Three days later, Jorja and I flew to New York, to spend a few days before boarding the Queen Mary.
There were some interesting plays on Broadway - The Crucible, Wonderful Town, Picnic, The Seven Year Itch, and Dial M for Murder. Walking into the lobbies of the various theaters gave me a sharp sense of deja vu. Some of the plays were in theaters that Ben Roberts and I had had plays in. So many incredible events had happened since that time. But the most incredible of all was that a Cary Grant picture that I had directed was going to open at Radio City Music Hall.
One evening, Jorja and I went to see The Crucible, Arthur Miller's new play. In the cast were Arthur Kennedy, E. G. Marshall, Beatrice Straight, and Madeleine Sherwood. It was a stunning evening in the theater. Jorja was enthralled.
As the curtain came down, she turned to me. "Who directed this play?"
"Jed Harris. He's directed Uncle Vanya, A Doll's House, Our Town, and The Heiress."
"He's incredible," Jorja declared. "I want to work with him one day."
I took her hand. "Only if he's that lucky."
Chapter 24
The following morning we sailed for London. It was a perfect, smooth crossing, and it seemed to me that that described my present life. I was married to a woman I adored. I was under contract to a major studio, doing what I loved to do, and I was on my way to Europe, on a second honeymoon.
When the ship docked, we took the boat train to London, spent a few days there, and then went on to Paris, where we checked in at the beautiful Hotel Lancaster on Rue de Berri. The hotel had a spectacular garden where they served drinks and meals.
The first thing I did once we checked in was to call the Paris office of United Artists. I spoke to Mr. Berns, the manager.
"Mr. Spiegel told us to expect your call, Mr. Sheldon. When would you like to see the film?"
"It really doesn't matter. Anytime."
"Would tomorrow morning be satisfactory? Say - ten o'clock?"
"Fine."
Jorja and I spent the day sightseeing and went to the fabled Maxim's for dinner.
The next morning, as I was getting dressed, Jorja was still in bed.
"We're running the film at ten o'clock, honey. You'd better get ready."
She shook her head. "I'm a little tired. Why don't you go? I think I'll stay in and rest today. We're going to dinner and the theater tonight."
"All right. I won't be long."
The United Artists office sent a limousine to pick me up and take me to their headquarters. I met Mr. Berns, a tall, pleasant-faced man with a full head of silver hair.
"Pleased to meet you," he said. "Why don't we go right into the theater?"
We walked into the huge theater that the company used to screen movies. There was only one other person there. He was slight, short, and unprepossessing. The only thing outstanding about his features were his eyes. They were very bright, almost probing. We were introduced, but I didn't get his name.
The movie began. It was a French western, badly done, and I was sure that Sam Spiegel would have no interest in it.
I looked across the aisle, and Mr. Berns and the stranger were deep in conversation.
The stranger was saying ". . . and I said to Zanuck, it will never work, Darryl . . . Harry Warner tried to make a deal with me, but he's such a bastard . . . and at dinner, Darryl said to me . . ."
Who the hell was this man?
I walked over to them. "Excuse me," I said to the stranger, "I didn't get your name."
He looked up at me and nodded. "Harris. Jed Harris."
I must have grinned from ear to ear. "Have I got someone who wants to meet you!"
"Really?"
"What are you doing right now?"
He shrugged. "Nothing special."
"Would you come back to the hotel with me? I want you to meet my wife."
"Sure."
Fifteen minutes later, we were in the garden of the Lancaster. I telephoned Jorja from downstairs.
"Hi."
"Hi. You're back. How was the movie?"
"Underwhelming. Come on down to the garden. We'll have lunch here."
"I'm not dressed, darling. Why don't we have something up in our room?"
"No, no. You must come down. There's someone I want you to meet."
"But - "
"No buts."
Fifteen minutes later, Jorja appeared.
I turned to Jed. "This is Jorja."
I looked at Jorja. "Jorja, this is Jed Harris." I said it slowly and watched her face light up.
We sat down. Jorja was thrilled to meet Jed Harris and they talked theater for half an hour before we ordered lunch. Jed Harris was absolutely charming. He was intelligent and funny and the soul of courtesy. I felt that we had made a new friend.
During the meal he turned to me and said, "I'm impressed with your work. How would you like to write a Broadway play for me?"
Writing a play directed by Jed Harris meant I would be working with a master. "I'd like that very much," I said. I hesitated. "At the moment, I'm afraid I don't have an idea for a play."
He smiled. "I do." He started telling me various plots that he had in mind. I listened, and after each one I said, "That doesn't excite me," or "I don't think that would interest me," or "That sounds too familiar."
After about six different premises of his, he came up with one that I liked. It was about a female efficiency expert who almost destroys the people in the firm she's sent to examine, and in the end, falls in love and changes.
"That has real possibilities," I told Jed. "Unfortunately, Jorja and I are leaving tomorrow. We're going to be traveling around Europe."