The next night, I invited Calhern to dinner at a restaurant. He looked around the room and said, “I hope no one sees us together. It would spoil my reputation. I should have worn a mask.”
“I understand you turned down the part of Benjamin Goodman.”
“You call that a part?” he snorted. “By the way, I liked your script.”
I began my pitch. “Louie, it’s going to be a big picture and I want you to be part of it. Your character is essential to the plot. Your performance would make the picture. It’s going to vault your career to the top. And it would be very good for you—”
I went on for the next half hour being Otto, and when I was through, Calhern said, “You’re right. I’ll do it.”
The reviews and the box office were only fair and it did not vault Calhern’s career to the top.
Once a year, the international distributors and exhibitors of MGM movies were invited to Culver City, to learn about the upcoming projects. It was an exciting time for the studio. The representatives of more than a dozen countries around the world were brought to a huge soundstage to hear about the new films.
Dore addressed the assembly. “This is going to be one of the best years we’ve ever had,” he promised them.
After a short speech, he began to read the list of the upcoming movies, naming the stars, directors, and writers of each one. I was told later that after he had named a few pictures, he came across one of mine.
“Rich, Young and Pretty, written by Sidney Sheldon.” He named a few more pictures.
Then “Nancy Goes to Rio, written by Sidney Sheldon.”
“No Questions Asked, written by Sidney Sheldon.”
“Three Guys Named Mike, written by Sidney Sheldon.”
The men in the audience began to laugh.
Schary looked up and said, “Sheldon seems to be writing most of our pictures this year.”
That afternoon, Dore called me into his office. “How would you like to be a producer?” he asked.
I was surprised. “I’ve never thought about it.”
“Well, think about it, because as of today, you’re a producer.”
“I don’t know what to say, Dore.”
“You’ve earned it,” he said. “Good luck.”
“Thanks.”
I went back to my office and thought, I’m thirty-four years old, I have an Oscar, and I’m a producer at the biggest motion picture studio in the world.
It was a moment when I should have felt a sense of jubilation. Instead, I was overcome with a feeling of dread. I did not know anything about producing. Dore had made a mistake. There was no way I could do this. I would call Dore and tell him that I could not accept it. He would probably fire me and I would soon be looking for a job.
I tried to sleep that night but it was no use. At midnight I got dressed and went for a walk, thinking about all the things that were happening to me. I remembered the night that Otto had asked me to go for a walk with him. Every day is a different page, Sidney, and they can be full of surprises. You’ll never know what’s next until you turn the page. I would hate to see you close the book too soon and miss all the excitement that could happen to you on the next page.
When I woke up in the morning, I decided to at least attempt to produce a picture. If I failed, I could always go back to being a writer.
That morning, when I went to the studio, I found out I had been moved into a larger office. I also learned that being a producer at Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer was very simple. The story department, which had access to all the publishers, sent every producer synopses of the books that were coming out, along with the plays and original stories that were submitted to the studio. All the producer had to do was choose the one he wanted.
Producers were then given a list of writers available to work on their projects. When the scripts were completed, the casting department got into action. They gave the producers a list of stars, and directors. “Who would you like?”
The last step was Benny Thau, who would make the deals with the agents for the writers, stars, and directors. The producers at Metro literally sat in their offices and pushed buttons. Being a producer was going to be easy.
I still enjoyed giving dinner parties in my home. Friends and actors and directors I had worked with filled my humble abode, and there was never a dull moment.
One night, I decided to make it a musical evening and I invited a group of some of the most talented musicians and composers in Hollywood—all of whom were already successful and went on to have huge careers. Among my guests were:
Alfred Newman, whom we all called “Pappy.” He was short in stature but long on talent. He was nominated for more Oscars than any other composer in motion pictures and had won nine times. He scored more than two hundred films, including Alexander’s Ragtime Band, Call Me Madam, and The King and I.
Victor Young, who was nominated for twenty-two Oscars. He wrote the scores for The Wizard of Oz, The Quiet Man, Around the World in Eighty Days, and Shane.
Dimitri Tiomkin, who scored Lost Horizon, It’s a Wonderful Life, High Noon, and many other pictures.
Johnny Green, who wrote more than a dozen hit songs, including “I Cover the Waterfront,” “Out of Nowhere,” “You’re Mine You.” He scored films for all the major studios.
Bronislau Kaper, who wrote the score for Three Guys Named Mike. He went on to score Green Mansions, Butterfield 8, and Auntie Mame.
André Previn, who found fame as the conductor or musical director of films that included Silk Stockings, Kiss Me Kate, My Fair Lady, Porgy and Bess, and Gigi.