“Tony asked, ‘How did they know which train he was going to take?’
“Hitchcock responded, ‘Daggers at dawn.’
“After a long silence, Hitchcock said, ‘You’ve got the job, if you want it.’”
As he worked with Hitchcock, Shaffer found he was always hungry. Their daily lunch in Hitchcock’s bungalow on the Universal lot was leaving him wishing for more food, and for some variety.
Hitchcock followed his daily regimen of steak, ground or filet, and during the first days, Shaffer ate the same and didn’t say anything. He depended on the candy bar machine to sustain him.
One day, referring to the steak, potatoes, and salad lunch, Hitchcock said, “That was delicious.”
Shaffer agreed. Then he ventured, “But I thought I might like to order something different one of these days.”
“Of course, dear boy, of course,” Hitchcock said. “Tomorrow.”
The next day, Shaffer joined Hitchcock in his studio bungalow for lunch, expecting to be offered a wider range of choices from the Universal commissary menu. Instead, he was stunned to find the office filled with elaborate serving trays, chafing dishes, food warmers, and casseroles, succulent entrées, appetizing aromas, and an enticing dessert cart.
Hitchcock had ordered what Shaffer described as “a fifteen-course meal” from Chasen’s, complete with a waiter from the restaurant to serve it. After lunch, Shaffer, far from being able to work more effectively, could scarely work at all. He could think only about a nap. The next day it was back to steak and potatoes.
Film and theatrical producer David Brown remembered once flying cross-country on the same flight with Hitchcock and Alma. “They were going to New York, and Hitchcock spent the whole trip talking about what restaurants they were going to and what he was going to order in each. In those days, it was Lutèce and Pavillon.
“During the luncheons at Universal that Dick Zanuck and I had with Hitch in his private dining room, he would expound on his theories of filmmaking. He told us he never shot anything that wouldn’t be used in the film. Another theory was it’s better if we know who the perpetrator is and the characters don’t. That was one of his chief theories of suspense.”
Curtis Harrington, in London at the time Hitchcock was filming Frenzy, spoke with him and Alma during their happy days there, before her stroke. Invited by friends to an elegant and very expensive restaurant, Harrington saw the Hitchcocks and Joan Harrison at another table.
“I discreetly waited until they finished their dessert and coffee before I went over to pay my respects,” Harrington remembered. Mr. Hitchcock immediately recognized me, and he greeted me warmly. He introduced me to his wife and Miss Harrison, and at that moment, the captain arrived with the check. Mr. Hitchcock reached for his wallet. He couldn’t find it. He looked up at me, very innocently.
“‘Oh, Curtis,’ he said, clearly enunciating my name, ‘I seem to have come out without my wallet. I wonder, could you…’
“I nearly died. I didn’t have that kind of money on me. Or off me. I was probably looking pale. He reached into his pocket again, and this time, he found his wallet. That was his sense of humor.”
THOM MOUNT, formerly head of production at Universal, talked with me about Hitchcock’s “bungalow” at Universal.
“One of the things that fascinated me as a young executive was the quality of a self-designed universe that was built for Mr. Hitchcock on the Universal lot. He had offices that were exactly the offices he wanted in the way he wanted them, meaning a very nice office, which he barely used, a little dining room, which he used a lot, a separate kitchen, areas for his assistants. Then, behind that in this sort of railroad car of a building, his cutting room, and behind that his screening room; and then, an additional room—bedroom, bath, a kind of wardrobe, so that if Mr. Hitchcock was working, if he wanted to, he could virtually live there.
“The commissary brought the food over. Mr. Hitchcock always ate the same thing every day: steak, mashed potatoes, and sliced tomatoes. And sometimes there was a dessert, if he felt he deserved it.”
After some critical and box office disappointments, Frenzy restored Hitchcock’s successful image. Costing $2 million to make, it brought back $16 million.
During the filming of Frenzy, Alma suffered a stroke. She wanted to stay at Claridge’s, and when she felt better, she was flown back to Los Angeles. Hitchcock, who could not imagine a life without Alma, had to direct the rest of the film alone. Barry Foster told me that Hitchcock became listless and seemed uninterested in his picture, though he was always able to draw on a reserve of energy when needed.
“Hitchcock was so pleased when Alma was able to view Frenzy and she approved it enthusiastically,” Foster said. “She had tears of happiness in her eyes.”
ON APRIL 29, 1974, the Film Society of Lincoln Center honored Alfred Hitchcock, who arrived in the limousine with Alma and Princess Grace.
Among those who appeared at the gala tribute were François Truffaut, Janet Leigh, Joan Fontaine, Teresa Wright, Cyril Ritchard, and Samuel Taylor.
The Film Society’s gala was still young, with Hitchcock being only their third honoree. Fred Astaire and Charles Chaplin had preceded him.
Martin E. Segal, the head of the Film Society of Lincoln Center, told me he noticed that Princess Grace had disappeared from the table where the special guests were eating, and she was nowhere to be seen. He went in search of her. He found her outside in the hallway, standing alone.
“Aren’t you going to join us?” he asked her. “Please come and have something to eat.”
Kelly declined. “Thank you, but I can’t. Do you like my dress?”
“It’s beautiful and you look beautiful in it.”
“That’s why I can’t eat anything. My dress is so tightly fitted, I can’t afford one bite, and if I go inside and watch everyone eating, I might be tempted.”
“Then please let me bring you a chair.”
“Thank you, but I can’t sit down because I don’t want to wrinkle my dress.”
When Segal told Hitchcock what Kelly had said, the director nodded. “Yes,” he said. “I understand.”
At the tribute, Hitchcock commented, “They say that when a man drowns, his entire life flashes before his eyes. I am indeed fortunate for having just that same experience without even getting my feet wet.”
He closed his acceptance speech in characteristic fashion:
“I’m sure you will agree that murder can be so much more charming and enjoyable even for the victim if the surroundings are pleasant and the people involved are ladies and gentlemen like yourselves.
“They tell me that a murder is committed every minute, so I don’t want to waste any more of your time. I know you want to get to work.”
THERE WAS GOSSIP during the filming of Hitchcock’s next film, Family Plot, with people saying that he directed from a car rather than on the set because “he couldn’t be bothered to get out,” the implication being that he didn’t care about the film.
He cared desperately, but by then he was in constant physical pain. His legs no longer supported him, and he was afraid of falling. He believed a director could not direct if he lost his dignity. “My dignity is a heavy burden to carry,” he told me. The outside world, even most of the inside world, did not know the truth, because Universal was dedicated to protecting the director.
“I went to work for Mr. Wasserman in 1973,” Thom Mount told me, “so I knew Mr. Hitchcock from then until he died. For Family Plot, a lot of the work was done on the soundstage, but Mr. Hitchcock had a very hard time standing up for any lengthy period of time.
“Walking was not his strong suit by that time, so we took an old Cadillac convertible and a welding torch, and we cut the sides, and the back off of it, fitted a flat platform on the back of the Cadillac, and on that flat platform we put a chair for a cinematographer, as if it were a crane that was mounted on a hydraulic lift. Mr. Hitchcock would sit in the chair and move himself around in any direction and see in all di
rections. The Cadillac was moved all around the soundstage, even though they were interiors, just backing it into place, wherever it needed to be. And so Mr. Hitchcock could move around.
“Of course, it had the dual purpose of being able to move to outdoor locations. Mr. Hitchcock would listen to the boom mike on a direct feed through a little earphone. He could hear everything that was going on, every little nuance of the actors’ work and performance.
“Even if Hitchcock didn’t necessarily love all actors, as long as each actor was part of the film Hitchcock was creating, that actor was important to him.”
Before and during the shooting of Family Plot, Hitchcock’s health was a problem, for him and for the film.
Hilton Green remembered: “Lew Wasserman would come by the set when Mr. H. was shooting every morning, and he would come over to me and say, ‘How’s he doing? Is everything all right?’ Then he’d go talk to him.”
Production was delayed by Hitchcock’s health. After he complained of dizziness, a pacemaker was implanted. Then, there were operations for colitis and a kidney stone. Still, filming proceeded.
Family Plot, was based on The Rainbird Pattern, a novel by Victor Canning. Hitchcock asked Anthony Shaffer if he would like to write the screenplay, but Shaffer declined. With some misgivings about the story, Ernest Lehman agreed. The locale of the novel was changed, and California replaced rural England.
Spiritualist Blanche Tyler (Barbara Harris) is asked to locate a missing heir, whom she pursues with her cab driver boyfriend, George Lumley (Bruce Dern), an unemployed actor. The man they seek, Arthur Adamson (William Devane), is posing as a legitimate jeweler while kidnapping wealthy people for a ransom in diamonds. He is assisted by his wife, Fran (Karen Black).
Following a false lead, they inadvertently become involved with the Adamsons, and Blanche and George are almost killed. Afterward, their paths cross frequently, causing Fran to believe in Blanche’s powers.
Adamson’s next kidnapping is complicated by George and Blanche being accidental witnesses, and Blanche is held prisoner. George rescues her, foiling Adamson’s plans and leading Blanche to the chandelier where the diamonds are hidden. Skeptical George now believes in Blanche’s powers, but a wink from her to the audience implies otherwise.
Though Hitchcock didn’t know it at the time, this last wink by Barbara Harris was to be his own last wink at his “public.” Hitchcock told me he had wanted Jack Nicholson for the part of George Lumley, “but Mr. Nicholson was too busy flying over a cuckoo nest.” Thom Mount said that Nicholson was not only busy, but too high-priced. The part went to Bruce Dern, who had played the sailor young Marnie kills.
“Hitch noticed me in Marnie,” Dern said. “I had a small part in it, but I got the lead in Family Plot. Hitch was very different when he was directing Marnie from when he was doing Plot.
“With Marnie, he had everything storyboarded, and there wasn’t room to ad-lib. You didn’t get to know him at all. Family Plot was storyboarded, too, but if you wanted to try something, he was open, and if he liked it, he was ready to drop the storyboard and let you run with what you’d come up with.
“I thought it was because he got to know me better and trusted me, and I made him laugh. I told him jokes I can’t repeat which he enjoyed and which pepped him up. A lot of actors were so in awe of him they couldn’t do that. On Plot I found him friendly and always ready to listen to me, but maybe he’d just gotten weaker.”
Shortly after shooting began, Roy Thinnes, who had been cast as Adamson, the villain, was replaced by William Devane. Thinnes never knew why.
“I’d just finished The Hindenberg with Robert Wise,” Thinnes told me, “and he suggested me to Alfred Hitchcock. I was on top of the world.
“I met with Hitchcock in his office several times. He lifted his shirt and showed me his pacemaker. We tasted wine from his own cellar, had some amusing conversations, and talked a lot about my character. It doesn’t get any better.
“Our first work was at the Grace Cathedral in San Francisco. Hitchcock believed that absolutely anything could happen in front of a congregation at high mass, and everyone would behave, because they were on their church behavior. The criminal, dressed as a verger, and his accomplice, disguised as an old woman, inject the bishop with a hypodermic needle in front of everyone during mass, and drag him away.
“Since my character wouldn’t have wanted to leave fingerprints, I suggested using rubber gloves. I should have understood that you don’t mess with something that’s been storyboarded by Hitchcock. But he listened, and we shot with and without the gloves. But I sensed some tension about it.
“In the morning, my wife and I were invited to dine with the Hitchcocks at Ernie’s that night. It couldn’t get any better.
“Then, in the afternoon, we were dis-invited. This was after my suggestion of the gloves.
“At the end of each day, Peggy [Robertson], Hitchcock’s assistant, told me, ‘He just thinks you’re wonderful.’
“I had promised my wife we were going to Ernie’s that night, so we went to Ernie’s. We had the special table, center stage. Then, my wife said, ‘Look. In the corner.’
“It was Alma and Alfred, and the cast.
“During the evening, Alma came by, and she was so apologetic.
“Back in Los Angeles, my agent called, weeping, saying I had been fired.
“I’d worked three days with Hitchcock.
“About a month later, I was at Chasen’s, and there he was. I nodded to him and to Mrs. Hitchcock. She said, ‘He’s sorry, dear. It’s just that you’re so very nice.’ Hitchcock didn’t say anything.
“I’d played the villain in a rather nice way because I wanted to develop his evil side so the audience could go along with my character. I could have, would have, played the part in a more sinister way if he’d told me.
“About a year later, Bruce Dern told me that on the last day of shooting, Hitchcock had asked him to come over to his bungalow to see the scenes he had shot with me.
“Hitch said, ‘I made a terrible mistake, didn’t I?’
“It made me feel a lot better. This great man had gone all the way out on a limb with my fellow actor to say, ‘I made a mistake, didn’t I?’ He knew that Bruce would tell me.
“I was very upset when he [Hitchcock] died. I’d had the feeling that we would work together again.”
Lillian Gish wanted to test for the part of Julia Rainbird, but it had been promised to Cathleen Nesbitt. “I had no idea what the movie was about,” Gish told me, “only that the character was an elderly lady being directed by Alfred Hitchcock. It’s taken me a long time to achieve the first qualification for the part. I started out with Mr. Griffith, so, I thought why not end with Mr. Hitchcock?” Despite Hitchcock’s saying that his favorite chase film was D. W. Griffith’s Way Down East starring Lillian Gish, she did not get the part.
Henry Bumstead found Family Plot a much simpler picture to design than Topaz. “It was mostly done around the studio, but, you know, everything you did with Hitch was demanding.
“There was that car chase up the mountains, and I found this area. When I took Hitch up there, he told the driver, ‘Only a crazy art director would find this location.’ But the location did work. The thing with Hitch was, it was hard to get him out to look at these locations. I tried as much as I could to take pictures and show him, so he had to trust me.
“We had a cemetery exterior, and we made a deal with the cemetery to let the weeds grow, and that we would clean it all up afterwards.
“You go out in the morning, and there’s 150 people standing around the cemetery. They’re serving breakfast, and everybody’s got a sandwich, waiting for Hitch, and Hitch drives up. It is a little nerve-wracking.
“We’re all standing around these tombstones, and Hitch is pouting. I’m pointing up to where the sun should be, but there’s no sun. I had to go get a painter to paint the names on the tombstones so you could read the names without the sun.”
“M
Y YOUNGEST DAUGHTER, Pamela, when she was about twelve,” Hilton Green told me, “wanted to come in and watch Mr. H. shoot. I said, ‘No, he doesn’t want kids.’ But she insisted. And I said, ‘Well, if you promise to stay in the back all the time, and not make a whimper.’ So, I brought her in and stood her over in the corner in the dark watching. This was especially serious, because it was for a feature.
“I went over and talked with him. And he says, ‘Who’s the young lady that you won’t let come in?’ He knew everything.
“I told him she’s my daughter, and he says, ‘Why is she over there?’
“‘Because I don’t want her to disturb you.’
“‘But that’s your daughter. Bring her over here.’ And he called the prop man and brought a chair, and Mr. H. had it put right beside him. I introduced them, and he says, ‘Hilton, you can go.’ And he sat there the rest of the day with her. He directed the movie and talked, and explained things to her. I just couldn’t get over it.”
THE FILM OPENED to mixed reviews on the negative side. Some were generous reviews by critics who respected and even revered Hitchcock. Most were routinely poor reviews. A few were excessively cruel. Family Plot was not a financial success.
Rumors circulated that Hitchcock was drinking too much at this time. Howard Kazanjian, who was working closely with him, wanted to refute these rumors.
“I never saw him drink, even wine. Only towards the very end, maybe six months before he passed on. In his top drawer, he would have a little bit of vodka, and he’d start that maybe at four in the afternoon, just about the time he went home. And that’s what irritates me so much, when people say that he drank heavily. If Hitchcock had a drink, he had it late in the afternoon.”
In spite of his physical problems, Hitchcock maintained his professional reserve, which extended to his dress code.
“Mr. H.’s dress code contrasted sharply with what we know now in Hollywood,” Hilton Green recalled. “Many people took him by mistake as very stuck-up and felt he wouldn’t talk, and that wasn’t true.
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