Home > The Other Side of Midnight(42)

The Other Side of Midnight(42)
Author: Sidney Sheldon

As I looked at Cary, I wondered what stardom was going to be like for me, because I knew that co-starring in a movie with Cary Grant was going to change my life. I would be getting offers and proposals to star in other movies. I would be internationally famous. From now on, I would have no privacy and no leisure. My life would belong to the public. But I was prepared to make the sacrifice.

We had reached the soundstage. Irving Reis said, “Quiet on the set, everybody.”

Everyone was suddenly still, watching us.

Irving Reis said, “Camera.” He turned to us. “Action.”

Cary gave me my cue. I stared at him for a long, long moment while he waited for me to speak. I looked up at what seemed to be millions of people staring down from the catwalk, and suddenly I was back at school, with my play, standing on the stage, laughing hysterically. I panicked and, without a word, I turned and fled from the soundstage.

That was the end of my acting career. Now that the burden of stardom was no longer weighing me down, I could go back to work on my screenplay.

Dore hired Rudy Vallee to replace me and Suddenly It’s Spring began shooting. Everyone seemed pleased with the way it was going.

One day David Selznick called me into his office. “I want you to do something for me.”

“Certainly, David.”

“It’s National Brotherhood Week. Every year a different studio makes a short film about bringing all religions together.”

I knew about it. When the short film was over, the lights would come on in the theaters and ushers would walk up and down the aisles, collecting money for the charity.

“We’re doing it this year. I want you to write it.”

“No problem.”

“We have half a dozen stars lined up. You’ll write about two minutes for each one.”

“I’ll get to work on it.”

The next day I brought in a two-page script I had written for Van Johnson, who was to be photographed first. Selznick read it. “Good. Take it to Van. He’s in a bungalow on the back lot.”

I carried the two pages over to Van Johnson’s bungalow. When he saw me, he opened the door, and I introduced myself. At that time Van Johnson was one of the biggest stars at MGM.

“Here are your pages,” I said. “We’re ready to shoot as soon as you are.”

“Thank you.” He added, ruefully, “I had a terrible dream last night.”

“What was that?”

“I dreamt that this big star coming over from Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer learned his lines, and then they kept changing them, and he panicked. The dream woke me up.”

I laughed. “Don’t worry. These are your lines.”

He smiled and glanced down at the pages. “I’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

I went back to Selznick’s office.

“It’s all set,” I said.

“I have an idea,” Selznick replied. “I want you to change Van’s lines.”

“David, I just left him. He was nervous. He had a nightmare about his lines being changed.”

“To hell with him. Here’s what I want.” And he gave me a new direction for the scene. I hurried back to my office, rewrote it, and showed it to Selznick.

“Good,” he said. “That’s it.”

I hurried back to Van Johnson’s bungalow. He opened the door.

“I’m ready.”

“Van, there’s been a slight change. Mr. Selznick thought this would be better.” I handed him the new pages. He turned pale.

“Sidney, I wasn’t joking about my dream. I really—”

“Van, it’s only two pages. It’s a cinch.”

He took a deep breath. “All right.”

I went back to David Selznick’s office.

“I have another idea,” he said. “It would be better if we took this angle with Van . . .”

I was horrified. “David, he’s already panicky. We can’t keep changing his lines.”

“He’s an actor, isn’t he? Let him learn them.”

He told me what he wanted. Reluctantly, I went back to my office and rewrote the scene.

The hardest part was facing Van Johnson again.

I walked up to his bungalow. He started to say something, then looked at my face. “You didn’t . . .”

“Van, it’s only two pages. This is the last time.”

“God damn it. What are you doing to me?”

I finally got him calmed down. “Come over to the set when you’re ready,” I told him.

I did not go back to David Selznick’s office. The rest of Van’s segment went smoothly.

Richard telephoned the next day.

“Bro?”

It was great to hear his voice. “How are you doing, Richard?”

“Whatever I’ve been doing, I have to do for two now. I’m getting married.”

I was thrilled. “That’s great news! Do I know her?”

“Yes. Joan Stearns.” Joan and Richard had gone to school together in Chicago.

“When is the wedding?”

“In three weeks.”

“Damn! I have to be out of the country, shooting a segment for this project I’m doing for National Brotherhood Week.”

“You’ll meet her when you come back. We’ll come for a visit.”

As promised, Richard and his lovely, upbeat wife arrived in Los Angeles a month later. It was obvious that they were very much in love. We spent a delightful week together, until it was time for them to return to Chicago.

The next morning, when I arrived at my office, my secretary said, “Mr. Selznick would like to see you.”

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