Robert Redford - Michael Feeney Callan [46]
But Redford saw West Coast television as a learning lab. “From a technical point of view, it was great,” he says. “Television moved very quickly from live transmissions to tape, then film. My timing was good from that point of view. Because, the truth is, there is no difference between, say, a filmed episode of Maverick and a big Hollywood movie, other than the obvious: budget. The geography of the set is the same. A gaffer is a gaffer, and a grip is a grip.”
The Redfords rented a two-room apartment on the pier at Malibu as soon as the television earnings allowed it. Life became calm again.
Within MCA, however, Redford was seen as an increasingly attractive property. “Stark rather selfishly wanted Bob back in New York, in theater,” said Monique James. “That was his fantasy. I challenged that, and I wanted to prove him in television. Bob could be a funny guy, a cutup, but he was also very, very tough. He was impervious to the humiliations of the business. He had the tenacity for the casting trail. Because of all that, I knew he’d never get stuck in Rescue 8. So I pushed for better roles for him.”
NBC offered Redford a part in “Captain Brassbound’s Conversion,” an adaptation of George Bernard Shaw’s play for the estimable Hallmark Hall of Fame. The role was small but, significantly, alongside two great Hollywood players, Christopher Plummer and Greer Garson. Redford saw irony in this. Since childhood he had fancied Greer Garson and, while working as a janitor at the ANTA Theatre, had often watched while Plummer rehearsed. He was thrilled to be sharing a soundstage with acting legends. “It’s not always the size of a part, but the connections involved that are important,” said Monique James. “Neither of us wanted to bed down in Maverick, and this was a turning point.”
In the Shaw play, Redford’s part was just six lines as a soldier called Blue Jacket, who shows Greer Garson into a cabin. “Somehow I impressed her,” says Redford, “probably because I so obviously relished every second of being around her. She took to me like I was her little puppy. Finally I got her to myself in her dressing room and told her how much I admired her. She was sitting regally in a flowing, frothy pink gown, looking like all I’d romantically dreamed her to be. She responded with such grace: ‘My dear, dear, dear, dear Blue Jacket …!’ Her kindness made me weak at the knees. Now, I thought to myself, if only I could play opposite Maureen O’Hara.”
In May, as Redford was rehearsing “Captain Brassbound’s Conversion,” Lola discovered she was pregnant again. That seemed like the cue to leave Los Angeles. “I didn’t want the baby to be born there, and I’d had enough of shows like Maverick. So when the Shaw play was done, I was done.” The Redfords were literally filling the trunk of their Chrysler when another call came from Monique James. Redford remembers, “She told me, ‘You simply cannot miss this one, Bob. This is Playhouse 90. This is gold.’ ”
James had fought to keep Redford in L.A. She recalled: “Ethel Winant, the casting director for Playhouse 90, told me emphatically she didn’t want a newcomer for this particular big role because this was a historically important show. It was a Nazi war story, said Ethel, and it called for George [Peppard] because he had the best Aryan look. She also wanted a heavyweight actor, not some have-a-go fellow. I lied to her, telling her George didn’t want the part. All I was doing was trying to create an opportunity for Bob. I gave Ethel no choice: she had to check out Redford.”
Playhouse 90, which had been running on CBS since 1948, was regarded as the apogee of TV drama. In the mid-fifties, producer Hubbell Robinson refined its