Hollywood Madonna (41 page)

While she was in Lourdes, Loretta received an urgent call from her agent, Norman Brokow, telling her that Proctor & Gamble would not sponsor a show about a subject whose main appeal was to Catholics. Fortified by a “God will provide” philosophy, she went ahead with the shoot. Meanwhile, Brokow managed to come up with two new sponsors: Toni, the leading manufacturer of home beauty products, and the equally well-known mouthwash, Listerine. Loretta knew her mission would continue: What was the difference between detergents, home permanents, and oral antiseptics? To her, they were all part of God’s plan. Proctor & Gamble may have regretted its decision when “The Road” proved so popular that it was repeated the following year on 10 April 1960. By then, Lewislor was history; the company had been renamed Toreto Enterprises.

The change of company and sponsor extended the run of
The Loretta Young Show
to 1961. But television was changing. Anthology series were no longer in vogue.
Alfred Hitchcock Presents
, which premiered in 1960, may have seemed like an anthology show with Hitchcock’s familiar “things-are-not-what-they-seem” tales. But the teleplays—macabre,
slyly cynical, and sometimes ghoulish—were not aimed primarily at a female audience. Hitchcock evidenced no favoritism; even seasoned moviegoers must have been surprised when a perpetrator seemed to get away with murder, only to hear Hitchcock appear at the end to explain that the character got his or her comeuppance—but using such a tongue-in-cheek delivery that only a self-righteous literalist would believe it. Loretta had her audience, and the Master had his. His show lasted longer.

Even with the end of
The Loretta Young Show
, Loretta had no intention of abandoning television. She was now approaching fifty; if she returned to movies, she would have been labeled over-the-hill, at best a character actress or a grotesque in neo-horror films like
Whatever Happened to Baby Jane
?,
Straight-Jacket
(1964), and
The Nanny
(1965)
.
Television offered longevity, but Loretta needed a new format—not an anthology series but a sitcom. Loretta was not meant for a sitcom, much less one with herself as a widow with seven children. She must have believed in the concept, and some of the old team felt similarly. Producer John London, associate producer and story editor Ruth Roberts, and Toni stayed on. Loretta needed another sponsor and found one in Lever Brothers, a detergents and soap (Lifebuoy, Dove, Lever 2000) manufacturer. Loretta also acquired a new network, CBS, and a new day, Monday. The time slot remained the same: 10:00 p.m.–10:30 p.m.

Loretta was determined to make
The New Loretta Young Show
every bit as successful as her anthology series. Her character was a magazine writer, Christine Massey. Making Massey a widow with kids might have worked if Loretta had an antic side like Lucille Ball or a flair for screwball like Jean Arthur and Irene Dunne. The show should have been the flip side of
My Three Sons
, in which Fred MacMurray played a widower raising three boys by himself. That sitcom endeared itself to audiences and lasted a record twelve years, 1960–72. Part of the show’s charm lay in MacMurray’s ability to look befuddled, bemused, and even a bit pixilated at times—overwhelmed but never overcome by an ever-expanding household.
The New Loretta Young Show
needed a touch of the antic, but Loretta only seemed able to reveal her screwball self on radio; when she tried in film, notably in
A Night to Remember
, she simply seemed uncomfortable. Loretta wanted the show to appeal to children, particularly teenagers and their parents, but making five of Christine’s children girls was hardly conducive to variety.

Perhaps the solution lay in the casting. The right child actors would give the show plausibility, freeing Loretta for episodes in which she would alternate between dealing with their problems and being courted
by her editor, adding a romantic dimension and making the series more palatable to those who were put off by the star-as-widow concept. Thus Loretta was determined to get the perfect septet. All the children had excellent credentials. Portland Mason (Marnie), the daughter of James Mason and his then wife, Pamela, had done theatre and television. Beverly Washburn (Vickie) appeared in such movies as
Hans Christian Andersen
(1952) and
Shane
(1953), as well as on television’s
Playhouse 90
,
General Electric Theatre
, and
Professional Father
. The sixteen-year-old Sandy Descher (Judy) started in the business when she was six and had built up an impressive résumé that included
The June Allyson Show
,
General Electric Theatre
, and
I Led Three Lives.
Carol Sykes (Binkie) appeared on major sitcoms such as
Father Knows Best
,
Leave It to Beaver
, and
The Donna Reed Show
. Tracy Stratford (Maria) made her acting debut in the film
The Miracle of the Bells
(1948) and went on to television, where she was featured in
The Twilight Zone
,
Kraft Mystery Theatre
,
Bonanza
, and
Ben Casey.
Either Loretta or her writers thought that having two twin sons—twins being a perennial source of humor in comedies about mistaken identity (Plautus’s
Menaechmi
, Shakespeare’s
The Comedy of Errors
and
Twelfth Night
)—would make
The New Loretta Young Show
different from the traditional sitcom. Finding twins who were teenage actors, was a tall order, which producer John London filled by casting two actual twins, Dirk and Dack Rambo, ranch hands with no acting experience, in the parts. Except for the Rambos, Loretta had assembled a cast of young professionals.

One of the actresses did not live up to Loretta’s expectations; the actress’s mother thought otherwise. Loretta should have anticipated problems from Portland Mason’s mother, Pamela, formerly Pamela Kellino and the wife of the honey-voiced actor, James Mason. Portland was a child of privilege, the prototypical “daddy’s little girl.” Mason doted on his daughter, and stories circulated that she had her first designer gown at four, diamonds at six, and a mink at seven. Mason was convinced Portland could be an actress and had her cast in two of his films,
Bigger Than Life
(1956) and
Cry Terror
(1958). Just before
The New Loretta Young Show
was ready for filming, Mason walked out on his wife, which led to an ugly divorce in 1964.

Although James was out of the picture, Pamela was very much in it. She was a fame seeker who achieved some success with her syndicated shows,
The Pamela Mason Show
and
The Weaker (?) Sex.
She had the kind of acerbic wit that passed for urbanity and appealed to viewers with a taste for mordant humor.

Loretta was no match for Pamela Mason, who wanted a career for her daughter and headlines—or at least celebrity—for herself. When Loretta decided to replace Portland, Pamela retaliated, branding Loretta “a dictator …
shouting orders
, running around … and doing all manners of things which don’t match with her saintly soul.” The most damning charge was Pamela’s refusal to buy her daughter’s wardrobe from the dress store owned by Loretta’s half sister, Georgianna. Portland, however, believed that the reason for her dismissal was Loretta’s fear that the Masons’ marital problems would escalate into divorce and impact negatively on the show. Nothing would stand in the way of Loretta’s achieving another record run for her new show, even a child actress. To Loretta, it was all very simple: Portland must be replaced.

Loretta, ever gracious, sent a note to Portland: “
Dear Portland
—I shall miss you very much.” The note was merely a gesture of propriety, the equivalent of a bread-and-butter letter after a dismal dinner party. Determined to keep her name and her daughter’s media-fresh, Pamela slapped Loretta with a $138,000 lawsuit, with Portland as plaintiff. Loretta never expected such a brouhaha over a dismissal. But Pamela used the incident to tarnish Loretta’s angelic reputation, occasioning a damning headline in the
Los Angeles Times
(3 August 1962 C14): “Is Loretta Young Image Blurred?” It was not so much blurred as questioned, with Loretta emerging as a saint with a tarnished halo.

Historically, even saints have stepped out of the celestial spotlight, casting a dark shadow that makes them more human than statue. St. Martha was jealous of Christ’s preference for the company of her sister, Mary; Peter Celestine was a papal misfit who ended up being canonized; the mother of the apostles James and John believed her sons should sit on either side of Christ’s heavenly throne, and they thought so, too. Even Christ had a temper: When he saw oxen, sheep, and doves being sold in the temple of Jerusalem, he made a whip of cords and lashed the sellers out of the temple, overturning the tables of the money changers in the process (John 2: 13–16), Hollywood’s Catholic elite often appeared without their nimbus. Bing Crosby was an indifferent father and an uncaring husband to his first wife, Dixie. His portrayal of Father O’Malley in both
Going My Way
(1944) and
The Bells of St. Mary’s
(1945) was a testimonial to his acting ability; he was certainly not playing himself. Rosalind Russell railed at Jerome Lawrence and Robert E. Lee for converting her stage hit,
Auntie Mame
, into a musical with Angela Lansbury—as if Russell, with her four good notes, could negotiate Jerry Herman’s lush score.
Spencer Tracy was an alcoholic who remained faithful to his wife while continuing in a relationship with Katharine Hepburn that may just have been platonic, although few thought so. Frank Sinatra returned to the fold and was buried from the Church of the Good Shepherd, although he was hardly an exemplary Catholic. And Loretta, as we know, had her “mortal sin.” Only Joan Leslie and Irene Dunne were seemingly above reproach.

Catholicism, however, had no bearing on Loretta’s decision to countersue for $100,000, charging Portland with failing to fulfill her contractual obligations by not supplying a proper wardrobe. The case attracted attention because of its unusual nature: a sixteen-year-old actress suing a movie star pushing fifty.
Nothing dramatic happened
until 5 April 1965, when Jack Murton, Toreto’s casting director, collapsed in the aisle after leaving the witness stand. Loretta bolted from her seat and rushed over, knowing that he carried nitroglycerine tablets for his heart condition. Fumbling around in his jacket, Loretta located them and pressed one under his tongue, but to no avail. Murton was rushed to Santa Monica Hospital, where he died.
The case was resolved
less than two weeks later in Portland’s favor. However, she was not awarded $138,000, but only $2,800. Loretta’s countersuit was dismissed.

In 1965,
The New Loretta Young Show
was, if anything, a footnote in television history. Even if Loretta relented and allowed Portland to continue on the show, it would have done nothing for Portland’s career, just as it did nothing for the career of Celia Kaye, the actress who replaced her. Both continued to work, with Portland even appearing in Oscar Wilde’s
A Woman of No Importance
in London’s West End. Sadly, Portland’s career was cut short by her death from a stroke in 2004 at the age of fifty-five. Celia Kaye had a more extensive résumé, with appearances on such series as
Little House on the Prairie
,
The Young Lawyers
, and
The Green Hornet
, in addition to a few movies, none of which led to a major career. But at least the two had a life after Loretta.

If Loretta overreacted or became abusive on the set, it was mainly because she was uncomfortable with the sitcom format. With
The Loretta Young Show
, she was on home ground, starring in the equivalent of half-hour movies with a different script each week. Sitcom was terra incognita. If Loretta’s story editor and producer believed that viewers would be interested in watching her interact with a bunch of kids as they waited for her to do a star turn in another episode, they must have thought otherwise after the ratings, which were so dismal that the sponsors terminated the show after twenty-six weeks. In the final episode,
Christine married her editor, leaving faithful viewers, few though they were, with the hope that a future series about a writer and editor couple would emerge from the wreckage. It did not. What
The New Loretta Young Show
proved was that audiences wanted Loretta neat, not with children on the side.

Loretta’s television career was not entirely over. She would return for two hour-long television dramas—the first in 1986, at seventy-three; the second, three years later.

CHAPTER 22
A New Life

Despite the failure of
The New Loretta Young Show
to repeat the success of the first series, Loretta had not given up on either television or film. In the 1960s, Hollywood’s drama queens of yesteryear, eager to continue working, accepted roles requiring them to play grotesques (Bette Davis in
Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?
,
The Nanny
); women entrapped and terrorized by punks (Olivia de Havilland in
Lady in a Cage
), or tormented by relatives (Bette Davis by cousin Olivia de Havilland in
Hush … Hush, Sweet Charlotte
; Joan Crawford by sister Davis in
Baby Jane
, and by daughter Diane Baker in
Strait-Jacket
). Strange as it seems, Loretta was thinking of joining the dark sisterhood.

The phenomenal success of
Baby Jane
, legitimized by an Oscar nomination for Davis, led to another film in which Davis and Crawford would costar, this time with Davis as victim, and Crawford as victimizer. The film became Twentieth Century-Fox’s
Hush … Hush, Sweet Charlotte
(1964), with Davis, but not Crawford, who came down with pneumonia and canceled. Barbara Stanwyck and Loretta were rumored to be possible replacements. Loretta’s would have been the better performance, since her character was a woman of charm and poise with an agenda that is only revealed at the end. Basically, she wants to get Davis, her cousin, institutionalized, not knowing that she is not as loony as she seems. Understandably, Fox thought of Loretta for the role of a woman who concealed her malevolence behind a saintly façade. Loretta had never played such a character; after reading the script, she decided she never would: “I don’t believe in horror stories for women.” Yet it would have been a good role for Loretta, giving her an opportunity to step out of the starlight and into the dark of the moon.