She’d co-starred in two films with Spencer Tracy: Father of the Bride and Father’s Little Dividend, and was high on our wish-list of interviews for our profile of him.
Her press agent replied to our letter. “She’s interested. When do you need her?” We explained that we’d be in Los Angeles for two weeks in December, and had a chocker-block schedule, but would like to give her preference.
“What days would be best for her?”
“I’ll get back to you,” was the response.
Not a bad start.
JK Soon after, I received a message to call Roger Wall, Elizabeth Taylor’s personal assistant, who worked from an office in her home.
He said, “She definitely wants to do this, but she’s put her back out. So right now, she has to stay in bed. Call me when you get to Los Angeles, and we’ll take it from there.”
That was all rather inconclusive and not at all helpful in trying to prepare a shooting schedule. We had to confirm dates and times for Angela Lansbury, Richard Widmark, Robert Wagner, Lee Marvin, and Mickey Rooney, among others, or run the risk of losing them. Our days were filling up quickly and our crew budget was already stretched to the limit.
Once we arrived in LA, I called Roger. He said, “She’s still suffering with her back. Call me tomorrow.”
I said, “Roger, please understand that we’re on a tight schedule and budget, so if Ms. Taylor is feeling better tomorrow, we can’t just come over and do the interview; we’ll need some notice. Do you think maybe we should plan to do it the day after tomorrow?”
“We can aim for that, but I can’t promise,” he said. “I’ll give you an update tomorrow. And here’s my home number in case you miss me at work.”
It was encouraging, but disconcerting at the same time. There was a sort-of commitment, but it was flimsy at best.
The next day, during a break in shooting, I called Roger again. A housekeeper named Liz answered. “He’s not in. Can you call back in an hour?”
JK and DH It was a similar routine every day of the first week and into the second. By then, Katharine Hepburn had arrived in Los Angeles for the filming of her host sequences. We told her of our daily pursuit of Elizabeth Taylor, and that we were running out of time. Our plan had been to leave LA on Friday of that week, but to give ourselves an extra day, we changed our flight to Saturday.
And then we had an idea. We suggested to Hepburn that she send flowers to Elizabeth with a note. Kate agreed, but said, “You arrange for the flowers and here’s what the note should say: “Dear Elizabeth, Sorry you’re having trouble with your back. Spencer’s daughter, Susie, and I are so pleased that you have agreed to do an interview for the program we’re doing about him. Fondly, Kate.”
JK The phone rang the next day. It was Roger.
“Elizabeth received some beautiful flowers and a note from Katharine Hepburn and would like to call her. Can you give me the number?”
“I’ll have to get back to you because she’s staying in someone’s home and I don’t have the number yet,” I told him.
Hepburn said, “No, no. I’d rather call her. And if she asks me to appear at one of her benefit fundraisers, I’ll strangle the two of you.” Kate told us later, “Elizabeth is sweet. But she sounds like a little girl. It was obviously such a thrill for her to hear from me. Call her tomorrow. I think she’s ready to set a date.”
The next morning Roger confirmed it. “I think she might be ready to do it later today. Will that work for you?”
“Yes, we have a crew on hold and can be there around 4. But we do need to give them a definite call time. When will you know for sure?”
“In a couple of hours.” By then it was already noon.
Two hours later: “Elizabeth would rather do it tomorrow about 5 in the afternoon. Can you be here at 4 for set-up?”
I said, “Roger, tomorrow is Friday. We’ve spoken every day for the past two weeks and I appreciate all your efforts. But we’re leaving LA on Saturday. Is this for real?”
I was only half-surprised to hear: “I think so, but let’s confirm tomorrow morning.”
We booked the crew and crossed our fingers.
Friday morning’s call was predictable: “Elizabeth would like one more day. She promises she’ll do it tomorrow.”
I said, “Roger, we have a crew available today. And as I told you, we have to fly back to New York tomorrow. So this is our last chance. Can you please push her to do it this afternoon? Otherwise, we’re out of luck.” It was an ultimatum, but this routine had to end and it was time to say, “Now or never.” We banked on her not wanting to disappoint Katharine Hepburn. And we were right.
Roger called back within minutes. “Okay, come at 4 for a 5 o’clock shoot.” And he gave us directions to the house.
DH The housekeeper, Liz, let us in and took us to the living room. I’d expected a fluffy, touch-me-not kind of house. It wasn’t. It looked very comfortable and lived-in. The furniture was white, with overstuffed chairs and pillows, and there were some impressive pieces of art. Family photos were everywhere, and Liz showed us the kitchen, which had on the refrigerator a photo of Elizabeth at her heaviest weight.
“She keeps it there as a reminder,” she explained.
JK There were pictures of Richard Burton, but none of her other husbands. Liz told me that Elizabeth’s grandchildren are frequent visitors and the public would be amused to see them rough-housing with their grandmother, smudging chocolate on her face.
The clock ticked away. We knew her makeup artist and hairdresser were upstairs with her. They were both superstars in their fields, and each charged $1,500 a day. We’d already said politely that we didn’t have that kind of money in our budget and would appreciate some relief. In the end, we never got any invoices. She obviously paid them herself.
DH Roger had gone upstairs to speak with Elizabeth and when he came down, he said she would like to ask a favor. Since she’ll already be on camera, she wondered if I’d mind shooting a Public Service Announcement she’d promised to do on behalf of AIDS research. I said I’d be happy to do it. He made a call to get the script sent by messenger.
It was now 6 pm. Jose Eber, her hairdresser, came down and told us she was now getting made up.
7 pm: No sign of her.
8 pm: We were still waiting.
9 pm: Elizabeth Taylor came downstairs.
Her entrance was breathtaking; it felt like a scene from a movie. She was dazzling. Her eyes were indeed violet, and she was wearing a dark purple blouse that offset them perfectly. We were all surprised to see how short she was; she appeared to be no taller than five feet.
JK and DH The messenger with the AIDS copy never arrived, which was a shame.
But Elizabeth was eager to talk about Spencer Tracy, and she was still full of admiration for him. It was worth waiting all those days—plus an extra four hours.
She recalled that in the films they made together, in which she played his daughter, Tracy called her “Kitten” and she called him “Pops.”
“And we kept those names until the day he died,” she said. “If I was ever in trouble—or happy times—he would sense that I needed his big bear-like arms around me, and he would send me the most wonderful telegrams: always ‘to Kitten,’ and always signed ‘Pops.’”
When we told Katharine Hepburn about that story, she said, “Hmph. ‘Pops and Kitten.’ Who do you think sent those telegrams?”
Elizabeth Taylor during interview for The Spencer Tracy Legacy: A Tribute by Katharine Hepburn.
Bel Air, CA, 1985. Authors’ collection.
Cinematographer John Sharaf, David Heeley, Mary Bell Painten, and Joan Kramer with Katharine Hepburn and Susie Tracy preparing to shoot items from Spencer Tracy’s scrapbooks.
Los Angeles, CA, 1985. Photograph by John Bryson, courtesy Bryson Photo.
