Not only was this my first actual movie role, but it was the second time I’d ever been on a plane! The first time I was eight years old when my mother took my sister and me from Dallas to Los Angeles to visit her uncle Joe (my grandmother’s brother). We only had one-way tickets. We took the bus back to Dallas. At eight years old I was thrilled to ride on an airplane. I couldn’t sleep the night before we left. But instead of excitement, this time I was filled with dread because even though the idea of traveling to a location to shoot a movie was a thrilling one, I found that I had a fear of flying and the trip to the location in Socorro was a frightening experience. Carol drove me to the airport and asked me if I was going to be okay. I told her yes. She asked me to call home when I got there. I told her I would. She told me to make sure I did or they’d worry.
When I landed in Albuquerque it was very late in the afternoon. I was exhausted and I was suffering from white-knuckling. A crew member was waiting at the airport to drive me to where I would be staying in Socorro. Another actress, Tally Coppola (who was soon to be the famous Talia Shire) was also being picked up. We drove for what seemed like hours until we turned off the highway and onto an unpaved road and headed out into barren desert, dust flying all around the car. I could see a large neon sign up ahead. It was a wagon wheel with the words The Hub blinking on and off in the center.
The driver pulled in and parked under the blinking sign. Tally and I didn’t say much as we got out of the car and followed the driver. I noticed that right next door to the motel was Ramirez Mortuary. The driver led us both into one room. (Obviously, we were going to be roommates.) Inside, I had the sudden revelation that our room shared a common wall with the mortuary. I’m not certain which of us started crying first, but I know there were some tears involved. The driver told us that most everyone else on the production was staying in town at another motel. We were put here at The Hub because there weren’t any rooms left at the other place—so much for the romance of filming a movie on location!
I remembered my sister’s request and noticed there was no phone in the room. There wasn’t much of anything in the room except eeriness! The driver brought our bags in and then left. Tally and I sat there on our individual sagging twin beds. We discussed the fact that only a wall separated us from a mortuary. We also discussed the fact that this room would make a perfect setting for one of Roger Corman’s early horror genre movies. We made our peace with it and were about to unpack when the driver came back and told us that two of the crew members who were staying at the motel in town were going to switch with us. We were so grateful. On the drive into town I asked about a phone. I was told there were phones in the rooms, but that the switchboard at the motel shut down at 8:00 p.m. so I wouldn’t be able to make a call until 6:00 a.m. the next morning. My sister was going to have to wait and wonder.
The new motel in Socorro was at the edge of town. When we arrived, the office and the café were locked up tight! It was pitch black. There were no lights on the highway the motel was situated on and hardly a car passing by. But the room was much better and since we had to work in the early morning, we went directly to bed and locked the door tightly.
In Gas-s-s I played Ben Vereen’s soon-to-be “baby mama,” Marissa. The story called for me to be about six months pregnant. Unfortunately when I arrived on set in the morning, wardrobe was missing the undergarment that would make me appear pregnant. When the wardrobe girl informed me there was no “baby bump,” I asked her what I was supposed to do. She said, “Let’s look around for something.”
I was due on the set in less than an hour. I thought of the pillows on the bed in my room. The wardrobe trailer was in the parking lot outside of our motel. I ran to my room, grabbed a pillow off the bed, and tried it. It was too big! I saw the throw pillow that sat on the little club chair in the corner, and tried it. It was the right size, but it was square. I took them both and ran back to wardrobe. First the wardrobe girl and I tried the bed pillow, but it kept taking on air until I looked eleven months pregnant. We tried the square throw pillow with my costume over it. I looked in the mirror and thought I might get away with it. I didn’t have time to dawdle; they were calling me to the set. I stuffed the throw pillow into my underwear and went with it. During the three-week shoot my “baby bump” kept shifting around. It would either be too high or too low depending on what pair of underwear I was wearing.
It was wonderful fun working on Gas-s-s-s. The cast was great! Everyone was so talented and so much fun. And Roger Corman was easygoing, affable, and always had a smile on his face. Hollywood legend has it that Roger was very frugal And that once when he was producing a film, the production manager came to him and told him they were running over schedule and needed to buy more days. Roger took the script, calculated how much time each page took to shoot, randomly opened the script, and pulled out eight pages. The movie came in on time.
After the first day’s shooting when I got back to the motel, again the switchboard was shut down for the night. I was unsettled with the notion of my sister and my mother worrying about me. I loved bunking with Tally. She was a wonderful person with a crazy, dry sense of humor. Tally could make me laugh and she had this knack of making the joke always on herself. She spoke highly of her brother, Francis. I realized he was the same director who had written and directed You’re a Big Boy Now, one of my favorite movies ever!
The next morning the switchboard was down. I couldn’t believe my luck. When we were driving to the location I saw a café on the same road about a mile from our motel. Outside was a phone booth. Ah-ha! I made a plan! I was going to collect change from everyone I possibly could and that evening if I still wasn’t able to call from my room for whatever the reason, I would simply trot to that phone booth and call my sister. On the third night when I got back to the motel, I had just missed the switchboard operator. It didn’t matter because this time I was loaded for bear! I had all kinds of change for my call. It was very cold when I took off down the road on foot to the café. As I trudged along the road, two police cars rushed past me with their lights flashing. It was now getting dark, and colder by the minute! The sun had almost set. I could see the cafe’s neon Beer sign flashing up ahead. It reminded me of the good old days waiting in the cab of my father’s truck in Irving! Finally I made it to the phone booth, happy to shut the door even though it didn’t make it any warmer. The light came on. I took the receiver and put it up to my ear. As I did this, two more police cars rushed by with their lights flashing and sirens blaring. I pushed my hand into my pocket, grabbed some change, and placed it on the little shelf below the phone. I took a dime and dropped it into the coin slot. Nothing! No dial tone! Thinking the phone might need more than a dime, I fished a quarter out of the stockpile of change and dropped that into the coin slot. Nothing! I jiggled the cradle up and down and listened. Still dead silence! Well, well, well! I stood there thinking and shivering and noticed the sign blinking above the door that led into the bar. I wondered just what lurked on the other side. A payphone might be in there. If not, maybe they would let me use the business phone so I could place a collect call to my sister. I’ll just mosey on in and, in the sweetest voice I can muster, ask to use the phone. I sized up the gravel parking lot I now had to cross to get to the door of the bar. Except for the neon sign casting a light onto the small gravel parking lot it was now officially dark. I weighed my options and was determined to make that call. I returned the receiver to the cradle. I gathered my change and my courage, left the faux security of the phone booth, and started walking across the parking lot.
That’s when I realized I hadn’t seen a single soul go in or come out of the bar. I also realized that the cars I saw parked here were up on cinder blocks and rusted out, clearly abandoned! Okay, maybe people haven’t gotten here yet, but people may be working inside, setting up. I was about twenty or so feet from the door. The beer sign was bigger than I had originally thought. No one would run up an electric bill to keep a sign
this large lit if the place was abandoned. I picked up my pace, but didn’t allow myself to break into a run because running would indicate fear and I had to be brave so I could make the call home and let my family know I was safe. I got to the door.
Forcing myself, I took a deep breath, grabbed the door handle, and pulled. It was locked! The buzzing of the neon sign was all I could hear because it was the only noise to cut through the night. I froze. The thought struck me. I shouldn’t be here. I did not want to see what was behind me. I had to will my legs to move. When I turned there was nothing except the same desolate gravel parking lot. It seemed even lonelier. Again I thought I shouldn’t be here. I wanted to run but didn’t. I walked methodically back to the road. The adrenaline rush in my blood was almost blinding me. I thought, if I see a car I’m going to flag them down and ask for a ride. When I finally got to the road I didn’t feel any safer. There wasn’t a car in sight. No headlights in either direction. I started walking back toward the motel. I had been walking for a minute or two when I saw headlights speeding in my direction. As the car got closer I raised my arms and started waving them down. They sped past. I picked up my pace. It was dark and cold except for the light of a million stars. Suddenly from behind me, I heard a car. I turned to again see lights coming toward me. The lights got closer and I could see that they were pulling up alongside me and stopping. It was a police car. I stopped. The officer rolled down his window.
“Miss, what are you doing out here?” he asked.
I told him my story and he said, “Get in. I’ll give you a ride. You can’t be out here! There’s a manhunt on! We’ve just had a young girl about your age murdered up the road and we’re looking for the killer.” A chill ran up my spine. I jumped in the car and he dropped me off at the motel, watching me as I hastily ran into my room and bolted the door. I was shaking. The next morning I made sure I called home.
My mother answered and said, “Cindy, thank God! We were getting worried.”
I didn’t tell her about the night before. Just told her how much I was enjoying my experience making the movie.
We moved location and, with that, motels. One night I mentioned that the episode of Room 222 that I was in was going to be on. Bud Cort (who later would play Harold in Hal Asby’s film Harold and Maude) insisted we all watch it. I wasn’t especially happy about having a party for my one line, but Bud and Tally were insisting. And they were like a booster club! From our new motel room we watched “The Substitute Teacher” episode. They applauded when I came on and delivered my line. Personally I was horrified. First of all, my skin was orange and second, despite all my efforts, in no way was it humorous. All that going over and over that darn line and look where it got me. I sucked! But I didn’t detect the slightest pause from Bud or Tally. They immediately commented on how good I was.
I finished my three weeks on Gas-s-s-s and was sad to leave my newly made friends. Taking the plane home I was much more relaxed about possibly falling from forty thousand feet to the ground. I had just worked in a Roger Corman film! I was in show business! I was a working actress! And then the plane hit major turbulence!
One lucky day my agent got me an audition with Bill Persky and Sam Denoff (creators of the TV show That Girl!) for a one-hour musical variety show called The Funny Side, hosted by Gene Kelly. I had loved him since I was a little girl and I saw him and Debbie Reynolds and Donald O’Connor in Singin’ in the Rain. The thought of working with him was almost too good to be true. But it was going to be true, because I got the job. And I got the job because of the way I read one specific line. The setup was something like, “How did you know I was rich?” My line was, “Oh, I don’t know, your alligator shoes?”
Bill and Sam told me that I was the only one who had put a question mark at the end of the line and made the joke work. The premise of the show was to take one subject each week and look at the funny side through five different couples using comedy sketches and musical numbers: a husband-and-wife couple played by John Amos and Teresa Graves; a blue-collar husband and wife played by Warren Berlinger and Pat Finley; the comedy team of Dick Clair and Jenna McMahon played the affluent husband and wife; and Bert Mustin and Queenie Smith played the elderly husband and wife.
It was like old home week for me because Michael Lembeck and I played the teenage husband and wife and we had been in the Theatre Arts department at LACC together. Michael Lembeck had a wonderful sense of humor and could sing and dance. I felt a great relief to be teamed with him because he was always solid, always encouraging, and never judgmental when I was off-key or out of step! And believe me there were many times when I was just that! The first day of rehearsal we met Gene Kelly, the host of the show. He asked us all to call him “Gene.” I couldn’t stop staring at him; all I could think of was Singin’ in the Rain, Brigadoon, and An American in Paris.
We shot at NBC studios in the Valley. The soundstage was next to The Tonight Show’s. Sometimes I’d wander over there just to look at Johnny Carson’s desk or into their prop department and sometimes I’d imagine myself on the show with Johnny. This was about to become a reality because our musical director had written a number for Michael and me to perform on The Funny Side called, “Naders Raiders,” a tribute to Ralph Nader. Coincidentally Ralph Nader was scheduled to appear on The Tonight Show. Bill and Sam, along with NBC, came up with the idea to have Michael and I perform the song on The Tonight Show for Ralph Nader. I didn’t want to do it. Really we hadn’t rehearsed enough or done it on our own show yet. But everybody was so keen on it, what could I say? I just kept rehearsing with Michael. They called us over to The Tonight Show soundstage to rehearse. We realized we were shaky on the number. Now I think Michael was questioning it also, but we couldn’t turn back. Then God, in his infinite wisdom, intervened. Our number was bumped because, with all the guests they had appearing, the show was running too long and there wouldn’t be enough time to perform it. Thank you, Lord! We were both more than relieved.
Gene Kelly was very kind to me. One time he and I had a verse to sing together. During rehearsal he told me that we sang alike. We weren’t great singers, but could carry a tune and sound pleasing. Gene choreographed a little dance move to go with the verse we sang together. When we shot the number it was amazing. We did sound great together. He wrapped his arms around me. We swayed and sang, and then I realized I was standing on his foot.
One week our guest star was Jack Benny. Michael and I had a little scene with him and Gene. I had forgotten to take the gum out of my mouth before rehearsal. And at one point I absentmindedly blew a bubble while Jack was going through his dialogue. He used it and did one of his fabulous double-takes. Everyone laughed. He asked me if I would do it again and blow a bubble for him when we shot the show. Well, of course I would! Oh my goodness, setting up one of Jack Benny’s fabulous takes! What a privilege. I was so blessed to be on this show, but sadly, after only thirteen weeks, NBC canceled it. However it wasn’t the last time I would work with the most wonderful Gene Kelly.
In 1972 I was called in to meet with George Cukor to read for the part of Tooley in Travels with My Aunt, which would eventually star Maggie Smith and Alec McCowen. I’d read the book by Graham Green beforehand and had studied the lines to the best of my ability. I thought I was prepared, but I wasn’t. He knew exactly what he wanted and expected you to deliver just that. He was blunt and told you exactly what he thought about you.
George Cukor is famously known for his talent in directing women. At the time his dear friend Katharine Hepburn was set to play the part of Aunt Augusta. I wasn’t nervous at all when I went in. In fact I was unusually calm. I waited for my turn at bat in the outer reception area. The door to Mr. Cukor’s office opened. An actress came flying out. She looked at me for a second and then fled out the door. Had I seen tears in her eyes? I put down the magazine I’d been thumbing through, reached into my purse, pulled out the script, and started to study it immediately.
“Cind
y, you can go in,” the secretary said.
I felt my heart rate rise!
George Cukor was standing. He never sat during the entire audition. He held the script. He would first peer at it and then at me, analyzing both of us. His scrutiny was made sharper by the bifocals that sat on the end of his nose. Each lens was like a spyglass! He wanted to hear me read almost immediately; no chitchat! I read the scene with someone he had provided. I didn’t think I was very good when I was done. He gave me a gaze again, over his spyglasses. Okay! I’ll admit it, I was afraid of him, but at the same time I was mesmerized. He was a strict and disciplined director who expected perfection from actors. I was still a rookie. I was so happy to leave and head home, away from Mr. Cukor’s spyglass gaze! I had almost forgotten about the audition when a week later, my agent called with news that I had the part. It was difficult for me to believe.
By this time Maggie Smith had replaced Katharine Hepburn as Aunt Augusta. I had been so over the moon at being in a movie that starred Katharine Hepburn and now in heaven being in a movie with Maggie Smith. I landed in Madrid jet-lagged and exhausted. In the last three days I had been cast as Tooley, gotten my very first passport, packed my suitcases, and was off to live in Madrid for two months. I’ll never forget the address of the apartment the production company had arranged for me to stay in while I shot my part in Travels. Trente y tres Dr. Fleming Street. The apartment was in Madrid, a little on the outskirts. The street had a lively nightlife and a charming café next door.
Shirley, I Jest!: A Storied Life Page 5