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Susan prefers Dan Dailey sitting down. Love scenes with 6 feet 3 Dan are neck-breaking.
Susan and Ty Power in "Rawhide." She spent several days on her stomach under a bunk.
SUSAN HAYWARD is, to the naked eye, a lady who might be called "fragile." She is delicately formed, tiny, and has an air of appealing helplessness. So positive is this impression that producers have been known to pause thoughtfully before casting her in films which demand anything more strenuous than a square dance, and leading men have approached her with the same care they would use on the original bust of Queen Nefertite.
All of this causes bursts of glee in some Hollywood quarters, and those quarters include the abode of Susan herself. For Miss Hayward is about as fragile as a ten-ton truck. And, for the sake of her profession, she will blissfully attempt anything. Absolutely anything.
This word is slowly getting about in cinema circles. And Susan's recent chores have been such as to make her the recipient of a gross of St. Christopher medals.
For example, she just completed "David And Bathsheba." It's a lush tale laid in Biblical times, and its original story came from the Good Book itself, of course. Greg Peck — loaded down with jewels — plays David and Susan plays his not-too-acceptable love.
Among such minor details as an entire populace storming the palace and demanding that Susan be given up (to be stoned to death) and battle scenes wherein the boys let fly with everything from knives to 100-pound rocks, David takes his lady for an airing.
It's quite a jaunt. For, instead of a hot rod, David's buggy is a chariot — drawn by two horses. And you don't sit in a chariot, you may remember. You stand. Bumps and all.
The day they shot this little outing, Mr. Peck was slightly nervous, not being an old chariot hand. The horses were also nervous, not exactly sure what the gizmo behind them was. And Susan? Well, Susan thought it was wonderful. When Peck cracked the whip and the two nags lunged forward, she hung on for dear life and yelped with delight. It was very clear to all concerned that she was having a ball. "Fragile," eh?
Then there was the time on location when an enterprising freelance photographer — who should have had his head examined — swooped low over the company in a plane. This not only loused up the shot in process but caused a covey of camels used in the film to decide to get away from it all. They took off in all directions, while Susan, Greg and the rest ran (Please turn to page 66)
With Bill Lundigan in 20th's "I'd Climb The Highest Mountain." Susan slipped while climbing, was almost killed.
At the Radio Theatre in Hollywood with Dana Andrews. She's been beseiged by bandits, captured by pirates.