The Books: “By Myself and Then Some” (Lauren Bacall)

NextDaily Book Excerpt: Entertainment Biography/Memoir:

By Myself and Then Some, by Lauren Bacall

This is an expanded and updated version of Lauren Bacall’s first autobiography By Myself (excerpt here). We’ve got more photos (some really great ones), more anecdotes, more detail … I suppose as one gets older, one sometimes remembers more about the past. Whether or not it is all true and accurate and fact-checkable is not really relevant. Bacall goes deep into the past, remembering her childhood in New York in the 30s, the shoes, the cigarettes, the smells she remembers, conversations she had … We have the same stories about meeting Bogart, only more detail. She incorporates material from her second autobiography Now (excerpt here) and then moves on to the present – with her comeback, starting with her Oscar nomination for her touching wonderful performance in the abysmal The Mirror Has Two Faces. She hadn’t had a part like that in a long time. And to see her in that film, no makeup, unglamorous … for a woman of that age, and that reputation … it was something else. I thought she was terrific. She had always worked, although more in the theatre in the 70s and 80s than on screen – but suddenly, she was in hot properties again, things that got notice: Dogville, Birth … She was seen on red carpets, she’s BFF with Nicole Kidman. Good for Betty Bacall. Her “sunset” years have not been a descent into obscurity. She has just gotten more and more parts, which is rare indeed. By Myself and Then Some covers all of that.

I also love the pissed-off title. I relate to it. She’s alone, she’s lonely. She wishes for a mate. She divorced Jason Robards in 1969 and since then? She’s quite open about her loneliness in all of her books, how she longs for that man beside her, someone to be her companion, helpmate, whatever. At the end of Now, she wonders if it will ever happen for her again, if she will ever find another man. 10 years later, she publishes a book called By Myself and Then Some. It makes me laugh. I know how you feel, Lauren. I really do.

While By Myself and Then Some is full of so many showbiz anecdotes that Hollywood-lore crack addicts like myself will be kept happy and satiated for years to come, I wanted to pick an excerpt from her early years, before she was famous. (I mean, she became an international sensation at age 19, so there’s not much time to look at the non-famous years!) One of the reasons I love memoirs and biographies of famous actors is because of those “early years” sections. I love watching how they formulated their dreams for themselves. I love reading about any “A ha!” moments they might have had. I love watching the dawning of the passion that will rule their whole lives. It’s also exciting to read about those moments when people realize: You know what? I’m GOOD at this!

Lauren Bacall was a skinny flat-chested teenager, living with her mother in New York. She went to dancing classes and singing classes, and did some modeling, although she never felt she was any good. It was acting that turned her on. She pounded the pavement. She worked as an usher in a Broadway theatre (and actually was so striking that she got a mention in a review of a play … THAT’S star quality!), she sat around at lunch counters with other actors, hearing about auditions, running around town, reading for this part, that part. Again, Lauren Bacall didn’t struggle for long. It was a magazine cover she nailed that got the attention of Hollywood and Howard Hawks in particular, and she never had to play a bit part in a movie (unlike Ms. Marilyn Monroe, and so many others) – she never had to suffer on the sidelines … Hawks pushed right to center stage. Bacall’s story is unique. So many people were put under personal contract and we never hear anything about them. So many of “Howard Hughes’ girls” kept on retainer were just foolish teenagers who were a 1940s version of Coco from Fame (that awful scene). Lauren Bacall was picked by the right director at the right time. He did not squander her. He did not take advantage of her. He was very very careful in the first thing he put her in, and who he put her against (Bogart). And when his little creation began behaving in a way he did not approve (falling in love with Bogart), emotionally Howard Hawks cut off from her. He was DONE with her, very pissed off. An interesting Pygmalion relationship there. He felt he created her, and he felt that falling in love was a useless waste of her energy – she should be focusing on creating her mystique, remaining separate, working on her craft … But to quote the end of What’s Up, Doc: “Listen, kiddo, ya can’t fight a tidal wave.”

But I wanted to choose an excerpt today that was from Bacall’s early years in New York, taking classes, modeling, hoping … for something to happen to her.

Oh, and I also find it interesting (and she has spoken a lot about this) that she has terrible debilitating stage fright. She trembles uncontrollably. Her head shakes (she mentions becoming aware of it on her first day of shooting To Have and Have Not) … her hand trembles … it is beyond her control. The “tricks” she performs on herself, to just allow herself to be up there in front of people (head down, chin down, arm down … ) – are extraordinary, I admire the smart-ness of her coping skills very much … but lots of people have coping skills and don’t become PHENOMS at the age of 19. Her “coping skills” (head down, chin down, look up while head is down so head doesn’t shake, arm down, cross one arm over the other) – all of that stuff became her “look”, her persona, what she was famous for.

Amazing! What began as a way to stop her head from shaking – became her “trademark”. Bacall is smart. She’s not just smart as an actress, but she has the other kind of smarts: smarts about herself. And the choices she made only made her seem stronger, more specific, more herself. None of those invented gestures come off as studied, or stiff. It looks like Lauren Bacall is just one cool dame, who doesn’t NEED a lot of extraneous movement. When really it all began as a way to deal with nervousness. I love that!

Onward to the excerpt:

EXCERPT FROM By Myself and Then Some, by Lauren Bacall

I continued venting my energy on acting. At the end of the year, students of the New York School of the Theatre performed for parents. I had learned the portion scene from Romeo and Juliet. For weeks I studied it – during class, in school, on the street (why I wasn’t hit by a truck I’ll never know), at home. The day came and my moment with it. And the shaking started. I got through it, with Mother, Grandma, Charlie and Rosalie, Vera and Jack in attendance. It must have been awful – but what mattered was that I had done it, and that meant I would continue. No stopping me now.

My restlessness with regular school was due to the fact that I wanted to get on with real life – or away from real and on to pretend. I cut classes three times one week – once to go to the zoo, the other times for Bette Davis – and wrote a note saying I’d been ill and signed my mother’s name. I always got to the morning mail first, but one morning I didn’t. There was a letter from the principal’s office saying I’d been out and they’d like to speak with Mother. What a scene! My tears – ‘Oh, Mother, forgive me, I’ll never do it again.’ Mother asking how I’d got away with it. My confession to signing her name to a note. She: ‘Don’t you know that’s against the law? That you can go to jail for that?’ What was it in me – why and how was I able to do such things? For a girl who was dedicated to truth, it was most strange. Was it just mischief? Or was it a streak of my father – perish the thought! It reminded me of a time when I was about eleven. My friends and I used to walk through the five-and-ten-cent store. That’s what it really was then, you could buy almost everything for five or ten cents. As I had no money, I used to look at all the appetizing items on the counters and imagine which I would buy. On one counter were pencil cases – cheap little pencil cases, but I’d never had one and I wanted one so badly. So badly that I took it. I suppose most kids have done something like that once in their lives – there’s so much to see, to buy. And when you don’t have the money, so much that is beyond your reach – even a silly pencil case. I went home as usual and Mother noticed the case. She took me by both arms, looked at me, and said, ‘When did you get this pencil case?’

‘I found it.’ Eyes slightly off center.

‘Where did you find it?’

‘On the street, Mother.’

‘You’re lying, Betty. It’s brand new. Now tell me where you got it.’

My chin trembled – I couldn’t help it – I was caught, and frightened of what I had done. ‘I took it from the five-and-ten,’ in the smallest voice – a voice only birds could hear.

‘Well, you are going right back there and return it. And when you return it you are to give it to the woman behind the counter, tell her that you took it, and apologize.’

‘How can I ever do that? I’ll be punished! Can’t I just put it back on the counter and leave?’

‘No – you do as I say. Let this be a lesson to you. Taking what isn’t yours is stealing – it’s against the law. If you return it now, they will do nothing to you.’

She walked with me to the store, went in with me, and quietly stood to one side while I made my confession. The woman took it back, and it was an experience I never forgot – nor was it ever followed by another like it. Facing a situation head on was the only way to deal with anything. I learned the lesson early. My mother gave me a solid foundation. Any little quirks along the way were my own. It was hard growing up. (It’s still hard.)

I studied journalism at Julia Richman to fulfill a momentary dream of becoming a reporter. It must have been the result of a comic strip – that and seeing His Girl Friday. Years before when I saw a rerun of Loretta Young in The White Parade, saw how beautiful she was, how brave, how dedicated, I knew I would be a nurse. That is until my first sight of blood and the wave of nausea that accompanied it. The nursing dream became a thing of the past.

All this came from wanting so desperately to be someone – something; to have my own identity, my own place in life. The best thing about dreams is that youth holds on to them. I was always sure mine would come true – one of them, anyway. Clearly my fantasies resulted from my identification with movies and certain stars. Like the time I had seen Margaret Sullavan in a movie. She was a wonderful actress and I loved her looks. I wanted to look like that. My hair was long – it had been for years. Time for a change. But my mother and grandmother would be furious, so I pondered for days. Finally I decided I’d pondered enough. Time for action. I was to have my hair trimmed. Mother gave me the money. I took off for the shop. I was so excited – I’d leave 86th Street looking like me, I’d return looking like Margaret Sullavan. Thrilling. I sat in the barber chair and told the man what I wanted – I had a small photograph of Margaret Sullavan with me. He looked at me and said, ‘Are you sure that’s what you want?’ ‘I’m sure. Cut it all off.’ He picked up his scissors and began. One side went and I looked cockeyed. It was awful, but it would be lovely when both sides were done. They finally were. I looked in the mirror. The hair was Margaret Sullavan, all right – very short, just below the ears, bangs – but the fact was still mine. The two definitely did not go together. But it was too late now, there was nothing for it but to go home and face the music. I walked in the door and when my grandmother saw me she gave a horrified scream, as did my mother. ‘Are you crazy – cutting that beautiful hair? Whatever got into you?’ ‘All I wanted to do was look like Margaret Sullavan. I love it – I’ve had my long hair long enough. I’m not a baby anymore.’ But it was awful – I looked hideous and I hated it. But it would grow back – I hoped. Fortunately, it did before I had finished high school. I was an awkward mess anyway, the hair just added to the picture.

Movies were accessible to me, of course – they were the cheapest entertainment form that I knew – twenty-five cents for entry. My exposure to the theatre was almost non-existent, as I could simply not afford it. I was given a very special treat in 1939 – seeing John Gielgud as Hamlet. The combination of John Gielgud, Shakespeare, and a Broadway theatre was almost too much for me. The feeling of walking into a legitimate theatre – the shape of it, the boxes, balconies, upholstered seats, and the curtain with the magical stage behind it. What seemed like thousands of people crowded inside. So this was what a real theatre was like! It lived up to every vision I had ever conjured up in my mind. I reached my seat, program clutched in hand. The house lights dimmed – the chatter ceased – the entire audience was focused on the stage – the hush – the feeling of awe – and the power actors have to affect people’s lives while they sit in a theatre. At the rise of the curtain one could feel the expectation, the concentration of everyone in that house. What followed depended on what was given by the actors – they could do almost anything, they could lead an audience anywhere, make them feel anything. The power of it – it was unforgettable. That day I was transported for two and a half hours from my perch high in the balcony. Even the wave of applause that came at the end of each ac did not shake me back to reality. Would I ever come close? Was there any way for me to be anywhere near that good? Gielgud’s performance was so affecting that, despite my youth and my inability to understand Shakespeare’s language totally, I left the theatre in a complete daze, bumping into people, being stepped on, unaware of where I was. Since then, of course, I have realized that Gielgud’s Hamlet was one of the great performances of all time. And I can still see the beauty of that head and his total immersion in his role. It took some time for me to return to my reality.