Last Man Standing: Tales from Tinseltown (29 page)

On another occasion HAT was in Rio shooting a film with his favoured director, Jess Franco, who had a reputation for shooting very quickly. They were over a week ahead of schedule, with their next shots being of the finale of the Rio Carnival. Faced with putting his cast and crew on paid hiatus to await the annual festivities, HAT decided to write a script called
99 Women
over the weekend and, with his three female leads, director and crew, shot its action and location sequences in five days, before resuming work on the other film. By the time he returned to London he had one complete film and another third of
99 Women
in the can.

There is an anecdote, possibly apocryphal, about how Towers tried to persuade Herbert Lom, another of his favoured leading actors, to join the cast of a new Harry Palmer spy movie,
Bullet to Beijing
, starring Michael Caine.

‘It will be shot in Russia in an exciting location where few film crews have ever gone,’ said Harry, without naming the place.

When Lom insisted on knowing where it was, Towers replied, after some hesitation, ‘Um … Chernobyl.’

HAT had done a deal with Len Deighton to bring his famous spy creation back to the screens, although I believe he had to do a separate deal with Harry Saltzman, as in the first book the spy didn’t have a name – that was a creation of the film that Harry Saltzman had produced. So to use the name ‘Harry Palmer’ didn’t have a clear title of use in a new film and necessitated a bit of negotiation.

HAT had found some money in the newly opened-up
Russia, tied it up with a Canadian/UK co-production and secured Michael Caine for the lead. Filming in the former Soviet Union meant buying certain friendships and protection. Towers said, ‘Russia welcomed us with open palms.’

On another occasion, cameraman Ronnie Maasz told me about joining one of HAT’s productions in Salzburg. Rather than pay to shoot in a studio, the prudent producer opted to adapt hotel bedrooms, houses, offices and any other setting he could acquire cheaply, with sets dressed as they went along. The actors were mainly German (as that’s where his finance came from) and Ronnie discovered they had actually started the film in Prague, but for ‘financial reasons’ everything was transported across the border overnight and re-set in Austria.

The first shot was to be of an exotic white sports car, but a rusty old Czech Tatra turned up. HAT declared it only needed a quick re-spray – and he knew just where to get it done. An hour later, the car returned to the set sporting a new paint job that was a curiously flat shade of white. Soon after, it started to rain and the colour washed off the car – he’d had it painted on the cheap and the local painter had used emulsion! Not to be outdone, HAT approached a local shopper and asked if he could borrow his white sports car, to which, amazingly, the local agreed. Unfortunately, though, Harry failed to think ahead to the next day’s shooting requirements. So, on day two another white car was found – an entirely different model – and HAT ordered shooting to continue, reasoning, ‘No one will notice – they’ll be too caught up in the plot!’ Needless to say, everyone noticed!

With Tony Curtis and Lord Lew Grade, a formidable producer and a great friend.

One time, filming in Rome, I met for lunch with an old friend of mine. Vincenzo Labella was a lecturer in Vatican History and Art in Florence and Rome, and later became a very successful writer and producer, after starting out as a technical advisor on
Francis of Assisi
. Over lunch, Vincenzo told me his next project as a producer was going to be on the television series
Jesus of Nazareth
for Lew Grade. In fact, it transpired, he was going to the airport that very afternoon to pick Lew up, as they had some meetings to
attend about the new series.

It was an opportunity I couldn’t resist. I asked Vincenzo if I could act as their chauffeur. I said I would wear a jacket and cap … all I asked was that Vincenzo went along with anything I said.

‘OK,’ he said, eyeing me suspiciously.

At the airport, Lew got into the back of the car, puffing on his trademark cigar, and, without looking around, in my best Italian I asked, ‘
Dove vorresti che guidi?
’

‘What? What did he say?’ barked Lew.

‘Oh,’ said Vincenzo, ‘he just asked where are we going.’

‘What sort of driver is he if he doesn’t know where we’re going?’ Lew snapped.

‘It’s OK, he’s merely confirming ...’ said Vincenzo.

I started driving and waited for them to become engrossed in conversation before I interrupted them. ‘
Mi scusi, signore, ma la prego di chiedere al signore si è alla guida con se posso avere uno dei suoi magnifici sigari?
’

‘What? What did he say now?’ asked an irritated Lew.

‘He wants to know if he can have one of your fine cigars?’ said Vincenzo.

‘What the bloody hell is going on here?’ cried Lew.

I turned around and smiled.

‘Stop the car!’ he shouted. He got out, went to the boot, pulled out a huge box of Monte Cristos and gave them to me, laughing his head off. Lew’s trademark was his wonderful, large Havana cigar. Comedian Dave Allen always said of him, ‘Never wear a brown suit when you’re around Lew as he’ll pick you up and try to light you.’

Lew was a great friend to me, and although he was of Jewish-Russian extraction, I think he’d have converted to any religion if it meant getting a deal. Kathy, Lady Grade,
is Catholic and when she was invited to an audience with the Pope in Rome in the 1970s, Lew naturally travelled with her.

‘Roger,’ he later told me, ‘Pope held Kathy’s hand and blessed her, blessed her family and blessed the work of her beloved husband. Then Pope called me over, and do you know what Pope said, Roger? He said “Mr Grade, I want to bless you for all of the great work you produce and in particular I want to thank you for making
Jesus of Nazareth
”.’

‘Oh really, Lew?’

‘Yes, and do you know what else, Roger? Well, the following Sunday when Pope came out on his balcony to bless the crowds in St Peter’s Square ...’

‘Yes, Lew?’ I asked.

‘Well, Roger. That Sunday he held up his hands to bless the crowds and said, “Bless you my children, and be sure you watch
Jesus of Nazareth
on TV tonight!”’

Lew initially sold the series to NBC in America, and such was its popularity that NBC asked Lew to fly over to negotiate a deal for repeat screening rights. Just before he left he received a call from Proctor & Gamble Entertainment saying that they wanted to buy the show and all future rerun rights with it. It was hot property.

On the plane going over to LA, Lew said he had a vision, ‘And that vision was of the number 25’. He knew it wasn’t $25 and it couldn’t be $25,000, so when he went in to his first meeting with the P&G executives he told them the price was $25 million.

They told him he was crazy.

He went to see NBC next, as planned, and they asked how much he wanted. ‘$25 million,’ he beamed.

They only wanted five re-runs and after an hour of negotiating said their top price was $15.5 million – Lew wasn’t interested.

His next LA meeting was at CBS, where he was pitching a new mini-series with Sophia Loren and Omar Sharif, but he felt the executives just weren’t biting and couldn’t figure out why, so he asked them point blank if he’d done anything to upset them.

‘What about offering us repeats of
Jesus of Nazareth
?’ they asked.

‘NBC have first option to buy it and I want $25 million,’ said Lew.

‘OK, when do you want to know?’ they asked.

‘I’m leaving for the airport at 4 p.m.’

‘You’ll hear from us by then.’

Lew, meanwhile, called back NBC and said they had twenty-eight minutes to reach a decision on buying the show, and the price was $25 million, take it or leave it. It was chutzpah on a grand scale. Ten minutes later, the chairman, Herbert Schlosser, called him. ‘Lew, we’ve been friends for fifteen years. How can you do this to me? I need time.’

‘You’ve got twenty minutes left,’ Lew said, ‘before I offer it to CBS.’

Sure enough, NBC came up with the $25 million.

When asked later how he arrived at the visionary figure, Lew shook his head and said, ‘I don’t know, but I couldn’t believe they paid it!’

While
Jesus of Nazareth
was a production triumph for Lew’s company, ITC, the jewel in his weekly network television schedule was undoubtedly the variety show
Sunday Night at the London Palladium
, and one Sunday Lew
made a star out of a puppet act called ‘Topo Gigio’. A few months later they were short of a ‘top of the bill’ act and on the Friday prior to the show word came back to Lew that he was not to worry as they’d secured Tito Gobbi (the famous Italian baritone).

‘Aww, no!’ cried Lew. ‘Not that bloody mouse act again.’

Towards the end of his life, Lew was approached by the chiefs at Polygram Films, who hit the jackpot in 1994 with
Four Weddings and a Funeral,
and who had then recently acquired the ITC library of programmes and films that Lew had green-lit, financed and/or produced – including
The Saint, The Persuaders!, Randall & Hopkirk Deceased, The Baron, The Champions, Raise the Titanic
,
Escape to Athena
and so on. It was a vast library and had been wrestled from Lew in the 1980s after he lost control of his empire due to some unfortunate business dealings.

Anyhow, the proposition was for Lew to be appointed non-executive chairman of Polygram – a figurehead position more than anything else. They offered him the annual salary of £100,000.

‘That’s not enough,’ said Lew abruptly. ‘Make it £150,000.’

The two chiefs, Stewart Till and Michael Kuhn, were a little taken aback as they were effectively offering him a job with little work involved for a not inconsiderable sum of money.

‘But, Lew, we can’t go any higher! You only have to attend a couple of meetings a year,’ they reasoned.

‘Well, you boys think about it,’ said Lew.

Deflated and somewhat stumped, Till and Kuhn said they’d get back to Lew after their impending trip to Germany, where they hoped to conclude a deal with the
huge Kirsch Media TV empire to license some of the ITC shows.

‘I’ll come with you!’ said Lew. ‘If I’m going to be chairman I need to earn my £150,000.’

Despite their protests that they had already more or less sewn up the deal and didn’t need any help, Lew was insistent.

Arriving at Heathrow airport to board their flight a couple of days later, they saw Lew emerge from his Rolls-Royce and enter the departure hall, trademark cigar firmly in his mouth. The ‘no smoking’ policy was something completely alien to Lew and consequently something he ignored. His young executive friends wondered what they might be getting themselves into with this larger-than-life character who lived life very much on his terms and who seemed adamant that lending his name to their already successful company was worth £150,000.

On arriving at Kirsch HQ, Lew was immediately whisked up to see Leo Kirsch, the head of the company, and launched straight into Yiddish with his old friend. They swiftly disappeared, arm-in-arm, into an office, while Kuhn and Till were left outside worrying that their long-gestating deal was about to be blown. A few minutes later, Lew emerged.

‘OK, boys. The deal is done,’ he told them. ‘Let’s go for lunch.’

Kuhn and Till, by now rather furious, told Lew he had no right to interfere with their negotiations and that he didn’t even know how much they’d bargained on getting, so had undoubtedly sold them short.

‘How much did you want?’ asked Lew.

‘We were edging towards £200,000,’ said ‘the boys’.

‘I just got you £300,000, boys,’ Lew smiled. ‘Now you see why I’m worth that extra fifty?’

Needless to say, Lew became their chairman at his proposed fee.

There was much talk of remaking some of the classic TV shows, and I know Lew was very keen to revisit his past successes and took to the chat show sofas to talk about it all. Sadly, Lew passed away before many of his plans could come to fruition. Soon after, Polygram hit financial problems and the company’s Dutch parent company announced it was withdrawing from film production, selling its catalogue to ITV.