In March 1981 I was at the CBS Studio Center on Radford Avenue in Studio City watching two legendary former child stars working together again. Mickey Rooney and Jackie Cooper had co-starred with Freddie Bartholomew in the 1936 comedy-drama ‘The Devil is a Sissy’.
Now, Rooney, who was born on this day in 1920, was starring in a tearjerker TV-movie titled ‘Leave ‘em Laughing’. He played a real-life clown named Jack Thum who with his wife Shirlee (played by Anne Jackson) cared for many abandoned children in a Chicago tenement even as he is diagnosed with terminal cancer. Jackie Cooper was the director.
Rooney had gone from a series of Andy Hardy pictures in the Thirties and Forties and ‘National Velvet’ opposite Elizabeth Taylor in 1944 to a long acting career on TV and in films such as ‘Baby Face Nelson’, ‘Operation Mad Ball’ and (notoriously) ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s.’ Cooper went from being one of the Little Rascals in the 1930s ‘Our Gang’ pictures to co-starring with Wallace Beery in ‘The Champ’ in 1931 to acting in many more TV shows and films including three Superman movies with Christopher Reeves playing newspaper editor Perry White. He had a distinguised career in the U.S. Navy during World War II and remained with the Naval Reserve attaining the rank of Captain. He also became a respected director on shows including ‘The Rockford Files’, ‘Magnum P.I.’, ‘M*A*S*H’ and ‘Cagney & Lacey’.
CBS Studio Center had been built in the silent era by producer-director Mack Sennett who made pictures starring the Keystone Cops, Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton and W.C. Fields. Later, it was owned by Republic Studios, which made dozens of westerns starring Roy Rogers, Gene Autry and John Wayne. The head of Republic was a man named Herbert J. Yates who tried to turn a former ice-skater from Czechoslovakia named Vera Hruba Ralston into a dramatic movie star.
Now, on a soundstage on the open facade of a tall Chicago tenement building, Rooney stood and waited in his clown outfit while the crew set up another shot and Cooper oversaw where the cameras should be placed. Rooney knew there was a reporter on the set and he spoke loudly enough over the general hubbub for everyone to hear as he regaled us all with uproarious and unprintable tales about Yates, Ralston and Wayne. As soon as the crew were ready, an AD called out ‘Stand by’. Cooper checked with his director of photography, veteran Howard Schwartz, as Rooney continued talking. The instant the director cried out ‘Action’, Rooney went straight into character as the clown dying of cancer. Once Cooper yelled ‘Cut!’ the actor resumed his salacious gossip.
Cooper made sure I could stay close to him while I was there and often looked around to say, ‘Where’s my guy? Where’s Ray’ if I’d wandered off. He also encouraged me to talk to DP Schwartz and art director Ned Parsons. When shooting broke for lunch, I joined Mickey Rooney in his trailer. I’d seen the diminutive performer on talk shows so I knew how garrulous he could be but I was surprised when he uttered a series of clichés as if he’d just made them up. ‘You see, Ray,’ he said, gripping my knee, ‘nothing succeeds like success.’
After the day’s shooting was finished, I went with Rooney to Burbank where he was to be a guest on ‘The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson’. I left him on the phone in the limousine to make my way into the studio to sit in the audience. Carson said Rooney would be the first guest but after the comic finished his monologue and took his seat, Rooney was a no-show. Carson appeared puzzled and told his audience that it appeared the star had been delayed. Rooney made it to the couch just in time as the third guest and proceeded to have everyone in stitches. Only I knew why he was late. When I left him in the limo, he was on the phone to his bookie.
