Spencer Tracy_ A Biography - James C. Curtis [138]
Johnny entered the third grade as a “guest,” limited to one hour in a single classroom. “The class happened to be doing arithmetic,” Louise said. “This was John’s meat. He was happy, too, at being with children again and instantly became a part of things. His hand went up with the others as the teacher put a problem in addition on the board. I held my breath, as I felt uncertain John would be given his chance. He was.” As John would later write, “I didn’t know that being deaf was a great handicap. I just got along beautifully with those boys and girls without realizing it.”
It was also during the production of Bottoms Up that an extraordinary editorial ran in the pages of the Hollywood Reporter. Every Monday, Wilkerson printed a front-page column called “Tradeviews” in which he held forth on some timely aspect of the motion picture business. One week, he might rail over labor practices, the next the bane of nepotism and how it made for worse and costlier pictures. The Power and the Glory, the highpoint of Tracy’s career, had been followed into release by the thoroughly undistinguished Mad Game. Then Man’s Castle came a week later and was not the hit it should have been, domestic rentals just about covering its cost. When Fox announced that Bottoms Up would be followed by something called The Gold Rush of 1933, the primary excuse for which would be Tracy’s reteaming with Claire Trevor, Wilkerson could see that Tracy’s work in Power and the Glory and Man’s Castle hadn’t counted for much.
We’ll place the name of Spencer Tracy at the top of any list crediting really fine performances, rating artistic ability, or an instance of one of the greatest prospective draws in this business if given good material. We have never seen Tracy giving anything resembling a bad performance, and we have seen him in some pictures that were so bad that standout ability was almost impossible. But not for Tracy; that boy makes even impossible characters interesting.
Tracy never acts; he rather underplays his parts; you never have a feeling that he is trying to perform and that’s what makes him so good. And it’s a damned shame that he has to be tied to a studio whose production intelligence does not approach his fine talents. This business is missing one of the best money draws it ever had because of this. Give Tracy two or three GOOD pictures, one after the other, and there is not a male star (or female) who would top him in selling tickets, for he has everything that any audience wants in a screen performer.
Wilkerson’s column was required reading throughout the industry, and a light obviously went on somewhere. Two days after its appearance, an item in the paper reported that M-G-M had placed a new talking version of George Kelly’s hit comedy The Show-Off back on its production schedule. “The picture was temporarily put on the shelf a few weeks ago because the studio was unable to secure a suitable lead at that time. M-G-M now has a lead in mind, but is keeping it quiet for the time being.” The next day, January 26, 1934, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer concluded an agreement to borrow Spencer Tracy for the lead.
Originally, The Show-Off had been acquired from Paramount for actor Lee Tracy, whose first work on Broadway was in the original 1924 production. Tracy’s five-year contract with the studio was abruptly terminated in the aftermath of an international incident the actor allegedly precipitated during the filming of Viva Villa in Mexico.1 The project languished for nearly two months with no obvious replacement for the title role until Wilkerson’s editorial appeared. Suddenly, Metro made a