Spencer Tracy_ A Biography - James C. Curtis [357]
Tracy, in turn, seemed to regard the boisterous Taylor as he might a second daughter, addressing her as Kitten (as he did in the film) and allowing her to call him Pops. “In between takes, he would be Spence … I mean we would really horse around. He’d chase me, rough me up. I’d tease him. But the minute the camera started, except once—I’d been naughty. I’d really been horsing around on the set, chasing him on a bicycle. And it was my closeup, and it was not a very intense moment, but a serious moment between father and daughter. The camera was on his back, and he played the whole scene with his eyes crossed, seeing how great my powers of concentration were. I could have killed him, but I didn’t bust up.” To his aunt Jenny he wrote: “We have been going along pretty smoothly on Father of the Bride—think it will be a nice, harmless movie.”
Tracy’s case of nerves persisted throughout the making of Father of the Bride, and though he merely seemed “more subdued” to Joan Bennett, he was convinced by the end of production that he had stomach cancer. Hepburn was in New York, where she was playing As You Like It, and he made plans to join her there, traveling to Boston for more tests at Brigham Hospital and another consultation with Dr. Gray. One day he surprised Bill Self by asking him to come along.
“Initially we were going to drive,” Self recalled,
and he wanted me to help him drive to New York, which was kind of a legitimate reason. The plan was that I would pack and meet him at Chasen’s for dinner. He had all the maps and was prepared for it. We were going to have dinner at Chasen’s and then we were going to drive to Palm Springs and spend the first night in Palm Springs, then take off for New York. So I arrived at Chasen’s with my bag. (He even made me go out and buy a hat, because I didn’t have a hat. He said, “You can’t be in New York without a hat.” So he gave me some money and I went out and bought a hat.) I arrived at Chasen’s and told the valet to put my bag in Mr. Tracy’s car. I went in and Spence was sitting there. I don’t remember if anyone was with him or not; there might have been Carroll.
He said, “Where you going?” I said, “I’m going to New York.” He said, “Oh, that’s interesting. I’m going to New York, but not tonight.” I said, “Oh? You’re not going tonight?” He said, “Well, I was going to drive to New York, but I’m not going to drive. I’m going to take the train.” I said, “Well, fine. What’s that mean to me?” He said, “You’re going with me. I have your ticket.”
Everybody says it would have been a disaster [to drive], and I have no doubt they were right. So we had dinner. I came home, caught [my wife] Peggy by surprise, and the next day we left on the train. The trip eastward was uneventful; we got along okay. The only eventful thing was that Fred Astaire and his wife were on the train, and that was the first time I ever met Fred and his wife. I didn’t remind Fred of that meeting until many, many years later. Nothing came of it, but Spence was not anxious to team up with them … While on the train, I said to him, “Why am I with you?” He said, “Because if somebody isn’t with me, people come up to me and talk to me. If I’m talking to somebody that I know, people don’t usually come up.” He said, “That’s particularly true at dinner.”
I never felt as close to Tracy as I felt to Hepburn. With me, Hepburn was very open. She’d say anything. She was just terrific. Tracy was much more reserved. I was careful not to talk about little things. He hated little conversations. “Small talk.” I would have to choose my subjects carefully. He’d rather sit there silently. He once said to me about the New York trip, “You know the real reason I asked you to go to New York? You don’t