All photos by Jay
Someone sent me an on-line promo yesterday from a group called AMERICAN CINEMATHEQUE which was promoting a screening at 7:30 pm Thursday the 20th at Santa Monica's Aero Theatre (1428 Montana Avenue, Santa Monica 90403) for its members and the public of a film which I had produced, LADY SINGS THE BLUES. I gather that its part of their Jazz on Film series. There was a headline that said, "Jazz Musician Corky Hale in Person. Rare Screening!" Followed by a note: "All ticket buyers will be eligible to win a Billie Holiday CD courtesy of Sony Legendary Recordings." There was then a note that the film's introduction would be by jazz musician Corky Hale, who accompanied Billie Holiday in 1956.
Jay with Diana Ross on the set of the movie in 1970.
Then: "Diana Ross earned an Oscar nomination for her feature debut as Billie Holiday in this loose adaptation of the legendary jazz singer's autobiography. As she rises from Harlem brothel worker to Carnegie Hall headliner, Lady Day struggles with racism and drugs. Billy Dee Williams and Richard Pryor respectively play the angel and the devil on her shoulders."
Billy Dee Williams on the set of his first film.
Whew! This was a lot to take in. I went to the group's website to learn more about them, and read that they were a non-profit organization, "the only public alternative screening organization in town which offers such a wide variety of film and video programming from all over the world on a weekly basis." They offer various levels of membership, beginning with an annual $65 charge ($55 for students and seniors) and going up to thousands of dollars for permanent membership with benefits. They mainly show their films at the Egyptian Theatre in Hollywood, as well as Santa Monica's Aero Theatre. One of their seeming goals is the preservation of the legendary Egyptian. All good so far. For further membership information, contact Andrew Crane at (323) 461-2020x12 or go to Andrew@americancinematheque.com.
A poster from the film.
But then my brain began to crackle. In a a city where the film's producer, the director (Sidney Furie), one of the writers (Suzanne DePasse), some of the stars (Diana, Billy) all reside and might have been happy to attend and introduce, to have our film introduced by a woman who says she once played piano for Billie fifty or sixty years ago is kind of ludicrous. Corky is a brilliant jazz harpist married to a wonderful famous songwriter. But during the long 13-years saga when I was fighting every day to keep my bought-and-paid for (with blood and $5,000. A year option money) film rights against voracious scavengers, David Susskind, Artie Shaw, and Corky was one of them. But my readers will remember my article yesterday, when I determined that my mantra from now on will be, "I'm too old for that." And thus my ire melted off me and I laughed at the ludicrousness of the situation, and bought a ticket ($12.35) for the screening. I suggest you do the same. It's a magnificent film and Diana Ross is luminous as the incomparable Billie Holiday. Billy Dee Williams deserves the epithet, "the black Clark Gable."
Side note: I first saw Billy Dee as a young actor off-Broadway in 1968 when playwright Bill Hanley and I went to see a performance of Bill's tough work, Slow Dance on the Killing Ground. The young black actor played a tough with a swagger and an umbrella, and he blew us away. We went backstage and I told Billy that if I ever made my dream film about Billie, I wanted him to play her husband, Louis McKay. He looked at me like I was crazy (I guess I was), smiled his great smile, and nodded yes. Two years later, I am in Hollywood having set up the film with Frank Yablans at Paramount (thanks to an actor named Brad Dexter, who had the clout there). Diana Ross was finally in after her manager (and lover) Berry Gordy reluctantly agreed; he had turned us down three times. "Who wants to see a movie about a black junkie singer?" Sidney Furie was in as director (thanks to William Morris' Joe Schoenfeld) after I first saw Furie do a Michael Caine film and admired his shot from the sidewalk up through broken eyeglasses to the star. My loyal writer of eight years, Canadian Terence McCoy, was joined by Motown's powerhouse writing staff led by Suzanne DePasse and Chris Clark, and later they all were nominated for an Academy Award. But no Billy Dee Williams. He had disappeared. No agent, no phone number, no contact, nothing. Then the miracle happened: on a Saturday morning in 1970 I went down to a grocery store on Highland and Hollywood to get ice for my house party in the Hollywood hills that night to celebrate the movie. Diana and Berry would be there. Even the reclusive agent Sue Mengers (an old friend) came with her mother. And standing in the aisle of the grocery store was Billy Dee, with long hair and wearing a dashiki. He must have thought again that I was crazy, but I screamed at him that he must come to my house that night, don't ask questions. He showed up, met Diana, Berry, the director. Utterly charming, but Diana whispered to me, "He's a little young to play McKay." So in the next six weeks we looked at hundreds of actors and then one day Billy called me at my office at Paramount and said, "I've grown a moustache." I told him to come in and we would do a screen test. He did, and Diana agreed to read opposite him. The next afternoon, at 4 p.m., she and I sat at a studio screening room and played the test, the scene in the nightclub where Billie first sees Louis. The spotlight hits the smiling Billy, with his moustache and white suit, and I remember how Diana shrunk down in her seat and in a little girl's voice said, "Jay, he's the one." Thus a star was born!
On the last day of shooting Berry's guy came to me with an offer I could not refuse: an enormous amount of money if Berry could have an Executive Producer credit on the film. Yes, sure. Chicago attorney-to-the-mob Harry Korshak's son worked diligently on the film as a production assistant. We shot at Paramount at the same time Francis Coppola was shooting The Godfather there. One of his stars was Al Pacino, whom I had recommended to him after Al starred for me on Broadway in his Tony Award-winning role in Does a Tiger Wear a Necktie. I had sent him to Francis to audition for the role of Sonny, the brother. Three weeks later Al appeared at my door on Central Park West and asked for a quarter for the bus uptown. (He was living with Jill Clayburgh at the time.) He then offhandedly said, "I got the role of Michael." Another star was born.
The rest is history. Lady Sings The Blues went on to be an enormous success, even playing the closing night at the Cannes Film Festival. It was nominated for five Academy Awards. Diana lost out as Best Actress to Liza Minnelli. And I later learned that the members of the Academy (of which I am now one) resented the enormous barrage of ads which Berry Gordy took to tout our star. Berry then bought all foreign distribution rights to the film, reimbursing Paramount its entire $2.5 million investment in the film. Don't ask. But join me at the Aero on Thursday night, the 20th. We'll have a grand time and see a fine film.
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