began crying.
While he was directing Elmer Gantry , Brooks went too far. He suddenly swore viciously at one of the crew. Outraged, the crew member took revenge on Brooks the next day, deliberately running his car over Brooks’s foot. Brooks was rushed to the hospital, but even so, he didn’t modify his treatment of his cast and crew one iota. That was the Richard Brooks who held my career in the palm of his muscular hands.
Burt Lancaster had prevailed on Brooks to meet me, so there I was one Saturday at the studio in Hollywood, after having flown down from San Francisco, where Jack and I were playing at the Fairmont.
I’ll never forget that first harrowing interview with him. I wore a tight, white dress so that he could see my figure. He grilled me for an hour and a half. All the time, he was sprawled on a couch, his face turned away from me, while he sucked on his pipe and barked questions at me, which I attempted to answer to the best of my ability.
Then he handed me the pages of the script in which Lulu Bains was featured, as opposed to the script as a whole. Richard Brooks never allowed any of the actors in his movies to see the complete script, only the pages covering their part.
Fortunately, following Burt Lancaster’s advice, I had already read the novel, by Sinclair Lewis, so I knew the story and my character. I went out in the corridor, read the pages Brooks had given me, then went in again and cleared my throat, expecting to start reading my part and auditioning.
Before I did, I made a speech to Richard Brooks, declaring my passion for Elmer Gantry : “I’d play the part for nothing, Mr. Brooks.”
But instead of letting me read the script for him, Brooks waved me aside. “So do you think you could play Lulu?” he barked.
I said I thought I could.
Then he dismissed me. I went home in tears, convinced that Richard Brooks definitely didn’t want me to play the part. My opinion was buttressed the following morning when word came back to me that Brooks hadn’t thought much of me and had no intention of casting me in the role.
But Burt Lancaster wasn’t giving in, and faced with his star power and persistence, Richard Brooks finally capitulated and the part was mine.
Knowing that I was far from the flavor du jour in the eyes of Richard Brooks, Burt strongly advised me to be on set from day one. As Brooks shot in sequence, and my scene came toward the end of the movie, I had ample opportunity to observe him directing. As I did, although I was hugely intimidated by him, he ultimately won my admiration. But that didn’t mean he would reciprocate.
My first day of filming Elmer Gantry proved to be the biggest challenge of my career. Richard Brooks had personally chosen my costume: a slip that partially revealed my breasts, but not so much as to inflame the censors. I was extremely nervous, but due to Burt, I was also well prepared for the scene.
Through the years since I made Elmer Gantry , I’ve often been asked if I researched my part, as the deacon’s daughter turned prostitute, by going to a house of prostitution and talking to the ladies there. I didn’t think I needed to go that far. I knew all about prostitutes because Jack had introduced me to some of them, ex-girlfriends of his who had moved from prostitution to acting for a living. So by the time I was to shoot the first scene, which took place in a house of prostitution, I was primed to play my part.
Nonetheless, that first scene proved to be the hardest scene I’ve ever shot in my life. In that scene I tell the other prostitutes all about the traveling salesman turned evangelical minister Elmer Gantry, what he did to me, and how I came to be working in the house: “Oh, he gave me special instructions back of the pulpit. He got to howlin’, ‘Repent! Repent!’ and I got to moanin’, ‘Save me! Save me!’ and the first thing I know he rammed the fear of God in me so fast I never heard my old man’s footsteps.”
That line
While he was directing Elmer Gantry , Brooks went too far. He suddenly swore viciously at one of the crew. Outraged, the crew member took revenge on Brooks the next day, deliberately running his car over Brooks’s foot. Brooks was rushed to the hospital, but even so, he didn’t modify his treatment of his cast and crew one iota. That was the Richard Brooks who held my career in the palm of his muscular hands.
Burt Lancaster had prevailed on Brooks to meet me, so there I was one Saturday at the studio in Hollywood, after having flown down from San Francisco, where Jack and I were playing at the Fairmont.
I’ll never forget that first harrowing interview with him. I wore a tight, white dress so that he could see my figure. He grilled me for an hour and a half. All the time, he was sprawled on a couch, his face turned away from me, while he sucked on his pipe and barked questions at me, which I attempted to answer to the best of my ability.
Then he handed me the pages of the script in which Lulu Bains was featured, as opposed to the script as a whole. Richard Brooks never allowed any of the actors in his movies to see the complete script, only the pages covering their part.
Fortunately, following Burt Lancaster’s advice, I had already read the novel, by Sinclair Lewis, so I knew the story and my character. I went out in the corridor, read the pages Brooks had given me, then went in again and cleared my throat, expecting to start reading my part and auditioning.
Before I did, I made a speech to Richard Brooks, declaring my passion for Elmer Gantry : “I’d play the part for nothing, Mr. Brooks.”
But instead of letting me read the script for him, Brooks waved me aside. “So do you think you could play Lulu?” he barked.
I said I thought I could.
Then he dismissed me. I went home in tears, convinced that Richard Brooks definitely didn’t want me to play the part. My opinion was buttressed the following morning when word came back to me that Brooks hadn’t thought much of me and had no intention of casting me in the role.
But Burt Lancaster wasn’t giving in, and faced with his star power and persistence, Richard Brooks finally capitulated and the part was mine.
Knowing that I was far from the flavor du jour in the eyes of Richard Brooks, Burt strongly advised me to be on set from day one. As Brooks shot in sequence, and my scene came toward the end of the movie, I had ample opportunity to observe him directing. As I did, although I was hugely intimidated by him, he ultimately won my admiration. But that didn’t mean he would reciprocate.
My first day of filming Elmer Gantry proved to be the biggest challenge of my career. Richard Brooks had personally chosen my costume: a slip that partially revealed my breasts, but not so much as to inflame the censors. I was extremely nervous, but due to Burt, I was also well prepared for the scene.
Through the years since I made Elmer Gantry , I’ve often been asked if I researched my part, as the deacon’s daughter turned prostitute, by going to a house of prostitution and talking to the ladies there. I didn’t think I needed to go that far. I knew all about prostitutes because Jack had introduced me to some of them, ex-girlfriends of his who had moved from prostitution to acting for a living. So by the time I was to shoot the first scene, which took place in a house of prostitution, I was primed to play my part.
Nonetheless, that first scene proved to be the hardest scene I’ve ever shot in my life. In that scene I tell the other prostitutes all about the traveling salesman turned evangelical minister Elmer Gantry, what he did to me, and how I came to be working in the house: “Oh, he gave me special instructions back of the pulpit. He got to howlin’, ‘Repent! Repent!’ and I got to moanin’, ‘Save me! Save me!’ and the first thing I know he rammed the fear of God in me so fast I never heard my old man’s footsteps.”
That line
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