James Cagney on "Yankee Doodle Dandy"

This summer the Filmoteca in Barcelona is offering a wonderful retrospective of Hollywood musicals, giving me the opportunity to see some of my personal favourites on the big screen (like Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, The Band Wagon and Hello Dolly) as well as a number of new-to-me films, such as Yankee Doodle Dandy which I saw last week. 

Yankee Doodle Dandy (1942), directed by Michael Curtiz, is a very entertaining musical biopic about American  composer/ actor/ singer/ dancer/ producer George M. Cohan who in his time was known as "The man who owned Broadway". The role of Cohan is energetically played by James Cagney (who worked hard to master Cohan's typical stiff-legged dance style), a performance which earned him an Academy Award. Cohan was still alive when Yankee Doodle Dandy was made, but due to ill health he wasn't really involved in the making of the film. Before his death in November 1942, Cohan did see the final result, approving of both the film and Cagney's portrayal. 

Seen below are two letters from James Cagney to author Patrick McGilligan, written in 1979 in connection with McGilligan's 1981 book Yankee Doodle Dandy. The letters are an interesting read, speaking (among others) of George Cohan, the twins Julius and Philip Epstein who worked on the script uncredited (Cagney thought the script by Robert Buckner and Edmund Joseph lacked humour so the Epstein brothers were brought in to do rewrites) and of the "truly fanatical" Michael Curtiz who would go on to make Casablanca that same year.

Transcript:

July 3, 1979

Dear Mr. McGilligan,

In answer to your recent letter, all the information you mention regarding the Cohan contribution to "Yankee Doodle Dandy" is quite accurate.

There never was a script submitted to Mr. Cohan. He sent a friend out, who was a lawyer, to view the rough cut. My brother Bill escorted Mr. Raftery to a projection room, and sat him down in a big comfortable chair. 

Inasmuch as the script had not been submitted to Cohan, my brother was full of misgivings, feeling the lawyer friend would step all over it. My brother was wrong. About twenty minutes into the film it really got to Mr. Raftery. As he sat on the other end of the room, my brother could feel the lounge vibrating as he realized Mr. Raftery was crying. Bill knew he was home free then. 

The other obstacle was in reference to Cohan's first wife, Ethel Levy. There was to be no mention of her, so she was left out of the script to oblige Mr. Cohan. He gave his complete approval and never went to court about it. 

If there ever was a script written by Cohan I never saw it. I did see "The Phantom President", but it was a flop, and Mr. Cohan's mannered performance did not help it any. I met him once when he was casting a play. I was in and out in a great hurry, Cohan holding I was not the type  he was looking for.

That about covers my acquaintance with Mr. Cohan. He was a fine actor, and knew his business thoroughly, and used his personal mannerisms sparingly. 

George M. Cohan

An interesting light on the way the film reached the Cohan family,  and this may be apocryphal. Warner Bros. sent a print up to his home and he and his wife sat in the projection room and viewed the picture. After the lights went up, Mrs. Cohan, who had not gotten out of her wheelchair in years, got up and walked over and said to George, "George you were fine." She had accepted me as George so completely. Now that may be all fraudulent, but I thought you should know it. It is interesting if true. 

Did you ever see Cohan in "Ah Wilderness"? He was simply marvelous. It was truly a great performance. His mannerisms, which were a holdover from earlier times, were not in evidence when he was doing that job. 

If there be anything else you would like to know, please drop me another note and I shall be happy to reply.

I just thought of something else. There was a group of us who used to have dinner every Tuesday night years back. When I say "we" it was people who had worked with Cohan: Spencer Tracy, Ralph Bellamy, Frank Morgan and Pat O'Brien.

When it was announced that I was to play Cohan, I told the boys what my plans for him were. I did play him as straight as I could, in the off stage sequences, and used his mannerisms only when the opportunities presented themselves, without dragging them in unnecessarily.  Apparently that worked, because they all agreed that was the sensible approach.

I also forgot to mention that in that last viewing by Cohan and his wife, he was dying then of cancer of the bladder. He was lifted by one of his retainers and transported to the john to relieve himself, four or five times during the showing. That's what I was told. He approved of what he saw, apparently, and then it was allowed to go into distribution without any further bother from the family.

I trust this is enough for you to use on the jacket, or as much of this letter as you feel you need. 

All the best.

Sincerely

"signed"

James Cagney

Transcript:

August 27, 1979

Dear Mr. McGilligan,

I can understand the mystery involved in the final script of "Yankee Doodle Dandy." The Epstein boys were responsible for most of the re-write. There is no reason for you to know that, or through the shooting scripts there were interpolations by actors and directors concerned with it. Curtiz did have very little to do with that, as his knowledge of English was very spare. 

Joseph was a writer, who as I understand it, and I never met him, needed the credit, and the Epstein boys put his name in in place of their own as a favor to a friend. Buckner, who decidedly lacked any imagination,  as far as I could find out, contributed little and I withheld approval of the script until the Epstein boys were put on it. They were bright and charming young men, and very likeable.

The crying that I used in the death scene with Papa, just seemed to do the finishing off of what was in the script. 

I believe I told you in my other letter to you about Mr. Cohan sending out his lawyer friend, of 300 pounds and Boston Irish, to sit in judgment on what was in the finished product. I believe I may have mentioned that my brother took this Mr. Raftery into the production room and after 20 minutes my brother noticed the couch Mr. Raftery was on started to tremble and the lawyer man was in tears. We knew then we had his complete approval.

There were many things which I dropped into the script. But that was true of all our jobs for some of us.

Curtiz, to answer your questions about him, wore his coat of many colors rather well, and he was most unhappy when off the set. I used to say there was no such person as Curtiz, but only Curtiz the director. I understand they would actually take the camera from him to keep him from going on for 24 hours of straight shooting. He was truly fanactical [sic]. I understand he had no life off the set. George Brent, who died recently, had a fund of stories about Mike, and could get many laughs about them. I never heard any of the stories. I hope this all helps to fill the bill for you. All good wishes.

Sincerely,
"signed" 

Source of both letters: iCollector.com here and here.

Above: The Epstein brothers, Julius (left) and Philip, best known for co-writing the screenplay of Casablanca with Howard Koch. Below: James Cagney with Michael Curtiz on the set of Angels with Dirty Faces (1938); they made five films together, the other three being The Mayor of Hell (1933), Jimmy the Gent (19340 and Captains of the Clouds (1942).