I Love the Illusion: The Life and Career of Agnes Moorehead (55 page)

Dora Guerra remembers,
“The program,
Bewitched
, in
which Ms. Agnes Moorehead
played a leading role was a very
popular one. The children and I
watched it without fail, and
Judith Ann was immediately
drawn to Ms. Moorehead. She
became what today would be
called an ‘Agnes Moorehead
groupie.’ She truly couldn’t wait
for the program to come on, so
we could sit down to watch her
favorite ‘witch.’ During one of
Conrad’s visits to San Antonio,
Bewitched
happened to be on
and Conrad sat down to watch it
with the kids while I cooked for
us. Judith Ann, who at the time
must have been 6, began to tell
Conrad how
WONDERFUL
Ms.

Moorehead was, and she went on and on about her. Conrad let her carry
on, and then informed Judith Ann that Ms. Moorehead was a good friend
of his. Judith Ann was speechless. She was absolutely transformed with awe,
and began to ply Conrad with questions about Ms. Moorehead. She just
couldn’t hear enough about her. Conrad told Judith Ann he’d talk to Ms.
Moorehead about her and suggested maybe, just maybe, Judith Ann would
hear from her.
“Weeks and weeks later, an autographed picture, dedicated to Judith

Ann, came in the mail. You cannot imagine the joy it brought to our home,
and to that incredible child of mine. I will never forget the moment, nor
Ms. Moorehead’s and Conrad’s kindness. Judith Ann insisted on writing to
say ‘thank you’ and the correspondence between them began. One of the
highlights of the day was to ‘dictate’ a letter to Ms. Moorehead.”

Dear Aggie,
I have been very worried about you. Did the earthquake get your house?
I hope not. I don’t want anything to happen to you. If your house was it,
you can come stay with us. We will take care of you. I still watch
Bewitched
all the time. I still think you are great. I love the way you say “Darwin” or
“What’s His Name.” I notice you wear purple and pink a lot. They are my
favorite colors too. I have them in my room. Guess what? I made a straight
A report card. My teacher is giving me 2nd grade work already, and it is
fun. Here are some pansies from my garden, that my mother dried for you,
and some pictures I drew for you. In the mail there will be a Valentine
surprise for you too. Enjoy! Please let me know how you are, and whether
the earthquake stopped shaking. That’s Shooo Bizzy! I love you very much.
Judith Ann Guerra

Dear Judith Ann,
Your letter of February arrived during my absence from Los Angeles,
hence the delay in writing you. I’ve been traveling the countryside again
which prevents me from keeping up with my correspondence. I am ever so
pleased to hear from you again. The enclosures, your drawings and those
delightful pansies, pressed and ready for careful placing in my scrapbook
are gifts I’ll always treasure. No, the earthquake didn’t “get” my house
though we were shaken up thoroughly. So many houses were damaged, I
feel so very lucky to have been spared the expense and trouble of having
repairs made. The good Lord had his hand over me and my home. I want
to thank you for your kindness in inviting me to stay with you if I needed
shelter. I’ll never forget that. I’m so pleased to learn you had a straight A
report card and are now doing 2nd grade work. Marvelous! As you go on
with your work you’ll find it more and more interesting. Take care and
write me again when you have the time. With every good wish.
Cordially yours,
Agnes Moorehead

Dora Guerra would recall the final time that little Judith Ann was
hospitalized. “The other great moment between them was when Ms.
Moorehead sent Judith Ann a most lovely nightie during what turned out
to be Judith’s last stay in the hospital. Ms. Moorehead sent it directly to
Lackland Air Force Hospital. The return address carried Ms. Moorehead’s
name on it, written in her own hand. By the time the gift reached Judith
Ann in the intensive care unit, the whole hospital floor became aware that
Judith Ann Gurerra had Ms. Agnes Moorehead for a friend, and she was the
most popular patient for several days. Everyone would come in to her
bedside to ask her about Ms. Moorehead. You’ve never seen a child gleam,
in spite of how ill she was. She never failed to mention how ‘her good friend
Conrad Binyon was a
VERY SPECIAL
friend of Ms. Moorehead’s and brought
them together.’ Judith Ann died a week after Ms. Moorehead’s gift arrived.”

Dear Aggie,
Oh how gorgeous! I just love it! My Daddy took a picture of me in it,
and I will send it to you. I feel like a Queen in it. Thank you so very very
much. I love you. Judith Ann.
p.s.
Tell what’s his name hello. Uncle Arthur too.

For making a dying child’s final month happy and memorable, Conrad
Binyon would later say that Agnes Moorehead “has a place in heaven, in my
book.”

Bewitched
filmed its 254th episode in December 1971, completing its slate
for the 1971–72 season and preparing to take an unusually long hiatus. The
cast and crew fully expected to be coming back by the late spring of 1972
for the series’ ninth season. For Agnes, the eighth season had been her least
active on the show — appearing in only 13 out of 26 episodes, many of
those only requiring her services for not more than a day. By this time the
writers were increasingly recycling ideas, scripts, and even dialogue from
earlier, better episodes, and the boredom was becoming painfully evident.
By now Agnes had done all she could with the Endora character — there
were few new tricks, and while professional as always, the spark was missing.
Even more telling were Elizabeth’s performances in that final season. Given
a new “hip” attitude, she seemed to have lost the sparkle and good-natured
humor which she brought for seven years to the character of Samantha
Stephens. There may be two explanations of why this happened. The first
was due to the increasing marital problems between Elizabeth and Bill,
unrelieved due to having to work together. The second, after eight years of
playing one character, she had, indeed, become bored and was ready to lick
her acting chops with other projects. “I think she did begin to tire of the
show in the last couple of years,” says Kasey Rogers. “Personal problems
were also creeping in, but she did her job and never complained. But
you knew something was wrong. On the set, Elizabeth and Bill were
professionals.”

Agnes didn’t look well during this final season, appearing drawn and
fragile. Quint Benedetti recalls that she had recurring bouts with the flu
over the course of the season. He recalls that one day she was so ill she could
barely move, and she had Benedetti call in sick for her. Minutes later, the
phone rang and Benedetti gave it to Agnes. She later told him that she had
been bluntly told, “either you come in or you will be put on suspension.”
With an iron will, Agnes got herself up from her sickbed and went to the
studio. When she arrived on the set she went to the director and said, “Here
I am — are you satisfied?” She worked that day but her condition worsened
and she was finally granted time off. Elizabeth, always gracious and solicitous
of Agnes, sent flowers with a note. “Dearest Aggie we all miss you — me
especially. Much love, Elizabeth.” And even Dick Sargent, whom she had
finally mellowed toward, sent flowers with his regards, “Aggie stop this
foolishness and get well.”

With the show on a long hiatus Agnes hoped her strength would return
as she turned her attentions and waning energies to planning what would
turn out to be her final Christmas party at the Beverly Hills home. It was
another star-studded event and a guest list which, as always, made it an A
event party: Elizabeth and Bill Asher, Dick Sargent, David White, and
other
Bewitched
regulars hobnobbed with friends like Debbie Reynolds and
Harry Karl, Fred MacMurray and his wife June Haver, Kathryn Grayson,
Jimmy and Gloria Stewart, Lucille Ball and Gary Morton, and the Karl
Maldens, among others. Debbie Reynolds recalls that at these Christmas
parties the champagne and wine flowed and more than a few got tipsy —
but teetotaler Agnes “stood straight as a dime with an amused look on her
face.” According to Debbie, “nobody had more fun at the party than Paul
Lynde.” It was a fun evening and was written up in the society pages of the
local Hollywood papers the next day — proclaiming the Hollywood
Christmas party season officially open. Kay Gable, Clark’s widow, wrote to
Agnes the next day, “for many years now being at your beautiful parties
gives me the spirit to get right on the Xmas path. You looked perfectly lovely,
and I thank you and love you.”

As always, the holiday party coincided with Agnes’ birthday, her 71st,
and her friend Mary Roebling remembered her with a touching telegram:
“A star danced and you were born. All my love on your birthday.”

At Christmas Agnes gave a slip to the mother of her dedicated maid,
Freddie Jones. Freddie thanked her for “your thoughtfulness . . . your
friendship and being the human being you are.”

It was clear to Agnes that she was not getting much better. She decided
she needed a thorough examination and, as expected, was off to Rochester,
Minnesota and her trusted Mayo Clinic. On February 17, 1972, she was
admitted to Methodist Hospital to begin a series of tests. They came back
positive — Agnes had cancer. As always when confronted with adversity,
Agnes put herself in God’s hands and prayed. She knew she had the best
doctors and was at the best hospital and that God would take care of the
rest. With the exception of a few people, including her trusted staff,
Freddie, Rochelle and Polly — and her friend and frequent house guest,
Jack Kelk, she told no one of the nature of her illness. Friends either
thought she was on vacation or visiting her mother. She underwent surgery
on February 22, and remained an in-patient until March 7. While
hospitalized, she received a letter (affectionately addressed to Maude) from
Kelk, who was staying at her Beverly Hills home: “Your marble halls are not
ringing with the laughs we used to have. I remember when either one of us
would find something funny in print, or on the tube and converge in the
halls, in various states of undress, and yak until the wee small hours. We
miss you. The house is running smoothly of course, due to the girls (Polly
and Freddie), who love you, and think only of your best interests . . . Agnes,
if you are alone, and I suspect you are, I will beg, borrow or steal to be there
with you. I hope you know that . . . The phone doesn’t ring much; people
think you are simply on holiday. Our prayers are with you, that you know.
Father Curtis wonders who I’m having all the masses said for, but he is a
man of God, and does not ask questions. The ‘household’ worries when we
don’t hear from you. We want you home. The grounds look lovely and the
wisteria is almost opening your bedroom window looking for you. The
birds keep saying you will be here soon. Love, Jack.”

Agnes remained an out-patient after being released from the hospital for
a week and then went to recuperate with her mother in Reedsburg. But
during her stay in Reedsburg she redeveloped the flu and was readmitted to
Methodist in April. The staff adored her and she befriended many during
her time at the hospital. One lady who worked in the business office
received an autograph and gift of candy for her daughter. It was during this
second hospitalization that Debbie wrote, “We all miss you and send gobs
of love and best wishes that all is well and that you are getting a much
needed rest. I have spoken with Polly a few times but she indicated you
weren’t up to calls yet. Thus this note.” Harry Ackerman, the executive
producer of
Bewitched
, wrote to her on March 16: “One of my relatives in
Albany (NY) sent me today a news item from one of the papers to the effect that
you have been hospitalized in Rochester . . . I had no idea you were ill . . .”

Soon Agnes, released and back in Reedsburg, heard from Ackerman
again, by letter, breaking the news that
Bewitched
would be leaving the air.
For the first time since 1963, Agnes — while recovering from major
surgery for a life-threatening illness — once again had to worry about
where and what her next job would be. It was done in a typical Hollywood
way — a short letter with the news that the show was cancelled, a line
about his appreciation for a job well done, and then a “call me when you’re
back in town and I’ll take you out to lunch.” A nice Hollywood kiss-off
after 8 years as Endora. That Agnes was unaware that the episode she filmed
in December would be her final one is a quote she gave to
Chicago Today
Magazine
on 1/4/72, “I will be doing more one-woman shows . . . about
five or six in April and back to filming
Bewitched
.”