New Hampshire making On Golden Pond, and he came to visit Jane Fonda. They were already friends and she invited him to the location. She introduced him to me, and he was very soft-spoken and sweet.

  “Then, Jane said to me, ‘I have to go back to Los Angeles for the weekend, so could you look after Michael for me?’

  “I said, ‘What the hell am I supposed to do with this kid? I hardly know him.’

  “‘Oh, you’ll find things to do,’ she said. ‘He’s crazy about you.’

  “She’d found him a room in the attic of an old house. When I went there on Saturday morning, the room looked like a hurricane had hit it. I said, ‘Michael, clean up this place—right now.’ And he said, ‘Yes, Miss Hepburn,’ in a voice I could hardly hear, and he began picking up all those clothes and piling them on a chair. I said to him, ‘Don’t you ever do your laundry?’ And he said, ‘Someone usually does that for me.’

  “I said, ‘Come with me. We’re going to a laundromat just down the street.’”

  DH It’s a scene that should have been captured on film: Katharine Hepburn and Michael Jackson walking into a public laundromat, with Kate showing Michael how to feed quarters into the washing machines.

  She said, “People were a bit taken aback to see us, but then went about their own business and left us alone.”

  While they sat and watched his clothes tumbling around, she said, “Michael, take off those goddamn sunglasses. I can’t see your eyes.” And he promptly obliged.

  “So that was the beginning of our friendship. Now, whenever he’s in New York, he comes to visit. The last time, he said, ‘I’d like to buy some books. Can you recommend any that you think I should read?’ I asked Kathy (her niece, Katharine Houghton, who played Hepburn’s and Spencer Tracy’s daughter in Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner) to take him shopping at Barnes and Noble and they came back with three shopping bags filled with books I’d suggested. He proudly showed them all to me. And I can guarantee that he’s never cracked the spine of any one of them.”

  JK She also invited him to dinner and asked what he’d like to eat.

  “Just vegetables,” he said.

  She told us, “So, Norah made this beautiful vegetarian dinner, with almost every vegetable you can think of. When he arrived, I asked him, ‘What’s your favorite vegetable, Michael?’ He replied, ‘Cauliflower.’

  “‘Really? How fascinating,’ I said, as I realized it was the only one not on the menu. But I decided to let him discover that for himself.

  “And then, he invited me to one of his concerts at Madison Square Garden.”

  Actress that she was, she paused for shock value.

  I said, “And did you go? I don’t quite picture you at a Michael Jackson concert.”

  “Yep,” she said. “He insisted I come. I took Phyllis and Schuyler (her great-niece, Schuyler Grant).”

  Another great scene for a movie: two octogenarians and a seventeen-year-old walking down the aisle at Madison Square Garden to seats in the second row. Apparently, word spread like wildfire that Hepburn was in the audience, with everyone wanting to catch a glimpse of her.

  Soon after 8 pm, the concert started. But as with most rock concerts, the main attraction isn’t the first one to appear. So as the clock ticked away, Kate became increasingly angry.

  “Let’s go,” she said. “He’s late and I don’t want to wait any longer.” Schuyler explained that he wasn’t late—that this was just the opening act for him.

  “Well, then why didn’t he tell me that so we could have arrived later?”

  Schuyler prevailed on her to wait it out, since Michael knew they were in the audience.

  And then, finally, out he came. Hepburn was horrified—by his erotic pelvic moves and the volume level of the entire performance. The young man with the quiet voice and shy personality had turned into a sex object on the stage in front of her.

  She said, “Let’s get out of here. I don’t ever want to see him again. He’s vulgar.”

  Again, it was up to Schuyler to convince her not only to stay, but then to go backstage, where he was expecting her after the concert.

  Another frenzied melee erupted when she walked through the stage door. And in a voice everyone there could hear, she said, “Michael, what was that? Asinine. And lewd.”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Hepburn,” he said, speaking again in his soft, childlike voice. “But that’s what I do when I perform on stage.”

  “Well, take my advice. And don’t ever do it again.”

  DH A week after she told us that story, our crew set up in her living room for our James Stewart interview. As usual, we were
a very small group: Joan and I, a production assistant, lighting director, cameraman and sound engineer. By the time we’d finished, the producers of the documentary about Michael Jackson had already arrived. Obviously everyone on their staff wanted to meet Katharine Hepburn and found an excuse to show up: two producers, writers, a director, an assistant director, a production assistant, and several others whose titles weren’t obvious.

  When Kate saw this crowd she said to us, “Stick around. When I get rid of that bunch, we’ll have lunch.”

  Joan and I went into an adjacent room and watched the interview on a monitor. It didn’t take long to realize that the questions were making Hepburn increasingly uncomfortable.

  “What’s your favorite Michael Jackson song?”

  “I don’t know the name of any goddamn one of them.”

  “What do you see in Michael Jackson’s future?”

  “I see Michael Jackson.”

  I felt my stomach muscles tense as this continued through several more questions. I thought she was going to throw them all out at any moment.

  After about fifteen agonizing minutes, it was over. When they were on the way down the stairs, she said to us, “Thank God they’re leaving. Now let’s eat.”

  As usual, lunch was a cup of Norah’s homemade soup, and a sandwich. And, of course, for dessert, Sedutto’s mocha chip ice cream and lace cookies.

  JK and DH We never saw the finished documentary about Michael Jackson. And we doubt that Hepburn did either.

  And, as far as we know, she never went to another one of his concerts, which undoubtedly was best for both of them because he clearly, and astutely, never took her advice about his performance.

  Photograph by Len Tavares.

  David Heeley meets President Ronald Reagan and Nancy Reagan.

  The White House Library, 1986. Authors’ collection.

  President Ronald Reagan and Nancy Reagan greet Joan Kramer.

  The White House Library, 1986. Authors’ collection.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  A Visit to the White House

  DH Among the many photographs that hang on the wall of my loft in Manhattan, there’s one in particular that almost always provokes comments. It’s a picture of me shaking hands with Ronald Reagan. Those who don’t know my political leanings usually tap dance around, trying to determine how I felt about him and his presidency. I eventually let them know that I met Ronald and Nancy Reagan on business, and it had nothing to do with politics.

  JK and DH They were high on our list of potential interviewees for the profile we were producing about James Stewart. It was well known that they shared a long friendship with the Stewarts, one which dated back so many years that none of them could recall when it first began. Gloria Stewart did remember that she knew “Ronnie” before she ever met Jimmy, and that she and Nancy were friends long before the Reagans married. The Stewarts were also staunch Republicans, and Jimmy frequently campaigned for Ronald Reagan when he ran for Governor of California, and later for President.

  We were aware that arranging an interview in the White House with the President and First Lady would not be easy. They undoubtedly received hundreds of letters every day and read very few of them personally. However, since the one from us involved a good friend of theirs, we thought there was a fair chance it would eventually be brought to their attention.

  The response came in about ten days. It was on White House stationery from Frederick J. Ryan, Jr., Director of Presidential Appointments and Scheduling. He said he was writing on behalf of the President, who would not be able to “participate in a program on the life and career of the late James Stewart” because of his full schedule.

  Reply to our request for an interview with President and Mrs. Reagan.

  1986. Authors’ collection.

  At that time, in 1986, Jimmy Stewart was still very much alive. Unwittingly, Mr. Ryan had done us a favor. Had he not referred to the “late” James Stewart, we probably would have believed the excuse. But his blunder not only indicated that our request had never made it past his desk, but it also gave us valuable ammunition for a second attempt.

  Our initial reaction was to have some fun at his expense by informing him that Mr. Stewart was going to be rather surprised to hear that two of his oldest friends think he’s dead. But our associate producer, Cindy Mitchell, suggested a more sensible approach. By a fortunate coincidence her fiancé, John, lived next door to Sheila Tate, who had only recently left her White House position as Nancy Reagan’s press secretary. Cindy thought Sheila might be able to give us an insider’s advice, and offered to contact her for us.

  JK I soon had a message on my desk: “Call Sheila Tate at 10 am Tuesday morning.”

  She came on the line immediately.

  “I heard about the letter you received from Fred Ryan. Poor Fred. He’s overworked and obviously didn’t do his homework. I can assure you that the Reagans would have agreed to an interview about Jimmy Stewart if they knew they’d been asked.

  “Now if you still want them, let me handle it. But don’t try embarrassing Fred. The staff will protect him and you still won’t get the interview. I’ll call Elaine Crispen, who’s now in my old job as Mrs. Reagan’s press secretary, and ask her to get involved. But when you talk to her, just start from scratch with your request and don’t mention Fred Ryan’s letter. I’ll have already told her the whole story and she doesn’t need to hear it again.”

  I remember saying, “But Sheila, is that the way to approach the President—by going through Mrs. Reagan’s office? Our letter was addressed to both of them.”

  “Trust me. This is the way to do it.”

  I was surprised. Like most people at that time, I was not aware of the extent of Nancy Reagan’s power within the White House. The stories about her far-reaching influence on her husband’s decisions had not yet been made public by some members of his staff who later claimed that she was responsible for them being fired.

  Sheila Tate called back within twenty-four hours.

  “I’ve spoken with Elaine and filled her in on the background. Here’s her direct line. She’s expecting your call.”

  Elaine Crispen was businesslike but friendly.

  “I hear you’re doing a profile about the late James Stewart,” she said with a laugh.

  “Mrs. Crispen, you said that. I didn’t.”

  “I know. Fred made a mistake, but let’s see if we can fix it. I’ll talk to Mrs. Reagan and I should have an answer for you by tomorrow.”

  She called the next morning with good news. And then added, “You’ll be hearing from Fred Ryan to schedule the time.”

  It was hard not to laugh when he called, and there wasn’t even a hint of recognition that he’d dealt with this before.

  “Hello, this is Fred Ryan, Director of Appointments and Scheduling for the President and Mrs. Reagan. How is Monday afternoon, November 10th at 4 pm for your interview? If that works for you, I need you to send me a list of the topics you want them to discuss. Now let me connect you to Elizabeth Board, who is Director of The White House Television Office.”

  Elizabeth also asked for the same list “so that I can get the speech writers going on this.” That took me aback somewhat.

  I said, “Elizabeth, what speech writers? Everyone else who’s on the program is answering questions in an informal, conversational way. If the President and Mrs. Reagan read a speech from a teleprompter about their old friend, Jimmy Stewart, it’ll feel very odd. They know him so well. Can’t they just talk off the cuff?”

  “They almost never do anything without being scripted,” she said, “and they’re very good at making it not look or sound like a speech. But I do see your point. Let me talk to Elaine and I’ll call you back.”

  Finally, it was agreed that our questions would be given directly to the Reagans so they would have time to collect their thoughts. But there would be no speeches written for them and no teleprompter.

  DH We were asked for our birth dates and social securi
ty numbers and, apparently we each now have an FBI file, as does anyone who interviews the President.

  Arriving at the White House gate a few weeks later, we were given name tags and clearance passes, and taken upstairs to Elaine Crispen’s office on the second floor. There was another small staircase nearby, which she told us led up to the private living quarters. We expected her office to be large and luxurious. It wasn’t. It was tiny, but well furnished and comfortable, with photos of the Reagan family on the walls and shelves. She gave us the list of questions we’d sent, which now had the President’s and Mrs. Reagan’s check marks next to the ones they were prepared to answer. Among the very few not marked was: “When did you first meet Jimmy Stewart?” The reason became clear later.

  Interview questions with the Reagans’ comments.

  1986. Authors’ collection.

  The crew was setting up in the White House Library on the main floor when Elizabeth Board told us, “You’ll have twenty minutes. That should be plenty.” Obviously she had scheduled more for the President and First Lady to do on camera that afternoon. Twenty minutes didn’t seem like “plenty” to us, but we were in no position to argue.

  JK Just before 4 pm, Ronald and Nancy Reagan walked into the library holding hands and smiling. She was wearing a red dress (red had become known as her signature color) with simple, but elegant gold jewelry. He was dressed in a dark suit and tie, looking very dapper. His hair appeared to be naturally black; it didn’t look dyed. (Everyone in our office had asked us to take a close look because most people thought it was impossible for him not to have a gray hair at his age.)

  A White House photographer was standing by, and his camera flashed as each of us shook hands with the President and then with Mrs. Reagan. This is most likely standard procedure since almost everyone who meets the President of the United States wants a record of the occasion.