Past Issues
A Regular Guy Part II
by Laura Wagner
(continued from July 1998 issue)
The year 1943 featured on the Warner roster
The Desert Song (1943), the studio's first film to perfectly
showcase the musical talent of Dennis Morgan. With his strong
rousing tenor he made his “Red Shadow” come to life.
Based on the Sigmund Romberg/Oscar Hammerstein
II 1926 operetta, The Desert Song was first filmed in 1929
with John Boles and Carlotta King. The piece turned up a third
time (1953) with Gordon MacRae and Kathryn Grayson. This version,
directed with style by Robert Florey, was shrewdly rewritten by
Robert Buckner (Jezebel and Yankee Doodle Dandy)
to make it topical for '40s' audiences. The story (filmed in Gallup,
New Mexico) now has an American entertainer doubling as “El
Kabar -- The Red Shadow,” whom one critic poetically described
as “a masked Robin Hood of the desert.” He helps the
Riffs combat Nazis who are attempting to build a railroad through
the Morocco desert. By updating the story to 1939, Warners succeeded
in making a truly original musical war film.
Dennis' co-star, Irene Manning played 'Margot,”
an American singer who eventually helps with the cause. Manning,
an excellent singer with a theater and opera background, was ideally
cast with Dennis, and they sang the classics “One Alone”
and “The Desert Song” beautifully together. Warners
was not interested in making operettas, so they missed their chance
at repeating the success of the Manning and Morgan teaming.
According to Irene Manning, the idea for The
Desert Song was at Warners since 1938. “For five years
they tested every possible soprano in the USA to play the leading
role ... in The Desert Song,” says Manning, “and
then they finally got around to me, and I turned it down. After
my audition they were interested, but I had a chance to do the
leading role in a new musical called Gentleman Unafraid
by Kern and Hammerstein, and it was going to Broadway.” The
promising show did not reach Broadway as expected. Manning was
rediscovered by Warners singing at the Civic Light Opera and would
appear in The Big Shot (1942) and Yankee Doodle Dandy
(1942) for the studio. The Desert Song was already in production
when she redid her audition. Luckily for Warners, they had decided
to wait for her to join the cast, her patrician beauty mixing
well with Dennis' virile charm. The Desert Song was made
a full year before it was finally released in December '43.
“Dennis was just a marvelous person,”
raves Manning. “I enjoyed working with him, and I also became
good friends with him and his wife. He was a wonderful person
and an excellent singer. Of all the people I ever worked with,
Dennis and James Cagney -- those two just stand out. Absolutely
tops!”
Dennis was definitely hitting his stride at
Warners, and his films did extremely well. He was an engaging
romantic presence in his films, and in his next he was given not
only one of his best romantic films, but also one of his best
screen partners. To be sure, The Very Thought of You (1944)
is a very bittersweet film. There is a rough road for our two
lovebirds, Dennis and stunning Eleanor Parker. Her family, for
one thing, is out to break up their marriage, but as The New
York Times related: “At the end of 99 minutes spent with
one of the most quarrelsome and obnoxious families the screen
has spawned in some time, love emerges triumphant.”
The wonderful love scenes in The Very Thought
of You have the sweet poignance of wartime romance. The war
separates them, but their love triumphs. It's an unheralded gem.
An interesting footnote to this film: in the scene where Dennis
and Eleanor sit talking in a car, they listen to the lilting title
song on the radio. The singer sounds very much like --- Dennis
Morgan!
Making her film debut in The Very Thought
of You was a talented newcomer named Andrea King, playing
Eleanor's sister who's out to cause trouble. The still beautiful
Andrea King remembers her co-star (of three pictures) on this
first movie as being “very warm and very generous. [He was]
very 'welcome, welcome -- I know you've just been put under contract.'
Just a charming man ... He was such fun -- just like his smile!
Nothing disturbed him. He was . . . very professional. I mean,
when they called action -- he was right with it. I adored him.
We used to have lunch together at the Lakeside Country Club --
Ann Sheridan, Dennis, and Jack Carson.”
Back to musicals, because fan response warranted
it, Dennis teamed again with good friend Ann Sheridan for the
glorious Shine On Harvest Moon (Warner, 1944), which also
featured Irene Manning and Jack Carson again. Dennis plays songwriter
Jack Norworth, and Ann is musical comedy star Nora Bayes, who
strike it big in vaudeville. It's one of the best musicals of
the '40s, with its fine, mostly fictional, script by Sam Hellman.
The film has some choice moments: Sheridan's
fun “How Do They Know I'm Irish?”; Dennis and Ann dueting
on “I Go for You”; and the touching ending. In the film,
Ann is being blackballed by former boss Robert Shayne because
she refuses his advances. When she and Dennis marry, jobs become
scarce because Shayne starts buying up theater chains. Hoping
Dennis can do better alone, Ann leaves him. Dennis becomes distraught
until one night Sheridan catches one of his performances in a
burlesque house. Singing “Shine On, Harvest Moon,” with
his voice faltering, and looking every bit the broken man, Dennis
is a pathetic sight on stage. Suddenly, Ann shows herself. Invigorated
by the sight of his lady, he belts out a song, as she joins him
on stage, singing. There is a quick cut to the stage of The
Follies of 1907, where they both sing a medley of songs. A
tuneful and fun musical all the way -- with plenty of heart.
Veteran “B” movie director Robert
Florey again showed himself a fine director when he helmed Dennis'
next, the controversial World War II drama, God Is My Co-Pilot
(1945), which began filming three days after The Very Thought
of You. Based on the book by Flying Tigers pilot Col. Robert
Lee Scott, the story tells of his exploits fighting the Japanese
invasion of China. Dennis gave an excellent showing of himself,
turning in a thoughtful performance. In the film, Col. Scott,
a non-believer described as a “one man Air Force,” is
challenged by a missionary (Alan Hale), who tells him that our
lives depend on God, just as a pilot depends on his co-pilot.
In addition to the religious message, there
are many exciting scenes of aerial combat, directed with verve
by Florey. Richard Loo makes a nasty nemesis, as he contests the
sky with Dennis. Fascinating beauty Andrea King, this time Morgan's
leading lady, has a thankless role (she filmed all her scenes
in one day) as the Colonel's wife, suffering at home while her
man is away.
One of Dennis' favorite movies was Christmas
In Connecticut (1945), co-starring with Barbara Stanwyck.
A favorite classic on television today, it's an unpretentious
romantic comedy. Dennis told author Doug McClelland in “Forties
Film Talk”: “It was a good script, and Peter Godfrey
was a fine director.” Of his leading lady, Dennis said, “Although
people today seem to think of Barbara as a dramatic actress, she
was also a very good comedienne. We worked well together.”
Well, indeed. Their screen chemistry is very
strong. When Stanwyck greets the newly arrived Dennis for the
first time, a spark ignites as she coos, “Merry Christmas,
Mr. Jones.” Later, they have some lovely scenes together,
especially when they ride in a horse drawn carriage. “Where
should we go?” asks Dennis. “Where do you generally
go in your dreams?” she responds wistfully. This is the kind
of scene that makes us cherish the classics.
The story has Barbara writing for a magazine
headed by Sidney Greenstreet, whose motto is “print the truth
and obey my orders.” The trouble is that Barbara, who is
depicted as “the perfect housewife, cook and mother,”
is none of those things; she writes her recipe column with help
of her chef friend (S.Z. Sakall). For the holidays, Greenstreet,
smelling publicity, invites a serviceman (Dennis) and himself
to Christmas dinner with Barbara and her “perfect family,”
which she must now produce. In the course of this delightful farce,
Dennis even gets to show his vocal ability by singing “Oh,
Little Town of Bethlehem” and a new song written by Jack
Scholl and M.K. Jerome, “The Wish That I Wish Tonight,”
a beautiful song mirroring the couple's feelings for each other.
Reviews were generally good, with The New
York Times commenting that “[Dennis] is in there smiling
his engaging best.” This Christmas fare, released in July
of all months, was Warner's biggest moneymaker of the year. It
was later remade for tv, but the sparks that flew in the original
were not evident in the remake. Besides the undeniable romantic
touch Dennis and Barbara gave the proceedings, the stars both
showed deft comic touches.
A dreary, One More Tomorrow (1946) cast
Dennis in a role originally handed Leslie Howard in The Animal
Kingdom (1932). Neither version was very interesting. The
original was over-sexed and heavy handed, while this one was simply
flat. Based on the Phillip Barry play, it had “poor”
Ann Sheridan and wealthy Dennis in love, he knowing it before
she does. In the meantime, he marries money-hungry Alexis Smith
and almost loses sight of his humanity, before realizing where
he really belongs. The romantic title song (by Ernesto Lecuona,
Eddie De Lange, and Josef Myrow) was an added plus, although not
sung by Dennis. Jack Carson was cast as Dennis' butler buddy,
and Jane Wyman was sadly wasted as Ann's friend. Although the
cast was likable, they couldn't save a dull script.
Happily, a better movie arrived with Two
Guys From Milwaukee (1946) -- the first official teaming of
Dennis and Jack Carson. Their timing and rapport was fine tuned
in four prior films, and led to a lasting genuine friendship off
screen.
Jack is a taxi driver, engaged to Joan Leslie,
who befriends a European prince (Dennis) who wants to have fun
as a “normal person” in Brooklyn for 24 hours, before
returning to his princely duties. He changes his name, pretends
to be from Milwaukee, and falls in love with Joan, who's also
interested. Soon, Dennis sees how democracy works in America and
plans to bring it back to his country for a try.
Of course, the whole movie is fun, with Dennis
and Jack performing at ease with each other. They did so, according
to co-star Joan Leslie, off screen as well. “Carson and Morgan
were like a couple of kids at play,” Joan happily recalled.
“When they worked, they would tease each other, play jokes
on each other all the time. A lot of times, they would take off
for lunch and go over to Lakeside Golf Club, which is just across
the way [from Warners], and maybe they would tee off or maybe
they would have lunch. They'd dawdle over lunch, and sometimes
they wouldn't come back at the end of the hour. The director [David
Butler] would say, 'Do you know where they are?' I'd say, 'No,
I don't know where they are!' And they would call Lakeside --
and they would say, 'No, they're not here,' and after two hours,
they came in the big soundstage door, eating ice cream cones -
'Oh! Were you looking for us?!' That's the kind of thing they
did, and who could get mad at that? Who could fire the two movie
stars when they come walking in like that, being so darn cute!
I think that happened more than once!”
Not messing with success, Warners gave the team
a musical, The Time, the Place, and the Girl (1946) to
show off, not only Dennis' fine voice, but also Jack Carson and
Janis Paige, as well. It was a bright and very pleasing musical
comedy, possessing a tuneful and popular score by Arthur Schwartz
and Leo Robin: “Oh But I Do,” “A Rainy Night in
Rio,” “A Gal in Calico,” “Through a Thousand
Dreams,” “A Solid Citizen of the Solid South,”
and “I Happened to Walk Down First Street.”
The fun script was done by Francis Swann, Agnes
Christine Johnston, and Lynn Starling. It's a lighthearted story
of nightclub owners Morgan and Carson, who are forced to shut
down because next door neighbor Florence Bates, a former classical
singer, can't handle the noise. Her sheltered niece, the pretty
and vivacious Martha Vickers, also sings the classics, but she
almost immediately falls for the smooth swing-oriented Morgan.
In a romantic scene, Dennis sings “Oh But I Do” to her
on a crowded dance floor, sweeping the sopranic miss off her feet.
Kicked out of their club, the boys decide to
put on a Broadway show, which is financed by Vickers' uncle (S.Z.
Sakall). In the course of this swing vs. classical romp, which
produces some laughs, the songs are wonderful and the playing
is energetic. Anyone who accuses Dennis Morgan of being wooden
should watch him in the production number, “I Happened to
Walk Down First Street.” He is relaxed and having fun --
which is what this sparkling musical is all about.
Dennis' two 1947 releases were vastly different.
Cheyenne (retitled The Wyoming Kid for tv), was
set in 1867 and had Dennis as a card shark who is forced into
unmasking a robber named “The Poet” to save himself
from jail. Dennis' romantic interest is Jane Wyman, who just happens
to be married to “The Poet,” and there is a nice competitive
edge to their relationship. In fact, they fight continually within
the film. Stuck together for the night in an old cabin and sleeping
next to each other, Dennis playfully mocks, “Put your foot
where it belongs!” Wyman growls back, “Don't tempt me!”
The film did not do well with critics, moviegoers,
or the players, who all seemed to agree to dislike it. Seen today,
the film is pleasant entertainment, with winning interpretations
from all the cast members including Bruce Bennett, Janis Paige
(who gets to sing two songs), and Alan Hale. Dennis is in fine
masculine “jaunty” (The New York Times) western
hero form, and he is totally believable with his quick draws.
Alan Hale is right when he comments about Dennis: “He [doesn't]
look like a man you can stop easy.”
Where Cheyenne failed, My Wild Irish
Rose scored, doing incredible business. It remains Dennis'
most popular and best remembered film, and was one of his personal
favorites. Filled with great Irish songs (“My Nellie's Blue
Eyes” is just one highlight), Dennis plays real life Irish
balladeer Chauncey Olcott. Whether the screenplay (by Peter Milne)
was fact or fiction, it mattered not. The movie was a joy from
start to finish. Dennis, solidifying his Irish screen image, is
in perfect form -- his singing renewing the traditional songs
for another generation. The cast is superb, with the luminous
Arlene Dahl making an enchanting film debut as the colleen who
wins Dennis' heart. Another standout is Andrea King showing poise
as a commanding Lillian Russell (Virginia Bruce was originally
set), who helps Olcott by giving him a job singing opposite her.
Sara Allgood turns in an affecting portrait as Olcott's mother,
and in the film's most touching moment, Dennis sings “Mother
Machree” to her. Yet, the best is “A Little Bit of Heaven,”
where Dennis wins over a hostile audience who paid to see another
singer -- William J. Scanlan (played with emotion by William Frawley).
As the yelling audience hushes, and Dennis' clear tenor soars
with this lovely song, we understand why My Wild Irish Rose
scored heavily with viewers.
Andrea King revealed an off-camera tidbit that
tells much about Dennis' sterling character. “Everyone fell
in love with him. There were a few temptations at the studio,”
King commented. “Nothing serious -- everybody fell in love
with him. Arlene Dahl . . . she had a crush on him. Dennis was
smitten, but nothing came of it. His family came first. He was
a good boy!”
After the success of My Wild Irish Rose,
Dennis had the idea of doing the life story of Scottish poet/minstrel
Robert Burns, but as he told Doug McClelland years later, that
idea was nixed by the studio. “A writer friend and I got
together on a treatment for a biographical film about Burns,”
recalled Dennis. “I told him, 'You better make it interesting
enough to convince [Jack] Warner.' And he made it very interesting.
I hoped I would be able to star as Robert Burns ... When Jack
Warner read our synopsis, he called me into his office. 'We can't
make this,' he said. 'The American public will think we've done
a movie about a cigar!'”
With this disappointment behind him, Dennis
took over a role originally written by Richard Brooks as a vehicle
for Humphrey Bogart in To the Victor (1948). To quote Dennis'
co-star, Viveca Lindfors, “The character was much tougher
than the sort that Dennis, a wonderful, warm fellow, was used
to playing.” Despite criticism about this against type role,
some think Dennis handled himself well. There is much emotional
depth in his characterization, and To the Victor counts
as one of Dennis' best dramatic opportunities.
The taut story deals with Lindfors' decision
to testify against her husband, who betrayed France to the Nazis
during World War II. Dennis is an ex-soldier/blackmailer who falls
in love with this woman with a shady past. In Louella Parsons'
“In Hollywood” column shortly after the movie's release,
Dennis explained about the making of the picture: “To
the Victor is really a semi-documentary story, and we made
the real shots in Paris. I was afraid that Delmar Daves, our director,
would lose us in his eagerness to put Paris on the screen. We
had to cut a lot, because he shot so much.” Of his Swedish-born
leading lady, Dennis raved, “I think she's one of the most
beautiful women I've ever seen and an excellent actress. She enjoyed
working with me because I talked Swedish to her.”
From a serious drama to another cheerful movie
co-starring again with buddy Jack Carson, Two Guys From Texas
(1948). The two guys were having fun, as usual, in a plot that
had them as traveling vaudevillians who get stranded in the Lone
Star state. Just an excuse, of course, to meet up with two beautiful
women (Dorothy Malone and Penny Edwards) and sing a new batch
of (soon-to-be-a-hit) songs written by Jule Styne and Sammy Cahn:
“Every Day I Love You Just a Little Bit More,” “Hankerin',”
“I Don't Care If It Rains All Night,” and “I Wanna
Be a Cowboy in the Movies.” This romance among the tumbleweeds
is spirited and funny, and Dennis' voice never sounded better,
as he tries to woo sweet Dorothy Malone. The plot is slight, but
the cast, the music, and the comedy make this David Butler-directed
film a delight.
Again with Dorothy Malone as his leading lady,
Dennis remade 1941's The Strawberry Blonde and turned it
into One Sunday Afternoon (1948), which in turn was the
title of the original 1933 version. Both the 1941 and 1948 movies
were directed by Raoul Walsh. With music added, this one is a
treat, and arguably better than the previous films. The strawberry
blonde everyone is after is Janis Paige who marries Don DeFore
much to Dennis' regret. He “settles” for sweet home-oriented
Malone, whom he finally realizes is the right girl for him.
The songs by Ralph Blane were lovely, especially
Dennis' rendering of “Amy, You're a Little Bit Old-Fashioned,”
and Malone singing “Girls Were Made to Take Care of Boys.”
The older “In My Merry Oldsmobile” by Vincent Bryan
and Gus Edwards showed off the talents of all the leading players
and was a spirited number staged by LeRoy Prinz. Dennis has a
marvelous moment, in the beginning, when he sings the title tune;
setting the tone for a highly enjoyable musical.
It's a Great Feeling (1949), Dennis'
following movie, came about when Jack Warner promised theaters
a new “Two Guys” film would be released with Dennis
Morgan and Jack Carson. In fact, he had already booked the film
... without a script in hand. He called upon writers Mel Shavelson
and Jack Rose to quickly come up with a suitable script. According
to author Ted Sennett, they approached director David Butler with
their idea: “Since there's no time to build new sets, we'll
have Morgan and Carson play themselves, making a movie at the
studio. They discover Doris Day, who is a waitress in the commissary,
and put her in the movie. We can have all the Warner Bros. stars
do walk-ons.” The plot was approved by everyone, but then
Warner found a problem. Dennis had been on suspension, and in
the meantime, his contract had expired. Desperate, Warner Bros.
ended up giving Dennis a new contract with a much higher salary.
Again, the songs were by Jule Styne and Sammy
Cahn, and they outdid themselves with the lovely ballad, “Blame
My Absent Minded Heart,” sung by Dennis and Doris Day. The
story has Doris pretending to be “Yvonne Amour,” a French
musical star set to appear in Jack Carson's production of Mademoiselle
Fifi with Dennis. The complications that arise are amusing, making
this a fun view of moviemaking at a major studio.
After this big hit, It's a Great Feeling
was followed by The Lady Takes a Sailor (1949), co-starring
with Jane Wyman for a final time on screen. It wasn't the best
film they ever made, but a little better than its reputation.
Called The Octopus and Miss Smith during production, Jane
plays a woman who has built her whole life on the truth. As director
of a buyer's research institute, she is a very respected woman,
but when she tells everyone she took a ride in a one man submarine/undersea
tractor with a mysterious man who claims he is researching worms,
she is held up to ridicule. It is up to her to clear her name
by finding the man (Dennis) to support her story. The lightweight
comedy is saved by the cast, which in addition includes Eve Arden
(dryly quipping as usual), Tom Tully, and Allyn Joslyn, who commented
to author Lawrence Quirk that he thought director Michael Curtiz
wasn't interested in making the picture. “I felt his mind
was elsewhere all through it,” remarked Joslyn. “Mike
was a dynamo usually, but he seemed to slink through this one
with a hangdog air, as if Jack Warner were punishing him for something
or other. And the results showed it.” Box office showed it,
as well.
The 1950s started not too promising for Dennis.
He remained a top star, but his films were slowly declining in
quality and were greeted with mixed response by his fans. This,
according to Lillian Morner, Dennis' widow, was done on purpose.
“Jack Warner wanted to break his contract and he would send
him these terrible scripts,” she remarked.
Perfect Strangers (1950) reteamed him
with Ginger Rogers as they played jurors who fall in love during
a trial. Their chemistry was not dulled by the years, and it's
the best of his '50s' films scriptwise. He was stuck with Betsy
Drake in Pretty Baby (1950), an overly cute tale of a girl
(Drake) who carries a doll pretending it's a real baby to get
a seat on the subway. Off camera seemed more interesting than
the plot when Cary Grant (who was filming MGM's Crisis) visited.
“At the time, [Betsy Drake] was married to Cary Grant,”
remembered Lillian, “and Cary would come there to pick her
up and watch the moviemaking. He was a little jealous of my husband
playing opposite her. He wanted to do movies with her only.”
Raton Pass (1951) is dreadful viewing,
with usually reliable Patricia Neal as the power hungry wife of
rancher Morgan, who ultimately betrays him for greater wealth.
Neal acts demented throughout and with good reason: “I didn't
want to do that [movie] at all,” Patricia Neal explained.
“Eleanor [Parker] was smart to turn that part down. I wish
I had!” One consolation for Neal was that: “I liked
Dennis. He was a nice man.”
Dennis' part was weak and not very focused,
but he does get one delightful moment in the beginning. At his
wedding to Neal, he breaks out in song for the guests; too bad
the rest of the film wasn't as spontaneous. The ending of this
western says it all. The battle for land is over, and Dorothy
Hart consoles Dennis with this profound thought: “It is good
to forgive, but better to forget.” She was obviously speaking
for the cast members.
Thankfully, Dennis was back to musicals with
Painting the Clouds With Sunshine (1951), again directed
by David Butler. The story centers on Las Vegas showgirls Virginia
Mayo, Virginia Gibson, and Lucille Norman looking for millionaires.
Same old story, but boosted by a great cast that also featured
Gene Nelson. The score was made up of great old (mostly Warner
Bros.) songs, and that helped a great deal in making an enjoyable
light movie.
Dennis' last two films for Warner Bros. fizzled.
He was given a great star, Joan Crawford, to act with in This
Woman Is Dangerous (1952), but that's all. The scripting was
muddled, with murder, jealousy, and delicate eye surgery sharing
100 minutes of pure torture. Crawford plays an ex-convict involved
with shady dealings who finds her eyesight is failing. She goes
out of town to have surgery, performed by dedicated doctor Morgan,
while her rough boy friend (David Brian, who else?) stews. There's
a lot of kibitzing about her eyes, and soon she and Dennis are
in love. Brian, meanwhile at home, has suspicions. The movie is
just too much. The simple story of Joan and her relationship with
Dennis and his little daughter would have sufficed, but the added
melodramatic mayhem bogged everything else down. Dennis comes
across as strong and determined, but little else. A lot of talent
... wasted.
Cattle Town (1952) was no better. Dennis'
contract with Warners was in its final stages, and since he was
the highest salaried actor at the studio, Jack Warner sent him
the worst script he could muster -- it had to be rejected. He
wanted to suspend Dennis for the remaining time on his contract.
Only it didn't work. To everyone's surprise, Dennis accepted the
dreadful screenplay. Why? “Do you think I'm going to pass
up my salary?” responded the very practical star.
With Noel Smith directing, Dennis is called
on to stop a cattle war (“The state of Texas sure spoils
a lot of fun for me,” complains Denny when called to duty).
This slim plot is stretched out to 71 minutes with heavy padding
by the director. There are numerous songs by Dennis, which are
usually welcome, but here come across as irritating. One unintentionally
funny moment occurs when Dennis starts singing in a clearing to
Rita Moreno and some settlers. Two men (and a group behind them)
are ready to sneak attack, when one of them wearily complains,
“There he is ... singing ... again!” The whole movie
is sloppily done, complete with footage of the great barroom fight
from Dodge City (1938) thrown in. Quick action poses of
Dennis inserted into the fight make this scene absurd. There's
even what seems to be an outtake. In the middle of the fight,
a bad guy sneers to Dennis, “Aren't you biting off more than
you can chew?” Dennis looks at him and laughs, saying, “That's
a fine thing to be telling a Texas Irishman!” With that,
they both laugh as Dennis strolls back into the fight!
The best, however, is the scene Ted Sennett
describes in his book on Jack Warner, “Clown Prince of Hollywood,”
on the final cattle stampede, meant to be the climax of the movie:
“Cattle Town was undistinguished except for what may
have been the longest cattle drive in film history. The town itself
had been built on Stage 7, and the script called for herds of
livestock to rampage through it. A hundred steers and cows were
assembled in the street outside. The north stage door opened,
and the cattle were raced through the western street and out the
south door. Then the herd was directed around the stage and into
the north door again. The cattle continued their loop until the
set was almost demolished.”
Dennis was off screen in late 1952 to 1955.
Much of this time was spent doing tv work on such shows as G.E.
Theatre, Pepsi Cola Playhouse, Fireside Theatre, Ford Theatre,
Stage 7, and Best of Broadway.
In 1955, Dennis wanted very badly to star in
20th Century-Fox's production of A Man Called Peter, about
the Reverend Peter Marshall who became U.S. Senate chaplain. “It
was a shame he wasn't allowed to play in A Man Called Peter,”
Lillian laments. “Catherine Marshall [Peter's widow] herself
wanted him to play him, and our minister at our church tried to
help [him get the role]. They all couldn't get over his resemblance
-- he just looked like Peter Marshall. [Fox] wouldn't even give
him an audition.” Richard Todd was cast in the part.
It seems no one took Dennis seriously in Hollywood
for dramatic roles, even though he proved himself capable in the
few serious movies given him. He had the image of the smiling
Irishman working against him. The roles he was offered in the
'50s were frivolous, and he did them solely for the money. Dennis
didn't foresee a future in films, and besides, it didn't matter
much. He had a loving homelife, a working ranch, and a firm belief
in God to see him through.
Virginia Mayo, who starred in Painting the
Clouds With Sunshine and Pearl of the South Pacific
with Dennis, remembers him very fondly. “Dennis was a really
lovely person” Virginia reminisced. “We went to the
same church [Hollywood Presbyterian] at the time. We did a play
at the church that the minister had written about people in the
Bible and excerpts from their lives. He was in it, my husband
[Michael O'Shea] was in it, and Rhonda Fleming went to that church.
She was in it.
“He was a very wonderful, lovely person.
A very good man, very conscientious about religion. I loved him
very much. He was a darling person. He and his wife were very
devoted.”
Dennis' last real western was The Gun That
Won the West (1955), made at Columbia. It was an extremely
dull western where the Indians stole the show. Directed by, of
all people, William Castle, it touted -- throughout -- the need
for Springfield rifles (the guns that won the West), but they
don't see real action until the closing minutes of the movie.
Nor does Dennis see real action, and although he looks great in
buckskin -- he doesn't get the girl, pretty Paula Raymond. She
has a drunken husband, Richard Denning, who suddenly reforms for
her. Surprisingly, it's a film Paula Raymond liked: “It was
a very pleasant experience. I was so sorry at the time that I
was getting out of my contract at Columbia because that was the
first good part I was given at that studio with Dennis Morgan
and Richard Denning. I was so sorry that I went back to my husband
[in the movie] instead of “settling” for Dennis Morgan,”
laughs Raymond. “He had a beautiful voice, an underrated
talent,” Paula added.
This was followed by two truly awful movies:
Pearl of the South Pacific (1955) for RKO and Uranium
Boom (1956) made at Columbia with Patricia Medina, again directed
by William Castle. These did no one any good, and Dennis returned
to the small screen for better chances. He did Star Stage,
Telephone Time, Alfred Hitchcock Presents, and briefly had
his own series 21 Beacon Street in 1959.
The 1960s had more tv (Saints and Sinners
and Dick Powell Theatre) and a new role would develop
with the loss of a great friend.
“When Jack Carson died of cancer [in 1963],”
says Lillian, “my husband was very active in fighting cancer.
He spoke all over the country.” Spurred by his best buddy's
untimely death, Dennis became the traveling spokesman for “The
American Cancer Society” for many years, giving lectures
to raise money in memory of his friend, Carson.
In 1968 Dennis was seen in Rogue's Gallery
(Paramount), a crime yarn originally made for television but released
theatrically. There was also a spot on tv's Petticoat Junction
that same year.
However, films were no longer a top priority
in the life of Dennis Morgan and his family. He lived comfortably
from his years as a movie actor but opted to retire from that
medium (except for a bit in 1972's Won Ton Ton, The Dog That
Saved Hollywood). Instead, when not lecturing for the Cancer
Society, he performed on stage back home in Wisconsin -- just
because he enjoyed doing it. He never forgot his old hometown
and visited whenever he could.
He made several appearances with the Campus
Community Players at the University of Wisconsin Center, located
in Marshfield-Wood County, in the '70s. Dennis did Paint Your
Wagon and The Pleasure of His Company twice.
To the locals of Wisconsin he was an unchanged
man. Dennis was as humble as he was when he was a young man just
starting out. When Dennis passed away on September 7, 1994 (of
a heart attack), the newspaper The Park Falls Herald paid
tribute to him: “Morgan and his wife spent summers in the
Lac du Flambeau area. He was a good friend of Mike Aschenbrener,
[who] owned The Tower Bar and Restaurant there and said Morgan
would join in with the organist and sing a few tunes.” Other
remembrances said Dennis would put on a pair of boots and help
make cheese. Said Aschenbrener: “That's the kind of guy he
was. As famous as he was, he was still down to earth.”
Dennis' last tv appearance was on The Love
Boat in 1980, which reunited him with Jane Wyman after many
years. At the time of the making of this show, Dennis told Bob
Thomas of The Associated Press what he was doing: “I have
a ranch between Fresno and Yosemite where I spend a lot of time.
I travel for the cancer society, and I do an occasional play;
I filled in for Pat O'Brien in Chicago when he got sick a few
years ago.” In short: he was a happy man.
Joan Leslie remembered the last time she saw
her old co-star. It was at “The American Cinema Awards”
in 1989 that benefited the Motion Picture Country Home and Hospital.
“We sat together and visited, and I can't tell you when I've
enjoyed anything so much; we were poking each other and laughing.
It was Bette Davis who was honored that night. She received her
award and said, 'Let's sing a chorus of Auld Lange Syne' -- which
was a charming idea! No one ever thought of something like that.
All of us ex-movie stars were there, and she got us to sing it,
and here I was standing next to Dennis Morgan with his magnificent
tenor voice singing out Auld Lange Syne with all the heart you
can imagine. It was very warming, and he said, 'I've got to go
back and see Bette.' And he did, and she greeted him very warmly.
That is the last memory I have of being with him -- at that dinner.”
Very few top stars are remembered with such
affection as Dennis Morgan. He was a genuinely nice man who knew
what was important in life. He was never believed the “movie
star” nonsense. Dennis liked to act, but his family was more
important. He was a rarity in Hollywood -- a faithful husband
and family man who sang in church every Sunday and often served
as lector.
He projected these things into his screen image.
He was a regular guy on and off screen. Audiences have always
responded to that when they watched the charm and easy-going manner
of Dennis Morgan. Early in his career he said, “It's not
the easiest thing in the world to be a success in Hollywood and
still be the ordinary husband and father.” It might not have
been easy, but he succeeded. A more likable fellow never existed
on screen. It's nice to know Dennis Morgan was really like that
in real life.
***
I wish to thank the following actresses who very graciously
talked about Dennis Morgan: Joan Leslie, Andrea King, Virginia
Mayo, Paula Raymond, Irene Manning, and Patricia Neal. I am also
greatly indebted to Dennis' widow, Lillian, for her generous contribution
to this two-part article. Thanks to: Dan Van Neste, Marvin Paige,
Doug McClelland, Hal Snelling, and most importantly -- Dorothy
Mann for lending me some material from her collection on Dennis.
FEATURE FILMS OF DENNIS MORGAN
1936: I Conquer The Sea; Suzy; The Great Ziegfeld; Piccadilly
Jim; Down the Stretch; Old Hutch; Annie Laurie (short).
1937: Song of the City; Mama Steps Out; Navy, Blue and
Gold.
1938: Persons in Hiding; Illegal Traffic; Men With Wings;
King of Alcatraz.
1939: Waterfront; Return of Doctor X; No Place to Go.
1940: Three Cheers For the Irish; The Fighting 69th; Tear
Gas Squad; Flight Angels; River's End; Kitty Foyle; The Singing
Dude (short); March on Marines (short); Ride, Cowboy, Ride (short).
1941: Affectionately Yours; Bad Men of Missouri; Kisses
For Breakfast.
1942: Captains of the Clouds; In This Our Life; Wings For
the Eagle; The Hard Way.
1943: Thank Your Lucky Stars; The Desert Song.
1944: The Very Thought of You; Hollywood Canteen (cameo);
Shine On Harvest Moon.
1945: God Is My Co-Pilot; Christmas In Connecticut.
1946: One More Tomorrow; Two Guys From Milwaukee; The Time,
The Place and The Girl.
1947: Cheyenne; My Wild Irish Rose; Always Together (cameo)
1948: To the Victor; Two Guys From Texas; One Sunday Afternoon
1949: It's a Great Feeling; The Lady Takes a Sailor
1950: Perfect Strangers; Pretty Baby
1951: Raton Pass; Painting the Clouds With Sunshine
1952: This Woman Is Dangerous; Cattle Town.
1955: Pearl of the South Pacific; The Gun That Won the
West
1956: Uranium Boom.
1968: Rogue's Gallery
1972: Won Ton Ton, The Dog That Saved Hollywood (cameo)¥