Margaret Mitchell & John Marsh

by Marianne Walker

  In the fall of 1936, when he instructed Kay to start the casting campaign for unknown actors, he warned her, “Copperfield and Tom Sawyer have been child’s play by comparison. You had better get yourself prepared accordingly.”12 But Kay was not prepared for the gale force the Gone With the Wind fans exerted on her and everyone involved in the production. She was shocked when one thousand hopefuls showed up for the first audition. The most frightening experience in her life came one evening when a crazed man waved a pistol at her saying, “I want to play Rhett Butler.” She told him that she would see to it and dashed out and called the police.13

  While Kay, Charles Morrison, and Oscar Serlin combed little theaters and high school and college drama classes all over the country searching for talent, Selznick selected a team of experts to help him pull his extravagant endeavor together.14 By the end of October 1936, he announced that George Cukor would direct the film. Having just directed Greta Garbo in MGM’s Camille, Cukor had a reputation for being the ideal director for female actors.

  When it came to getting a screenplay writer, Selznick asked Merian Cooper to help him get Sidney Howard, the Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright. Formerly from Macon and Athens, Georgia, Cooper had read Gone With the Wind and thought it was “the most supreme book written on courage in the English language.”15 With his enthusiasm for the story, Cooper easily convinced his friend Howard, with whom he had flown during World War I, to adapt the novel for the screen. In a news release, Selznick described Howard as “the best constructionist around right now” and said he would be paid $22,500 for the script.16 With a reputation for producing work of the highest quality in a narrow time frame, Howard could set the rules by which he would work. Much to Selznick’s consternation, he refused to work in Hollywood, where he knew Selznick, who had an obsessive compulsion to control every aspect of whatever film he was making, would be looking over his shoulder and distracting him.17 Howard worked either in his home in New York City or in his farmhouse in Massachusetts.

  The Marshes were delighted to learn that the book had fallen into the hands of a writer with such an impeccable reputation, for that meant the script would be good.

  In his first letter to Peggy on November 25, 1936, Howard told her how sincerely he admired her novel and that he liked the idea of making it into a picture, adding, “as who would not.” Planning to go to Atlanta with George Cukor and Kay Brown around the first of December 1936, he looked forward to meeting her and asked if she would help him if he felt obliged to write any additional dialogue for the Negro characters. “Those are the best written darkies, I do believe, in all literature,” he wrote. “They are the only ones I have ever read which seem to come through uncolored by white patronising.”18 He also asked if she would read his first layout of material and tell him what she thought of the script, and he hoped that she would continue to read the script as it developed.

  The Marshes had no intention of becoming involved with the script. In response to Howard’s letter, Peggy reiterated:

  When I sold the book to the Selznick Company, I made it very plain that I would have nothing whatsoever to do with the picture, nothing on backgrounds, costumes, continuity. They offered me money to go to Hollywood to write additional dialogue, etc. and I refused. I sold the book on that understanding. Not more than a week ago, I wrote Miss Katharine Brown . . . and asked her if you were familiar with my attitude and she wired me that you were. But now your letter arrives and I realize that they have not told you. . . .19

  She told Howard that she knew no more about writing scripts than she did about writing “Sanscrit grammar,” and besides, she did not have time to read a script, much less help write one. “I never dreamed writing a book meant losing all privacy, leisure and chance to rest. Since July 1, I’ve averaged an engagement every forty minutes from nine in the morning till long after midnight. And, between those engagements, I’ve had to handle an enormous mail and try to see my family,” she wrote.

  It is true that a film script is a radically different literary form than a novel, and it is also true that by this time Peggy was tired and longed for peace, privacy, and rest. She had already proven her mettle, so to speak; now let Selznick prove his. Furthermore, at this point John had no time or energy to help her, as he had done when she had written her novel. But perhaps the best explanation for Peggy’s refusal to help Howard lies in the very protectiveness she felt about the book. Just as she had been obsessed with the southern reaction to Gone With the Wind and had consistently and thoroughly supported every bit of historical information included in her novel, so she was concerned with the southern reaction to the movie. She believed that if she even glanced over the script, she would be held responsible for every small item in the film that incensed or even annoyed southerners. And not for “worlds or money” would she offend a single southerner; they had been too kind to her and her book.20

  So, as protective as they were of the book, Peggy and John must have decided that it would be in her best interest if she refused—publicly, repeatedly, and consistently—to have anything to do with the film treatment of her novel.

  Furthermore, having been “deviled by the press and the public,” she stated outright she did not care who played what roles or where the film was made. She joked privately among her friends that Groucho Marx or Donald Duck could play Rhett Butler for all she cared.21 But to Howard, she said: “To be quite frank, I have all the confidence in you and Mr. Cukor and Mr. Selznick so why should I rush about issuing statements to the press on matters that are none of my business.”22

  Peggy repeated to Howard what she had written Kay Brown: that she would only be too happy to help the visiting film crew meet research workers and local historians who knew what really went on in the South during the period of the novel. She offered to drive the crew from Dalton to Milledgeville, show them the entrenchments and the old houses, and introduce them to people in each town along the way. But that was all she was going to do. “I just can’t,” she said emphatically. “I’m too nearly crazy now with the load I’m carrying.” She closed by saying, “Speaking of Civil War monuments—you should see our Southern ones. I believe they were put out by the same company that put out the Northern ones. They are twice as ugly and three times as duck-legged!”23

  A gentle man who valued his own privacy, Howard understood her position and told her so. The Selznick company had said nothing to him about her attitude toward helping with the film. He explained that he wrote her as he did only because he wanted to assure her that all possible measures were being taken to get her approval or criticism before the picture got to the irrevocable stage. On two earlier occasions when he had worked with novels by Sinclair Lewis, he had submitted his script to the novelist, and he simply wanted to extend that courtesy to her. “But I understand all too well how you feel,” he wrote. “I should not dream of going near a play of mine after it has opened. . . . I take you at your word and shall not trouble you.”24

  2

  Kay Brown and Sidney Howard were gracious in accepting Peggy’s reasons for not participating in the filmmaking, but the overly enthusiastic ace publicity manager Russell Birdwell, whom Selznick had appointed to ignite a tremendous publicity campaign, was not. When Birdwell sent Peggy, at her request, the story he had prepared to release to the national wire services, she became incensed. The release stated that Kay Brown was going to Atlanta, where Margaret Mitchell was to help her select the cream of the crop of the young girls auditioning for the role of Scarlett, and that Margaret Mitchell hoped it would be a southern actress. The other misstatement claimed that Sidney Howard was also coming to Atlanta to make certain that his screenplay satisfied the author of the novel and that Margaret Mitchell was going to have a huge party for the film people.

  Thoroughly upset after reading that release, Peggy steamed downtown to the Georgia Power building to show John what “that so-and-so” had done.25 John rolled up his sleeves and wrote drafts of two telegrams for Peggy to send. (Both drafts are in
his handwriting but written in her first-person voice; he wrote as if he were she.26) One telegram is to Kay Brown, saying that if the Selznick publicity department did not state Peggy’s position correctly, she would leave Atlanta and not come back until the search for actors had been completed. The other telegram, which went directly to Birdwell, stated,

  My contract specifically provides that I have nothing to do with the movie and I have stated personally and by letter to various Selznick people that I will have nothing to do with talent search, casting, adaptation of story or filming but apparently I must repeat this to each new member of the organization I come in contact with. When Miss Brown and others come to Atlanta I will feed them fried chicken, show them Stone Mountain and introduce them to anybody they want to meet. But all parts of the film job are on their hands and not on mine. Am releasing story to Atlanta afternoon papers today after deleting references to me and Mr. Birdwell please make the same corrections in any releases you give out. On this and any future stories I want no references made to me except as author of book.27

  Apparently, Birdwell ignored the Marshes’ telegram and released the information just as he had originally written it. John angrily wrote him again, telling Birdwell that he had better be cocksure of his facts before he released any more news, or Peggy would refuse even to meet Cukor and Howard if she were misrepresented again.28 He stated unequivocally that if a story went out making it appear that she were giving a tea for the Selznick representatives, she would recall her invitations and cancel the tea. She was giving a party, but it was for her friends in the press who had been so kind to her. It was the only way in which she could show her appreciation. “And it’s their party and in their honor.” It would be nice if Mr. Cukor, Mr. Howard, and Miss Brown could attend, he said, because they could meet people who might be of some assistance to them and because Peggy wanted to be hospitable to them and to make their visit to Atlanta pleasant. In an earlier letter to John’s mother, Peggy had written that it was a party she was looking forward to giving, for she wanted to thank the press, both of Atlanta and neighboring cities, the reference librarians, the booksellers, the book reviewers—all the people who had been so kind to her and done so much for her. “I’m using the movie folks as an excuse to give the party so I can thank everyone at one time. For people have certainly been good to me.”29

  3

  For several days before the film people arrived in Atlanta in December 1936, newspapers throughout the South made pleas to the public not to bother the Marshes or Eugene or Stephens Mitchell, or any of their relatives. Such pleas did seem to deter the local people, but not those from out of state. When Kay Brown, Tony Bundsman, and Harriet Flagg arrived in early December, the city went into a frenzy. All the newspapers emphasized that the film crew’s search was limited and that they were hoping to find possible screen test candidates for the four principal characters: Scarlett, Rhett, Melanie, and Ashley. On December 2 the Georgian quoted Kay Brown as saying: “We won’t be able to consider any character parts, though if there is a possible Aunt Pittypat around we would be delighted to find her. We would also be delighted if we could find twins to play the parts of the Tarleton boys. But we won’t be able to consider any of the numerous ‘mammies’ that have been recommended nor any babies.” When the audition crew arrived in Atlanta, they were overwhelmed with Atlanta’s enthusiasm for the movie. Later that evening, after her terribly long day, Kay warned her boss, “Sherman’s march through Georgia will be nothing compared with Selznick’s.”30

  Kay and her two-man crew auditioned five hundred candidates that first day. Exhausted from the day’s work, she wired Selznick that evening: “We are in Atlanta, barricaded in our rooms. The belles turned out in droves. For the most part they are all healthy mothers who should have stayed at home; the rich debutantes are all offering to pay us to play Scarlett, and all the mammys in the South want to play Mammy. I feel like Moses in the Wilderness. . . . I need a drink and Georgia is a dry state.”31

  If Kay was exhausted after the audition, so were the Marshes. Their apartment was stormed for days by strangers wanting an audition. They were besieged by an unbelievable number of people who had no experience in the theater or in films but who thought that all they needed was Margaret Mitchell’s approval to land a part in the film. Distressed and frustrated, Peggy wrote Sidney Howard: “The populace of six states descended on me, demanding that I endorse each and every one of them for the role of Scarlett, etc. The phone went every minute and wires and special deliveries deviled me and shoals of people camped on the doorstep and clutched me if I went out.”32

  The search for actresses in the South turned up only three girls. The most prominent one was Alicia Rhett, a fair-skinned, slender beauty whom Cukor found in Charleston, South Carolina, in a rehearsal of Lady Win-dermere’s Fan. At first, he thought perhaps she could play Melanie, but he ended up giving her the role of India Wilkes, Ashley’s sister, because many of the crew remarked how much she resembled Leslie Howard, who played Ashley. The other two actresses were Mary Anderson and Marcella Martin; both played minor parts.

  In April, George Cukor, Hobart Erwin, John Darrow, and Kay Brown returned to Atlanta to search for an actress to play Scarlett. The Marshes gave a cocktail party for them and invited 250 guests. For many Atlantans, the excitement of the filmmakers’ return overshadowed the fact that Hitler had just ripped apart Czechoslovakia and was headed toward Poland while Britain and France looked helplessly on.

  4

  No one was more persistent or obnoxious in her efforts to play Scarlett than Betty Timmons, the beautiful daughter of a man whose brother married one of Peggy’s aunts—Aline Mitchell Timmons. Although Peggy was not kin to her and had never even seen the girl, Betty Timmons went to New York introducing herself as Margaret Mitchell’s niece and broadcasting around that Margaret Mitchell herself had not only picked her out for the part but had also modeled the character of Scarlett on her. Newspaper reporters from New York, San Francisco, and elsewhere called Peggy to ask if the girl’s story were true.33 Because the press gave her some attention, Timmons managed to get an audition from the Selznick Company.

  Her audition turned out poorly, and the Selznick organization, sick of the girl’s hounding them for another tryout, dubbed her “Honey Chile.” Undeterred by the bad publicity and the embarrassment she was causing her family, Timmons pursued her course by following George Cukor to Atlanta in April. Failing to find him, she did learn that he was leaving by train that evening for New Orleans and she was determined to go with him. Her wild chase at the railroad station made the front page of the Atlanta Constitution, which carried the headline “Socialite, with O’Hara Dash, Races Madly to See Cukor.”34 Peggy thought the escapade was hilarious and wrote Kay, in New York, and others about it.

  But for some reason, maybe because he was exhausted, John found nothing amusing about Betty Timmons’s antics. In fact, it prompted him to write what he himself described as “an unpardonably long letter” to his sister Katharine Bowden and Anne, her daughter, who lived in California. His purpose was to convince his niece, who was pursuing a film career, not to mention to a soul that she was related to Margaret Mitchell. Wanting Anne and her mother to avoid any kind of embarrassment and publicity, he told her about “Honey Chile’s” absurd pursuit for the role of Scarlett, and he entreated her to avoid, at all costs, giving even the slightest appearance that she was another “niece of Margaret Mitchell.” His single-spaced letter is nine pages and includes approximately six thousand words on the agony Peggy had experienced since the publication of her book. Writing his frustrations down in such detail must have been some kind of a catharsis for John. He asked his sister to destroy his letter after reading it.

  In introducing his reason for writing such a long letter, John wrote his sister:

  You may think I am exaggerating but I am not. One writer summed up the situation better than I could when he said that probably no American in private life, except Lindbergh, had ever been
called upon to face so blinding a glare of publicity, so avid a public curiosity, so passionate a determination to pry, as Peggy has. . . . The truly great ladies of the literary world, such as Willa Cather and Ellen Glasgow and Julia Peterkin and others, do not have their private lives smeared over the pages of newspapers. They stand upon their accomplishments, not on their “hobbies,” and I am proud that Peggy feels this way. Her friends understand this. . . . They have discovered from bitter experience that some careless remark, such as “Peggy is so fond of her brother’s two little boys,” gets into the New York gossip columns in twenty-four hours as “Peggy is so fond of her two little boys.”35

  Nearly everything Peggy said was distorted in a newspaper somewhere, particularly whenever she spoke with people in high places who tried to cut through red tape for an actress friend. One such call came from Mrs. Ogden Reid, the owner of the Herald Tribune, who ostensibly called Peggy about attending a meeting of distinguished women in New York. In the course of their brief conversation, Mrs. Reid asked Peggy what she thought about Katharine Hepburn. Peggy replied that she thought the actress “looked pretty in hoopskirts,” and that she had enjoyed her performance in Little Women.36 That was all. The next day, the news went out from New York that Mrs. Reid had heard Margaret Mitchell say that she wanted Katharine Hepburn to play Scarlett. Tied up for hours making denials, Peggy issued the following statement to the Associated Press: “I never expressed a preference and I never will. If Mrs. Reid understood me to say I felt a strong preference for Miss Hepburn in the role, I owe her and Miss Hepburn an apology.” Privately, Peggy said to friends, “I could not help resenting Mrs. Reid’s action for I had given her no cause for making such a statement. I made notes of my conversation with her and there were two witnesses to my statement.”37