Rescuing a Few More Mostly-Random Anecdotes
Rescued from several different posts on NewsReviewsInterviews
For your reading enjoyment, here are a couple of anecdotes that you probably haven’t read before: one from the late, great John Heard, a brief one from Nick Nolte, and a very lengthy one from the legendary Norman Lloyd.
Enjoy!
John Heard
Heart Beat (1980)—“Jack Kerouac”
The back story: This isn’t actually from John’s Random Roles interview, it’s just a transcription of a story that he told when he was a guest on my very sporadic podcast, Obscurity Knocks, but at the time I was struggling to fix the sound on the recording - I’m still not happy with how it sounds, but I did at least get it to a point where I was comfortable releasing it - and I got tired of sitting on all of the great stories he had to tell, so I transcribed this one.
John Heard: Heart Beat was Nick Nolte and Sissy Spacek. Sissy was serious, Nick was always laughing and joking around, and I was…playing Jack Kerouac. John Byrum directed it, and it was about the ménage a trois between the three of them: Kerouac and Neal and Carolyn Cassady. And I had read Maggie Cassidy and other Kerouac stuff, and I was taking myself much, much too seriously. I was all about authenticity in Jack Kerouac, and I have the build for Jack Kerouac. I was self-conscious. But I did have the kind of mood and the subjunctiveness or the moodiness of Jack. So I was sort of being always serious. And John Byrum was going, “What the hell’s the matter with you, Heard? I mean, this is, like, a comedy! I want this to be fun! These people loved each other! They jumped on each other!” He was always prodding me to lighten up. And he actually went out one time and got my girlfriend, put a ladder behind the camera, and had her sit on top of the ladder and make faces at me so I’d stop taking myself so seriously.
Nick had a buddy named Billy, and Billy and Nick and I would ride through the dark of night in L.A. after work every night, we’d hit every bar, and we’d end up somewhere at some girl’s house, with pajamas on and hair curlers. The women would go gaga over Nick. But one night we got the idea that we were going to break into John Byrum’s house. Byrum had a wine closet in his cellar, and Nick and Billy said, “Let’s go over to Byrum and get into his wine closet!” And we did. But while we were busting into his home, Byrum was actually upstairs! And we thought it was funny, but…we never knew whether or not Byrum was scared to death because someone was breaking into his house. He comes downstairs, he’s tippy-toeing downstairs, and all of a sudden he sees it’s us, and he’s, like, “A-ha-ha! You guys, huh? Well, you didn’t fool me! I knew it was you!” And Nick was, like, ‘Nah, you didn’t!”
Nick and John Byrum always had this running thing all the time of trying to out-punk each other. [Laughs.] Nick would put some powder on his nose to look like he’d been snorting up a bunch of cocaine or something, and he’d stand in front of the camera with his nose all white and powdery, and he’d be waiting for Byrum to say, “Cut! What the hell’s going on? You know, Nolte, you got a little something there…” And I was just standing there, trying to be serious. But Byrum would never go for it. He’d just say, “That’s funny, Nick,” and Nick would be, like, sniffing away, rubbing his nose, and drawing as much attention as possible to the fact that he looked like he’d just found an ounce of coke. But Bryum wasn’t going for it. Nick would just keep sniffing and sniffing and blowing his nose, ruining the take. Finally, Byrum looked at Nick and said, “You know, Nick, that’s funny, because when I have a cold like you do, it usually slows me down, but it seems to be speeding you up!” So it was funny, because we never knew who’d gotten who.
Well, after we broke into the house, he called the cops, and he had us arrested. The cops showed up and cuffed us! We didn’t know if he was going to let us go, if was going to suddenly go, “Ha-ha! Who gets the last laugh now?” But we were pretty sure he was going to have to let us go, because we had to work at six o’clock in the morning!
So that’s some of the stuff that I remember. And I remember Sissy getting fed up with us. [Laughs.] One time we were down at the Roosevelt… We were downtown at an old hotel, and the table was literally covered with glasses ‘til two in the morning. Nick and I were sitting there with Billy, and Sissy had joined us, but it was late. Nick was going on about something and teasing her and stuff, and here’s little Sissy Spacek, she jumps up and lifts up the end of the table – the entire end of the table – and every one of the glasses slid down across the table into Nick’s lap. And she said, “Well, bless your heart. Now who’s laughing?”
I don’t think the movie did too well, for some reason. But I remember Jessica Lange came in to read for that movie, and I thought she was fantastic, but Byrum said, “Ah, she’s just a model!” You never know…
Nick Nolte:
48 Hours (1982)—“Jack Cates”
The back story: This is really just an expansion of the existing 48 Hours story, but here’s the set-up, which you already know if you’ve read the interview (and if you haven’t yet read the interview, then you should really go read that first):
I asked Nolte, “What were your thoughts when you first met Eddie Murphy? Did you feel like he had a certain something?”
He laughed and said, “Well, you know, it’s funny you ask that…”
Nolte didn’t watch Saturday Night Live and therefore didn’t know who Eddie was, so Walter Hill, who directed 48 Hours, sent Nolte to New York to meet his soon-to-be co-star. Nolte did at least manage to make it to NYC, but…well, that’s where we pick up the story:
So I’m in New York, I got as far as 48th Street, and there was this black saxophone player down there… [Hesitates.] This is when it was pretty dumpy down there, before Giuliani cleaned it up. We, uh, got carried away there for about three days there. I won’t fill you in, but…we just got carried away for three days, and I said, “I’ve gotta get over and meet this black cat over at Saturday Night Live!” And he says, “Oh, you can’t use him.” I said, “What do you mean we can’t use him?” “He’s a base freak!” “You mean freebase?” “Yeah! He’s a base freak!” I said, “Okay, well, I don’t need to go there!” [Laughs.]
So I went back to Walter’s office, and I said, “Well, we can’t use Eddie Murphy.” “What do you mean? Why?” “Well, he’s a base freak.” “What do you mean, ‘base freak’?” “Well, he cooks cocaine!” He said, “Eddie Murphy?” I said, “Yeah!” He says, “Did you meet him?” And I paused. And he goes, “You didn’t meet him, did you?” I paused. [Cackles.] He said, “All right, Nolte, that’s the last time I’m sending you out without me. Get out of here!” So that was supposed to be my introduction to Eddie Murphy…
Norman Lloyd:
Omnibus (1952-1953)—director
The back story: When I did my Random Roles interview with Norman, I began the process of transcribing the conversation and realized that there were still a few things that I’d really intended to cover but which we hadn’t managed to touch on. Thankfully, he was agreeable to hopping back on the phone, at which point we actually ended up with more than the A.V. Club was willing to print. This particular anecdote, however, was one that was clearly of personal importance to him, so I made a point of posting it on NewsReviewsInterviews at the time…and now I’m making a point of posting it here, too!
You directed a number of episodes of Omnibus, among them the five-part saga of Mr. Lincoln, on which Stanley Kubrick was—at least for the first installment, anyway—your second-unit director.
Norman Lloyd: Well, yeah, I mean, it didn’t come to anything. [Laughs.] But while I’ve got you on the phone, I have something that I’d like to talk about in that regard, about Kubrick. The piece was written by James Agee, it was produced by Richard de Rochemont, the brother of Louis de Rochemont, who started The March of Time, and our conversation may give me an opportunity to rectify something!
Now, when we made these pictures, there were five of them—five half-hours, about 34 minutes each—and I was put on as the director, I’m certain, because of James Agee. Because I knew Jim Agee, and I’d met him up at Chaplin’s. That’s Charlie Chaplin’s. [Laughs.] And I’m sure he recommended me for this job.
So we started shooting the first episode in New York, over on 10th Avenue, in a studio that belonged to one of the major studios. Maybe to Fox. Whatever it was, it was over on 10th Avenue. Now, as a consequence, after we shot that first one, the story called for Lincoln as a teenager—at maybe 17 or 18—to head for Indiana, and then he went to New Salem, where history really began. And we moved the entire production out to New Salem, Illinois, and did those remaining four pictures out there, on location, up until the point where he made his first entrance into politics. Actually, a village had been put together to reproduce the village as it was during Lincoln’s time.
Now, here’s the thing; Richard de Rochemont, who was a superb producer, said to me, “While you’re taking actors out there to work, we need some second-unit stuff done.” No scenes, really, but de Rochemont wanted shots of where Lincoln was born, the cabin he was born in, and all that area. That is to say, Kentucky. So de Rochemont suggested that I look at some film that this very young fellow named Stanley Kubrick, who was a photographer for Look Magazine, had made. And he said, “If you like what he’s shot—there’s a movie he made called Fear and Desire—then we’ll put him on to do the second-unit shooting of the cabins, people walking through the area where Lincoln had been born, and to show the very young baby Lincoln.” So I looked at this picture, Fear and Desire. I don’t want to speak ill of anyone, but I want to tell you that Stanley Kubrick tried to have the picture destroyed after he became a proper director. [Laughs.] This is true, what I tell you! The picture was in blank verse. Do I need to tell you anymore?
I don’t think so.
Ah, but the camerawork was done by Stanley. And it was written by a guy named (Howard) Sackler who eventually wrote the Jack Johnson story. It was called The Great White Hope, and it was about a fighter. But I saw Fear and Desire, and I thought, “Well, the script is terrible.” And I’m not going to go into a judgment of that,
but…he did operate the camera very well. He had an eye. It was clear that he had an eye. So I said to de Rochemont, “Hire him! Put him on!” I think Stanley was about 21. And he went on, and he shot the stuff around Kentucky, slaves going through in wagons and things of that nature, while I took the company with the written script and started to direct the rest of the show. Now, this is the thing which you can rectify in history.
I would be honored.
Did you ever see the Lincoln films?
No, I have an Omnibus set, a best-of collection, but I don’t think they’re on that. I believe they released a collection that’s just those five episodes.
Yes, they put together a version of them, and they’ve included one of the great sequences: the Lincoln funeral train. Now, de Rochemont, being a heads-up producer, had—before we ever shot any of the film—shot about 5,000 feet of film of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad, the train they had at the time of Lincoln’s death. He shot that under the direction of a very good documentarian called Palmer Williams.
When I came along, we were shooting script, and there was much more to shoot in regard to the train, particularly where I was doing the Walt Whitman poem, “When Lilac Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d,” which Whitman wrote about Lincoln’s death. I recited the poem and I myself shot about another 5,000 feet on a branch line in Flemington, New Jersey, which included story and people. Palmer Williams’ work was just beautiful shots of the train, and then when I came on, we put people in the shots who were related to the story.
So that completed the train sequence of the movie, and the train turned out to be one of the most beautiful sequences you’ve ever seen. And it was edited by a guy named Maury Wiseman, who did a fantastic job of cutting the shots of the train moving through the Illinois fields slowly—chug, chug, chug—and my voice under it. It became an absolutely masterful and moving sequence. It’s a tremendous sequence.
Now, what I want to tell you is this. I just a moment ago recited to you that I agreed to Stanley Kubrick to be on as second-unit at the suggestion of de Rochemont, but he had absolutely nothing to do with this sequence. Zero! [Laughs.] But because in his lexicography—or whatever you call it—he had put in that he was a second-unit director on the Lincoln films, as a consequence of this, when the television company put out the Lincoln films as a package years after we shot it, they wrote about the greatness of this sequence…directed by Stanley Kubrick! They saw that he was second-unit, so they put that he directed it. He had zero to do with it! I have been trying to rectify this for years, to no avail.
I’ll make sure the word gets out at long last.
You are the man who comes to the rescue…because I was intelligent enough to call you back! [Laughs.] But this is the true story I give you: that sequence was made by Palmer Williams, myself, and Maury Wiseman, the cutter. I mean, the way he put those trips of the train, the locomotive and the whole schmear is beautiful.
Now, Stanley… [Starts to laugh.] A couple of people from the company were sent down there to do a couple of shots that de Rochemont wanted, and Stanley was interviewed by the newspapers. And the actors all sent me clippings from the newspapers, and what was clear from the clippings was that Stanley was directing the picture! He made sure that that was the impression they got! So they sent me all this stuff, and I said, “Oh, well, the hell with it.” So we went on shooting the picture.
And they came off of the location and came back, and Stanley came back as well, and he was very personable, and we chatted and so on. And then he said, “Now, would you like me to stay around and work with you on this?” I said, “No, thank you, Stanley,” having seen the releases about how he’s directing the picture. So I let him go. But he was a good guy and a very fine talent and did wonderful work. I just want to straighten out that this sequence, the train, was not Stanley Kubrick! [Laughs.]