Yesterday on my way back from polo with Spencer Tracy and the Venezuelan team, I stopped by Musso's and had a sit-down with Dashiell Hammett. His demeanor was more formal and on edge than the man I'd known those many years hanging 'round the Algonquin crowd in our corner with me and George S. Kaufman. After a few stiff ones, he finally cut to the chase demanding to know why I was stirring up trouble with my Tom Cruise bashing. Yesterday, you might recall, I was writing my column asserting Peter Lorre's superior acting finesse over Tom's "perpetually grinning head". Hammett, or "Ham" as I call him, ducked under the table when Jack Warner walked into the the joint, too afraid to be seen with me.
Ham wasn't the first person to ride me over my Cruise comments. I'd already gotten calls from Bette Davis, James Whale, and Ida Lupino earlier in the day; each one reminding me of how the people behind the Tom Cruise celebrity juggernaut are capable of having me out of work and out of town on a rail. Plus, I hear this L. Ron character's got a shiny pair of brass knuckles you could sleep a week over.
This sort of thing never happened to Louella Parsons.
coincidence, hmm? Read HERE. ...or do something worthwhile with your day.