The penny dropped this way
for Tony Curtis when Sir Lew Grade and I explained to him
the kind of potential audience The Persuaders! could
get. He had never been involved with TV before and it was
almost a revelation for him to discover this simple truism.
One can make a film that's a box office hit throughout the
world. And it still won't be seen by as many people as see
television. I was in a good position to see this change
of emphasis take place in the movie picture industry. As
almost one of the last contract stars under the old Hollywood
system, I was able to gauge better than most what was going
on. The way they made films for the Streatham Odeon was
a dying business. The way films were going to be made was
the proverbial phoenix from the ashes. But the way the major
studios were ignoring the existence of television was like
America pretending China didn't exist (until ping-pong came
along). In 1956 I left Hollywood and spent two days in London
before being called back to New York. This was something
special. It was for a TV two-hour spectacular with Noel
Coward. I had been warned that Coward expected actors working
with him to know their lines before they turned up for rehearsal.
During the six-hour flight I made myself word perfect and
I was fully primed by the time of the first runthrough.
Coward was all the things they said. He's way ahead of any
other living performer. We had some marvellous chats together.
He told me one should cut half and inch off one's hair for
every year one's life. That enabled you to stay young and
trendy. Which worked fine for me until the long-hair fashion
came in and no I suppose I have to grow an extra half inch
for every year. If I were honest my hair would be down to
my feet.
He also told me to accept
everything that is offered. "The moment you are not
working, you are not an actor", he said. And if you
are offeres two jobs at once don't take the one with the
larger part, take the one with the larger money. One tip
I have lived by since I met Coward. He told me to forget
long-winked diet schemes. "Eat and drink what you like
until you are overweight", he said. "Then starve
yourself until you're back to where you should be".
My God, the man's right. It's the only way for a potential
fatty like me to live. Enjoy yourself and then take it easy.
I learnt something else from my encounter with Coward. The
two producers, Lance Hamilton and Charles Russell, advised
me to have my name taken off the credits above the title.
Have your name under the title, they said. My contract said
my name should be above the title and I didn't see any reason
to concede it. They pointed out how foolish I would be to
put myself on the same plane as someone like Coward. But
I was under the title the viewers would be pleasantly surprised
and the critics would respond. I took their advice and it
worked. I had excellent notices. Coward was very funny.
He came to me after the reviews, sniffed and said: "You
damned scene-stealer". Back in London I did an out-of-town
run of "The Family Tree" by Richard Buckle at
Worthing. It was an unknow cast apart from myself and Elspeth
March. I shared a dressing room with a young lad doing his
first season - Daniel Massey, who was later to play the
part of Noel Coawrd in the film "Star!".
Columbia hired me next to
the television series of Ivanhoe. With the typical
timing of the motion picture industry they started shooting
the interior shots at Elstree, and because there were no
leaves on the trees in England we had to go over to California
to do external location shots. Bob Brown played in that
series. He has to become a close friend and is godfather
to both my children. If you remember the series, in the
opening sequence there is a parrot perched on a young lad's
shoulders. The idea was that the perrot should fly off the
boy's shouders. Only the parrot wasn't having any. They
even tied a string to its leg to give it a little jerk and
make it take off. It didn't even bother to open its wings
and with idle disdain allowed itself to plummed into the
ground where it stuck beak-first.
After California the unit
moved to England where we took up residence at Beaconsfield
Studios. This was 1957 and we stayed there a year churning
out Ivanhoes. It was great fun doing that series.
I felt as though I was being paid to play like a kid. But
about three-quarters of the way through the series I went
into a fit of deep depression. There was still the feeling
around that to do television was the kiss of death to a
film actor. I couldn't see much of a future in films for
me any more. The film industry was dead, wasn't it? Then
again. I wasn't getting very far playing at being Ivanhoe
either. Then I got a brilliant idea; and what a strange
twist of fate there was wrapped up in it. Guess what my
idea was. I wanted to buy for myself the rights to do a
television serial on a character created by author Leslie
Charteris. A fellow called "The Saint". But Charteris
wasn't interested in selling so that was the end of my bright
idea. I had a slight row with Columbia, who told me if I
didn't behave myself they'd cast me as a monster in a horror
film. It was at that timeI had the offer to do "The
Miracle" for Warners and Columbia released me. Once
again I said farewell to Dorothy - who was busy enough with
her own engagements anyway - and went back to Hollywood.
After "The Miracle" I did my most appalling television
series ever. This was The Alaskans, set in Alaska
at the time of the Gold Rush. Only we never went to Alaska
to make it. They built Alaska on the studio lot in California,
sprinkled it with dried salt and white corn flakes and there
we were, snowbound. You can imagine dashing around in thick,
heavy furs and gloves, pretending to be icy cold - while
the Californian sun is gently turning you into fried meat.
