In the Company of Legends

by Joan Kramer

  It was also the beginning of a long friendship. Not only did she allow us to film her interview inside the house, but she gave each of us two lithographs of her husband’s paintings: one is of the three hats he wore in On Golden Pond, including the one that had belonged to Spencer Tracy; the other is a magnified page from the book, The Grapes of Wrath.

  Henry Fonda lithograph: “The Three Hats.”

  Courtesy of Shirlee Fonda.

  Henry Fonda lithograph: “Grapes of Wrath.”

  Courtesy of Shirlee Fonda.

  Back in New York, Jane and Ted were in town for an event at the United Nations. They were staying at the UN Plaza Hotel and she agreed to set aside some time to talk with us. We took an audiocassette recorder so that we’d be able to craft our script for the show based on her own words.

  Betty Cohen was the executive at TNT assigned to the project and she flew to New York from Atlanta to join us at the meeting. The network was still super-sensitive to the fact that we were working with Ted’s fiancée, and wanted one of their representatives present whenever we met with her. At one point the doorbell rang. Jane said it must be the valet service delivering Ted’s tuxedo, and asked Betty to answer the door, take the tux and hang it in the closet, which was embarrassing, since she was essentially our boss. However, Jane didn’t know her and she was busy talking with us. Then Ted came in, and Jane introduced us to him. Betty had to introduce herself. Even though she worked for him, he obviously didn’t know who she was1.

  JK and DH Our conversation with Jane lasted about two hours and was very useful. She’s forthright and very smart, and was more than willing to talk about her father’s weaknesses as well as his strengths. She’s also very vulnerable and sensitive, and at times we saw her well up with emotion. She told us her father had always said, “The Fondas cry over a good steak.”

  JK She talked about how wonderful it was for her and her father to have had the chance to work with Katharine Hepburn. And then she said, “I thought, ‘What a shame they hadn’t known each other when they were young. Maybe they’d have married and she would have been my mother.’”

  I remember saying, “That would have been a disaster. By her own admission, Kate would have been a terrible mother. She felt it was impossible to have a career and raise a family, and her choice was her career. She once told us, ‘If I had to give a performance on Broadway, and a child of mine was sick, I’d want to strangle that kid.’”

  DH We admitted that, after having watched most of Fonda’s films, we had trouble locking onto his persona. Unlike Jimmy Stewart, about whom we’d done a profile three years earlier, Fonda wasn’t a cozy actor and it took time for us to understand his technique.

  Jane said that he always projected the truth in his performances. He just “did it,” and because he was such a shy man in real life, he called acting his “mask.” He was most comfortable when he could become someone else.

  She suggested that we talk to a number of people with whom he had worked and that she’d put us in touch with them. Some of them, she said, adored working with him. Others had a hard time. She wanted us to hear both sides.

  JK Among those I called was Anne Bancroft. She and Fonda had worked together on the stage in Two for the Seesaw and did not enjoy the experience. Bancroft was trained in “The Method,” and Fonda had no patience for the preparation many “Method” actors seemed to need in order to perform. When I explained why I was calling, Bancroft said, “I’d really rather not talk about him. If Jane wants to call me, I’ll tell her why, but it’s not something I’m willing to discuss with anyone else.”

  Exactly opposite were the reactions from Paul Newman and Ron Howard. Paul had directed Fonda and found him completely professional. He repeated what Jane had said, “He projected the truth in everything he did.” Ron Howard credits him with his decision to become a director. He talked about Fonda’s perfectionism, his attention to details and gave as an example how Fonda was always aware of continuity from one take to another. He made sure his cigarette was exactly the same length from shot to shot, and that the water in a glass was at the same level.

  DH In the end, we indeed were able to get a full picture of Henry Fonda from a variety of sources. And many of them would probably have agreed to appear on camera for the program. However, we decided that the visual materials were so rich and varied, that the show would be better served by only a few key people. With Jane as host, and Peter and Shirlee already on board, the only other interviews we did were with James Stewart, director Sidney Lumet, and Katharine Hepburn.

  Our researcher had discovered an interview with Fonda, himself, in the Oral History Archives of Columbia University. It was an important “find” because it gave us the opportunity to let him tell his own story as much as possible. Thus, the title of the program, Fonda on Fonda, reflects the participation of all the Fondas.

  JK Through the months of production, occasionally we would get a message from Jane’s office asking when she could expect to see a script. However, unlike a dramatic feature film, the script for a documentary evolves out of the interviews, film clips, graphics, etc., and is written as part of the editing process. She eventually received it just a few weeks before we shot her host sequences in Los Angeles.

  The date was set, and she suggested the location: the Brentwood home in which the Fonda family had lived until she was six years old. The house had recently been bought by Rob Reiner, but he and his family hadn’t yet moved in. Since it was empty and we only needed exterior shots, he allowed us to film there, and to use the empty guest house as Jane’s dressing room.

  DH We’d received a call from her assistant to say that Jane was happy with the script. However, I knew that her final piece to camera was very emotionally charged. It summed up her father’s life and included her reaction to his death. Even though we’d written it using her own words, I knew it would be hard for her. So I asked if we could go over it with her in person. She suggested we meet at her home in Santa Monica the day before the shoot.

  Which brings us back to that lunch on her patio.

  We arrived just after she and Ted had come in from a jog around the neighborhood. They were both wearing running suits and baseball caps.

  “It’s such a nice day. Let’s eat outside,” she said.

  They served lunch themselves, and were gracious hosts. And it was Ted who kept going into the house to get more bread, etc.

  Jane repeated that she was satisfied with the script, but I knew that the time for any changes was now, not with an expensive film crew waiting around for us to re-write. It was near the end of the meal when I said, “Would you read through the closing piece for me? I want to be sure you’re comfortable with it.”

  JK At that moment, Ted was on his way to the kitchen for some more butter. He’d left us all laughing and light-hearted. When he came out again, Jane was in tears. He glared at us accusingly, and asked her why she was crying.

  She looked up and said, “Darling, sit down and read this.” A few seconds later, tears were streaming down his face too. There we were, four people, and two of them, Jane Fonda and Ted Turner, were crying. Neither David nor I knew what to say.

  Finally, to break the silence, I said, “Look at this, we just lost our hosts!” I’d accidentally struck the right chord. Both of them started to laugh, and the mood turned light again.

  Jane said, “The script is fine. Don’t touch it.”

  DH However my initial instincts turned out to be correct. It was not easy for Jane to say those words when the camera rolled. And as director, I found myself with not only a sobbing actress, but also a political juggling act with the TNT personnel who had shown up on the set, uninvited, just in time to witness the meltdown of their boss’s fiancée.

  JK A few days before, Betty Cohen told me that several executives were planning to be present. But David and I felt strongly that Jane didn’t need an audience. So I called her assistant, Debbie Karolewski, and shared my thoughts with her.

  She said
, “Let me talk to her about this and we’ll take it from there.” She called back the next day and said, “Don’t worry. Other than Betty Cohen, no one else will show up. I just called all their offices and said to their assistants, ‘Jane wants a closed set. No one is to be there except for the producers and the crew.’”

  David Heeley, Jane Fonda, and crew.

  Brentwood, CA, 1991. Authors’ collection.

  Jane Fonda with David Heeley and Joan Kramer.

  Brentwood, CA, 1991. Authors’ collection

  DH Jane arrived at 8 am in her own car, driven by Ted, who parked outside the gates. He went with her to the guest house—now her dressing room—carrying her wardrobe on hangers. There was no entourage, not even their personal assistants.

  I was busy working with the crew, and our production manager was already worried that we were hearing nearby power lawn mowers. Her worries were well-founded; she spent a good deal of that day running from house to house, pleading with gardeners, including Julie Andrews’, to turn off their mowers, giving each of them a tip in cash to reinforce the request.

  JK Soon after they arrived, Jane began showing Ted around. She saw the mulberry bush that her father had planted some fifty years before.

  “This is where I learned to sing, ‘Here we go round the mulberry bush, the mulberry bush, the mulberry bush…’” as she and Ted chased each other around it. Both of them were laughing and clearly having a good time. Then she said, “I’d like to take a look inside.” A few of us went into the house with her, and she showed us the room that had been her childhood bedroom.

  I realized that the tour was not only for Ted, but it was her way of absorbing the setting and thinking about her life at that house; it was indeed part of her “Method” acting training to get ready for the shoot ahead.

  She and Ted went back to her makeshift dressing room, where her makeup artist and hairdresser were waiting for her. When she was ready, Ted settled into a folding chair on the lawn with a book and a stack of magazines, looking up whenever she did a take.

  DH We broke for lunch at about noon, and Ted and Jane sat at the large table along with us and the crew. He said to her, “Where did all this food come from?”

  She replied, “Darling, there’s a catering truck in front of the house.”

  He then added, “We should take the leftovers home with us.”

  Clearly embarrassed, she said, “No Ted. We don’t need the leftovers. Remember we’re taking Troy for pizza tonight.” (Troy is her son by her second husband, Tom Hayden.)

  Rob Reiner and his wife, Michelle, came by to say “Hello,” and also joined us for lunch.

  While shaking hands with Reiner, Ted said, “I own you now.”

  Reiner looked rather startled and asked, “What do you mean?”

  Ted replied, “I just bought the rights to All in the Family.”

  JK and DH When Ted was out of hearing range, Jane told us, “He employs a lot of people to make television programs and movies, but this is the first time he’s ever been on a set. So he doesn’t know anything about catering services, or any of the details involved in production.”

  And then she added rather wistfully, “I just wish my father were alive now so that he could see me this happy for the first time in my life.”

  JK Obviously word had somehow spread to the offices at TNT that Ted, himself, was on the set. And slowly, one by one, executives from the company began to show up, even though they’d been told not to come. I chatted with them between set-ups, trying my best to keep them busy and away from David and Jane, who didn’t need to be distracted by visitors.

  DH Based on Jane’s reaction the day before, I realized that the end of the script had to be the final set-up of the day. If she was going to cry, no amount of makeup would cover her red eyes. So I juggled the order of the shoot, and we got to that last page at about 4 pm.

  I called, “Action.”

  After about ten words, her voice broke and tears started running down her cheeks.

  I said, “Cut,” and went to where she was sitting on a bench. “Jane, take your time and think about it. There’s no rush. Just tell me when you’re ready.”

  Take two began, and this time she got through the first two sentences before breaking down.

  I said, “Cut,” and was about to go and talk to her again, when I heard a woman’s voice saying, “David, let her take a break. She’s obviously upset.” It was one of TNT’s executives, and she had decided to intervene.

  I said, “No, I don’t want her to lose the emotion.”

  The executive insisted, “She’s upset. Let her take a break.”

  “No, she knows what she’s doing. If she needs a break she’ll ask for one.”

  I was pretty sure Jane and I were on the same page and I knew I had to hold my ground. She never asked to move out of her position, and a few minutes later, was ready to go again.

  She finally made it all the way through, but only just, starting to sob during the last few words.

  I said, “Cut. That was terrific. Can you do another one for me as a protection?”

  She said, “Yes. But right now.”

  I called, “Action,” and this time she managed to finish again, with as much emotion, but without falling apart at the end.

  I said, “Cut. That was perfect. And that’s a wrap.”

  JK David walked with her back to her dressing room. And as the crew was packing up, I looked around and saw that just as they had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, the TNT executives had vanished.

  I remember thinking that it was somewhat poetic. The sun was setting as David and Jane were walking away from the camera, and he had prevailed in a sticky situation.

  DH We recorded her voice-over narration the following day. She finished the script in no time, with very few second or third takes for any section. But to me it seemed as though she was rushing—a reading that was somewhat dry and lacking in feeling. I told her that all her takes were good, but that the pace felt just a tad fast.

  After the last shot.

  Brentwood, CA, 1991. Authors’ collection.

  Without any reservations, she said, “You may be right. Let’s do it again.” This time she took it a little slower, and it definitely felt like a warmer delivery. But when we listened to her various takes later in the editing room, I realized that maybe she was the one who was right. We chose from the first reading more often than the second.

  Before she left, I had a favor to ask her. My life-partner, Don, was back in New York recovering from a spell in the Intensive Care Unit of New York’s Beth Israel Hospital. He was a great admirer of Jane, so I’d brought a get-well card with me and asked her if she’d be kind enough to sign it for him.

  “Of course,” she said with a smile. “Let me have it and I’ll ask Ted to sign it too.”

  JK I also heard her say, “Thank you, David. You’re a very good director.” I know he was pleased.

  JK and DH The following evening found us with her and Ted again, this time at a black-tie event in his honor at UCLA. Our friend, Roger Mayer, had invited us not only to attend, but to sit at the same table with him, his wife Pauline, and Ted and Jane. He said, “It will be good for them to have familiar faces around.” We joined the Mayers at the pre-dinner cocktail party.

  DH A commotion of photographers told us Ted and Jane had arrived. They eventually spotted us and made their way through the crowd. We all embraced, and then she said, “Before I forget,” as she reached into the jacket pocket of Ted’s tuxedo and pulled out an envelope. It was the card I’d given her the previous day, now signed by both of them and wishing Don well. I thanked her and told her how much he would appreciate it. (He was indeed thrilled when he saw the two signatures.) I repeated how happy I was with the filming and recording she’d done over the last couple of days.

  Then, out of the blue:

  “Why don’t you two do a program about Katharine?” she asked.

  “We already did a profile of her about ten yea
rs ago,” I told her. “That was the first time we met you, right after you made On Golden Pond.”

  “Well do another one—for us this time—and I’ll host it. It can be for TNT, can’t it, Ted?”

  “Of course, darling,” he said with a smile.

  JK We all went in to the main room for dinner. Jane looked beautiful in a black silk dress with an overlay of sheer black chiffon. We sat at a round table, and after dessert was served, the band played and people danced. I happened to glance at her during a particularly romantic piece of music and our eyes met. She had a wistful, peaceful look on her face as we continued to smile at each other. Then she began swaying to the music, and I noticed that her eyes were misty. I thought, “She’s completely content, not only with Ted, but also with the events of the last few days.”

  “Get Well” card signed by Jane and Ted.

  1991. Authors’ collection.

  JK and DH By the time we were back in NY, Ted had already informed his production executives that we were going to produce a new profile of Katharine Hepburn. It was the fastest and easiest commission we ever had.

  Of course, nothing is ever that simple. There was a rocky road ahead. But it was the birth of our program, Katharine Hepburn: All About Me.

  And by the way, Jane was not its host.

  Fonda on Fonda “graduation picture.”

  Brentwood, CA, 1991. Authors’ collection.

  Katharine Hepburn at her home in Fenwick.

  Old Saybrook, CT, 1991. Photograph by John Bryson, courtesy Bryson Photo.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  Kate on Kate

  DH “Why do you want to do another show about me?” said Hepburn. “Because I’m so fascinating?”

  “Yes, you are fascinating,” I said. “But you’re also a public figure, so you’re fair game—anyone can produce a program about you. If we do a new one with you, you can tell your story the way you want it to be told.”