My Days Read online

  I don’t think I have ever encountered someone who had such an innate sense of style, not just in the way she dressed, but in the way she spoke and carried herself, like a model, which she had been. She was warm, friendly, cooperative, and from the first day I met her, she gave me the sense that she was genuinely at ease with her life, both personally and professionally.

  While I greatly admired Bacall and appreciated the kindness she showed me, we were never close. From my early days at Paramount, I was always conscious of my place in the professional pecking order and never tried to cozy up to those who were above my echelon.

  Although my role as the Irish maid was neither one of any great significance nor one that challenged me to stretch my acting chops, having the opportunity to get to know and work with Coward in the CBS production of Blithe Spirit was, at that point in my life and career, my greatest personal and professional experience. As the days trickled down to our final day of work, a sense of sadness crept over me that it was coming to an end. That sadness was greatly alleviated, if not completely wiped out, when Coward himself invited me to a sit-down dinner wrap party he was hosting at the home of the actor, singer and dancer Clifton Webb.

  I was thrilled to have been asked to attend, and my breath was even further taken away when I arrived and learned I was to be seated at the same table as Coward, Webb and Mildred Natwick. Oh, if only I could relive that evening. Coward and Webb put on quite a show for those at our table, so much so that people from all the surrounding tables were all cramming in around ours to hear the stories. It was like watching a tennis match, with these two going back and forth, prompting each other to tell a wonderful story of such and such or to recall a juicy bit of gossip about so-and-so. I don’t think I have ever laughed as much as I did while sitting at that table, and I felt as if I had died and gone to Heaven to have been right in the middle of it.

  I knew that Coward was soon leaving Los Angeles for Las Vegas, where he was scheduled to perform at the Sands Hotel. Not knowing when or if I would see him again, I brought along my recording of his first Vegas appearance, Noël Coward at Las Vegas, and asked him to sign the cover, which showed him in a tuxedo, standing in the sand and drinking a cup of tea. Along with that treasured signed record album, I left the party that night with a beautiful bottle of perfume that Coward gave me and, more importantly, the greatest gift: the chance to have lived out the dream of getting to know and work with the man who had been such an inspiration to me as a young girl.

  It was also during this point in my career that I realized another dream—one I had always perceived as being the ultimate dream—the opportunity to appear on Broadway. Yes, on the evening of November 24, 1958, I, Marion Ross of Albert Lea, realized the dream of walking out onto the boards of Broadway’s 46th Street Theatre in the role of Asia Booth in the Milton Geiger play Edwin Booth. The show, which starred José Ferrer, told the story of the nineteenth-century actor whose brother John Wilkes Booth assassinated President Abraham Lincoln.

  It seems as if this achievement would warrant a chapter of this book all unto its own—the fulfillment of the starry-eyed young girl’s dream to go to New York and appear on the Great White Way—but in reality, my Broadway debut never produced the fireworks and fanfare I thought it would. In a way, the opportunity had just come to me as many other parts had, and I oddly found myself far less than over the moon about it.

  My path to Broadway started when I was cast in the small role of Asia Booth, the sister of Edwin and John Wilkes Booth, when the play was being done at the Huntington Hartford Theater in Los Angeles. José Ferrer was directing the show as well as starring in the lead role. I didn’t think it was a very good play, and my feelings were backed up with poor reviews and a lackluster response from the audiences. Still, in spite of its flaws, José, who by that time had been appearing and directing on Broadway for two decades, was determined to take the show to San Francisco and then on to New York. The part I was playing was not that significant, and he could have just as easily cast a local actress to play Asia, but he desperately wanted me to come along. I was all too aware that he would have liked our relationship to have been more than just a professional one, and while I did have to fight off his advances from time to time, we otherwise got along famously. I really liked him. He was charming, and once the boundaries of our relationship were finally set in place, we became good friends. And so, while I was less than enamored with the show or the role, I went out and bought myself a steamer trunk (which seemed very theatrical to me) and agreed to go wherever the show was to take me.

  My memories of doing the show are sort of a blurred whirl, and while the dream of appearing on Broadway became a reality, it wasn’t the way I had imagined it to be. Yes, it was interesting to be working in the heart of Broadway, on the stage of that Herbert J. Krapp–designed theater, with its innovative sloped orchestra, but that was it. It was more interesting than it was exciting. I don’t recall ever feeling as if I had finally seen my dream of appearing on Broadway fulfilled. And I found it to be mundane: the entire experience was more like another job than the grandeur I had always envisioned.

  The fact that I was not overwhelmed with working on Broadway was a blessing. Had it been all I had hoped it would be, I’m guessing I would have never wanted it to end, which it did—abruptly! Granted, ninety-three years had passed since Edwin Booth’s brother struck down the nation’s beloved sixteenth president, but, perhaps, it was still “too soon,” as they say, and playgoers, who cared little or not at all about the life of the revered actor who had been tarnished by his brother’s horrific deed, stayed away in droves, as I once heard a bomb aptly described. We received tepid reviews and performed to less than full houses; and after twenty-four performances, when the curtain fell following our December 13 show, the run of my Broadway debut came to an end.

  Something else was coming to an end as I left New York: my twenties. I was nowhere near where I had hoped to be with my career by this point in my life, but along with the struggles and setbacks I had experienced, I had also achieved some wonderful successes. I may have been frustrated that it was all taking much longer than my old five-year plan had called for, but while I had not broken through with anything other than some minor roles, I was making a living as an actress and was optimistic and upbeat about the future. And so it was back to Hollywood, back to Effie, and the beginning of what would ultimately be two of my grandest productions: babies!

  Chapter 11

  My Real-Life Role as Mom

  Upon my return from New York to Los Angeles, I began to accept something that I had been thinking about for a while, and that, perhaps, my less than stellar debut on Broadway had confirmed: it was not only on the stages of Broadway and in the world of “legitimate theater” that an actor could properly present their craft and find respect; those things could also be accomplished by working in film and television.

  My heart may have still been in the theater, but as a practical matter, it was my work in film and television that was building my résumé, helping me make contacts and, equally importantly, if not more so, paying the bills.

  When I think back on that time—the final year of the 1950s—I have memories of Effie being helpful, cooperative and understanding when, due to work, I had to be gone for long days or even for weeks at a time. He had finished college and, while still struggling over what career path he should pursue, was beginning to show signs for the first time of a willingness to consider working in a profession other than acting. He never came right out and admitted it, nor did I ever harshly throw it in his face, but I think we were both well aware that to establish a career as an actor took a dedication and a determined work ethic, which I had in spades and he completely lacked.

  I can’t say I ever resented it, but from the day we returned from our quickie marriage in Arizona, I always felt that I was the one who had to take the lead in everything that happened in our marriage and our lives. Along with being the sole breadwinner, I had to locate the places
where we would live, and then, once we were settled, I would handle all the day-to-day things that were just the basic needs of living, from making sure we had toothpaste, toilet paper and bed linens to making sure there was food in the house and that the bills were paid.

  Our marriage was never one with any sort of balance. In fact, it was always way out of balance, and there were many times when I would wish that were not the case and that things could be different. I wanted Effie to be like me, to be motivated and excited about making something of himself. He did go out on an audition from time to time, but nothing ever came of it, and he began to talk about giving up acting. Well, I thought, that’s all right. I really didn’t care if he pursued acting or decided to become a butcher or a baker or anything else. I just wanted him to have a career—to have a reason to get up every morning, to feel that he was accomplishing something, and to be able to partner with me in making a living.

  And yet, that was neither to be the case nor a deal breaker, as it would have been to many women. I was always willing to give him a pass. I felt he was very unhappy because things had not worked out the way he had hoped. That didn’t make me resent him; it just made me feel sad for him. I didn’t think I could do anything to change him, and, to be honest, I was far too busy with my career to even bother trying, or to be aware of his increased drinking.

  And so there I was, married to an unmotivated, unfocused, moody drinker, and yet if you had hooked me up to a lie detector and asked me what my home life was like, I would have passed with flying colors by saying it was a good life. It, of course, wasn’t, but in an odd way—a way that became clear to me only many years later—it was the life I wanted. I never would have wanted to be in a weakened position in a relationship, one in which my husband totally took care of me and in which I had no power to do what I wanted to do and make my own decisions. I would have been miserable if I had been with someone who stood in the way of me achieving my dream, and with Effie, that was never an issue.

  He was more than happy to let me be in control of everything and had no problem with my fervent drive, motivation and quest for a career, even if it meant that I was gone a lot. I remember at one point in our marriage, when I was doing a play, which meant I was gone from afternoon until late in the evening, our landlord questioned how I could do that—that is, be away from my husband for such long periods of time. She may not have understood it, but I did, and more importantly to me, Effie did. Crazy as it sounds, the landlady wasn’t fine with it, but Effie and I were.

  I think that while I may not have been really cognizant of it at the time, the reason I was always happy (or at least content) with my life with Effie was that I knew he would never get in my way. And a few years later, when our marriage finally began to crumble and I would feel so horrible about it falling apart, I would remind myself that it had been my decision to pick someone who wouldn’t stand in my way. You chose that for yourself, I would chastise myself. So quit moaning about your marriage not working. You chose it to be that way, didn’t you? It was the way you wanted it to be, wasn’t it?

  And it was the way I wanted it, up until the day I broke a bit of news to my husband that resulted in a response I had never expected: the news that I was pregnant.

  For a month or so, I had kind of suspected that I might be pregnant, but I never said a word to Effie until it was confirmed by my doctor. Once I knew for sure, I was ecstatic, which, just like our polar opposite levels of ambition, was a response at the complete other end of the spectrum from his. Effie wasn’t just unhappy about the prospect of our becoming parents; he was downright devastated and angry.

  “What have you done?” he screamed at me in a rage that was unlike any he had ever displayed before.

  I just kept saying, “It’s okay. It’s okay. Calm down. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of the baby,” which I knew, just like everything else, I would have to.

  But Effie was furious, and when I look back, I believe it was that initial reaction to my being pregnant that, for the first time, made me slowly start to fall out of love with him. If he was devastated by the news that I was pregnant, I was equally devastated by his reaction. I was dealing with feelings of frustration and inadequacy over my career not moving along as quickly as I had hoped, and now, on top of that, I had a husband who was enraged that we were going to have a child.

  While I was completely taken aback, if not downright horrified, at Effie’s reaction to my pregnancy, there was a part of me that felt that he just needed some time to digest and accept it. I had to remind myself I had been pretty much aware that I was pregnant for a while before I had let him know. That awareness began while I was on location at a naval station in Key West, Florida, filming with Cary Grant and Tony Curtis. I was playing the role of a navy nurse who had been stationed on a pink submarine in the film Operation Petticoat. I had missed a period during our first month of filming, and when I missed a second one, I was pretty sure I was pregnant. Still, I wasn’t absolutely sure, and so I didn’t share my suspicions with anyone, until one day, when a scene called for me to do something I wasn’t sure a possibly pregnant woman should be doing, and I revealed my secret to, of all people, Cary Grant.

  We were all supposed to go out to the submarine set and climb down into the sub and also do some underwater scenes. I was nervous about doing that, and as I sat waiting for us to be called to do my scene, I noticed Grant and Curtis talking nearby. After a few minutes Curtis walked away, and Grant, who a few moments earlier had noticed me and waved, came over to say hi.

  “I don’t think I should go down in this sub,” I shyly told him.

  He looked confused, because up to that point, any hesitation to do something adventurous was out of character for me.

  “I think I may be a little bit pregnant,” I said softly.

  Well, the reaction I got from him was certainly no precursor to the one I would receive from Effie. He sat down next to me, put his arm around me, and said sweetly, “You’re pregnant!” and when I looked up at him, he had tears in his eyes. This was years before he married Dyan Cannon and they had their only child, Jennifer, so he was so excited for me, and we had this marvelous moment together. I recall my eyes filling with tears, too, as one of the most handsome and famous movie stars in the world sat holding me and telling me how wonderful it was that I was going to have a baby and that I should just be careful and not exert myself too much while doing the sub scenes.

  Because I wasn’t 100 percent positive I was pregnant, I asked that we keep it as our little secret, and for the remainder of the shoot, he did, while I went on to do the sub scene and whatever else the script and the director called for me to do.

  I really enjoyed being in Florida and working on that film. Both Grant and Curtis were so charming and very nice to me. It was also fun to be working with such a large cast, which included Dina Merrill, who was the Post Cereal heiress, and two young actors who would go on to become stars of popular television shows: Dick Sargent, who replaced Dick York in the role of Darrin Stephens on Bewitched for the show’s last three seasons, and Gavin MacLeod, who played Seaman Joseph “Happy” Haines on McHale’s Navy, news writer Murray Slaughter on The Mary Tyler Moore Show, and Captain Merrill Stubing on The Love Boat.

  Among the memories I have of doing Operation Petticoat are two distinct occasions in which a strong feeling of ambivalence seemed to overtake me. The first came when I was invited to join in with some members of the cast and crew and go out on a boat for a night of fishing. We chartered a boat and arranged for a caterer to deliver all this marvelous food for our nocturnal adventure out in the darkness of the Gulf of Mexico. Janet Leigh, who was married to Tony Curtis at the time, was visiting the set and wanted to go along with us.

  It had been a rather windy day as we prepared for our night at sea, and by the time we left port, the waters of the gulf were really far too rough for a bunch of adventure-seeking landlubbers. Not to be deterred, we shoved off, got an hour or two from port and, in spite of the waves a
nd swells, attempted to do some fishing. That didn’t go as we had anticipated. One by one, we all became so overtaken with seasickness that the plan to reel in some big ones was the only thing cast. Not one fishing line may have been tossed into the water, but the same was not true for the contents of some stomachs. We were all so queasy or outright sick that no one touched even a bite of all that wonderful food we had planned to dig into.

  As the night went on, and we all tried to find our little nooks on board the boat in which we experienced the least amount of rocking, a few of the guys started up a poker game. I remember sitting there watching Janet Leigh, who was just a year older than me. She had joined in the card game and seemed so happy-go-lucky and at ease with the guys. As I watched her win a hand and then lose a hand, the feeling came upon me that, even while I was doing films and television shows with the biggest names in show business, I was still a nobody who didn’t fit in. I had done my best to fit in, while still being respectful of my place in the pecking order, but I constantly felt as if I was way out of my league.

  That feeling made me just as nauseous as the rocking boat and my suspected pregnancy when I, along with just a select group of about twenty people associated with the production, was asked to a small dinner party being thrown by Tony Curtis. I was excited to have been extended an invitation, but I couldn’t get beyond the nagging feeling that I just didn’t belong.

  The party was held on a ship, and when we arrived, Curtis was all decked out in a captain’s uniform and was welcoming his guests aboard. He was handsome and so nice to me, and yet this overwhelming feeling of inadequacy had me in its grip. Maybe it had something to do with some hormonal changes I was experiencing from being pregnant, although I had certainly experienced waves of this same feeling long before I could blame it on that.