A Tribute from Shepard Traube

Eleven days after Franchot's death—of lung cancer at the age of 63 on September 18, 1968—Shepard Traube wrote to the editor of The New York Times. I've transcribed that letter here.

To the editor:

I am filled with sorrow that Franchot Tone is no longer with us. He was an artist and a man of grace.

When we were both young men, Franchot was the featured juvenile in a now-forgotten play, "A Thousand Summers," the first Broadway production that I directed. In our company were such deathless stars as Jane Cowl, Osgood Perkins and Josephine Hull. In that group of superb actors, Franchot was a kind of flame. We all knew he was our most promising star of the future, the Hamlet of tomorrow.

It didn't work out quite that way. Franchot went to Hollywood and there was a good deal of turbulence in his life. Yet he never lost his poise, his sense of humor, or his dedication to exquisite standards of taste in the theater.

A couple of summers ago, I took a train to Waterford, Conn., where I was scheduled to participate in a panel discussion for the Eugene O'Neill Foundation people. As I sank into my chair and looked around, there was Franchot, grinning at me quizzically. He was preparing for an experimental production of a play about Gordon Craig, and he was boiling over with excitement about it. There was fire and purpose in him. We babbled to each other during the entire train ride, and continued to talk throughout the day in Waterford. I remember that I had to go back to New York at the end of the afternoon, while he remained on for rehearsals. We hugged each other and said, "Break a bone..."

That's the way I shall remember Franchot.

Shepard Traube

I find this to be a very fitting and, from all I've read about him, an accurate tribute to Franchot. Septembers are always difficult. This year on the anniversary of Franchot's death I needed to see him having fun onscreen so I had a delightful movie marathon featuring the comedies Honeymoon, Man-Proof and The Girl from Missouri.

I ponder what might've been had Franchot lived to the ripe old age of 95. Would he have transitioned into a full-time director and settled down in the theater he purchased shortly before his death? Or maybe change things up and become a theater professor? Would we have seen him finally get his due at awards ceremonies in the 1970's or 1980's? Would he have made a hilarious cameo as a suitor on the first season of The Golden Girls? Franchot was always so versatile that the possibilities are truly endless. 

Source: "Franchot Tone 1905-1968." The New York Times. September 29, 1968.

Franchot headlines the Mark Twain Festival

Franchot's lecture was the highlight of the Mark Twain Festival that took place at Elmira College from October 12th to October 14th, 1960. Franchot's presentation was titled "An Actor's Approach to Mark Twain" and was scheduled for 8:30 p.m. on Friday, October 14th at the Emerson Building auditorium.

Ad for Franchot's lecture. Source: Elmira Telegraph. October 9, 1960.

Franchot was requested for the lecture after gaining rave reviews for his performance as Mark Twain in Horton Foote's "The Shape of the River," which aired as a Playhouse 90 production on May 2, 1960.  Interestingly enough, the Playhouse 90 production that set Franchot up for this particular lecture was about Mark Twain preparing for the lecture circuit! Twain's niece said about Franchot, "He seemed more like my uncle than any of the many Mark Twain impersonators I have seen." Before the event, it was publicized that Horton Foote would accompany him, but I cannot locate any proof that Foote definitely attended. He's not mentioned in any of the interviews or articles about the presentation, so I'm not sure if he visited with Franchot or not.

The Shape of the River, 1960. Source: my collection.

Franchot started off his presentation by joking that the audience should bear with him as he spoke "from the top" of his head and that if everyone stayed until the end he would return the admission fee. It was later disclosed that Franchot generously returned both the admission fees and his lecture fee.

Franchot described how he prepared to play Mark Twain in "The Shape of the River" before reading Twain's "Roughing It." Next, Franchot read part of Susan Twain's essay on her father that explained how Mark Twain stopped going to church because "he couldn't bear to hear anyone else talk but him." After this essay, Franchot joked that once he knew that fact about Twain "all I had to do was let the ham in me out." Franchot also read from Twain's "The Mysterious Stranger" and "Jumping Frog of Calaveras County."

Franchot then showed several clips of Mark Twain, played recorded imitations and finally, played a recording of his very first rehearsal imitating Twain. In addition to the readings and conversation, Franchot screened clips of his television portrayal as Mark Twain.

500 people attended Franchot's lecture and called it "smooth...flawlessly imitating...eloquent speech."

Franchot at Mark Twain's grave in Elmira.
Source: Elmira Advertiser. October 15, 1960.

Franchot at Mark Twain's monument.
Source: Elmira Star-Gazette. October 14, 1960.

Before his presentation, Franchot took the time to pay his respects to Mark Twain. He chatted with reporters and citizens over breakfast at the Mark Twain Hotel, brought flowers to and visited the author's grave, and toured the author's study with Elmira College president Dr. J. Ralph Murray.

Franchot and Dr. J. Ralph Murray at the Mark Twain Study.
Source: Elmira Star-Gazette, October 14, 1960.

Franchot had arrived in Elmira the night before his presentation, on Thursday, October 13th. Reporters and fans met him at the airport. One fan handed him a tiny piece of paper and asked for an autograph for his son. Seeing the size of the paper, Franchot joked, "Well, your son must be a very little boy!" Franchot signed the small paper and was proud of his handiwork. When he finished, he remarked, "There! I could have gotten it on the head of a pin."

Franchot was questioned about the speech he was due to deliver the following night. What would he say on stage? Franchot encouraged the crowd to "come up to the college to hear my speech and you'll find out what I'm going to say. Everything I'm going to say will be completely ad lib. I haven't anything prepared—I think a lecture loses its freshness if it's prepared."

One spectator didn't seem to understand the notion of ad lib and caught Franchot off guard when he asked, "How long does it take to prepare an ad lib speech?" Franchot laughed and responded, "Well, you've got to think about it for a long time."

Members of the Thomas A. Edison High School Thespis club were able to enjoy breakfast with Franchot while he was in town and called him "delightful." Elmira resident Helen Brown asked reporter Peggy Gallagher to relay to Franchot Tone that she loved him to which Franchot replied, "That's one thing I never get tired of hearing."

For further reading and two more photos of Franchot at Elmira, you can read about what he said on politics here and what he said about choosing the acting profession here.

Sources:
"Appearing at Elmira College..." Elmira Telegraph. October 9, 1960.
Bannister, Sharon and John Gardner. "Edison Bits." Elmira Star-Gazette. October 23, 1960.
"College Taps Tone for Twain Festival." Elmira Star-Gazette. October 2, 1960.
"Franchot Tone Draws 500 for Mark Twain Festival." Elmira Advertiser. October 15, 1960.
Gallagher, Peggy. "Evenin' Neighbor!" Elmira Star-Gazette. October 17, 1960.
Gallagher, Peggy. "Franchot to Give Twain Tone." Elmira Star-Gazette. October 14, 1960.
Morken, Mary Lee. "Actor Long Acquainted with Twain." Elmira Advertiser. October 14, 1960.

Franchot on Understanding the Acting Profession

Franchot over breakfast. Source: Elmira Star-Gazette.

Reporter Peggy Gallagher interviewed Franchot over breakfast on his first morning in Elmira, New York. He was due to give a presentation on Mark Twain at Elmira College that evening. When asked if he was comfortable portraying older men or father figures, Franchot assured that he felt very comfortable in the role and proudly talked of his sons Pat and Jeff:

And, the rascals! They both want to be actors...A useless profession! Unless you thoroughly understand it, of course. But, I don't see that they'll ever work their way out. They're thoroughly soaked in theater. 

Franchot went on to explain that although he'd prefer "physics, law, chemistry" for his sons, he would not have chosen a different life for himself.

But, that's what I mean—I understand it. Let me explain it this way: entertainment, as a function of escape for the human race, has been in its best times a signpost to the greater aspirations of which the human race is capable...how's that sound for 9:30 in the morning?

When Gallagher pressed for more meaning, Franchot answered:

It means the entertainment business makes dreams real—and it's the dreams of man which have made our world possible.

Franchot went on to share that he preferred the theater over film because of the "immediate relationship with the audience."

And when asked about the high point of his career, Franchot insisted that his high point was still to come.

There was a very wonderful book by the author, Christopher Morley, about a cocker spaniel named Mr. Gissing. Mr. Gissing lived in a valley. He kept looking at the hillside and at the blue beyond. He decided he wanted to climb the hill and find out where the blue began. But when he reached the top, doggone if he didn't find another hill!

The novel that Franchot refers to is Where the Blue Begins and was first published in 1922 and its author also penned the 1939 novel Kitty Foyle, which was brought to the screen with Ginger Rogers in the title role in 1940.

Franchot talked quite a bit with Elmira reporters (here's what he said about politics) and there is more to come about his presentation on Mark Twain!

Source:
Gallagher, Peggy. "Franchot to Give Twain Tone." Elmira Star-Gazette. October 14, 1960.

Franchot's Association with the Group Theater, Part 2

Franchot left the Group for Hollywood (click here for part one of this story), but he continued to support them. Harold Clurman wrote that Franchot's financial generosity funded much of the Group's script purchases and productions.

Franchot wrote to Harold that the Group had been ¨the most important influence¨ in his life, but that he deeply loved Joan Crawford and intended to remain with her in Hollywood. Franchot knew that the Group members judged him for his decision, yet they also came to him frequently for money, the same money he made from the Hollywood career choices on which they judged him. Clurman recalled spending afternoons with Franchot and Joan when he visited California:

Franchot was happy to play the host to his companions of old. To him we were clean spirits who brought light and warmth into his almost locked heart. Joan Crawford, a good sport, wanted to make friends with Franchot's friends. She thought at times of appearing on the stage, an ambition perhaps stimulated by Franchot. She wished to be able to follow him in all his steps, so that he might not be included to wander too far from hers.

In the afternoon we would chat, mostly about the theatre, play badminton, swim in the pool, dine, and see a picture in the projection-room, right off the pool. It was quite a pleasant routine that we followed almost every time we visited them. Once, while I lay afloat in the pool, basking lazily in the Sunday sun, Franchot observed me with friendly malice and remarked: “The life of a prostitute is pretty comfortable, isn’t it?”

Often, Franchot would take a loss on his investments with the Group. Clurman remembered:

He wanted to know about his failure to realize any money on Awake and Sing, and I tried not to be sheepish in admitting our mismanagement. He did not take the matter amiss however (in these questions he always alternated between peevishness and indulgence). Basically Franchot was an idealist, and he still idealized Lee Strasberg and me. Though in the long run there is more peril than pleasure in being idealized, I was at the moment the beneficiary of Franchot’s warmest hospitality. I was the (awkward) prophet of a religion centered in the theatre. Franchot’s wife, Joan Crawford, was prepared to believe. Some day, Franchot intimidated, he would return to the theatre, and, at the time, theatre was synonymous to him with the Group.

Franchot's return to the Group-1939's The Gentle People

The success of Golden Boy strengthened Franchot's desires to return to the stage, or as Clurman put it, Franchot ¨glowed in anticipation.¨ Once his marriage to Joan ended, Franchot found himself financing and starring in The Gentle People. Clurman no doubt was eager for Franchot's return to the theater and credited his ¨excellent¨ talent many times over the years, but he also seemed to be banking on the fact that two former Group actors-turned-movie stars (Franchot and Sylvia Sidney) would fill seats whether the play was a hit or not. Although definitely using Franchot's financial and professional reputation for the Group's gain, Clurman did seem to care and worry about Franchot the idealist:

I warned Franchot that he might encounter disappointment in the Group…I suspected that Franchot looked toward the Group with the fondness of a youthful memory. “Franchot, “I said, “promise me that you will stay with us for one year no matter what happens. Give yourself and us a chance.” Franchot looked solemn and uncertain, but he promised.

Franchot threw himself into his work with an eager will. On the whole, he was well pleased with the conduct of rehearsals; his criticisms were affable and slight. When conferences on the progress of The Gentle People were held, I failed to invite him to join them, as it was not our custom to consult members of the cast on production problems of the plays in which they took part. That Franchot was not only one of the leading players but the play’s backer gave him no special privilege in this matter. It was not my intention to snub him in any way, but Irwin Shaw pointed out that, whatever my intention , my behavior was tactless. Franchot, however, bore this with good grace. 

But Franchot was restless, just as he'd been in the year leading up to his departure from the Group and arrival in Hollywood years before. He praised the Group at a speech he gave at the Town Hall Club, saying:

I’d better not get started on the Group,” he began, “because I’ll get emotional about it and then I won’t be able to talk at all...The Group has a well-defined attitude toward human problems and affairs, and while I’m perfectly sure that such a formalized policy as this is by no means necessary to success in the theatre, it is necessary to me.

Still, Franchot turned down Clurman's offer to do the play Quiet City saying that he was too tired to do more than one play at a time. When he was offered My Heart's in the Highlands, Franchot made stipulations before stating that he didn't feel he would do a good job in the role.

When Franchot wouldn't fully commit to the Group in the 1940's, Elia Kazan, Clurman, and others staged a sort of intervention with him. They asked him to commit to them and trust in them and the theater. Franchot asked if they respected him. When they answered that he was the kind of actor they needed, Franchot asked pointedly, ¨But you don't respect the reputation I have made in pictures?¨ Clurman answered, ¨This is not why we want you.¨ Franchot confirmed his fears about the Group when he asked, ¨But you are willing to exploit my name for its commercial value?¨ and Clurman answered, ¨Of course.¨

In his book, Clurman seems misunderstood about why Franchot alternated between complete worship and bitterness in his feelings about the Group, even going so far to say that Franchot ¨built up a case against us in his mind. Perhaps he needed an inner justification for giving us up.¨ I don't believe it's that hard to see why Franchot had mixed feelings about the Group and in all of my own personal research I have only read kind or nostalgic remarks about the Group from Franchot in interviews. As late as 1966 Franchot was praising Lee Strasberg to TV Guide:

Everything I know about acting I learned from Lee Strasberg. At the Group, I learned Strasberg's variant on the Stanislavsky System—that's S-y-s-t-e-m, not Method. Method actors lack discipline. System actors are disciplined. I'm a pretty good actor today only because I've always renewed myself at the feedbag—the theater.

It's clear that Franchot acted out in many ways, but it is also clear that he had some insecurities and wanted to be told he was valued for his own talent. When he wrote to Clurman baring his soul about his deep appreciation for the Group, Franchot probably hoped for a return letter with the same sentiment about himself. Instead, he received a letter requesting money to fund another show. Back in the early 30's, young Franchot had been hurt when Strasberg told him they didn't care that he was leaving for Hollywood; after all, Franchot was secretly hoping for validation (and a personal request to stay with the Group) from this father figure he idealized. It's no surprise that Franchot would be sullen and hurt again in the 1940's when he realized that the Group begging him to come back still didn't fully respect or include him despite now benefiting from his wealth and celebrity status.

Despite this complicated history with the organization, Franchot was proud of his association with the Group and always attributed his passion for acting with the skills and conditioning he gained as a Group member.

You might also be interested in these previous related posts:
Franchot's Association with the Group Theater, Part 1
Franchot and Sylvia Sidney
An Ernest Hemingway Hero
The Gentle People
The Strasbergs Remember Franchot
John Garfield Blogathon

Sources:

• Clurman, Harold. The Fervent Years: The Story of the Group Theatre and the Thirties. Knopf, 1950. 
• Kramer, Joan, David Heeley, Joanne Woodward, Steve Lawson, Stella Adler, Harold Clurmaan, Cheryl Crawford, and Lee Strasberg. Broadway's Dreamers: The Legacy of the Group Theatre. New York, N.Y: PDR Productions, 1994. 
• Lewis, Robert. Slings and Arrows: Theater in My Life. Stein and Day, 1984. 
• Smith, Wendy. Real Life Drama: The Group Theatre and America, 1931-1940. Knopf, 1990.
• "Who Has Ever Had a Better Time?" TV Guide. January 1, 1966. 12-14.

Franchot's Association with the Group Theatre, Part 1

Theater director Harold Clurman invited Franchot to join the Group Theatre after seeing him in the 1928 play The International.

Although Franchot and actor Morris Carnovsky were already both on contract with the guild, they were allowed to participate in the Group Theatre's intensive project to create a community of actors that tackled social justice and the world within its plays. In his book The Fervent Years, Clurman explained the group's goal:

...to go away to some country place with twenty-eight actors and rehearse two plays till they were ready for production in New York. We would pay no salaries, but we would provide meals, living quarters, laundry expense.

We had chosen our actors before we knew what play we would do. They were our actors, and they would have to suit our plays. That is what we directors were there for. Nor did we have any money to finance our ambitious plan. We only had the will to carry it out. When the Guild agreed to let us have The House of Connelly and a thousand dollars, they were our only concrete assets.

Billy Rose Theatre Division, The New York Public Library.
"Margaret Barker and Franchot Tone in the stage production The House of Connelly."
The New York Public Library Digital Collections. 1931.
 http://digitalcollections.nypl.org/items/6adb3a10-2408-0133-8625-58d385a7b928

On the morning of June 8, 1931, a group of over 30 people (including actors, spouses, children, directors, friends) traveled to Connecticut to begin working. On moving in day, Franchot started a baseball game “to overcome the natural self-consciousness of the occasion.” Clurman also noticed that Stella Adler looked sadly on her fellow actors, as it looked more like a “camp for overgrown high-school kids.”

The actors rehearsed morning, noon, and night, and in between rehearsals played piano, cards, and debated. During the card games, Franchot led the others in pranking a young member of the group. They would deal him unbeatable hands until he gained confidence in betting and then deal him terrible hands. Lee and Harold observed this one night and found it “very funny, particularly since the hoax was executed with consummate sangfroid and deftness by Franchot Tone.”

Although Franchot was a respected man and actor within the group and had helped to make the group feel comfortable, there came a time when "some of the actors began to be troubled by Franchot Tone’s attitude." Clurman went on:

He was, of course, one of the original 1928 group. Since then he had had the opportunity to feel his oats. He had played leading parts on Broadway, he was in demand, and the other actors sensed in him a general resistance that at times manifested itself toward the directors and at other times toward the influences prevailing among the group. Actually he was suffering from a variety of growing-pains, but our work as such was not in question.

He was lonely. Though he had been raised in easy circumstances, and had been popular at college, he was not a good mixer. He was shy, with a tendency toward suspiciousness when ill at ease. He particularly suspected that he was not liked because, being more privileged than others, he was regarded as somewhat inferior in character. There was perhaps a mite of truth in his suspicions, but, for my part, I believed they lay chiefly in his distrust of himself. The tension that gripped him made him rude, almost insolent. He was unconsciously revenging himself on us, testing both himself and us. Thus he demonstrated little courtesy to Strasberg, although he had real admiration for him.

Franchot, intelligent and sometimes psychologically keen, said to me, 'In the old days we talked only when we didn’t work. Now we work only when we don’t talk!' I was somewhat taken aback by the remark and repeated it to Strasberg. He agreed at once: Yes, we talk a lot because we are not simply rehearsing a play; we are laying the foundation for a theatre. Our theatre is more than just a matter of getting one or two plays produced.

The actors, I repeat, watched Franchot with increasing misgivings. Why was he allowed to get away with little breaches of politeness and discipline? He rarely came to the afternoon talks. He lumbered into rehearsals, sat aloof, whittled away at the side of the barn as he rehearsed. No one reprimanded him. Was he a favored child among the directors? Was he to be treated as a star? Was Lee afraid of him? These disturbing questions were never openly put because the actors had an abiding confidence in the directors’ good sense in handling the problem⁠—if it was a problem.

Despite Franchot's turn to loneliness and rebelliousness, Clurman refers to him at this time as "the finest young actor of recent arrival." Franchot continuously contributed his own money to help fund the group's endeavors, often giving $1,000 or more for each play. With the Group, Franchot starred in 1931, House of Connelly, Night over Taos, Red Rust, and Success Story.

Billy Rose Theatre Division, The New York Public Library.
"Rose McClendon, Fanny de Knight, Franchot Tone, and Margaret Barker
 in the stage production The House of Connelly." The New York Public Library Digital Collections.
1931. http://digitalcollections.nypl.org/items/d100e900-2405-0133-b1f9-58d385a7b928

Beginning in 1932, Clurman noticed that the group began "turning in on itself." Actors became more confrontational and suspicious of one another's motives. The bubble started to burst. Clurman recalled the changes in Franchot at this time:

In Franchot’s case the matter was special. The girl Franchot was attached to at the time, the one who worked with us in the old Riverside Drive days, visited him one weekend. Somehow we didn’t think she was Group material. Franchot’s life with the Group would have been much easier if she had spent more time with us, but Franchot was too proud to say so, and we were too one-tracked in our thinking to notice it. The girl felt separated from Franchot by us and would have been pleased if we had asked her to remain and work with us, even as an apprentice. We disregarded her very existence, and Franchot was irritated by our tactlessness.

Franchot was very emotionally attached to the Group and, in spite of or perhaps witnessed in his rebellious nature, was desperate for the Group's leaders to care about him, to show him that he was needed, that he mattered. The more I read about Franchot from those who knew him personally, the more I see that he had this dichotomy about his personality. On one hand, he was a confident, private individual who seemed to live and love easily. On the other hand, he felt a great deal of melancholy, of not fitting in, and wishing for more approval and assurance from those in his circle and the public at large. In his book, Clurman devoted a lot of time to the complicated personality of Franchot. Clurman said:

Franchot’s problem, however, was deeper than this. In Boston, when I finally got around to talking to him about his refractoriness, he asked me questions relating to my estimate of him as an actor. By my lights, how good would he become? In answering him I dwelt on his need to stick by what was strongest and most alive in himself. Tears came to his eyes. He confessed later that when I left he had actually sobbed, but he added with a sly grin: 'It didn’t do much good. The feeling didn’t last.'

Franchot loved us out of a great need, a feeling that we were good people who were bringing him just that supply of his sound work and clear faith that despite the advantages of his background, he had missed all his life. But he was very much part of the world that had provided him with these advantages, and he could not, would not, turn his back on it; it was the big world, the substantial world, in which all of us, willy-nilly, were living.

Of course, even in his attachment to the big world there was a contradiction. Franchot’s father, though associated with business, was basically a scientist; and Franchot’s mother was as much of an aristocrat as we ever get in America. Both of them were glad that Franchot preferred the Group to the ordinary commercial thatre. But the entertainment channels of the big world lie in the commercial theatre. We have no national theatre for our “best people.” We have Broadway, and Broadway has Hollywood. The cradle of opinion with theatre folk was not some Mermaid Tavern of intellectuals or artists, but the speakeasies of Fifty-second Street.

There they laughed at Franchot’s devotion to the Group. Franchot probably thought Lilyan Tashman and her crowd who came to see him in Taos lacked taste, but he did not, for all that, feel particularly comfortable at their seeing him in a flop that had been preceded by another, whose most enthusiastic audience sat in the balcony uttering strange cries of approval. Franchot was torn between the Group of tactless people, led chiefly by two exasperated hotheads who offered a way of life that was personally real and perhaps part of the mainstream of the time, and a Broadway plus Hollywood which, though he knew it to be shoddy, actually possessed the only power and glory the world could offer today.

Billy Rose Theatre Division, The New York Public Library.
"Luther Adler, Stella Adler, Franchot Tone, and Dorothy Patten in the stage production Success Story"
The New York Public Library Digital Collections. 1932.
http://digitalcollections.nypl.org/items/281640c0-2409-0133-1322-58d385a7b928

Franchot seemed to behave more strangely during the final summer with the Group. (In all fairness, if you read Wendy Smith's book Real Life Drama, it seems a lot of the members were acting strangely during this time.) Clurman remembered:

Franchot behaved more peculiarly this summer than the last. He was remarkably fine at rehearsals of Success Story, but he was rather antisocial in other ways. He drank stiffly, and carried off some other pretty good bottlemen to drink with him almost every night after rehearsals. When he came back he sometimes took delight in driving his car over the main lawn and crashing all the garden furniture left there during the day. He grew a beard, walked about in a loincloth, went shooting fairly close to the rehearsal grounds. He shied away from most of us, alternating between a distant courtesy that implied an insult, and the manner of a cagey maniac.

With all this, Franchot was always shrewd and observant. He saw what was going on. What was going on was a subtle transformation with the Group as a whole. The very air was fermenting with something that blew from we know not where, but which roused everyone to doubts, questions, wonder, eagerness, dispute. ….

The day came when Strasberg was no longer able to tolerate the disruptive ambiguity of Franchot’s behavior. He decided to have the showdown I had recommended the year before, and both us now confronted Franchot with ultimatum written on our faces. Franchot admitted at once that he had decided to quit the Group, that he was going into pictures. I do not know whether he had already made arrangements or whether our severity at this meeting finally decided him. I am inclined to believe that some of his mischievous conduct arose from an anger with himself, and some was designed to provoke us to such a discussion as we were having. Perhaps, however, he expected a gentler approach, for people like Franchot, always want evidence that they are loved. Strasberg, hurt himself, lashed forth a white-hot 'We don’t care' when Franchot disclosed his intentions. 'I know you don’t care,' Franchot answered quietly but painfully, as if to say: 'That is exactly why I wish to go.'

That day the bad news of Franchot’s resignation was announced to the Group at a special meeting addressed by Strasberg. It was the first resignation of any importance from our organization. The actors were shocked, for they appreciated Franchot’s value. Strasberg’s talk was calculated to affirm the strength and integrity of the Group, which could ill afford to keep a member whose spirit had turned against it. When the day came for Franchot to leave, he told me he was going to try Hollywood. At Tony’s, on West Fifty-second Street, he wept over his drink. …

I find it interesting that, according to Clurman, Franchot was pushed out of the Group for "disruptive ambiguity" much like he was pushed out of The Hill School as a teen for "subtle influence for disorder." And both of these punishments only led to more success for Franchot—leaving The Hill School led to success at Cornell University while leaving the Group led to success in films.

Clurman goes on to address the difficulty the Group had replacing Franchot in their plays. I think it's telling that despite his causing trouble, the other actors always appreciated Franchot's value and that Clurman was able to see that some of his rebelliousness was due to Franchot's schrewd observation of the inner shifting of the group.

Although he'd worked himself into a corner with Strasberg and Clurman, Franchot was definitely torn in leaving the Group for Hollywood and would never be able to definitely choose one over the other for the rest of his career. Actress Ruth Nelson shared in the documentary Broadway Dreamers:

I remember the night, his last Saturday night with Success Story. He came to me to say goodbye. He leaned over, kissed me, and had tears in his eyes. I said, 'Franchot, if that's the way you feel, why are you leaving?' And he said, 'Well, Ruthie, I just have to find out what it's [Hollywood] all about.'

Actors Sandy Meisner and Robert Lewis went with Franchot to Grand Central Station. As they said their goodbyes, an emotional Franchot:

...stood on the steps of the famous Twentieth Century Limited club car, teary-eyed, and as the train started to pull out of the station, he called to us, 'Keep your line.'

Walking across Forty-second Street, I turned to Sandy and observed, 'Did you hear what he said? Here we are, going back to our struggling new Group while he's off to Hollywood to make a movie with Lilyan Tashman and he tells us to keep our line.'

Said Sandy, 'He meant keep it for him.'

I think Clurman's belief that Franchot "expected a gentler approach, for people like Franchot, always want evidence that they are loved" is valid and that his statements about the emotional contrasts in Franchot's character echo those of Gloria Vanderbilt and Clifford Odets and Christopher Plummer.

Franchot, of course, would maintain an association with the Group Theatre, both publicly as an actor and privately as a benefactor. Much more on the post-1933 involvement with the Group coming soon!

Sources:

• Clurman, Harold. The Fervent Years: The Story of the Group Theatre and the Thirties. Knopf, 1950.
• Kramer, Joan, David Heeley, Joanne Woodward, Steve Lawson, Stella Adler, Harold Clurmaan, Cheryl Crawford, and Lee Strasberg. Broadway's Dreamers: The Legacy of the Group Theatre. New York, N.Y: PDR Productions, 1994.
• Lewis, Robert. Slings and Arrows: Theater in My Life. Stein and Day, 1984.
• Smith, Wendy. Real Life Drama: The Group Theatre and America, 1931-1940. Knopf, 1990.

Childhood Photos and Memories

Tiny Franchot Tone. Source: Photoplay, May 1937.

In May 1937, Walter Ramsey published his authorized biography of Franchot within the pages of Photoplay Magazine. The May issue focused on Franchot's childhood through his high school years. The second volume detailed Franchot's collegiate years and entry into an acting career. Franchot provided some of his favorite memories as well as a joyful abundance of childhood photographs. In the lengthy articles, Franchot recalled a happy, close family life, a home in which he was encouraged to have interests and embrace adventures and causes. His father became more successful with each year. Franchot said:

We started out modestly enough but each time Father was promoted, we moved up the street a notch. We approached the Falls as father approached the presidency of his Carborundum Company of America.

I've noticed these changes in addresses, from 328 Buffalo Avenue to 131 Buffalo Avenue, on census reports and always wondered about that, so now it makes sense!

Franchot was the youngest child of Frank and Gertrude. When Franchot was born, older brother Jerry said the baby's squealing was "something terrible. Bet my cat's caught his tail under the pantry door again."

Tiny Franchot in the snow. Source: Photoplay, May 1937.

Franchot's first taste of being a star came at the age of three. Although Jerry had been practicing a Christmas poem for weeks, he forgot the lines when it came time to recite them at a Christmas party. Franchot, having listened to his brother's practice, recited all the lines by heart for the family and friends gathered there.

Tiny Franchot among the trees. Source: Photoplay, May 1937.

Franchot was a thin, small child with a penchant for mischief. After fishing in the family's goldfish bowl, Franchot received a spanking from his mother. Franchot remembered thinking this punishment was ridiculous and irrational. He's successfully caught a goldfish so why all the fuss?

When Franchot's dad traveled to observe factories in Europe, the whole family went along. Franchot lived in Paris, Cannes, and on the Riviera. It was in France that little Franchot saw his first film, a "flickering, green sort of affair" about cowboys, playing in the hotel lobby and viewed by a little boy peeking from the banister.

Jerry Tone (left) and Franchot Tone (right) with their burro in Arizona.
Source: Photoplay, May 1937.

When Frank came down with a serious illness, the family moved to a more restorative climate in Tucson, Arizona. In Arizona, Jerry and Franchot had a burro, pictured above with Franchot on top and Jerry on the stairs. Franchot shared:

We were never off his back for a moment and the neighborhood kids joined in the fun, too...And I recall this vivid reaction—that while it didn't bother me to ride the burro to death in the daytime, I'd cry about him at night because of the awful way he was treated.

Franchot (left) and Jerry (right).
Franchot has this exact same stance
later in so many film scenes!
Source: Photoplay, May 1937.

When living in Arizona didn't appear to make any changes to Frank's health, the family returned to New York—first to Saranac Lake and then to Franchot's birthplace of Niagara Falls. Eventually, Frank regained his health fully.

Franchot swimming as a child. Source: http://lantern.mediahist.org

Franchot loved wandering off and seeking adventure. Except for writing poems, Franchot didn't care for school very much. Here is one of his childhood compositions:

It reads:

I was going to a schol my 

mother siad I cood not go for 

she siad you wood see there 

something that wood make 

you crie and crie until thie 

one eyess wood be out of 

thie one hed which ye 

see in your one vishuns 

in the night.

O human best, O giv me bak
my hart O didst yee now
yee hast my hart? O giv
me bak my hart; I will neverey be
cinde to yee inlest yee giv
me bak my hart.
-By S.P. Franchot Tone.

Upon return to Niagara Falls, Franchot went to a private school with Miss Otis. Still not much for school, Franchot would lead the rest of the kids down Buffalo Avenue to the Shredded Wheat factory where they would join the groups of tourists that were allowed to sample biscuits with fruit and cream. 

Franchot remembered that his first love was named Alice and he kissed her on the porch when tourists goaded him into it one day. He liked movies, banana splits, Charlie Chaplin, Pearl White, eating, fighting with another gang of kids, and being in charge.

Franchot. Source: Photoplay, May 1937.

When Franchot entered The Hill School (in Pottstown, Pennsylvania) in 1919, he worked on the newspaper and managed the football team. His family moved into a nicer house at 131 Buffalo Avenue and when he came home for the holidays, Franchot liked to cruise around Niagara Falls with a pretty girl by his side in the family Buick. Just as he'd fallen for Alice as a kid, teenaged Franchot now set his eyes on a local girl named Caroline. 

As a teen, Franchot contracted scarlet fever and spent eight weeks in the school infirmary before being sent to specialists in Atlantic City and Philadelphia. It was a long, slow time of recuperation and Franchot felt he was missing out on all the fun. He later reflected:

I was alone so much that I really think that period was a big turning point in my life. I started to read good books. I got a chance to rearrange my outlook on life and people and transpose or change many former ideas and ideals. Where before, I had merely accepted—I began to question everything and find new answers. Many of the ideals I formed at that time are still working for me, unchanged.

Then, in December 1923, Franchot received a letter dismissing him from The Hill School for being a "subtle influence for disorder":

I think I shall never forget that phrase: subtle influence for disorder. I didn't know that the real reason had been a senior class rebellion after I had left for the holiday and that the professors had traced the spirit of the rebellion to me. At that moment, as I read those words, it seemed as though the whole four years of my life at The Hill were passing in review on that small piece of white paper. As though it were unwinding on a motion picture screen, I could see myself waging campaigns for more self government among the students (this was the reason)...agitation for more senior class liberties...my head bowed deeply as I stood outside the church on Sunday awaiting the more devout students with whom I would argue religion vs. agnosticism for hours, later...the long summer twilights and the rendezvous with the 'Town Girls' who would wander out to the edge of town to meet the upperclassmen...those nonchalant affairs somehow became terribly important in retrospect...quick mental flashes of my contempt for rules and the secret satisfaction I got out of shooting-a-smoke in the basement of the professors' building on the very morning the treasurer of the school was showing the insurance salesman how little fire hazard there was about such a building...the happy hours I had spent at the editor's desk of the newspaper and the literary desk of the school magazine...

No, there was nothing they could pin on me definitely—I'd seen to it that I was never caught infringing any rule. But there was my notice. I was fired! There it was on cold, white paper and I had to show it to father. Just before my graduation, too. I remember walking into my father's study, handing him the paper, and walking slowly upstairs to my room. 

Franchot at 20. Source: Cornell University Yearbook.

Franchot's older brother Jerry had the idea for Franchot to take this opportunity to test and enter Cornell University early. (Jerry was already a student at Cornell.) Franchot passed all his exams. Soon, Franchot was an active member (and later president) of Cornell's dramatic club. Three students joined Franchot in renting a house that they named "The Little Gray Home in the West." Franchot said:

If that paints a quiet, sentimental picture, it's a false one. If The Little Gray House could talk, it would certainly have tales to tell of Saturday night beer busts, of dishes that were never washed, floors that were left unswept and of a big, blazing fireplace that soon became the focal point of every mentally undigested idea or notion in the clan. We had grand times, great talks and sometimes a heavy beer hang-over. The four of us did almost everything—including joining the Book & Bowl Club and acquring a model T Ford. When a fire broke out in The Little Gray Home, we spent three winter weeks with nothing but a canvas flap over the burned-away front door. And I'll never forget the night my Ford went "nuts" and chased the night watchman all over the campus—well, no one knows the truth of that little incident but the model T and myself.

Franchot at 22. Source: Cornell University Yearbook.

Several years into his Cornell education, Franchot enrolled in a French school and spent weekends with a Yvonne whom he described as a "cute little girl at Zelli's in Montmartre. There, at a small table in a far and dimly-lighted corner, we'd sit over a bottle of wine and she would speak to me in French. I learned a lot from her—about French, I mean—and I grew rather fond of her in the bargain."

You can read more about Franchot's childhood and school years in these earlier posts:

Childhood of FT

Family

~I think this definitely wins Most Adorable Post in this blog's 4.5 year history for all these childhood Franchot pics. What a cutie! I squeaked when I saw the first photo while swiping through the online Photoplay archives. I'm so glad Franchot shared these photos and stories with Walter Ramsey! ~

Sources:

Ramsey, Walter. "The Intimate Life of a Gentleman Rebel." Photoplay. May 1937.

Ramsey, Walter. "The Intimate Life of a Gentleman Rebel." Photoplay. June 1937.

An Ernest Hemingway Hero

I recently came across Time is Ripe: The 1940 Journals of Clifford Odets on my local library's shelves. Franchot is mentioned a handful of times in Odets' daily diary. Unlike the brief "Franchot Tone was also there at the Mocambo" diary entries I stumble across from others in the business at that time, Odets' delves into Franchot's complicated character and Odets' own mixture of interest and frustration with Franchot.

Franchot in Dark Waters, 1944.
Scan from my collection.

On Valentine's Day 1940, Franchot and the rest of the cast from The Fifth Column stopped by to see Odets' matinee showing. Three days later, Franchot joined everyone at a "certain bad restaurant" the actors dined in every night. Odets writes:

He was ill-at-ease, tense, and obviously very lonely or he wouldn't have joined us. All of us tried to put him at ease, but he is poor table company. He wanted to go out whoring and drinking at a speakeasy (liquor after 1:00 a.m.), but was unable to find a companion. Franchot, with all his fame, money, and position, is still afraid of rejection and repudiation. He is blustery and pushing, anxious and uneasy, just like Steve Takis*, but slightly more adult; in short, he is an Ernest Hemingway hero, and that is saying the whole thing.

*Steve Takis was the main character of Odets' play Night Music, which would begin official performances shortly after this diary entry.

On March 16, 1940, Odets writes that he had just finished Stefan Zweig's essay on Casanova the night before and that it "gave me several good ideas, particularly for a play about a modern sort of Casanova to be played by a fellow like Franchot Tone. It is not the great lover element which interests me at all; the element of adventurer, swindler, fake prince among American aristocracy, etc. is where the play lies."

June 8, 1940:

At ten we [Odets, Sid Benson, Geebee] rode uptown, we three, ate a light supper at Schrafft's, saw a newsreel and two films, or part of them. One with Heifetz fiddling...the other an old film, the first F. Tone made when he went to the coast in 1932*. Very instructive. We move so fast in this country that the film, the acting style, the lighting and settings, the clothes—all are already old-fashioned. Franchot was not bored then, not blasé, but fresh and impulsive.

*I assume Odets is referring to Franchot's first film The Wiser Sex which starred Claudette Colbert, Lilyan Tashman, and Melvyn Douglas. This is the only Franchot film I have never seen. It has been preserved by AFI's National Center for Film and Video Preservation at the Library of Congress Motion Picture Conservation Center and it was shown at a film festival several years back. Unfortunately, it's not on physical media or shown on television.

On July 7th, Odets dines at the Stork Club:

There I met Burgess Meredith, Franchot Tone, and John O'Hara, and a brother-in-law together at one table. Meredith was leaving for a Western ranch vacation the next day, so they were celebrating together by getting drunk and more morose each minute. They were in moods of careful (or cautious) self-abnegation, admitting carefully that their lives were useless, that, as Franchot put it while discussing Maxie Baer, the fighter, "the thing is to look good even while you're going down." Franchot, whom I like, still a very unusual talent in the theatre, always brings out in me a certain caginess and over consideration, a real and acute discomfort.

September 29, 1940:

Every time I see Franchot Tone around town, something stirs in me. He is one of that fraternity equally at home here or in the East, drinking, sleeping around, trying to suck the marrow out of a bony friend or two who has no marrow, making a movie, looking for a play—he is too good for this sort of life; that is what touches me about him.

That September entry is the last time that Odets mentions Franchot in his 1940 journal. Odets had known Franchot since the very early days of the Group Theatre and in a later interview would remark on Franchot's talent:

Toward the end of the summer, Franchot Tone, after being quite erratic in his relationship to the company—he was a spoiled boy in many ways—decided to leave the Group, and everyone was sick. He was very gifted. The two most talented young actors I have known in the American theater in my time have been Franchot Tone and Marlon Brando, and I think Franchot was the more talented. And when he lost what he did, I think a very valuable gift was lost to the American theater. He was our leading man. It was like a beehive had lost its queen. 

Source: 
Odets, Clifford. Time Is Ripe: the 1940 Journal of Clifford Odets. Grove, 1989.
Hethmon, Robert. Days with the Group Theatre: An Interview with Clifford Odets. Michigan Quarterly Review. Volume XLI, Issue 2, Spring 2002

An Interesting Independence Day Display

Both Harold Clurman, in his book The Fervent Years, and Robert Lewis, in his book Slings and Arrows, recounted Franchot defiantly celebrating the 4th of July alone while he was a member of the Group Theatre in the early 1930's. Both refer to this display as being attached to Franchot's frustration with the constant "plethora of intellectual talk and classic music", but that reason seems so in contrast with everything else I've learned about him. Franchot was a fond participator in deep discussion and I can't tell you how much I've read about his enthusiasm for classical music, especially Mozart.

But Franchot's time with the Group Theatre seemed to be a complicated mixture of joyful success and feelings of alienation and I have much more to share about that subject in a future post. Perhaps Franchot was just letting off steam or drunk. Perhaps even the most devoted Mozart fan can grow weary of endless playback.  Or, perhaps, Franchot was just very enthusiastic about Independence Day. Here's what Clurman said:

On the Fourth of July, Franchot alone had decided to celebrate by shooting off fireworks. He began rather early in the day. Perhaps this was his childhood custom, perhaps it released his tension, perhaps it was his protest against what seemed to be the indifference of the others to the proprieties of this holiday. Solitary, with darkened brow, he went from place to place over the grounds and set off his firecrackers. Carnovsky and others were fond of music and played recordings of Mozart at every opportunity (except one man who played Caruso records, and Puccini). Carnovsky, no longer able to tolerate Franchot's acoustic vandalism, came out on the porch and cried: "Franchot, for God's sake, I can't stand the noise." Franchot turned and yelled: "And I can't stand your  noise"—referring to Mozart and the rest. He stamped off yelling: "I am an American." 

I have written a little bit about the Group Theatre (click here), but have some more detailed stories of Franchot's time with the Group coming soon.

Happy Independence Day! Set off some fireworks for loin-clothed Franchot the American!

Photo Source: Slings and Arrows, 1996.

Sources: 
Clurman, Harold. The Fervent Years. Harcourt. 1945.
Lewis, Robert. Slings and Arrows: Theatre in My Life. 1996.

Franchot Talks to Picturegoers Magazine

In 1935, Franchot talked to Picturegoers Magazine while on the set of No More Ladies:

My opinion as to why the fifteenth screen test resulted in a film contract is that in the space of those four years in New York the manufacturers of motion picture negatives had improved their product to such an extent that almost anyone could be photographed satisfactorily. In pictures, the first thing they want to do is make a person a hero. You know, broad shoulders, wavy hair and that sort of thing. I have no illusions about myself. I’m not a hero, and I can’t see what I should be made what I’m not. The other day I read a story about myself that made me human. I like that kind of stuff, because it’s sincere.There’s nothing unusual about me—I’m just an ordinary, and, I hope, normal individual.

In the film colony there is little to do besides work. People in pictures don’t relax socially to any extent. Thy work like the devil to finish one picture so they can go into another. I would like actually to work about thirty-six weeks out of the year. The remainder of the time I would rest, study, and travel. Then I would have an opportunity to enjoy life. 

Picture making is not easy—it requires a terrific amount of concentration. It requires more from a person than does working on the stage. To be a success on the screen a person must have a lot of force and drive, like Joan Crawford…I definitely intend to return to the stage, not permanently, however, I would enjoy dividing my time between the stage and screen. 

The Strasbergs Remember Franchot

A friend of Lee and Paula Strasberg, Franchot also created lasting friendships with their children, Susan and John. Both went on to relate the details of Franchot's influence in their books.

Susan Strasberg on Franchot Tone

In her memoir Bittersweet, Susan recalled that her very first memories were being a toddler crawling around famous feet under the dining table. Those guests included Luise Rainier, John Garfield, Tallulah Bankhead, and Franchot Tone (whom she lovingly referred to as "Uncle".) Uncle Franchot was a "tender, aesthetic, scholarly gentleman" who often held young Susan, and Susan found it hard to reconcile his naturally kind, quiet nature with the version he presented one night when he arrived "drunk and bloody from a battle over some woman."

A close friend of the family, Franchot often visited the house to consult with Lee Strasberg—who was at times very tender (embracing Franchot with a heartfelt hug) yet frequently standoffish (blaring music and not making eye contact with Franchot despite his patiently waiting.)

Franchot and Susan read reviews of "The Diary of Anne Frank."
Source: Bittersweet

Franchot was present for many celebrations. When Susan performed in "The Diary of Anne Frank", Franchot (along with Marilyn Monroe and Joshua Logan) was waiting to congratulate her in the dressing room. At a party at Sardi's following her performance, Franchot "raised his glass. 'Little Susan, you have been launched on a long and glittering career. I drink to you.' As they waited for the reviews, everyone ate and drank champagne. Franchot ordered pizza—for inquiring minds, Franchot once told a reporter that his favorite pizza topping was "plain mozzarella."

Franchot with Burton, Fonda, and Ustinov at Susan's surprise party.
Source: scan from my collection

Franchot was also on hand for Susan's surprise 20th birthday party. The party was inside a dark theater and also present were Henry Fonda, Peter Ustinov, Laurence Olivier, Lena Horne, Julie Harris, Tony Perkins, and Richard Burton (whom Susan was dating at the time.) In her book, Susan also recalls attending Franchot's own small parties hosted at Don the Beachcomber's, and counts him as a person she "cared about and respected" when she saw him at a 1960's New Year's Eve party.

Franchot and Susan in rehearsal for The Time of Your Life, 1958.
Source: scan from my collection

Franchot and Susan had the pleasure to act together on several projects. They both appeared in a 1956 television production of J.M. Barrie's play "Dear Brutus" on Omnibus, an educational television program that aired on CBS. In 1958, they traveled—and actually financed the entire trip on their own dime after funding fell through— to the Brussels World's Fair to perform "The Time of Your Life." You can read more about that production here. In 1959, they toured together for the play "Caesar and Cleopatra." Getty Images has a great photo of them in costume for that production, which you can view here.

Franchot and Susan in a publicity photo for Caesar and Cleopatra in 1959.
Source: scan from my collection.

When Franchot realized Susan was struggling with her role as Camille in Franco Zeffirelli's "The Lady of the Camellias" in 1963, he came to her aid. "He described his mother, who had died of tuberculosis, Camille's disease, detailing for me her flushes, her fevers, and high gaiety followed by her complete collapses..."

John Strasberg on Franchot Tone

Susan's brother John also devoted space to Franchot in his own memoir. He wrote:

I don't remember feeling any peace or harmony from the moment we moved back to New York in 1947 until I began spending summers in Canada with Franchot Tone when I was twelve. We hunted and fished, camping in Quebec's wilderness country.

Franchot's wealthy industrialist family owned three houses that sat on a ridge of land between two lakes that were part of the Gatineau Fish and Game Club, near Gracefield, Quebec. We portaged deep into land that he owned, smearing honey under the canoes of poachers so that the bears would destroy them. Franchot became one of my heroes, once I realized that heroes could be human...Normally quiet and reflective, he could be very temperamental. He was a movie star, but to me, above all, he was a Renaissance man. He thought about more than just the theater. He gave me books he loved, like the writings of the Comte de Rochechouart and Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass, and a Marlin .22 lever action rifle, the gift of which startled my parents and endeared Franchot to me even more.

He exposed me to a world that I loved and felt at home in, and that my parents knew nothing about. He loved women, smoked two packs of unfiltered Camel cigarettes a day, and drank double vodkas. So did I, but some years later. He was definitely more of what I wanted to be than was my own father, and I often wonder what kind of father he was to his own children. Franchot's humanity touched me deeply. It was due in part to his influence that I learned to define success on my own terms. Above all, he taught me that work is part of one's natural respect and love of human life, but it is not a way to ignore or dominate it.

Sources: 

• Roach, Janet. "Perfectionist Franchot Tone 'Sacrifices' Own Shirt for Play." The Day. New London, Connecticut. August 5, 1966. Page 12. 
• Strasberg, John. Accidentally on Purpose: Reflections on Life, Acting, and the Nine Natural Laws of Creativity. New York: Applause, 1996. Print. 8-9.
• Strasberg, Susan. Bittersweet. New York:, Putnam, 1980. Print.

"Pandemonium" at 470 Layton Drive

When I was browsing fan magazine articles about Franchot and Carole Landis' relationship earlier this year, I stumbled upon this article about Franchot living at the Layton Drive address with photographs! This is the home listed on Franchot's World War II draft card (here) that I did a brief post on last year (here.) When Bubbles Schinasi and actor Wayne Morris called it quits leaving their home vacant and open to tenants, Franchot and his pal Burgess Meredith ("as gay a brace of bachelors as ever haunted the sleep of the countless impressionable co-eds throughout our wonderful democracy") moved in. Hollywood was surprised that two bachelors would take on a large, elegant property. Jimmy Durante even asked, "Those guys and that house—what have they got in common?"

How did they end up living in such style? Burgess settled into the extra room at Jimmy Stewart's Santa Monica house when he arrived in Hollywood for film work. Soon, photographer John Swope became Jimmy and Burgess' housemate as well. All men enjoying and being popular with the ladies, the house grew crowded fast. Buzz (as Burgess was known to friends) found a beach house in need of repairs to reside in, but Jimmy and John didn't want to break up the gang. It was decided that the beach house would just be for Buzz to sleep in, but the guys would all hang out at Jimmy's house during waking hours.

Then, Franchot arrived from New York and needed a place to stay. Franchot and Buzz were roommates in New York shortly after Franchot's divorce from Joan Crawford and remained lifelong friends. Both Franchot and Buzz were acting in plays at the time and found they shared equal passion for acting and being fixtures at the hottest nightspots. Buzz and Franchot decided to lease the Morrises' chateau, now nicknamed Pandemonium. Their neighbors included Nelson Eddy, Anna Sten, and Frank Capra. Franchot felt the place was perfect for his return to Hollywood as a bachelor.

Franchot and Buzz threw a cocktail party after getting settled in and locating domestic servants. In the article, the descriptions of the rooms are pretty exaggerated in comparison to the photographs. Yes, they are beautiful, large nice rooms, but Screenland refers to their living room as "Dali-esque." Their living room was described as a "surrealistic masterpiece...The walls were a pale blue set off by a gray carpet. Two disconsolate love seats done in yellow leather hugged the fireplace, over which a mural by Lee Blair (a South American cockfight framed in blue mirror) looked down..."

The living room.

Buzz's room was decorated in red and white walls ("calculated to woo sleep"), a sea green carpeted floor, and "flaming" draperies.

The bedroom of Burgess Meredith.

Franchot shared his room with a Great Dane named Bad Boy (pictured with Buzz and Franchot in the top photo), who used the former outdoor tennis court as his play area. Franchot's room would "stand up as the most sexy and glamorous bedroom in Hollywood...it houses the biggest bed in California—a little number measuring exactly ten feet long, ensconced on a pale grey rug and sporting a half-canopy of coral fish net...the walls are pale blue...the lights are soft and harem-like."

The bedroom of Franchot Tone.

Burgess would recall in his biography and he and Franchot "shared many a bottle and many a girl, both in New York and Hollywood, in our bachelor days. There were also some quiet times in Canada at his hunting lodge...But he enjoyed life to the end, loving and being loved by an army of fans and friends..."

Sources:
Franchey, John R. Hollywood's Gayest Bachelors! Screenland. May 1941. p. 28-29, 88. 
Meredith, Burgess. So Far, so Good: A Memoir. Boston: Little, Brown, 1994. 72-76.