Spencer Tracy_ A Biography - James C. Curtis [445]
Kate knew there had been “not too much interest” between the two since Tracy had been unable—or, in Ford’s mind, unwilling—to do The Plough and the Stars in 1936. When Leland Hayward, at Eddie Mannix’s urging, wanted Ford to direct The Old Man and the Sea, he put the idea forth to Tracy, knowing there would be serious reservations. Tracy wired:
BRILLIANT DIRECTOR OF YOUR CHOICE. ONLY FEAR: QUESTION HE WILL SHOOT SCRIPT IF NOT PAPA YOU ME.
Tracy was sent O’Connor’s novel in February 1956, and he devoured it in two days. “Great but NO!!” he wrote in his book. “John Ford?? Told Allenberg no ‘Hurrah.’ ” In September Columbia came back with an offer that was promptly rejected by Abe Lastfogel: $125,000 plus 25 percent of the profits. Being “Irish and smart,” Ford applied to Hepburn for help. One night at her place—the “aviary” on what was once the John Barrymore estate—Allenberg complained that involving her was “unethical” of Ford, a statement that elicited from Tracy a “sharp reminder to him of the facts of life.” The next afternoon Hepburn arranged the first substantive talk between Tracy and Ford in some twenty years.
“Kate ‘Agent’ with Ford for Hurrah,” Tracy wrote. “Met with him. Deal now possible.” Columbia’s Harry Cohn made the same offer as before, then raised it, under pressure from Ford, to $175,000 and 10 percent of the gross after breakeven. Tracy again said no, and four days later Allenberg appeared on the set of Desk Set with word that Ford “wanted a deal” but was still working to bring Cohn around. Subsequently Ford told Hepburn that he would not make the picture without Tracy.
The back-and-forth continued into March 1957, when Tracy made the decision to keep his schedule open for The Old Man and the Sea. Kate notified Ford—who wanted to start May 1—and Ford, not wishing to wait any longer, said in a fit of pique that he would move ahead with Orson Welles in the role. “End of Hurrah!!” Tracy wrote. Eight days later, “Pappy” was once again on the phone to Hepburn; Columbia had upped the offer to $200,000 but said they wanted to start June 1. “Par!” Tracy responded. “NO!” The deal wasn’t settled until May, when the producers agreed to push the start of production back to January 1958. Tracy went off to Hawaii to do Old Man and the Sea, and Ford lined up a picture in London to fill the time.
The Last Hurrah was not without controversy, the character of Skeffington having been modeled on Boston’s legendary mayor (and onetime Massachusetts governor) James Michael Curley. As the story goes, an enterprising newspaper editor sent the eighty-one-year-old Curley a set of galleys with the hope that Curley would file a review of the O’Connor book. Curley took little more than a fleeting glance at the galleys before returning them to the paper with a terse one-line notice: “The matter is in the hands of my attorneys.”
His outrage was short-lived. O’Connor painted Skeffington with obvious affection, saving the sharp edges for the rogues, bigots, and hypocrites who opposed him on the battlefield of public approbation. In a time and place where Irish political operatives did what they felt they had to do for the advancement of their people, Curley was a hero to the men and women of South Boston, a fierce and colorful advocate for the disenfranchised. In time, he began referring to himself as “Skeffington” and was heard to have said on at least one occasion, “I like best the scene where I die.” Despite the apparent change in Curley’s attitude toward the book, Columbia took the precaution of paying the former mayor, governor, and convicted felon $25,000 in exchange for his signature on a release shielding the corporation from any legal action that might otherwise result from the production and exhibition of the movie.
After striving for more than a year to get Tracy