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Authors: Tom Mankiewicz

My Life as a Mankiewicz

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MY LIFE AS A MANKIEWICZ

An Insider's Journey
through Hollywood

Tom Mankiewicz

and

Robert Crane

Copyright © 2012 by The Estate of Tom Mankiewicz and Robert Crane

Scholarly publisher for the Commonwealth,
serving Bellarmine University, Berea College, Centre College of Kentucky, Eastern Kentucky University, The Filson Historical Society, Georgetown College, Kentucky Historical Society, Kentucky State University, Morehead State University, Murray State University, Northern Kentucky University, Transylvania University, University of Kentucky, University of Louisville, and Western Kentucky University.
All rights reserved.

Editorial and Sales Offices:
The University Press of Kentucky
663 South Limestone Street, Lexington, Kentucky 40508-4008
www.kentuckypress.com

16 15 14 13 12  5 4 3 2 1

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Mankiewicz, Tom.

My life as a Mankiewicz : an insider's journey through Hollywood / Tom Mankiewicz and Robert Crane.

   p. cm. — (Screen classics)

Includes bibliographical references and index.

ISBN 978-0-8131-3605-9 (hardcover : alk. paper) —

ISBN 978-0-8131-3616-5 (pdf) — ISBN 978-0-8131-4057-5 (epub)

1. Mankiewicz, Tom. 2. Motion picture producers and directors—United
States—Biography. 3. Screenwriters—United States—Biography.
4. Television producers and directors—United States—Biography.
I. Crane, Robert David. II. Title.

PN1998.3.M3206A3 2012

791.4302'33092—dc23

[B]                                                   2012008587

This book is printed on acid-free paper meeting the requirements of the American National Standard for Permanence in Paper for Printed Library Materials.

Manufactured in the United States of America.

Member of the Association of American University Presses

To Jerry Moss,
Ann Stevens,
Ron Mardigian,
and the Mankiewicz family

Preface

During spring 1990 I was working for actor John Candy and his company, Frostbacks Productions, in a variety of positions, including producer, publicist, and assistant. The few of us there wore multiple hats. I stuck by John's side as he filmed
Delirious
, directed by Tom Mankiewicz, in New York, Santa Barbara, and Universal City. Although John came from a working-class background in Toronto and Tom was part of the iconic Hollywood family, they hit it off immediately. Tom made references to Yale, John made references to
SCTV.
John danced with Emma Samms and romanced Mariel Hemingway, while Tom was hitting his stride directing his second feature (after the hit
Dragnet).
Doug Claybourne
(Apocalypse Now)
produced, Tom's long-time assistant Annie Stevens associate produced, and Fred Freeman and Lawrence Cohen wrote a funny script. Raymond Burr and Dylan Baker went against type and delivered comic lines, while Charlie Rocket and David Rasche were hysterical. Tom's
Hart to Hart
cohort Robert Wagner worked two days and thoroughly impressed John. The shoot turned out to be a three-month love-in.

But the best part of the ten-week experience was the end of each shooting day. John and his posse would visit Tom's trailer, or Tom and any number of cast members, producers, and crew would drop in on John's dressing room. A rum and Coke was poured for John, a Jack Daniel's for Tom. Cigarettes would be lit. The rest of us hovered and listened while the stories poured out of Tom. Brando, Sinatra, Bogart, Liz Taylor, Kubrick, Ava Gardner, Lancaster, Liza, Scorsese, Sophia, Sean Connery; 007, Superman, Detective Joe Friday; Cinecittà, Jamaica, London; the fifties, sixties, seventies; Papa Joe, Uncle Herman, Zanuck, Cohn; Nancy Sinatra, Herb Alpert, Paul McCartney. Laughs, tears, jaws dropping, heads shaking.

Damn. Tom had been everywhere and had worked with, played with, or slept with everyone in Hollywood (just females on the sleepovers). John was mesmerized. He and all of us were transported to another time, another place, when Hollywood was the entertainment capital of the world and actors, actresses, and filmmakers were the best ambassadors the United States could offer. Before we knew it, the clock would strike midnight and in six hours the whole thing would start over again.

The distributor of
Delirious
, MGM, was in the tank financially, and the picture got a tepid release. But I made note of Tom's stories. The man was a walking Hollywood encyclopedia.

The next time I saw Tom was in 1993 when he visited John's farm north of Toronto. Tom was directing
Taking the Heat
, a low-budget Showtime film. He was miserable, though he loved his cast, of course. John made Tom laugh. It was worth the drive.

In 1994, after John Candy's death at age forty-three, I interviewed Tom at his Hollywood Hills home for an A&E Biography on John. Tom was a wonderful interviewee—funny and insightful, providing stories, quips, and observations from someone who watches and studies people. A writer-director.

During 2005–2006, while I was working on a book with actor Bruce Dern, a wonderful storyteller in his own right, I kept mentioning to my wife, Leslie, that I was going to call Tom to see what he was up to.

I didn't call Tom until 2009. I was asked to appear on yet another John Candy Biography, but I had a horrible cold and declined. I suggested Tom to the producers. He delivered another powerful anecdotal piece on his buddy. Tom's quotes appear throughout the hour, and he elevates the show above the usual surface-skimming fare.

I met with Tom and Ron Mardigian, his former agent at William Morris, at Tom's “office,” table number forty, the Palm West Hollywood. We had a laugh-filled lunch full of reminiscence. Tom mentioned he had started a book years earlier with his assistant/associate producer/cohort/shrink Annie Stevens but they hadn't got beyond seventy-five pages. Maybe now was the time to share the stories with the world at large.

Tom and I started meeting four days a week at his home with the 180-degree view of downtown L.A.–Century City–Pacific Ocean. His fifth day was spent teaching film at Chapman University in Orange. At least a couple days a week ended with the meeting moving to the Palm, where Tom had his usual table among regulars such as Richard Zanuck, whose father, Darryl, ran Fox when Tom's father, Joe, directed
Cleopatra.
Full circle, indeed. The sessions were punctuated with great fare complemented by white wine for Tom and Tanqueray and tonics for me. They went on for months. They could have gone on for years.

In spring 2010 Tom suffered a physical setback. He was dropping weight, while the timbre of his voice changed and the laughs were not as constant. Pancreatic cancer. Tom assured all that everything was fine, he would get stronger, the book would continue. Except for a stay at Cedars-Sinai in Los Angeles, the writing did continue, as did his teaching.

During mid-2010, though he didn't appear to be gaining weight, Tom's voice and energy returned as before. Leslie and I attended an L.A. Zoo benefit where Tom was an emcee, and we met his best friend, Jerry Moss. Except for the pounds, it seemed Tom would kick this and return to his former self. One Tuesday in July 2010 we had a meeting at the Palm. Tom was in great form—stories abounded, laughs were had, drinks were poured. I hoped this man would live forever.

Four days later, my wife received a call from Suzy Friendly, who knew Jerry Moss and worked for his former wife, Sandra. “Tom died,” announced Suzy. Leslie told me.

“Tom Munn?” I asked, referring to another friend.

“No. Tom Mankiewicz,” said Leslie. I couldn't believe it. Tom was back. Stronger, more insightful, funnier than ever. His family and friends were robbed.

The Palm shut down his booth at lunch for a solid month. When I go in occasionally, I can still hear his unique voice, phrasing, terminology, reference points rise above the lunch crowd.

Robert Crane

Prologue

This Will Never Happen to You

 

It's 1964. I'm twenty-two years old, working on a film as an assistant-to-everyone, and am lucky enough to have been taken under the wing of the volcanically talented Gene Kelly, with whom I play tennis several times a week. Gene has invited me to dinner at his home. Among the guests is the brilliant actor Oskar Werner, who is shooting
Ship of Fools
at the time. Werner also turns out to be rather unpleasant when he's been drinking heavily. One of the others at the table finishes a story, looks at Werner, and says, “You Germans ought to understand that…”

“I'm not German, I'm Austrian!” snaps Werner.

There is a silence. Being a young suck-up and anxious to please, I observe: “You have to understand that calling an Austrian a German is rather like calling an Irishman an Englishman. They don't appreciate it.”

“You're right!” says Werner. “How do you know that?”

“My mother was Austrian. As a matter of fact, she was an actress.”

“Really? What was her name?”

“Rosa Stradner.”

Werner's eyes roll back in his head, trying to find the memory: “The Josefstadt Theater, Vienna, mid-thirties?”

“Yes, she was at the Josefstadt Theater in the thirties.”

He leans forward with profound sincerity: “When I first masturbated, it was to a picture of your mother.”

Stunned silence at the table, punctuated by dropped silverware. Realizing he must have meant it as a compliment, I say, “Thank you.”

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