In the Company of Legends

by Joan Kramer

  What resulted were problems we hadn’t anticipated. We became splintered factions. Stewart and Joanne began coming up with ideas that were mostly impractical—and expensive. In fairness, some of their suggestions, such as dramatizations, are often used in documentaries. But it’s a style we didn’t like then, and still don’t. So we found ourselves in the uncomfortable and embarrassing position of being “the bad guys.”

  At one point we heard that they’d written a letter to Arthur Miller, asking him to serve as the writer of the program. Fortunately, they hadn’t yet mailed it and we asked them not to. While Arthur Miller was a brilliant playwright, he’d never written a documentary.

  JK Tension was mounting. I could hear it in Joanne’s voice on the phone. She felt deeply about the importance of recording for posterity an important part of the history of the American theater. But her dedication to the project, to Stewart, to what she hoped the finished program would represent, was starting to feel like an obsession. Or maybe, we just were not equally as enthusiastic. There’s no doubt we were also feeling some guilt.

  DH We all were struggling with the same basic problem. The show needed more than interviews and stills. It needed a modern “hook,” something on which to hang the story. And that “something” had to be affordable on a public television budget.

  Joanne came to the rescue. In 1987, she convinced Nikos Psacharopoulos, then head of the Williamstown Theatre Festival, to let her direct a production of Golden Boy to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of The Group’s original production, so that we could shoot footage of the rehearsals and the performance. She cast Dylan McDermott and Margaret Klenck in the leading roles. And Nikos also agreed to a Sunday afternoon “Special Event” celebrating The Group Theatre, which we could also film. It was presented on the main stage of the Williamstown Theatre Festival before a live, standing-room-only audience. All surviving original members were invited to come and speak, as well as a distinguished group of descendants, including Paul Newman, James Naughton, Kate Burton, Maria Tucci, Ellen Burstyn, Barbara Baxley, Shelley Winters, with Joanne as host. It was written by Steve Lawson, who had been a writer on the television series, St. Elsewhere, and was a longtime artistic associate of Nikos. There were film clips, music, and scripted reminiscences. It was a superbly successful event in its own right, and just what we needed. And we asked Steve to become the writer of our program.

  Maria Tucci, Paul Newman, and James Naughton at the Tribute to The Group Theatre.

  Williamstown, MA, 1987. Photograph by Don Perdue.

  JK and DH We had accumulated more than twenty-eight hours of film footage for what would be a ninety-minute program. But Joanne still wanted to shoot more. We had to keep our professional hats securely on our heads, which put the friendship with her on very thin ice. We explained that we already had too much material, and that we couldn’t shoot any more.

  “But if I find the money, why do you care?” she said. “The worst that will happen is that we’ll donate the film to an archive.”

  It was Jac who finally put his foot down. He told her that WNET was not in the archive business, that he’d scheduled an airdate for the show, and it was now time to start editing.

  As our editor we hired Alan Berliner, whom we had met when we worked at ABC’s 20/20. At that time he was an assistant film editor, and we were impressed by both his organizational abilities and his sensibilities2. He was a very wise choice.

  DH By this time, we and Joanne were barely speaking. Nevertheless, I told her that I believed the interviews we’d shot were so strong that they should be the basis of our program. So we suggested that she and Stewart borrow our production assistant, Rachel Dretzin, to go through the massive volumes of transcripts and try to create a skeleton of The Group’s story. It was a tough job, requiring patience and probably many gallons of coffee. Alan took their selected interview choices and did a rough assembly on film.

  It was Stewart Stern who eventually realized the magnitude of the project. He said to Joanne, “We’re not documentary producers. David and Joan are. I think we’ve gone as far as we can go ourselves.”

  JK and DH They had in fact done us a huge favor. The preliminary weeding out allowed us to come in with a fresh view and see what additions and changes were needed. There was still a vast amount of work to be done, but now it was manageable. Slowly, we began to put the story together. The interviews became the spine, and elements from the Williamstown Tribute to The Group helped flesh it out, together with other film clips, newsreel footage, stills and graphics. And we lucked out when we discovered that a vault in California contained screen tests of many of The Group’s actors performing scenes from Group Theatre plays.

  Joanne had come up with a splendid idea for the program’s closing credits. She suggested we contact the many famous actors and directors who had been taught by original members of The Group, and ask them to record an audio tape saying, “My name is… and I studied from…,” and also to send us an eight-by-ten photo. They included Meryl Streep, Warren Beatty, Maureen Stapleton, Marlon Brando, Julie Harris, Walter Matthau, Faye Dunaway, Sydney Pollack, Peter Bogdanovich, among others. Their voices and pictures became the backbone of the credit sequence, re-enforcing the continuing legacy of The Group Theatre.

  When we had completed a rough-cut, we invited Joanne to come and see it. She watched in silence; we knew she was less than pleased, still upset that Jac had told her there would be no more filming, except for her scripted on-camera links.

  The Neighborhood Playhouse, her acting alma mater, agreed to let us shoot the links there. She was professional, delivering her pieces well and with warmth. But between shots, she was cool, as she was in the narration session that followed. But we all did what we had to do.

  JK In the meantime, we had hired the famed jazz pianist, Dick Hyman, to compose original music for the program. He did it in the form of an elegant classical chamber piece.

  Jac Venza gave the fine-cut his seal of approval, and the airdate was approaching. Publicity cassettes went to the press and the advance “buzz” was enormously positive. Joanne began getting phone calls congratulating her on the show.

  What happened next was typical of her generosity. She came to the realization that the program had turned out well, and decided to throw a party to celebrate its completion. It was in her apartment in New York, and everyone who had participated was invited. But there was one problem.

  “What am I going to do about Gadge [Elia Kazan]?” she said to me. “If I ask him, no one else will come.”

  There was a pause. “I know how to handle this,” she said. “I’ll call and tell him the truth…that I can’t invite him to be in the same room with Ruth Nelson, Morris Carnovsky, Phoebe Brand, and the others. He’s not dumb. He’ll understand why. But I’ll suggest he have dinner with Paul and me some time next week.” That’s exactly what she did and the party was splendid.

  JK and DH Broadway’s Dreamers: The Legacy of The Group Theatre premiered on June 29th, 1989, to excellent reviews, and was honored with many awards. We had insisted that Joanne share our producers’ credit, so when the program won an Emmy for Outstanding Informational Special, all three of us received statues.

  JK David and I went to the Academy ceremony in Los Angeles, and I remember calling her in Connecticut after we’d won, even though it was very late on the East Coast. Paul picked up the phone.

  “I’m sorry if I’m waking you up.” I told him. “But The Group Theatre program just won an Emmy.”

  “Whoopee!” he shouted.

  “I’d like to give Joanne the good news. Can you please wake her up?”

  He said, “I think I just did.”

  JK and DH In the years since, whenever Joanne was acting or directing, we’d get a call from someone on the set asking for a cassette because, “Miss Woodward wants to show it to the cast and crew.” And Paul gave a grant through his Newman’s Own Foundation for all the interviews in their entirety to be donated to the Lincoln Center Library’s
Theater Archives, where future students of theatrical history can watch them as part of their research. Unfortunately, by then, Joanne’s fears over losing more of The Group’s original members had become a reality, as we learned that many of the ones we’d interviewed had died.

  However, the postscript to this story is a happy one. After the five, often-agonizing, years it took to produce—half the life of The Group Theatre itself—Joanne is as proud of the program as she is of any she’s ever done. And it’s one of our proudest achievements too.

  David and Joan with their Emmys.

  Pasadena, CA, 1990. Authors’ collection.

  Audrey Hepburn with The Fred Astaire Songbook.

  Geneva, Switzerland, 1990. Authors’ collection.

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  Audrey in Switzerland

  Rarely did we ever produce more than one profile about the same subject. An exception was Fred Astaire, about whom we actually did three. The first two in 1980, when we had the opportunity to meet Astaire, celebrated his dancing1, and received almost unanimously positive reviews. However, John J. O’Connor, the television critic for The New York Times, while praising the shows, mentioned “more effort might have been made to highlight Astaire, the singer.” We never forgot that comment, and in 1991 decided to produce The Fred Astaire Songbook.

  As usual, it had a wobbly beginning.

  By then Astaire was no longer alive, so the first step was to get the co-operation of his widow, Robyn Smith Astaire. She had developed a reputation for trying to stop the use of any excerpts from her husband’s films or even photos of him without her permission2, which came with a large price tag attached. And she trusted very few people. Among the few she did trust was Roger L. Mayer, the head of Turner Entertainment Co. (TEC), which held the majority of Astaire’s films. Roger had made a deal with Robyn that allowed him to license excerpts, and in return, she received a percentage of the fee. The deal also included his agreement to tell her in advance of any such usage.

  We already had asked TEC to be a co-producer of the program, along with WNET (Turner provided whatever elements they owned in return for future distribution rights following the PBS broadcast window), so Roger was one of our executive producers. He suggested we come to LA to have dinner with him and Robyn. The date was set, and she suggested the restaurant in the Bel Air Hotel. We arrived on time, as did Roger. But no Robyn. After waiting fifteen minutes, he decided to call her. No answer. Another twenty minutes later, he called her again, only to reach her answering machine. After another half-hour, he said, “I don’t think she’s going to show up, so let’s order.”

  The next morning, he reached her.

  “What happened to you last night? I even called you the day before to re-confirm.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I thought it was meant to be tonight. Let’s all have dinner this evening at L’Hermitage; my treat.”

  Once again we and Roger met at 6:30 pm, and were led to a corner table. The maitre d’ told us that Robyn always wanted to sit facing the wall, apparently in an effort not to be recognized.

  At 6:45 Roger said, “I wouldn’t be surprised if she stood us up again.”

  Five minutes later, the head waiter came with a message: “Mrs. Astaire called from her car. She’s on her way and asked that you order appetizers and drinks.” She finally arrived shortly after 7. She was pretty, wearing a pair of slacks, a blouse and a jacket. We all shook hands, and then she began talking to Roger. It was as though we were not there.

  At one point, she asked him, “Are you wed?”

  Always composed, he replied, “Yes, Robyn, I’ve been ‘wed’ for many years.” Then, still focusing only on him, she asked, “Why do film companies like yours think they deserve to keep making money from my husband’s films?”

  He was beginning to show a bit of impatience, but responded calmly, “Robyn, studios don’t make movies to just keep them hidden on shelves. And, by the way, that brings us to the project we’re planning, so why don’t we let Joan and David tell you about it.”

  DH We reminded her of the 1980 programs, and had brought along a copy of the letter of congratulations we received from Astaire after they had been broadcast. And we mentioned the John O’Connor comment.

  “So now we’re making good on it and doing a show about your husband’s singing. And we’d greatly appreciate your co-operation. Do you have any materials that we might use, such as sheet music or any of the original scores for the songs he wrote?”

  She smiled and said, “I know how much Fred liked your earlier programs and because he loved to sing and write music, I’ll be happy to help with this show in any way I can.”

  “Good,” said Roger. “And while they’re in Los Angeles, why don’t you let them have a look at what you have in the house?”

  “Of course. Can you come tomorrow afternoon? How about 2 pm?”

  JK This was going smoother than we had expected. Until the next morning. I hadn’t left my hotel room, and the phone hadn’t rung, but at around 10 am I saw the light on it blinking. Robyn had left a message with the front desk: “Can’t confirm this afternoon until about noon.”

  12 o’clock came and went. When we hadn’t heard from her by 12:30, I called. The answering machine picked up. Another half-hour went by. I called again and left another message.

  DH I was going stir-crazy waiting in my room for news, so I told Joan I was going out for a walk. When I came back, she still hadn’t heard from Robyn.

  Finally, at 1:45, fifteen minutes before we were supposed to have arrived at her house, Joan received another message through the front desk: “Can’t see you today. I’m out flying my plane cross-country.”

  JK I called Roger. “We’ve been stood up again. Since when has Robyn become a pilot?”

  “I think she told me a while back that she was taking flying lessons,” he said. “She wants to fly for FedEx or DHL or one of those delivery services. But why she made an appointment with you, and why a housekeeper didn’t answer when you called, and why she left messages at the front desk instead of talking to you directly, are all mysteries.”

  About a week later, after we’d returned to New York, Robyn eventually did call me. And she delivered a bombshell: she wanted to host the program.

  DH Our next surprise was when our executive producers, Roger and Jac Venza, told us they didn’t think it was such a bad idea, since many people knew that Astaire had married a former jockey and might find it fascinating to see her.

  I was skeptical. She was not an actress or performer, and had no on-camera experience. (I had had to deal with inexperienced hosts in the past, never with very satisfactory results.) And she hadn’t given us any reason to trust that she’d keep to our schedule and budget. Jac listened to all my reservations.

  “Give it a try,” he said.

  Our lawyer sent her a contract, which she signed and returned. She then asked us to send tapes of our shows, so she could study some of our other hosts.

  JK And then another bombshell: a call from her attorney to say that she didn’t want to host the program and, worse, she was withdrawing her permission for us to produce it.

  Knowing that she was litigious, what followed was a round of phone calls between attorneys at WNET in New York, PBS in Washington, Turner Entertainment Co. in LA, and Turner Broadcasting in Atlanta. There were conference calls, faxes, and more calls. The production schedule was tight, so David and I had to cross our fingers and proceed on the assumption that it would all be worked out. We were scheduled to leave for another trip to LA the day after Labor Day to start shooting interviews.

  The Friday afternoon before the long weekend, we finally heard from WNET’s general counsel: “Everyone has agreed. You should go ahead as planned. Just find someone else to host the show.” The decision was based on the fact that we had a fully-executed contract with Robyn Astaire, that a check for her first payment had been sent, and that she was now in breach of that contract. “So if she tries to sue us, she doe
sn’t have a legal leg to stand on. And we’ve informed her attorneys that we’re going ahead without her.”

  DH Actually it was a great relief, based on my original concerns. And we never heard another word from Robyn or her lawyers.

  Of course, we now were facing the challenge of finding another host. We made a list of people who had worked with Fred Astaire and our top choice was Audrey Hepburn. However, she lived in Switzerland and we’d had no success getting her to appear in our original Astaire shows ten years earlier. But this time we got lucky. I happened to mention her name to a colleague, John Heminway, who worked in the next office to mine at WNET, when he said, “I know one of her best friends. If you’d like, I can make a call and see if I can put the two of you together.”

  JK His friend was Jacqueline Blanc, who lived in Lausanne, not too far from Audrey Hepburn. And within a few days, I found myself talking with Robert Wolders, Audrey’s long-time companion. He asked some general questions, and seemed interested in our plans for the program. The following week, in the middle of our third conversation, suddenly he said, “Hold on, Audrey would like to speak with you.”

  Like so many other people, I was a great admirer of Audrey Hepburn’s beauty, her movies, her voice, and the fact that she put aside a lucrative career as an actress to become a Goodwill Ambassador for UNICEF, traveling to some of the most difficult places on earth where she tried to comfort sick and dying children—using her fame to raise awareness of their plight. She was someone I had always hoped to meet. So when I heard that voice on the phone for the first time, I was thrilled. She was easy to talk to, straightforward, and wanted to be part of the show.