Variety (January 1951)

By HENRY king Hollywood. King /David nnd King Solomon Led merry, merry lives ; With concubines and inntage wines And half a thoU$and wives But When old age o’eriobk them With its . many qua,lms ' • King SolomOn wrote the. proverbs And David wrote the psalms! Two years ago this doggerel, illustrating the thesis that it’s pretty easy to start moralizing to the livelier members about the errors of their ways \yhen you get to the point where you can't make the grade yourself any Jongetj would have constituted a considerable part of my ready knowb edge about the Biblical David and his son Solomon. That was two years ago, Well, anybody here want to know anything about King David now: Boy, I’m loaded. The. fact that my exhaustive fund of information on the subject seems to have been acquired coincident with my direction of a picture called ‘‘David and Bathsheba” for 20th-Fox,; is a mere happenstance. Small world after all, isn’t it? A , fast man with a sword and a hard boy to beat at r6ugh-and-tumble international politics, David also was a real killer with the ladies. The tabloid editors Of his day must have loved him. His ability to qualify himself as ..the world’s first charter member of the Hole-In-One Club by bouncing a doorknob off of Goliath’s pumpkin haid was a minor accomplishment compared to his prodigies in the field ■uf.amour.-’. ■•■ ■■ > He seems to .have combined the killer instinct of Sonny Boy Wisecarver, the ring generalship Of Whataman Hudson, and the shifty, weaving infighting style of Casanova with the staying power of Tommy Manville. Funny thing is that in doing preliminary research for a film based on historical characters, such as “David and Bathsheba,’’ you’ll find that the more scholarly and profound your reference reading becomes, the more cplorful and piquant become the facts which emerge. Henry King Respect for Researchers During the exhaustive research which preceded and accompanied filming of the picture I acquired a respect amounting to awe for my reseaJ^cherS. The Bible is basic, of course. They started off with that, with special focus on the Book of Bamuel. But this was only the beginning. Then came some light reading such as Bruno Baentsch’s “David tind sein Zeitalter’’; Rudolf Kittel’s “GeschiChte des Volkes Israel”; W. Robertson Smith’s “The Religion of the Semites”; H. P, Smith’s “Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Books of Samuel” (I’d love to see that on a marquee ) ; A. R. S. Kennedy’s “Introduction and Notes to the Books of Samuel”; the histories of Herodotus, and, of course, dozens of other volumes which took weeks of research to just find, no less read. The strange thing about all this heavy reading is that it is really fascinating and out of it has come enough material for a dozen. stories on David or Bathsheba. What a pair they made! Take David, for instance. Unquestionably one of the great artists of history, the beauty of his psalms is probably rivalled only by the poetry of his son, Solomon, whose mother was Bathsheba. David was one of the great soldiers of all time, his brilliant strategy crushing the mighty Philistine Empire, although greatly outnumbered. As a politician the red-headed ruler was tops. He had to be in order to weld the 12 tribes of Israel and Judah, which had split into two jealous factions after the death of Saul, back into one nation more solidified than it had ever been before. And, as a lover, well, that calls for another paragraph. To put it mildly, David was a man of affairs, a list of which would make any of our glamor playboys seem like rejected members of a stag line, while driving Lolly Parsons mad in an effort to keep up with his latest fling. When he was in his early teens, the boy, then a shepherd, captured the love of Rachel, comely wife of a neighboring farmer. David wisely timed his amoral Visits to coincide with the farmer’s absence, thus managing to live to knock off Goliath. The latter, feat brought him King Saul’s younger daughter, Mlchal, as his wife. They soon pffft and split up when Saul and David quarreled, the latter going into exile with an unruly band of outlaws under the command of David’s nephew, Joab. Chased all oyer the country by Saul, David’s army was on the verge of starvatibn. But this was where the lad’s sway over the ladies came in handy, When a wealthy landowner, Nabal, refused TO help out with supplies, David batted his eyes at Abigail, Nabal’s wife. The next day came a long procession of donkeys bearing bread, flour, mutton; figs and wine, enough for the whole band. And When Nabal .conveniently died a few days later, David promptly married the widow. I Still Anblher Wife I Spon after that, he took another wife, Ahinoam, daughter or a prominent family in southerm •Judah, which, helppd his cause in that part of the country. When. Saul was killed by . the Philistines, David became King of Judah ^ Wives, all of them daughters of meighboring kings./ Sopn after that he reclaimed his first wife, Michal, thus establishing a legiti-^ to-the throne of Israel. And, When Joab T ^ u military commander, David united Judah and Israel into one kingdom under his own rule. It was. then that Philistia, jealous . of the country’s growing ^trength, struck and was destroyed by David’s forces. But, to Continue with David’s affairs, there was also Bathsheba, David’s one true, great love. And what a woman she was! Beautiful, she also had a shrewd important, she knew what she wanted. Bathsheba wanted power and set out to get it. The Forty-fifth p^^SiiETY Anniversary Wife of Uriah, a Hittite officer in Israel’s army, she, according to some sources, first made a play for Joab, now commander-in-chief of Israel’s forces, and second most powerful man in the country. But when Joab’s ethics wouldn’t allow him to play around with the wife of one of his officers, Bathsheba went after the top man himself. She talked her husband into buying the house right next to. David’s palace. Then, when Uriah went off to war, she proceeded to lug her bathtub up to the roof and take a bath. It was purely by accident, you understand, that David saw her in the tub. But what happened after that was no accident. He promptly sent for Bathsheba and soon found that lie was on the way toward fatherhood. He also dis* covered that Bathsheba had other ideas than being merely his mistress. Being a realist and realizing he could not afford a scandal, David sent a message to Joab. The result was that Uriah was sent to lead a charge against the enemy. Pursuing the Ammonites, Uriah suddenly found, his men falling, back in response to a signal, while ho was left alone with the enemy. And So Bathsheba became a widow. And if this seernk unduly cruel and treacherous. We must remember that this was an age in which men took what they wanted and the hell with anyone in their way, Bathsheba’s child didn’t live, but a later one, Solomon, did, And Bathsheba’s conniving and intriguing to make sure that Solomon was chosen as David’s heir would make Machiavelli look like Henry Wallace as a politician. David, as seems true with So many great mer, was a tragic figure as well as an heroic and a romantic one. In his old age, he saw his favorite and beloved son, Absalom, rise in revolt against him. And he wept bitter tears when his son was stabbed to death by the ruthless and uncompromising Joab, Yes, there are many film Stories that could be made, on the life of David or on Bathsheba. I hope I’ve managed to get one good one based on the lives of both. Binld Schulberff Another B’way By HY GARDNER Whenever the office phone rings after 6 p.m., I know it’s a call for the Favor Department. Easily 90% of the requests are for either theaitre or teevee tickets or a hotel reservation —the balance equally divided between arranging blind dates, buying a television set at 30% off list price or arranging for some over-developed blonde with an under-developed mind to audition for a job in the chorus or take over Bergman’s roles when Ingrid retires. So I wasn’t too surprised When I picked up the receiver late the other afternoon to hear the voice of a Colonel under whose command I once sweated out five miserable months. . “Dp you remember me, Captain?” he Said. ,“How could I forget you Sir,” I answered, “what are you doing Colonel; back on your bookeeping job or still goldbricking the Government?” He chuckled. “I see you haven’t lost your sense of humor.” “Who’s kidding?” I replied. “But seriously, pal, what can I do for you?” “Well,” came the inevitable pitch, “I just returned from Tokyo. I’m in town for only one night and I thought perhaps you could plan an evening for me. You know, Gardner, a show maybe, a nightclub, you got the idea.” For a few moments I was sileht. A montage of all the unhappy moments the stuffy officer gave me during the war flashed through my mind. And my brain went into one of those tussles that have been the theme for so many of those psychiatric B-pictures. Finally the past compromised with the present. “Colonel,” I said cheerily, “sorry I can’t have a cocktail with you— but you give me 15 minutes, then drop up to my office, and I’ll fix you up like you’ve never been fixed up before.” “I always thought you were a nice guy,” the Colonel said gratefully. “I wish I could say the same for you,” my voice smiled back. In practically no time at all there was a knock on the door and there, with more ribbons oh his chest than a prize-winning Bedlington (if the breed will forgive me the analogy) stood an old nightmare making a personal appearance. Since there were no newsreels around, I shook hands— briefed the brasshat for his Broadway maneuver and then apologized that I was up against a deadlinfe— would he mind if I cut our reunion short. Wednesday, January 3, 1951 So You’re a No. 1 Bestseller By BUDD SCHULBERG New Hope, Pa, These past six weeks have been a little on the frantic side. Next time a book comes out I should probably be in La Paz or Tierra del Fuego or somewhere away from phones, radio stations, cities, colleges and people in general. When ”The Disenchanted” hit No. 1 the N. Y. Times called to find put how I was taking this success. 1 told them I would be dismayed if I wasn’t counting on the whole thing to blow •over. . You know what I mean. I don’t wan’t to sound snooty about the reception of the book. I’m delighted, if somewhat flabbergasted, by the sale, and I’m flattered, if sometimes less than stimulated, by the general enthusiasm of the press. . Has the hullabaloa about “The Disenchanted” changed your life I was asked. Well, not at all in the long run, but profoundly right now. I don’t think people change too much after 35, no matter what happens to them. I tl^ink a writer is pretty well Set in his ways by the time lie’s 30. If success is going to break him down, it probably already will have done so. If he thinks of his work in terms of thC; long-pull, then he may have to figure on a little or a lot of success, just as he will undoubtedly have to figure on a little or a lot of failure. But in the short run, I told the Times, things like this happen: someone calls and wants to know if you’d like to write a comic strip. All kinds of people are ready to go into partnership wifh y Oh. Hollywood calls you. Harvard calls you. You get a long-distance call from Texas from an old friend who only wants to borrow a grand. You get a chance to go on all the radio and TV programs. Writers you respect send you good lettex’s that ought to be answered. People your photograph rushed oif to them by three d’clpck. Why not cash in with a lecture tour, says one letter. We’ll pay a record price for one TV script a month,, you’re told. Here’s a little writing job you could just knock off without leaving your farm, an agent tempts you. You find yourself, in spite of all your good intentions, not working. You find yourself, despite your belief in as simple a setup as possible, hiring a secr retary. You find yourself, instead of sweating out the notes for the new book, engaged in a somewhat feverish correspondence With the people in Hollywood who want to do your last book. And you’re a, little ashamed to find yourself, in contradiction to your convictions about writing the best you can and letting the chips fall where they may, turning to the best-seller list to see if you’re still on top. In short, you find yourselves lost, or nearly lost, for the moment. You can underline that for the moment. For sooner or later the letters dribble off, the phone calls swing back to normal, nobody cares what you look like or whether you can be in Cleveland a week from Friday. It has blown over. Ah. You take a deep breath. And go back to work. Nice Maneuvering I As Soon as the Colonel walked but of the door, I strolled over to my file marked -Army Business, Per^ sonal” and put a red line through the name Colonel D -. The score was even. For the night on, the town I’d arranged for the gent, included dinner at the Cotillion Room, (which doesn’t open on Monday nights), two frontrrow seats for thfe play the critics voted most likely to recede, a ringside table at the Paradise, (recently shuttered )— and a clubhouse pass for the Roosevelt RaceWay* now closed for the season. For a coup de grace, I also arranged transportation for the Colonel to get to Garden City via the Long Island Railroad— hoping their . service Would be down to its usual unusual standards. A very satisfied gent, I then proceeded to my typewriter—convinced that the Colonel would never darken my telephone extension again. As Usual I was wrong. ; ; When I got to work the next morning, a telegram was sitting on top of my other mail. I opened it casually, punctuated my thoughts with arched eyebrows, returned to my war stuff file and eliminated the red line through Colonel D’s name, For the teiegram merely thanked me for my courtesy of the night before, followed by a flowery apology. “A few miriutes after I left you,” it road, “I ran into some old cronies. What with reminiscing and swapping adventures, I , didn’t get to either see the show, eat at those fine restaurants as your guest or use the railroad tickets to Visit Long Island. Nevertheless, I want yoU to know I appreciate your fellowship and you can be sure, Major, that you’ll be one of the first reserve officers I’ll requisition when I get my own command.” On the Broadway Sidelines By KELCEY ALLEN A drama critic died and his body was taken to the cemetei'y. Burial was postponed for a week and when the superintendent asked the reason he was informed by the chief gravedigger that he had had a tough job finding a grave on the aisle. ; * • )ti An Englishman Went to the boxoffice of the Majestic Theatre where ''South Pacific'* was playing and asked for two seats for any evening performance during the week. The seats must be between the third or sixth stalls in the centre. He was politely informed that there loas nothing left. "Have you got stalls in the right gangway or in the left gangway?'*, he asked. 'The treasurer informed him that there were no seats in the theatre for the next month. "Dammed bad manr a.gement," the Englishman replied. * * )ti A firmly established dramatic star was sought by several film producers, but he turned down all Hollywood offers with the statement that he considered “motion picture acting a very low art.”. He soon inet young actors who were Winning fame and earning big money acting for the screen and he decided that he was wrong in his deci.sion about films. Although he did not receive any more picture offers, he decided to. go to Hollywood. His standing in the legitimate^ theatre got him several interviews with important directors and he, was engaged by one for an important role in a new plcturci The director, however, said to him. “There is a great difference in acting for the SGiben and acting, on the stage. May I ask if you: had any experience in acting without an audience?” “Well,” replied the actor, “that’s what brought me out to Hollywood.” * * ■' * A' manufacturer of , furs .went to the boxoffice of a Broadway theatre and asked for two seats in .the or‘ chestra, "I don't care what they cost, only please don’t give me the last row.'* A^he treasurer said, "I can take good care of you.'* After the first act was bver the manufacturer weint boxoffice and; abused hiiti in a loud voice, Didnt I tell you not to give vie the last row hut you aia,_ you dirty bum," was one of his mildest expressions. Let me see your coupons," said the treasurer. "They!re not in the. last row, these are Row J, That is not the .last row-'* “ j t's the last , row • tonight," was the retort <5T the de* parting patron. >lc . One of the late George Bernard Shaw’s .writings was given little publicity. It was as follows: “I hereby, resign as dramatic critic of the Saturday Review as I find that the work takes up my evenings.” >|c ■ _ A newspaperman said the only reason he was appointed d^ma critic was that he was the only man on the paper who owned a .dress suit. Had it been a new one he would be made the grand opera critic.