Spencer Tracy_ A Biography - James C. Curtis [34]
“There’s a fellow in our house who is interested in acting,” Davies told the professor. “I believe he has real talent. He would like to try out for our next play. Could I bring him over?” Graham, a sort of utility man in the English Department, had them at his door in a matter of minutes. “Tracy was a fine looking lad,” he later recalled of the meeting, “more mature in appearance than the average freshman. I noted especially a certain decisiveness in his speech, a clipped firmness of expression indicating poise, self-control, and confidence. I was impressed and invited him to try out for our next play.”
The Truth is famously a woman’s showcase, the lead part being that of Becky, a compulsive liar whose relentless embroidery threatens her marriage to the agreeable, unquestioning Tom Warder. Taking the part of Becky would be Ethyl Williams, a star around campus who was president of Theta Alpha Phi, the dramatic fraternity, and was, by general agreement, the best actress the school had ever produced. Both Davies and Tracy read for the role of Tom, an easy skate of a part except for a tense confrontational scene at the bottom of the second act, and Tracy, to everyone’s surprise, landed it effortlessly. Ken Edgers, who covered the tryouts for the school paper, acknowledged that Tracy was new to the Ripon stage “but should prove to be one of the strongest actors in the cast if the ability revealed last Tuesday may be taken as a sample of his future work.” Edgers mercifully refrained from reporting Tracy’s first line onstage a few days later, when, focused on the playscript clutched in his hand, he backed out from the wings and tripped over a pile of band instruments, tumbling into the middle of a bass drum. “Gosh!” came the historic words. “I busted Foam Lueck’s drum!”1
Carrie and John Tracy, circa 1922. (ROBERT B. EDGERS)
Faced with the daunting task of acting the male lead in the first full-length play he had ever tackled, Tracy threw himself into the rehearsal process with an all-consuming dedication that forced him to drop all of his third-quarter classes. “He didn’t always see the sense in ‘education,’ ” Professor Boody wrote, “and in some courses he was more or less of a problem. The Dean frequently had to jack him up on attendance. But when it came to anything on the stage he was right there.” He also spent so much time running lines with Ethyl Williams, his moon-faced leading lady, that Kenny came to consider her “one of Spence’s flames.”
Tracy made his stage debut at the Ripon Municipal Auditorium on the night of June 21, 1921. The performance began promptly at 8:15, Ethyl taking the stage within a couple of minutes and exhibiting, in the words of Professor Boody, “real ability and a high degree of technique.” Spence appeared about ten minutes later, “straightforward and lovable” as the text required. As Becky schemed and manipulated, Tom steadfastly remained his trusting old self, a model of contented domesticity, completely oblivious to the web of deceit being spun around him.
Then came the second act, where Becky covered a man’s visit with a cascade of falsehoods that not even Tom could ignore. Tracy, his jaw taut, his voice getting lower, listened with mounting fury as Ethyl continued to trip herself up. “Lies!” he erupted, blowing like a long-dormant volcano. “All of it! Every word a lie. And another and another and another!”
“Tom!”
“You sent for him!”
Too frightened to speak, she frantically shook her head in a desperate attempt at denial.
“Don’t shake your head! I know what I’m talking about and for the first time with you, I believe!”
She put her hands up helplessly and backed away from him.
“I saw your note to him!” he jabbed, moving in on her. “I read it here in this room! He gave it to me before you came