the singing the night be fore and I drove Betty home because she was so angry with Bogie’s cracks about Frankie’s singing. At that time Frankie was out of work and was peculiarly vulnerable and Bogie was unnecessarily cruel.”
Several people have mentioned the fact that Bogie some times went too far with his needling, and sometimes hurt people with his cutting remarks. But it was not out of mean ness. Sometimes he just got carried away with his own cuteness and misjudged his target. Not everybody has thick skin, and even those who do sometimes shed it in moments of weakness. But I think if Dad pushed Frank Sinatra too hard at this particular time, it was probably because he felt that Sinatra was not being the person he could be, either person ally or professionally. Bogie and Sinatra had a kind of father- son relationship, and Dad had often gotten on Sinatra for not taking his acting seriously enough. I think Dad saw Sinatra as a great talent that sometimes was wasted. My father had a philosophy about this, and it came from a valuable lesson he had learned years earlier in a pro ducer’s office.
Bogie had come into the producer’s office while the pro ducer was talking to a writer about his script. The producer told the writer that his script had some merit, that there were many good things in it, despite its shortcomings. After the writer left, the producer told Bogie that the script was lousy. Bogie asked him why he hadn’t just said so. The producer told Bogie, “When you see that a person has done his best and it’s no good, you cannot be cruel. If you know he can do better, then you say it stinks and he should fix it. But when you know this is his best, then be gentle.”
I think that Bogie might have been telling Sinatra that if his life stinks he should fix it. I think that if Bogie felt Sinatra had really been doing his best, Bogie would have been gentle.
Though Bogie had some close actor friends, like Niven, Tracy, Burton, Sinatra, Peter Lorre, and Raymond Massey, most of Bogie’s friends were writers: Nunnally Johnson, Louis Bromfield, Nathaniel Benchley, and even Huston, who started out as a screenwriter. He surrounded himself with writers because he admired them and he understood that without them, he would have no words to speak as an ac tor. Another reason he hung around with few actors was that he didn’t have much respect for what he called “Holly wood types.”
The trouble with many of them was that they had small vocabularies, he said. “They get my goat,” he said. Of course, Dad’s goat was easily gotten. “They get up there like stoops and say, ‘Gosh, it’s wonderful to be here. It’s a wonderful night and I hear this is a wonderful picture. I know Willie Wyler did a wonderful job and I’m looking forward to a won derful evening.’ The word wonderful should be outlawed.”
From the viewpoint of the Hollywood establishment, my father was widely regarded as a social misfit, and I think he liked it that way. He didn’t go to premieres. In fact, he didn’t go to see his own pictures.
“I am not socially acceptable,” he said. “People are afraid to invite me to their homes. They’re afraid that I will say something to Darryl Zanuck or Louis B. Mayer, which, of course, I will. I don’t really fit in with the Hollywood crowd. Why can’t you be yourself, do your job, be your role at the studio and yourself at home, and not have to belong to the glitter-and-glamor group? Actors are always publicized as hav ing a beautiful courtesy. I haven’t. I’m the most impolite per son in the world. It’s thoughtlessness. If I start to be polite you can hear it for forty miles. I never think to light a lady’s cigarette. Sometimes I rise when a lady leaves the room. If I open a door for a lady, my arm always gets in the way so that she either has to duck under or get hit in the nose. It’s an effort for me to do things people believe should be done. I don’t see why I should
Several people have mentioned the fact that Bogie some times went too far with his needling, and sometimes hurt people with his cutting remarks. But it was not out of mean ness. Sometimes he just got carried away with his own cuteness and misjudged his target. Not everybody has thick skin, and even those who do sometimes shed it in moments of weakness. But I think if Dad pushed Frank Sinatra too hard at this particular time, it was probably because he felt that Sinatra was not being the person he could be, either person ally or professionally. Bogie and Sinatra had a kind of father- son relationship, and Dad had often gotten on Sinatra for not taking his acting seriously enough. I think Dad saw Sinatra as a great talent that sometimes was wasted. My father had a philosophy about this, and it came from a valuable lesson he had learned years earlier in a pro ducer’s office.
Bogie had come into the producer’s office while the pro ducer was talking to a writer about his script. The producer told the writer that his script had some merit, that there were many good things in it, despite its shortcomings. After the writer left, the producer told Bogie that the script was lousy. Bogie asked him why he hadn’t just said so. The producer told Bogie, “When you see that a person has done his best and it’s no good, you cannot be cruel. If you know he can do better, then you say it stinks and he should fix it. But when you know this is his best, then be gentle.”
I think that Bogie might have been telling Sinatra that if his life stinks he should fix it. I think that if Bogie felt Sinatra had really been doing his best, Bogie would have been gentle.
Though Bogie had some close actor friends, like Niven, Tracy, Burton, Sinatra, Peter Lorre, and Raymond Massey, most of Bogie’s friends were writers: Nunnally Johnson, Louis Bromfield, Nathaniel Benchley, and even Huston, who started out as a screenwriter. He surrounded himself with writers because he admired them and he understood that without them, he would have no words to speak as an ac tor. Another reason he hung around with few actors was that he didn’t have much respect for what he called “Holly wood types.”
The trouble with many of them was that they had small vocabularies, he said. “They get my goat,” he said. Of course, Dad’s goat was easily gotten. “They get up there like stoops and say, ‘Gosh, it’s wonderful to be here. It’s a wonderful night and I hear this is a wonderful picture. I know Willie Wyler did a wonderful job and I’m looking forward to a won derful evening.’ The word wonderful should be outlawed.”
From the viewpoint of the Hollywood establishment, my father was widely regarded as a social misfit, and I think he liked it that way. He didn’t go to premieres. In fact, he didn’t go to see his own pictures.
“I am not socially acceptable,” he said. “People are afraid to invite me to their homes. They’re afraid that I will say something to Darryl Zanuck or Louis B. Mayer, which, of course, I will. I don’t really fit in with the Hollywood crowd. Why can’t you be yourself, do your job, be your role at the studio and yourself at home, and not have to belong to the glitter-and-glamor group? Actors are always publicized as hav ing a beautiful courtesy. I haven’t. I’m the most impolite per son in the world. It’s thoughtlessness. If I start to be polite you can hear it for forty miles. I never think to light a lady’s cigarette. Sometimes I rise when a lady leaves the room. If I open a door for a lady, my arm always gets in the way so that she either has to duck under or get hit in the nose. It’s an effort for me to do things people believe should be done. I don’t see why I should
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