The next we hear of the show is a telegram of November 19, 1954, in which Barron Polan (an artists’ agent) wrote to the actor Michael Redgrave, supposedly at the suggestion of the conductor Lehman Engel, to ask whether he was interested in playing Henry Higgins.8 Redgrave responded on November 25 to confirm that he was indeed intrigued by the proposal: “I hope that Mr. Levin will send me the script and, of course, the score.” Allusion is made to Lerner and Loewe’s initial attempt at turning Pygmalion into a musical two years earlier, when he had been approached by the Theatre Guild. “I have never heard any more about it,” he said, adding that he was still “very much” interested.
This letter made its way to Levin, who replied to Redgrave on December 1. By this time, the rehearsal start-date was put back to August 15, 1955, and he announced to Redgrave: “We are talking to Cyril Ritchard about directing the book, to Michael Kidd about doing the choreography and to Cecil Beaton about doing costumes.”9 Levin also told the actor that he would be visiting London in two months’ time, and asked him whether he would be available to begin the show in August. No further documentation is forthcoming about later stages of the Levin-Redgrave negotiations, but Redgrave evidently decided to commit to another project. An extract from his diary (held in the Victoria and Albert Museum’s collections) of January 16, 1955, shows that Levin called him even after he had turned down the role, in an attempt to persuade him to do it: “Sleeping when Corin [Redgrave’s son] tells me a call from NY is thro’ … It is Levin from NY about Pygmalion. He … suggests I could get out of Clurman-Giraudoux commitment.10 But in spite of Levin’s persistence, Redgrave apparently still refused, and the producer turned to Rex Harrison.
THE THEATRE GUILD RETALIATES
December 1954–June 1955
In the meantime, the Theatre Guild was determined not be excluded by Lerner and Loewe. They gained the support of Richard Halliday, Mary Martin’s husband, who felt that “the Guild had a moral claim to participation in the project.”11 A memo of December 15, 1954, records a telephone conversation between the Guild and Halliday, in which the details of the rights to the play become clear. Paul Ramsay of the Chase National Bank was handling Gabriel Pascal’s estate, which was convenient for Lerner because Ramsay was an old family friend and was also looking after his recently deceased father’s property. Halliday hoped to reconcile all parties, provided that Lerner “came with clean hands.” According to David D’Andre, both sides approached Mary Martin, and she “began to show serious interest in the project, especially because she was currently taking speech lessons to learn the Cockney accent.”12 On December 27, Langner wrote to Ramsay to ask about the possibility of purchasing the rights to Pygmalion and underlined the Guild’s early participation in the show.13 With some reason, he was clearly annoyed.
The matter came to a head early in 1955. On January 18, Halliday reported to the Guild on the audition of Lerner and Loewe’s songs held the previous night in the presence of Levin, Lerner, Loewe, the designer Mainbocher, Mary Martin, and Halliday. According to the memo, both he and Martin were “not satisfied with the lyrics or musical material the score offers her.” They thought many things in it were “good,” but “Mary in particular did not get any particular lift out of the songs planned for the part of Liza.”14 The memo continues by stating that Martin and Halliday would not commit themselves at this time, even if it meant that Lerner and Loewe took the show to others. Martin still felt that “this is the best role and the best story” for her and confessed that “this is a decision they have reached with great regret.” Additionally, the memo mentions a meeting due to take place between Halliday and Harold Freedman, who had been appointed by the Chase Bank to decide to whom to give the rights to Pygmalion. Underneath the memo, a handwritten note says that Halliday phoned after this meeting and that “Harold strongly upholds the Guild interest” in the show.
In early February, the narrative took an unexpected turn as Rodgers and Hammerstein, who had considered writing the Pygmalion musical all those years earlier, now re-entered the picture and held four conversations with the Guild. On February 8 at 2:30 p.m., Helburn met with Rodgers at her apartment, and proposed that he and Hammerstein now write the show. This would ensure that Martin would agree to play Eliza, which in turn should help guarantee that the Guild be given the rights to the play (though one wonders how enthusiastically Rodgers and Hammerstein would have capitulated to the idea of allowing the Guild to produce their shows again, after having parted ways following Allegro in 1947). Rodgers “seemed actively interested” and “promised to discuss the matter further with Mr. Hammerstein.” The following day, he rang Helburn and confirmed that Hammerstein was intrigued. A meeting was arranged for February 10, but Hammerstein wished “to be sure that [the] story problems are clear so that he would not encounter any major writing snags.” Helburn’s assistant then reported to Harold Freedman, who “expressed interest” but wanted to create a safety net to protect them if Rodgers and Hammerstein withdrew after an agreement was reached; Freedman would “have to place a substantial financial forfeit in the contract.” Hunter also phoned Halliday, who was “enthusiastic” and “delighted.” The bottom of the page declares: “ALL PARTIES SAYING THEIR PRAYERS!”15
Perhaps Rodgers and Hammerstein were still not convinced they could overcome the problems they had always had with the book, for there is no further record of their work on the show. In any case, Lerner and Loewe had proceeded to such an extent that they had now completed a significant portion of the show, putting them ahead of the game. In The Street Where I Live, Lerner explains that he also tipped the balance by asking Freedman to represent him and Loewe, so that it was no surprise when Freedman advised the Chase Bank to give them the rights for Pygmalion. With the permission, the inspiration, and the added satisfaction of succeeding where Rodgers and Hammerstein had given up hope, they were now unstoppable on the road to completing the musical within a year.
THE SEARCH FOR A CHOREOGRAPHER
December 1954–June 1955
Meanwhile, Herman Levin proceeded to put the production together. Among his papers is a telegram of December 21, 1954, from Michael Kidd (choreographer of stage shows such as Guys and Dolls and films including The Band Wagon) to Lerner, in which he expressed interest in the show and asked if any of the script was available for him to read.16 In Lerner’s autobiography, Kidd is the subject of a memorably embarrassing anecdote. Lerner calls Kidd “a rather unemotional fellow” and says that his reaction to “You Did It” was simply, “That’s wrong” (representative of his generally dismissive attitude toward the material). Intriguingly, Lerner also says that “The problem of selecting a choreographer for Pygmalion was … complicated by the dramatic fact that neither Moss [Hart], Fritz nor I felt the show required a great deal of dancing,” so it was difficult to entice someone to play what seemed like a secondary role in the production.17
The ball scene from My Fair Lady, showing (left to right) Christopher Hewitt (Zoltan Karpathy), Julie Andrews (Eliza), and Rex Harrison (Higgins) (Photofest)
In Lerner’s formulation, Hart is categorically included as part of the decision not to have much dancing in the show, and Lerner also claims that when the score was played and sung for the none-too-impressed Kidd, Hart became angry with the choreographer and refused to contemplate teaming up with him.18 However, since Hart only agreed to direct the show around June 12, 1955, and signed his contract some time after June 18, he can surely have had no major input into decisions such as choosing the choreographer until this later period.19 Yet Lerner first spoke to Kidd about the show in mid-January—his telegram of January 25 to Levin mentions having had a “long talk with Kidd on Sunday”—and two letters written by Levin on April 1 suggest that the producer, composer, and lyricist intended to meet with Kidd during a trip to the West Coast on April 8, long before Hart was hired.20 A gap in the Levin correspondence from April 6 to April 30 suggests that the trip indeed took place. It is possible that the meeting between Hart, Ler
ner, Loewe, and Kidd occurred as Lerner claimed, but all mention of Kidd simply disappears after the April trip to Hollywood, indicating that a meeting of a similarly negative character to the one Lerner describes may have taken place during this time instead, only without Hart.
Linked to this are three letters between Levin and Oliver Smith. On May 30, Smith wrote to Levin that “Gower [Champion] sounds very good for dances,” seemingly in reply to Levin’s letter of May 17 in which he hoped “to know something more about the director and choreographer situation in about a week.” But Levin’s irritable response on June 2 not only proves that Kidd was no longer in the frame for the show but contradicts another aspect of Lerner’s chronology. Lerner claims that Gower Champion was the first choice for choreographer, but it is clear both from Smith’s mention of “Gower” on May 30 and from Levin’s reply that the team had turned to him a good six months after first pursuing Kidd. “I still haven’t made a deal with Gower,” wrote Levin on June 2. “All choreographers, it seems to me, have in the last couple of years been infected with an overdose of self-importance—and he is no exception. Who did the dances for Show Boat? I am meeting with him today and have some hopes that the matter will be settled then.”21 Levin’s letter does, however, corroborate Lerner’s account of the reason for Champion’s not becoming the choreographer: “When Herman sat down with [Champion’]s representatives, his terms were more than we could afford.”22
SEEKING ELIZA
January–March 1955
These negotiations with various choreographers—which did not cease until September 1955, when Hanya Holm signed her contract to do the show—were but a small part of the work faced by Lerner, Loewe, and Levin. Casting the lead roles took months of work. At the same time as pursuing Michael Redgrave and Noël Coward, their thoughts were turning to the role of Eliza Doolittle. As part of a telegram to Levin on January 25, Lerner made a reference to Judy Holliday, the future star of Jule Styne’s Bells Are Ringing, who was apparently an early possibility for the role.23 Nonetheless, Lerner and Levin soon opened talks with Julie Andrews during her stint in the first cast of the Broadway production of Sandy Wilson’s The Boy Friend from September 1954.
On April 1, Levin wrote to Oliver Smith to say that “Unless something goes awry, Julie Andrews, who plays the lead in The Boy Friend, will play Eliza.”24 During this three-month period of January–March 1955, then, Lerner and Loewe asked Andrews if she was interested in the role, auditioned her, and formally asked her to do the part, and Levin began negotiations with her agent. She signed an agreement to play the part of Eliza on March 31, earning $1,000 per week for the first of her two years under contract, being given second-star billing, performing on the original cast album for $1,000 per day, being permitted a personal dresser, and being allowed a lay-off of eight weeks after the first year.25
Yet both Andrews and Lerner appear to disagree slightly with this time-scale. In her autobiography, Home, Andrews says that as her contract for The Boy Friend “neared completion, I began to grow very excited about returning to London [in October],” but was then approached about playing the part of Eliza.26 However, it is difficult to see how January could be seen as “near the completion” of Andrews’s contract, which was not until the end of September 1955. Lerner, too, is curiously vague about when these events took place: he describes how he went to see The Boy Friend with Levin and Loewe, met with Andrews, and asked her not to make any commitments until the rights for Pygmalion had been acquired.27 But Andrews differs with this description slightly by saying that she was “amazed” when the offer “came through,” implying a time lapse between the audition process (during which period she also auditioned for Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Pipe Dream) and the offer.28
Throughout this phase, the only evidence of another actress possibly playing the role of Eliza is in a letter from the agent Deborah Coleman, who wrote to Levin on February 3 to suggest Vanessa Lee (one of Ivor Novello’s leading ladies) for the part, but no further mention is made of Lee elsewhere in Levin’s papers.29 Four days later, Levin wrote letters to two agents to announce that he would be going to London on February 15 to “do some casting on the leads for the musical version of Pygmalion.”30 The ambiguity of the phrase “casting on the leads” may suggest that the team was undecided as to whether to use Andrews or not, and there is evidence that Petula Clark was auditioned for the show in March 1955 during the visit to London.31 But in truth, there seems never to have been a serious alternative discussed for the role once Andrews’s name had come up, and as history has shown, she was the perfect choice.
A VISIT TO LONDON
January–March 1955
Aside from the casting of Eliza, Levin’s letters of February 7 appear to uncover a massive discrepancy in Lerner’s autobiography regarding the visit to London in the early months of 1955. Lerner describes how, in order to fund the trip to England, he sold his share of stock in a gold mine left to him and his brothers by their late father—“And so it was that shortly after the first of the year, we took off to visit the original scenery.”32 He talks about arriving “that cold January night”33 and meeting up with Rex Harrison (whom he claims was his first choice for the role of Higgins),34 says that Cecil Beaton agreed to do the costumes during this time,35 mentions that Harrison agreed to play Higgins after five weeks of procrastination, and avers that Lerner, Loewe, and Levin left London in mid-February.36 Yet according to Levin’s letters of February 7, he intended to leave New York on Tuesday February 15 and arrive in London the next day.37 Therefore, Lerner’s departure date was in fact the arrival date for the producer. Levin’s letter continues: “The Messrs. Lerner and Loewe will follow me in a few days.” Again, this contradicts the romantic image Lerner conjures up of a “little brigade” of people all traveling together, because clearly they went in at least two separate parties.38
As to their activities during the visit, it is difficult to be much more specific, other than to rely on Lerner’s account as outlined. A letter from Levin to Cecil Beaton confirms that the two met in London and clarifies that his agreement to do the show depended on being given permission by Irene Mayer Selznick to do it at the same time as working on a production for her.39 The main purpose of being in England, of course, was to secure the services of Rex Harrison, and negotiations with the actor resulted in a preliminary agreement drawn up by Levin at Claridge’s Hotel on March 18.40 Harrison’s terms were that his guaranteed salary would be $3,000 per week, plus 10 percent of the gross box office receipts between $30,000 and $50,000; that he was guaranteed a minimum of six weeks’ employment or $18,000 in lieu; that he would be given first-star billing, though the actress playing Eliza Doolittle could be co-starred if Levin chose; that the contract would last a year; and that rehearsals would begin on or after October 1, 1955, subject to two conditions: the closing of the play Bell, Book and Candle in which Harrison was starring in London at the time, and a four-week lapse between the end of the play and the start of rehearsals for the musical. The final point in the agreement is a fascinating list of directors with which both parties were happy. The choice was subject to Levin and Harrison’s mutual approval, but both were amenable to the following names: John Van Druten, Alfred Lunt, Moss Hart, Robert Lewis, Peter Glenville, Tyrone Guthrie, Hume Cronyn, Cedric Hardwicke, and Cyril Ritchard. It is striking that Hart was third in the pecking order here, since various writers have suggested that his name “headed the list.”41
The other business to be conducted while in London was to find an actor for the role of Alfred P. Doolittle, Eliza’s dustman father. Exactly when Stanley Holloway’s name first came up is uncertain; the earliest documentary evidence is a letter from Lillian Aza, his agent, on February 24, 1955, in which she informed Levin of her contact details, having heard that he was interested in using Holloway.42 No known documentation exists for the actual meeting between them, but Lerner and Holloway’s autobiographies largely concur on the matter. Lerner says, “In New York, when we first discussed the par
t of Doolittle, both Herman and I had the same first thought: Stanley Holloway. I remember him well from my schooldays in England and we both had seen some of his recent motion pictures. Herman called him and we all had lunch together at Claridge’s. He loved the idea of playing Doolittle.”43 With his typical inclination to embroider his text with humorous stories, Lerner also relates Holloway’s reaction to the team’s question as to whether he could still sing after many years away from the stage: “Without a word he put down his knife and fork, threw back his head and unleashed a strong baritone note that resounded through the dining room, drowned out the string quartet and sent a few dozen people off to the osteopath to have their necks untwisted.”
Loverly:The Life and Times of My Fair Lady (Broadway Legacies) Page 5