Photoplay (Jan-Jun 1948)

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The Magic of McCarey ( Continued from page 86) at a piano and plays old tunes. The cast gathers around and hums. “Now, in this next scene,” says McCarey, absent-mindedly, “how would it be if. . . .” His “how would it be if” is an improvisation, a brand-new idea, which is not in the script, and which is likely to change the entire story line of a two-milliondollar picture. That’s how “Going My Way” was made. Same with “The Bells of St. Mary’s” and his other pictures. THE fact that the son of a prize-fight promoter and the director of many films that turned the Hays Office into a worrywart has become the No. 1 maker of religious pictures is not a paradox. The origin of “Bells” is heart-close to Leo McCarey. He had a sister, a beautiful girl, who was very deeply religious and who became a nun. The father was surprised but approving, and he did something about it. He called in Jack Johnson, Sam -Langford, Joe Jeannette and a few other top-flight prize fighters of the day, explained the situation to them, and said, “How would it be if . . ?” So they put on a benefit performance. The result was a great many thousand dollars which Leo’s father used to found the Convent of the Sacred Heart, one of the finest schools in the West. The sister died two weeks before the convent opened. She was a good-humored, intensely religious girl who liked to laugh. She had taken the name of Sister Mary Benedict. Ingrid Bergman is a beautiful, goodhumored, intensely religious nun in “The Bells of St. Mary’s.” Leo McCarey gave her the name of Sister Mary Benedict. Aside from making pictures, Leo McCarey spends as little time in Hollywood as possible. He and his wife Stella Martin (his high school sweetheart) and pretty daughter Mary shuttle between Lake Arrowhead and the beach. They ride horses and surf boards, swim and kid each other. In town, when good conversation and story-telling lure him into the bistros, Leo consorts with old friends Dave Butler, Buddy De Sylva, Gene Fowler, Bill Fields and other rugged gentry who can talk heroically about fighters, horses and the theater. Leo’s father, widely known as “Uncle Tom,” sent him to the University of Southern California to learn the law. Leo took four years to complete a three-year course, but explained to Uncle Tom that he was taking special studies which would make him superior to the ill-prepared three-year students. He won only once in his entire legal career. He represented the defendant in an attack case. “I argued so glibly about how much he loved this li’l gal,” says Leo, “that the judge married ’em on the spot. My client wanted to beat me up after court. Said he’d rather have had thirty years. I didn’t get to handle the divorce.” He worked for a San Francisco law firm and made a meager living for himself and young wife by beating the office boy to work every morning in order to grab all the summonses that were ready to serve. Evenings, he wrote songs, which didn’t pay, and played pool, which did. It was Butler who got him in pictures, after songs, law, and pool-playing failed as steady careers. Leo started as a second assistant director at Universal, became head of the Hal Roach studio, discovered and teamed Laurel and Hardy, and became one of the great comedy directors of all time. There is a story around Hollywood that he once aspired to be a prizefighter, inspired, no doubt, by the fact that he is indubitably good with his dukes. “ ’Tain’t so,” says Leo. “I weighed 126 as a kid, the limit in my class, and I boxed in the gyms. On fight nights, I drank three malted milks, which made me weigh 128. So they always threw me out. I never came closer to a championship than those malted milks.” He can’t remember names. In a restaurant once with Butler, he saw a friend approaching. “Quick,” he whispered, “what’s that fellow’s name? I know it but I can’t say it.” “It’s Fred Astaire.” Leo called Astaire over. “I want you to know a friend of mine, Fred,” he began. “Mr. Astaire, this is Mr. . . . Say, now I’ve forgotten your name.” He imitates whomever he is talking about, and he spins yams with the skill of a professional raconteur. He maintains his membership in the Los Angeles bar, but claims he can’t write a contract. He is a soft touch for a songwriter with talent, or for anybody with talent, but not for the no-talent brigade. He made $12,000 a year more as the Laurel and Hardy producer than he makes now — because of taxes. And he thinks it’s a joke. He’s world-famous today for two pictures about the church. He was desperate about what to do after “Going My Way” until he received a note from a chaplain on a Pacific Island, a Father Pat Duffey. “I think I can read your mind,” wrote Father Duffey 4,000 miles away. “Just remember that religion can’t be exhausted in a two-hour show.” So he remembered Sister Mary Benedict and made “The Bells of St. Mary’s,” with Ingrid Bergman and Bing Crosby. Now he is stuck again, but he is mulling an idea for a story with three priests in it. Some day he’ll say quietly, “Say, how would it be if. . . .” And the chances are he will come up with another Photoplay Gold Medal Award winner! The End THE TIME OF YOUR LIFE is what you’ll have when you read Eleanor Harris’s lively account of her visit with Batty appearing in The Strange Woman, starring Hedy A Hunt Stromberg Production, produced by Jack Chertok. 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