Spencer Tracy_ A Biography - James C. Curtis [42]
There were four days left to the recreational end of the trip, but they weren’t days to be wasted in New York or Washington, D.C. Back at Ripon, Kenny Edgers had fallen desperately ill, and Tracy seized the excuse to return home at once. He found Kenny recovering, and they started walking to build up his strength, five miles a day. Spence told him about Sargent and the academy and the offer of the scholarship, as if that might swing some weight when it came to his father. And, in the end, Lorraine thought that it might: “His father, I know, finally said, ‘You can go for a year, and if at the end of that time you haven’t hit it off big, then you will come back and go into business with me.’ Spence spoke of it as something that he was being indulged in, and he was determined to show his father that he was going to be a success.”
Tracy presided over his last fraternity meeting on March 14, 1922, and returned to Milwaukee that same day. His six months as premier had left Alpha Phi Omega with new bylaws, new ceremonials, a new constitution, and thirteen new members.
A month after he left, Tracy won the degree of proficiency, order of debate, in Pi Kappa Delta. The announcement of his departure in Ripon College Days concluded with the words: “His ability will be sorely missed next fall.”
Spencer Tracy entered the American Academy of Dramatic Arts during its thirty-eighth year. The junior class consisted of 142 pupils, the majority women who fancied themselves stageworthy and who, more importantly, had the tuition and wherewithal to keep the academy going. Only a small portion of its graduates ever went professional, but those who did enjoyed long and distinguished careers. Among the academy’s past students, William Powell ’13 was appearing in Bavu at the Earl Carroll Theatre, and Edward G. Robinson (also ’13) was at the Plymouth in The Deluge. Howard Lindsay, who staged To the Ladies, was an academy graduate, as was Dale Carnegie ’12, who developed his famous course immediately upon leaving the school. In England, Marion Lorne ’04 was starring in the plays of her husband, Walter C. Hackett. In California, Cecil B. DeMille ’00 was directing movies for Famous Players.
On the faculty were playwright-director Edward Goodman; actors Lemuel Josephs, Joseph Adelman, and Philip Loeb; and actor-director Edwin R. Wolfe. George Currie taught Physical Training, Pantomime, and Life Study; Wellington Putnam, Vocal Training; James J. Murray, Fencing and Stage Dueling. All were presided over by the redoubtable Charles Jehlinger, who directed the senior plays and gave an occasional lecture. “Jehli,” as he was known to nearly everyone, had been with Franklin Sargent from the beginning in that he was in the school’s very first graduating class. Twelve years later, Jehlinger returned as faculty, concurrent with the school’s move to Carnegie Hall. He didn’t teach any of the junior classes, but his presence was felt throughout the academy, a martinet of sorts where Sargent could be gloomy and reclusive.
Tracy found a room on West Seventy-sixth Street, around the corner from the New-York Historical Society, and reported for classes on the morning of April 3, 1922. He found himself plunged almost immediately into an intensive regimen of vocal and physical training, covering everything from hygiene and makeup to dancing, fencing, and diction. Defects in speech, projection, and posture were identified and corrective exercises prescribed. Control and resonance of the voice came