Temple Tuesday: Joel McCrea

In the 1935 Shirley Temple film “Our Little Girl,” Shirley’s parents were played by Joel McCrea and Rosemary Ames. It is probably one of my least favorite Temple movies as it is an extremely heavy movie, dealing with divorce and how it affects the “little girl.” While his name has faded over the years, Joel McCrea had a solid career from the 1930’s-1950’s working with some of Hollywood’s greatest directors, including Alfred Hitchcock, Preston Sturges, and Cecil B. DeMille.



In “Our Little Girl,” McCrea plays the dedicated doctor who gets so caught up in his lab formulas that he begins to neglect his wife and daughter. Eventually, the wife begins to stray, the family falls apart, and a divorce seems imminent. Since this is a Temple movie, you can figure out who single-handedly puts everything back together.



In her autobiography, Child Star, Shirley recalled an embarrassing moment that did not endear her to McCrea:

My puppy, Sniff, and I were examining a grasshopper at close range. Suddenly I sneezed. Two front porcelain dental caps fluttered off into space and disappeared among the dry grass blades. Without them filming could not proceed, so everyone crawled around gently fingering through the stubble to recover my caps, a search in vain. Rather than being charmed, McCrea was annoyed at the delay, particularly when director John Robertson was forced to cancel all filming and sent us home again for my “instant” dentist to practice his magic. En route, I was seated beside McCrea; a loose tooth dislodged itself into my hand. It is hard to carry on a romantic reconciliation with one’s teeth falling out.



According to the AFI website, McCrea was originally considered as the male lead in the blockbuster “King Kong” (1933) but eventually Bruce Cabot was hired “because he was perceived as better suited to the physical demands of the part.” One of McCrea’s best remembered films is the Preston Sturges off-beat comedy, “Sullivan’s Travels” (1941).



Edited from the Sturges biography, Between Flops by James Curtis:

Sturges wrote Sullivan’s Travels with a specific actor in mind: Joel McCrea. It was a story that demanded the kind of low-key sincerity in which McCrea specialized. Sturges liked the actor’s blank, no-nonsense quality that made him a favorite with top directors. “He knew he could mold me,” McCrea said. “Most of the other male stars bring a certain thing; Cagney, for instance, would always be Cagney. But this guy was John L. Sullivan—he couldn’t be a movie star. He could be Sturges, he could be me.” McCrea and Sturges had known each other casually for nearly a decade. “I first met Preston out at Fox,” he recalled, “where he had just written a script called “The Power and the Glory”…I went over there to see Spence Tracy on the set and I was just sitting there and the script was on the side of the chair so I picked it up and looked at it. It was so good and the dialogue was so good I remarked about it and Preston was there. He was kind of standing in the back and he bowed graciously and said, ‘I’m delighted you think that’s a good script.’ I said, ‘Well, the dialogue is really outstanding.’ It was kind of a nice meeting because I was complimenting him without knowing who he was.” Years later, after lunching with Cecil B. DeMille in the Paramount commissary, McCrea passed Sturges’ table. “I’d like to talk to you,” Sturges told him. “I’ve written a script for  you.” The actor was unconvinced. “No one writes a script for me,” he replied. “They write a script for Gary Cooper and if they can’t get him they use me.” Sturges laughed. “He got a kick out of that,” said McCrea. “He said, ‘No, no. This wasn’t written for anyone else. It’s called Sullivan’s Travels and it’s all original with me, it’s not taken from anything. It’s all mine.’ So I said, ‘Well, that’s very interesting.’ So I went over to his office and he gave me a script and we had a nice visit. I liked him right away. He was a very intelligent fellow and I really was interested in it.…He was what you could call ‘intelligently conceited. He knew he was great. He knew what he was doing was good. He didn’t question that what he was doing was going to get great reviews from the very first day he started shooting.”

Like many of Sturges’ films, this one bears repeated viewings to completely appreciate it. A warning should also be attached to it for those who are expecting a knee-slapping laughfest. While considered a comedy, it is unvarnished in its depiction of those who are less fortunate. Sturges didn’t want to make a message movie and intended this one as a satire of all the “serious” moviemakers. Yet, the second part of the movie is a bit heavy-handed and depressing, albeit with an abrupt “happy ending.” Coincidentally, the cameraman on this film was the same one from “Our Little Girl,” John Seitz. 



Sturges and McCrea also worked together on “The Palm Beach Story” (1942), a classic screwball comedy starring Claudette Colbert, Mary Astor, and Rudy Vallee. Lighter in tone than “Sullivan’s”, it too lends itself to repeated viewings because of its rapid-fire dialogue and off the wall situations. Colbert is magnificent and so is Mary Astor. McCrea is perfection as the dour husband whose lack of financial success causes his wife (Colbert) to drift.



McCrea was married to actress Frances Dee from 1933 until his death at age 84 in 1990. The two had three sons together. McCrea once listed his job as “rancher” and his hobby as “acting.” He owned a 3,000 acre ranch where he lived, raised cattle, and rode horses.

See more Shirley Temple and Joel McCrea photos at my main website.

Temple Tuesday: Where's Shirley?

This recent acquisition to my Shirley Temple collection had me baffled; I was fairly confident that it was from 1945, but had no idea where it was taken. The door behind Shirley was distinctive, but it didn’t match her Brentwood residence. The program in her hand made me think it could be a premiere or an event…but who knows without any writing showing. I turned to Shirley expert supreme, Rita Dubas, who had the mystery solved in less than 24 hours. See the Fox Carthay Circle Theatre below, in a 1953 image from my collection?



Rita pointed out the doors that were a perfect match to the ones in the Shirley photo.



She was also able to correctly identify the event as the Look Magazine Awards that were held there on February 20, 1945. Below is a photo from that event with Director Leon Shamroy, Shirley, Bing Crosby, Margaret O’Brien, Bob Hope, and Director Leo McCarey.



The award that Shirley was given:



Auctioned off years later by Theriault’s, here is the description from the catalog:

THE LOOK ACHIEVEMENT MEDALLION AWARD PRESENTED TO SHIRLEY TEMPLE IN 1945 Lot Number:  49 1 1/2" A gilded bronze medal with raised profile of a woman symbolizing the Look Magazine award has raised lettering on the back “Shirley Temple Look 1945 Film Achievement Award.” Included is a presentation booklet for February 20, 1945 events at the Carthay Circle Theatre in which Shirley Temple is cited for her performance in the 1944 film “Since You Went Away.” Realized Price:  $650 • Presale Estimate:  500+



The auction included the presentation booklet that we saw in the first photo from this post:



This photo from my collection is most likely from the same evening, taken at Ciro’s nightclub on Sunset Boulevard. Shirley is dancing with agent Henry Willson; Bob Hope is on the far right.



While I was stumbling down this rabbit hole, I came across this shot of actress Lois Maxwell from the 1948 Golden Globes. She is holding onto the most promising newcomer award for “That Hagen Girl,” which starred Shirley and Ronald Reagan.



Here’s a shot from my collection of Reagan and Maxwell:



Mary Astor won the Oscar for “The Great Lie” (1941). This publicity still for that movie shows her wearing the very same cape that Maxwell was wearing at the Golden Globes seven years later. Who do you think wore it better?



You just never know what goodies you’ll come up with once you start digging.

See more Shirley Temple photos at my main website.

Mary Astor Monday

Mary Astor had a long and steady career in the movies that began in silent pictures, such as 1924’s “Beau Brummel” with John Barrymore. Prior to the making of this movie, the 17-year-old Astor was accompanied everywhere by her parents, as she was the meal ticket that allowed them to live a very lavish life. Somehow, the 41-year-old Barrymore convinced her father through a combination of flattery, deceit, and quite a bit of BS that he needed private time with Astor to help groom her into a true actress. They fell for it (for the most part) and a secret affair blossomed between the two for a few years until Barrymore got tired of Astor’s inability to stand-up to her parents and tell them to…



While her star continued to ascend, she made headlines for a completely different reason. Involved in a bitter custody dispute with ex-husband Dr. Franklyn Thorpe in 1936, things got even nastier when passages from her private diary were leaked to the press.



Thorpe had stolen the diary and attempted to use it as a tool to make Astor give up custody of their daughter Marylyn. Astor finally got sick of being taken advantage of by others and called his bluff. While the diary was ruled inadmissible in court for having been tampered with and mutilated, the press had a field day with the supposed tales of Astor’s sexual exploits, most of which had been fabricated.



While it was embarrassing for the actress, she refused to waiver and was even backed by the film studio she was currently working for in the blockbuster movie “Dodsworth,” despite the morality clause in her contract. In her autobiography, she said that the strength of the character that she played in “Dodsworth” (seen below) was what she channeled up on the witness stand, allowing her to remain calm and composed throughout the entire trial.



Here’s the victorious Mary with her daughter after the trial:



1941 was a banner year for Astor, with a starring role in “The Maltese Falcon”:



…and an Oscar for the Bette Davis potboiler “The Great Lie”:



Looking for financial security, she signed a contract with MGM, who wasted her talents on predictably bland mother roles. There were a few highlights during her servitude there, including Judy Garland’s mother in “Meet Me In St. Louis,” where she held the Smith family together as the father attempts to haul them off to that evil city, New York.



After she left MGM, her career began to slow down and she moved to a number of television roles, including “The Thief” with up and coming actor James Dean. Astounded by his mumbling and lack of professionalism, she was even more astounded when she watched the broadcast and saw him walk away with the teleplay and the accolades.



Overcoming alcoholism, Astor also began to write, publishing her bestselling memoir, “My Story: An Autobiography.” If you haven’t read it, you should.

She finished her career in the 1964 Bette Davis murder mystery, “Hush...Hush, Sweet Charlotte.”



While largely forgotten today, she is still remembered for a very self-deprecating but not entirely untrue and insightful quote:

There are five stages in the life of an actor: 'Who's Mary Astor? Get me Mary Astor. Get me a Mary Astor type. Get me a young Mary Astor. Who's Mary Astor?'

See more Mary Astor photos at my main website.