The Elephant to Hollywood - Michael Caine [42]
Of all the movie stars and producers and celebrities passing before my dazed eyes, there was one man in particular who was destined to play an especially important role in my new life. And he was the smallest man in the room: at just over five foot tall, I could easily have missed him. But his size was the only small thing about Irving Lazar. He was one of the greatest agents of all time – his clients included Noël Coward, Gene Kelly, Ernest Hemingway, Cary Grant and my idol, Humphrey Bogart. In fact it was Bogey who gave him his well-known nickname of ‘Swifty’, because he once got him three movie deals in one day. Swifty – no one ever called him ‘Swifty’ to his face, he was always ‘Irving’, except when he answered the phone which he would do with a very clipped ‘Lazar here’ – was the first person to get a million dollars for a script (for My Fair Lady) and the first person to get a million dollars for an artist (Elizabeth Taylor for Cleopatra). And it was he who would persuade me, years later, to write my first autobiography. So I’ve got a lot to thank Swifty – sorry, Irving – for.
Later, when I got to know Hollywood better, I realised that Shirley had indeed pulled in the A list that night. It was a dazzling event and among the whole host of people I met were many who would go on to become some of my closest friends, including Swifty and Sidney Poitier. ‘Who is this party really for?’ I asked Shirley about halfway through. She smiled her wonderful smile and said, ‘You, Michael, only you!’ but only she could have pulled it off in that town: she was so loved.
The night after the party, I was invited to a quiet Chinese dinner in Danny Kaye’s kitchen. It really was a kitchen, and Danny Kaye really did do the cooking himself, with the help of a Chinese chef. I didn’t know it then, but these were famous evenings and I would end up going to many of them, but that night was my first time and it was a memorable one. We went into the kitchen and Shirley introduced me to the other guests: two English naval officers and a bald American who was wearing dark glasses, which was odd inside a house and at night, to say the least. I was completely mystified – and then in walked the Duke of Edinburgh (hands behind his back, just like Gonville Bromhead) and it became obvious that they were his security. And then, as if the guest list didn’t feature enough surprises, in walked Cary Grant. I was overwhelmed and sat almost silent throughout the meal, only speaking when I was spoken to. ‘Old Ipcress’ was how the Duke referred to me then and many times since. I had actually met Cary Grant in Bristol while he was visiting his mother and I was on location, but I was too shy to remind him of this or to talk much to him. Many years later when we moved to Beverly Hills we would become good friends, but on this evening he was still one of my idols and I was very much in awe.
Feeling a little more in command of myself by the end of the evening, I escorted Shirley home. As we approached her house I saw clouds of smoke pouring out from it. I pulled the driver up. ‘Shirley,’ I said, ‘I’m very sorry, but I think your house might be on fire.’ ‘Oh, Michael,’ she said. ‘That’s just the steam from the swimming pool.’ Welcome to Hollywood, I thought.
Dinner in Danny Kaye’s kitchen with Prince Philip and Cary Grant seemed a strange idea of a quiet relaxing night off, but when Shirley invited me to dinner with her family the following evening I felt sure that this really wouldn’t present any surprises. I couldn’t have been more wrong. When I walked into the restaurant, there was Shirley, her mum and dad – and Warren Beatty. Now, Warren and I had knocked about together in London a couple of years earlier. He’d heard what was going on in Swinging London and come over to see what it was like. I knew he was a bit of a jack-the-lad, but I had no idea he was