Alan Jay Lerner: A Lyricist's Letters (9 page)

    
Pygmalion
was by no means the pair’s only musical prospect at the time. Barely a month after writing to Pascal, Lerner set his sights on another high-profile property: a musical adaptation of the beloved 1942 Humphrey Bogart-Ingrid Bergman movie,
Casablanca
. It was announced on April 9 that “In the event
Alan Jay Lerner and Frederick Loewe, who co-wrote
Paint Your Wagon
, convert the film,
Casablanca
, into a musical they would like to join hands with Monte Proser and Jack Small in the sponsorship.”
⁹
Though Lerner and Loewe went on to sign provisional contracts to gain the rights to
Casablanca
, the project never seems to have gone beyond the discussion stage, unlike
Pygmalion
.
¹⁰
Throughout their working relationship, various projects were mulled over but abandoned, and this period was no exception. They were also beginning to talk about the possible film adaptation of
Paint Your Wagon
, which continued to run on Broadway. As early as January 1952, the newspapers were talking about the competition between the major studios to bid for the screen rights to the show—Paramount wanted it as a Bing Crosby vehicle, while Warner Bros. saw it as perfect material for their leading lady, Doris Day—and in February it was announced that Louis B. Mayer had outbid his rivals.
¹¹
Loewe then departed for Hollywood on March 24 to work with Lerner on the film, which was presumed to be going ahead; their work was broken in May and June when they returned to New York to hire and coach veteran Eddie Dowling to replace James Barton in the stage version of
Wagon
(as noted in the previous chapter).
¹²
But in the end, the show would take over a decade further to reach the screen, and without Loewe’s participation.

    
February and March also saw Lerner enjoy success in the awards season for his screenplay for
An American in Paris
. On February 18, the Screen Writers Guild of America commended him in the category for the best screenplay for a musical, and the following month saw the ultimate accolade: the Oscar.
¹³
For all that Lerner is often thought of as a more talented lyricist than scriptwriter, his achievement in this landmark film (which won a total of seven Oscars), and in
Gigi
later in the decade, proves his ability for writing prose when dealing with the right (usually lyric-romantic) material. Buoyed up by the success of
Paris
, Lerner spent the summer of 1952 investing time in a series of ongoing film projects, including the long-awaited adaptation of
Huckleberry Finn
for Gene Kelly and Danny Kaye, as well as improving the book for the tour of
Paint Your Wagon
. Burl Ives, whom the
Times
described as “the troubadour of the ancient and romantic ballad,” was set to star in the tour, which was due to start in October, and it was
announced that his part was to be drastically expanded.
¹⁴
Indicating Lerner’s insatiable appetite for movie work, yet another title was discussed in September, when Arthur Freed announced that plans were under way for a screen adaptation of David Belasco’s play
The Girl of the Golden West
, to be filmed on location and adapted by Lerner.
¹⁵
It would have been the fourth adaptation of the play for the screen. He didn’t always say yes, however. For instance, he turned down the opportunity to make a musical out of Ludwig Bemelmans’s
¹⁶
novel
Hotel Splendide
(1941), as the following letter to Sam Byrd, a producer acquaintance from the Lamb’s Club, reveals:

    
To Sam Byrd

    
July 1, 1952

    
Dear Sam:

    
Please forgive the long period of silence. I was called suddenly back to California and upon my return found my father seriously ill. All is quiet and well now and I can start thinking again about writing.

        
I have given
Hotel Splendide
a lot of thought. I think as you do that there is definitely a show there, but where it is, at the moment, I don’t know. As I told you, I am a very slow worker and I have to live with things a long time. I wouldn’t have the slightest idea when I would find the solution for this project. It might be next week and it might be two years from now. Consequently, rather than subject you to my intellectual vagaries, I feel I must regretfully withdraw from the venture. I will drop the book by at the club the beginning of the week.

        
I do hope I haven’t held you up too long and I wish you all good luck and success.

        
Thanks for thinking of me in the first place.

Fondly,

Alan

Of note here is Lerner’s candid self-assessment about his slow progress as a writer and adapter, which frequently caused him to delay or abandon his plans.

    
This period spelled the temporary end of the Lerner-Loewe collaboration, following a disagreement. Although Lerner, always eager to be politically involved, took time out in October to participate in a major Democratic rally at Madison Square Garden in order to boost Adlai Stevenson’s bid for the presidency of the United States, the remainder of the year was spent in developing movie projects without his old partner. A new collaborator was needed, and Lerner found one in the person of Arthur Schwartz, composer of 1930s hits such as
The Band Wagon
as well as producer of movies including
Cover Girl
. Schwartz’s witty, elegant style was the perfect foil for Lerner’s lightness of touch as a lyricist, and a slew of projects was announced. First up was the movie adaptation of
Paint Your Wagon
. Only a few of the original Lerner-Loewe songs were now to be retained, and Lerner and Schwartz wrote nine new numbers; although they were never used, copies of the songs are held in the Library of Congress’s Arthur Schwartz Collection. This was the surest sign yet that the rift between Lerner and Loewe was serious. On February 11, 1953, it was suggested in the press that the movie would be “the first feature-length entertainment film to be made in the Cinerama process.” It was due to go into production in June and be released in October, with Louis B. Mayer still onboard as producer
¹⁷
.

    
A month later, a further Lerner-Schwartz venture was announced: “Arthur Schwartz and Alan Jay Lerner have reached an agreement with Al Capp to make a musical of his popular cartoon,
Li’l Abner
,” reported Louis Calta.
¹⁸
The article also claimed that Lerner was writing a play for Schwartz to produce on Broadway with him, though there is no evidence that he ever began work on it. By June, yet another production was on the cards for the new team: Lerner was to create the script and lyrics for an MGM movie of
Kismet
, to music by Schwartz. Cyd Charisse was lined up to star in this revamp of the old 1944 film of the same name, but the studio went on to make the film as a straightforward adaptation of Wright and Forrest’s Broadway hit version of the story, which opened out of town in the summer of 1953 and reached Broadway in December of the same year.
¹⁹
With so many plans for the future, Lerner was evidently happy with his new creative partner, though the article also mentions
two forthcoming MGM-Lerner projects that did not involve Schwartz, namely,
Brigadoon
(whose Frederick Loewe score was to be left largely intact), due for production in September, and
Huckleberry Finn
(still with its Burton Lane music), tentatively scheduled for February 1954.

    
But the cracks started to show only a few weeks later. On July 15,
Li’l Abner
was suddenly postponed to the 1954–55 season—more than a year ahead.
²⁰
This was the first indication that insufficient work was being produced. Lerner and Schwartz were supposedly “busy” with unspecified “Hollywood matters.” In reality, personal worries had begun to stunt Lerner’s progress. The first was health related, as he told his good friend Irene Mayer Selznick
²¹
in mid-July:

    
To Irene Mayer Selznick

    
July 20, 1953

    
Dear, dear Irene:

    
Just so you won’t think I am in California and haven’t called you, I wanted you to know there’s been a change in my plans. Chances are I won’t leave for the Coast for at least two weeks. There is also the possibility that I may not come at all.

        
The reason for the change is that I just spent three enchanting weeks in the hospital with an old fashioned case of spinal meningitis. Considering the fact that this is the first time I have been sick since I was eleven years old, you can imagine how irksome the whole business has been. I’ve always taken it as a personal affront when anybody I know is indisposed, and I have absolutely no sympathy for myself when it happens to me. However, aside from feeling as weak as a whore when the Navy is in town, I am my old alarming self again, and, outside of a few missing reflexes in one leg, which should return shortly, all parts of me function as usual.

        
I do hope I’ll be able to get to the Coast. I would love to see you and the boys again. The day you all came up was one of the nicest I can remember. Be sure and give them my warmest regards, and as for you, darling,

All my love,

Alan

Lerner’s other ongoing problem was the infirmity of his beloved father, who was his hero and role model. The following letter to Goddard Lieberson,
²²
the head of Columbia Records, hints at Lerner’s efforts to make his father’s final months as enjoyable as possible, as well as at his own continuing health troubles:

    
To Goddard Lieberson

    
July 23, 1953

    
My boy:

    
Forgive me for bothering you with a seeming triviality, except, it is not quite a triviality to me.

        
As you probably know, my father is an invalid, and anything I can do to brighten his days, I rush to do. His favorite record is an old one by Buddy Clark of “In My Dreams I Kiss Your Hand, Madame.” He has now worn it out and cannot get another pressing. If it isn’t too much trouble, do you think you could pass this along to somebody in the appropriate department and ask him to send me C.O.D. two copies of that record? I would appreciate it ever so much.

        
I am just out of the hospital myself, after a long siege. As soon as I feel a little more like my old Democratic self, I’ll call you, and let’s get together. It’s been a long time. Too long.

        
I hope the above request won’t be too much trouble.

Fondly,

Alan

Lieberson, one of Lerner’s close friends, soon acceded to his request, commenting that “These records are to serve for a long time and I hope that your father will get many hours of enjoyment out of them." Lieberson added: "I must see you soon because there is a dance we’ve got to practice. It’s called the Eisenhower Glide. If you want to work on it without me, here are the directions: One step forward, two steps back; turn to the left, hesitate; turn to the right, hesitate; turn to the left, hesitate; turn to the right, hesitate; side-step. Do you think you can do it?" This reference to General Eisenhower,
²³
who had become president of the United States in January 1953, indicates that Lieberson was, like Lerner, a diehard Democrat. Lerner quickly replied to thank him for his support:

    
To Goddard Lieberson

    
August 10, 1953

    
Dear Goddard:

    
Thanks ever so much for helping me out with the records. I appreciate it more than you know.

        
I’m still recuperating in the country from a bout with spinal meningitis, and I doubt if I’ll be coming to New York for another two weeks. When I do, I’ll certainly call you, and perhaps we’ll be able to break gluten toast at “21.” If you absolutely insist, I will bring Fritz Loewe along.

        
Hope your brood is all well. Give Brigita…I mean, Brigitta…I mean, Briggitta…well anyhow, please give your wife my love.

Fondly,

Alan

The bitter allusion to Loewe shows the extent to which the writers of
Brigadoon
had burned their bridges.

    
A few days later, Lerner and Schwartz signed up to yet another project that would never see the light of day—a children’s television musical for the Ford Foundation
²⁴
—and Lerner clearly felt
Abner
could be a major show, as the following telegram to Schwartz proves: