One is indeed dealt some strange hands – and I don't mean that in a bad way. Not long after a lengthy bull session – a Sunday standard at Casa Neuhaus – always attended by a variety of movie and TV freaks not unlike myself...something quite wonderful happened. We had been discussing Sherry Jackson – the remarkable show biz survivor who we literally did see grow up before our eyes; from gangly tomboy adolescent to teen queen to 60s femme fatale, Sherry did it all. In fact, we had decided, when it came to the most beautiful of the scores of Baby Boomer fantasies, Sherry led the U.S. pack (alongside your Bond girls, the Hammer Film sorority, Euro babes...etc., etc.). In America, there were surely some higher profile names – Ann-Margret, Tuesday Weld, Raquel Welch...the list goes on and on...But why did we unofficially nominate Sherry? Because it's as if she had a time machine –as if she magically hand-picked the most iconic projects to appear in. Although her contemporaries glided through big screen prestige pics, Sherry remains immortal – acing not only in Star Trek, but Batman, Lost in Space andThe Twilight Zone. The Trek episode alone, considered by many to be one of the greatest of the series, is due in great part to her dramatization and character. Luck often has a lot to do with this kind of stuff – being in the right place at the right time...but Sherry's “luck” continued well into the 70s. When the Welds and Welches were winding down...doing less and less, Sherry Jackson was revving up. I can't think of a week back then when she wasn't appearing on at least one of the networks, and, again, we're talking iconic – Charlie’s Angels, The Rockford Files, The Streets of San Francisco, Starsky and Hutch, Vega$.
But back to the crux of this piece. Not long after this conversation took place, I received an email from...Sherry Jackson! She had read some of my articles and DVD reviews and wanted to tell me how much she liked them. We started talking – and the rest, while maybe not history, helped make my existence a bit more tolerable in these tumultuous lean times...and definitely more fun. “We should do an article.” Can't remember who came up with that one – I believe it may have been simultaneous. Thinking about how to compress an enormous colorful career into one piece was a problem I knew would not work. Way too much good stuff! I prepared my notes, questions, ideas and, on a recent rainy spring day, we spent the morning and most of the afternoon immersed in perhaps the best phone conversation I've had since the time Mimsy Farmer and I once talked about working together. Obviously I'm an admirer – transcending far beyond the perk of hanging out with one of the most beautiful women of the 1960s. In an interview, ga-ga quality ultimately ends up meaning little. Sherry Jackson, as her career choices indicate, is one intuitive lady; she's also one of the sweetest, funniest and most knowledgeable – that one can add “wickedly so” to the middle attribute is yet another plus - as crucial to my approving makeup as not creating jobs is to the Republican House. My observations and comments (as you may have already gathered) are in italics.
Sherry's real life (as opposed to reel life) is in and of itself enough to fill the narrative of a movie; in fact, it's enough to fill 20 movies!
My mother was a real show biz mom. As far back as I can remember mother was putting me and my two brothers through dance classes…child modeling….the whole deal. My oldest brother landed a part in a Bob Hope movie (can’t remember which one), and while the picture was in production, my dad died. So there was my mom – widowed with three kids. At that point, she decided that her number one goal was to get us all on unemployment at the same time. At first, I was so small, I needed help to reach the shelf to sign the check; the day I could finally do it on my own – sign my unemployment check on tip-toes – was the biggest thing in my life! The cattle calls continued, and I actually got to test for Olivia de Havilland’s daughter in The Snake Pit [1948]. It would have been my first movie, but I got chicken pox.
My actual film debut was in a Dan Dailey and Anne Baxter musical at Fox, You're My Everything. I had this great dance scene with Dan Dailey. We were all so excited, went to the grand premiere…Chill Wills brought me up on stage. Lots of hoopla. Talking about my big number…Then the lights went down, the movie started and we sat there shocked: they had chopped all but one small bit out. My first experience on the cutting room floor!
While appearances in a number of other pictures followed (usually uncredited), including Ma and Pa Kettle Go to Town, The Next Voice You Hear and Where Danger Lives, I can’t contain my excitement anymore. I must bring up The Breaking Point (1950), the second and most faithful of three adaptations of Hemingway's To Have and Have Not. The Hawks version with Bogart and Bacall occupies its own universe, and almost can't be fairly used in comparison. Most of the plot has been lifted to wartime France. The original story revolved around human trafficking from Cuba to Florida – real prime noir fodder. I love this movie, my favorite John Garfield flick, and, possibly my favorite Michael Curtiz picture. The third version – 1958 B-actioner, directed by Don Siegel and starring Audie Murphy, concentrated more on pulp violence; it's pretty good too, but The Breaking Point is the best. Naturally it's the one Garfield movie that is never shown on his TCM birthday salute; in fact, it never seems to be shown anywhere!
I don’t have a lot of memories The Breaking Point – I was still so young, but I do have vivid ones. I remember Patricia Neal - that she had an amazing presence. I was in total awe of her; when she walked into a room – she owned it! Everything seemed to light up. Talk about star power!
Most of all, I remember a long scene with John Garfield, who played my father. I was told he was a “Method” actor, but at that time I really didn’t know what that meant. He had two daughters and one had died. When he looked at me, he was projecting his grief, but also his past joy – the whole experience of being a father. I told myself I knew he must have a daughter, as no one ever related to me like he did. His understanding, his performance – he had so much love and warmth towards the person I played…It’s heart-wrenching. Totally genuine – an absolutely different aspect of his character, which made him more complex, so real.
On a whole different level, while intrigued by the Method – it didn’t seem like such a big deal.
...It was all so basic. That’s how my friends and I played games…What I'm saying is that at eight, I came to the conclusion that all kids are Method actors.
[a similar thought regarding children occurred later on to such notable directors as Jean Renoir and Alexander Mackendrick, both way older than eight].
I do recall something funny. We were out on location at Balboa Park by a big launch. A pivotal scene. Curtiz was waiting for just the right light to shoot. Happily it arrived, and he majestically grabbed the loudspeaker horn and in his trademark broken English announced, “EVERYBODY GO TO LAUNCH!” And the whole company broke for lunch! Hysterical. Poor Michael – screaming to no avail...We were gone.
I really liked Curtiz, and he liked me. We worked three times together – on Breaking Point, TroubleAlong the Way[1952] and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn[1960].
TROUBLE ALONG THE WAY- an enjoyable light weight picture starring John Wayne as a single parent college coach; embarrassingly, Warners' ads and trailers announced, That All-Man Quiet Man Has a New Dame to Tame (with a feisty Donna Reed drawn to resemble the Duke’s frequent Ford co-star). Warners, which I'm convinced is Yiddish for “no shame” never let an op drop. Curtiz, even as late as the 1950s, was still badgered by his most famous employer to curb the moving camera and “shadow stuff,” - the very stylistic touches that made him so great...and made millions for the studio. Sherry bore this out.
On Trouble Along the Way, Curtiz couldn't move the camera. Never did. To compensate, he orchestrated this intricate list of things for me to do. He always had you doing all kinds of business. Nothing could ever be stagnant. Get up, go to the bureau, open the drawers, put on a sweater, pour some coffee. 'Always moving,' he said. 'Never stop. You stop – everything is dead. Keep moving, always moving!' And this is while I’m reciting dialogue! I particularly remember the scene where I had to go through this incredibly complicated routine to prepare John Wayne's morning-after hangover remedy. [Maureen O'Hara used to have that job off-screen, I quip. Sherry laughs. I'm so happy!].
Around this time [1952], I did The Lion and the Horse [an excellent children's adventure directed by Louis King – director Henry King's brother. This movie rates mention for two things: first to underline the point once more that Warners never let anything go. The shrill horse cries recorded for the climactic confrontation with the king of the beasts (not Louis or Henry)...was lifted off the soundtrack and dropped onto the audio for another beast – the Ray Harryhausen-created prehistoric Rhedosaurus, star of the studio's upcoming Beast from 20,000 Fathoms. Minor trivia – but this isn't: top lining this movie was Steve Cochran.].
My mom really liked Steve Cochran. Steve’s self-preservation radar must have gone off because almost immediately he explained that he wasn't the marrying kind. They both agreed that my mom needed a husband – and that we kids needed a father. 'I have just the guy for you!' he said. And that's how my future step-father entered our lives. Steve and Monty [Pittman] were best friends, and Steve was the best man at their wedding.
I'm freezing this moment to backtrack to an even earlier conversation I had with my screenwriting chum, Ric Menello. We were discussing the true heroes of the Golden Age of Television – and we decided it boiled down to two names: Nat Hiken for comedy – and Montgomery Pittman for everything else. Hiken's rep is deservedly getting more juice with every passing year. Pittman still is way too shamefully neglected. Pittman, in short, did it all – drama, action, horror, sci-fi, westerns, noir...True, someone like John Frankenheimer gets the kudos for the famous live-broadcast fare which led to a big-screen career. But he and his cohorts simply directed. Pittman, in an environ absolutely opposed to anyone creatively multi-tasking, wrote AND directed. He also did the casting, planned his shots, experimented with lighting, edited and even futzed with special effects. While most TV from these embryonic years resemble static sleep-inducing product reminiscent of early Vitaphone, Pittman's shows genuinely resemble min-movies.
When mom married my step-father, we only knew he was a would-be actor. He was just a terrific person – a great sense of humor, warm and loving...always smoking a big cigar...He didn't tell any of us about his writing. My mom had a great talent for spotting talent. As soon as she saw some material he had written, she immediately encouraged him. She really had to hound him though; at first Monty’s “writing sessions” consisted of him spending the day holed up looking at girlie magazines. But together they were a great team – my mother would come up with story ideas, and he would write them…And eventually some sold at Warner Bros. But the first film was Come Next Spring [1956].
[Come Next Spring is a superb piece of Americana – a little picture in every way but heart and humor. It was made by Republic, and remains one of only three movies that can always be guaranteed to bring tears to my eyes – the other two being The Ghost and Mrs. Muir and The Long Gray Line]. Scorsese said that he copied the fight sequence with the circus music in Come Next Spring for one of the confrontation scenes in Mean Streets. At one time, Antonioni wanted to work with my step-father [this came about when the rising Italian director sought out Cochran to appear in his 1957 classic, Il Grido/The Cry. During production, he told Cochran that he loved Come Next Spring – but not only for Cochran, but because of the writing. “That's Monty Pittman!” replied the actor. Due to scheduling conflicts, it was years before Pittman and Antonioni could come to an arrangement. Pittman, who wanted to do features, jumped at the chance to make movies in Europe during that delirious ‘two weeks in another town’ era of the early 1960s. Sadly he developed cancer, and passed away in 1962; one need only look at his TV work on DVD to appreciate what might have been]
Come Next Spring was directed by R.G. Springsteen – a competent director, but...you know…It was essentially a family affair – we all worked scale…I can’t even remember how much my step-father was paid for the script…except that it was almost nothing [some things never change!]. He really wanted to direct the movie himself and didn’t trust Springsteen. Now mind you – this is my step-father's first time out...and he’s complaining, “HE'LL RUIN MY PICTURE!” So he did the unthinkable – something you’re never supposed to do. He took the script and wrote in all the camera movements, angles and lighting set-ups. Springsteen followed it like a libretto [you don't have to convince me; just check out the rest of Springsteen's filmography. Maybe Come Next Spring inspired Mean Streets, but I kinda doubt Gobs and Gals had any influence on Taxi Driver].
And what of the most famous child part of Sherry’s career, Terry on Make Room for Daddy? What can I say? Certainly some of the unhappiest times ever in my life. Let’s just say that I didn’t respect Danny Thomas. I wasn't too thrilled by [director] Sheldon Leonard or [producer] Lou Edelman either. The major perk was Jean Hagen. I adored her. We had a great time. She and I were best buddies; she was my only friend from the Make Room for Daddy cast. What made me specifically want to leave the show? I had a five year contract, Jean had a three year contract. Jean was thoroughly fed up with the series and made it clear that she didn’t want to come back. When she left, I was devastated. I didn’t want to continue either. I wanted to break my contract. They wouldn’t let me leave, but gave me less to do; that’s why I’m in fewer shows from ages 14-16. In order to get that, I had to have my contract renegotiated – and that was a story and a half! A meeting was called at William Morris. All I had on my side was my overwhelmed agent, and he was ineffectual to a fault, no guts, no balls! On the opposite end was the Make Room from Daddy legal department - out for blood. There must have been at least seven guys there – all against me! I’m not joking – it was like some film noir movie – with me getting the third degree. Imagine a young girl surrounded by Danny Thomas, Lou Edelman – and Sheldon Leonard no less! Grilling me like some murder suspect! I couldn't speak. I was shaking. Finally, Danny Thomas says “OK, guys, let's hold on for a minute. Now Sherry, I don't understand why you won't tell us why you're so unhappy – why you want to leave, but that's up to you. Maybe you'd rather write it down on a piece of paper? Would that be easier?” So he gives me a pad and pencil. “Now write it down.” So I did – a simple statement implicating the three of them. They weren't pleased, but I got what I wanted. Less shows. Even if the situation had been better, I was sick of working 39 episodes a year. I wanted to go to high school. I wanted to be a normal person. You have no idea of the stress. We had a live audience too. I watch these blooper outtake programs on TV – where everybody laughs when they mess up. Not so with this bunch. If you dared to flub a line, Sheldon Leonard would grab a mic and, in from of 300 people, sneer, “Do you think you can get it right this time?!”
There was no one I could turn to – no one to talk to. At home, I was told that I should be so grateful to be working on a hit series...My step-father wasn't writing and directing yet, so I was basically supporting my entire family. The one temporary link to sanity was Louise Beavers, who appeared in two episodes. She was great. She also opened my eyes to racism and prejudice. When we started, I was still VERY young; I had been extremely sheltered and knew nothing about what she was telling me about. One time, Louise and I were discussing Sammy Davis, Jr. I thought he was so terrific. Louise told me that he couldn't come in the front door of the studio. This confused me – why, I wondered? “Honey, he's a headliner in Vegas and can't eat with white people.” I couldn't really grasp that – how is that possible? My jaw dropped. How could grown-ups be that stupid – and cruel? Considering the abuse I was feeling – maybe, I thought, grown-ups could be that stupid. I was starting to show signs of stress. I so wanted out!
It wasn’t just mental abuse – it was physical too. They almost crippled me on one show. I had to be on a 3-legged table in one scene (and it was wobbly to begin with), and they kept telling me to move forward, move forward…you know to hit your mark. Well the table flipped over with me taking the brunt of the hit on my elbow. I thought it was broken – it was so painful that I actually passed out. They didn’t even take me to a doctor; they had some local first aid guy put liniment on my arm! It gets worse – I’m allergic to liniment, so now I have these swelling welts on my elbow. It burned so much – I was gritting my teeth just trying to finish the scene. And they’re screaming at me – telling me to stop acting like a baby and just do it. I could not put my elbow down on any surface for nearly two years. I should have sued them! Today, if that happened, they'd be terrified of a lawsuit or of at least losing a valued cast member requiring hospitalization. So they put a cement block under the table – and I had to get back up and finish the scene (I had to do a Shakespearean speech). I’m up on the table and I start suffering from post-traumatic stress. I freeze, I can’t remember my lines. It was the first time that ever happened to me. Danny Thomas is yelling, “Can you get it right THIS TIME?!” I was so freaked out. I couldn’t do it. So after the show, I’m in my dressing room. At this point my grandmother used to take me to the show because my mom bitched, “I can’t stand to go there and see how badly they treat you.” My grandmother, who couldn’t stand confrontations, is meekly sitting there knitting – not saying a word.
And in comes Edelman, unaware of the accident – beet red SCREAMING at me. I told him I had gotten hurt. “I don’t care!” he yells back. The language got progressively worse; I had to ask my grandmother to leave. They accused me of faking – their rationale being that I had never screwed up before. Yeah – because I had just been injured! No sympathy. “No, you’re lying, you’re fine!” Awful!
I started crying. I was coming apart. Get me out of here! Moving ahead a year…My dream at the time – a teenager with a driver's wunderlust – was to own a Corvette. It’s all I could talk about. So one day Danny Thomas comes up to me and says, “If you will give me a part of your heart, I will give you a Corvette for your 16th birthday.” I looked at him – it’s just the two of us – and it creeped me out, and I said, “Danny, don’t try to buy my love!” Can you imagine – a car-crazy teenager turning down a Corvette? That’s how serious it was [yet another in a seemingly endless array of MRfD “EWWW” moments].
Then there was Rusty Hamer. What an obnoxious brat! Couldn't act either; used to smile after ever line because he thought everything he did was cute. Rusty terrorized the cast and crew for years. He once pushed a technician so hard that the man fell and hurt his back – and never fully recovered. He'd throw constant tantrums, and was given a new toy or treat if he'd promised to behave. Sometimes it backfired; they used to bait him with trays of hot dogs, which he’d wolf down like someone who hadn’t eaten for weeks. He started gaining weight so they had to put him in a girdle. His mother, Dorothy, was having a thing with Danny Thomas too; they'd be off in his trailer. I kind of knew what went on – but, later heard it was worse. I'm sure you've heard the stories – everyone has [if not, just ask Sarah Silverman]. It didn’t help the situation with Rusty either. He'd have this habit of kicking me in the shins – hard. I thought he was going to deform me – I mean this kid wore these little Oxford shoes. He also would stick me with pencils. At home I cried to my mother. She told me to not say anything – that I was so much older...they'd just think I was jealous. A year – I'm not kidding – A YEAR of this went on. Finally, one day he did it again – kicked me – and I grabbed him, put him over my knees and walloped his little butt. The entire crew on the floor and up in the catwalk burst into applause. And here's the thing: this little putz – ten years old – all red faced and crying – points to me, and screams, “You're toast! I'll see to it that you never work in this town again! I'll have you blackballed!” [I mention that she was lucky he didn't enjoy it which results in lusty Sherry laughter]. It was actually hilarious. That said it came as no surprise to me that he ended up killing himself. Really a pathetic individual. I wish I could think of kinder things to say, but it was such a grind. When, at last, in 1958, my five years were up, it was almost like coming out of prison. [Too bad she couldn't hang in for the later arrival and emergence of Sid Melton, which might have turned the entire working climate around. But what of the other show's regulars, especially Hans Conreid?] Hans Conreid? [pause] Nice man, very funny...but a total kiss-ass! [So with Tonoose on the caboose as our fade-out, we close this first of two sessions with Sherry Jackson – as she escapes from the horrors of Danny Thomas into the comparatively tranquil world of…The Twilight Zone!].
KEY SHERRY JACKSON WORKS DISCUSSED:
THE BREAKING POINT(1950; Warner Bros. Directed by Michael Curtiz. John Garfield, Patricia Neal, Phyllis Thaxter, Juano Hernandez, S.J., Wallace Ford, William Campbell. B&W.
THE LION AND THE HORSE(1952; Warner Bros. Directed by Louis King. Steve Cochran, S.J., Ray Teal, George O’Hanlon, Bob Steele, Lane Chandler, Tom Tyler. Color.
TROUBLE ALONG THE WAY(1953; Warner Bros. Directed by Michael Curtiz. John Wayne, Donna Reed, Charles Coburn, S.J., Tom Tully, Marie Windsor, Tom Helmore, Chuck Connors. B&W. DVD: Warners Archive Collection.
COME NEXT SPRING(1956; Directed by R.G. Springsteen. Ann Sheridan, Steve Cochran, Walter Brennan, S.J., Richard Eyer, Edgar Buchanan, Sonny Tufts, Mae Clarke, James Best. Color. DVD: Nostalgia Merchant.
MAKE ROOM FOR DADDY(1953-1958; Directed by Sheldon Leonard. Danny Thomas, Jean Hagen (then Marjorie Lord), S.J., Rusty Hamer. B&W. DVD: S’More Entertainment.
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