Bacall goes on to reminisce about all the friends and family who stopped by during that dreadful year, which she claimed at age 80, "will be with [her] for the rest of [her] life. But after nitrogen mustard treatments significantly weakened the star, Bacall "made some ground rules" and began to monitor guests, slowing down the traffic considerably.
Consequently, those who had not seen Bogart in a while were utterly shocked at the star's physical appearance when they were allowed to visit him. One friend, Bacall says, "gasped" when she entered the room. During a later visit by producer Sam Goldwyn and director William Wyler, Bogart called the nurse for a shot of morphine, "pulled up one pajama leg [and exposed] his pathetic frail limb. Bacall did not have to be so candid about this particular part of her life.
But their autobiographies reduce these events to a couple of pages, and virtually no details are disclosed. As such, the star images of Tracy and Powell remain mostly intact. But Bacall does give us this information.
Perhaps she wanted the reader to see Bogart as she did: a man with "so many, many layers that, as well as I knew him, I'm sure I never uncovered them all. For those who know the real story, Bogart and Bacall's romance isn't just one of Hollywood's most legendary — it's one of Hollywood's most human.
While on the set Bogart was the consummate professional, obsessively punctual and always ready with his lines he possessed a near-photographic memory. He limited his drinking on the job to a single can of beer he packed in his lunchbox. A cog in the movie factory that was Warner Brothers, he cranked out a movie every six months, usually playing a subsidiary role as a brooding gangster.
When he got off work it was a different story. When he got home he would relax with a few more, then call around to see who was up for some carousing. After organizing his drunkard army, he would march resolutely out to seize the night. When his wife Mary finally came out to see him, Bogart was already involved with his next wife, actress Mayo Methot. If Mary was a giant among drinkers, then Mayo was Godzilla. With a temper to match. After a speedy divorce, Bogart married Mayo in The celebrity-studded affair, fueled by Black Velvets, quickly denigrated into a drunken orgy, culminating with an explosive battle between the betrothed.
Whereas Bogart was generally a supremely controlled boozer, Mayo was the classic caricature of the bad drunk. Hollywood soon became acquainted, scandalized, then amused by their booze-fueled public battles, usually involving thrown plates and glassware. It got so bad many clubs issued standing orders against the pair being on the premises at the same time.
Perhaps on some level, Bogart needed Mayo. He loved to argue and drink and she was a master at both, if much more given to physical violence.
She also helped his career—when they met she was at her cinematic height and could lend a hand up. And up he went, while she started a sullen spiral downward. And if he needed a little extra inspiration, Mayo was more than willing to come through with some casual gunplay. Writer Robert Massey and his wife were having cocktails with Bogart in his living room when gunshots rang out from upstairs. After threatening to shoot through the locked door, she instead shot his suitcase full of holes, much to the hilarity of Bogart.
He called his publicist never the police and by the time he arrived, scared out of his wits, Bogart was relaxing in the bathtub with a cocktail. She eventually stabbed him in the back. Bogart came home after a night of bar-hopping and Mayo, convinced he was returning from a whorehouse, lunged at him with a kitchen knife, stabbing him in the lower back.
Faint from blood loss, he called his agent Sam Jaffe never a doctor. A studio doctor was summoned then bribed not to tell the police. On the advice of Jaffe, Bogart took out a hundred-thousand-dollar life insurance policy. Mayo was not the beneficiary. Bogart did seem to find at least some inspiration in the constant warfare, turning in some of his finest performances, playing every stripe of drunkard from the noble existentialist drowning his past in Casablanca, to the brooding and violent screenwriter in In A Lonely Place.
He was transforming into a larger-than-life character that unapologetically shoved his way into the American Psyche until he seemed to almost stand astraddle Hollywood, casting a tall shadow that stretched across the entire country.
A shadow that would sometimes touch his fans when they least expected it. Once, after a long night of drinking, Bogart found himself at dawn staggering through unfamiliar Hollywood streets. Hammered, unshaven and disheveled, he noticed a light burning in one of the windows.
He approached, drawn by the smell of frying bacon, and looked inside to see a woman cooking breakfast for her family. He stood there a while, leering drunkenly, until the woman noticed him and let loose a scream. He finished breakfast, called a cab and left the family with a story their friends would never believe. It was during this period Bogart met a man who would also become a Hollywood titan—and his greatest drinking buddy. Two like minds recognized each other immediately and from their first martini lunch they became legendary drinking companions.
With matching wits and a kindred love of drinking, the two would collaborate again and again, assembling some the finest movies of all time in between prodigal bouts of boozing. Their wives began to suspect the pair made movies merely as an excuse to get together and drink, and they might have been right. He demanded to be sent to North Africa and Italy to entertain the troops and Mayo went with him.
They took their public brawl on the road and never missed a beat. Bogart enjoyed pounding booze with the enlisted men, if not the officers, and the grateful troops would often give him guns. He and Mayo would return to their USO quarters fantastically drunk and, in the patriotic spirit of the times, would shoot holes in the roof until the guns were wrestled away by startled officers.
As always, Bogart had run-ins with authority. On one occasion, after getting locked out of his room after a drunken battle with Mayo, a colonel confronted him and tried to dress him down Bogie was wearing a USO uniform. Asking for his name, rank and serial number, Bogart replied.
And you can go to hell. Perhaps because of that, they managed to remain dysentery free throughout the shoot. Stomach problems tormented most of the cast. Hepburn plays the prim sister of a missionary who helps him with his congregation, including playing the organ.
The actress had to have a bucket kept nearby because between takes she might be sick. Whenever a fly bit Huston or me, it dropped dead. Related story from us: Humphrey Bogart was expelled from Phillips Academy, allegedly after throwing the headmaster into a pond. In the midst of these forays and night-long arguments, he had strength enough to caper. Once, producer Mark Hellinger took him to a Sunset Strip gambling establishment. The man at the peephole immediately locked the door.
But what mystifies her is this: Mrs. May Smith, his cook, has been with him for 16 years. Aurellio Salazar, his gardener, for 15; and Mrs. Kathleen Sloan, his secretary, for 8. Subscribe to the magazine for more art, inspiring stories, fiction, humor, and features from our archives.
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