Spencer Tracy_ A Biography - James C. Curtis [358]
We got to New York. Spence went to his hotel, and I went to mine. Hepburn had borrowed a Rolls-Royce from somebody. The Rolls-Royce would drop her at the theater and then it would drop Spence and me at a different theater. I remember going to see Sir Cedric Hardwicke in Caesar and Cleopatra. Spence always sat in the back row; he would enter the theater late, and he would leave the theater the moment the curtain came down. We dashed backstage to say hello to Sir Cedric Hardwicke, which was kind of interesting to me.
Often, Tracy and Self would walk the theater district after a performance, Kate’s show running later than most. “He told me all these stories about his drinking buddies and what he did and what he shouldn’t have done. We were walking in the Broadway area, and we passed a theater where he said, ‘This is where John Barrymore played Hamlet.’ ” It was the old Harris Theatre, now a Forty-second Street grind house, where Tracy himself had played Killer Mears in The Last Mile.
“Three Guys from Milwaukee” was the original caption for this M-G-M publicity photo. From left: Bill Self, Wisconsin state tennis champion; Tracy; and Frank Parker, U.S. national tennis champion. (WILLIAM SELF)
I said, “Did you ever work with Barrymore?” He said, “No.” And I, being facetious, said, “You would have made a great pair—a couple of drinkers like you.” How stupid can you be? He stopped and said, “What do you mean by that?” I said, “Well, Spence, you know you’re always kidding about the amount of drinking you did …” He said, “I don’t kid about my drinking.”
One evening we went back to Hepburn’s theater and picked her up—or she picked us up if she had the car—and we went to the Pierre. We talked for hours. It was a terrific evening, because I was hearing two giants tell their stories. They talked about George M. Cohan … We talked until two or three in the morning. Earlier, Spence had said, “Call me at eight o’clock and we’ll do something. Sightsee or something.” I said, “Great.” Then we talked much later than I expected. Spence said, “You take Katie back to her home.” So I went with her, and I did that, and then the car dropped me off. The next morning at eight o’clock I thought, Well I can’t call Spence at eight o’clock; we were up till four. I’ll wait a little while. Nine o’clock I called, and he said, “Where the hell have you been??”
I said, “Well, Spence, I thought we were all up so late that I would hesitate to call you at eight o’clock.” And he said, “Well, Bill, people who get along with me do what they say they’re going to do.” And he hangs up.
I had no money; he had been paying the bills. A few minutes later, Katie called and said, “What happened?” And I said, “Well, Kate, I was reluctant to call—you know how late we were up and I was concerned about calling him.” She said, “Well, he’s upset. Let him alone. I’ll fix it up. Don’t call him, don’t bother him. Just stay put.”
So I would say two or three days go by and I don’t hear a word from him. She called me and said, “I’m working on it.” I’m wandering around New York. I have no business there, no money, no nothing. I knew they were going to pay the bills. I wasn’t worried about that. I just didn’t know what to do. And then she called and said, “You’re going home tomorrow, and you leave at such-and-such a time from Penn Station (or whatever it was) and don’t be late.” I said, “I’m not going to be late. Not after this.”
So I met him at the station, and he was cool. Very awkward. My sole purpose for being there was to please him, and here I was and he wouldn’t even talk to me. So we got on the train and we had to change in Chicago, and he warmed up. That was when he told me that he thought he had stomach cancer, told