COLOR SCHEMES LIKE NEVER BEFORE - April 1963 (Naked City)

I returned to Los Angeles after completing filming NARCISSUS ON AN OLD RED FIRE ENGINE. After a couple of days of catching up I decided I would fly back to Iowa and spend Passover with my family. I made my air line reservations, packed my bags and off I flew. I wasn’t there two days when I received a telephone call from one of my agents.

“What are you doing there?” he asked.

“I’m going to spend Passover with my family. Why?”

“You’re supposed to be in New York. You’re booked to direct another NAKED CITY.”

It seems that when I was released from the commitment to direct the ROUTE 66 in Florida, I had been rebooked to do a NAKED CITY. But nobody had told me. So I repacked my recently unpacked bags and caught the first flight I could to New York. Getting in and out of Mason City, Iowa by air line was not an easy task. There was a shuttle flight to Minneapolis, and from there I went on to the Big Apple.

Guess what? I arrived in New York to find just a very few pages of a script by Alvin Sargent, COLOR SCHEMES LIKE NEVER BEFORE. A little deja vu? Marion Daugherty, that gem of a casting director for both Bert Leonard productions, had cast from the story synposis they must have sent her. The principle actors -- Johnny Seven, Lou Antonio, Carol Rossen, Eugene Roche -- were set so far. She would cast more people as script arrived.

Our principal location was going to be the exterior of a brownstone, and it had to be a building that we would be able to access; characters would be entering and exiting the building. We went scouting in Greenwich Village and found a cul-de-sac street of brownstones that would work perfectly, since we would be avoiding the traffic flow of a city throughway street. Although we didn’t have the script yet, we were told we would also need an apartment building across the street from our brownstone.

So let’s meet two of our principal characters.

In Hollywood the woman at the table with Charlie would have been cast with a member of the Screen Extras Guild, who would have earned a salary bump for extra business. In New York members of SAG, the Screen Actors Guild, willingly took 'extra' assignments like this. After all it was work and there was a pay check. And if you watch her closely, you will see she WAS AN ACTRESS.

Bert called me very soon after I arrived in New York with a request. He impressed on me the fact that this was a story about three ordinary guys. They were not professional criminals. They were just ordinary blokes, and that is the way they should be portrayed. I liked that.

NAKED CITY was my first excursion into police drama, and this was my third NAKED CITY. The crime side of the story was always more interesting and exciting than the police procedures. In the future I would direct another forty cop or detective shows. None of them wrote the side of the law as well as NAKED CITY.

The one fault I found with the New York crew was SOUND. On one pull back dolly two shot I first did my master shot. Then as we were preparing to repeat the scene, filming a close-up, I noticed the sound boom man was seated on the front of the dolly, reading a magazine, but not preparing to extend his microphone boom. When I questioned this, he replied he already got it in the master shot. He also ended up getting it in the two close-ups.

We had a scene between the two brothers at a construction site. We arrived at the location at the end of the afternoon when the construction crew was preparing to quit for the day. Johnny Seven, Carmine in our cast, knew some of the men on the crew. He made the arrangements that got me the opening shot of this sequence, but as we shot the following scene, I couldn’t shoot in that direction again. The crew had finished for the day and left.

Charlie's packing in the script was interrupted by a six page telephone sequence that concerned me. I worried about keeping that long a phone call interesting. And I was concerned that, should they want to shorten the sequence in the editing room, the coverage to do it should be there. I worried unnecessarily. Nothing was cut in the final version of this scene.

I have to take a moment here to rave about these two actors. I had seen Lou earlier in the year in a supporting role on Broadway in a lacklustre production of CAMILLE starring Susan Strasberg. Carol was from one of Hollywood’s royal families. Her father was the legendary Robert Rossen, with dozens of classic screenplays to his credit before he also began directing. His ten writer-director credits include ALL THE KING’S MEN and THE HUSTLER.

These two actors came to the set more than totally prepared. I think I remember that they had even rehearsed together before reporting for filming. I would work with Lou again just a few months later when I brought him out to Hollywood for THE BULL ROARER, of which I have already written. I would work with Carol three years later on an episode of THE FBI.

I liked to film with two cameras whenever possible. The west coast directors of photography preferred, when using two cameras, to aim both cameras in the same direction. Jack Priestley surprised me when we did the following restaurant scene by shooting in both directions. We shot both over shoulder shots of Lou and Carol at the same time. And we filmed both their close-ups at the same time. I thought it was great for the later editing process. And in a restaurant eating scene it certainly minimized the chances of mismatched activity.

The studio where we shot the interiors for NAKED CITY wasn’t really a studio -- at least not like I had worked in on the west coast. I remember it as being a three or four story building on 3rd street in lower Manhattan. There was a large hall-like room, maybe two, in which the interior sets would be erected. The one standing set used for all the episodes was the police station.

Meanwhile two of the three ordinary guys were getting nervous.

Carmine wouldn’t go to the police. The police now came to Charlie.

I don’t remember how we ended up at these later locations in our story. Usually locations are scouted before filming begins. But obviously we couldn’t do that since we didn’t have the script.

I need to remind you that this show, like NARCISSUS ON AN OLD RED FIRE ENGINE, did not have a completed script. New pages were arriving daily. A little advantage this provided was that we shot much of the show in sequence. We had to. We shot the pages as they arrived.

But there was a major disadvantage. When we originally booked the brownstone, there was a time limit on when it would be available. After the first three or four days there was some reason we would no longer be able to go into the building. Well the new pages that were arriving kept including sequences to be filmed at the brownstone. Not only entrances and exits but some shots of Charlie in the window. Our production department was able to make the necessary arrangements so that we could continue to use the building.

TIME! That was another problem caused by the lack of a completed script. It is the normal practice for a company, when it goes to a location, to film everything at that location before moving on. To load the equipment into the trucks, move to a new location and unload took at least an hour. We returned to the brownstone house street twice as I recall. Time spent moving is time lost to filming.

There wasn’t pressure to speed up as there would have been at Universal. But since the studio knew the show was not being renewed for the next season, they did keep asking when our production office thought they would be wrapping. Their response was they would know better when they saw the rest of the script. Word came the final pages were on the way. They arrived, and I hate to admit I had to laugh. To begin with it was another return to the brownstone house street. The sheer size of the amount of work in those few pages did not foresee an optimistic quick finishing. Before I show you the rest of the show, let me show you pages from my director's script. (The pages would have been too small to read if I positioned them the way they were in my script: Camera directions to the left; script to the right. So it will be camera directions followed by the script page to which it pertains.)

And now for some action.

This show was the final catalyst that really sent me into a working career. I never saw Bert Leonard again. I met Alvin Sargent the following summer when I was working at Desilu on BREAKING POINT. Alvin was there doing a polish on one of their scripts. We spoke only briefly about COLOR SCHEMES. Alvin just shook his head, smiling. My impression was that he was saying ‘Where did that love story come from? It started out to be story about three guys involved in a crime.’ Well it came off of the pages of a very fine script.

NARCISSUS ON AN OLD RED FIRE ENGINE - March 1963 (Route 66)

Right after "...THE TRUNK", the company sent me to New York -- twice -- to direct two NAKED CITY’s, which I shall tell you about later. But for now let’s stay on the road and travel Route 66 back to Texas for a rather strange adventure -- before and behind the camera. The script was NARCISSUS ON AN OLD RED FIRE ENGINE by Joel Carpenter. Naturallly when I reported to the studio, it was still being written. Joel Carpenter, whom I never met, was not a screenplay writer. I think he was a novelist. I know that he was writing very slowly, because at a meeting with Bert Leonard and Stirling Silliphant I was told that. Because of his inexperience at writing for film, Stirling was rewriting him, but Joel didn’t know that. Stirling could have gone ahead and finished the script on his own -- that was mentioned at the meeting -- but they wanted Joel’s original input. They were waiting patiently for Joel to turn in pages, which Stirling would immediatelly rewrite; and I was leaving for Texas with fewer pages of script than when I left the last time.

I flew from LA to Houston, where under the direction of James Sheldon the company was completing filming the first show to co-star Glenn Corbett, the actor selected to replace the departing George Maharis. From Houston the company moved down to Galveston, again on the Gulf. I neglected to mention that when I directed ...THE TRUNK, it was the Gulf of Mexico that turned me into a fish eater. Coming from Iowa I thought fish was either canned salmon, canned tuna, or lox. In Corpus Christi I would buy fresh red snapper on the beach, take it back to the motel where they would prepare it for my evening meal.

Joel and Stirling had obviously been in Galveston when this story was conceived. They had found a Greek night club that became an important ingredient in the story. But that club was too small to accommodate filming. So they found another larger club, which was then turned into our Greek night club. And that was where our story begins.

Another first: filming a working factory where Tod and Linc are employed. Establish it, don’t just film the dialogue.

The following scene was scheduled for our first day of filming.

The word from Hollywood when they saw this scene was that they thought Glenn needed more ‘energy’. I wasn’t sure just what they meant by that, but I talked to Glenn and we reshot the scene -- but in a different location because we had left the Cotton Baling plant. Again they complained in Hollywood that he lacked energy. We reshot the scene for the third time, this time back at the original location. I didn’t really know at the time what they wanted. Later in hindsight I knew what the problem was. They wanted another George Maharis. Well Glenn wasn’t George Maharis. Glenn had a limited range, but within that range he was a very appealing actor.

And here we find the crux of Janie’s problem. She wants to be able to respond to love -- but she can’t.

The live locations I had shot up until now did not prepare me for shooting in a motel room. Alma’s house (in IN THE CLOSING OF A TRUNK), which had been small, was three times the size of Linc’s motel room. You will notice there is never a master shot that includes all four people. The room wasn't large enough to film it.

Linc and Tod return to the Greek club.

And now let’s talk a little more about Janie. I felt she had strong sensual desires, but she was unable to release them when relating to a man. This sensuality was evident on the dance floor. When we filmed this sequence, we used as a sound track the Nelson Riddle ROUTE 66 theme song. I’ll tell you, the music was HOT! And Janie was HOT! I thought the music they replaced it with subdued the sensuality of the scene. I don’t know if this was deliberate or not. But what is on the screen is not nearly as exciting and sexual as what we filmed.

Tod ends up in jail. And thank goodness I only had one shot to film there. The stench was unbearable.

I haven’t mentioned that we still did not have the complete script. The pages arriving from the west coast just managed to keep ahead of our shooting schedule. Anne and I had also decided that Bill was a figment of her imagination, a phantom lover.

And now the culmination of the collision of Linc’s libido and Janie’s problem. I staged the following scene between Linc and Janie on a miniature golf course with strange, exotic animal figures. When Janie said, “Who are you not to listen?” that was a challenge that Linc accepted. He embraced her, holding her tight as he nuzzled her neck, while she kept on talking about Bill. Behind them was the head of a large black whale with a white eye. It was very sexual and Daliesque, with nothing that I felt the network censorship could object to. It never got to the networks. Bert wanted it reshot, and as you will see it ended up just a lot of florid words. Now I wonder if the reason for their objection might have been, "That's not the way Maharis would play it."

A nice revealing scene. And I think director of photography Jack Marta did some exceptional work.

About the fifth or sixth day of shooting Anne came to me, all excited. She had had a chance to read the new script pages that had just arrived, which I hadn't seen yet. “Guess what! There really is a Bill. He shows up.”

The stunt double for Linc in the fight scene was not a very good likeness, especially in that first shot of him at the top of the stairs. A more experienced director would have shot it from further away.

Janie disappears. Linc goes looking for her.

I learned another first lesson on the pier. It takes less time to write an action sequence than to film it. The length of the scene on paper from the time Linc exits the amusement center through the shots of the two stunt doubles diving into the water was three eighths of a page. By my normal allotment of an hour a page that would allow about twenty-five minutes to film it. It took four and a half hours.

Both Glenn and Anne had to go into the water for the rescue part of the sequence. When we did the final scene of them on the beach, they had to be watered down before each take. We had a fire nearby and lots of blankets to keep them warm between takes. But it was COLD.

The film took ten days to shoot, which was not surprising because of the scenes that were reshot and the fact we didn’t begin filming with a completed script. No one was disturbed by this. The film was in essence a pilot, presenting a new leading man to secure a renewal of the series for another season. CBS did renew ROUTE 66 for its fourth season. But I have always felt how much finer a film could have been made if the script could have been completed and revised BEFORE photography began. Isn’t that true of any project? This script though had so much about it that was original and unique -- what a shame!

We completed filming I think on a Wednesday. The company was scheduled to leave Texas and go to Florida for another group of episodes. I was booked to direct the next episode in Florida, the start date of prep to be the following Monday. I was exhausted. I had directed four shows (two ROUTE 66’s in Texas and two NAKED CITY’s in New YORK) in about nine weeks. Factor in the travel, and I think I was entitled to be tired. I requested permission to go to Florida from Texas rather than returning to Los Angeles. I figured the three or four days of down time was necessary. For some reason or other the production office refused. I then asked to be released from the commitment to direct the next show because of fatigue. They agreed, and I returned to Los Angeles, ready to give myself a break. Catch my next posting to find out how short that break was.

Four years later Glenn Corbett guest starred in my favorite of the STAR TREK’s I directed, METAMORPHOSIS. I have been interviewed by the Star Trek History website. It is an audio interview with slides and film clips and you can view it at: http://www.startrekhistory.com/interviews.htm

RETURN TO THE TRUNK - January 1963 (Route 66)

In early September when I started this blog, there were two things I didn’t know: (1) that photographs and film clips could be included and (2) how to do it. The first was easy to take care of; the second took some excellent tutoring. And now that I’m comfortable doing it, I think I would like to go back to the first show, IN THE CLOSING OF A TRUNK, and include some film clips. If you would like to reread that first posting, it is in the Blog Archive to the right of this column. Just open SEPTEMBER and you will find it there.

I spoke early on about the advantage of a good ‘hook’ to begin a show. StIrling Silliphant certainly gave me one in this script -- in fact, more than one.

I remember the graciousness and kindness of Jack Marta to a very inexperienced director. When I staged this scene, Alma opened the door, and the trunk was on the porch. It was awkward for Todd to pull it into the room, as I directed him to do. Jack quietly suggested that I have it leaning against the door, so that it would fall into the room.

The ferry sequence was another big first for me. This was filming on a much larger scale than anything I had yet attempted. And I had never filmed such an extended sequence with so little dialogue.

The ferry was in movement for every shot. And no, those weren't star-struck sea gulls anxious to break into the movies; they were hungry birds only too willing to feed on the bread crumbs that a couple of our crew were tossing off at the front of the ferry.

Todd takes pity and offers Alma a ride. Another first for me. In Hollywood this would have been shot in process. Here we did it live, with the camera and lights mounted on the back of a truck, filming the actors in the Corvette, which was being towed.

Let me remind you of what I wrote in my original posting -- the first scene I filmed for this show on the second day was the fish house, the scene having been dictated the evening before on the telephone by the Hollywood office to our production office. The five actors only had the first twenty-three pages of the script and this scene. And you will remember this is what we filmed in the afternoon; the morning's work was lost to a camera malfunction.

I wrote extensively of the fishing sequence in my September posting. I am still amazed at the remarkable concentration of the two fine actors out in that cold, cold water. And even more astounded at the way the waves keep increasing as the intensity of the scene heats up.

Ed Begley made a career of playing characters like Kyle Hawkes. On Broadway he won a Tony for INHERIT THE WIND, and in Hollywood he won an Oscar for SWEET BIRD OF YOUTH. Off screen he was a pussy cat, a sweet, gentle man with a wonderful sense of humor

We battled the problem of the weather constantly. We would be filming inside the house, because the sky was overcast. Suddenly the sun would come out. We would finish the shot we were on and move outside immediately. The amazing thing was the crowds from Corpus Christi would have come out to our location and were lined up to watch us by the time we were ready to roll. One day a woman came rushing up to tell me, “Your filming here is the most exciting thing that has happened here since Hurricane Delilah.” (I’m not sure I’ve remembered the correct hurricane, but I do remember the woman.)

There was one shot I was going to need, shooting from inside the house out to the beach that would also require good light. One day as I was working inside the house with Martin and Ruth, the sun broke through. We hadn’t even staged the scene yet, but I asked Ruth if she could do one shot for me out of context. Here is that shot.

Then we blocked, rehearsed and filmed the full scene.

I was (then and now) terribly impressed with Don Dubbins’ work in the following scene. It was the climactic scene for his character, and he had to do it on his first day of shooting. He received the scene the night before when it was dictated over the telephone from Hollywood. As of that time he still didn’t have the full script, it wouldn’t arrive until the next day.

Don was another of that large horde of actors I speak of whose luck didn’t match their talent. He had starred with Deborah Kerr in the national company of TEA AND SYMPATHY, playing the role John Kerr had played on Broadway. After some small roles in Hollywood films (FROM HERE TO ETERNITY, THE D.I.) James Cagney took a shine to him and had him in two of his movies, TRIBUTE TO A BAD MAN and THESE WILDER YEARS. I worked with Don the first time when he starred in a Pasadena Playhouse main stage production. This was our second film together, he having guest starred in a CHECKMATE the year before.

Todd returns to Alma’s house, the trunk is delivered and the story is right back where it started. Incidentally there was no pier for Kyle and Mattie near Alma's house. That pier was way up the coast toward where the ferry was located. I wonder if I should be giving away all these trade secrets.

Ruth did something as an actress that I have never seen anyone else do. She always carried a handkerchief in which she had an ammonia capsule (smelling salts). Before each take she would break the capsule and take a couple of quick whiffs. It gave her that throaty on the verge of tears feeling, and her performance took it from there.

Jack Marta had told me that one of their trucks had a hoist on the front. He said if we laid a board flooring on the hoist, we could place a camera on it and create a camera boom. The only draw back was that it could only be used descending; when it ascended, it jerked. I planned to use the lighter Arriflex camera with its zoom lens. Since that shot would stop when Mattie got out of the car, there was not going to be any dialogue (we would be shooting MOS -- mit out sound) so the noisy Arriflex would be useable.

Once I had the complete script, I had only one MAJOR complaint. After Alma's breakdown scene there was a scene between Mattie and Kyle in the car when they pull up to the ferry. Mattie had a long, long speech explaining why he was going to leave with Alma. I felt there was no way an expository scene could top what I felt we would be achieving (and did achieve) with Alma’s breakdown. I told Bert that I thought I could do it more effectively visually without all those words. I felt a silence between Mattie and Kyle would be more revealing than any words. And then Mattie's long walk past all of the villagers, acknowledging that he was what they had called him. Bert bought it.

GRANDMA COMES HOME - 1978 (The Waltons)

At the beginning of 1978 Andy White phoned me to ask if I was available to direct an upcoming episode of THE WALTONS that was bringing Ellen Corby back to the show. She had been away for over a year after having suffered a stroke. The script was GRANDMA COMES HOME, by Rod Peterson and Claire Whitaker, who had written the powerful THE FIRESTORM, which I had directed two years previously. I agreed immediately.

This was a return to a subject I had been involved with sixteen years before on DR. KILDARE’s production of HASTINGS' FAREWELL -- aphasia. The difference was that in that production Harry Guardino had to act not being able to speak. Here Ellen, who really couldn’t speak, had to struggle to speak.

By now if should come as no surprise if I say that I had some reservations about the script. I thought the story didn’t get under way until Grandma’s arrival, and that didn’t happen until the end of Act One. And I didn't think Act One was all that exciting; in fact I'm afraid I said it was pretty dull. To be truthful I said it even more strongly than that. I envisioned an opening like the one we had in THE PONY CART, where the story started with Martha Corinne’s arrival. I admit now that I was wrong. Grandma’s return was an event, it was a theatrical entrance that needed to be set up. A fairly stormy story conference provided some needed script cuts. And I think we provided Ellen with an entrance worthy of her return.

Ellen was scheduled very carefully, spreading her work out over the span of the shooting schedule so she would not be overworked and overtired on any one day. They also allowed me to have two cameras whenever I felt I could use them to advantage, thus cutting down on the number of times she would have to play a scene. And the cast was wonderfully supportive. As you can see in the next scene with Ralph Waite, true emotion and love was rampant on the set

There were two Walton porches. The one on the exterior of the house on the back lot and a duplicate porch abutting the interior of the house on the sound stage. Scenes like this were filmed on the sound stage set. Sound and lighting were better and more efficient, and especially for a night scene like the one you just viewed.

The family really looked after Grandma. They wouldn't let her do anything except sit in her rocker.

Everyone was happy she was home.

Only Grandpa was alarmed.

And now we come to THE SCENE. In the first draft of the script, at this point in the story Grandma spelled out in some sugar that had spilled on the table the words "needs me.” That scene was very quickly replaced by a scene on the porch between Grandma and Olivia. I will admit that I was probably a pain in the you-know-where to Rod and Claire. I knew where I wanted that scene to go, and the dialogue as written didn’t let met get there. I think they redid the scene four or five times before I said, okay, this one will work. This incident may be have been the seed that gave birth to Andy White’s comment later. I was told he said, “Ralph will drive you crazy, but he cares.”

As in all of the scenes with Ellen, before the scene I would carefully talk to her and explain what the scene was going to be. She would listen intently, many times would then gesture with her hand for me to say it again. This scene I said again several times. It was filmed with two cameras, so that we could get the over shoulder and the close-up at the same time.

The assistant cameraman on the second camera was someone I had known on the STAR TREK crew. At that time he had been a grip. Now a decade later he was a first assistant cameraman. He was not a regular member of our crew; he was just in for the day. I remember after we did the first take on Ellen’s angle, he turned to me with a startled look on his face that said, “What’s going on here?”

MIchael told me that in this scene she had to keep herself from responding to Ellen’s performance. She had to play the scene technically, not organically; she knew if she allowed herself to respond to Ellen she would have been devastated.

The next day at the running of the rushes, after the first angle on Ellen had screened, there was a silence in the viewing room, and then Earl Hamner’s voice, “Senensky, you son of a bitch." Is there something wrong with me that I like being called a son of a bitch?

I’m just going to let the rest of the story tell itself.

And again we adjusted the good nights.

I was beside the camera at the foot of the bed, and just before it was time for her to speak I very carefully said “Good night everyone.”

Ellen was nominated for an Emmy for this performance. She didn’t win. How this performance came out of her in the condition she was in was truly a miracle. What she should have won was an award for a Profile in Courage.

I cannot praise Will Geer too highly. It was my understanding that he was enormously responsible for Ellen’s return to the series. I was told he hounded the producers until they finally arranged for this episode. And during the production he, even more than the rest of the cast, was giving far more than one hundred per cent. I think it shows in his performance. Willl and I had had a strange set back in our relationship on my previous production the year before. l don’t think I will be writing about THE WARRIOR. I was going to, but I found it too unpleasant an experience to revisit. In short, because Will and Ralph insisted on our casting a real Indian in a role that required a superlative actor, an exceptional script ended up as a very run of the mill film. When we finished the final shot on this film, I shot a promotional of Will talking about Ellen’s return. As we finished that we said our goodbyes. I hugged Will and thanked him. He, with a twinkle in his eye, said, “So you've finally forgiven me.” And I, with a twinkle in my eye, said, “Not entirely, Will, not entirely.” Those were our final words to each other. Will died a few months later.

THE PONY CART - 1976 (The Waltons)

In the fall of 1976, I was on the back lot of Warner Bros. studio on the front lawn of the Walton house. It was the first day of filming THE PONY CART, a new episode of THE WALTONS. A small figure in a long dress wearing a poke bonnet came around the corner of the house and waved to me.

Two years earlier at the time I completed filming THE CONFLICT, I purchased my first VCR machine; and when the show aired, I taped it. During the following two years, I saw much of Beulah Bondi socially. She came to my house. I went to hers. And I remember that when I was with her personally, I could not see any trace of Martha Corinne. I would watch the tape of the show, and the actress and Martha Corinne were so different, I couldn’t see anything of the Beulah I had come to know.

Now on the back lot the small figure in the poke bonnet came rushing across the lawn, a big smile on her face, to greet me. And I smiled right back. It was Martha Corinne. And we greeted each other as two people would who had not seen each other in two years. I swear, that’s the way it happened.

Ten days earlier I had taken Beulah to lunch one day, and then we went to the studio. Beulah was scheduled to go to the Warner wardrobe department to select her costuming for the new production. And then she requested a screening of the second hour of THE CONFLICT. After the screening I asked her what she thought. Her answer: “Very interesting lady. I hope I can get her back.”

When I returned her to her home, I asked, half-jokingly, “Well Beulah, have you learned all of your lines.?”

She replied, “Not yet. I’ll have them by Thursday. Then my work will begin.”

She did have a few requests for minor dialogue changes, which I made note of and took to Earl. Amazingly I had no script changes to ask for.

The story was very simple. Martha Corinne showed up at the Walton home for a visit.

This was a very interesting project for me and different from anything I had done before. It was truly a one-woman show. Martha Corinne did not share scenes. She took over. The scene in which she doled out the gifts was a good example. She was the engine that not only drove the scene, she was the engine that WAS the scene.

Dining table scenes at the Walton’s always presented a minor problem. Because of the number of people involved around the table, because of the youth of more than half of them, and because of the familial exuberance they felt for each other -- it was difficult to get a quiet run-through of a scene until camera rolled for take one. During a break when they were lighting another set-up, Beulah and I were seated on the sofa in the living room. Beulah looked at me with a wry smile and quietly said, “It’s not like the old days.”

Will Geer came from a far different school of acting than Beulah. I was very amused the day we did the following scene between Beulah and Will. As she came into the shed and tapped him on the shoulder, Will spun around with such energy and velocity that Beulah stopped in her tracks and then turned and stared at me, with a look that said, “What are you going to do about this?” By the time camera rolled, Will, as always, had his performance pulled back into the realm of reality.

In THE CONFLICT Martha Corinne’s dominance and forcefulness was easily explained -- she was a victim and was fighting back. That same take-over personality as a guest in the Walton home could very easily turn obnoxious and unpleasant. And for most of the family it did. But you don’t want the audience to react to her as the family did. Watch how Beulah navigated those treacherous waters.

As John Springer wrote of her in his book, THEY HAD FACES THEN, "...she was so real, she was frightening.” But she also was not without humor.

I heard rumored at the time that Michael Learned had an arrangement with the writers that if she didn’t have dialogue in a scene, she was not to be included. I sympathize with actors in supporting roles in series who are not always used to best advantage, who are just wasted. (i.e. Joan Blondell in BANYON, Burgess Meredith in SEARCH, Phil Abbott in THE FBI). What I think Michael didn’t appreciate was the power of her presence in a scene.

The night THE PONY CART aired, Beulah had a small dinner party for friends, who would then watch the show with her, Mary Jackson (one of the Baldwin sisters), Amzie Strickland and some others. I was invited but could not attend because I was finishing filming an episode of FAMILY. I was told that during the ‘planting’ scene you just viewed, Beulah exclaimed, “She’s stealing the scene!” Mary Jackson reassured her, “No she’s not stealing the scene, Beulah.”

Irony of ironies, that year when Beulah won an Emmy for this performance, Gary Frank won an Emmy for his continuing role in FAMILY. The episode he submitted to the Academy was the one we were filming the night THE PONY CART aired.

Ed Graves (art director) and I scouted the locations in Frazier Park for this production. It was far simpler than it had been for THE CONFLICT. We only needed two sites -- the place where the home had stood and the grave yard. And it would only be for one day, no overnight. Only Beulah and Richard would be performing. As we started back, Ed spotted a rattle snake in the middle of the road. I don’t think I had ever seen a rattle snake before, and no, we didn’t get out of the car to look at it. Ed rode over it, crushing it beneath the tires, as he maneuvered the car back and forth, back and forth. We then went to the ranger station to report the location of the remains.

The magic of the editing room. There was the first part of this scene, when Martha Corinne and John-Boy moved away from the car, that we wanted to cut. It was where Martha Corinne pointed her staff at a log. The cut was made to a close-up of a second log she pointed to. That shot then tilted up to a close-up of Martha Corinne. The problem was we had 'crossed the line.' Martha Corinne in this close-up was looking camera left, when in the master shot she was looking camera right. So Gene Fowler flopped the film. But Richard’s matching reaction couldn’t be flopped because the part in his hair would give it away. Easy solution. Just use one of the close-ups of Richard when his look was in the correct direction. Do I have you sufficiently confused so we can move on?

The small creek where John-Boy gets water in the rusty can was not filmed in Frazier Park. It was shot on the back lot of Warner Bros. studio. And I vaguely remember that Richard had a sprained ankle when we filmed this sequence. No major production problems here, so just sit back and appreciate two consummate performers at their peak.

“I hate to be as stubborn as you are.” A favorite line. Beulah and I were both Tauruses. I remember when we went to see Baryshnikov at the Hollywood Bowl, Beulah insisted on paying for the parking, and I insisted she shouldn’t. That line was said that night, I just don’t remember who said it.

Martha Corinne returns to the Walton home with John-Boy. Grandma is unhappy, until Olivia finally gets John-Boy to explain the real reason for the return.

And so Martha Corinne helps Ben finish his pony cart, including painting it for him.

The location for the field of daisies presented a challenge. Our only filming off the lot was Frazier Park, and with the ninety mile commute to and from, even if we could have found a place to film, lack of time would have prevented it. So Ed Graves, the art director, had to create it on the Warner Bros. back lot. There were no fields of daisies back there. Unlike MGM’s back lot, there were no fields. It was all wooded areas and dirt roads. So Ed found a place where there was a fork in the dirt road. Where the fork led off to the right would be the path for the pony cart. Where the fork led off to the left, he created our field of daisies.

And again I was allowed to alter the usual “Good Night” ending.

Beulah the night she won the Emmy.

It came with the picture

Beulah told me of her two great professional disappointments. The first was when she was cast as Aunt Polly in David Selznick’s production of TOM SAWYER, and then was replaced by May Robson. But the bigger disappointment was when in 1939 she was contacted by 20th Century Fox Studios and asked to do a screen test. By this time in her career, Beulah did not do screen tests. She had been in Hollywood since 1931 and had had two Academy Award nominations. But this was a request from John Ford. He would be directing the test, and Beulah was assured she was the only person being tested. The role was Ma Joad in THE GRAPES OF WRATH. Beulah agreed to do the test. The script for the test was sent to her, and after she read it, she called the studio to request a delay of a week before testing. They agreed. Beulah had a plan. She dug into her personal wardrobe to put together a suitable costume. She told me she went into her yard and dug her hands into the ground to get dirt under her finger nails. She called a friend, who agreed to drive her on her little expedition. They traveled to northern California, where Beulah ’visited’ the Okie camps, camps that were set up to accommodate the vast number of people from Oklahoma arriving in California, the source for the material in John Steinbeck’s acclaimed novel. I asked Beulah whether she was ever recognized; after all by this time she was a screen celebrity. She said only once, and she made a hasty retreat. She visited several camps, and then returned to Los Angeles to prepare, as only Beulah prepared, for her screen test. The day of the test arrived, and Beulah reported to the studio, where Mr. Ford directed the several scenes. As she was leaving, the actor who had appeared with her in the test, in saying goodbye said, “Miss Bondi, I know my opinion doesn’t mean anything, I’m just a contract player here at the studio, but I just want you to know that I think you’re the best of all the actresses who have tested for this role.” Beulah said that she knew then she would not play Ma Joad, that it woud probably be portrayed by an actress under contract to the studio.

A loss of a role for the actress. A greater loss to film art of what would have been a legendary performance by a true screen immortal.

THE CONFLICT - 1974 (The Waltons)

My first contact with Beulah Bondi was in 1957. I had directed a production of Andre Gide’s THE IMMORALIST at the Horseshoe Stage, a ninety-nine seat theatre in Hollywood. My leading lady was Rachel Ames, daughter of the legendary character actress, Dorothy Adams. Doro, as I came to know her, brought Beulah Bondi to see the production. I didn’t get to meet Bondi then, but I asked Doro if it would be possible for me to speak to her on the telephone. Doro made the arrangements, and I phoned Miss Bondi. That conversation was the first time I heard her mantra: acting is BEING, not SEEMING.

The beginning of the 1974-75 season saw me returning to THE WALTONS to do a two hour epic -- a story of Martha Corinne, Grandpa’s elderly sister-in-law, a mountain lady who with her family was being evicted from her property to make way for a big highway. It would be very Hollywood to say that I remembered her kindness in talking to me that time long ago. But that was not the way it was. What I really remembered was the impressive mountain lady, mother of Henry Fonda, in the first outdoor Technicolor production, THE TRAIL OF THE LONESOME PINE, produced in 1936. Once her name was suggested, it was just a matter of the casting director making the deal.

For the role of Wade, Martha Corinne’s grandson, we did a lot of auditioning. NIck Nolte impressed us enough that I went to see him in a production of PICNIC at one of Hollywood’s small theatres. But the following day Richard Hatch came in to audition. Richard gave a dynamic reading. I remember that he didn’t just sit and read. He moved all over the office. After he left Bob Jacks looked at me and said, “That’s it!” I couldn’t have agreed more

As I’ve written before, it was the custom to hold a cast reading of the script before filming began. But it was decided to hold the reading at six in the evening, at the end of the filming day. It was too long a script to squeeze into the usual lunch hour period. Bob Jacks and I discussed the possibility of including Beulah in that reading. However, to book her for the reading would have meant her salary would start on that day. So I was assigned the task of telling her of the reading, and welcoming her if she would like to attend. She accepted most graciously.

The scheduled evening arrived, and I went to Bob’s office, where a very large tray from the local Jewish delicatessen (owned and operated by Chinese) was spread out on a coffee table. I was greeted with the news from Bob that the reading was being postponed because of conflicts in Will’s, Michael’s and Ralph Waite’s schedules. Only Richard and Ellen were available. This had been such a last minute decision that Beulah Bondi had not been told. She was on her way to the studio as we spoke. All of the others would be coming to the office from the set before leaving for their respective appointments. Were you ever in a situation where you just wanted to wake up and find out it was all a nightmare? But as everyone started arriving, I knew the nightmare had to play itself out. Introductions were made; this was after all my first physical meeting with Miss Bondi. “Beulah,” she said. She was to be addressed as Beulah. (The giant mountain woman of TRAIL OF THE LONESOME PINE was barely five feet tall.) Will and Beulah of course knew each other. And as we sat around, Bob explained to Beulah the circumstances, and the fact that the reading would be postponed. Will interjected that his conflict that evening was the opening at the Hartford Theatre of a play starring Henry Fonda. Beulah answered, yes she knew about that. She had tickets for the opening, but she thought the reading was more important. You could have heard a marshmallow drop on thick carpet.

Later Will encouraged Beulah to tell us about Beulah Bondi’s summer gesture. It was in 1929 that Beulah was in the cast of Elmer Rice’s STREET SCENE. Because it was a somber drama with a large cast and heavy sets, it did not have the budget to allow for a pre-Broadway tryout tour. It was opening cold in New York, with just four or five preview performances. Beulah had worked out a piece of business, which she said she would have used if they had had an out of town tour. But she decided she would not use it in the preview performances. So on opening night Beulah’s character was seated on the steps of a New York brownstone tenement. It was hot and she had a folded up newspaper which she used to fan herself -- face, neck, under her arms, all the while carrying on a conversation with a character leaning out of one of the building’s windows. At one point she was to stand and turn upstage to look up at the woman in the window. As she rose and turned, she reached behind and pulled at her skirt and her underwear beneath it. You see the gesture? Beulah said as she did that, she heard this roar of laughter from the theatre. And it went on and on and on. It stopped the show. Beulah said she stood there frozen, figuring she would be fired and had ended her Broadway career before it had gotten started. After the show, expecting the worst, she saw Elmer Rice, the show’s director, when he came backstage to her dressing room. He told Beulah to keep the business in her performance. STREET SCENE was the show that brought Beulah to Hollywood in Samuel Goldwyn’s 1931 production, directed by King Vidor. The summer gesture stayed on in the movie. But Beulah was not happy with the way Mr. Vidor handled it. He had a low angle close-up of her 'summer gesture'.

THE CONFLICT, being a two hour show, should have had a thirteen day shooting schedule. It was scheduled to start on a Friday. The following week we were to film on location in Frazier Park, an area ninety miles north of Los Angeles. Location shooting allowed for a six day week. Then we would return to the studio to complete photography. But there was not going to be time enough for six more days. All filming in Holllywood was scheduling for the possibility of an industry strike; I forget whether it was writers or actors. So in that eventuality I had to finish on Friday -- my twelfth day. But one more snag hit the fan. The production filming ahead of me was running behind. It also had to be finished before the possible strike. I ended up beginning my show at 2:00pm on Friday, which meant I had to complete this epic in eleven and a half days.

Soon after we commenced filming, Beulah told me there was a book coming out soon dedicated to her. The book was THEY HAD FACES THEN by John Springer.

It is a magnificent book that includes mini bios of every actress who had an English speaking role in any film released in the 1930’s.

John Springer wrote in this book: “When you are speaking of the most moving movie scenes of all times, certainly you’re going to choose several from Leo McCarey’s MAKE WAY FOR TOMORROW. There’s the heartbreaking final moment when the old man is going away and the old lady is at the train station to see him off. He doesn’t know -- but she does, and you do -- that they will never see each other again. ...There is the absolutely devastating scene when the old lady gets a telephone call from her husband so many miles away -- and pours out her love and loneliness to him, oblivious of the annoyed, then ashamed, then strangely touched guests at a card party in the room where she is on the phone. Try to see that without choking up.

“I yield to no one in admiration for Victor Moore, but the person who tore you apart at all of those moments was the beloved Beulah Bondi, surely the mosts versatile character actress on all levels the movies have known. She wasn’t one of those darling lavender-and-old-lace ladies. Her Lucy Cooper in MAKE WAY FOR TOMORROW could be a cranky, cantankerous old girl. But she was so real, she was frightening. Academy Oscars ceased to have their full value the year she did not get a nomination for MAKE WAY FOR TOMORROW.”

I today have Beulah's copy of Springer's book with the following inscription:

On location there was a long, long trailer called a honey wagon with several small dressing rooms for the stars. At the end of our first day of shooting, as we prepared to drive back to the motel where we were staying (about twenty miles), Beulah told me she had left her script in her dressing room. I immediately became concerned with getting it before the honey wagon left. Beulah then assured me it was no great catastrophe; she knew her scenes for the next day. What I finally learned was Beulah knew all of her scenes for the entire picture.

Now to get on with the show. The Waltons get word that Grandpa’s sister-in-law and her family are in trouble. They are to be evicted from their property to make way for a big highway. They load into their truck and head for the mountains. If you notice little Elizabeth getting one of the few close-ups in the scene, it was because she was ill the day we filmed it. If you pay strict attention, you will see that she is missing in the master shot when everyone gets out of the truck. We picked up her shot after she recovered.

The morning we prepared to shoot the sequence with Martha Corinne’s feisty pigs, Judy (Mary Ellen) informed me that her character wouldn’t behave as written; she wouldn't run away and climb a tree. Bob Jacks was available, and Mary Ellen suddenly saw the light.

Beulah told me about her experience on the movie, THE SNAKE PIT, starring Olivia de Havilland and directed by Anatole Litvak. The movie was well into production by the time she reported to the studio. She was greeted with dire reports from other character actresses who had been working. They told her that Litvak was impossible, overly demanding; nothing any of them did seemed to please him. Beulah responded she couldn’t understand that; she had worked for ‘Toley’ before (THE SISTERS with Bette Davis at Warner Bros.), and she had never had any problem with him. She was warned, just wait, you’ll see. So came time for Beulah’s first scene. She reported to the set in make-up and costume, was greeted by Mr. Litvak, did a brief rehearsal and then prepared to film. Camera rolled, action was called, and Beulah did her scene. Litvak called “Cut, let’s do it again, please.” The warning actresses on the side lines gave Beulah nods of the head that said, “See, what did we telll you?” Beulah did take 2. Again “Cut, let’s do it again please.” More nodding heads and smirks. Take 3. Take 4. Take 5 and finally “Cut, Print.”

Beulah, never a shy one (she was a Taurus) went up to Litvak. “Toley, may I ask you a question?”

Litvak: Of course, Beulah. What is it?

Beulah: You never said, so what was wrong with those earlier takes?

Litvak: Nothing, Beulah. I just like to watch you act.

Let’s watch Beulah act as Martha Corinne has returned to the Walton home and talks to the family about the past.

And the next morning Martha Corinne was taken to inspect what could be her new home. At one point the script said Martha Corinne turns a light switch on and off. See what Bondi makes of that little direction.

Saturday, the sixth day on location in Frazier Park found me with a ton of work to complete. And it had to be completed that day. Frazier Park was too far from the studio to return to. And the last two sequences were locations that couldn’t be duplicated in the Los Angeles area. We finished filming around Martha Corinne’s home by about 3:00 pm. The final location was a distance away, an area I had selected because of its openness. The move (as usual) took about an hour. We arrived at the area by about 4:00 pm, and I had to do some fast revising. There were about five pages left to film, really about a half day’s work. The first sequence was between John-Boy and Wade. I retained my planned staging, but I eliminated a lot of the coverage. And you know what? I liked what I filmed better than what I had planned.

Russell Metty was my salvation. Because of the remoteness of the location he could not bring in arc lights. He had to light only with reflectors. And in the scene between John-Boy and Grandpa, we filmed with two cameras. To complete the professionalism the four actors, and especially Richard and Will in their long dualogue, turned in fine one-take performances. We filmed a half days work in just about three hours. We were returning to Los Angeles with our full six day’s of location filming completed.

We resorted to using stock footage for a short sequence showing big bulldozers at work on the encroaching highway. I recognized a couple of the shots, because I had filmed them myself three years earlier for an episode of THE FBI. That episode, GAME OF TERROR, had guest starred Richard Thomas.

Martha Corinne returns to her mountain home and takes charge of defending her property.

In planning my coverage to show the various family members during the time of waiting and preparing, I had Martha Corinne seated on her porch. But one day filming an earllier sequence I saw where Beulah was sitting, waiting for her next scene. That’s where I filmed Beulah for the opening shot of this sequence.

Beulah was 85 years old when we filmed this production.

Carol McKeand voiced an objection to John Boy’s taking the rifle. Richard and I felt John-Boy would be emotionally drawn into the family situation, and it made what followed even more effective.

But first, another “I like to watch her act”.

The man who fell out of the marshall’s truck -- that was an accident, it wasn’t planned. But since it did (luckily) happen, I added the extra shot of him scurrying for cover. It added to the excitement.

Richard wanted his being shot to look like he was shot by a rifle. No crumbling to the ground for him, so we attached a strong wire to him from behind. When he was fired at, the wire was strongly yanked back, pulling him off balance into a fall.

When I received the original script, I had only one major objection. In that earlier version Martha Corinne got to stay on in her home. I went to Earl Hamner with my thoughts. Number one it wouldn’t have happened that way. But more importantly I thought we were missing an opportunity for a more dramatic close to our story. So Earl rewrote our final scene. I contributed this bit of information to his book, GOODNIGHT JOHN-BOY, but with his usual modesty he eliminated the fact that he wrote the closing scene. But Earl, you can’t edit my blog. You wrote it superbly and poetically. It was a joy to film.

When I read the closing voice-overs for the final exterior shot of the Walton house that always ends the show, I went to Bob Jacks with a request that I be allowed to alter their usual ending. I told him what I wanted to to, and he gave it his okay.