"It Can Be Lonely"




This article appeared in Photoplay Magazine August, 1958

My name is Sandra Dee. I am sixteen years old and a movie actress. I don't date. I don't know many boys. I have a private tutor because I'm working when other teenagers who would be my friends are at high school. Sometimes I wish I could go to a school dance or maybe even get invited by an older man to a college prom. Maybe I'm mixed up because I think one minute I'd like to have some of the other things girls have, like friends their own age and all that, and the next minute I'm all excited about my work. It's like what grownups call "mixed emotions."...

Take for instance the day of my first screen test. I was scared, I was happy, I wanted to go home! I was early for it. there was a man standing around who liked at me as if I had come especially to bring him some dreadful disease but when I said I was waiting to take my test, and I think my voice shook a little, he have me a smile and said to himself, "Another one, eh?" And to me he said, "Stick around, kid, and stop frowning. They'll turn up---sooner or later."....

Maybe I'd better start at the beginning to tell you how it all happened. Like most every kid, I guess, I dreamed of being an actress when I was a little girl. It was a dream to play with just for fun. Then when I became a Girl Scout, I wanted to be the Best Girl Scout and I sort of "retired" from the acting business. One time we had a benefit show and I tried making like a model, you know, like you see in the movies. I minced around, walking like I was on eggs. Harry Conover, who has a model agency in New York, saw me and asked how would I like to become a professional model. I was twelve. We had moved from Bayonne, N.J., to New York City and I guess I modeled more dresses than I will ever own. Then I got to be a cover girl and got on some TV shows. I signed up with an agency called Schwartz and Luskin and they got me commercials to do.

Then one day they asked me how would I like to go and see Ross Hunter about a part in a movie. How would I like to go? Were they crazy? Then the butterflies started in my tummy. I'm not usually frightened about many things, except for heights that aren't enclosed. I'd make a horrible mountain climber. Oh yes, and I'm scared of needles, too--you know, when the doctor says, "Don't look, this won't hurt," and you do and it does? I told myself that Mr. Hunter was only a man and if I didn't get the part I wouldn't actually die. He wasn't going to kill me or anything. He said a friendly "hello" and tried to make me feel at ease. But how could I feel at ease when I knew he had interviewed over a hundred girls for the part in "The Wonderful Years"? But he has a wonderful way, after he talks to you for a while, of giving you confidence. Confidence? Did I need it! I thought I read the part pretty badly. then he told me I might have to go to Hollywood to make the test--the one that counted. I didn't really believe him, because a lot of people tell you things, you know, like "When you grow up, you're going to be a movie star." So I went home and thought it would have been nice to get to be a movie actress. About two months later I read in a Hollywood column that I was going to Hollywood to make a test for Universal. And now we come back to that matter of me on the big soundstage.....So there I was at last, more alone, I guess, than I have ever felt in my whole life. There were a few men working overhead, pounding things and fixing lights---I don't really know what they were doing. They could have been Men from Mars for all of me. They didn't even notice me.

I walked around, trying to tell myself that I wasn't the only girl in the world who ever had a Hollywood screen test, after all!

I think this is a helpful thing to think when you feel as I did. Just say to yourself, when you feel frightened in some situation: "Look, you are just one person in a world full of people and others have had to go through this same thing. They've lived through it, so who are you to drop dead or anything?" It helps.

Well anyway, I wished that somebody would show up so we could get it over with. Waiting is so hard. It's like when you go to the dentist and somebody is inside making little moans and you hear the drill and you know your turn is next.

But there wasn't anybody. Just those Martians overhead, laughing and talking to each other and not seeing that there ,was this scared kid on the stage, which was me.

How can they laugh, I said to myself, when I'm simply dying? I started to say my lines out loud, because my throat felt dry, like it needed oiling. My voice sounded so small and shaky. I knew I had to speak up when the time came, so I tried it louder. Then one of the men called down, "You're OK, Blondie."

"Hello," I said, as if he was an old friend. "I'm kind of practicing."

Another man said, "Just don't give a darn. Go get a drink of water," and his companion added, "Just go get a drink!"

We all laughed. It seemed to break the ice that was in my veins. Friendly people. How much that can mean at a time like that. At any time. I made up my mind then and there that I'd always try to say a friendly word to anybody who was scared about having a screen test--that is, if I ever got into a movie studio again. I wondered if my "career" might be over before it began.

I got the drink of water, and when I came back, the others had arrived. I made an "entrance" by tripping over a cable cord. That was because I caught a glimpse of Johnny Saxon. He was going to make the test with me. I think that test lasted longer than any in history. You know why? I had to kiss Johnny. Sound easy?

Every time it came to the place in the script where I was supposed to kiss him I flunked out. I evaded that kiss like it was the kiss of death. I just couldn't do it. I was so embarrassed. He was so patient with me and so was Ross Hunter, who was producing the picture.

Then after we'd gone through it about a couple of dozen times, I happened to look up, and one of my friends gave me a wink. If there is any such thing as a wink of encouragement, that was it.

"You're OK, Blondie" kept repeating in my mind. But I wasn't acting OK. I was failing because of my stupid shyness.

Ross Hunter said I was doing just fine, and to let's try the whole scene once more. Once more. He was giving me one more chance. I think it was at that moment that I really was sure I wanted to be an actress. Well, I kissed Johnny. I got the part.

After the test for "The Wonderful Years" they weren't ready to start the picture, so Universal, who has signed me to a contract, lent me to M-G-M for "Until They Sail," my first picture. Here I was playing an important role with such wonderful people as Jean Simmons and Joan Fontaine. They were so nice to me. I used to watch all their scenes, because I knew I needed to learn.

Sometimes I have spurts of confidence and sometimes I feel so shy I want to go and hide. I had one of my confident feelings when I first went to see the picture. I said to myself, "I'm going to walk in like a big movie star. My picture is playing on Hollywood Boulevard." I wore dark glasses and no makeup, and I went slithering in by myself. Nobody paid any attention to me. So I said to myself, "Well, maybe it wouldn't hurt if they recognized me a little bit," so the second time I went I took my hair down a little and wore a little lipstick, but I still wore the dark glasses. I hung around the lobby after it was over and somebody said, "Who was the little blonde girl in the picture?" and somebody else said "I don't know," and I looked at them and grinned. Then I went down to the ladies' room and heard the women talking about how they liked the picture, and I stood there smiling, and nobody noticed me.

The third time I went, I got all dressed up and had my hair done at the studio and I talked real loud in the lobby, about Jean Simmons and Joan Fontaine, but nobody noticed.

When I sat down, there were two boys next to me, and they were trying to guess my age in the picture, and I sat up, looking at them and sort of smiling, and after about ten minutes of this, one of them turned and said: "Here, kid, do you want some popcorn?" The only person who ever recognized me was the usher, but then he'd seen me come in and out about three times.

But after the picture had been playing around a while some people did recognize me. Some didn't. Like when I went to a preview one time some people asked me for my autograph. One girl asked for it and then asked who I was. I had a nice little bunch of girls and boys around me when the manager came up and said I must go inside now because the picture was starting. But I wanted to stand outside talking to these kids.

Even when they are nice enough to want your autograph though, you keep wondering what they're really thinking. Maybe they're thinking, "What a crummy looking thing. Why did they ever take her in Hollywood?" Or--"She's dressed too old for her age--or too young." You never know. So I feel kind of funny.

It's the same way in a restaurant. The other day I went with Mama to Sardi's, that famous place in New York where the stars go. When I was a little girl in my "actress wishing" days, I used to pretend I was Elizabeth Taylor or Janet Leigh. I'd go around every day being somebody else. I'd put on Mama's house coat and high heels. And now, here I was sitting in the midst of real actors and actresses, and then I suddenly thought "Why I'm an actress too!" Only now I don't want to copy anybody. I want to be an individual.

People looked at me. They looked at everybody there because everybody is likely to be "somebody." This, in spite of the fact that I wanted to be recognized that time at the theater, usually gets me down.

I guess I'm self-conscious all the time. I hate myself for it. And I haven't overcome it yet. I think I was trying to when I acted like that at the theater. Mama says I'm a perfectionist. Anyway I never feel I do well. I actually have gone home from the studio and cried. I can't believe I can be good. I'm never satisfied.

Well, anyway, at Sardi's, a man came up I knew from my modeling days, and he said, "How does it feel to be a star?" Now really--when you've only made three pictures, two of them still to be released then, you don't go around thinking you're a star. A starlet maybe.

You don't that is, unless you want to throw all your hats away and get some a size larger with that big head.

"Don't you go and get spoiled," he advised.

Spoiled? I couldn't be any more spoiled than I've been most of my life. Mama and Daddy spoiled me. Did I happen to want the moon? Well it might be difficult to arrange but they'd try. The only thing I have extra now is my career, and that I'm working at, and that never spoils you, when you're working at something you want to do. You'll always want to do better and never be satisfied. I guess that's good. Like the horse who keeps trotting because the carrot is dangling in front of his nose. But I do want to do the best I can. Everybody does.

I have some pretty bad traits which I don't like. I'm sloppy. I never pick up things. I hate to get up in the morning, and I hate to go to bed at night.

Also, I hurry too much. I bought my coat in five minutes. I'd dreamed of it--I saw it, and I said, "Come home with me, coat." The only thing I don't hurry about is eating. I don't like to eat very much. I usually do something like watching TV or reading while I'm eating.

And I hate dishonesty. If I don't trust somebody I feel uncomfortable to be around them. Sometimes you can be wrong about a person, so I try to believe everybody is honest until I find some reason not to.

What I do like is a good handshake. You can tell a lot about somebody by a very firm grip.

People ask you what kind of a man do you want to marry. What's your ideal man? they say. Well, somebody tall--he doesn't have to be handsome, but he must be intelligent and kind. I don't want to be the boss. I want somebody to tell me what to do. I want to be a little afraid of him, I think. I guess I mean I just want to respect him as I suppose every girl does.

But right now I don't date, or know many people my own age. It would be nice to be a part of a crowd. I like to cook, for instance. It would be fun to ask my gang in for a meal, if I had a gang. Now that I'm an actress, I sometimes dream of just being a girl, with girl friends to talk to. I know a few girls in Hollywood--Molly Bee and Gia Scala-but there's nobody my age. Barbara Gale's the youngest. She's eighteen.

I'd like to know some boys, too, that's for sure. I did have a couple of dates in Hollywood--with Tommy Sands and Johnny Winters, but both times something happened and I never did get to go. Besides, I never know what to talk about. I know what I'd like to do if I did date when I get back to Hollywood. If it were Saturday, I'd like to go to dinner and a theater. On weekdays, I'd go for a ride, to the beach and to the movies. I've seen so many movies the poor boy would probably have to see them over again. Mama says I'm keeping the industry alive. She can't keep up with me so I go mostly alone, as often, sometimes, as once a day.

But one thing's for sure, now and forever--I love Paris. I used to think that was just a place where people didn't speak English. Then I saw travel pictures, and I began to imagine what it was like. Now that I'm there, I'm getting to see everything a tourist would see--the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, and I love to go walking along the banks of the Seine River.

Funny thing about how I knew I got the part in "The Reluctant Debutante." I tested for Vincente Minnelli. There is a wonderful director. He thanked me afterwards, and said I would hear from him. But since I never think I've done well in a test, this was no different. I was walking around as if I'd lost my last friend.

It was about eight-thirty in the morning, and we were all on the set of "And Ride a Tiger." We were sitting at a table for a dining room scene and I noticed Mama was called to the telephone. Right in the middle of the scene she came back and I sort of looked at her and she nodded her head "yes." I let out a howl: "Oh no!" The whole scene was ruined. Everybody was so nice about it--Mary Astor, Jeff Chandler, Conrad Nagel--They just seemed happy for me. People--I love 'em!

Alors, mes amis--That's what the French book says that I'm studying so I won't be just too stupid with the Parisians . . . and that's about as far as I can go in French.

I hope I haven't yakked about myself too much. I'm new at this business, and I'm still awed, with a feeling of wonder. I've let off some steam here, and have tried to say how I feel about life, people and my job. I think most teenagers probably have the same feelings. We don't know exactly where we're going, but we're on our way. It can be awfully lonely sometimes, but isn't it great to be a girl, even if, like me, you don't have dates or know boys or go to dances and feel horribly lacking in self-confidence sometimes and think you're a drip?

As I said before, I guess it's part of growing up. But we'll all get there some day.



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