On March 14, Lillian Aza wrote to Levin with a list of points to be included in Holloway’s contract, following a meeting in London a week earlier.44 Among other details, Holloway was to be paid $1,000 per week; rehearsals were still scheduled to begin “on or about” August 15; and his billing was to be equal to that of the actors playing Higgins and Eliza “unless the artiste eventually engaged for the part of Higgins is a star of such caliber that he commands larger billing.” Aza also required that Levin let her know whether rehearsals were to be postponed until October 1, because Holloway had received an offer of a film contract for that time. Although Aza had asked him to reply before he left England, Levin did not answer until March 25, by which time he was back in New York. He was now able to announce that rehearsals had been deferred to October 1 and clarified that Holloway would receive first featured billing if Levin could not arrange co-star billing.
He also quibbled at Aza’s terms regarding the length of contract, which she had specified as lasting “for the run of the play,” but Levin requested instead that Holloway be under contract for three years, explaining that this was the tradition under American Equity.45 Levin ended by promising that “the terms agreed upon will in a short time be incorporated in an Actor’s Equity Contract and sent you for Mr. Holloway’s signature,” but there would follow a delay of several months, during which time the increasingly agitated Aza would keep urging Levin to set a rehearsal date and submit the contract. On March 31 she wrote to him again, requesting that he could leave the show after two years if he should wish, and further arguing his cause regarding billing. “If Rex Harrison demands first billing, then we will, of course, agree,” she allowed, “but I do feel Stanley should be billed in the same type as Julie Andrews.” After all, Holloway was far more experienced than the young Andrews. Aza now also added the proviso that Holloway be given first refusal of the role of Doolittle if the show went to London.46 Five days later, Levin replied in agreement with the latter request but was firm in insisting that Holloway accept first featured billing if co-star billing could not be arranged, an argument that would continue to rancor throughout the run of My Fair Lady.47
Also on March 31, Levin was sent a letter about Harrison’s contract from his agent, Laurence (“Laurie”) Evans, who mentioned a proposed trip by Lerner and Loewe to London on June 18. They were to bring Harrison more of his songs once they had written them; Evans had already booked rooms for their trip.48 The next day, Levin wrote to Evans, though he had clearly not yet received his letter. Levin admitted that “it was awfully hectic the first week that [he] was back” but now had time to bring Evans up to date. He mentioned his forthcoming trip to the East Coast to see Michael Kidd and John Van Druten; he asked Evans to inquire as to a fair financial deal for Harrison’s role in the original cast album recording, strongly urged him to speak to Harrison about co-star billing for Holloway, and asked for an update on the business situation regarding Bell, Book and Candle (since until Harrison was able to leave the play, My Fair Lady could not go into rehearsal).49 The same day, Levin also wrote to Oliver Smith. He confirmed that a deal had been made with Harrison to play Higgins. “I feel it is ideal casting,” he added, “and I have a hunch that you will agree with me.”50 Levin also mentioned that Holloway had signed for Doolittle (“I think he will be wonderful”) and that Andrews would almost certainly play Eliza. He asked Smith to call him on Friday afternoon at the Beverly Hills Hotel to “make a date.” In a postscript, Levin also confided that Beaton had agreed to do the costumes—“but keep this under your hat. Just in case I find it too tough to make a deal with Arnold Weissberger, we may want to turn to Irene [Sharaff].”
GOING HOLLYWOOD AND PACIFYING HOLLOWAY
April–July 1955
After this, all we hear of Levin’s actions while in Hollywood is a series of telegrams between him and John Van Druten, the prospective director, who was known for writing the plays I Remember Mama and I Am a Camera, as well as for directing the original Broadway production of The King and I. His association with The King and I, which features a simmering relationship between the king of Siam and the governess Anna Leonowens that is not unlike that of Higgins and Eliza, may well have been the reason for this choice of director. On April 5, Levin wired Van Druten to confirm his arrival on the Friday and to request a meeting on the following Monday, and eventually the director agreed.51 As stated earlier, no evidence about any possible conversations with Michael Kidd has survived, but a telephone message sent to Levin on May 9 confirms that Van Druten was busy until October and could do the show only if the production were to be considerably delayed.52 Thus at the end of his trip to Hollywood, Levin returned with neither a director nor a choreographer.
In the meantime, Aza wrote to Levin again about the rehearsal date, because if Holloway were to be free until the end of October he could accept yet another film contract.53 Levin ignored the letter, so she wrote to him again fifteen days later and urged him to finalize both the rehearsal date and the contract.54 This time, Levin wrote back at length explaining the problem regarding Harrison’s contract with Bell, Book and Candle. In desperation, he pleaded for leeway from Aza on the date but confirmed that rehearsals would not begin until at least November 1 and said that if she would permit him to put a clause in Holloway’s contract to allow for Harrison’s problem, Levin would send the document immediately.55 The discussion continued for some time. On May 12, Aza asked that Holloway be allowed to be free until November 30 in order to make his film and mentioned that the opening of Harrison’s new film (The Constant Husband) had probably stimulated interest in Bell, Book and Candle.56 Five days later, Levin acknowledged Aza’s letter but said he needed more information on the situation with Harrison’s play before he could grant the permission Holloway desired.57
One has to admire Aza’s persistence. On May 31, she reported that she had checked with Harrison’s agent directly, who said it was unlikely that the play would fold before the end of October,58 then on June 13 Levin sent Aza a telegram asking her not to commit Holloway beyond November 1.59 Two weeks later, she wrote back to say that Holloway had signed to do the film because she had not heard back from Levin, and the outside shots had to be done that very week.60 Even then, though, Aza continued to badger Levin for Holloway’s contract, sending him a desperate telegram on July 13, to which he replied: “ALL HINGES [ON] HARRISON. EVANS ADVISES HOPEFUL SATISFACTORY OUTCOME THIS WEEK.”61
BELL, BOOK AND CANDLE
April–May 1955
As Levin said, everything hinged on Rex Harrison’s availability. Although the main issue was allowing him to be free to leave Bell, Book and Candle, negotiations continued as to the finer details of the contract. On April 4, Laurie Evans asked that Harrison be paid $3,000 per recording day on account of 2 percent of the gross sales of the cast album, going on to mention that the play continued to do very good business.62 Levin replied at length on April 20, after his return from Hollywood, and for the first time suggested making a deal with Hugh Beaumont, the producer of Bell, Book and Candle, to effect a firm date for Harrison’s departure. The terms of Harrison’s contract allowed him to quit when the gross dropped below £1,750 ($4,902), but Levin proposed that Evans agree with Beaumont to allow Harrison to leave on November 1; in return, Harrison would stay on until that date even if the gross had previously dropped below that amount.
Levin also acceded to the proposed terms of Harrison’s record contract, while commenting grumpily that “this is the rate usually paid stars who are record personalities.” He added, with an air of condescension: “Perhaps I will be given credit for what in my view is generosity.”63 Five days later, Evans replied that the proposed deal with Beaumont was poorly conceived, because even if Harrison continued in the play when the gross dropped to £1,750, the show would have to close because the operating cost was the same amount. The letter also dealt with the issue of Holloway’s proposed co-star billing. Harrison was “completely unwilling” to allow this, wrote Evans: “Rex fee
ls that Holloway’s name does not mean anything to Broadway audiences and, additionally, that the part of Doolittle should automatically get feature billing.” Throughout their association, there was no love lost between the two actors, and Holloway made his opinion of Harrison well known in the press, even when they were still working together.64
For a few weeks, the news from London was brighter. In a letter of May 2, Evans told Levin that the box office takings for the play were down to £2,700 ($7,563). Levin replied on May 6 and promised Harrison’s contract the following week.65 Evans wrote yet again on May 9 and mentioned that the gross had dropped to £2,600 ($7,282);66 Levin found this letter “encouraging” but mentioned that “this whole thing makes me feel a little like a fellow who is waiting around for someone to die. It’s the first time I’ve ever had any reason to want a show to close rather than run forever.”67 At this point, he also admitted, “It may be that we should resign ourselves to going into rehearsal about December 5th.” Again on May 18, Evans mentioned that “business at the Phoenix is slowly going down” and that “Lilli has been ill and was unable to play for five nights,” the latter a reference to Harrison’s wife, who was co-starring with him in Bell but with whom relations had broken down.68
But five days later, Levin’s worst fears were realized. Evans wrote to the producer again to inform him that “Business has gone right up again at the Phoenix and last week they played to over £3,000 [$8,403]!” He reported a conversation between Harrison, Beaumont, and himself in which Beaumont predicted that the play would run until the end of October and advised Levin to “forego any idea of rehearsing before the end of November or even early December.”69 The producer was depressed at the news and offered to pay Beaumont $2,500 in return for Harrison’s release on October 1.70
BEATON SIGNS UP; ANDREWS AND EQUITY
April–June 1955
In the meantime, negotiations with Cecil Beaton had gone through—one of the few jobs Levin managed to complete with total success during this frustrating time. Beaton had written to Levin on April 6 to inform him that he was represented by Arnold Weissberger.71 Some time during the ensuing weeks, Levin made a deal with Weissberger, who wrote to him on May 13 to clarify Levin’s offer to Beaton. The costume designer was to receive his round-trip fare from England and a fee of $5,000; $150 a week for the run of the original company in New York and on the road; for each touring company, he was to receive a fee of $2,500 and $100 a week, provided that he supervised the execution of the costumes himself (if he did not, he had to pay the fee of someone else and receive only $75 a week); and for the London company, he was to receive a fee of $2,500 and $75 a week.72 These terms were agreed, and a week later Weissberger sent Levin three copies by hand, promising to take them with him to England for Beaton to sign.73 By June 13, Weissberger had returned to New York with the contract, and Beaton became the second member (after Oliver Smith) of the production team to officially join the show; Levin received the contracts on June 16.74
Although Julie Andrews had signed an agreement to play the role of Eliza as early as March 31, Levin faced a problem regarding her employment in The Boy Friend. According to the terms of the American Actors’ Equity Association, foreign actors had to wait six months between engagements. Since at the time of drawing up Andrews’s initial agreement Levin still hoped to begin rehearsals between October 1 and November 1, and Andrews was contracted to be in The Boy Friend until the end of September, Levin required a waiver from Equity. Therefore, on April 21 he wrote a persuasive letter to them, submitting six points in favor of their granting the waiver: that the “importance of the role of Eliza is self-evident” hence they had “selected Miss Andrews only because no other actress has, in our opinion, the ideal combination of acting talent, voice, skill, appearance, background and prior acceptance by the critics and public, possessed by Miss Andrews”; that Andrews was to be co-starred as additional evidence of the importance of the role; that the employment of American Equity members would not be increased even if someone else were hired for the role because they would still be using an English actress; that when Andrews left The Boy Friend, an American Equity member would replace her, therefore creating an employment opportunity; and that the production’s importance was proven by its budget of $360,000 and its cast and crew of “fifty to sixty actors, about thirty musicians and about thirty stagehands.”75 The council met on April 26 and the following day agreed to Levin’s request, provided that at the conclusion of the Pygmalion musical, Andrews would add the unexpired time between the two engagements to the six months’ waiting period at that time (i.e., a total of one year).76
This accepted, Levin now had basic agreements from his three stars, but the problem with Harrison’s play continued to plague the entire production. On May 14, Oliver Smith wrote to Levin to say that “it was exciting to hear the show and some of the songs, which sounded very good” to him, and asked the perennial question: “What are your dates at present?”77 Poor Levin had to give his standard response—“The date situation is confused”—but mentioned November 1 or December 1 as the likely rehearsal starting point.78 Smith in return promised to hold himself “in a state of cosmic flux.” Then on June 2 Levin moved his dates slightly to “somewhere between November 1st and December 10th,” adding, “I don’t know who’s going to direct. That will be the next problem we must solve.”79
CBS BACKS THE SHOW; HART DIRECTS
May–July 1955
Aside from finding the director, another issue to be addressed was the question of financing the show. Lerner’s autobiography explains how the peculiarities of the Shaw estate—the rights to his plays were only to be given to any one person for a maximum of five years—meant that it would be difficult to find conventional backers (who were used to participating in profits for many years) for the show, and that it could not be made into a motion picture. If the production were to fail, the stakes would be too high.80 Therefore the team turned to CBS, because a television company could still broadcast either the musical or the play version of Pygmalion even if the show flopped, and therefore it would still be worth investing in the play for the fixed period of five years. On May 23, Levin drew up a suggested deal with CBS, whereby they would put up $300,000 plus an overcall of 20 percent ($60,000); CBS would get the rights to televise the show, while the stage version would get television and radio publicity, with the possibility of television coverage of the opening night.81 The television company followed up on its position on June 15: it was adamant that it would not pay any of the profits due to the Pascal Estate (which owned the screen rights to Shaw’s plays), that it wanted the right to take control of the musical if Levin abandoned it, and that it wanted an allocation of house seats.82 Negotiations continued until July 18, when Levin entered into a final agreement with them.83
The month of June was significant primarily for the signing of Moss Hart to the musical. On June 13, Levin wrote to Laurie Evans and mentioned that a deal had been struck. “You probably don’t know it,” he continued, “but he has been my personal first choice all along.” Levin felt he was “the best possible director we could get” and reported that “he has been enormously and excitingly helpful,” concluding, “I know that Rex, when they begin to work together, will feel as I do and as the authors do.”84 (Levin also mentioned that Lerner and Loewe had “written some new stuff which I think is just great.”) Finally, after seven months of searching, the show had a director.
Cecil Beaton was pleased at the news: “I am delighted Moss Hart will direct,” he told Levin on June 24. “I have never worked with him before but always had real admiration for his sense of the theatre.”85 This letter also reveals several interesting aspects about Beaton’s ideas for the show. He insisted that Levin tell Hart and Smith “how strongly I trust that the production will be set at the time it was written,” going on to say how the fashions before the First World War “can be so nostalgic and charming, and will be a great challenge.” Beaton went into specifics about the costum
es and continued: “I am sure Oliver will argue that the furnishing can be made so much more amusing in the manner of the Early Vogue Covers,” adding that the style of 1890–1900 “has really been done to death” and that “that lemon has been squeezed of its last drop!” As well as mentioning his forthcoming arrival in New York to design Irene Selznick’s show—“a full time job: I’m liable to be called at any given moment of day or night so cannot promise that you will have much of my time for the first few weeks”—the designer requested that Beaton ask Smith “if he thinks that muted colors might be a bit of a change and yet have their own gaiety. We’re all a bit exhausted by orange, scarlet and magenta musicals—and like old Litmus paper refusing to react any more. Do let me have the rough scenic layout as soon as possible.”
SECONDARY ROLES; THE FRENZY CONTINUES
June–July 1955
While dealing with these sorts of requests about the production, Levin also began to think more about casting the smaller roles. During his visit to London, he had auditioned a young actor by the name of Frank Lawless for the role of Freddy Eynsford-Hill, and Levin requested photographs of Lawless from his agent, Basil Geoffrey, on June 12. It seems negotiations fell apart after Levin’s trip to England in the summer of 1955, perhaps because Geoffrey demanded a fairly hefty $250 per week for Lawless from the very start.86 Levin also received a letter from Lou Wilson, Julie Andrews’s representative, remind him of the actress’s “whistling prowess,” which he suggested could be of use to Lerner and Loewe in the cockney scenes.87 Eventually, of course, the fruits of this suggestion came to bear in “Wouldn’t It Be Loverly?”
Loverly:The Life and Times of My Fair Lady (Broadway Legacies) Page 6