James Dean

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by Darwin Porter


  “When he’s finished, he turns over and goes to sleep, leaving me panting and unsatisfied.” Jimmy claimed.

  Since both men were actors fully suited for portraying the same characters, they sometimes competed—alongside Paul Newman—for the same roles. Newman, along with a lot of other actors, too, especially desired the role of the rowdy cowpoke chasing after a stripper in William Inge’s play, Bus Stop.

  At first, Jimmy went after the role, planning to pursue Inge and to offer his body once again as a means of procuring the role. But then he read an item that Inge revealed to a journalist, perhaps as a means of concealing his sexual attraction to Jimmy.

  “I don’t want James Dean in one of my plays,” Inge said. “His moods are unpredictable. He scares the pants right off me. What if in the middle of the play, this temperamental actor decides to tear up the script and write his own lines?”

  Jimmy was deeply insulted and announced that he would not accept the role of Bo Decker even it was offered to him.

  Ironically, the part eventually went to Salmi, appearing on Broadway at the same time opposite Jimmy’s friend, Kim Stanley. She telephoned Jimmy and told him how disappointed she was that they wouldn’t be working together.

  Bus Stop opened to rave reviews at the Music Box Theater on May 23, 1953. Even Elvis Presley went to see it, seeking the movie role of the cowboy, but Col. Tom Parker, his manager, nixed the idea.

  June, 1955 edition of Theatre Arts magazine, promoting Albert Salmi with Kim Stanley as a washed-up stripper in the Broadway production of Bus Stop

  After that, Salmi was then offered the film role of Bus Stop’s gauche and horny cowboy opposite Marilyn Monroe, but Salmi turned it down, proclaiming that he didn’t like movie making. Eventually, the role of Bo in Bus Stop’s film version went to Don Murray, who got rave reviews.

  As for Salmi, during his road tour of the theatrical version of Bus Stop, he met and eventually married the former child actress Peggy Ann Garner, and ended his involvement with Jimmy. In 1963, the couple divorced. The following year, Salmi married Roberta Pollock Taper. The couple had two daughters.

  Eventually, Salmi moved to Washington State, where he lived in semi-retirement. He separated from his wife in 1990, but continued to harass and threaten her. Finally, on April 23 of that year, Salmi, suffering from a severe clinical depression, fatally shot his estranged wife. A few hours later, he put a fatal bullet to his own head.

  Jimmy, of course, never lived to learn of Salmi’s committing such violence.

  “For God’s Sake, You’re Not Frank Sinatra—

  AND DON’T GO TO HOLLYWOOD TRYING TO BECOME ANOTHER TAB HUNTER”

  —ELI WALLACH TO JAMES DEAN

  Jimmy would appear for a final time with Eli Wallach and Anne Jackson when he performed a dramatic reading at the Cherry Lane Theater in Greenwich Village on February 12, 1954. The New School of Social Research arranged for Howard Sackler to showcase Sophocles’ tragedy, Trachiniae, a modern version with a provocative, free-wheeling translation by the crazed poet, Ezra Pound, who translated its title as Women of Trachnis.

  Pound came up with his version of this classical Greek tragedy while a prisoner incarcerated at St. Elizabeth’s Hospital in Washington, D.C. Here, he was held for twelve years, placed in Howard’s Hall in a cell known as “Hell’s Hole,” with no window. He lived behind a thick steel door with nine peepholes through which psychiatrists could secretly observe him.

  Jimmy knew nothing about Pound and went to the library to research his life. Born in the Idaho Territory in 1885, he graduated with a prestigious education from Hamilton College [in Clinton, New York] in 1905. Later, after spending years of what authorities defined as “collaboration with an enemy,” he was defined as a traitor working against the interests of the United States.

  In 1924, he’d moved to Italy, where he embraced Mussolini’s fascism. From there, during World War II, he made radio broadcasts that attacked the Jews and Franklin D. Roosevelt. As a vicious anti-Semite, he supported the extermination policies of Adolf Hitler.

  In 1945, he was arrested by Allied soldiers and sent as a prisoner to Washington, D.C., where he was incarcerated for years in a psychiatric asylum, producing poetry hailed by some academics as that of a troubled genius.

  Jimmy found Pound’s personal history fascinating, and was eager to work with Jackson and Wallach (whom he continued to admire) again. He also appeared with a distinguished New York actor, Joseph Sullivan, who had the fourth starring role. He was already well-known on Broadway, having starred in such productions as The Country Girl, a successful play that was later adapted into a movie starring Grace Kelly, who took the Oscar away from Judy Garland for her role in A Star Is Born (1954).

  In the staging of this obscure ancient Greek play, Jimmy was cast as Hyllus, son of Herakles (Wallach) and Daianeira (Jackson). Onstage, he denounces his mother for murdering his father. [“Damn you, I wish you were dead.”] Devastated by her son’s attack, she commits suicide. “Heavy stuff,” was Jimmy’s critique.

  Wallach remembered that Jimmy was nervous during rehearsals, not about the Greek tragedy, but about a possible screen test for Elia Kazan who was casting East of Eden at around the same time.

  Jimmy told Wallach that he didn’t think he could go through with the test. “I hate being tested like a slave on the auction block. Frankly, I don’t feel up to the role. What if I make an ass of myself and word gets out? I could be finished for future parts.”

  “You’ll be great,” Wallach assured him. “I used to vomit butterflies before going on. An actor who isn’t nervous doesn’t give a fuck.”

  “I’ve had a screen test before,” he said. “I went out for the role of Curly in Oklahoma!”

  “For god’s sake, boy,” Wallach said. “Frank Sinatra was also offered the role, and so was Gordon MacCrae, but you’re nothing like them. Be yourself.”

  “If you go to Hollywood, don’t be another Tab Hunter,” Wallach said. “One Tab is enough.”

  For Jimmy, the most lasting benefit of his appearance in Women of Trachnis involved his introduction by Howard Sackler to the musician, Leonard Rosenblum, who was composing the music for the play. Rosenblum, who later scored East of Eden and Rebel Without a Cause, would eventually become one of Jimmy’s closest friends.

  Rosenblum, who was gay, was immediately attracted to Jimmy. Sackler had warned him, “Dean’s a tough kid. Sleeps on nails.” Ironically, it was that very image that attracted Rosemblum, who liked to be dominated by a master.

  Jimmy moved in with Rosenblum, and the two men became lovers. “He’ll do anything I demand,” Jimmy said. “One night I didn’t want to get up and go to the toilet. I was too stoned. So I ordered the fucker to have a drink. He swallowed every drop, just as I commanded.”

  Jimmy eventually showed up at Jerry’s Tavern for dinner with his new lover and S&M partner, shocking Jerry with his black leather jacket and boots. “My god,” Jerry said. “He looked like a member of the Nazi SS.”

  When some of Jerry’s Jewish guests complained, the owner told them that Jimmy was appearing in a World War II drama. When he asked Jimmy about it, he answered, “My new friend likes me to dress up like this. As a Jew, he imagines being assaulted, beaten, and raped by the Gestapo.”

  “You’re bad, kid, but I really love you,” Jerry said. “Try the lasagna. It’s on the house tonight.”

  Sackler was very impressed with Jimmy’s acting and promised to cast him in future plays he planned to direct. Regrettably, Jimmy would not be around to star in those roles.

  Sackler would go on to direct plays across America, Europe, and South America. His best known work would become The Great White Hope, which opened as a play in 1967, and which was adapted into a film in 1970. Both the stage and film version (for which it generated Oscar nominations), starred James Earl Jones and Jane Alexander.

  [Sackler died on October 12, 1982, in his studio on the island of Ibiza, one of the Balearic Islands off the Mediterranean coast of
Spain. The cause of his death was never determined. His friends claimed that he was murdered.]

  Jimmy, of course, ignored Eli Wallach’s advice and moved to Hollywood, where he starred in East of Eden. But as soon as he could, he rushed back to New York and his Broadway friends, especially Frank Corsaro. This time, since offers were pouring in, he wasn’t looking for work. He wanted to walk the streets of Manhattan again and visit his familiar haunts.

  The first person he phoned after his return was Corsaro, who was organizing the production of a Broadway play entitled A Hatful of Rain. Honoring an earlier promise, he wanted Jimmy to star in either of two lead male roles.

  During their reunion, Corsaro read aloud the play, authored by Michael V. Gazzo, to Jimmy.

  A Hatful of Rain broke ground in that it was a candid and sympathetic portrayal of drug addiction. Corsaro defined it as “an unflinching portrait of a young, lower middle-class man struggling to break his drug habit.”

  “In other words, you want me to play a junkie?” Jimmy asked. “It’s certainly got some pungent dialogue as this family struggles with its addict son.”

  Corsaro told Jimmy that he’d be ideal in the role of Johnny Pope, a veteran of the Korean War who, while recuperating from battle injuries in an Army hospital, became addicted to morphine. The script had another strong role too; that of Polo Pope, Johnny’s brother who courageously lends strong support to his junkie sibling. Yet despite his status as Jimmy’s mentor, Corsaro could not persuade his protégé to accept either role.

  When the play eventually opened in November of 1955, about two months after Jimmy’s death, on Broadway, Jimmy—had he lived—would probably have been jealous of the rave reviews his rival, Ben Gazzara, received for his performance alongside Shelley Winters and Tony Franciosa. Behind the scenes those latter two had “shacked up” (Winter’s words) and later, in 1957, embarked on a tempestuous marriage.

  Also in 1957, the script for A Hatful of Rain was adapted into a film. The role developed onstage by Gazzara went to Don Murray, and the Winters role was assigned to Eva Marie Saint. Franciosa repeated his stage role on the screen.

  ***

  In the summer of 1954, Corsaro organized a production of August Strindberg’s Ghost Sonata [aka Spöksonaten] at the Actors Studio. “I promised to give Jimmy the role of Arkenholz, the student with second sight,” Corsaro said. “When he told me ‘to go fuck myself,’ I got so mad at him, I abandoned producing it altogether. He would have been terrific in the role. He and I had a silly argument about a rental I’d arranged for him in the studio of Jonathan Bates when he was out of town. We didn’t speak until that autumn, when we made up once again.”

  ***

  [In the aftermath of Jimmy’s tragic death in 1955, at least three key of his Actors Studio contacts weighed in with their opinions about his talents, and his accomplishments or lack thereof.

  As expressed by Corsaro, “If Jimmy had lived, I was certain that he would have returned to the stage. He needed the sound of applause, something a movie star doesn’t get. He needed a live audience, which he had the power to win over. How do you think his memory has survived after all these years if he lacked the ability to communicate to an audience.?”

  Shelley Winters told Corsaro, “Marlon Brando and Jimmy certainly contributed to the itch-and-scratch school of acting. They were the chief graduates of the ‘Dirty Fingernails School.’ Also, the ‘Torn Shirt School,’ even the ‘Smelly Armpits Academy.’ They made wrinkled fatigues and dirty jeans their haute couture. They also pioneered the inaudible school of acting, specializing in the slovenly and the rude. But let’s ask ourselves the question: ‘Why did we love them so?’”

  Months later, Corsaro shared his memories of Jimmy’s return from the West Coast after his filming of East of Eden. “He was drinking a lot of brandy when not swirling it around in a snifter. He was really on edge. He claimed that he’d ‘managed’ Kazan, although I doubted that. I don’t think he was handling all his publicity very well. In fact, I think he was starting to believe his press.”

  “He was a highly charged sexual son of a bitch,” Corsaro said to Lee Strasberg. “A younger version of Brando, whom someone had labeled ‘the brute with a girl’s eyes.’ Jimmy played the field with a delicate macho aura but with a feminine streak, too. He seemed to be uttering a contradiction—‘Save me! Save me! But don’t get near me.’”

  “He lived in a complex, shadowy world. Emotionally, he remained the hustler he’d been in his early days in Hollywood and in New York, too, when he first hit town. A lot of his trouble stemmed from his androgyny. He wanted to celebrate it at the same time he wanted to eradicate it. His cruelty often arose from the inner turmoil raging within him.”

  In October of 1956, about a year after Jimmy’s death, Strasberg addressed his class at the Actors Studio. “I have just seen James Dean in Giant,” he announced, “and I must say…” At that point, he choked up and began to cry. According to Strasberg, “When I got back home, the tears rained down. I cried from the pleasure and joy of watching his performance. I also cried for the waste, that awful waste of a great talent who never lived to show us just what he could do.”

  Yet in the years to come, Strasberg would express views that were more negative about Jimmy. “Dean did not go far enough in his work, even in the latter stages, which is all we have to judge. He did not use enough of himself, which he kept buried in some secret dark hole. While he continued to forge ahead in getting work as an actor, he failed to make any progress that I was aware of. It seemed that he’d adopted this persona, and that he was going to stick with it.”

  In 1955, Jimmy launched a brief affair with Lee’s daughter, the actress, Susan Strasberg. She once told Darwin Porter, “I didn’t know if Jimmy were attracted to me as a woman, or else whether he was getting revenge on my father.”]

  James Dean vs. Tab Hunter

  VYING FOR THE SAME ROLES, AND DATING THE SAME WOMEN

  BUT DID THEY, OR DIDN’T THEY?

  Leon Uris (1924-2003), a novelist best known for his bestselling historical fiction, had written a popular novel based on World War II, Battle Cry, and had also penned the screenplay for its adaptation into a film that was released in 1955. Raoul Walsh had been designated as its director. At the time, Walsh was one of the biggest directors in Hollywood, having helmed such actors as Humphrey Bogart and Errol Flynn.

  Battle Cry was the story of the U.S. Marines, following them from boot camp in San Diego into combat at Guadalcanal in the Pacific, tracing their disparate cultural backgrounds as they build and manifest, through tragedy and sweat, an esprit de corps.

  Tab Hunter...American Adonis

  One of the best roles was that of PFC Danny Forrester, a sensitive young Marine who has a girlfriend but also indulges, during training, in an affair with an older woman.

  William Orr, the son-in-law of Jack Warner, had tested some one hundred actors, including Paul Newman, but hadn’t found anyone that suited his taste. John Kerr, Jimmy’s former lover, had made one of the best tests, but Orr was also considering Robert Wagner for the role.

  Elia Kazan called Orr and told him, “There is this hot young actor in New York who would make a great Danny. I think he’s going to be a big star. His name is James Dean. Here’s your chance to use him before his price soars.”

  The film was going to be shot in CinemaScope, which didn’t interest Jimmy. Nor did the movie itself. But when he learned that his former acting coach, the rugged James Whitmore, had signed as one of its stars, he was lured into making a screen test.

  Except for the role of Danny, the major parts had already been cast with actors who included Van Heflin in the key role of “High Pockets.” He’d be backed up by Aldo Ray, Anne Francis, Dorothy Malone, Mona Freeman, and Jimmy’s future nemesis, Raymond Massey.

  “Most actors were watering at the mouth to play Danny,” Orr said. “But not Dean. I figured he was just playing hard to get to make himself more desirable as an actor.”

  As hi
s girlfriend in the test, Orr had selected an attractive young actress, Ruda Michelle (also known as Ruda Podemski). She was familiar with Jimmy, having spotted him from time to time back at Cromwell’s Pharmacy, which she had often visited, carrying a sandwich in a paper bag, since she could afford only coffee.

  When, in preparation for the screen test, she was formally introduced to Jimmy, he invited her to his small apartment in Manhattan. When she arrived there, she was startled to find him draped in a bullfighter’s cape. He told her that it had belonged to the great matador, Sidney Franklin from Brooklyn. “That didn’t sound like any bullfighter’s name to me,” Michelle said.

  She later claimed that he didn’t really want to rehearse their scene for the next day’s test. Instead, he asked her to sit with him on his battered old sofa, telling her he wanted her to hear a recording of David Diamond’s 1944 work for stringed orchestra, “Rounds.” [Modernist, melodic, and avant-garde, it’s arguably the most popular work that Diamond ever composed.]

  “Sit close to me and don’t be afraid,” he told her. “I don’t bite. Just listen to the sound of the music.”

  The evening passed, and unlike what she had expected, he made no attempt to seduce her.

  Both of them arrived separately the next day for their screen test. Orr remembered it vividly: “Danny was supposed to be a cleancut, all American boy, but Dean came in with a three-day beard dressed in an old Army surplus jacket, a pair of dirty blue jeans, and wearing some shit-kicking boots, more appropriate for the wilds of rattlesnake country in West Texas.”

  Orr didn’t expect the test to be successful, but he later claimed, “I was electrified by it.”

  As soon as he’d seen the results, he wrote to Jack Warner: “You will see from this test that even though James Dean is of dubious appearance, and there is a trace of the Brando school of acting, he is unique, certainly not a conventional actor. He brings more vitality to the role than a hundred actors I’ve tested. He enjoys a fine reputation in New York as a most talented young man, perhaps a bit difficult to handle, but Walsh can get out his whip and, with that patch over his eye, beat some obedience into this unruly boy. Makeup, of course, can take care of his appearance.”

 

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