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BINNIE BARNES
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A great British actress who stayed in America
of TheColumnists.com
Back in 1973, I wound up sitting next to Bob Foster, one of my best friends among the television columnists invited to dinner by the Columbia Pictures Television division. Bob pointed to the place card in front of the chair next to me, which read: "Mrs. Frankovich."
"That would be Binnie Barnes," he said. "I always wanted to meet her."
So did I. As a Canadian who grew up watching many English and American films that starrred Binnie Barnes, I certainly knew who she was, even if the mostly American TV press group had never heard of her. Bob, who was stationed in England during World War II and had a British wife, may have been the only other TV columnist in the room who remembered her.
A few minutes later the Frankovichs arrived.
He was the producer of what turned out to be the short-lived
TV version of the hit movie "Bob and Carol and Ted and Alice."
Our interest in that project was pretty limited, so it was fortunate
that "Mrs. Frankovich" (Binnie Barnes) was there to
regale us for the rest of the evening with tales from her glorious
movie past.
Two years later, I invited Binnie Barnes to lunch while I was
in the Los Angeles area and we soon became good friends. Our
friendship continued with several long telephone calls that eventually
led to a 1985 invitation from her to meet her at the legendary
Friars Club for another lunch that lasted hours.
Here are some highlights from our many conversations:
JIM BAWDEN: I have this 1938 biography
of you and I'm wondering how accurate it is.
BINNIE BARNES: Let me look. Well, my real name is indeed Gitell
Enoyce Barnes. But nobody ever called me that and I later switched
to Gertrude. When I started on stage it became Binnie. My father
was a London bobby. We were Jewish and I’m a true Cockney,
born within the sound of Bow’s Bells. Yes, indeed, I was
a milkmaid, nurse, chorus girl and then partner to Tex McLeod,
who taught me the business on a long tour of South Africa. I
was known as Texas Binnie Barnes by then.
Back in London I did 26 comedy shorts with Stanley Lupino, Ida’s
dad. I first acted on stage in 1929 opposite Charles Laughton
in a play called "Silver Tassie," directed by Raymond
Massey, and I made my first feature picture in 1931 called "A
Night In Montmarte."
But my birthdate is wrong. It says 1908. But it’s really 1905.
BAWDEN: How did you get into Noel Coward's
stage play "Cavalcade" in 1931?
BARNES: Noel Coward told me he starting writing it when doing
"Private Lives" on Broadway. It has four characters
and he wanted to go the other way with a mass spectacle. The
way he saw it, the British Empire was suffering badly during
the Depression and he wanted a way of showing all that had been
achieved. He said it could only be done at the Drury Lane theater,
which has 3,000 seats and six hydraulic lifts for the mass of
scenery changes. The cast was over 400 –largest ever for
a British play. Mary Clare and Edward Sinclair were the parents
in the film and support came from Johnny Mills, Moya Nugent,
Una O’Connor, Arthur Macrae and me. We opened in October
1931 and played until September, 1932. On election night I remember
King George V and Queen Mary were in the Royal Box. But for all
its success it made little profit (because) it was so expensive
to mount.
I auditioned for "Noellie" as a lark. He tapped me
on the shoulder and simply said “You’ll do!” Johnny
Mills was my leading man, a head shorter than me but he’d
told Noel he was still growing and got the part. But at age 25
he was hardly going to grow so Noel staged our love scene with
me standing and him seated and that got a huge laugh. My big
number was "Twentieth Century Blues" which brought
the house down every night. On the official opening I looked
through the curtain, saw the masses of people and swooned. Noel
kicked my butt to get me out there but once out I really did
enjoy myself. Standing ovations were given for the scenes of
the Boer War, the funeral of Queen Victoria and the sinking of
the Titanic. And then there was mass weeping for the Victory
Day celebrations. People were literally dancing in the aisles
by the ending. It was some night.
BAWDEN: Did that lead to your first big film, "The Private
Life Of Henry VIII" (1933)?
BARNES: Well, I think I was on stage in "Cavalcade"
by night and by day I’d take the subway out to Elstree studios
where we made "Henry VIII." How I did all that I can’t
imagine except I was young and full of energy. Salary was minimal.
This was designed by Alexander Korda as the first in a series
of personal movie biographies. And he got the right actor for
it: Charles Laughton, who simply became the Merrie Monarch. One
day when Wendy Barrie, who played Jane Seymour, was acting up
he reached over and bit her arm. Completely in character!
There simply was no money for a lavish production. Alex got permission
and shot scenes at Hampton Court, Henry’s residence outside
London. The studio sets were jerry-built. If one stepped a foot
away, the set ended. Camerawork covered up a lot. It had quite
the cast of up-and-comers: Robert Donat played my lover, Thomas
Culpepper, I was Katherine Howard, who got beheaded, Charles’s
real-life wife, Elsa Lanchester, was Anne of Cleves, who escaped
with her head. Henry’s longest marriage–his first–to
Katherine of Aragon was dismissed with a title card! Impudence
like that made it wildly popular but it was all Charles’
show. Merle Oberon was given special attention as Anne Boleyn
because Alex was falling for her. When I first met her she was
Miles Mander’s mistress, then she switched to Leslie Howard.
BAWDEN: Then you made "The Private Life of Don Juan"
the very next year.
BARNES: A dreadful bomb. Alex never had
another real hit with his biographies. Elisabeth Bergner made
"Catherine the Great" (1934) for his company, but her
husband, Paul Czinner, directed it and I guess it made some dough.
Charles (Laughton) came back as "Rembrandt" (1937),
but nobody wanted to see it. "Don Juan" was Doug Fairbanks
Sr.’s last picture. The poor man was in bad physical shape
by then. This one was intended to parody the legend but mentally
Doug was not up for it. He was rightly protective of his image.
Sound had ruined him. Oh, he had a fairish voice but his acting
style was of another generation. I was a Spanish maid named Rosita!
Me with my Cockney ways! Merle (Oberon) was a dancer and the
other ladies included Diana Napier, Benita Hume (who married
Ronnie Colman later on) and Gina Malo. I do remember Gibson Gowland,
who starred in "Greed," had a part in it. Doug insisted
he be cast. I think Doug basically played himself–sad at
getting older, fllled with reminiscences. Audiences simply did
not want to see that sort of thing from a great idol, however
old he may be. And Doug after all was only 51 by then. We were
rehearsing one bit and there were tears in his eyes. ”It’s
all gone,” he whispered to me. “Fame never lasts…I
should know.”
BAWDEN: What did you think of your first American movie, "There’s
Always Tomorrow?"
BARNES: Dull. It was based on an Ursula Parrott novel and starred
Frank Morgan, who later played the Wizard Of Oz. Universal remade
it in 1956 with Barbara Stanwyck and Fred MacMurray. I was the
sincere secretary in love with my boss, who feels neglected by
his family. I think it got OK reviews but there were no stars
and nobody saw it and it came and went quickly.
Universal then rushed me into "Diamond Jim" (1935) starring Edward Arnold, who’d actually met the real (Diamon Jim) way back and copied the mannerisms. Look, it’s a good picture. Preston Sturges wrote the screenplay. Jean Arthur was in it. So was Cesar Romero. I was Lillian Russell. I didn’t have the girth, but I supplied the gaiety and the picture did fair business but not what Universal needed as it lurched to bankruptcy.
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big bidget production "Diamond Jim." |
BAWDEN: I’ve never seen your next
picture, "Sutter’s Gold" (1936).
BARNES: Few people have. It was a last ditch chance by Junior
Laemmele (studio boss Carl Laemmele Jr.) to save his dad’s
studio. They brought in silent film director James Cruze, who
only made flops in the talkie era. His direction was all over
the place. It was about the Gold Rush in California in 1856.
It cost $2 million to make with all those crowd scenes whereas
a Universal picture was supposed to come in at $100,000 to $200,000.
Remember the studio owned no theaters like the others and depended
on volume business. When I saw it in a screening room all pulled
together I sank in my seat. Some scenes were terribly acted.
I must take some of the blame. But this picture ruined the Laemmeles
at Universal. The studio went up for sale.
BAWDEN: You were saved by MGM.
BARNES: Louis B. Mayer took a shine to me. Told me I’d never
do leads at Metro but had a future as featured star. He tried
me out in a Bill Powell spy caper. "Rendezvous," set
in World War I and I clicked. I was never under contract to MGM.
Mayer said it was cheaper to hire me picture by picture. He immediately
borrowed me again for "Small Town Girl" opposite Janet
Gaynor and a newcomer called Spangler Arlington Brugh. Yeah,
Bob Taylor. Had simian features the first time I spotted him.
Eyebrows grew together. They got plucked. A new hairline gave
him more of a forehead and a widow’s peak. Capped teeth
produced a minor miracle and he became the young juvenile lead.
BAWDEN: Didn’t Universal keep trying to ditch you?
BARNES: Oh, yes! The new regime rounded up everyone they were
trying to destroy and that included Ray Milland, the director
Henry Koster, producer Joe Pasternak, who didn’t have an
office but had to work out on the lawn. They had this 18-year-old
Deanna Durbin snatched away from MGM and the storyline was about
me as an adventuress trying to snag her innocent daddy away from
her mommy. It was sickening. Finally Koster said to burlesque
the material because dramatically it didn’t work. We got
as wacky as we could manage. Alice Brady was my dotty mother.
Mischa Auer was a bogus count. Look, it was made cheaply for
teenaged girls. It was sweet, it was silly. I was a baddie and
the girls in the audience would boo when I came on. Deanna had
this glorious voice and a typical teenager’s lumpy body.
Released as "Three Smart Girls," it saved Universal
studios. And it saved my career. Made me red hot and Ray (Milland)
wound up with a top contract at Paramount.
BAWDEN: You finished your Korda contract with "The Divorce
Of Lady X" (1938)?
BARNES: Another of Alex’s attempts to turn Merlie (Oberon)
into a scatterbrained comedienne. Audiences just didn’t
take to it. Larry Olivier was very standoffish with me, I wasn’t
of the legitimate stage, you see. I found him annoying as the
solicitor. Or maybe I was just upset that I’d starred in
the original film ("Counsel’s Opinion" in 1932)
and now I was in support and Merle had my old role. Now Ralph
Richardson, who played my husband, was entirely different. Unlike
Larry-O he was free of pretense and loved making movies. The
film cost a packet because it was in Technicolor but the real
reason it did poorly was that certain lack of chemistry. Larry
and Merle simply didn’t click. They went on to make "Wuthering
Heights" and their mutual dislike is very plain for all
to see.
BAWDEN: How do you remember "Holiday" (1938) with Cary
Grant and Kate Hepburn?
BARNES: I don’t. I spent about five
days on that set and was in two scenes with the wonderful waspy
Henry Daniel as my husband. It was a busy year for me. I made
eight movies and was at one point doing two at the same time.
Spent many months on "Marco Polo" and then five days
sipping tea and watching Great Kate act up. She was always very
bossy. Never saw the film until finally in my mind’s eye
I thought it had been "The Philadelphia Story." After
all, it was the same director, same stars, same upper class story.
So I sat up one night when we were still in London to watch "Philadelphia
Story" one night on the telly--only I wasn’t in it
and neither was Henry (Daniel). He was still living, so I phoned
him up and complained we’d been cut out and he snapped,
“Silly goose, we were in 'Holiday.'” So I then
watched "Holiday" when it came on telly and loved it
and adored my extended bit.
BAWDEN: How did you fit in so many movies in one year?
BARNES: Two of them may have been made at the tail end of 1937.
I only had two released pictures that year. "The Adventures
of Marco Polo" (1938). I don’t know when it started
actually. I was paid by the week and collected my biggest ever
salary. Sam Goldwyn saw it as a comedic take on all those advenure
movies like "Beau Geste." So he had Gary Cooper as
Polo but that only confused moviegoers. Coop after all is just
Coop. (Director) Archie Mayo started it and after months of shooting
ran into trouble so John Cromwell took over and reshot buckets
of scenes. I remember John Ford was making "The Hurricane"
around then and wandered over and shot for a few days. Bob Sherwood
did the original story and we got rewrites every day. One day
we were serious, the next day Sam shouted “Make yourselves
laugh!” Gary was beside himself. The female lead was
Sigrid Gurie, who was Goldwyn’s next folly, as icy a person
as Sam’s last big new star, Anna Sten. I remember George
Barbier waddling around as Kublai Khan, moaning about the heavy
costumes he was forced to wear. Then a decade later I see it
revived at the Westwood as “Starring Gary Cooper and Lana
Turner!:” And she only has a bit! She told me they shaved
off her eyebrows and they never ever grew back.
BAWDEN: "Always Goodbye" (1938) was the only time you
worked with Barbara Stanwyck?
BARNES: In those days she was young and pretty–and in love.
And she could play all kinds of parts, too. "Always Goodbye"
was envisaged by Fox as a programmer. I think Barbara got a lot
out of the material. She suffered but there was always that glimmer
in her eye. Later on she got so hard and tough she was hard to
know by then–all business after Bob (Taylor) left her for
a younger woman. It was a sort of follow up to "Stella Dallas."
But Barbara’s gaiety lifted us up. She kept teasing Herbert
Marshall, who was an old fuddy duddy. So was Ian Hunter for that
matter.
BAWDEN: You are a scream in "The Three Musketeers"
(1939).
BARNES: One of my favorite pictures. Nobody can screw up the
delicious character of evil Milady De Winter. Half the picture
was serious: Don Ameche couldn’t play comedy. But when The
Ritz Brothers appear, it’s look out time. Allan Dwan directed
and it was a huge box office hit. You know those brothers really
adored each other unlike Abbott and Costello. And, yes, I could
always tell them apart. Harry was always my favorite. It started
out as a straight musical but the songs stank so Allan called
us together and said to parody the material. In one scene I’ve
got a key the brothers want so they turn me upside down until
it plops out of my bosom. Several takes were needed but I loved
it. I told them to shake harder and harder and the scene always
gets the biggest laugh of the movie.
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HEATHER ANGEL in the 1936 film "Last of the Mochicans." |
BAWDEN: Describe life in Hollywood in the so-called “Golden Age”.
BARNES: It was drudgery. Up at 6 a.m. to get to the studios and be in full makeup by 9. Because of my background I had become an ace card player and I was invited into the big card games played at MGM on a Saturday night. All the big boys were there: Thau, Gable, Tracy, Mayer sometimes. I was the only woman permitted and I rarely lost. They even set up a cot for me in one of the dressing rooms for a little snooze because we played until dawn. There was very little glamour about any of it.
When I married Mike (Frankovich) in 1940, Louella Parsons reported that this nice little Catholic girl is marrying that awful Jew Frank Mikovich. She got his name backwards and I was the Jew! He subsequently banned her from the sets of all his pictures.
When I converted to Catholicism Loretta Young became my mentor, my godmother. I still call her “ma”. The church we all attend is called–by Roz Russell--Our Lady of the Cadillacs. It’s not a gloomy religion, it’s given me strength to go on.
BAWDEN: For an English girl you really
fit into westerns.
BARNES: I don’t know. Is "Last Of The Mohicans"
(1936) considered a Western or an Eastern? It’s on TV all
the time. And I’m told is a very accurate version. Randy
Scott was wonderful in the lead and Heather Angel and I were
sisters. She was another girl friend Leslie Howard had ditched.
When I made my film with him (1934’s "The Lady Is Willing”)
I said, “Leslie, keep your distance I know all about
you.” And he did!
I guess "Sutter’s Gold" was a western, too. But
I really liked "Frontier Marshall," which was the Wyatt
Earp-Doc Holliday story. We had the excellent Allan Dwan as our
director and he squeezed a lot of atmosphere out of a production
that hadn’t the biggest budget. Randy was Wyatt and very
good but Cesar Romero really made a mark as Doc, who is slowly
expiring from consumption. I was the dance hall girl, Jerry,
and got to perform numbers as I’d once done in the music
halls. Cranky Jack Ford remade it as "My Darling Clementine."
Of course Dwan’s was a remake of a 1933 George O’Brien
flick. To disguise the studio sets Allan shot almost everything
at dark. It has this spooky quality. And let’s face it,
I wasn’t the beauty Linda Darnell was. (Darnell played her
role in the Ford remake.) But Linda never could act. Well, she
never had to.
BAWDEN: "Til We Meet Again" (1940) is a real weeper.
BARNES: Tell me about it. Warners offered it first to Bette Davis
and she turned it down, saying she’d already died in "Dark
Victory"! Pat O’Brien was winding up his Warners career
with this one so they gave him under title billing. He told me
in the previous movie he’d been above George Brent, the
leading man. Geraldine Fitzgerald was the understanding friend
just as she’d been in "Dark Victory." A melange
to be sure. I was a fake countess and I made sure I looked
lovely while I stood around absorbing the plot. On the first
day Merlie (Oberon) comes by and says, “Lovely to see
you, Binnie”. And I shout “Likewise Queenie!"
(That was her real name.) And she never talked to me again on
set. At the preview screening the doctor tells Merle she has
angina pectoris and nothing can be done and a guy in the
audience shouts, “Try nitroglycerine –it’s
been around for 60 years!” A lady friend of mine recently
saw it on TV and said she loved it as much as "One Way Passage."
In fact, it’s a remake! You see it was a huge hit at the
time. The Nazis had just invaded Belgium, France. People needed
relief from the woes of the real world.
BAWDEN: Jack Benny asked for you several times.
BARNES: Getting a laugh, it’s all in the timing. Jack said
I had a fake Mayfair accent that he loved. I was able to bat
lines with him in such a way that he came out on top but I always
got a laugh or two. He used me on his radio show and again in
a film he co-financed called "It's in The Bag" (1945)
with his great friend Fred Allen. Robert Benchley was also in
that one and William Bendix. My sides hurt at night from all
that chuckling. I wish more of that came across on screen. We
were trying so hard to entertain each other we forgot about the
audience. I was a dizzy dame named Eve Floggle and at one point
when asked where I keep my old diamonds I say I throw all the
old ones out every year because they get so very shabby. Young
people see it on TV and don’t get it because there are all
these references to Jack's and Fred’s radio shows.
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JEANNETTE MACDONALD| in "I MARRIED AN ANGEL" in 1942. |
BAWDEN: You were in the last picture of Jeanette MacDonald and Nelson Eddy?
BARNES: "I Married An Angel" (1942). It had originally been written directly for the movies and was going to be their first film together. Then the censor balked and it went to Broadway instead. Jeanette said to me, “It will be our greatest triumph!” But it was a huge bomb with wartime audiences. Both stars were very plump by then and simply too old to play cute anymore. Anita Loos did the screenplay, the sets are lavish, we were months working on it. It just didn’t jell. People cringed at the overly ripe treatment. A friend saw it on TV and told me she now knows what kitsch means. I did another operetta around that time called "New Wine" which was quickly made. And of course the critics could not resist using the phrase “new wine in old bottles”.
BAWDEN: You once told me your favorite studio was Republic! Why?
BARNES: Because they treated me right royally. Old Herbert Yates (studio boss) was crazy for talent and he ran this little studio out in the valley. There were five or six small soundstages and a tiny back lot. But it was a real family. Everything was spotless, the stages, the dressing rooms. The pace was surprisingly leisurely. Yates only had John Wayne and Roy Rogers as big box office stars. I went there after I got married and took some time off. Then my husband (Mike Frankovich) went off to war and I had to work and I was no longer in demand. So I was Big John’s leading lady in "In Old California" (1942) and loved it. And I loved him. When I was at a London party once I was asked who was the best actor I’d ever worked with. Was it Olivier or Richardson. “Neither,” said I. “It’s John Wayne.” But he can’t do Shakespeare said one lady. “Ah,” I replied. “But have Larry-O or Ralph ever been able to ride the range?”
BAWDEN: I get these pictures mixed up: "Up In Mabel’s Room" (1944) and "Getting Gertie’s Garter" (1946).
BARNES: So do I. Made them one after another for that cagey producer Edward Small. Dennis O’Keefe was in both,as was I. Boy, did the censors have a field day with these two. Gave us all kinds of publicity. The production was shoestring and the films ran for years afterwards whenever there was a hole in the double bill schedules of theaters. Allan Dwan did both of them and asked me to come over and have some fun.
BAWDEN: You also did an Abbott and Costello film which is considered their best.
BARNES: "The Time of Their Lives" (1946). Not really their kind of thing. It had an involving story. There was a lot of friction there. They really didn’t play as a team at all. I remember I had one great line. I open the door, look to Gale Sondergaard and say “Didn’t I see you in 'Rebecca'?” The audience roared during the preview I attended. Part of it was set in Revolutionary times and it was a success but not as big box office as their others. When Bud slapped Lou on the face repeatedly during many takes I could see he really hated his partner. And that hatred was reciprocated.
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piratical gear in "THE SPANISH MAIN." (1945) |
BAWDEN: Those Hollywood films set in Britain but made on the backlot didn’t work as well in the Forties.
BARNES: Well, "The Man from Down Under" (1943) was actually set in Australia. Charles (Laughton) asked me to do it. But even he knew it was a miserable little comedy. He sort of gave up and gives one of his few bad performances. Then came "The Hour Before Dawn" (1944), which had Veronica Lake as a Nazi spy seducing pacifist Franchot Tone at his British stately mansion. I was an actress who had married into the nobility. It was from a Somerset Maugham novel he’d written expressly for the U.S. market. The old bird was on set and I asked him why he forbade its publication in Britain and he said, “Because, my dear, it is pure unadulterated shit.” This failure really destroyed the momentum of Veronica’s Paramount career. She never was the same. And she wasn’t the nicest of girls to work with anyway.
Two more were "My Own True Love Came Back" (1947) with Phyllis Calvert and "If Winter Comes" (1947) with Deborah Kerr. Both were huge bombs, legendary stinkers.
BAWDEN: You soldiered on.
BARNES: Sort of. We adopted three little kids and I was a proud
mummy. Hated working by then. Did just a bit of live TV. Then
I was seduced into going to Broadway with David Niven as replacements
for Gloria Swanson and Jose Ferrer in their successful revival
of "Twentieth Century." We got among the worst notices
ever. David had no stage training and I wasn’t well prepared
at all. It closed quickly and I wanted to run and hide. It was
time to call it quits, I told myself, and that’s exactly
what I did. For almost 13 years I was a stay-at-home mum. And
let’s face it, there were no decent offers.
BAWDEN: Why the return in 1966 in "The Trouble With Angels"?
BARNES: Once when we were in L.A. and I was regaling friends
with stories about arranging my daughter’s wedding, Donna
Reed was in the room and had the tales wrapped into a TV episode
of her show. That was 1963 and I did another episode with Donna
in 1966, the year I made "The Trouble With Angels."
During my “retirement” I’d thrived as Mike’s
trouble shooter and I even produced one film on my own–"Thunderstorm"
with Carlos Thompson and Linda Christian. So on "Angels,"
I reluctantly agreed to be on the set because of anticipated
problems. After all, we had a school full of naughty teenaged
girls. The budget was tight and Roz Russell was suspicious of
our director, Ida Lupino, who was known to take a nip or two
on set. Hayley Mills was just plain obnoxious. Maybe she was
a Method actress. But we got through with it after I followed
Ida out to lunch one day and caught her tossing back margaritas
with the cameraman across the street from Columbia. I told her
she risked dismissal if that ever happened again and she came
through on time and on budget. And it was a hugely profitable
success.
Yes, there was a sequel–1968’s "Where Angels Go,
Trouble Follows." Hayley refused to return. She wanted to
be a great dramatic star, she said. And that was the end of her
stardom. Stella Stevens replaced her, I’m not sure that
was great casting. And we added such old pros as Robert Taylor,
Van Johnson and Milton Berle. James Neilson was our harassed
director. I’m guessing we really needed Ida’s experienced
hand. it didn’t replicate the earlier film’s huge success.
Sequels rarely do. But it was Roz’s last hit movie and Bob
Taylor’s last ever film. He died right after it. One day
he came over to me at the lunch wagon and asked me if I remembered
"Small Town Girl" and he just seemed sad, so sad.
BAWDEN: So how did you get to make your last film, "40 Carats"
(1973)?
BARNES: Did it as a favor to Mike. He’d seen the Broadway
smash with Julie Harris and paid big bucks to film it. His ideal
lead was Audrey Hepburn. But Audrey hadn’t made a film for
seven years. She was 47 by then and was skittish. She still was
enjoying her second marriage and finally she demanded that the
whole thing be made in Rome so she could be near her second husband.
Mike searched and searched for a glamorous substitute. Joanne
Woodward? Too serious! Ann Bancroft? Even more serious! Finally
he latched onto Liv Ulmann, who very definitely did not have
that light touch. With the filming deadline nearing, he made
what I thought was a catastrophic casting mistake. Liv was so
very nervous during the entire shoot. Very unsure of herself.
There was no chemistry with Edward Albert, who played the young
suitor. Liv was playing a 40-year-old and that would have made
her mother how old? Sixty-five to 70? Roz Russell said no. Loretta
Young was outraged we’d even ask. Finally, Mike turns to
me and said, “You’ll have to do it!” And
I never had such a ball. Got to dance with Gene Kelly. Wore stunning
gowns, got in some ace wise cracks just like the old days.
Mike asked me to play Flo Ziegfeld’s mom in his 1978 TV
movie biography "Ziegfeld," but I felt I’d had
it. Best to get on with life. So these days I run up and down
the sand dunes at Malibu. There are grand kids to look after.
The business is ever changing and I don’t want to change.
I vowed when I got here in 1934 I’d stay forever and it
has happened. I want to go on and on until the Good Lord calls
me home.
(Binnie Barnes died in 1998 at age 93.)
©2011 by Jim Bawden. This column first posted March 28, 2011
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