When Louis B. Mayer first saw Danny Thomas, who is a professional Lebanese, on a night-club stage, he liked everything about him except his looks. “I would put you under contract immediately,” he told Danny, “except you look too Jewish. I want you to have some surgery to straighten out your nose.”
He imagined it was doubt about the possible result that made Danny decline with thanks. “Well, then, I understand you have a brother. Here’s what we’ll do for you. We’ll have his nose done first as a sample.” He was amazed when that offer was turned down, too.
Because of his “lady complex,” I was approached by Louis, who begged me to get his daughters into our most private private school, whose principal was a friend of mine. There was no point in mincing words. “Mr. Mayer,” I said, “they don’t accept them.”
“But they’ll take my daughters,” he snapped. “Can’t you tell the head mistress how important I am?”
“It won’t do any good. You can’t win that one. They will not take Jews.” He had no choice but to accept the truth, no matter how disagreeable.
When Samuel Goldwyn was preparing Guys and Dolls, I heard he was talking about having Frank Sinatra play Nathan Detroit, the gambling man, brilliantly played by Sam Levene on Broadway. I bearded Samuel in his den. “Sinatra’s no more fitted for that part than I am. He’s a great entertainer, but not in that role. Nobody but nobody can play it like Sam Levene. Why don’t you get him?”
“You can’t have a Jew playing a Jew,” Sam said calmly. “It wouldn’t work on the screen.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. “What was that you said?” He repeated his words. “I could slay you for that remark,” I exploded.
“But you won’t.”
“But someday I might,” I warned.