The first day I arrived there
I was summoned to see Dory Schary, the executive producer.
I went into his room and immediately became enveloped in
carpet. It was far in excess of anyone's wildest idea of
what a Hollywood producer's office is like. For many miles
I walked trough seas of carpet to reach his desk. Looking
back I have this tortuous vision of a tiny Englishman, buried
to his neck in carpet, looking up at a huge head behind
a massive desk. The head said: "Welcome to California,
Roger." "Thank you , sir", I said. At that
time I had a very bad habit of speaking through my teeth;
probably a throw back to all the Humphrey Bogart and James
Cagney films I'd seen in Streatham. My mouth and jaws locked
completely, especially when I was nervous. I learnt that
the moment I left the office he picked up a phone and said:
"Teach that sonofabitch to speak English." Whereupon
I was whipped off and dumped in front of diction teachers
- with whom I was completely relaxed, so my clenched-teeth
problem didn't apply. "So why are you here?" they
asked. "We're trying to get everyone to speak like
you!" All sorts of people were under contract to M.G.M.
during this time. There was Liz, Stewart Granger, Grace
Kelly...
Ah, Grace Kelly. I was besotted
with her. More so than with Deborah Kerr on the studio set
railway carriage. I recall dinner parties in those days
when I sat next to her totally tongue-tied. Years dissolve
and attitudes change. These days when I got to see her at
the palace in Monaco we often have a good laugh over those
contract days at M.G.M. She remains as sweet as she was
then - when I secretly loved her. Other contract stars then
were Debbie Reynolds, Janet Leigh, Eleanor Parker, Howard
Keel, Esther Williams, Gene Kelly and Vic Damone. To me,
it was absolutely magic to wander round and see all these
people who I felt I knew. They had all come alive from the
screen ath the odeon, Streatham. More telling was that they
treated me as an equal. I was psychologically capable of
living up to the role of being a film actor. But I had difficulty
appreciating that I was one of them.
Then something happened that
looked like not only destroying my career, but me along
with it. I had broken my duck. My first film was behind
me and the future beckoned, full of wondrous promise. Next
they put me in "Interrupted Melody" with Eleanor
Parker and Glenn Ford. This was followed by "The King's
Thief", which was based on the story of Captain Blood,
with Eddie Purdon, Ann Blythe, George Sanders and David
Niven. I didn't know David well then, but he has told me
since that we made he made that picture he was at his lowest
ebb. He had lived it up too well too long and he badly needed
the money. "The King's Thief" was a highly agile
film. Eddie Purdom and myself were highwaymen and we were
forever leaping on and off horses and jumping in and out
of windows. In one scene I had to hurl myself off a wall
onto a horse's back. I did it beautiful, only the horse
moved too far out and I landed on my backside on the cobblestones.
Halfway trough shooting Dory Schary sent for me again. "Roger"
he said in his slow drawl, "in your next picture you
are going to be the star". The film was "Diane"
and Lana Turner was to be my co-star. My name would at last
be going above the title. Thrilled and delighted with myself
I went back to the set and told Eddie Purdom my good news.
what I didn't know was that Eddie had been expecting that
part. Apparently Lana Turner wouldn't work with him. Eddie,
naturally enough, said he wouldn't make the film because
he wouldn't work with Lana. All good pals together!
Next day we have to shoot
a scene where we are supposed to be escaping from the Tower
of London. In it I have to "fall" from a belfry
and swing by a pair of manacles from the top of a ladder.
Suddently it occurs to me that this scene is highly dangerous.
There's a 40-50ft. drop involved and the slightest mistake
on my part and I'd be doing the dropping. For safety they
were going to put a wire on me, so all I could do if I fell
for real was to get a quadruple hernia. I'd be bouncing
like a puppet on a string. The director was Robert Z. Leonard
- "Pop" Leonard - one of Hollywood's most experienced
men. He had been directing in Hollywood since 1904 and had
seen them all, including John Barrymore. He had come out
of retirement to make the film. He told me to have a good
rest and prepare myself for shooting the escape scene next
day. It was a very rough night. I was really very worried
about the scene. I could see the headlines: "Boy on
verge of stardom killed. Falls to death on Hollywood sound
stage." I could see it all. The publicity department
would be delighted because it would help sell the picture.
My eyes still red from lack of sleep I faithfully reported
on the set next morning. As a try-out they fitted the wire
on and took me up an experimental 20 feet. Then I stepped
off a ladder - to the most excruciating agony. They sid
was I all right? And I answered in a strangulated falsetto
and I thought "Omygod, this is the end". Meanwhile
"Pop" Leonard went up to the top of the belfry
to study this shot. Then he returned and walked towards
me. By this time I'm pretty resigned to it. My mouth has
gone dry and the nightmare was going to come true. But this
was the fate, this was destiny. If I wasn't killed - then
I'd be ruined for life. Pop said:"Roger - I've decided
to scrub the shot."
"What do you mean, scrub
the shot?" "I'm just not going to do it."
"Pop", I said, "you realise you've just saved
my life? Here am I on the verge of stardom and you were
going to kill me and you're not". Pop scratched his
head. "Well, to be thruthfull" he said, "I
just couldn't stay up there. It was too high..."
