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Memo to John Garfield
Continued from page 22
why, as actor-producer of "Body and Soul," you do not get, because you did not take, the producing credit.
Asked the "why" of this omission, you said, "I have a funny feeling about that. I believe that as long as you're an actor you should let well enough alone. As an actor in, as well as a producer of, 'Body and Soul' billing as an actor is, I figure, enough and also — well, a little more modest, don't you think? Besides, my feeling is that a picture is not, ever, an individual effort. But is, always, a co-operative effort. Its success depends, not on one man or woman, but on all the men and women, from props to producer, connected with the making of the film.
"In other words, I don't believe you are the boss just because you are the producer. That boss-angle — I think that's a dangerous thing. It's presuming you are the Genius. It's playing the dictator. I'm not a genius. Maybe some men are, not me. I can't play dictator. Maybe some men can, not me. As a producer, you must be qualified to make decisions, or help make them, so what you do is sit down with people, with all the people involved, hash it out, kick it around — the way we worked on 'Body and Soul.' Anyway I, as a producer, had a vote, but," you grinned, "I will say I often got voted down!"
You've always been afraid of the "boss angle," John. You still are. You used to be afraid of Hollywood. You were afraid — "I still am" — of big money. You say, "I don't think you can take it without losing something. Something I don't want to lose."
When, fresh out of the New York theater, you were making your first pictures in Hollywood: "Four Daughters," "They Made Me A Criminal," "Juarez," etc. — you were very serious about the whole thing. "Between takes on the set," you kidded yourself, reminiscently, "there were no gin rummy games for me. I used to rehearse all the time! When I got too arty for my good, or her comfort, at home, my wife's favorite squelch was, 'You're talking like a Group actor!' "
No longer above a game of gin rummy on the set, you still take your job seriously, very seriously. You still believe that Hollywood is a place where an actor has to watch his step — "Or he'll trade his birthright for a mess of pottage." T© you, an actor's birthright is his integrity. His clean, hard ambition to do fine things. Honest things. And the "mess of pottage" to which you refer is made of "fat salaries, fine cars, a luxurious home, swimming pools, lush parties, furs, jewels, custom-made suits and loss of perspective."
"If I can't make, and act, in pictures I believe in making, say lines I can believe in, I'm leaving pictures," you say. "Or, if ever I feel success is going to my head, I'll leave, too. I'm human and I may succumb. Maybe I'm not big enough to keep my perspective. If not — "
You seem to be hanging on to it, John. You've never bought a house in Hollywood. You rent one, comfortable but modest. Your car: "It gets me around,"
you say. Your one extravagance is books. The blurb, smacking of press-agentry, that you built bookshelves in your bathroom, is a fact. Your idea of a good time is to get dressed in old clothes and, with Robbie, your wife, go down to Chinatown and "Eat all the Chinese foods." Or you go to the beach "With the wife and kids — daughter Julie, son David — fry hot dogs and, in the name of fun, eat 'em with sand." You stay away from giving or going to big parties because "One of my fears is of meeting new people. I can't make small talk, so never know what to say to strangers."
Your earliest memory is of making a bet with some neighborhood kid that you could run around Bronx Park five times without stopping. You made it once then, winded, not again. You believe that this failure, at the age of eight or ten, is at the root of the inferiority complex from which you suffered "Like a raging toothache."
And, although in somewhat lesser degree, still suffer. Asked today whether you have an inferiority your answer is a fervent "Boy, have I!" You add, "One of the reasons I became an actor, I wanted to show I didn't have it, so I got up and stood on my head!"
You have, of course, no personal vanity whatsoever. You often remark how much easier it would have been for you to get a start on stage or screen "If I'd been good-looking." It is true that you are not good-looking in the category of, say, Cornel Wilde, Richard Greene, Tyrone Power; but in the school of, say, Spencer Tracy, Jimmy Cagney your olive skin, dark brown eyes and the smile that warms your face like the sun is on it is the kind of good looks that, on a man, looks good!
A realist as ever was, and rugged, when you were making "Body and Soul" you stuck out — not a double's chin, no pun intended, but your own and took it on the chin with, literally, a boom! You were "mixing it" with former welterweight title contender Art Dorrell when you receipted for the unscripted knockout punch. Which same you asked for since, just before the cameras started turning for a closeup of the action, you told Dorrell (I was on the set, I heard you) "Let's really mix it this time!"
During the melee that followed Dorrell connected with the well-known "hard right to the jaw." Your head jerked back, struck against the camera boom that was hanging over the set in order to get a close closeup of the punches, and when you hit the floor you were unconscious. You regained consciousness immediately but when the doctor got there, he found it necessary to take six stitches in your head. You were sent home. The next day, you were back at work again — not in the fight sequences but, until you could put on the gloves again, making love to one of your leading ladies, new discovery Hazel Brooks.
You prefer city life to life in the country. "I'll go back to the land," you say, "when I am an old man. City life is more exciting to me than country life,
82
ScREENLAND