Lauren Bacall - By Myself and Then Some

Years of dinners on trays in Turtle Bay, cooked by devoted Nora. Katie never would go out – always meals at home – whether she was in a play or not – dinner was at 6:00 p.m. and you’d better not be late. I didn’t dare. She was an early morning day person – I was a late morning night person. Except when making a movie, of course – waking at 6:00 a.m. and trying to sleep by 10:30 or 11:00 at night always took me the first week of shooting to get in the groove. I always adjusted my time to Kate’s – if you wanted to spend time with her, those were the rules. By 8:30 you were out of there and she was mounting the stairs to her bedroom. She was a character all right, a fascinating one. I keep remembering seeing her in Paris with Spencer and the Garson Kanins. She was wearing a dress. Spencer refused to take her out unless she wore a dress. She wore one of the probably two dresses that she owned and she was glowing, brimming over with joy. As the years wore on, through good times and bad, right to the end, Kate always had a glow.

She was spoiled, I suppose. Spoiled in the sense that the rules she lived by had to be respected and agreed to by any and all who entered her domain. When it came to dinner invitations, Kate did the menu. Having a marvelous cook like Nora helped. I never worried about the food. I knew that Katie was more a meat and potatoes person than a fish person. That was just dandy with me. Nora always climbed the stairs carrying the trays adorned with perfectly cooked lamb, roast potatoes, parsnips (which Kate loved and, as it turned out, I never had except from her kitchen). String beans were often on the menu, as were beets, lima beans, a green salad and Katie’s favorite dessert of ice cream – chocolate and coffee topped off with her favorite brownies and Nora’s lace cookies. I still have the brownie recipe. And I will NOT share it.

These dinners were very reminiscent of the dinners Katie cooked for Spence. She might always have been, but she certainly became, a first rate and inventive cook for Spence. And when I had a meal with them, it was always meticulously and carefully served by herself. Her sole aim was to please him, which she unfailingly did. The main difference in evenings with Kate after Spence died was that we always had a drink before dinner. Katie had her scotch whisky, I had either vodka or Jack Daniel’s. I had hardly ever seen Katie take any alcohol before that time, only very occasionally in Africa during African Queen and then only rarely. She knew that both Bogie and John Huston enjoyed their drinks. She didn’t want to encourage them but she did like to join in from time to time.

There was always an element of unpredictability and surprise about Kate. Looking back at those times – all of them – I realize that. I was privy to the sight of Kate, the woman. Not strident, still opinionated, but always willing to listen to John and Bogie. Knowing, of course, that they both adored her. Watching her sitting on the floor pouring coffee for Spencer, listening – no, hanging on – to his every word, looking up at him with total adoration. She was a woman in love, blindingly, unquestionably in love. Spence, on his part, was always sweet with her, affectionate, though not overly demonstrative. But there was no doubt in my mind, or anyone else’s who saw them together, that they were totally committed to one another and that they were totally balanced and belonged together. I spent a great deal of time with them after Bogie died. Somehow, don’t ask me how, I always felt Bogie was the invisible fourth. The vision of him always came up in conversation. Katie and Spence were that rarity – two actors who genuinely felt so close to one another – respect and love – plus non-stop laughter.

Until the day she died, I never thought of Kate without thinking of Spence and Bogie. After all, our friendship really began and solidified during the making of African Queen in 1951. To think that Kate’s and my friendship endured for more than fifty years is some kind of record. And it created a special bond between us – me without Bogie, followed by her without Spence. Those years of memories of four of us – then three of us – then two of us. Now only one.

After my first meeting with Katie when I was filled with fear – when I saw the many facets of her character, she was only once unkind to me. And even that once was not really her fault. A few years before she died, she said one day, ‘I’m not spending any more money.’ And on another occasion, ‘Don’t ask me any questions. I can’t remember anything.’ I suppose that was a slight indication of how her life would alter. The unkindness came one night as we were having dinner in her house on Turtle Bay. As usual, the two of us. Norah had cooked her customary delicious meal. Conversation was not exactly flowing. I was telling her of my activities, of Sam’s – it was pretty much a one sided conversation. Some silence followed then she looked at me and said, ‘What do you want?’ I was stunned by that, not understanding until she said again, ‘What do you want?’ – then once more followed by an impatient letting out of breath. That made me so nervous, I was at a loss. After saying, ‘I don’t want anything, Kate’ – which did not sit well with her, as she was still staring at me – I felt so uncomfortable. I finally said, ‘I must be going. Thanks for dinner. I’ll see you soon.’ I then made for the kitchen where Nora was cleaning up. I told her what had transpired and how I never wanted to go through that again. Nora said, ‘You know she doesn’t mean that, Miss Bacall.’ I said I hoped not but I was at a loss and very upset. That clearly indicated the major change that had come over Kate.

Not long after, she went to her house in Connecticut and that was where she would spend the last years of her life. I never went back to Turtle Bay. I continued to visit her in Connecticut. The visits were obviously not as often as in New York. It was a good two and a half hours to get to the Connecticut house so after allowing a solid two hours to spend with Kate and another two and a half hours back, it was a day gone. I called frequently and visited when I could. By then Katie’s ability to recognize had visibly altered. I would enter the living room. She would be seated in her favorite chair. At the beginning, she would give me a blank look that would change to a flicker of an eye as she realized she knew me. As I talked on about Bogie and Africa – about Spence – our trip to Paris – mutual friends – Olivier – Vivien Leigh – George Cukor – Ethel Barrymore – she seemed to connect me, them and her. She did not verbalize it. Nora said she knew, the young woman tending her would know. I’d ask, ‘Do you want to go outside?’ She’d say an emphatic, ‘No.’ She would sit in her chair, lost in her own thoughts. I would sit with her. Finally when it was time for me to leave, I would give her a hug. She would either say, ‘Stay’ or give some indication, couldn’t I stay longer? For dinner? – I would say, ‘Next time.’ It was always sad to see her like that – though she did not seem unhappy – and it was always sad to leave her. She was ninety-three or -four then and had had a full life, a life of her choice. Even so, I had hoped she would live forever.

The very last time I saw her, I walked right over to her in her chair in the living room, sat next to her, kissed her. She seemed to know me a little. There were two large picture books – one with a shot of Bogie from The African Queen – one of Spence. As I showed each to her and spoke to her of these two men who meant so much to her, she miraculously seemed to brighten and understand. Television journalist Cynthia McFadden, who had driven me over, said she was sure Katie had connected and understood. Cynthia and Katie had become friends some years before. I think Katie almost thought of her as a daughter. Anyway, they were close and Cynthia had seen enough of Kate to know when she responded and when she didn’t. That day when I was about to leave, she said, ‘Please stay.’ After I had stayed for a half hour longer, I leaned over and kissed her cheeks many times after which she looked at me and whispered, ‘Thank you.’ So touching – so sweet. I wondered how much she knew. It mattered not. She knew something.