Variety (January 1953)

Wednesday, January T, 1953 Forty-seventh PlS^IETT Anniversary rviTuiws S9 Letter Found in a Bottle at Sardi’s \ (Note: All the characters mentioned are real people but in some cases better they should have been fictional) Dear George Jean Nathan: it better to write a hit show or a flop show? (Signed) Perplexed. i|) ii< $ Go East Young Man I have a story to tell If I could only get it on paper- one that would freeze the marrow of all fun-loving Holly- wood boys and girls who like myself had a theatrical background in their early youth and thought they’d make a triumphal reentry in the theatre, rushing back across the great Ameri- can plain confidently clutching The Play or The Musical that would have the very rails under the Chief singing in anticipation of the huzzas of the first night Broadway audience and the cries of critics for “Author—author!” I have a story to tell that would out blood-and-thunder Moby : Dick, and could even use Melville’s opening line—“It was a bleak November in my soul when it began—” for this is indeed how my story begins and I Ken Engluno am no j. a jj 0ve us i n g these very words because after all Melville’s stuff is now in Public Domain. This story which is so hard to get on paper might be appropriately scribbled on the back of old Essex House bills and Sardi’s menus. And before I go any further I’d like everyone to please rise and pay tribute by facing Vincent Sardi, the man who kept^on seating me at his choicest tables even though he knew my show was never coming in. It takes guts for a restaurateur to do that and a heart as soft as his Zabaglione. For Vincent got the word from the Shubert Alley grape- vine—Englund’s show is good “but it’s never coming in.” The cliche I heard most frequently during my year of preparations was “Don’t come in ’till you’re ready.” I’m so careful I haven’t come in yet. And that’s five years ago. The name of the show was “He and She.” But let Douglas Watt give it to you in his own words in his column on Thursday, July 15, 1948, in the N. Y.'Daily News. NEW PRODUCING FIRM ; PROMISES 3 IN FALL By Douglas Watt They all want to come to Broadway. It’s such a small place, but it must get to look so big to them out there in Hollywood, and so desirable. The ambi- tious ones become desperate to try themselves out on Broadway before their brains are thoroughly picked over by the tin gods of the studios and bleached white by the health-taking California sun. These and other considerations may account for the decision of Ken Englund, a veteran movie-writer with as much take-home pay as he can carry, to team up with Lou Levy, a local song publisher with a head on his shoulder, and schedule three Englund shows for the coming season. The bets are, of course, that one of them stands a reasonable chance of being done during this next theatrical year, but Levy-Englund Productions is full of plans. The three Englund shows are: 1. An untitled musical described as “a story of the American people, 140,000,000 of them.” Ogden Nash and Vernon Duke are reportedly set as, respectively,., lyricist and composer; 2. “The Little Woman,” a marriage satire in which Gary Cooper is expected to. be one of the principal backers, and 3. “Amor,” a South American musical. Elliott Nugent, who has worked with Englund in ■> Hollywood, will direct the first musical if his picture . schedule gives him enough free time and Jules Mun- shin and Sono Osato are wanted for the leads. , Englund and Levy, both with strong ties in Holly-- wood, plan ,toi.produce their own filin'versions of shows they do'here. ‘ These world-shaking plans were announced in non- satiric terms by Bert McCord in the N. Y. Herald Tribune on the same date wfth the additional note about “Amor”—- quote: “Dore Schary, who yesterday was named executive producer of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, bid for an option on the latter work just before he quit his post at RKO but - the author preferred to have it reach the screen by way of the boards .” Louis Calta in the N. Y. Times gave us less space but referred to me as “The peripatetic Mr. Englund—” and mentioned “the prolific pen of Mr. Englund,” which I found most gratifying. ‘ All that remained was to write the three shows and get them on. After looking up the definition of peripatetic I set to work turning out the revue first because my partner, bt'ing a music man, wanted to debut auspiciously, present- ing not only a smash Show but a smash score as well. Saga of 35 Auditions But “He and She” never debuted at all except in living >oms, where in some 35 or more auditions for backers we used the $165,000 we needed, only to finally return it to »e investors. A year and a half later in Hollywood I Win raised the financing, this time for a West Coast toduction but couldn’t find an available theatre and ?ain returned the money. When I relayed the sad facts • Groucho Marx that I had raised the money necessary a both coasts but still hadn’t gotten the show on, he help*' dly suggested, “Why don’t you try Cleveland?” Yet we were a smash in living rooms and it was beau- ful while it lasted and when I crept back to Sardi’s bar ?cently, considerably refreshed by five years of Holly- ood income, a Broadwayite recognized' me and queried neerely, “Hi—when are you coming in?” 1 he question set me to brooding as I gazed into my little '.vstai glass of Scotch-and-soda trying to still find the n.^wer to where I went wrong. In thinking back, we H'med always to have been cursed by business rather than ^ l istic problems. Listing my co-producers in the order of u ‘ u * disappearance, first there was my close friend Lou By KEN ENGLUND Levy, who originally agreed to finance all three projects only to return in ill health from England and was forced .by doctor’s orders to give up all taxing duties other than his music business. So “He and She” and all his theatre plans were expendable. I was a reluctant co-producer In the first place and had taken on the role in addition to my writing duties only at his urgings. Now he urged me to abandon script and I fully intended to, but collaborators Ogden Nash and Vernon Duke reminded me that it was my clear duty to take over the helm and the cry was, “On with the show!” Stewart Chaney, brilliant scenic designer and showman, became my next partner and the auditioning began. In homes all over greater Manhattan and in Vernon’s book- lined apartment we wooed rich and poor alike. So expert did we become in dancing attendance on Dowagers that in quickly lighting a lady’s cigaret I’d find I was burn- ing Stewart’s fingers in the process! On the Coast, before I packed my bags, I had wrung from Lou Levy a promise that I would never have to pan- handle for theatrical gold and here I was standing up before roomfuls of solemn-faced strangers who sat giving me the X-ray eye as I proceeded to make the investment pitch. Ogden and Stewart felt their nervous tempera- ments weren’t suited for the job and Vernon was needed at the piano and so I was forced to make the transition from Boy Screenwriter to Boy Elecutionist. With every “performance” I gained in confidence and charm and the ham in me would come out when old ladies would come up afterwards and ask, “Are you going to be in it? I went to the ‘Gentlemen Prefer Blondes’ audition last week and you’re so much better a speaker than John C. Wilson.” I scuff my foot at such memories but others burn—particularly when I recall our First Audition. It had been arranged through Richard Maney, our doughty press agent, that Life Magazine photograph our first and we hoped last audition. We were elated. But the Life people, although gracious, were firm in their de- mands. For one thing they wanted the affair staged in a room with a balcony. I can only guess that they wanted to take Busby Berkley shots of our pretty girl singers. My attorney’s brother, Henry Jaffe, responded heroic- ally to the cause and asked a friend, Mr. Barney Balaban, to loan us his spacious, balcony-equipped apartment. Mr. Balaban was generosity itself but then discovered that his wife had planned a birthday party for their daughter on the same date and I felt that in view of this fact blood ties were stronger and we would have to look else- where. Penthouse Serenade Mr. Seidman, a veteran investor* in shows, urged us to use his place and we asked the Life people to case it even though it was sans balcony. ^ After a stern appraisal they grudgingly accepted the premises and then, to add further choler to tjieir ,mood, on their descent they got stuck in the elevator between floors for an hour. When they were finally freed, tempers slightly ruffled, they presented further demands. One of them being that they must have a complete list of guests 24 hours prior to the audition. Furthermore no .one but no one not on this list was to be admitted! The day before the big event my chief prospect, an ad executive who had agreed to put up 75 grand, called my secretary to ask if he might bring William Gaxton. The secretary, dutifully carrying out Life’s orders, answered with a flat no. So of course the exec didn’t come or come through. I later had the secretary’s head hollowed out and it made a dandy ashtray. Before me is a yellowing paper headed Audition No. 1. “He and She.” It was quite a representative audience I addressed nervously—among others Mrs. Martin Beck, Louis Lotito, David Wayne, Bob Keith, a lady bullfighter whose name escapes me, and the King and Queen of Yugo- slavia. I was pleased and impressed at their royal pres- ence but the performance got off on an alarming foot when during the first song one of the cameramen scampering from shelf to shelf like a mountain goat among Mr. Seid- man’s art treasures, knocked over a tall heavy light stand- ard onto the King’s head! After the appropriate gasps we were relieved to find his royal highness unscathed and composed. I studied' the cameraman to make certain he was no revolutionary assassination-minded countryman of the Monarch’s and then plunged on but the photographer had taken the show away from us. The eyes of our audi- ence would stray to Mr. and Mrs. Seidman hurrying about “inconspicuously” removing their objets d’art from harm’s way, and finally when another light standard crowned the King a second time—I wound up hastily with “Well, ladies and getlemen, that’s roughly our show— roughly—and if you wish to invest, kindly leave ypur checks on the King’s head ” Their Highnesses however were good sports and turned up at several subsequent auditions. They were good laugh- ers also and I was always glad of their presence. Although they didn’t invest as much as an old scepter, I realized that after all he was out of work. I have nice lingering memories of their beaming young faces and their polite inquiry, “May we come to a rehearsal?” So the auditions went on for King and Commoner as we assembled staff and cast. Agnes de Mille was all set to choreograph and then had to withdraw when her child grew mysteriously ill, turning blue, and she had to fly him to Boston where a specialist operated just in time apd thank goodness successfully. Ogden Nash and I were riding in a cab to his digs at the Harvard Club when I told him the bad hews. With an expression on his face that said everything happens to us, he blurted out, “I don’t want to sound heartless, £m a family man myself—but why didn’t he turn blue during ‘Oklahoma’?” Helen Tamaris stepped into the breach, Jose Ferrer agreed to direct the show, David Wayne and Janet Blair to star and we were off, we thought, to the races. Ken Englund £ Steyyart Chaney Productions were formed and we took a two year lease on an office in the Times Building. We deposited the checks of Sarah and Bill Lewis, now prez of Kenyon 3c Eckhardt (my first pair of investors; how proud I was!). Rise Stevens, Gladys Swarthout, Robert Keith and most of the cast of “Mr, Roberts,” Mrs. Frazer of Kaiser-Frazer, various as- sorted richies, Kook of Century Lighting, Meyer Davis, Jimmy Stroock of Brooks Costume, a program printer, six ticket brokers, but we were still thousands short so I mailed out to the local pigeons an investors’ prospectus with biographies of staff and cast and the financial setup, with an invitation to attend our next performance and invest in this surefire, money-making enterprise. Broadway to Hollywood Pitch Max Gordon, who had caught our second audition- and had liked “He And She,” had however expressed horror over the whole principle of auditioning a show for ama- teurs asking their opinions and begging for money. He said he’d get out of the theatre before he’d subject him- self to such depressing nonsense. When I replied, “But what can you do?,” he said, “You can canvass your filthy-rich Hollywood friends and fellow workers.' . You should be financed overnight!” So off sped a sackload of our surefire prospectuses to the Coast—airmail. ' ^ I cull quotes at random' from answering Letters: “Dear Ken—Your show really sounds exciting. I would loi>e to have been in itjrom the start, but just to be an itwestor on the outside neither appeals to my artistic nor financial sense. The fun of being part of it would have handsomely repaid me for a loss, if any, and I hope not. But I would get very little sat- isfaction out of making a buck at a 3,000-??nIe dis- tance.” “I’m sorry, baby, but I’ll have to pass the ‘He And She’ investment, first because the studio doesn’t like me to make private investments in shows,, purely as a mat- ter of policy, and secondly I took a look for some spare cash, and I just don’t happen to have any of it around.” “I lost all my money for investments for the next few years in my own production of the motion pic- ture ‘. . * and 1 learned my lesson not to in- vest in anything in the amusement line other than my time. You know, Ken, for many years 1 have been interested in handling you —” etc. “I tackled Elliot, Bob and Claude for you but they have all the investments they want—they are in ‘Mad Woman of Chaillot’ and ‘Anne of the Thousand Days.’ ” “. . . but thanking you for your courtesy and wishing you every success . . .” “Saw the spread in Life and I hope it helped you get over-subscribed. Since 1932 the only shows I’ve had an interest in were two musicals I did the lyrics for and they were both flops ...” “I do not feel that an investment in a musical that would run less than 5% has very much value. How- ever, if I were a rich man ...” “I am returning the prospectus ycju sent me on the show you are trying to bilk your unsuspecting friends with. I am returning it without reading it because know- ing how great a writer you are I’m afraid you’ve pre- sented the subject in such flattering terms that you would break down my resistance causing me to send you a huge check ...” “Right now we are trying to get a few hard-earned dollars of income together to take a short vacation in Hawaii ...” “We have money in two motion pictures, just added seven rooms to our house and have had a child . . .” “As much as I would enjoy the participation I just haven't got the time these days to read prospective books and listen to scores .” And, from the old gray fox and boqlevardier, Harry Kurnitz: “This is a tough time for me to invest in anything more elaborate than a three year subscription to Time. It is the season of long lingering taxation (without represen- tation, as far as I’m concerned) and I am helpless. Great good fortune .. . .” Then Eureka! “To listen to you, you would think that $1,650; grew on trees. But I am just foolish enough — or against my better judgment, have just enough faith in you—to be interested. “I am glad you found Maney up your alley. Alleys are his specialty, and they tell me he can be found lying in one next to Bleeck’s Saloon almost any night after closing. However, he is a fine, literate, if roistering, fellow and I will have his talents in mind considering your prospectus .” It was dated Feb. 25, 1949. On March 7, came the following: “Dear Ken: Sorry. My wife won’t let me. A woman of no great discernment, but considerable caution, she points out some circumstances which she describes as logical. On reading the feature in Life this week, she said, ‘At least those people had the opportunity of hear- ing the score and perhaps reading the book.’ (You see how publicity can work against you?) Maybe she’s „ right. But I am more inclined to believe that she is &j simply trying to get me to save my money so that I will ■ take her to Paris this spring—” ^ SCORE: Prospectus mailed to Hollywood —80 Investors —00 Now we became clock watchers—we had to get the dough in soon. Pressures mounted—Leland Hayward, a wonderfully sympathetic showman, had heard an audi- tion and had agreed to release David Wayne from his contract with “Mr. Roberts” but Josh Logan had to re- hearse his replacement and he kept wiring from Florida asking when he should return. Jose Ferrer was holding up other plans as was Helen Tamaris who had turned down “Gentlemen Prefer Blondes” to choreograph for us —and Janet Blair was turning down other offers—and the agents were phoning—around the clock. ~\ John Shubert to the Rescue Down Shubert Alley on his horse Quicksilver galloped John In the nick of time. Before you could say “Bretaigne Windust” we had auditioned score and sketches for Mr. Lee Shubert who agreed to put up half- the money! On this momentous occasion I didn’t ad lib the book but had actors read the material. I’ll always carry fond memories of that valiant crew of “readers” (they weren’t allowed to “act”—Equity rules) but they sold the jokes and Mr. Lee. They were Elaine Stritch, Dorothea McFar- (Continued op page 58)