James Brentwood walked onto a set and underplayed everything. In a sense he was, very simply, just himself. His voice and his looks were the greatest of assets, and women the world over were his greatest fans.
“You’re very quiet, Felix,” James said, without taking his eyes off the road.
“I was just thinking about Hollywood, how it all runs. You’ve enjoyed being here, haven’t you, Jamie?”
“I have. My fellow actors and actresses have been wonderful. Also I’ve learned a lot about making movies. It’s a special craft; I’d even call it an art.”
“So you’re saying that they do it the best here … making movies?” Felix asked.
“Not only the best, but better than the best. There’s so much creative talent and efficiency at the studios, and drive, ambition, enthusiasm, and more determination than I’ve ever seen. It’s remarkable.”
“Let’s not forget the money you’ve made, either,” Felix remarked. “These few years have been really good for your bank balance.”
* * *
A few minutes later they were turning onto Bel Air Road where James and Dulcie lived with their three children.
It was Annie Farrell, James’s assistant and secretary, who greeted them in the entrance hall, and James could tell at once that Annie was flustered, not quite her usual contained self.
“What’s happened?” James asked, peering at her intently. “Is there something the matter? Something wrong?”
“No, no, not wrong. Sort of … unexpected, I’d say. An unexpected visitor, as a matter of fact.”
Studying her acutely for a split second, noting her flushed face and the sparkle in her eyes, James thought he knew who had dropped in to see him. But he merely said, “Go on then, tell me who the visitor is, for heaven’s sake. You look as if you’re about to explode with excitement.”
“Mr. Gable,” she said at last in an awed voice. “Clark Gable, I mean.”
“Is there another Mr. Gable?” Felix asked in a teasing tone.
Annie shook her head.
James said, “Well, there is his father, Will Gable.” Grinning at them both, James asked, “Now then, Annie, come along, tell me where you put him for safety?”
Felix laughed heartily.
Annie frowned at him. “He’s sitting on the terrace, talking to Lady Dulcie,” she answered. “Mamie brought them iced tea.”
Nodding, now hurrying across the foyer, James said, “I’d better go and see him. How long has he been waiting?”
“Fifteen minutes, not much longer,” Annie replied. “He did say he was quite happy to wait for you.”
Forty-three
“Go on, go and see Clark,” Felix said, “I’ll go upstairs and have a nap.”
“Don’t be silly. He’ll be hurt if you don’t come out to the terrace to say hello,” James exclaimed. “He liked you so much when you met him last year.”
“All right, but just for a few minutes. He obviously wants to talk to you about something important.”
“He does, Felix, and I’m quite certain it’s to do with Gone with the Wind. I know he’s supposed to start shooting soon, and he’s troubled by that.”
Looking surprised, Felix asked, “Why? Every woman in the world insists he play Rhett Butler. No one else will do. He’s a shoo-in.”
“He doesn’t think that. He knows he’s got to do it, so as not to disappoint the public, the fans, or create problems for the studio. But he thinks he can’t live up to their expectations, which are unbelievably enormous. Frankly, I understand how he feels. I’d be nervous about the role myself.”
“Louis B. told me that to his knowledge this is the first time in the history of motion pictures that the public have played such an intense and integral part in the casting of a character in a movie. They just won’t accept anyone but Clark Gable.”
“They see him as Rhett Butler of course … and he certainly has all the assets. He’s tall, dark, and as handsome as hell,” James replied. “He’s all masculinity. On top of that, he has a sort of cheekiness, a wicked glint in his eye, an audacity that thrills women.”
Felix nodded. “There’s no doubt about it, he’s the greatest movie star in the world today. Male or female. And box office magic.” Taking hold of James’s arm, Felix led him across the entrance hall to the sitting room, adding, “Let’s go and cheer him up, shall we?”
“I think a pep talk would be more help, Felix. Give him a boost,” James suggested as they walked through the sitting room and out onto the terrace. This portico ran the length of the back of the house and faced the lavish garden, swimming pool, and grounds.
Dulcie was sitting with Clark and the moment she saw James walking onto the terrace she stood up, and hurried over to him, her face full of smiles.
She was wearing a peach-colored dress, his favorite color on her, and as she floated toward him James felt his heart tighten, as it always did when he had been absent for only a few hours, and saw her again. At eighteen, when they had first met, she had been a beautiful girl. Now, at thirty, she was the most gorgeous woman, the light of his life. He thought of her as the brightest star in the heavens above, or indeed on any sound stage in this town. She outshone and outdid every actress in the movie firmament, as far as he was concerned, and, if anything, he loved her more than ever after eleven years of marriage. There was no one like her, and thankfully she was his.
Dulcie came to a stop, stood on tiptoe, and kissed his cheek. “Felix and I will leave after a few minutes. Clark really needs to talk to you.”
“I realize that,” James murmured against her hair.
Felix said, “No kiss for me, then, missy?”
Dulcie stepped away from James, laughing as she did so, and went to Felix, hugged him tightly. She kissed his cheek, and said, “A few minutes and then we leave them alone, okay?”
“Okay, okay,” Felix whispered back.
All three of them walked down the terrace to Clark Gable, who had risen and was waiting for them with a huge smile on his face. After shaking Felix’s outstretched hand, and greeting him, he turned to James and they embraced, gave each other a few huge bear hugs.
“I know I’ve made a habit of this, dropping in on you unannounced,” Clark said. “But your beautiful wife says you don’t mind, Jamie.”
“No, I don’t. But surely you want something better than iced tea, Clark? Champagne, wine, Scotch?”
“Thanks, this is just fine.”
Smiling at Clark, Dulcie announced, “I have to go now. I have a few things to do, but I’ll be back before you leave.”
“I hope so,” Clark answered and continued to puff on his cigarette.
“I’ll be back later, too,” Felix interjected. “I have to make a phone call to London, before it gets too late over there.” Felix and Dulcie walked down the terrace and disappeared through the French doors into the sitting room.
* * *
James and Clark were of the same height and build, and the two of them stood side by side, shoulder to shoulder, smoking together on the terrace, staring out at the grounds without saying a word, both lost in their thoughts for a short while. Two handsome movie stars at a loss for words.
Clark suddenly said, “I really do need your help. I need to talk to you yet again about this Rhett Butler dilemma.”
“Let’s sit down and attempt to figure it out,” James suggested, and the two of them walked over to the grouping of chairs around a low table.
They sat opposite each other, and James said, “I know you’ve never wanted to star in Gone with the Wind, and the reason why. Millions of women have said they don’t want anyone else but you to play Rhett. Correct? And you’re afraid of failing them.”
“You’ve hit it right on the nose. I’m bound to disappoint somebody somewhere, and I haven’t figured out the right way to depict him.”
James nodded, but remained silent. He knew Clark well by now, and while he was not an intellectual he was an extremely intelligent man, and well read. James
was aware that Clark had read Margaret Mitchell’s book many times and was puzzled by Rhett Butler and how to interpret him on the screen. And then it unexpectedly came to him.
Stubbing out the cigarette in an ashtray, James leaned forward and said with some intensity, “I think I have the best suggestion for you, Clark. And it is this. You should walk out onto that set and just be yourself. Those women who have written to the studio say that they want Clark Gable. YOU. Yes, they do want YOU to play Rhett Butler. But who is he actually? This Rhett? He’s a man on paper, in a book, and the way Margaret Mitchell described him in words kind of resembles you, as you are right now sitting here opposite me. All man, very masculine, virile, sexually potent. But you’re also a man’s man. Just look back over the past two years.
“Since 1937 you’ve been a kind of national mania, so very popular. And men like you, too. You’re the people’s choice, also public affection for you is given unconditionally. You’re their hero, Clark. I’ve seen you at public appearances and the public are euphoric with love for YOU. Not Rhett Butler. Go and be—”
James cut himself off, and chuckled before saying, “Be Blackie Norton in San Francisco, if I can put it that way. You wowed them in that movie and you were playing yourself then.”
Clark was astounded, sat staring at James, looking somewhat bemused. And then he threw back his head and roared with laughter. A moment later, he said, still sounding amused, “So that’s it? That’s all I have to do? Be myself?”
“Exactly.”
Chuckling again, Gable said, “I’ve told David Selznick I won’t be able to fake a Southern accent. I could never master that. I’d make a fool of myself.”
“I agree. Just be you. Tell Carole what I’ve said, get her take on it.”
“I think she’ll agree with you,” Clark answered. “Anyway, I do believe this sudden solution to my problem deserves a toast. Shall we go inside to that bar of yours and have a drink?”
James jumped up, looking pleased. “I think the occasion calls for champagne.”
* * *
The two men strolled off the terrace into the house, making for the den. It was a room with strong masculine overtones, decorated in a mixture of rich cream tones, dark coral, and burgundy. There was a large Georgian desk, piled high with scripts, lots of family photographs, several bookcases, and many treasured mementos that signified this was James’s private haven. A grouping of armchairs and a large sofa covered in cream fabric stood close to the fireplace; the bar was at the far end of the room.
Whenever James and Dulcie gave a party the men always gravitated to the bar, and James walked over to it now. Addressing Clark, he asked, “How about a glass of bubbly? Or do you want something stonger?”
“I think I’d prefer a Jack Daniel’s, please,” Clark replied.
“Good idea. I’ll have the same.”
Clark stepped over to the window and looked out at the grounds, and after a moment he remarked, “I’m glad you’re not selling the house, James. This reassures me you’re coming back to Hollywood.”
Laughing, James said, “I have to come back, since I’m now under contract to MGM. Again.”
“I know you are, but MGM’s the biggest, the best, and the most powerful studio in town. It dominates the industry, and that’s where you should be. There at Metro with me. Anyway, this house can only grow in value, because of the way the industry’s booming.”
Clark swung his head, glanced at James. “And Bel Air is a good place to live. I found it quiet and secluded when I rented that house here last year. Carole also rented one, as you well know, and we had total privacy.”
Carrying the drinks over to the window, James handed one to Clark. The two men clinked glasses, and Clark said, “Here’s to your ingenious idea, James. Rhett Butler played as myself.”
James grinned. “Just think of the way you succeeded doing that in San Francisco. It’s become one of the highest-grossing movies in history, and you were wonderful … as yourself being Blackie Norton.”
“Thanks for that, but Spence took the movie. It was his all the way. He was great; he’s the best.”
“You and Tracy work very well together, you’re a terrific team. But I couldn’t help wondering why Jeanette MacDonald was cast in it. A strange choice.”
Clark groaned, and then grimaced. “I wasn’t crazy about her. Never mind, Spence was wonderful. All he has to do is just stand there, doing nothing, saying nothing. It’s the emotion he manages to convey just with his eyes, the expressions on his face.”
“I know what you mean.” James moved toward the armchairs, and lowered himself into one. Clark followed suit, placed his glass on a side table, took out a gold cigarette case and then a cigarette, and lit it.
James sat studying him for a moment, thinking what an unusual man Clark Gable was. Women all over the world worshipped him. Men admired him. He was a man’s man, a woman’s man. And everyone respected him, treated him like a king, and that was how they referred to him: the King. What was phenomenal was the adulation the public showed for him; it had never been at this level for any movie star ever, or anyone else for that matter, be it sportsman or politician. And yet despite this, and his overwhelming fame, James knew very well what a shy man Clark was, and a worrier. He was also down to earth, thoughtful of people and kind to them. Crews loved him; he was the ultimate professional. He was always on time, had never been late on a set in his life; he knew his lines and put everything into his performance. Clark was totally lacking in temperament, never showed impatience, unless an actor or actress was perpetually late, or constantly fluffed their lines.
Clark had suddenly become aware of James’s fixed scrutiny. “You’re really giving me the once-over, James. I wish I knew what you were thinking. Hey, old buddy, what gives?” Clark’s light gray eyes were riveted on James.
“I was thinking that you are one of the most decent men I’ve ever met. We have a saying in England. When we genuinely admire someone for his standards, we call him ‘true-blue.’ And that’s what you are, Clark. True-blue. I’m so glad we met, became good friends.”
“Well, thank you for those kind words.” Unexpectedly, Clark began to chuckle, and hilariously so. Once he’d managed to curb his buoyant laughter, he said, “I think met is an odd word to use, under the circumstances. You literally stumbled over me.”
James also laughed. “Oh God, yes! I’ll never forget that Saturday afternoon in Rory Gallagher’s garage in Santa Monica. There I was, standing in his body shop, going on about the pinging noises in my Jaguar, and becoming more and more impressed with his knowledge of engines. Then he asked me to come to the back of the shop with him … he wanted to show me something. And clumsy fool that I am, I tripped over two long legs in blue jeans and highly polished Texas boots sticking out from under a car, and fell flat on my face. And then I heard one of the most famous voices in Hollywood exclaiming, ‘What the hell’s going on here?’ And Clark Gable was helping me up off the floor, worrying aloud about the gash on my forehead, all the blood flowing. You were very concerned.”
“I recognized you; I knew you were in the middle of a movie. Of course, I was worried. That’s why I got you to my doctor immediately.”
“And thanks again for that.” James shook his head, a twinkle in his eye as he remarked, “Imagine my surprise to discover Clark Gable stretched out underneath a car, fiddling with its innards.”
Clark had the good grace to chuckle. “Mechanics. A hobby of mine.” He took a sip of his drink.
“You’re one of us, Jamie, one of the good guys, without pretensions. You’ve touched the rainbow without selling your soul.” Clark paused, swallowed some of the Jack Daniel’s, and changed the subject. “If I had a script I’d feel better about playing Rhett.”
“I understand. And I’ve heard there are dozens of scripts, various versions. It that true?”
“Not quite dozens, but a lot. I have a feeling the best one is the first one, written two years ago by Sidney Howard. But Sel
znick hasn’t been happy with any of them. Still, I do trust his judgment. He’s a good producer.”
“Principal photography starts next week, doesn’t it? Isn’t there a shooting script yet?”
“Not that I know of,” Clark answered. “But fortunately I don’t go before the cameras until January the thirty-first. Perhaps a miracle will have happened by then. Right now I’m depending on the book. As I’ve said to you so many times, I don’t want to disappoint the public, that’s my main concern.”
“Listen to me, Clark, you can’t go wrong. I keep telling you, you are Rhett Butler to the public. Think of him this way … Captain Rhett Butler, caught in the midst of the Civil War. Courageous. Sententious. A gentleman, a charmer, an adventurer, a man who loves women, who love him in return. A man’s man. If you regard him in terms of a dashing riverboat gambler of that period, you’ll have it down pat.”
“From your mouth to God’s ears,” Clark responded. “And thanks for your tips, they’re much appreciated, James.”
“You’ll be fine, just try to be relaxed.”
“I will. And to be honest, there was no way out for me. I was trapped because I’m a contract player at MGM, and I can be loaned out to another studio anytime MGM wants to do that. Selznick was bugging Louis B., his father-in-law, to loan me to Selznick International and finally MGM agreed. Because they longed to be part of Gone with the Wind. They also loaned David O. one and a quarter million dollars, half of the budget, which he badly needed, and managed to get distribution rights as well. L.B. did all right.”
Clark paused, and then added quietly, “I won, too, in a sense, because L.B. and David O. helped me with my very worrying marital problems last year. They made an arrangement with my wife, Ria, to give me an amicable divorce.”
A sudden smile swept across Gable’s handsome face, which instantly dimpled. He leaned closer to James, and said, “Confidentially, just between us, I am going to marry Carole Lombard. Soon. You see, when I met Carole I fell in love for the first time in my life. And she fell in love with me, her Big Lug, she calls me.”
The Cavendon Luck Page 30