“You don’t corrupt the young American girl with matinee idols.”
“Oh,” Iris replies, “you don’t?” (a possible wink to Robert Montgomery).
What proves more provocative about this sequence is that the role of Jenny is played by none other than actress Joyce Bulifant who, years later would not only go on to star as Gavin MacLeod’s spouse on The Mary Tyler Moore Show (CBS, 1970–1977), but would become William Asher’s wife in real life after his divorce from Lizzie. As Lucifer and Iris discuss Bulifant’s character, Iris looks none too pleased, if not downright jealous, and says of Jenny: “She’s the kind of wife women hate. She designs and makes her own clothes, speaks three languages, she’s a fine cook, a charming hostess; and she’s writing a novel in her spare time.”
An additional noteworthy, if not lengthy, appearances from this early era of Lizzie’s career was when she performed in the “Patterns” segment of another live anthology series, NBC’s Kraft Theatre (1947–1958). “Patterns” aired January 12, 1955, and was written by the prolific Rod Serling and directed with great skill by Fielder Cook. The episode, which was remade as a theatrical feature film the following year, proved so popular, it was first re-performed live on TV February 9, 1955, a rare development for the small screen at the time. Usually, live segments were broadcast only once; even recorded editions of the same episode never aired twice. But such was not the case with “Patterns,” which also just so happened to be the five hundredth episode of Kraft Theatre.
Here, Lizzie played the small role of a secretary named Ann Evans, alongside a cast that included a young Richard Kiley (St. Elsewhere), Ed Begley (father to Ed Begley, Jr., also from St. Elsewhere), Everett Sloane, Joanna Roos, Jack Starter, Victoria Ward, June Dayton, Jack Livesy, and others.
Fred Staples (Kiley) is the newest executive in a large firm who befriends Andy Sloan (Begley). Staples is good at what he does, and the company’s head Walter Ramsay (Sloane) is content with his performance on the job. But the situation soon becomes stressful, delicate, and then ultimately tragic, when Ramsey tells Fred he’s been hired to replace Andy, who has dedicated his life to the company, at the expense of his family.
One of Lizzie’s opening lines (to a fellow secretary) sets the stage for the entire premise. Even though we never hear too much from her again, she says: “No sign of the new genius, I suppose?”
Her most memorable line in the episode: “Wow … you never know when you’re going to hit a nerve”; which, off camera, proved telling of her sometimes too frank conversations with her father—or anyone else who was in the room.
Other than that, she said little else to say or do in “Patterns,” and although it was a small part, she made it her own. She was helped along, of course, by Cook’s clearly defined direction and the densely written script by Serling, with whom Lizzie would work a short time later on her now famous “Two” episode of The Twilight Zone.
Arguably her most prominent and best known pre-Samantha TV spot, “Two” debuted on CBS September 15, 1961, and co-starred a young and pre-superstar Charles Bronzon as the only other cast member. Author Marc Scott Zicree summarized the episode in his excellent book The Twilight Zone Companion (Silman-James Press, 1992):
While searching for food, a young woman wearing the tattered uniform of the invading army encounters an enemy soldier—one intent on declaring peace. Initially, she is violently distrustful of him—a situation which only intensifies when they remove two working rifles from a pair of skeletons. Later, though, when she admires a dress in a store window, he removes it and gives it to her. She goes into a recruiting office to slip it on. Unfortunately, the propaganda posters within rekindle the old hatreds; she rushes out and fires off several rounds at him. The next day, the man returns, dressed in ill-fitting civilian clothes. To his surprise, the woman is wearing the dress. Finally having put aside the war, she joins him and the two of them set off, side by side.
As Zicree appraised, “Two” was penned and directed by the multitalented Montgomery Pittman (1920–1964). Pittman’s first assignment in the Zone was helming “Will the Real Martian Please Stand Up?” But it was “Two” that demonstrated the full extent of his abilities. Here, he presented an optimistic story set in a substantially dark, post–World War III desolated town inhabited only by the dead, with the exception of two enemy soldiers. Zicree explains how fairly obvious it becomes that Bronson signifies an American soldier and Lizzie a Russian. “In fact,” he writes, “her single line is ‘precrassny’—Russian for ‘pretty.’ This is a gritty and realistic story of survival, told with a minimum of dialogue yet with the emphasis always on characterization.”
The “Two” characters “go against the stereotype,” Zicree goes on to say. It is Bronson’s character, “broad and muscular, with a face like an eroded cliff, who is the pacifist.” On the other hand, he labels Lizzie’s character as “one who is suspicious and quick to violent action. Those who remember her from Bewitched might be shocked by her appearance here: long brown hair, smudged face, pretty in a peasant-like way, but not at all the glamour girl.”
Pittman’s widow Murita also comments in the book, saying Lizzie “was so dedicated to her art. Most girls want to look really pretty for the camera. Monty had to fight her, really, because she wanted to make her eyes really black. She got too much makeup on; she was making herself too haggard.”
Maybe so, but her dedication to the role was more than evident. “It was not an easy part by any means,” Zicree concludes.
And Lizzie embraced the challenge. “You find yourself reacting to things you never reacted to before,” she said at the time. “You find it difficult not to exaggerate every look, every action. You think nobody will notice you unless you ham it up. You have to underplay every scene in a play of this type. But I must say I never enjoyed doing a show as much as I did ‘Two.’”
According to The Twilight Zone: Unlocking the Door to a Television Classic by Martin Grams, Jr. (OTR Publishing, 2008), Lizzie thought making “Two” was “creepy. I couldn’t help thinking what it would be like if I went around the corner and there actually wasn’t anyone there—nothing but rubble, grass growing in the streets, the debris of a dead human race.”
On September 18, 1961 The Hollywood Reporter offered its review of “Two”:
Some confusion at CBS as to whether Friday’s Twilight Zone was the season’s debut, the confusion caused by a sponsor change next week, methinks…. But this was the first new one of the season, starring only Charles Bronson and Elizabeth Montgomery in “Two,” a tale of the only two survivors in an atomic war—Bronson, essaying one of us, and Liz, mute but effective as an enemy soldier … Seg was interesting but not as powerful as other short-cast Zones, particularly the one where Robert Cummings carried the show solo (“King Nine Will Not Return,” 9-30-60).
As Grams pointed out in his Zone guide, Variety, the other industry trade, had a policy of reviewing all season premieres of television programs and was also confused. The magazine ended up reviewing next week’s episode instead of this one.
Elizabeth made two appearances on yet another anthology series, this one titled, Appointment with Adventure, which aired for only one season on CBS, from 1955–1956. Filmed live each week, Danger gave viewers a glimpse of drama and adventure from around the world and from the distant and not-so-distant past. Subjects of the weekly plays included the American wars, as well as conflicts of far-away countries, and were performed by a number of well-known stars of the time.
The episodes in which Lizzie starred were called “All Through the Night” (2-5-56) and “Relative Stranger” (11-20-55). In “Night,” she performed with her friend John Cassavetes (an alumnus of the New York Academy of Dramatic Arts) and actress Tina Louise (who would later play movie star Ginger on Gilligan’s Island).
“Relative Stranger,” however, stands out. Written by Irving Werstein and directed by Paul Stanley, the episode also starred William Windom, who would later take home an Emmy for his lead in the gr
ound-breaking if short-lived sitcom, My World and Welcome to It (NBC, 1969–1970). He also appeared as Commodore Matt Decker, commander of the doomed USS Constellation in the famous 1968 Star Trek episode “The Doomsday Machine,” and in the 1980s–1990s portrayed the curmudgeonly Dr. Seth Hazlitt opposite Angela Lansbury’s mystery-writing/solving Jessica Fletcher on CBS’ Murder, She Wrote.
But for the moment, he was married to Lizzie, and found himself involved in the mysterious escapades of “Relative Stranger”:
After her father dies and leaves an inheritance, Helen (Lizzie), a young married American married woman, visits relatives in Copenhagen who prove to be more than unfriendly, if not downright corrupt and violent. Fortunately, her husband Dan (Windom) arrives at a dire moment, and just in the nick of time.
The anthology’s main title (Appointment with Danger) was melodramatic, but it must have appealed to Lizzie’s adventurous side, while the specific episode title (“Relative Stranger”) was an ominous description of how Lizzie at times perceived Robert Montgomery in her youth (as she once admitted not knowing he was an actor until learning so from a fellow Westlake classmate).
The paternal dialogue in “Relative” was clear as a bell. Helen tells Dan things like: “I’m kind of nervous about meeting Dad’s cousins for the first time. I hope they like me”; “I’ve never had a large family. There’s just mother and dad and me”; and “I don’t mind talking about Father. Of course it has been rather lonely without him” (which may have specifically echoed Lizzie’s feelings as a child when her father spent months making movies abroad or serving in the Air Force).
Upon arrival in her relative’s homeland, Helen loses a favorite necklace, explaining: “My grandmother gave it to me,” mirroring the relationship Lizzie had with her grandmother Becca who gifted her with many things (like a cherished broach that Lizzie wore throughout her life), but most importantly the gift of understanding priorities.
In later, more violent scenes, Lizzie’s Helen is seen tied-up with her hands behind her back, spread across a bed on her stomach. It’s a scene that would be repeated, down to camera angles, in her 1992 TV-movie, With Murder in Mind, in which she played real-life real estate agent Gayle Wolfer who was assaulted and traumatized by a client.
But Helen in “Stranger” was the first of many victimized characters Lizzie played before Wolfer in Mind. Eventually, she played Kate Wainwright in The Victim (1972), Ellen Harrod in A Case of Rape, and Catherine McSweeney in Act of Violence …. as well as Helen Warren in the Theatre ’62 segment, “The Spiral Staircase,” in which Lizzie delivered one of her more outstanding performances from this early, pre-Bewitched television era.
“Staircase” debuted as part of NBC’s Theatre ’62 in on October 4, 1961. In this small screen remake of the 1945 film (starring Lizzie’s friend Dorothy McGuire), she plays Helen Capel, who, because of a childhood trauma, has not spoken a word in decades. It’s an old-fashioned mystery with dark hallways, flickering candlelight, rain storms and lightning, and with it, Lizzie delivers one of her most riveting, pre-Samantha dramatic performances. Although the characters are different, the cinematic mood is the same when she plays the murderess Lizzie Borden in the 1975 TV-movie The Legend of Lizzie Borden. But little wonder, as both productions were directed by the talented Paul Wendkos who on “Staircase” also guides the likes of Lizzie’s co-stars Lillian Gish, Edie Adams, Eddie Albert and Gig Young.
Playing a mute character is always a challenge and tour de force for any actor and Lizzie had the chance to do it twice. First, for “Two” on The Twilight Zone and in “Spiral.” As with many of her other roles, the dialogue she heard in “Spiral” proved telling and insightful into Lizzie’s life.
At one point, Helen is told: “Don’t settle. Don’t hide out.” Lizzie never did the former, and infrequently performed the latter.
Elizabeth enjoyed gardening in real life. As Helen, she heard Eddie Albert’s character tell her: “You like to make things grow, don’t you?”
Lizzie had boundless energy, and yet she was one to pick and choose not only her friends but her topics of conversation. And if she didn’t like what she was hearing, for whatever reason (mostly because it may have been negative), she’d switch topics (how Freudian!). That’s why it proves so intriguing when Lillian Gish’s character tells Helen on screen: “You change the subject faster than anyone I know.”
Albert’s character later tells Helen: “You’re imperfect, and there’s just no room in this world for imperfection.”
Yet, Lizzie embraced the imperfect populace of the world. She campaigned for the downtrodden and disadvantaged.
But it’s Gish that has the best “Lizzie-life” dialogue, even though she doesn’t speak it to Lizzie. Rather, she says it to Gig Young’s character, Steven, whom Gish believes is a scoundrel. In the end, we find out otherwise. But before that she tells him:
“You’re an insect, Steven … a carrier … a breeder of disease and disorder. You should have stayed away.”
Young, in real life, proved to have those similar traits. If only Elizabeth had never met and married him. Fortunately, she found the courage to divorce Young and ultimately stayed away from him.
Even in these pre-witched television days, Lizzie had her choice of material, many times receiving personal requests to work with top directors, including a young Sydney Pollack, who years later, went on to become a feature film legend with, among other movies, romantic classics like The Way We Were (1973), Tootsie (1982), and Out of Africa (1985).
As she expressed to TV Guide in August of 1961, she was uncertain about one particular role Pollack had in mind for her.
I don’t know whether I want to do this script or not. It’s a strange kind of a thing, really; Sydney Pollack’s directing it. It’s for Frontier Circus (a CBS series that debut the following September). But it’s really incredible. I was telling (Pollack) today the last three things I’ve done have all come from directors. The Untouchables I got through Wally Grauman, and then last week I did a Twilight Zone (“Two,” scheduled to open Zone’s new season also on CBS in September). I’m absolutely mad (about writer and director) Monte Pittman. I don’t know what it is all of sudden.
What it was was that she was “hot,” and not only in her physical appearance. In spite of her good looks, which were a given, she had talent, and everyone who was anyone in television wanted to work with her, including Pollack for his episode of Frontier Circus, which was created by future Star Trek writer Samuel A. Peeples. The series was about a one-ring circus that traveled through the American West in the 1880s. The segment Pollack had in mind for Lizzie, “Karina,” was written by Jean Holloway, and broadcast on November 9, 1961, and she may have decided to do this episode for several reasons, possibly on a subconscious level:
Karina Andrews (Lizzie) becomes a fugitive after shooting Jeff, her abusive husband (played by Tod Andrews). A first, she hides out in a circus wagon. But owner Col. Casey Thompson (Chill Wills) later allows her to join his camp as the target in a knife-throwing act, just as a local lawman and his vengeful spouse are soon hot on her trail.
It’s a stock and interesting entry in a series that held much potential, but it’s more intriguing that Elizabeth would opt to perform in this episode about an abusive husband, while in the midst of an abusive marriage to Gig Young. In fact, Young was pictured and interviewed with her for the very same article in TV Guide in which she talks about this new Frontier. At one point during the interview, the doorbell rang; as Lizzie explained, albeit playfully, it was the “liquor store man. Mr. Young’s been shopping.”
Lizzie would later play out the “abused” aspect of the Karina Andrews character in future TV-movies like The Victim (1972), A Case of Rape (1974) and Act of Violence (1979), while the fugitive aspect of the Karina role becomes a precursor to similar plights of Lizzie’s future parts in the post-witched TV-movies, Mrs. Sundance (1974) and Belle Starr (1980).
The parallels may have easily been made: Lizzie was in th
e midst of what ultimately turned out to be a failed marriage to Bill Asher, which was in the process of ending right around the time she agreed to star in The Victim. Etta Place, a.k.a. Mrs. Sundance, as well as Belle Starr, were “on the run,” while Lizzie went into hiding with Bewitched director Richard Michaels upon learning of Asher’s affair with actress Nancy Fox (during the eighth season of Bewitched).
A few years before she took the lead in Karina, Elizabeth had played Millie who was experiencing a “Marriage Crisis,” in that 1959 episode of The Loretta Young Show, a dramatic anthology series hosted by the actress (who also appeared in various episodes). By the time of “Crisis,” Lizzie had replaced one real-life marriage drama (with Fred Cammann) with another (Gig Young). What’s more, also appearing with Lizzie in the “Crisis” episode of the Loretta show was future Hawaii Five-O actor Jack Lord playing her husband Joe, who was also her on-screen spouse in her first feature film, The Court-Martial of Billy Mitchell (1955). In that movie, Lord’s character dies. In real life, Cammann is alive, but Lizzie leaves him, and later walks out on Gig, who later dies in a tragic murder-suicide.
However, beyond all of that dire news, Lizzie’s involvement with the “Karina” episode of Frontier Circus further solidified her spirited interest in circus stories. One of her favorite feature films was the 1953 classic Lili, starring Leslie Caron (whose lead character joins the circus), and she starred in the 1981 TV-movie, When the Circus Came to Town (in which her character, Mary Flynn, a bored housewife, joins the circus).
Lizzie’s most prominent pre-Bewitched TV performance is that of her Emmy-nominated lead as a prostitute in The Untouchables episode, “The Rusty Heller Story,” which was directed by the aforementioned Wally Grauman, and which aired on ABC October 13, 1960. A little background on the series in general:
Twitch Upon a Star Page 17