Twitch Upon a Star (17 page)

“School bored me and I always knew I wanted to be an actress.”

—Elizabeth in
TV Guide
, August 19, 1961

In the core of her
Bewitched
years, Lizzie shared a home in Malibu with her husband Bill Asher and their three children. Years before that business and family foundation was developed and secured, she paved the groundwork for her career. After graduating from finishing school, otherwise known as high school, she attended the American Academy of Dramatic Arts in New York.

According to the October 1953 edition of
People and Pictures
magazine, Robert Montgomery had instructed Lizzie to attend the Academy, and to play summer stock in preparation for a professional career:

Either way, Lizzie attended the Academy, where she befriended Sally Kemp. Like Lizzie, Sally did not attend college, but was a good student. So her mother gave her a choice. She could rise to her debutante ovation, receive an education in Paris, attend Sarah Lawrence College in the States, or enroll at any other upper-crust educational facility that would accept her. She also had the option of attending the Academy in New York. “And as soon as that became a possibility,” Kemp says, “that's where I was going.”

As fate would have it, Sally had already bonded with Panda Cushman, Lizzie's first cousin by way of her Aunt Martha-Bryan. The two had been acquainted in boarding school, and to this day, Sally says Panda remains one of her “closest friends.”

But years before today, near the end of their shared educational tenure, there was Sally's enrollment at the Academy, and Panda was delighted. Lizzie would attend the same school, and Panda encouraged Sally to make the new connection. Shortly thereafter, Sally says she and Elizabeth became instant friends, and sat next to each other in every class.

Once in the fold, certain traditional and universal school laws did not escape the halls of the strict Academy. “We weren't allowed to chew gum or anything like that,” Sally recalls. However, such classic constraints did not prevent her new best friend from playfully breaking the rules. Ever of the avant-garde mindset, Lizzie soon discovered what Sally recalls as “little violet candy, which you can still buy today. They're similar to little lifesavers, but they smelled like perfume.”

While in class at the Academy, the then teen girls would keep that smelly candy moist in their mouths, and not in their hands. “We figured nobody would know it was candy,” Sally intones.

At the time, the Academy was still located at Carnegie Hall. Classes were held in different studios, and large portraits of great actors and opera singers, who were either alumni or present teachers, donned the walls of each studio, which they rented to teach classes.

“Elizabeth was always a bit more rebellious,” Sally admits. When it came to rambunctious scheming to while away the hours, Lizzie would take the lead. “This is what we have to do,” she'd tell Sally, and they would commence one exciting endeavor after another.

One especially adventurous day, Lizzie had a particular plan in mind. “As soon as we break for lunch,” she told Sally, “I have found a way to get into the balcony of Carnegie Hall through a special door.”

Sure enough, when the clock struck twelve, the two brave young souls journeyed through that secret passageway and, once on the other side, they came across none other than the one and only musical maestro, Arturo Toscanini, rehearsing with his famous orchestra.

In time, the two young women would sit mesmerized before the music master on a near-daily basis. “And of course, we would also be late for class,” muses Sally, the daughter of the famous bandleader Hal Kemp who, in 1940, was voted along with Glenn Miller and Tommy Dorsey as one of the top three dance bands in America (although, tragically, Hal was killed that year by a drunk driver on his way to play an engagement at the Coconut Grove).

So, whenever the opportunity arose, the daring duo of Lizzie and Sally would sneak away through that secret door to that hall of Toscanini, whom Sally says they perceived as “a very little man.”

One afternoon, however, a sour note was heard in the massive musical camp of the tiny Toscanini who became displeased with an orchestra member's performance. As Lizzie and Sally stared from the dark trenches, Toscanini halted his ensemble, pointed to the unfortunate musician in question, shouted in Italian something they assumed was quite derogatory, took his baton, broke it in two, tossed it across the room, and marched off the stage. As Sally remembers it, the mischievous Lizzie then whispered to her asking, “Ok, what's gonna happen now?”

Finally, one of the violinists in the orchestra deadpanned, “I think we're breaking for lunch.”

“It was all such fun to watch,” Sally chortles. “And Elizabeth and I would do things like that all the time.”

A kinder, gentler
Thelma and Louise
of their day, the dynamic twosome of Lizzie and Sally would later become a daring trio, when they befriended yet another young classmate at the Academy named Jarmila Daubek. Jarmila was the daughter of Czech baron George Daubek and Jarmila Novotna, the celebrated Czech soprano and actress who, from 1945 to 1956, was a star of the Metropolitan Opera. According to Sally, both Jarmilas were extremely attractive, but the younger Jarmila, the close chum to both girls, “was even more beautiful.”

“She arrived at the Academy a few days after Elizabeth and I did,” Sally explains. “But as soon as we caught sight of her, well, we both shrank. She was taller than we were. She had stunning chestnut hair, and the most beautiful skin we had ever seen, along with these huge brown eyes. She was just exquisite.”

“We have to make friends with her,” Sally remembers Lizzie saying.

When Sally wondered why, Lizzie mused, “Because she's prettier than we are, and we have to keep her on our side.”

But according to Sally, Jarmila had a gentle disposition, and was embarrassed when people found out that she was a baroness.

Just as when a shy Lizzie during these Academy days never touted herself as the daughter of a famous movie star, or as when years later on the
Bewitched
set, she remained accessible to the cast and production team. As the show's star, she could have easily adopted a condescending approach, but instead took the high road, discouraging brass and presumption. She may have lacked confidence at times, but she was replete with courage and conviction. She was equally cool and self-reliant. She embraced every opportunity to shock with subtlety those who may have felt even the slightest intimidation by her heritage or very presence.

Case in point: a certain fellow classmate at the Academy named Florence Henderson who would also later become a classic TV icon by way of an ABC sitcom. Henderson played mom
Carol Brady
on
The Brady Bunch
, which debuted in the Fall of 1969,
Bewitched's
sixth season (the year Dick Sargent replaced Dick York as
Darrin
).

“She had a beautiful singing voice,” Sally says of the multitalented and ever-youthful Henderson who, when Lizzie and Sally knew her, was set to audition for the 1952 Broadway musical,
Wish You Were Here
, which was an adaptation of
Having Wonderful Time
(both of which were directed by Josh Logan). “But the show's producers needed to see how she would look in a bathing suit.”

So, their fellow classmate Candi Parsons lent Florence swimwear from her wardrobe. Now outfitted with the perfect look, the future
Mrs. Brady
went on to win the part. Billed as “the new girl” in
Wish You Were Here
(which also featured Jack Cassidy, Tom Tryon, Phyllis Newman, Reid Shelton, and Frank Aletter, Lizzie's co-star from
Mr. Lucifer
), Florence enjoyed a healthy run of 598 performances in the show.

Years after they graduated from the Academy Florence, as opposed to Lizzie, seemed more at peace with the sitcom character that brought her fame. While Florence would continue the role of
Carol Brady
in countless
Bunch
sequels, Lizzie literally began to fight her way out of her most recognizable TV persona with very non-
Samantha
roles, post-
Bewitched
, in TV-movies like
A Case of Rape
, (NBC, 1974),
A Killing Affair
(CBS, 1977; with O. J. Simpson), or
Act of Violence
(CBS, 1979). She'd come to terms with playing
Samantha
only decades after she first played the role. “But she was a terrific actress and a fascinating person,” Henderson intones.

The
Brady
TV parent also thought the
Bewitched
star must have been “a wonderful mom” in real life, which she decided after meeting Rebecca Asher, Lizzie's daughter. Though Florence never appeared on
Bewitched
, she did a guest spot on another high-concept ABC comedy titled
Samantha Who?
on which Rebecca was hired as script supervisor. “She was lovely, and we had some wonderful talks,” she concludes.

When Lizzie attended New York's American Academy of Dramatic Arts it was a breeding ground for future stars-in-the-making. Past graduates included the likes of Grace Kelly (who would ultimately leave Hollywood and become Princess Grace of Monaco) and Anne Baxter (who played royalty of a whole other kind in 1965's classic film
The Ten Commandments
).

There were additional students of the Academy and other similar institutions who paid tuition with funding from, for example, their G.I. Bill, namely actor James Arness. A contemporary of Lizzie's, Arness would later become a legendary TV star in his own right, taking the lead in
Gunsmoke
(CBS, 1955–1975) on which Lizzie's brother Skip ultimately made his TV debut. Meanwhile, too, Arness was brother to another soon-to-be-popular actor, Peter Graves, future star of
Mission: Impossible
on CBS, 1966–1973/ABC, 1989–1990. In either case, Arness utilized his military assistance to join an acting program at the Bliss-Hayden Theatre, a small established theatre school in Lizzie's future city of Beverly Hills (where he was ultimately discovered by an agent).

Other Academy graduates would periodically assemble for training or observation purposes, sometimes even after they graduated. As Sally Kemp recalls, one day in the green room there prowled a certain young charismatic man who left a year or so before she, Lizzie, and Jarmila. “But he was always lurking around there.”

Many of the thespian alumni would “make the rounds” following graduation, she says. “In those days, you could do that.” It was one of many traditions that allowed for aspiring actors to pay random first visits to producers' offices. “I never had the courage to do that. But it was possible.”

“We were more privileged than many of the other students,” Sally says of the fortunate young life she shared with Lizzie and Jarmila. “There were those who had worked for years as waiters and waitresses to make money in order to attend the Academy.”

In any case, the newfound male dramatic arts alumnus who frequently concealed himself and his perceptions in the distance was just about to spark Sally Kemp's interest.

During his periodic peeks from inside the Academy green room, the relatively new graduate remained clandestine and silent until one day, when he stopped Sally and said, quite unabatedly, “You're one of the three graces, aren't you?”

Sally was flustered and a little annoyed.

“Yeah,” the young man affirmed. “You, Montgomery, and the baroness—we call you the three graces.”

Now flattered and somewhat embarrassed at how she and her dear friends were perceived by a few of their former, present, and maybe even some future schoolmates, Sally said, “Oh … well, that's lovely. Thank you so much.” Then added, “But who are you?”

“My name is John Cassavetes,” the young man answered.

“How do you do,” she replied in turn. “I'm Sally Kemp.”

Almost urgently, she then walked away, and thought sadly, “That boy's just never going to amount to anything. He's always in the green room.”

She was dead wrong, of course, as the young Cassavetes would go on to become one of the greatest actors and directors of their generation. In the article, “A Second Look: John Cassavetes' Touch is Clear in ‘Too Late Blues'” by Dennis Lim, Special to the
Los Angeles Times
, May 27, 2012, Cassavetes was dubbed “the original Method actor turned DIY [do-it-yourself] filmmaker.” As Lim went on to explain, “For that reason his early forays into studio directing … 1961's
Too Late Blues
for Paramount and 1963's Stanley Kramer-produced
A Child Is Waiting
for United Artists—are usually thought of as footnotes at best, or compromised failures at worst (a view that has been ascribed to Cassavetes himself).”

Before dying too young at fifty-nine in 1989, he was featured in a list of celebrated big and small screen appearances. Those included the occult theatrical film,
Rosemary's Baby
, about an evil coven of witches, which was released in 1968. The latter part of that year also marked the fifth hit season of
Bewitched
, two episodes of which (“The Battle of Burning Oak” and “
Samantha's
Shopping Spree”) made a reference to
Rosemary's Baby
, which also happened to feature Maurice Evans.