Spencer Tracy_ A Biography - James C. Curtis [499]
Tracy went home with medications for his diabetes, his heart, and kidneys, “practically normal” (as Louise put it) but very weak. Dr. Covel, who lived five minutes away, saw him most days, early in the morning or late in the evening. “He was the kind of guy,” the doctor said, “who almost needed constant medical care—either in the form of real illnesses, crises, or support and reassurance. That was one of the reasons we got along so well, I guess, because I understood. Other physicians who were less patient—well, he wouldn’t tolerate them.”
In October Tracy developed a rash that covered much of his lower body, an unpleasant side effect of one of the medicines he was taking. Frank Tracy visited on Halloween and was startled by his appearance: “If I hadn’t known it was Spence who was coming through the door, I might not have recognized him. The change was shocking—almost eerie. He looked terrible, all shriveled up, weak. He was pale and half-shaved; he had missed under his chin, around his throat, leaving them grizzled white … I shook hands with him and thought, ‘Why, he’s a little old coot!’ ”
The current issue of Motion Picture carried the cover story “Spencer Tracy’s Fight for Life!,” but it was mainly a rehash of the old triangle business that had also graced recent issues of Confidential, Modern Screen, and Inside Story. All showcased the same news agency shot of a distraught Louise behind the wheel of her car, intermingled with stills of Spence and Kate from their various films together. Hepburn wasn’t there when Frank came to visit, and the subject never turned to her, however obliquely.
He said, “Jesus, Frank, I never realized. I got letters from nuns in Australia praying for me, from priests in England I never knew.” He was crying. He said, “I didn’t—” I said, “For chrissakes, Spence, you’re a big star! You’re all over the world and have been for thirty years! They all saw you and admired you.” [From] some grade school in Australia the nun wrote and the kids all signed it. All praying for him. He couldn’t believe it. He said, “I heard from all my old friends—telegrams, letters, cards. The only guy I didn’t hear from, the son of a bitch, was Cagney.” He and Cagney got into some sort of a fight … I know Pat O’Brien tried to get them together on several occasions. (A couple of times he almost made it. They were going to have dinner, both of them were going to be in New York, or something, and Pat got it all set up, and one guy called up and said, “I can’t make it. I’ve got to do something else …”) Spence said, “That son of a bitch wouldn’t even wish me to get well.”1
There was now a further narrowing of his world, a result of both ill health and acquiescence. Kate became his full-time physician, the one who slept in the room at the other end of the hall, the one at the other end of the buzzer he always kept at the side of his bed. “She was one of the best doctors he ever had,” said Dr. Covel. “And when they were together, happily, I think, he didn’t feel he had the need for [the alcohol, the barbiturates, and the amphetamines]…They were just devoted to one another. Just violently interested in each other’s welfare. They worshiped one another.”
Katharine Houghton saw it from a more pragmatic angle: “Once he was sort of an invalid, Kate no longer had to worry about his dalliances. They had their ‘quiet little life’ as she called it, and she and he thrived on