Schulman admits his successful Hollywood career has kept him fully occupied and away from theater. Consider his roster of credits: "Love with the Proper Stranger," "Goodbye, Columbus," "And the Band Played On."
Still, he is no novice to theater either. His comedy "A Hole in the Head" and the musical version "Golden Rainbow" for which he wrote the book, were successfully were mounted on Broadway. But Schulman's 1963 experience with the short-lived tuner "Jennie" pushed him out of the theater. "Jennie" starred Mary Martin, with book by Schulman, lyrics by Howard Dietz, and music by Arthur Schwartz.
"It was a catastrophe," he recalls. "The book was deplorable, there were only five or six songs, and the audience hated it. We wanted to fix it, but there was a kind of paralysis. No one was allowed to talk to Mary Martin. There were bodyguards outside her dressing room. It was surreal and that's when I decided making movies would be more fun."
Over the decades Schulman encountered dozens of megastars. One of his more vivid accounts centers on meeting Noel Coward. The occasion was Schulman's first play, "My Fiddle Has Two Strings," presented at the Westport Country Playhouse. A great admirer of Lee Strasberg, Schulman insisted the legendary acting teacher direct the comedy despite advice to the contrary from industry insiders.
"Between 'Hello' and 'How are you?,' there were two minutes of sense memory, private moments, and actors working on the feeling of heat," he recalls. "The play was pretentious and people were walking out in droves. I saw Noel Coward and his companion in the audience and I rushed up to eavesdrop. Noel Coward said 'This play should be called, "My Fiddle Has Two Strings-Oy and Vey!"' I started to laugh and said I wrote it. He said, 'Oh, dear,' and apologized in his unique way, adding, 'If you ever get to Jamaica, look me up.' Years later, after 'A Hole in the Head' was on Broadway, I was in Jamaica and the concierge at the hotel said there was a message from Noel Coward. He was sending a car to pick me up for dinner. I don't know how he knew I was there. Theater is a small community."
Winning a Watch
Born in Philadelphia and raised in North Carolina, Schulman sold his first story to a boy's magazine when he was ten, and won a Mickey Mouse watch as a prize. He remembers thinking, "My God, if you can get a Mickey Mouse watch for writing down stuff, that's for me."
After performing his tour of duty in the navy during World War II, Schulman settled in New York to write "the great American novel." But ultimately, he turned his talents to playwriting, studying with Robert Anderson ("Tea and Sympathy") at the American Theatre Wing. "Robert and his wife Phyllis adopted me," Schulman recalls. "I didn't know what fork to use or how to eat an artichoke. They taught me to be a would-be gentleman and Robert taught me how to write a play."
But Anderson did much more than that. Schulman, who lived in a Lower East Side walk up, had no money and frequently no food. On one occasion he was so dizzy from hunger he left class early. "A few hours later Bob comes up five flights of stairs with two bags of groceries for me," he recalls. "The next day in my mail box I discovered an envelope with several one hundred dollar bills. It's unforgettable."
Schulman made an easy transition to writing for live television, modestly insisting that TV was so desperate for writers virtually any scribbler had a shot at it. Nonetheless, he was with the fledgling medium for several years and is still grateful for the training: "You made mistakes and you learned your craft. Two minutes before you went on the air you could be told to cut or add several minutes of dialogue."
Interestingly, his Broadway debut play "A Hole in the Head" started as a teleplay. Shortly thereafter Schulman was writing screenplays. His first feature "Wild Is the Wind," served as his introduction to the world of film divas. Directed by George Cukor, the movie starred Anna Magnani.
"She was different from Mary Martin who just went catatonic on me," says Schulman. "We were on location in Nevada and Anna kept making endless demands, insisting that [producer] Hal Wallis purchase a jeep and shovel and send them to Italy. Why a shovel, I don't know. But that's what she wanted and Hal said no. So, she claimed to be sick and wouldn't come out of her cabin." In the end Wallis capitulated, purchasing the items and dutifully exporting them to Italy.
Still, for the most part Schulman's life in Hollywood was satisfying until 1993 when his assignments dried up. He wrote a series of scripts on spec and despite having had an illustrious career every major agent in town refused to allow a bottom rung reader to take a look at it. Schulman has little doubt that ageism played its role. Not that the current outpouring of action adventure, sci-fi, or special effects reflect is to his liking he adds.
In the years that followed he continued to write plays mostly for his own amusement. But when his grown son was rummaging through the house, and came across "Sleeping Ugly," among other plays, he submitted it to the Santa Monica Playhouse on his father's behalf.
Schulman feels he has come home. "Being back in the theater has gotten my juices flowing again," he says. He adds if were starting out now, he'd be a playwright full time "and starve my ass off." Asked what else he might do differently, he quips, "I'd be tall. I'm 5'3". I want to be 6'3'."
"Sleeping Ugly" will play through June 17, at the Santa Monica Playhouse, 1211 4th St., Santa Monica, CA (310)-394-9779; extension 1 or http://SantaMonicaPlayhouse.com
