Olivia de Havilland recalls wartime shows, enjoys making similar type tours now

OLIVIA DE HAVILLAND was radiant and lovely, like a movie queen ought to be.

"Come on in," she said. "But you'll have to excuse the house — we're raising the roof around here," The carpenters were busy and the interior decorator had just sent over a new chair for Miss de Havilland's bedroom and the delivery boys were struggling up the stairs with it.

She and her French husband, Paris magazine executive Pierre Galante, were literally "raising the roof." Their white stucco house in Paris' 16th Arrondissement was undergoing a complete transformation. Included in the remodeling was a project that heightened the top floor to make space for a playroom for their children.

This day Miss de Havilland had every right to be a bundle of nerves — upset house, a trip to the States to prepare for, plans for a personal appearance at the premiere of her new film in Atlanta. But she displayed the charm and smoothness for which she Is famous as she graciously and naturally received the reporter and photographer from The Stars and Stripes. It was more as though she, in her role as Paris mother and housewife, were having neighbors in for a midmorning cup of coffee.

Although she now lives in Paris, Miss de Havilland is still very much a part of the movies. And she is still enjoying a vast popularity both in the U.S. and overseas, often in remote corners of the world. "I have received letters commenting on films that I'd even forgotten about," Miss de Havilland said as she thumbed through a recent batch of mail. There were letters from Madagascar, East Germany, Yugoslavia and the Far East.

The Oscar-winning actress, whose performances in "The Snake Pit" and "The Heiress" are regarded among the highlights in the history of the cinema, says she likes living in Paris. Business and social engagements keep her occupied, but she has found time in her schedule to keep appointments with some of her favorite people — U.S. servicemen.

Appearing at U.S. military installations is one of the star's old loves. It was her patriotic contribution during World War II. She earned the reputation for being one of the most faithful and favorite celebrities visiting isolated islands and battlefronts in the Pacific during World War II. She risked life and limb in this effort. Once she rode out a crippled plane over the ocean. Another time she came down with virus pneumonia, spent days in an island hospital before doctors finally could diagnose her near-critical case.

She calls herself a "50-cent-a-year" woman, because she is presently under contract with the Army's Special Services for personal appearances for the next two years in Germany, France, Italy or at whatever installation in Europe where she may be invited. She Is paid $1 for the contract.

Last year she was made a honorary member of the 11th Airborne Div and now one of her prized possessions is the khaki jacket tailored to her measurements bearing the 11th's patch on one sleeve and the identification patch, "de Havilland" across the chest.

She has been to Berlin and to bases in Italy. Her summer schedule of tours is booked solid, as far as time and other commitments will allow. Counting her travel time, Miss de Havilland last year devoted nearly a month to visits with U.S. servicemen in Europe.

The $1 contract has helped Miss de Havilland to retain her American citizenship.  She was born in Tokyo of British parents and was naturalized in the U.S. after she went to Hollywood. Now, married to a French citizen, it would be necessary for her to return to the U.S. periodically to retain citizenship. The law provides that if a naturalized citizen remains outside the U.S. for five years, citizenship is lost.

At present, it is expected that Congress will pass a bill waiving the existing law in Miss de Havilland's case. Rep. Francis E. Walter (D-Pa.) recently introduced such a bill. He did not know Miss de Havilland personally, he said, but he was acquainted with her visits to servicemen both during the war and at present. Meanwhile, Miss de Havilland. with a Government contract, can retain her citizenship without interruption of the life she likes best.

Her marriage to Pierre Galante came about in the same storybook manner as the rest of her fabulous life since leaving school at Our Lady's Convent at Belmont, Calif., in 1934; going to drama school and beginning a motion picture career in 1935.

She met the magazine executive on her first visit to France, in 1953. That year she had come to Paris with her young son, Benjamin, on her way to Cannes for the international film festival.

It may have been by coincidence that Galante, a member of the festival committee, was at the airport when she arrived. It also may have been by coincidence that he happened to join her manager and her at lunch one day in Paris. And, by coincidence again, he was at her table every day during banquets at the film festival.

Later Miss de Havilland left for Dallas for a summer theater engagement. Shortly after, there was a cable front Galante. He was coming to Texas.

By now. the actress was aware that the Frenchman's attentions had nothing to do with coincidence. So, to welcome him to Dallas, she decided to please him with something typically French — foie gras and champagne. The fourth day of this diet, though, caused the visitor to say, "I am deeply in love with you, but even though I am French there are two, things I really don't like — goose liver and champagne."

Miss de Havilland recalls she was more impressed, or perhaps stunned, at first at his gallantry in enduring the pate and champagne for four days than she was with his declaration of love. Shortly after they were married at Yvoy-le-Marron, near Orleans, France. It was April 2, the same day Napoleon had married Marie.

Paris life is interesting, says Miss de Havilland. She didn't know much French on her first visit to France, but now she speaks it welt. Among the Galantes' friends are numerous French film notables. They like to entertain at home and will do so again once the house is finished. Thanksgiving dinner is always a big occasion at the Galante home. Benjamin now is in school in Normandy. The Galantes have a daughter. Gisele, who will be 2 years old this month.

Her new picture, "The Proud Rebel," will be on service screens soon. It to due for an early showing on the Champs-Elysses in Paris. Miss de Havilland attended the premiere In Atlanta, where just 20 years before she had gone for the opening of "Gone With the Wind."

"I'm not sure whether they're going to like me in Atlanta this time," she said before leaving Paris. "Last time I was the shining example of Southern womanhood. This time it's also a Civil War film, but I'm on the other side."

The Olivia de Havilland Interview

Fifty years ago, two-time Oscar winner Olivia de Havilland took action to change her career and the lives of all performers. The indomitable actors' advocate (who gladly joined the fledgling Guild on April 29, 1936) successfully sued Warners to get out of an unfair contract in the mid 1940's. "The de Havilland decision", as the landmark case became known in the industry, was a breakthrough for actors who were then able to choose their own roles and career destinies. In an exclusive interview with Screen Actor, Miss de Havilland spoke with Harry Medved about her choice of roles, early Guild meetings, and "the decision" of a lifetime.

Tell us about your first SAG meeting.

I attended some of the big gatherings of SAG members held at the Hollywood Legion Stadium, a large fight auditorium. I recall these as lively affairs with strong and vociferous reactions from the membership. I recollect, in particular, a large assembly where a group of players was seated with the Chairman on a sort of raised platform and that one of them was Joan Crawford, who knitted industriously throughout the meeting. Ralph Morgan was one of our first leaders and he had his hands full, but he made a valiant effort to be equal to the challenge.

Were certain actors reluctant to join the Guild?

The formation of SAG was a very controversial matter and major stars, though protected in many ways by their contracts, were at risk because these agreements not only contained a unilateral yearly option which the producer could exercise at will, but also quite strict provisions regarding behavior offensive to public opinion. A major star's popularity outside the industry could well be diminished by appearing pro-labor in a society still uneasy about unions, and such a star could jeopardize his or her career by seeming to oppose the interests of the employer. Joan Crawford's hearty welcome at an early Guild gathering may have been because her presence showed courage, which everyone else there recognized, and it also showed solidarity with those less well-placed than herself.

Was it necessary for you to keep your SAG membership a secret?

I never made a secret of my membership, but I did incur my mother's shocked disapproval!

How did you feel about your early roles as delicate heroines at Warners?

I detested playing the female leads in Alibi Ike (1935), Wings of the Navy (1939), and other films, but enjoyed Arabella Bishop in Captain Blood (1935) and Maid Marian in The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938).

How did you get cast in Gone With The Wind (1939)? Did you have to fight to show your range?

According to Memo [the Selznick biography], David O. thought that I would be a good choice for the character of Melanie after having screened The Adventures of Robin Hood, a huge money maker for Warners in 1938. George Cukor subsequently asked if I were interested and would I come very discreetly to his office for a reading? I complied and a few days later, equally discreetly, drove to Selznick's house for another reading. That decided the matter for David, but to obtain Jack Warner's agreement was a complicated and suspenseful operation. Finally, Jack Warner took in exchange for me a one-picture commitment which Selznick held for the services of James Stewart.

Was Warners a tough studio to work at?

Warners was a particularly well-equipped, well-run, and well-maintained studio but was also rather cut-and-dried and business-like in its approach to making movies. Very different from Selznick, who was passionate about the films he made. He selected them with great care, and wanted them to be works of art as well as financial successes. At Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, actors could reason with the studio when they felt uncomfortable about a role, they could take a lay-off or a different assignment in its place. At Warner Bros. a suspension was the immediate reply to an actor's disinclination to take on a particular assignment.

What was the effect of the "de Havilland decision" on your fellow actors?

I was very proud of that decision, for it corrected a serious abuse of the contract system - forced extension of a contract beyond its legal term. Among those who benefitted by the decision were the actors who fought in World War II and who, throughout that conflict, were on suspension. I was deeply gratified when, returning to MGM after his long and distinguished military service, Jimmy Stewart asked the court on the basis of that decision for a ruling on his contract - and thus the contracts of other actor-veterans - and received, of course, a favorable verdict. When I won the final round of my case on Feb. 3, 1945, every actor was now confirmed as free of his long-term contract at the end of its seven year term, regardless of how many suspensions he had taken during those seven years. No one thought I would win, but after I did, flowers, letters and telegrams arrived from my fellow actors. This was wonderfully rewarding. The Guild served as Amicus Curiae in my case: friend of the Court.

What are your memories of working with future Guild President Ronald Reagan?

Ronnie Reagan was a very sociable creature. Extroverted in the nicest way. When we worked with Errol Flynn on Santa Fe Trail in 1940, Ronnie was already interested in the Guild and would sit beside me on the set to chat about SAG and other things. During night shooting out in the San Fernando Valley, when Flynn continually turned up late for our 9 p.m. call, forcing the cast to work until dawn, Ronnie sought me out and asked me to plead with Flynn to mend his "wicked, wicked ways." I went into Flynn's on-location tent as Ronnie's emissary to persuade him to be on time. To my astonishment Errol was really quite cold with me and said: "Why do you have to put it on a personal basis?" I never understood his behavior and it took me 50 years to figure it out. It wasn't until a White House dinner, when Ronnie reminisced about the night shooting on Santa Fe Trail and how Flynn had re-arranged a photo line-up to Ronnie's extreme disadvantage, that I finally realized that Errol was nettled by Ronnie's popularity on the set and, very possibly, by his affable relations with the leading lady. Evidently Flynn thought Ronnie and I were engaged in a passionate romance. Of course it was nothing of the kind. Ronnie was happily married at the time and I was interested in a shy, tall, blue-eyed actor whose name it will take you much less than 50 years to figure out!