I Love the Illusion: The Life and Career of Agnes Moorehead (48 page)

BOOK: I Love the Illusion: The Life and Career of Agnes Moorehead
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The second and perhaps most understandable reason for her relative
inactivity in 1966 may have been because of her health. Toward the end of
filming
Bewitched’s
second season in April 1966, Agnes was not feeling up
to par, her usual energy depleted. She checked herself into the Mayo Clinic
in Rochester for a check-up and ended up staying there for several weeks.
Correspondence she received at this time indicates that she “went under the
knife,” but there are no specifics as to what type of illness she had or the
reason for the operation. On May 7, 1966, she received a letter from an old
friend from New Concord, Ohio who wrote, “thankful that there were no
complications,” and that she was happy that the care she had at the Mayo
Clinic “had won me over . . . so wonderful that you found not only good
medical practice but also kindness and understanding.” Following her
hospitalization, Agnes went on to the Reedsburg, Wisconsin home of her
mother for several more weeks of recuperation. There may be a clue,
though, about the nature of Agnes’ own extended 1966 hospitalization and
lengthy recuperation in a letter to Agnes from her friend Barron Polan:
“. . . Now, I am only relieved to have had a call from Georgia the Johnstone,
telling me that you’ve already had the knife and are fine! Congratulations
. . . But it is important to guard that greatest of possessions, your health. I
guess poor Alice Pearce must be a lesson to all of us, for I was told that she
was warned, but did not take the time out to see.” The original Gladys
Kravitz on
Bewitched,
Alice Pearce, had died the previous March after a
long battle with cancer. She had heroically worked on the series until nearly
the end — the last few episodes she appeared in, especially “Baby’s First
Paragraph,” are somewhat painful to watch. It is clear by her gauntness and
the wig she wore that the disease was taking its toll, but her performance
never suffered; although her role would later be recast with the talented
Sandra Gould, the Gladys character just wasn’t the same without Pearce.
On Mother’s Day, 1966, while in Reedsburg, Debbie Reynolds wrote
Agnes:

Dear Agatha,
Was so thrilled to hear from my “lumpy” buddy, and that she seems to
be on the upward road. I am so happy for you and your mother to be able
to have this precious time together. Betcha there’s a lot of bullin going on
between the two gals. I tried calling your home today, to wish Sean a Happy
Mother’s Day and to get your phone number, so I will call again tomorrow.
I wanted to wish you a Happy Mother’s Day wish on Mother’s Day but I
guess a sincere wish on paper will do, sweet, dear friend! All is well here and
I know all is well with Agatha too. Please take good care, Much Love to you
and your mother.
Mary Frances A.K.A. Debala.

While she was recuperating from her surgery in Reedsburg with her
mother, the Emmy Awards were presented in Hollywood. Agnes was
nominated along with Alice Pearce for Outstanding Performance by an
Actress in a Supporting Role in a Comedy for
Bewitched
. This was to be
Agnes’ first Emmy nomination, and while she was saddened that she couldn’t
attend the ceremony in person she was thrilled to be nominated. Also
nominated was Rose Marie for her wisecracking and man-hungry Sally
Rogers in
The Dick Van Dyke Show.
Rose Marie was a professional
acquaintance of Agnes’ and they had acted together on the TV series
My Sister Eileen
in 1961. She recalls Agnes as “a wonderful lady and a
tremendous actress.” Rose Marie considers herself a fan of Agnes’. “You
have to understand that stars are fans too, just like regular people, and
Agnes Moorehead was one of my favorites; I especially loved her work
in radio with
Sorry, Wrong Number.
Agnes was a gracious lady, very
professional, never rude and had a great sense of humor, but we never got
to know one another outside of work and when we did it was usually a hug
and kiss and ‘how are you?’” Nevertheless, Rose Marie was thrilled to be
nominated in the company of Agnes, as well as Alice Pearce. When the
envelope was opened that night neither Agnes nor Rose Marie went home
the victor — the Academy bestowed on the recently-deceased Alice Pearce
the Emmy for her performance as Gladys Kravitz on
Bewitched
. While
Agnes was disappointed, she understood that she would have other
opportunities and the industry wanted to recognize Alice. Still, she heard
from friends and colleagues who wired their regrets, including Debbie
Reynolds: “Sweet Agnes — I know you were pleased for Alice but everyone
knew you deserved it. We miss you and love you. Debbie and Harry.”

For years Agnes had tutored actors for roles. Debbie Reynolds has told
of her taking time out to coach her. Zsa Zsa Gabor was given voice lessons
by Agnes. Agnes was dialogue coach to Jeffrey Hunter in the film
King of
Kings
. The list can go on. She also felt she was giving something back to the
industry by operating an acting school, which for many years she conducted
out of her home. Many of the students were the children of well-known
performers, but many others were not. Not all were children; many adults
were part of her acting school. It was around 1966 that a nearly 40-year-old
regional publicist for RCA Victor, who had worked with Eartha Kitt and Perry
Como, among others, saw Agnes on a television talk show speaking about her
acting school. Intrigued, Quint Benedetti enrolled, and over the next seven
years would become an important part of Moorehead’s life and career.

Benedetti knew enough about Agnes to realize that she liked “squeakey
clean — goody two-shoes types,” so he made sure when he auditioned that
his hair was cut and combed, and he dressed conservatively. Like all potential
students, Benedetti auditioned first for Kathy Ellis, who helped run the
school while still serving as Agnes’ stand-in and assistant. Benedetti did well
enough in his audition for Kathy to warrant an audition in front of Agnes.
She approved of the handsome Benedetti and, for $200 per month (a pretty
high fee for those days), he became part of Agnes Moorehead’s acting
school. At the time Benedetti first became a student, the acting school
would meet on Wednesday nights and Saturdays. The Wednesday night
classes were called, “Musical night” and the students, approximately 10-12
in number, sometimes more, would learn coordination by fencing and
doing ballet. Agnes hired a professional fencer and ballet instructor.

Agnes didn’t usually attend these sessions but showed up more regularly
on Saturdays. The Saturday classes alternated between sessions of 8am to
12pm one week and longer sessions of 8am to 3pm the next week. The
curriculum was based on the one that Agnes had learned at the American
Academy of Dramatic Arts. It included Technique, Shakespeare, doing
scenes, speech, and more dancing, fencing and singing. Benedetti would
recall that Agnes often had other teachers assisting her, such as her friends
Karl Malden and Laurie Main. He also maintains that she was often
promising high-profile guest speakers such as mime Marcel Marceau, “who
never showed up.” Furthermore, Benedetti says that Agnes would spend less
time speaking about the techniques of acting, then she would giving a
running commentary of her own career. “Some of the kids made fun of her
because they thought she was corny, behind her back — but in front of her
they were suck ups.” When she wasn’t speaking about her own career, she
was often quite “outspoken” regarding morals “in and out of the theatre.”
Every year, according to Benedetti, Agnes would show the students the
Twilight Zone
episode she had starred in, “The Invaders,” which she was
“very proud of ” and considered her best work on television, as well as an
effective tool in teaching her students pantomime. In terms of grooming,
Agnes expected her students to be “ladies and gentlemen, no slacks for the
girls, and good grooming, which excluded long hair on the boys.”

Benedetti also maintains that she showed favoritism toward the
students who came from wealthy families — “those who were able to pay
in full the tuition rather than those who made weekly installments.” It is
this allegation of playing favorites which prompted one student to write to
Agnes after walking out of class one Saturday. In this letter she speaks of
“clicks” who won’t work with some students (herself among them): “The
click although smaller in number still exists and the click is still too good
to work with your students — your opinion of the students is meaningless
— the only thing that counts is that the click is running things.” She also
pointedly told Agnes, “I do not have $25.00 a week to pay the rent while
your private students control the school.” This student suggests that
she had “begged” Agnes for three years to talk to her and to get private
tutoring to “build confidence. You will not give it to me so I must go
elsewhere.”

Bernard Fox, who played Dr. Bombay on
Bewitched,
was also enlisted as
an instructor at Agnes’ acting school, and recalls it as an “excellent drama
school,” but acknowledges that Agnes’ “contribution as far as I could tell
was allowing the students to gather around whilst she regaled them with
stories of her days with the Mercury Playhouse.” He also maintains that
“the quality of the scenes her students were presenting was very poor.” Fox
had charge of her senior students and since he found the quality of the
scenes poor, he set about trying to improve it and “to my mind, and the
students, I did.” But he recalls that one Saturday Agnes dropped in to check
the progress and “announced she had seen all of this, evidently not noticing
the tightening and the polishing that had been achieved. Anyway, next
semester I taught fencing.” Fox also says that the students were promised
film footage of their scenes and apparently the film instructor was not available
so Agnes called upon Fox to take twelve students to USC, “where Agnes
said arrangements were made to do the filming. Followed by my twelve
goslings, I traipsed around half a dozen classrooms, phoned various
departments, nobody knew about any filming — and, anyway, who was
going to pay for the footage?” Eventually, Agnes hired a still photographer,
who took the students out into the country and took pictures of them in
various poses; they were presented with these stills upon graduation, to
which Fox recalls remarking to a couple of the students, “perhaps Agnes
thought they could stand in front of various casting directors and riffle
through them simulating motion!” Fox does say that if a student could not
afford to pay it didn’t automatically disqualify them because Agnes would
provide a scholarship which may have been funded by her “wealthy friends
in the industry.”

Laurie Main was also called upon by Agnes as an instructor of comedy
plays for the school. He has a somewhat different view of the school and
Agnes’ contribution than Benedetti and Fox. It was Main’s observation that
the students “doted” on Agnes. He says that Agnes taught the fundamentals
of acting rather than directing scenes. He recalls that usually the school ran
from the fall until the summer when it would close down for three months
or so, but one summer he told the students, “let’s keep rehearsing and
surprise Agnes in the fall.” So they did and in the fall when the school
reopened the students were able to present a very “polished” production
and Agnes, “was so pleased by what they accomplished.” Main says that
Agnes, “believed in young people and she began her school because she
wanted to give something back to the Hollywood community.” While she
believed in young people, it didn’t stop her from “rebuking someone who
she felt was under-dressed or over-dressed — manners were very important
to Agnes.”

For Benedetti, the turning point in his relationship with Agnes came
when she faced a crisis. She had moved her school out of her home and was
at a facility on Wilshire Boulevard when she got notice that she would have
to vacate that location. She didn’t know where she was going to move the
school, which had outgrown her home. Up to this point Benedetti had been
a shrinking violet in classes, “she never gave me the time of day for acting
at all.” He pretty much just watched the action and didn’t say anything. But
when Agnes shared with the class her concern about where the school
would relocate, Benedetti thought of the Santa Monica Playhouse where he
had appeared in a play the previous year. He boldly told her he would check
it out and attempt to work out a deal. Agnes replied, “Well, better men
than you have tried, but if you want to try, okay.”

Benedetti went out to the Santa Monica Playhouse and, when informed
that the space would be for Agnes Moorehead, he was able to make a deal.
He called Agnes and told her to come out and see her “new home.” She
countered — telling Benedetti to come to her home and pick her up and
drive her to see the new space, adding, “I don’t do freeways.” Benedetti
picked Agnes up and they drove from Beverly Hills to Santa Monica avoiding
the freeways by taking back roads and surface streets the entire way. It was
during this extended drive that Benedetti says Agnes “mellowed” toward
him and they had their first extended talk — getting to know her not as a
grande dame, but as a person. Once they arrived at the Santa Monica
Playhouse Agnes quickly negotiated the deal for use of the space and she
had a new appreciation for Quint Benedetti. Trusting his business sense,
she invited him to be, first, her correspondence secretary, and later work on
publicity and bookings for her one-woman shows. In Benedetti’s eyes, “the
ugly duckling” had made good.

V

Helen Hayes and Agnes had stayed in touch throughout the years. They
were friends, but not intimate; they remained in contact mainly through
correspondence and would occasionally see each other. “Their friendship
was the kind where they were great friends when circumstances brought
them together,” according to Hayes’ son, actor James MacArthur, “but
otherwise they might go for long periods of time without having any
contact. We lived on the east coast and Aggie lived in Los Angeles, so
get-togethers usually occurred when one or the other was in town or they
were attending a common event or something like that.”

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