Beautiful Ruins (82)

Dick’s wife found out. And Liz’s husband. The story got even bigger. I told Skouros to have patience. To ride it out.



Then poor Eddie Fisher flew to Rome to try to win his wife back and suddenly I had a new problem. For this to work Liz and Dick had to be together when the film wrapped. When the picture opened on Sunset I needed Dick to be boning Liz in the dining room of the Chateau Marmont. And I needed Eddie Fisher to go limping away. But the son of a bitch wanted to fight for his doomed marriage.



The other problem with Liz’s husband being in Rome was Burton. He sulked. Drank. And he went back to this other woman he’d been seeing on the side off and on since his first day in Italy.



She was tall and blond. Uncommon-looking girl. Camera loved her. All the actresses then were either coupes or sedans. Broads or girls-next-door. But this was something else. Something new. She had no film experience. Came from the stage. Mankie inexplicably cast her as Cleopatra’s lady-in-waiting from nothing more than a casting photo. Figured he’d make Liz look more Egyptian by making one of her slaves blond. Little did he know one of Liz’s ladies-in-waiting was actually waiting for Dick.



Christ. I couldn’t believe it when I saw her. Who puts a tall blond woman in a movie set in ancient Egypt?



I’ll call this girl D—.



This D— was what we’d later call a free spirit. One of those moon-eyed easygoing hippie girls I’d get so much joy out of in the sixties and seventies.



Not that I ever beefed this particular one.



Not that I wouldn’t have.



But with Eddie Fisher skulking around Rome Dick went running back to his backup. This D—. I didn’t figure her to be a problem. Girl like that you just throw a bone. A cherry role. A studio contract. And if she won’t play you fire her. What’s that cost? So I had Mankiewicz start giving her five A.M. calls to get her on set. Get her away from Burton. But then she got sick.



We had an American doctor on set. This man Crane. His whole job was to prescribe meds for Liz. He examined this girl D—. Pulled me aside the next day.



“We got a problem. The girl is pregnant. Doesn’t know it yet. Some quack doc told her she can’t have kids. Well she can.”



Of course I’d arranged abortions before. I worked in publicity. It was practically on the business card. But this was Italy. Catholic Italy 1962. At that time it would have been easier to get a moon rock.



Shit. Here I’m leaking that the two biggest stars in the biggest picture in the world are together and I’ve got to deal with this? Disaster Deane. If Cleopatra comes out and everyone’s talking about our stars’ torrid affair we got a chance. If they’re talking about Burton knocking up some extra and Liz going back to her husband? We’re dead.



I put together a three-part plan. First: get rid of Burton for a while. I knew Dickie Zanuck was in France filming The Longest Day. And I knew he wanted Burton for a cameo to class up his war picture. I knew Burton wanted to do it. But Skouros hated Dick Zanuck. He’d replaced Zanuck’s old man at Fox and there were people on the Fox board who wanted to replace him with dashing young Dickie. So I went behind Skouros’s back. I called Zanuck and rented him Burton for ten days.



Then I called the doctor and told him to bring this girl D— in for more tests. “What kind of tests?” he said.



“You’re the goddamned doctor! Whatever might get her out of town for a while.”



I was afraid he’d be squirrelly. Hippocratic oath and all that. But this Crane jumped at the chance. Next day he comes up with a big smile. “I told her she had stomach cancer.”



“YOU WHAT?”



Crane explained that the early symptoms of pregnancy were consistent with those of stomach cancer. Cramps and nausea and a bunged-up period.



I’d wanted to get rid of her not kill the poor girl.



Doc said not to worry. He’d told her it was treatable. A Swiss doctor with a new procedure. Then he winked. Of course the doctor in Switzerland puts her under. Gives her the short procedure. And when she wakes up her “cancer” is gone. She’s never the wiser. We send her back to the States to recuperate. And I get her work in some pictures back home. Everyone wins. Problem solved. Movie saved.



But this D— was a wild card. Her mother had died of cancer and she took the phony diagnosis worse than bad. And I underestimated Dick’s feelings for her.



On the other front Eddie Fisher had given up and gone home. I called Dick in France to tell him the good news. Liz was ready to see him again. But he couldn’t see Liz right now. This other girl D— had cancer. She was dying. And Dick wanted to be there for her.



“She’ll be fine. There’s a doctor in Switzerland who—”



Dick interrupted me. This D— didn’t want treatment. She wanted to spend the last of her time with him. And the man was narcissistic enough to think this was a good idea. He’s got a two-day break on The Longest Day and he wants to meet D— on the coast in Italy. And since I was so helpful with him and Liz he wants me to set it up.