as published in Scarlet Street, 1998, issue #27
Fay Wray just might be the one name that almost any living person on the
planet would recognize. Young or old, film fan or
no
t - it doesn't
matter. She was immortalized on a sound-stage at RKO when a tall, hairy ape
reached down and picked her up. She made a total of 80 films and became even
more famous in the 50's and 60's when some of those films (KING KONG, THE
MOST DANGEROUS GAME, DOCTOR X and THE MYSTERY OF THE WAX MUSEUM) were
rediscovered by an entire new generation thanks to the then new medium of
television.
In the 70's there was THE ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW with the famous lyric "What ever happened to Fay Wray?" What ever happened to her? A lot. There is a night devoted to her on April 29th at 7 PM at the Smithsonian Institute when they fete her and show a new print of KING KONG in a series that includes evenings devoted to Kenneth Branagh, George Lucas, Liv Ullman, Derek Jacobi and Roger Ebert. I had also been very impressed recently by the story in the New York Times about her going before Congress to speak about writers and residuals in Hollywood. One congressman said: "The last time we had someone from Hollywood here it was Melanie Griffith and she fell asleep. It is nice to have a young starlet as beautiful and charming as you who actually stays awake!" There was a picture of Ms. Wray, looking vibrantly alive and still beautiful. I knew that this was someone that I wanted to know and I was delighted when Richard Valley asked me to interview her for Scarlet Street.
Reaching her was not quite as easy. After many inquiries I was happy to find that a good friend had worked for years for her son Robert Riskin, Jr who owns and runs the legendary L.A. music store "McCabes." E-mails between her son and I transpired and I was beginning to wonder if the interview would ever happen. But, then one day when I was busy writing I heard my answering machine pick up a call that I was sure was a joke at first: "Hello?! I am calling by way of my son Bob … my name is Fay and he said that I should call you. Hello?" Needless to say I picked up. She invited me to see her speak at the Museum of Modern Art at a tribute to her late husband, screenwriter Robert Riskin, who had written IT HAPPENED ONE NIGHT, MR. SMITH GOES TO WASHINGTON, MR. DEEDS GOES TO TOWN, PLATINUM BLONDE, LOST HORIZON, MEET JOHN DOE and many more.
When I first saw Fay Wray walk onto the stage at MOMA I was surprised. It was impossible to believe that this woman had starred in the silent film THE WEDDING MARCH. It seemed chronologically impossible. She was beautiful, elegant, witty and completely won the audience over. At the end of the tribute I waited till most people were gone and introduced myself. She was delightful and promised we would do the interview soon. I was still glowing as I went up the escalator, and hardly noticed there was a crowd waiting behind a rope for the museum's next event. When I reached the top I realized that the first person behind the rope was Mayor Ed Koch. He looked at me and said "What is going on down there? Why are we all waiting?" I couldn't think of anything to say except "Fay Wray is down there!" "Fay Wray," he asked? "You mean The Fay Wray?" "The one and only," I told him. "Just wait here and she will be coming up any second. You might miss her if you go down as she comes up."
"Well, fine then," he said. "Her I have to meet!" Just then the rope was taken away and the crowd began going down. Soon the whole group was down the escalator except the former mayor. "You sure she is coming up," he asked. "Oh yes, any second," I reassured him. Just then I saw the elevator door open 10 yards away. A small crowd was hustling her out the door. "Miss Wray!" I called her name but saw a sedan door opening. As I got to the street I saw a hand wave. "Good-bye Rick McKay - see you soon!" As the car pulled away I saw Mayor Koch huff and start down the escalator. "Maybe next time," he called with a roll of the eyes and a smile. I hoped the interview would go better than my introductions.
I soon had an appointment set up with Ms. Wray for dinner and the theater. I had recently interviewed the composer of the Broadway show TITANIC and the press agent had asked me to see the show. I could not think of a better date to see it with, especially since rumor had it that Ms. Wray had been offered the role that Gloria Stuart had done in the new film version. As I got out of the taxi at her Manhattan high rise I was very impressed by the liveried staff. "Miss Wray is waiting for you. We will bring you right up, sir." She answered the door looking chic and elegant. All in black with tasteful gold jewelry. It had been 65 years since KONG and she was still a beautiful woman. Red bow lips and a thick cap of silver hair surrounding the same face from all those films. Time had been more than kind to her.
As we sat down she put me to ease instantly by getting me a drink and starting the conversation.
Fay Wray:I have to show you what came today. Isn't this lovely? A book signed to me by Eudora Welty. Well, I think that is the most marvelous gift.
Rick McKay: She's a great writer. She always says, "Write what you know."
FW: Yes, but I heard Sinclair Lewis say to his son, "Don't write what you know-you'll run out of material!" (Laughs) It always fascinated me.
RM: Well, I don't think there's ever any danger of you running out of material. You've led such an eventful life.
RM: You mentioned Sinclair Lewis. Wasn't he one of the many writers who fell in love with you?
FW: Well, he said so, but I don't know why. He didn't get even the slightest response from me. But his letters were lovely. And the poems he wrote me were lovely.
RM: Did you save them?
FW: Oh, he asked me to! I used some of them in my book.
RM: Well, writers always found you-or you found them. It's natural, now, that you're writing.
FW: Oh, I think so. I hope I'm doing it well, but I don't even care, because I just want to do what I care about doing. I suppose it is acceptable, and if it's not that's fine, because I have expressed myself. My children like what I've been doing.
RM: A lot of people like what you're doing. Your first book, FAY WRAY: ON THE OTHER HAND, was very well received.
FW: Yes, it was well received.
RM: And it's a perfect title, considering your most famous acting role was spent sitting in a giant gorilla's hand! Of course, our readers are really curious about your horror and adventure movies. Do you mind if I ask you about them?
FW: Well, no, that's all right. I made them; I have to admit to it!
RM: Oh, but they're legendary films.
FW: KING KONG is, and I think it's wonderful that there is a movie that is so enduring and that I'm a part of it. I like that feeling, now. It used to be that I was a little "Oh, dear, an animal picture! Oh, my!"
RM: It's one of the most famous movies ever made.
FW: I think it is. And it's known around the world. When my daughter and her husband went to China many years ago-they were one of the first groups to go there-she was introduced as the daughter of the woman from KING KONG. Oh, my! They got a good, strong reaction!
RM: Well, I hate to say it, but if we are going to make it to the theater we had better get going.
FW: Is it cold? I am wearing this down coat. My body is not used to New York cold yet. I am usually in my Los Angeles place now!"
As we reached the lobby the doorman said it would be very hard to get a cab
now as we were at peak pre-theater rush hour. I kicked myself for not planning
better. "I could go to the avenue and try and get you a cab," he volunteered.
We made small
talk as we waited. "Don't worry, I know one is coming right now, I can feel
it," Fay kept saying. Soon the doorman ran back. "This is the best I could
do," he said optimistically. There stood the longest, whitest stretch limousine
that I had ever seen. It looked like it should house 6 couples on the way
to their junior prom. I apologized to Ms. Wray, told the doorman we were
fine and opened her door for her. Being on my best behavior, I told her not
to bother scooting over, that I would get in the other side. But, as I ran
around the back of the limousine I saw it take off without me. I had lost
Fay Wray! I had a movie legend in my keeping for ten minutes and I had already
lost her! I ran down the street after her and caught the super-stretch just
as it was turning at the light. I pulled my door open just in time to see
the diminutive star calling "Stop, stop!" to a diver that was a half block
ahead in the driver seat. We were off. Luckily she found it very funny and
soon we were both laughing.
RM: I hope you will forgive me, but since we ARE going to TITANIC, I can't resist asking you if it is true that you were offered the new film version recently.
FW: Well, I was slightly tempted, but I am really glad that I didn't. I've written a play, THE MEADOWLARK, that was produced this past summer, and that was so much more rewarding than anything else could have been. It had the best cast and production it's ever had. It deals with a time in my life when my family, because of the Depression, came south from Canada. Well, we ended up in a town called Lark, which is 20 miles out of Salt Lake City. The housing was so inadequate that we had a real struggle. It was good for us, I suppose. Those kinds of times produce qualities in us that make us better for having had them. My parents were not getting along. My mother was quite intolerant of friendships that were being developed. She wanted us to feel we were above everyone in the town. She really did tell us that we were related to Chief Justice John Marshall, and that may have been true. I never did bother to find out. For the purposes of the play, it was perfect to be able to use that and the stresses and strains that there were. At the end of the play, the mother realizes the terrible things she had done.
RM: That must be better than therapy for you.
FW: Therapy? I don't know.
RM: But, you can resolve those issues and learn to understand them by reliving them in the play.
FW:I don't think I will ever understand that behavior. Or ever understand intolerance. Ever!
We arrived at
the Broadway theater and saw TITANIC. After the performance I suggested that
we have dinner at the Paramount Hotel a few doors down. The hotel lobby is
designed by Phillip Stark in a whimsical fashion and the grand staircase
ascending to the restaurant is radically raked and appears to be tilted.
"Are you sure we are not still on the Titanic," she said, not missing a beat.
As we ordered drinks the young waitress kept staring at her. "Are you …
an actress?" said the young girl. "Well, I used to be," said the coquettish
star. "I am a writer now." After we ordered drinks I excused myself for a
moment and when I returned I found a slew of young waiters and waitresses
all sitting on the floor at my date's feet. They had figured out who she
was and wanted to know all about her movies. Their young eyes were shining.
This is the town where Woody Allen said you could always get service in a
restaurant by calling "Oh, Actor!"
"I am an actress and a writer, too," our waitress is telling Fay. "I saw 'The Clairvoyant,'" a young waiter is telling her. "It just came out on video. You are so incredible!" Fay paid attention to each one and signed a few autographs. They reluctantly scattered back to their duties.
RM:I love THE CLAIRVOYANT, fascinating film. Claude Rains, right?
FW: THE CLAIRVOYANT? Yes, and I was living at the Dorchester. I was thinking only yesterday how delightful it was. The man who was designing the clothes never arrived before roses came. Roses came first. Wasn't that lovely? Wasn't that beautiful? These things don't happen very much today, I think.
RM: Well, if you went back to work, they would.
FW: (Laughs) Well, that is a charming thing to say. But THE CLAIRVOYANT had an interesting story, a very interesting story-and that is what is required, I think, in that genre. Just scary for scary's sake is not worth anything. But, there was a fascinating story, where Claude Rains was a mindreader, as you may remember, and to his surprise he anticipated the winner of the derby. But, he didn't know he was going to do that and he got a little lost, didn't he? It changed his life.
RM: He didn't know his own powers.
FW: No, but I think he believed that he had more than he had. I'm not sure, but there was a conflict in him. Good actor, very good.
RM: Claude Rains? What was he like?
FW: Oh, he was very focussed, very focussed-and he wanted to be taller! I always think of that in connection with him. I noticed that his heels were always quite a bit higher than anyone else's on the set!
RM: Higher than yours?
FW: Well, equal to mine I suppose-but more foundation than I had! (Laughs) THE CLAIRVOYANT was a good film because of the story value, I think. And I liked working with Claude Rains; I had great admiration for him. He was a really serious actor. No fooling around and no nonsense! Speaking of Claude Rains, did you ever read that thing about CASABLANCA? Did you read what Groucho Marx said?
RM: No.
FW: There's a brilliant letter he wrote to Warner Brothers about the use of the word "Casablanca." He was making a picture with his brothers called A NIGHT IN CASABLANCA and Warner Brothers wanted to protest the use of the word "Casablanca" in the title. Well, he wrote them back and said he had no idea that anyone could own a town like that! And he said, "What about the word 'brothers?' We were brothers long before you were brothers!" (Laughs) It's brilliant-I want to save it for Julius Epstein, the man who wrote the original CASABLANCA. If he hasn't seen it, he will enjoy it so much!
RM: That's who you recently went to Washington with, right?
FW: Yes, my daughter Vickie, and her husband David Rentels and Epstein and I went to Washington to ask for a little residual payment for the people who had written films in the early, early days, people who never got any residuals on tapes or anything at all. Now the copyright has been extended 20 years, but prior to that they paid no attention to these people, and some of them really need help. It was appropriate to have someone who had written CASABLANCA-and it didn't hurt to have me, because I was married to some very great writers who fit into that time era.
RM: Well, I know of one leading man that you worked with who certainly didn't need lifts . . .
FW: Oh, that! Well, that is a lovely film, I think-the one that begins with KING and ends with KONG. (Laughs) It has been so enduring. You know, at first , when I saw it, I thought "Oh, but there's too much screaming in this film!" I was a little unhappy about that. I didn't realize it had the impact that it had until several-oh, maybe 20 years later.
RM: How did you create the famous Fay Wray scream?
FW: When we were making KONG, I went into the sound room and made an aria of horror sounds. I was in charge of it; there was no one there to listen to me. I was totally in charge of what I wanted to do.
RM: No one even directed you in your screams?
FW: Not at all. Not at all. I directed me entirely! The attitude about KING KONG was like that. The producers who wanted me to do it liked me and trusted me, and more than one scene was only one take, because I'd plan ahead what I thought would be appropriate for that scene-so one take was enough. I enjoyed that part of it, and I really enjoyed working with Merian Cooper. I had great respect for him. He was a wonderfully absentminded man. I remember a time we had been at a dinner party for the man who invented Technicolor [XXXXXX XXXXX]. When we were waiting in the hallway to depart, Cooper's wife Dorothy asked Merian if he would go upstairs and get her warm winter coat. So, he went up and came back with a fur coat. The only problem was that Dorothy didn't own a fur coat! Now that's pretty absent-minded, I would say-but he was very talented. He was very talented and very enthusiastic about whatever came before him to do. He was a good friend to the aviators he had worked with in the first world war. There was a very unified feeling about them that I admired a lot. He had been in prison in Russia. He was shot down over Poland! He went to join the Kosciusco Squadron, if you know what that means-I don't know really what it means, exactly, but it was important! He was shot down and sent to prison. He escaped with a lady who subsequently went with him to Persia-it used to be Persia-and they did a beautiful film called GRASS.
RM: Was he friendly with your first husband, John Monk Saunders?
FW: Yes. They both had the same literary attorney in New York and were both interested in flight. John Monk Saunders wrote WINGS, which won the first Academy Award for Best Picture.
RM: You got a letter just the other day about KING KONG, didn't you?
FW: Oh, that is an interesting letter! It said that "a sign of maturity is when you find-after seeing KING KONG many, many times-that you are more interested in the early part of it before we even meet Kong." He said "I like to look at that over and over again." He was complementing me. He wouldn't have written it otherwise.
RM: The first third is really quite powerful. It sets up the entire film,
doesn't it? Weren't KING KONG and THE MOST
DANGEROUS GAME
filmed on the same sets?
FW: Well, it wasn't really a set-it was a jungle! (Laughs)
RM: Were they filmed back to back?
FW: No, they were filmed at the same time, because KING KONG had to have a lot of animation and that took a lot of time to do. So, while they were getting the animation completed, it was possible to do other films. THE MOST DANGEROUS GAME was one. That was a very interesting story. Weird story. But, it had value because it took an unusual approach. The others I did-DOCTOR X and THE MYSTERY OF THE WAX MUSEUM . . . .
RM: You're not too crazy about them, are you? But KING KONG's success was international-global!
FW: It was! But, that was Merian Cooper's concept.
RM: It's amazing, really. We tend to assume that KING KONG has existed forever, like some kind of folklore.
FW: You're right. It has become a myth. But, Cooper just made it up!
RM: KING KONG was originally edited for television. Among other scenes that were cut was the one in which Kong peeled off your clothes. Was that scene filmed entirely with you?
FW: Well, they said so, but I think they probably put a few scenes in because they thought it would be exciting. Actually, the camera was never overhead at any time. It was always a side view of me. Subsequently, after the picture was released, I saw some scenes from above and my clothes being pulled-and I think that was added later.
RM: Do you think it was a stunt double and they wanted to spice it up?
FW: Yes, I think so. Merian Cooper never would have done that and he never would have asked me to do that.
RM: So when you went to the original theatrical release, those scenes weren't in it?
FW: Well, there were shots of Kong pulling at my clothes, but only in horizontal and never from above. Never from above.
RM: Which movie did you find more of an acting challenge: KING KONG or THE MOST DANGEROUS GAME?
FW: Well, neither one was a challenge. KING KONG was difficult only because of the hours we had to put in. At that time, there was no protection for actors about time or anything. We worked straight through for 22 hours once on KONG. It was really a wearying experience, because it was mechanics, really, as much as anything that we were dealing with. The technicality was transparency to transparency from the rear, and then re-photographing me in the foreground on the same level with that screen-so I couldn't really see what was happening at all! It had to be done many, many times to confirm that it was okay. So we worked for 22 hours!
RM: Incredible!
FW: And that was supposed to be a test. Now, my friend Merian Cooper was a wonderful person, but he used that test and you are not supposed to do that. The test was used in the picture.
RM: So, you weren't even aware when you shot it that you were shooting the final product?
FW: No, not really. It was supposed to be the test to send to New York to get the okay to put up the money for the film. Well, they saw it and liked it and they sent some money. But this was a time when Hollywood was in desperate straits. RKO was almost bankrupt-so KING KONG really saved the studio. When I look back, I'm kind of glad that it helped save the studio. Who can say, "You mustn't use this because it's a test." There were no rules, no rules at all.
RM: Today the union would stop it.
FW: But, that was a very dreary experience. Tiresome. I liked Merian Cooper well enough. He had this wonderful, boyish enthusiasm, and I was keen about his style and his friendship and what he stood for as a human being.
RM: He obviously cared about you, too.
FW: And he did care, he did care. I had been in a film of his before, a silent film called FOUR FEATHERS. Richard Arlen, Bill Powell-it was rather a good film. Merian Cooper liked me well enough to do KING KONG, and then THE MOST DANGEROUS GAME. He came to New York after we had done FOUR FEATHERS because he didn't like the studio's treatment of that film. He was angry and he came to New York with the intention to make Pan Am a successful airline. Juan Tripp was a friend of his. Good name for an airline man, huh? "Juan Tripp after another?" (Laughs) Merian knew some rich people and someone named Burden, who was wealthy and related to the Whitneys. Well, that man had brought back two enormous dragon-size lizards and had given them to the Bronx Zoo, but they didn't survive. They couldn't stand the mistreatment of civilization. Merian wanted to put them on the Chrysler Building and make a movie about them, but then decided that he would use the Empire State Building. At the time, I was doing a play in New York with Cary Grant. When I got back to LA, Merian called me into the studio and said, "You are going to have the tallest, darkest leading man in town!" Well, I thought he was talking about Cary Grant! I thought, "He cares enough about me that he has been checking on me and knows that Cary Grant is coming to Hollywood!"
RM: Little did you know! So, KING KONG was originally going to be a lizard?
FW: Well, he certainly might have been! But, I wouldn't have been in it then, would I?
RM: Sure you would, but your leading man would have just been a bit . . .
FW: Slimy! (Laughs) But, I was ready to take whatever Merian Cooper wanted me to do. He was like a big boy who had enthusiasms. Why, he and his partner, Ernest Schoedsack, went up in planes and they shot down Kong. They were the ones who did the scenes in the planes! With those shining virtues, he couldn't make a mistake. And sure enough, he didn't make many mistakes with KING KONG, did he?
RM: Not at all. Did Merian Cooper ever talk to you about the inspiration for KONG?
FW: Well, it started with those giant lizards, and then he realized it was not as practical or picturesque as a gorilla might be. But Willis O'Brien, the man who had done the dinosaurs for THE LOST WORLD, was available and it came very quickly to Merian that O'Brien would be effective. Willis O'Brien is the man who really created King Kong. He came on the set one day and stood in a doorway-if there is such a thing as a doorway on a set-and he just stood there and I thought it would be nice to talk to him, but I never got to!
RM: But, you had your hands full-or, rather, you were a handful! Did you keep in touch with Merian Cooper over the years?
FW: Yes. Of course, there was THE MOST DANGEROUS GAME, but that was really made by his partner. He was hardly ever on the set.
RM: He never recreated the success of KONG, did he?
FW: No, but he was thinking of doing something terrific. We went one day to the airfield to say goodbye to a mutual friend. Cooper was leaning on a fence with me and he said, "You know, I have an idea that is so much bigger than KONG. You thought KONG was big? Well, it is nothing compared with the idea I have now." I wish that he had told me all about it, but he didn't. He never did that film that he was dreaming of . . . .
RM: Joel McCrea was actually supposed to be your leading man for both KING KONG and THE MOST DANGEROUS GAME.
FW: Oh, I don't know about that. He was certainly my leading man for THE MOST DANGEROUS GAME, but I don't know how those decisions were made.
RM: Who did you have most fun working with: Joel McCrea or Bruce Cabot?
FW: Oh, well, I didn't really know Bruce Cabot at all! He was not a personality you could even exchange with or talk to; he was just there when he was needed, then he was off. Sometimes they had to go looking for him!
RM: And Joel McCrea?
FW: Oh, he was a sweet human being, a very dear human being. Gentle, gentle kind of person. We had a social relationship because we both went frequently to the home of Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks . . .
RM: Pickfair.
FW: . . . which was always a nice experience. But, Joel-always at the stroke of midnight he went home! He just disciplined himself that way, I guess.
RM: He wasn't too involved in the glamour and show-business side of Hollywood?
FW: No, I don't think so. Never. He was not an "actor's actor," shall we say. I don't think he would ever have wanted to be in the theater, for instance. But, he had an easy charm about him. I did one other picture with him later-THE RICHEST GIRL IN THE WORLD, I think it was called. He was always just a sweet guy.
RM: What can you tell us about Leslie Banks?
FW: Oh, Leslie Banks, who played Count Zaroff in THE MOST DANGEROUS GAME, was an astonishingly interesting actor, a very distinguished English actor. He looked like he'd had a stroke. He had something wrong with one eye and it gave him a really scary expression. It didn't hurt that picture at all! (Laughs) It was Zaroff's idea to send the people out and then send the hounds after them.
RM: Did you get to know him at all?
FW: It seemed to me that we worked pretty fast and didn't get a chance, really, to know the people we were working with. Sometimes you worked long enough that you got acquainted with the company, sometimes you didn't . . . .
RM: Besides, you had a husband and a home life.
FW: Not much of a life. No time!
RM: One of your costars is rarely discussed: Noble Johnson, who was the native chief on Skull Island and Zaroff's servant in MOST DANGEROUS GAME.
FW: You know, I never had a conversation with him. I know that he was a very well regarded figure in those films, but not to my consciousness when we were doing them.
RM: Robert Armstrong was also in both films, as Carl Denham in KONG and your drunken brother in MOST DANGEROUS GAME.
FW: I had a drunken brother in THE MOST DANGEROUS GAME? Nobody told me! (Laughs) He was a very proper, straightforward stylist in acting. I used to go to lunch with him and his wife and liked them very much. He was always, always, always a good actor, but I didn't even know he was supposed to be drunk in that movie! All I know is that the concept was very interesting, because the writer had chosen to make people the hunted ones. I thought that was really an interesting turn of events, but the rest didn't seem to register.
RM: Well, it wasn't really vital to your own performance.
FW: No, that's true. I just had to slush through the undergrowth . . . (Laughs)
RM: You made three films opposite Lionel Atwill. He was notorious in Hollywood for his wild parties. Were you ever invited to one?
FW: Lionel Atwill? Wild parties? I am simply amazed! Oh, no! (Laughs) He was married to the ex-wife of Douglas MacArthur. I never heard of any wild parties, but how would I know? If there were any, I certainly wasn't invited to them!
RM: What was he like?
FW: Well, he was a . . . profile.
RM: A profile?
FW: He knew just how to position his head to get the right angles! He was very conscious of his contour. And that was the most significant thing about Lionel Atwill, I thought. I don't mean to put him down, but it seemed to be what he had and what he used!
RM: Your most famous scene with him was the unmasking in THE MYSTERY OF THE WAX MUSEUM.
FW: That was a pretty horrible moment for me and I'll tell you why. There was a mask that was made for him that was gruesome-a wax mask. I was supposed to hit him and the covering of the mask was supposed to fall away-but it only fell partly away, not all away. And what I'd done see was so repulsive that I froze, which would be the natural thing to do. You wouldn't try to get more of the mask off; at least, I don't think so. But, the director, Michael Curtiz, for the sake of his point of view, wanted to see all of Lionel Atwill's face beneath the mask as soon as possible. He wanted me to keep hitting, keep going and hitting till everything was opened up and that awful, awful face was revealed. But, I had just stopped, because that was the natural thing to do. Well, they had another mask and another awful face, so I just shut my eyes and hit it so it could be photographed. But, I didn't appreciate the director's lack of understanding about what happens to you when a moment like that occurs. Michael Curtiz was not-well, he did CASABLANCA, which was a very good movie-but I didn't appreciate him at all as a director. I thought he was more like a part of the camera. He didn't have any warmth whatsoever. He was offended because people ate when lunch was called-even on location! "Why do people have to eat," he said. "I don't eat." He was not a warm personality in any way. No, I didn't feel comfortable with Michael Curtiz at all!
RM: Both THE MYSTERY OF THE WAX MUSEUM and DOCTOR X were filmed in color.
FW: That was difficult. That was difficult. It was just too hot. They had to use so much light to photograph color that it was almost unbearable. Awful experience.
RM: Were you all soaking wet the whole time?
FW: Well, I don't know, because I am polite and I don't do that. (Laughs)
RM: Lucky for your leading man.
FW: Well, I wasn't dripping or anything, but I was just sweltering like I was in an oven.
RM: It must have been hard to feel creative.
FW: Awful! Awful! I mean, you couldn't feel lighthearted. They left the lights on, because a lot of scenes were so sustained that you needed quite a bit of time. But, it was an unhealthy kind of feeling that we all had to go through. Our clothes just felt like they were too much-like we just wanted to rip everything off!
RM: Well, that certainly would have made for an interesting film!
FW: (Laughs) Well, I don't really mean that! But, it was just a miserable experience!
RM: In a recent issue of Video Watchdog, it was reported that DOCTOR X had two cinematographers: Ray Rennahan, who handled the Technicolor filming, and Richard Towers, who filmed in black and white. Do you remember both men working on the film?
FW: No, I do not remember. I just plain don't. I remember Ray Rennihan because he was the Technicolor fella, but the black and white side of the equation doesn't do anything for me at all. I just don't remember that.
RM: Could they have shot the black and white version simultaneously without telling you?
FW: No! Oh, they wouldn't do that. You couldn't have gotten away with that with me. I'd have known there were two cameras there. Still, it's possible I'm wrong, so I am not going to claim yes or no on this question.
RM: In DOCTOR X, you make your first entrance screaming for no apparent reason.
FW: I don't remember that! Well, I probably never saw the film! My first scene in THE MYSTERY OF THE WAX MUSEUM had me in costume as Marie Antoinette-posing for what, I don't remember. But, I never saw the films after they were finished.
RM: Did you scream so much on these films that you wore out your voice?
FW: No, no, no . . . anyone who sings knows that you don't wear it out if you are used to using it, and use it without hurting yourself. Screaming or singing will not make you hoarse if you do it correctly.
RM: Were you under contract or free-lance?
FW: Free-lance.
RM: So you didn't have a studio voice teacher. Did you study voice on your own?
FW: No, it was just instinctive. I knew what I had to do. I was aware of music and voice because I had two sisters who could sing beautifully. They studied voice. One was a soprano and one was a mezzo. But, I just didn't have their talent. I couldn't sing on pitch. I could scream on pitch, apparently! (Laughs)
RM: Who would believe that, of the Wray Sisters, the one who couldn't sing would become famous for her "high note?" In your horror movies, you rarely played scenes opposite other other actresses. How was it working with Glenda Farrell on WAX MUSEUM"
FW: Well, in most of the films I did, I was the only girl. It was kind of a pleasant experience. It was almost an intrusion to have another woman in the film! But, I didn't really feel Glenda Farrell was an intrusion; she was a very sociable, talkative, expressive girl. Very different than I. I was pretty quiet. I am not so quiet today, that's true-but, I used to be rather quiet. Lots of thoughts, lots of ideas-but, I never spoke up.
RM: What changed you?
FW: Growing a little older and getting a sense of freedom. Now I feel that whatever I say has to be accepted. No one can deny me anything. Anything! (Laughs) And that is an achievement, I think, to come to the age I am today. It makes me feel very free. I think it's a plus, it's really a plus for me. Sometimes when people get older, they are inclined to think, "Oh, dear, I'm older-oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear!" I think, "Oh, boy, how wonderful!"
RM: Well, it certainly agrees with you. You're one of the few people who go through decades with the same contours to their face. The same face as in THE WEDDING MARCH . . . .
FW: Oh, that was such a lovely film, wasn't it? It was just the greatest joy, like heaven had picked me up and made me happy. It was very rough sometimes, though, because Eric von Stroheim was a hard taskmaster. But, I enjoyed that. I respected him so much. I never felt angry if he got in a heavy mood. No, I really liked him and went on liking him and cared about him as an individual. He played in a theater here in New York in ARSENIC AND OLD LACE and he shouldn't have been doing it. That was not a role for him. He was way above that. He was a genius. It was so beautiful to have him accept me without any screen test-after just an interview and watching my feelings. See, he was telling me the story he was going to film and watching me while he told me. When he said to me, "Do you think you could play that role?" I said, "I know I could." He put out his hand and said, "Goodbye, Mitzi"-and that was the name of the character. When he said "Mitzi," I knew with certainty that he wanted me to be Mitzi. Well, I couldn't even put my hand out to take his hand and say goodbye. I was so thrilled that I just sobbed and put my face in my hands.
RM: You were very young, then, right?
FW: Well, I was. I was just 17, I think. But, wasn't his reaction wonderful? It was. He said, "Oh, I can work with her." And he said to my agent, "Let's go and see the manager of the studio." And I knew that my life had changed in that minute.
RM: Is it true that von Stroheim fell in love with you?
FW: I don't think so. He always had a love for me, that's true. But, it wasn't deep-it was just lovely. I adored him. I was the aggressor, the silent aggressor-I'll admit that, because I just thought he was so wonderful. I was so unhappy when I wasn't allowed in the studio for a stretch of time, when they shot things that he thought I shouldn't have any connection with-scenes in a brothel. Oh, I felt terrible; I was just so lonely. I wanted to be there all the time.
RM: You survived the transition from silent to sound films. It must have been a particularly anxious time in Hollywood.
FW: There was a friend of my husband, John Monk Saunders, who was in charge of the sound department, which was a kind of reassuring thing. When I did try to express myself it came out pretty tinny, but even so they could understand what I was saying. That turned out to be a plus.
RM: Were you afraid of making the transition?
FW: No, no absolutely not. Certainly all of us sounded too light, without any rich tones to our voices-but still it was audible! It could be heard.
RM: Others didn't fare quite so well.
FW: There was an amusing incident when we were rehearsing with Paul Lucas. He had a particularly amusing accent, so I chuckled. That was terrible; I shouldn't have done that, but he took it too big. He got up and said he couldn't work with people who laughed at him! He was just trying to tease me-I knew that later-but he said he'd have to leave because it wasn't fair to have anyone in the room who was going to make fun of what he had to say. He had a good sense of humor, really.
RM: Did any of your friends not succeed in making the jump to talkies?
FW: No, the only person who had trouble-or thought she did-was Jean Arthur, who turned out to have a wonderful voice. She left Hollywood and went to study in the East with Maude Adams, who was at a school in Ohio. She studied with her and I guess it helped her breathing. She felt that her breathing was incorrect; her voice was too breathy.
RM: Eric von Stroheim may not have been in love with you, but there's no denying that you attracted a lot of very talented men-writers, especially. Who was your biggest influence as a writer? Was it one of your writer husbands or romances?
FW: I always admired good writing and read everything that came out. When I was married to John Monk Saunders, he read everything, too.
RM: When you were a young girl did you ever plan to be a writer instead of an actress?
FW: No, never.
RM: When did you decide to write?
FW: I think when I was involved with Clifford Odets. I decided it was high time for me to write, too. He had written two failures after I knew him, but when I had been with him he told me he had the "formula" and that he could do it over and over. Even at that time, I didn't want to hear that there was a formula. Instinctively, I knew it was a mistake and he was going to be in some trouble from that. Then I thought, "I could write a . . . I will do it. I will write a play."
RM: That was back in the forties. Was Clifford Odets one of your great loves?
FW: Yes. He was a spellbinding person. I thought he had so much genuine caring for the world. I believed in that. I believed in him. I still think he had a great deal. He didn't just . . . self-destruct for me. It was difficult for me not to stay with him.
RM: Any regrets about breaking up?
FW: Oh, no. That was the best thing he ever did for me. It was sure to be difficult, though.
RM: Did you ever see him again?
FW: He wouldn't. But he told Irene Selznick, his very close friend, that he never stopped mourning. He said that I was the only person he ever loved.
RM: He was notorious for treating women badly. Frances Farmer, his wife Luise Rainer . . . .
FW: None of that mattered to me, because I thought I saw him for what he was-or what I thought he was. And he was talented, no doubt about that. But, he thought his talent was based on misery and that if he became happy it would just go. He believed that.
RM: That's too bad. Speaking of the men in your life, there is another film and leading man that I would like to ask you about. In contrast to a lot of the movies you made, VAMPIRE BAT was a low-budget film.
FW: It didn't make much of an impression. It had Lionel Atwill and, if it had much of a story, I don't remember what it was.
RM: Melvyn Douglas played your love interest.
FW: He was very compelling, because he was very sure of himself. He had great style. I had great respect for him and even had a crush on him. I liked him well enough to have that little crush. It's nice to have a crush on your leading man. (Laughs)
RM: Was he a good "crushee?"
FW: No, not much of a "crushee!" He was just a good actor who evoked these attitudes that made me like him. His style was one that I could respect. Very intelligent. His wife, Helen Gahagan, was an intelligent lady, too.
RM: Maybe that was why you had a crush on him-since you thought he wouldn't respond and you'd be safe.
FW: No, I knew he wouldn't respond-and I wouldn't even have wanted to make him respond, to tell you the truth. It's just that he was such a compelling and attractive individual. He was so strong and so sure of what he was doing. No question of what he was performing. He was just admirably in place for himself, even though it was an awful film! Nobody had a very good role in VAMPIRE BAT!
RM: On the subject of love interests, you worked a lot with Gary Cooper, didn't you?
FW: Gary Cooper? I did four films with him and he did WINGS, which my husband had written. Cooper stayed out late one night and came on the set very sleepy. He never did become totally awake for the scene. That's how he got a reputation as a sleepy actor! He was always tired and worn out! I remember once, he woke up and I was sitting beside him. He made the obligatory pass at me and I just made no response at all. That was my style. I never responded to anyone-never, never, never. Because even a "no" was a conversation. So, my secret was not to respond. I didn't respond to Gary any more than I did to anyone else-and he went back to sleep! (Laughs)
RM: You didn't respond to Cary Grant, either.
FW: Oh, that was before he even did film. We were doing a play in New York. He had a crush on me. Whenever we went to a party, he would always sit on the floor beside me. I thought that was kind of beautiful, like that's where he wanted to be. And he was wonderful to work with on stage. He would move downstage, so that as he looked at me the audience had to look at me, too. He knew a lot about the theater and how to move around. He was very secure. It was a play of John Monk Saunders called NICKY and the book had been called Nicky and Her War Birds. I wouldn't have been in it, except that the girl who was supposed to do it was the daughter of the investor and things weren't going well. So they sent for me. David Manners did the film version, THE LAST FLIGHT.
RM: One of David Manners' costars in DRACULA was with you in VAMPIRE BAT: Dwight Frye.
FW: Yes, he was. A while ago some of his relatives asked me to try and help get him a star on Hollywood Boulevard, but there wasn't much I could do for them.
RM: Did you ever hear what happened to Dwight Frye? It may well be an urban myth, but from what I hear he couldn't get any work towards the end of his life and was even reduced to playing a peeping tom in a cheap nudie film.
FW: Oh, no! How sad!
RM: Well, evidently his luck changed and he was cast in a major role in the film WILSON. He was so happy he took his wife and child to a movie to celebrate and then dropped dead on a bus on the way home. He was only 44.
FW: Oh, that is awful. WILSON? That is interesting. I left films to marry Robert Riskin and Fox Studios was keen to have me play the part of Mrs. Woodrow Wilson in the movie WILSON, can you imagine? I'm not big enough for her physically, but that didn't seem to matter much to them!
As we left the Paramount Hotel, word had spread from the waiters to the maitre'de
to the other diners and there was now a small crowd waiting to say hello
to the screen legend. I was beginning to realize that people are funny with
her. They are one part awe-stricken and one part sure that they have known
her all their lives. She held court for about fifteen minutes signing autographs.
I was amazed at what people knew about her. They were asking about all of
the films, not just "Kong." She told stories of her leading men and how Merian
Cooper almost made "Kong" on top of the Chrystler Building till he
was invited
to the opening day festivities at the Empire State Building and saw the view.
The crowd grew slowly and she transfixed them. As they listened I realized
that I had never seen as many jaws -- young and old -- dropped in unison
before. I helped Fay wend her way back down the Titanican staircase and soon
we were back in Times Sqaure again. Fay suggested that we walk back so that
we could see the recently lit Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center. We talked
more on the way.
RM: What was it like for you to stop making films when you married screenwriter Robert Riskin?
FW: It was not hard, because I felt the time had come when I should. There was the hope of having a family life and this appealed to me enormously. Anyhow, we were living in New York, because Robert Riskin had been working for the government for a few years making documentary films-propaganda films-and we were living at the Ritz Hotel. I had already had my first child, Susan, from John Monk Saunders, and then I had Bobby, who was still a tiny thing, just a little fellow, and I didn't want to work. But, I thought maybe Robert Riskin would be glad if I did work, because he'd made a magnificent salary in Hollywood and now he was working for the government and getting almost nothing. So I thought maybe he would like me to do WILSON, and he was hoping that I wouldn't. It was several days before we came to an open understanding. It was such a sweet relief to me, because I had always worked, I had always worked, I had always worked-and it was time to do something else.
RM: Was it difficult when Robert Riskin was ill and you had to go back to work in the fifties?
FW: I had to go back. After the first year of his illness, the cost of hospitalization and bills ate up everything we had-and he was sick for five years. I really had to go back to work.
RM: Was it hard to go back after those years?
FW: It had been about 10 years and I wasn't doing the pictures I would really have liked to have done, but there was a kindness and generosity and sweet feeling toward me that was quite lovely. I did get a larger salary than I had ever had before, and that was because they cared.
RM: They must have loved you and Robert Riskin both.
FW: I think so, I think so.
RM: What do you think of your films from that period?
FW: Oh, the first one I did with that very pretty little girl who does commercials now with her little grandchild . . . .
RM: Jane Powell?
FW: Yes, it was SMALL TOWN GIRL. It had a nice director, a nice producer, and then there was TAMMY AND THE BACHELOR. Debbie Reynolds was adorable, but she never could stop talking! She always had this lovely enthusiasm and desire to express herself that just went and went and went! The director stood behind her once and made the gesture, "How can you stop her? How can you stop her?" (Laughs) But, she's dear; she is a lovely person.
RM: Do you ever see her?
FW: No, except on the screen I've been seeing her lately, haven't I?
RM: Yes, she's back. In the fifties, you made some pretty wild teenage films, including ROCK PRETTY BABY and DRAGSTRIP RIOT.
FW: I really did them just to make some money. I didn't have any real respect for them at all. I didn't understand them in the first place.
RM: They're not seen very much these days.
FW: That's fine! I think that's good! (Laughs)
RM: Did you see REBEL WITHOUT A CAUSE during that era?
FW: Oh, Natalie Wood had been in a series that I did! REBEL came right after and she was suddenly a big star! She had a lovely quality, just lovely, and on one occasion on our show she played a very old lady and did it extremely well. The talent she had was obvious.
RM: Her death must have hit you hard.
FW: Oh! So sad! Yes, it seemed incomprehensible. I don't know what happened that night. Something strange happened that night. Very, very odd that she would have just gone into that water.
RM: We'll never know.
FW: No, we won't. We can wonder, but that is the best we can do. She had such a delicate, vulnerable quality.
RM: You made THE COBWEB for director Vincente Minnelli. What was it like to work with Lauren Bacall, Gloria Grahame, Lillian Gish, Oscar Levant . . . ?
FW: I was interested in Lillian Gish. I thought she was a tremendous talent and I had always admired whatever she'd done. Sometimes I would sit in her dressing room and talk about what she hoped for as a national expression of theater. She thought that there should be a cabinet position for the arts and I think she was right. I think she was right.
RM: Did you get to know anyone else on the set?
FW: Oh, a bit. Oscar Levant was kind of wonderfully ridiculous, wonderfully show-offy. You had to laugh at him. One time, we went to a little luncheon given by the Goldwyns and he demanded that he be served in the entrance hall by himself at a little round table. He didn't want anyone to come near him. Just him there, eating. It was very effective. He got people's attention and everyone came to him! He was a rascal!
RM: And Lauren Bacall?
FW: We had the same designer and we were in wardrobe one day at the same time, but it didn't have any particular significance for me-or for her, either, I'm sure! (Laughs)
RM: You made QUEEN BEE with Joan Crawford. Did the star live up to the title?
FW: Well, one would have to say yes . . . and so one is saying yes! (Laughs) Joan was not a happy person and she liked showing that. She worked on her fan mail all day long. I just didn't understand that, but she did. She washed her hands a lot. She washed her arms all the way up past her elbows. She just couldn't get enough done in that direction. She was compulsive about being clean, clean, clean! She had beautiful furs to wear for that role, and those white furs were very clean; they looked immaculate! On one occasion, she mispronounced a word and she apologized to the director. He dismissed it by saying, "Well, don't say it, then,"-making it clear that it was not at all important. I thought that was wonderful! She was so worried about herself, I felt. She was a good soul, a good soul. She wanted to be nice to everybody and kind, certainly kind to her fans. She thought about them a lot. Kind of a "queenish" thing to be doing.
RM: Do you think she was scared?
FW: She was insecure. I just remember all that fan mail.
RM: You were great in that film.
FW: Was I? Oh, my goodness!
RM: You made the character into something worthy of Tennessee Williams. It was very touching.
FW: I say! Really? I've never even seen it! She was a rather pathetic creature, wasn't she?
RM: Not pathetic, really, but very moving.
FW: Well, I'll be darned!
RM: You did a lot of television in the fifties and sixties. It must have been an experience to work with Raymond Burr on PERRY MASON.
FW: I can tell you he was an extraordinary performer, always interesting. I can also tell you that he always read his material on camera and that was dismaying to me. I couldn't understand how anyone could depend on reading rather than memorizing. He had so much to do, perhaps you can't really blame him. I certainly didn't hold it against him, because I liked him too well.
RM: Did he look you in the eye when he acted or at the monitor?
FW: Oh, the monitor-but in intimate scenes that demanded you look at each other, he might not have done that. Medium shots are what I am talking about.
RM: You rarely talk about your TV work.
FW: Oh, well, I don't mention it much because it doesn't fit in with anything else I've ever done. I did a series where Natalie Wood was my daughter. Paul Hartman had the lead. He was a real bumpkin and I was a pretty elegant wife for him, it seemed to me. (Laughs) I think the studio gave me that series on purpose, because they knew perfectly well that Robert Riskin was ill and that I needed to go to work. They gave me that series to do. It was nice, because it was out in the valley and I could go to the Motion Picture Country Home between scenes and see Bob.
RM: That must have been really difficult for you.
FW: It wasn't hard work, but it was a painful time. He did have wonderful care there, incredibly good care. Bob had a beautiful mind. A beautiful mind, really. And he didn't lose his talent, ever. He just didn't have it all together anymore, after that stroke. Anyhow, we did that series for 13 weeks, which was all a series lasted in the early days.
RM: And then you did a lot of television over the next 15 years?
FW: I guess I did, but none was really memorable.
RM: Gloria Stewart is being touted as a possible Oscar nominee for TITANIC, in the role you might have played. Do you have any regrets about not doing it?
FW: Absolutely none whatsoever! None, none, none! I think it would have been a tortuous experience altogether. I feel good about where my life is, now. I feel free and joyous and happy and more liberated than I have ever been. Instead of going to shoot TITANIC, my play THE MEADOWLARK was presented in New Hampshire and that was worth 20 TITANICs. It was so satisfying for me-a great reward, just to see it done well. And it was beautifully directed by my daughter Susan Riskin. Imagine, a play about my mother directed by my daughter?!
RM: But don't you ever think of coming back and working in films?
FW: No. I really wouldn't want to. I love films, I love the camera-I love the thought that when you're in front of the camera, whatever you do can go around the world. Isn't that a marvelous feeling to have? That's a beautiful feeling. But, I think the quality of films is questionable. I don't know how to hold a gun. I'd have no idea what to do with one if it came near me. It seems like everyone in films has to have a gun! And explosions! Explosions! Kerosene blowing up all the time! If I ever was going to invest in anything it would be kerosene!
As we arrived at her swank, luxury high rise she invited me upstairs to continue the conversation. It was clear the staff loved her as they hurried to the doors to open them for us, asking about our evening. We were soon a half mile above Manhattan in what she calls her "ivory tower."
RM: Would you forgive me if I were to ask a few more questions about that legendary leading man of yours?
FW: Oh, Kong? Of course! Kong has always been fascinatingly present in my life. When I was in Paris at the Follie Bergere, there was a wonderful revue with King Kong. I went to see the show and a very popular Follies star was in the big hand.
RM: When was this?
FW: Long time ago-before Merian Cooper died. Maybe 30 years ago. And there were a lot of six-feet-plus guys in gorilla suits. It was really quite exciting!
RM: Who knew what a hit KING KONG would be, right?
FW: He has hung around a long time. That is what I told him in my book: "You made only one movie and I made 80 and the one you made has been fabulously well known." So he has the edge over me, hasn't he? (Laughs)
RM: Hey, your films are pretty well known by our readers. What's your most vivid memory of working on KING KONG?
FW: Hmmm . . . that's a big one, 'cause he was a pretty big fella! I would have to say that it was working in the hand, which I had to do so many times, and having to simulate trying to get away from him when I was really trying to hold on! (Laughs)
RM: So you had to look like you were trying to break free while you were actually hanging on for dear life?
FW: Yes! Because if I had fallen, I would have dropped at least six feet to the stage! That would've been more than enough to hurt me, wouldn't it? So I had to make it look as though I couldn't stand him and had to hit at him-but I was hoping that I could hold on long enough to do that efficiently.
RM: Was the hand mechanized?
FW: Oh, yes. It could move, because they were rubberized fingers. Every time I moved, they opened up a little more and that was the hazard.
RM: It wasn't electronic, though. The hand had to be moved manually?
FW: Oh, absolutely. It were rubberized and so every move I made pushed the fingers farther apart.
RM: Did you have any conception of how it would look on the screen?
FW: No, but occasionally I would go to the projection room and see the little figure they had in the hand of the little King Kong. When that figure started moving, I knew it was me. It had to be me-nobody else! (Laughs) That little figure was about three inches long, I think. And that was me. The difference between my actual size and that little three-inch creature was handled in an extraordinarily interesting way, I thought.
RM: What's your secret for having such a happy, fulfilled life?
FW: A secret? Oh, have I got a secret? I didn't know I did!
RM: C'mon, now!
FW: I would say the secret is to be enthusiastic about everything that comes into your life. To care, to care about people. To be excited about everything that comes close to you. I love to read. And I love to write, mostly. If I am doing something creative, I'm in the best form that I can possibly be . . . .
RM: Is there anything else you want people to know-or any advice you might like to give?
FW: As far as advice, that will be in my next book, my next collection. I certainly never like to instruct anyone, but just say as I feel. That's the same as advice, isn't it?
RM: Sure. Do you have a title yet?
FW: Oh, yes! Scene by Scene: as Seen by Fay Wray. It'll be about different incidents. Just my feelings about quite a few people. Attitudes. My thoughts about the universe and simple things like that. (Laughs)
RM: No warnings about Lionel Atwill's orgies or wicked, wicked Hollywood?
FW: No, when I talk about Hollywood, I have a different view than most people. It is not a chintzy place! It is not "Tinseltown" at all! A lot of talent, an enormous amount of talent went through this town and made a strong, strong imprint on film-and that will always remain. There is a lot of strength and intelligence in Hollywood.
RM: So many people dismiss Hollywood as an intellectual wasteland.
FW: Oh, that's too easy. So very easy to knock something. It becomes a sort of unattractive habit. Eric von Stroheim, with whom I worked, was a very brilliant director. Ernst Lubitch was brilliant. Years later, he told me he had always wanted to work with me and I wish we had. He had the kind of talent that would have been wonderful to share.
RM: Any regrets?
FW: Oh, a few. ROCK PRETTY BABY and those things I am not keen on, but they didn't really hurt. There is so much that is worthy about film and how it's made and who makes it. Every now and then, something extraordinary comes out. And you can't put it down. You can't put films down. They have made the world smaller. They have brought nations together. Look how people dress now in Japan. The ladies wore kimonos and now they wear Western-style clothes, don't they? Hollywood's influence is wonderfully, wonderfully strong.
RM: You're absolutely right-and you're part of it.
FW: I don't know, am I? I didn't wear anything that could be copied in KING KONG. (Laughs) But whatever I wore-or didn't-it was appropriate to the scene!
We suddenly realized that it was after 2 in the morning and we hadn't stopped talking. I thanked the legendary leading lady profusely and we promised to keep in touch. As I left the building the doorman said "She is some lady, isn't she?" I told him that I had to admit that she was. "Donald Trump was here to see someone the other day and ran into her in the lobby. He knew her right away," the doorman told me proudly.
"Oh yeah, What did he say?"
"Five words," said the doorman: " . . .'Twas beauty killed the beast."
I smiled as I hit the sidewalk and the cold December air. Trump was right.
Interview ©Rick McKay 1998