American Prince: A Memoir

American Prince: A Memoir

by Tony Curtis, Peter Golenbock

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Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780307449467
Publisher: Crown/Archetype
Publication date: 10/14/2008
Sold by: Random House
Format: NOOK Book
Pages: 384
Sales rank: 538,689
File size: 2 MB

About the Author

TONY CURTIS is one of Hollywood’s greatest stars. Today, he lives with his wife, Jill, outside of Las Vegas, where he continues to create paintings that have made him newly famous as a visual artist the world over. They are the founders of the Shiloh Horse Rescue and Sanctuary, a nonprofit foundation that rehabilitates abused and neglected horses for adoption.

PETER GOLENBOCK has written six New York Times bestsellers over a thirty-year career. In 2006 he cowrote the bestselling Idiot with then–Boston Red Sox, now–New York Yankee outfielder Johnny Damon. His book Seven, about Mickey Mantle, was published in 2007.

Read an Excerpt

All my life I had one dream, and that was tobe in the movies. Maybe it was because I had a pretty rough childhood, or perhaps it was because I was always more than a little insecure, but as a kid I longed to see myself ten feet tall on the big screen. Through no fault of my teachers, I received almost no formal education, but after I spent three years in the Navy during World War II, the GI Bill allowed me to go to acting school on the government’s nickel. I may not have had much schooling, but it turned out I had a gift for acting. When I walked out on that stage, it felt like a hand in a velvet glove. I wasn’t scared; I wasn’t even nervous. I just loved being the center of attention, just like I’d always known I would.

I performed in summer stock, and I acted in Clifford Odets’s play Golden Boy exactly twice over a single weekend, but before I knew it I had been summoned to meet a studio executive at Universal Studios. It was the spring of 1948. I was excited, but
I wasn’t surprised. Going to Hollywood had been my life’s plan since I could remember, and I was too naive to know it almost never works out that way.

I got myself out to New York’s Idlewild Airport (now JFK) and boarded a TWA Super Constellation, a four-engine prop plane bound for Los Angeles. I had never been on a Super Constellation before, but I knew all about it from movies and magazines.
I was served a little lunch. The stewardesses were real nice to me. One of them was very pretty, so I had a chance to flirt. I was just a kid, but already I loved flirting. Mostly I succeeded in sparking some kind of response, which was what I lived for.

On my first flight to LA, I sat in coach. In those days the sections weren’t partitioned, so I could see into first class, where a man with a mustache and a herringbone suit was being tended to by what was clearly a personal assistant. The guy in the suit would whisper something to the other man, who would jump up and do his bidding.

To my surprise, a little while after we took off the assistant came over and asked me, “Could you join my friend in first class?”

“Sure,” I said. I got up and walked forward to Herringbone Suit. I had no idea who he was, but he was cordial and expressed interest in why I was going to LA.

“I’m going to be an actor.”

“I figured you might be,” he said.

“I’ve got a meeting at Universal,” I said.

“Do you know anything about the other studios?” he asked.

I had heard the same Hollywood gossip as everyone else, but I had paid special attention to it, knowing that this was where I would work one day. So I said, “Warner Brothers is a tough studio to work for. Twentieth Century Fox makes action pictures. At MGM you have to sing and dance a little bit. RKO wants actors who are stable. And Universal wants young people. So that’s where I’m going.”

We talked for a few moments, and then I went back to my seat and fell asleep. After we landed, I went to pick up my luggage and there was Herringbone Suit, waiting for his assistant to fetch his bags. He saw me and said, “Can I offer you a ride?”

“That would be great, thanks. I’m staying at the Hollywood Knickerbocker Hotel.”

He said, “My driver will take me home first, then he’ll be happy to drop you off at your hotel.”

We drove through the winding streets of Beverly Hills for a while before finally pulling up to a big metal gate. Barely visible through the trees and groomed shrubbery was a tasteful mansion.

After we pulled up to it and my benefactor’s bags were unloaded, he reached over and shook my hand.

I said, “Well, it was a pleasure meeting you. And thanks for the ride. My name is Bernie Schwartz. What’s yours?”

“Jack Warner,” he said. “Let me tell you something, kid. If Universal ever drops you, come see me. I’ll change your name to Tyrone Goldfarb and make you a star all over the world!”

We both laughed. Warner got out, and his limo driver took me to the Hollywood Knickerbocker Hotel, where I slept like a baby.

The next morning I walked from the hotel to a big intersection at Highland Avenue, where a trolley took me into the San Fernando Valley, up the middle of the street, ending up at Universal Studios. After I got off, I walked under a bridge with the freeway overhead until I came to the Universal lot.

I walked right up to the gate. Now it was starting to hit me.

This was an absolutely thrilling experience for a twenty-twoyear-old kid fresh from the streets of New York. My whole life I had dreamed of being an actor in a movie studio, and here I was about to walk through the entrance of Universal Pictures as a prospective employee. I pinched myself, but the dream continued.

The gatekeeper told me to go to a door marked casting. I walked through it and up to a big, gleaming desk. “I’ve been invited to come to the studio for a meeting,” I said.

A girl behind the desk looked up at me and said, “What’s your name?”

“Bernie Schwartz.” Now I had my heart in my throat. I thought, Suppose this is a big fucking joke? I was pretty sure it had to be more than that because the studio had sent me a plane ticket. But what was a hundred and twelve dollars to a movie studio? So I held my breath for the long moment before she said, “Yes. Here you are on the list. Welcome to Universal Studios, Mr. Schwartz. You have an appointment this morning with Mr. Goldstein. To get to his office, turn right when you come out of the gate across from the barbershop, go up the path, and you’ll see his name on the door.”

I was amazed. Not only had she known my name, but she was sending me directly to the office of the man who ran things at Universal. As soon as I left her, though, I got completely lost, so I figured maybe this was an opportunity to make a spur-ofthe-
moment detour. In New York I had gone to see some filming of The Naked City, a Universal picture. Howard Duff was the star. While I stood there watching the location shoot, I struck up a conversation with the propman. We talked, and I told him I
wanted to be in the movies.

He laughed, but not unkindly. “Don’t break your heart,” he said to me. “Just enjoy going to the pictures and don’t even think about working in the business. It’s just too tough. You have no chance at all.”

So while I was wandering around lost on my way to see Mr. Goldstein, I decided to see if I could find my friend the propman.

It turned out the props department was right nearby, and there he was.

He remembered me. “Hey, kid. How are you? How did you get in the lot?”

“I’m here to sign a contract,” I said.



He was genuinely happy to see me and took obvious pleasure in my good fortune. He gave me directions to Bob Goldstein’s office, and not long after that I arrived at the studio’s inner sanctum, where all the executives had bungalows interspersed with perfectly groomed lawns. I walked along the path to an office
marked goldstein, where a well-dressed woman looked me over

“Mr. Schwartz?” No one had ever called me Mr. Schwartz before.

“That’s me,” I said.

“Just a moment, please.”

The door opened. Bob Goldstein was in town for a couple of days and was using his brother Leonard’s office. Bob sat me down, and we talked. He showed me my contract and said it would be good for seven years, with options renewable every six months, at
the studio’s discretion. Each time they renewed I’d get a raise. My starting salary would be seventy-five dollars a week.

“I’ll take it,” I said. He laughed. I picked up the pen to sign the last page, and he said, “Never sign anything until you read it.”

“There are a lot of pages,” I said.

“I don’t give a shit,” he said. “Sit down and read it. I’ll be back in an hour.”

I didn’t have the patience to read every page, but I flipped to the section that related to payment: if they were renewed, my six-month options would go from a starting salary of seventy-five dollars a week up to twelve hundred a week at the end of seven years. Other than that all I could make out was page after page of whereofs and wherefores. When Goldstein came back to his office I was reading magazines, having spent all of four minutes scanning the contract. I’m sure he knew that. I signed on June 2, 1948, one day before my twenty-third birthday. I was officially under contract. Bernie Schwartz was in the movies.

Now that I knew I was going to live in LA, at least for six months, the first thing I had to do was find a place to live. The studio had been picking up my tab at the Knickerbocker Hotel, but I didn’t want to overstay my welcome. I had heard about a rooming house on Sycamore Street where five or six other Universal actors lived. I could get breakfast and a room there for thirty dollars a month, which I could swing on my seventy-five dollars a week and still have some money left over for a car.

I moved in with whatever I had in my suitcase: a toothbrush, a comb, and some clothes. My room contained just two pieces of furniture—a bed and a dresser—but the location was perfect.

After a three-block walk to Highland Avenue, I could get on the trolley and ride twelve minutes into the San Fernando Valley to Universal Studios. The trolley also went to the Beverly Hills Hotel and from there to the Pacific Ocean. Along the way you could see big, beautiful homes in the pastel palette of Southern California, with their emerald expanses of manicured lawn.

I was required to join the Screen Actors Guild, so Bob Goldstein made me deduct twenty dollars a week from my paycheck until I paid my union dues. Bob didn’t want me to wait until I got my first movie role and then be stuck having to pay a big lump sum. He was very kind to me. He made sure I was smart about my money, and I was grateful to him for that.

I got all dressed up for my first day of work at the studio, and I was sent with a photographer to meet various executives, including Wally Westmore, the famous makeup man, and the head of the props department. When I heard that Jimmy Stewart was going to be coming onto the lot, I walked down to the front
gate and waited for him to arrive.

When he drove in, the guard at the gate greeted him: “Good morning, Mr. Stewart.”

“How are you, Irving?”

“There’s a new kid here who just signed with the studio. Would you like to meet him?”

“Sure,” Stewart said. He got out of his station wagon, walked to the little kiosk where I was standing, and greeted me graciously while the studio photographer captured the moment. Then Jimmy Stewart got back in his car and went to work. This was my first
photograph with a major star—and I had been signed with the studio for less than twenty-four hours!

I started attending acting classes provided by Universal. Richard Long, a young actor who would become a friend of mine, was in one of my classes, along with a half dozen other actors and actresses. The instructor was Abner Biberman, who had acted in a movie with Cary Grant. Abner kept making passes at all the pretty girls, but he seemed to take special pleasure in showing me up. It couldn’t be that I was Jewish, because he was too; maybe it was just that I was young, good-looking, and under contract.

But oh, did I catch hell from this guy! You could tell that he had it in for me, so he was doing what he could to make sure I’d get dropped by the studio.

After a few weeks of this, I went to Leonard Goldstein and told him what Biberman was up to. I was smart enough to know I needed the ear of somebody like Leonard, who had the clout that came from being Universal’s most prolific producer. Leonard told me that he had received other complaints about what Biberman was doing and that he wasn’t going to let anyone dump on me for any reason. A short time later, the studio fired Biberman and replaced him. And I stopped being singled out.

The best thing about moving to California was that I was enjoying total freedom for the very first time. Though I had been on my own in the service, Uncle Sam had still kept his watchful eye on me. Out here in sunny California, I was single, young, and being paid while I was training for a movie career. There were great-looking girls everywhere, so I decided it was time to start developing my knowledge of the opposite sex.

The trolley was no way to take a girl on a date, so I went out and bought a used pale green Buick convertible, with Dynaflow Drive, from Sailor Jack’s on Lancashire Boulevard in the Valley. I paid very little for it, and it wasn’t long before I discovered why. One day I pulled up the rubber mat on the driver’s side and found a hole that had rusted right through the floorboard. I could see the street below, but I didn’t care. I had wheels.

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American Prince: A Memoir 3.9 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 28 reviews.
ProfessorMS More than 1 year ago
I grew up in love with Tony Curtis. As a child, I was attracted to men, not boys. I watched Houdini every time it was on televsion. My favorite comedy is Some Like it Hot, more to do with Billy Wilder's approach to humor as opposed to the characters, but Tony Curtis was the main reason I watched this time and time again. He was gorgeous as a man and adorable as a woman...see the movie. Reading this autobiography filled in the details of a man that was not expecting to become so famous. Much of his life makes sense, he was tantamount to a rock star due to his looks, and he certainly acted like the preoverbial kid in a candy store, and it cost him a marriage to Janet Leigh. The book is funny, scandalous at times, and enthralling since there is definitely more to the man than one would think. If you like Tony (Bernard Schwartz), you'll like this book.
knahs on LibraryThing 8 months ago
Curtis comes off as a conceited jerk.
maggie1944 on LibraryThing 8 months ago
A thorough autobiography with a normal amount of self justification and perhaps more than a normal amount of honesty. Mr. Curtis seems to have been very frank without being mean, or cruel. He is very open about his life as a "move star", husband to multiple women, absent father to six children and friend to savory and unsavory people. It certainly was not an admirable life however he seems to have lived it with joy and enthusiasm for the most part while also feeling the pain and sadness of being human and part of a dysfunctional family and industry.
DanaJean on LibraryThing 8 months ago
Tony Curtis sits down with Golenbock to give us the inside story about his journey from the streets of New York to his rise to stardom. Although the layout of the book was a little disjointed and confusing, I tried not to get caught up in time line jumps. There are no real earth-shattering revelations; Curtis led a typical Hollywood life with the ups and downs we so often hear about in a star's career. I did enjoy all his personal stories, though, involving some of our great cultural icons of his heyday in the biz. Made me very nostalgic and took me back in time in my own personal life. Definitely a trip down that memory lane we so often hear about. Interesting.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
A must-read!
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Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I know Tony Curtis to be quite a character in his senior years, but this memoir is quite tame and gives few details of his years as a lothario other than to mention a number of partners. On the whole, it was an interesting light read but very much on the surface.
Piters More than 1 year ago
This memoirs about Tony Curtis are very interesting. It a part of his life that I didn't know. It is a very good book for a Biography.
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asieslavida More than 1 year ago
This was a fascinating read about his life before stardom and his meteoric rise in Hollywood. His home life during childhood was very difficult. His early marriages weren't much better. He seems to have found the magic key to happiness in his last marriage. I liked this book!
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emmi331 More than 1 year ago
For many years, Tony Curtis ranked as one of the major cinematic heartthrobs. Now in his 80s, he tells the story of a career that hit its height in the 50s and 60s, then began a long downward spiral of hasty marriages, drugs, and endless empty affairs. His greatest regret seems to be that he was never taken seriously as an actor. This could be due to the fact that he took nearly any role that was offered - especially in the latter years when he had numerous ex-wives and children to support. From the start, Mr. Curtis's reaction to temptation was to give into it, and he had affairs with some of the most gorgeous women in Hollywood. Having a wife didn't stand in the way, though he was furious if a wife "betrayed" him by having her own affair, justifying his anger by saying that at least he was "discreet" about his own escapades. The book moves along easily, from his difficult childhood in a dysfunctional family to his success as a film actor to his recent years as a respected artist and philanthropist. It's not badly written, though I wish he and his ghost writer would have realized that there are many synonyms for the word "beautiful" - which he used to describe nearly every woman he bedded. I give Mr. Curtis credit for his honesty - often the reader is tempted not to like him much - but he is as tough on himself and his shortcomings as anyone else could possibly be. A highly entertaining book.
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CJS007 More than 1 year ago
As a long time fan this book was a TREAT to read !! Also a huge thank you for confirming that yes Marilyn Monroe and Jeanne Carmen were in fact friends !!

With much love and great respect ,
Cita Shepherd
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