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-Excerpt from Hume Cronyn's book entitled, A Terrible Liar, A Memoir.  Cronyn discusses his encounter with Dean.  He probably needed to take some valium and stress tablets after dealing with Dean:
 

        "...Bear this in mind while I describe an Omnibus show called Glory in the Flower by William Inge.
        Jessica [Tandy] played the central role, and for once escaped being my wife.  My own role was that of the owner of a shabby bar and diner, boasting a jukebox and tiny dance floor.  It catered for the most part to truck drivers and teenagers.  It was a hangout.  As a proprietor anxious not to jeopardize his liquor license, I had to police the joint and make sure there was no underage drinking on the premises.  In one scene, having become aware that four rowdy teenagers were passing a pint bottle among them, I had to confront these kids and demand surrender of the bottle.  The bottle was not forthcoming.  I had to search for it.  All this had been rehearsed and I was supposed to find the bottle in the hip pocket of the young man nearest to me.  At the final technical rehearsal, it wasn't there.  I fumbled about, looking under the table, behind the seat cushions of the booth, under napkins, among the plastic flowers on the table, and then gave up.  The camera stopped rolling.
        "Where is it Jimmy?"
        The young man said, "Why don't you just find it?"
        His tone was a challenge; it implied: "You're supposed to hunt, so hunt-let's make it real."
        I tried to be agreeable.  "Is it worth it?  I think I can act hunting for it."
        The director appeared from the control booth and asked for the bottle.  It was produced from the actor's jeans, stuffed down behind his fly.  The director stuck it back in the actor's hip pocket and told us to proceed.  Time was running out and we still had to do a dress.
        The actor involved was one I'd noticed on our very first reading of the script.  He was blond, thin, handsome and had a very definite presence.  He was also infinitely "laid back": not rude, not quite arrogant but with a manner that said "I'm here-pay attention-and I don't give a damn what you think."  I'd never seen him before and couldn't remember his last name any more than I could those of the other dozen kids.  I was lucky if I remembered their first names.
        We finished the technical rehearsal and it was obvious that we had to plunge into the dress rehearsal with barely time to get into our costumes.  I hate these last-minute rushes.  They leave no time to check the props and none in which to compose oneself.  That clock keeps ticking.  You pray that nothing will go wrong and that you may get a breather before air time.  I remember Jess saying, "Calm down, calm down!"
        We got three quarters of the way through the dress without anything going drastically wrong, and reached a climactic scene on the small, packed dance floor.  A fight broke out and I was supposed to wade into the melee and separate the two principal combatants.  One of these was my cool friend of the bottle incident.  The scene had been very carefully choreographed by the director so that the camera could follow the main action and not be blocked by writhing, closely packed bodies.  There was also the danger that, if the fight was not executed precisely, someone might end up with a bloody nose.
        My cue came and I waded into the heaving sea of humanity and was immediately lost.  I couldn't find the bottle boy with whom I was to have the next exchange of dialogue; he simply wasn't where he was supposed to be.  Where the hell had he gone?  I looked wildly around, pushed people aside, crouched down, stood on tiptoe, but not a sign of him.  Suddenly, a laconic voice from somewhere behind me said, "I'm here."  He may bloody well have been there, but if I crossed to him we would both be out of camera range as well as the light.  I heard a voice from the booth say, "Cut!  Hold it!  I'm coming down."  And I lost my temper.
        Actors rarely know their reputations with crews and casts.  I've known some who considered themselves angels of light, but who are spoken of less than kindly by their fellows.  God forgive me, I may be one of those, but I hope not.  At any rate, I seized the young actor by the arm, whirled him around and pointed to the studio wall clock.
        "See that?  It says twenty-two minutes to air time, and we haven't yet finished the dress.  I don't know about you, but I'd at least like to have time to take a pee before we do this for real.  For Christ's sake be where you're supposed to be!"
        Everyone went into shock.  The young actor tore his arm loose and started to remonstrate.  "I was trying something new.  I wanted to confuse you....You should be confused."
        "I was!  I am!  But I can act confused.  Keep that experimental shit for rehearsal or your drsssing room!  You're not alone out here!"
        At which point the director arrived and said, "Cool it, cool it both of you!  Jimmy, get your ass over here where you belong, and let's get on with it, NOW!"
        In the few minutes' break between dress and showtime, coming out of the men's room, I ran into Jimmy in the hall.  He said quietly, "Mr. Cronyn, I respect your work and you should respect mine.  You shouldn't talk to me like that."
        "You're right Jimmy, I shouldn't, and I apologize.  But it isn't your work or mine.  It's ours.  We're all dependent on one another."
        The show went on without incident, and some weeks later I ran into Jimmy on the street.  In a very uncharacteristic manner he embraced me, and before I'd had a chance to say much of anything, he said, "I forgive you-you were nervous."  To say that I was dumbfounded puts it mildly.  However, we parted. smiling and the best of friends.  I don't believe I ever saw him again-in person.
        Later that year, Kazan and I were again on a boat together, and Gadge gave me a copy of his next film to read.  It was a good script with a wonderful part for a young man.
        "Who's going to play that?" I asked.
        "A new kid, very talented," and he gave me the name.  I suppose my expression or my silence must have betrayed me.
        "What's wrong?"
        "You're going to need all your patience"-and I told him the story of my experience in Glory in the Flower.  It would have been kinder of me to keep my mouth shut, but that's not the way it works between friends.  "He's still very talented," said Gadge, "and we've hired him."  For those of you who haven't already guessed as much, the actor's name was James Dean and the film in question was East of Eden.  It was later, I think, that Jimmy appeared in Rebel Without a Cause, and it was that very quality of "I'm here-pay attention-and I don't give a damn what you think" that served him and both films so well,  Indeed, " rebel without a cause" says it all."
 

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