Lauren Bacall - By Myself and Then Some

I stopped everything but study from that moment on. The character’s name was Marie, but the man, Harry, called her Slim. It was a good scene, very adult, sexy – much better than anything I had ever hoped for, with a great tag line about whistling. I’d do the best I could and Howard would guide me – I trusted him completely.

After that we rehearsed every day in Howard’s office – Sundays, New Year’s Eve, New Year’s Day. John Ridgely would sit in a chair opposite Howard’s desk, and I had to sit on his lap and kiss him. I was self-conscious and very nervous. Howard told me how to sit and where – made me do the whole thing while he watched. Kissing is fairly intimate – to do it with a man you hardly know and with your mentor watching and your future hanging in the balance is enough to put fear into the heart of a fairly experienced actor – to a novice like myself it was utterly terrifying. And I desperately wanted to be good for Howard – I couldn’t bear to have him feel he’d signed a dud.

Howard took me to wardrobe, chose a dark shirt and jacket, put a beret on my head, and told me the test would be the next Tuesday. He drummed into my head that he wanted me to be insolent with the man – that I was being the forward one, but with humor – and told me about yet more scenes he had directed other actresses in to give me examples of the attitude he wanted. I hung on his every word, trying to figure out how the hell a girl who was totally without sexual experience could convey experience, worldliness, and knowledge of men.

On the day of the test I was my usual spastic self. Rose at 6:00 a.m., got to make-up before seven. Over-anxious. Hair and make-up done, with no alterations suggested this time. On the set before nine. Howard looked at my make-up and hair – called Sid Hickox, the cameraman, over. Howard knew how he wanted the scene photographed – me photographed. He wanted a mood created photographically. The molding was beginning for real. Who knew what kind of Frankenstein’s monster he was creating?

I got into my costume. John Ridgely was ready, and we started to rehearse the opening of the scene on the set. We worked quietly, with Howard watching and the crew very much in the background. The day went well. It was a marvelous scene – Hickox was terrific – and Howard gave me such care. He was kind, affectionate (for him that would mean a smile, a hand on my shoulder, nothing too overt). He made me feel secure. At day’s end I felt good about it. So did Howard. All that remained was to see the scene on film and get the verdict. More waiting, more anxiety.

The remainder of the week crawled by. I was on the phone to Charlie daily for news: When would Howard see the test? I drove that man crazy.

On Monday Howard saw the test and Charlie was present. Each of them called to tell me he thought it was good. Howard would show it to me on Wednesday. Another crucial Wednesday in my life! I drove to the studio with my heart in my mouth. In Howard’s office I met Jules Furthman, a writer (he didn’t look like a writer) who was writing the screenplay of To Have and Have Not . Howard took me to the projection room and as I slid low in my seat he ran my test. I was no judge then, nor would I ever be, of myself on the screen. Every fault – and there were many – was magnified, every move, look, the way I read a line – it all made me want to hide. But when the lights came on, Howard turned to me with a smile and said, ‘You should be pleased. Jack Warner saw this yesterday and liked it, so things look pretty good.’ I was afraid to believe it might happen. I’d know in a few days – if I could last that long.

Finally I got the call. Would I come to the studio for lunch with Howard? And then he told me – the part was mine. He and Charlie would have to sell half my contract to Warners or they wouldn’t give me the part. But it was a great break, and to work with Bogart, a big star and good actor, could not be luckier for me. Actors of his stature were not often willing to have a complete unknown playing opposite them.

But I must say nothing yet about the part or the picture. Howard had plans. He wanted to find a good first name to go with my last one. Was there a name in my family that might be good – what was my grandmother’s name? Sophie? No! He’d think of something.

He wanted me to continue working on my singing – continue reading aloud for my voice training – practice shouting, keeping my register low. He thought the picture would start at the beginning of February. After those months of waiting, it was finally happening. I was bursting with joy.

Mother was so happy for me – she knew how lucky I was. She had met Charlie several times, Howard once or twice, felt I was in good hands. She wanted to go back to New York, and as I was going to be working constantly from then on, it seemed a perfect time. She wanted to see the family. She missed her friends. Lee. So off she went, leaving me to my new life and my total preoccupation with it.

At lunch in the green room one day Howard told me he had thought of a name: Lauren. He wanted me to tell everyone when the interviews began that it was an old family name – had been my great-grandmother’s. What invention! He wanted me to talk very little – be mysterious. That would be a departure. If there was one thing I had never been, it was mysterious, and if there was one thing I had never done, it was not talk. I had a lot to work on.

There was another woman’s role in the picture and Warners had insisted that if they were to give me the lead, Howard had to use a girl they had under contract and had hopes for: Dolores Moran. Howard acquiesced. He was also going to use Hoagy Carmichael. Hoagy had never acted in his life, but Howard had the perfect part for him – Cricket, a piano player in the nightclub of the hotel in Cuba where most of the action took place. He’d play while I’d sing. (While I’d what?) They were good friends and Hoagy loved the idea. Howard had thought everything out very carefully indeed. He was tailoring everything to complement what he wanted me to be, and out of that would come his dream realized, his invention – emerging perfectly out of his mold after the proper baking time of all the right ingredients.

One day a couple of weeks before the picture was to start, I was about to walk into Howard’s office when Humphrey Bogart came walking out. He said, ‘I just saw your test. We’ll have a lot of fun together.’ Howard told me Bogart had truly liked the test and would be very helpful to me.

I kept Mother up to date on developments, sending lists of people to call with the news – Diana Vreeland, Louise Dahl-Wolfe, Nicky de Gunzburg, Tim Brooke – with instructions to keep it to themselves. I couldn’t write to anyone – only Mother!

Call Fred Spooner – tell him I saved $48 this week and will try to do the same next week. Had to spend $20 on a new clutch for my car…. Send me slacks…. Send me this – that – everything…. Sat opposite Bette Davis in the Greenroom the other day – she stared at me – maybe she thought I looked familiar – Ha! Ha! Went to dinner and to see Casablanca! – watching Bogie [whom I barely knew]. The picture isn’t scheduled to start until Tuesday now – but frankly I don’t think it’ll begin until a week from tomorrow [that would be the next Monday]. They have to change the locale from Cuba to Martinique. Political difficulties, because as it stands now, characters and story don’t reflect too well on Cuba. Have been working hard at the studio every day. I think I’m going to do my own singing! [I’d been having singing lessons every day.]

The picture didn’t begin until the following Tuesday. I had tested the wardrobe – hair – make-up. Sid Hickox had photographed them with Howard present, experimenting as he went, as Howard wanted me to look in the movie.