The Other Side of Me

That was a major problem. We did not even have a story line. But I wanted O'Connor.

"Do you think you can have the script ready in time?"

"Sure." I sounded more confident than I felt. Rushing a script to get a certain actor is always counterproductive. The audience does not care how long it took to write a script. They only care about what they see on the screen. I had given Bob and myself an impossible deadline.

Getting the rights to Buster Keaton's life turned out to be easy.

Bob and I started on the screenplay immediately. There was a lot of material to work with because Buster's life had been very dramatic. He had come from a dysfunctional family and he had gone through divorces and a struggle with alcoholism. I had watched him in his early classics, The General, The Navigator, and The Boat. They were filled with dangerous stunts and Buster had insisted on doing them all himself.

I called Don Hartman. "Bob and I would like to meet Buster. Will you set it up?"

"Certainly."

I was looking forward to the meeting.

When Buster Keaton walked into my office, it was as though he had stepped right off the screen. He had not changed at all. He was the same little sad-faced man who had enchanted the world with his deadpan humor.

After the introductions, I said, "We would like you to be the technical advisor on this picture, Buster. What do you say?"

He almost broke tradition by smiling. "I think I can handle it."

"Great. We're going to film a lot of your stunts. I'll get a trailer on the lot for you and I want you to be on the set all the time we're shooting."

He looked, to me, as though he was trying not to cry but perhaps it was my imagination. "I'll be there."

"Thank you."

"Bob and I are working on the screenplay. We want it to be as accurate as possible. Are there any anecdotes that you'd like to tell me about, that we can use in the picture?"

"Nope."

"Perhaps some special things that happened to you in your life that you think might be exciting?"

"Nope."

"Something about your marriages or romances?"

"Nope."

The whole meeting went like that.

When he left, I said to Bob, "I forgot to mention something. If we want Donald O'Connor, we have to start shooting in two months."

He looked at me. "You're joking."

"I've never been more serious."

He sighed. "Let's see how fast we can write a screenplay."

Bob and I ran Buster's old movies. The stunts in them were incredible. I selected the ones I wanted to use, knowing that Buster would be on the set to show me how they were done.

Donald O'Connor came in to see me. "It's a great part," he said. "Buster Keaton is one of my idols."

"Mine, too."

"The Great Stone Face. This is going to be wonderful."

There was one problem. Bob and I needed more time to work on the screenplay, and there was no more time. We had a shooting date coming up that we had to keep, so we started working day and night.

Finally, it was time to begin production.

We had stayed as faithful as we could to Buster Keaton's life, but to increase the drama, we had taken some liberties. I showed Buster the screenplay and when he finished reading it, I said, "Do you have any problems with it?"

"Nope."

That was the full extent of our conversation.

The sets were built and production began.

The shoot was going well. The cast was wonderful. Besides Donald, we had Peter Lorre, Rhonda Fleming, Ann Blyth, Jackie Coogan, and Richard Anderson. The chemistry was good.

Bob and I had written a scene in which an old-time director appears. We had not cast him yet. The assistant director came up to me. "Would you like to have the old man play the part?"

I was puzzled. "What old man?"

"Mr. DeMille."

Cecil B. DeMille was, without question, one of the most important directors in Hollywood. Among many others, his recent pictures had included Samson and Delilah, The Greatest Show on Earth, and The Ten Commandments.

He was a legend and there were dozens of stories about him floating around town. He was known to be ruthless and demanding. He terrorized actors. There was a story that while he was shooting a scene in one of his epics, standing high on a platform, looking down at the hundreds of extras, he started to explain what he wanted, and saw two young women extras talking. He stopped. "You two," he called, "step up."

The two women looked at each other in horror.

"Us?"

"Yes, you. Step forward."

Nervously, they took a few steps forward.

"Now," DeMille thundered, "since you obviously think that what you were saying was more important than what I was saying, I think everyone should hear it."

The women were embarrassed and terrified. "Mr. DeMille - we weren't saying anything."

"Yes, you were. I want everyone to hear what you were saying."

One of the girls spoke up, and said defiantly, "All right. I was saying, 'When is that son of a bitch going to call lunch?'"

There was a shocked silence throughout the set.

DeMille stared at her for a long moment and then said, "Lunch."

"You're mad," I said to my assistant director. "DeMille is not going to play this part. It's four lines."

"Do you want me to talk to him?"

"Sure." I knew there was no chance.

Late that afternoon, the assistant director came to me. "We're shooting the scene tomorrow. He'll be here."

I was stunned. "He's going to do it?"