Basil Rathbone: Master of Stage and Screen

"I met Basil Rathbone once when he was promoting his autobiography in a local store's book department. I mentioned THE COMEDY OF TERRORS, which I love. He never forgave me . . . "

In a letter to author J.C. Trewin, Aileen Wyse told a story about something that happened during a performance of Paolo and Francesca in 1915. This was when Rathbone was with Frank Benson's company. Basil and Florence Glossup-Harris played the title characters.

At the end of the play the two bodies were discovered on a bier, upon a rostrum up-stage. Four men had to carry the bier down to the centre of the stage, for Giovanni's last speech. For some reason unknown, nothing would induce Benson to rehearse the last scene. ... Rathbone is a big man, and Florence Glossup-Harris was very tall. I was playing old blind Angela downstage R., half facing the audience. Benson had his back to the audience, facing the bier. Suddenly I saw his face absolutely livid. There was the extraordinary sound of a large audience all drawing in breath at the same moment. And through the corner of my eye I saw the four pall bearers almost apoplectic in their efforts to keep the bier level. As they came down the steps it was too much for them. It gradually slipped, and Paolo and Francesca, their arms linked together in an effort to keep straight, slid off the bier on to the middle of the stage, exactly like a couple of plaice off a dish. And to the eternal honour of that audience, there was never a sound from them until the curtain came down. When it cam down, Benson said, "That scene should have been rehearsed!" And rehearsed it was, for the next hour.

Basil Rathbone, motion picture actor, changed his occupation to detective yesterday long enough to capture a man he suspected of stealing from him, and then helped Hollywood detectives chase the suspect several blocks when he tried to escape.

The story starts with the discharge by Rathbone of Robert Lee Sapp, 29-year-old butler, some time ago when Rathbone began missing some money, jewelry and clothing. He hired another butler. This week he discovered that the new butler was harboring Sapp in his quarters at Rathbone's residence, 5254 Los Feliz Boulevard, and he fired him, he told officers. Yesterday Rathbone found Sapp in the butler's quarters while the present servant was away, pushed him into a room and locked the door. He called the police.

Meanwhile Sapp had jumped two stories to the ground and began running as Radio Officers Johnson and Fitzpatrick and Detective Lieutenants Smith and Maney arrived. Rathbone and his secretary, Harry Dausman, joined the officers in pursuing Sapp and finally captured him at Harvard Boulevard and Russell Street.

Sapp was booked on suspicion of burglary at Hollywood Police Station, Dausman was treated at Hollywood Receiving Hospital for lacerations received climbing fences in the case, and Rathbone returned to his dramatic pursuits.

Ann Sheridan told a reporter about an embarrassing moment at one of the Rathbone parties:

There was Ouida Bergere Rathbone's last party. You've heard of Ouida, haven't you? She's the red-headed wife of Basil Rathbone. Her parties are the best in town, but once she had foul luck because it poured when she threw a big shindig. We've now nicknamed her "The Rain Maker."

Anyway, at her last get-together, the wooden dance floor was built out over the terrace, and at the extreme end there was a dip. Well, I was dancing with Cesar Romero, and he was feeling good, and he started a very fancy adagio. He worked me toward that dig in the floor, and as I landed on it, I slipped, my high heel caught inside my dress�and rip!�whew!�a yard of the dress gone, right up the back. I was half nude, and all of Hollywood was staring at me. My face became redder than my hair. But I just stood there, learning a lesson in poise, while the Japanese maid came over, and right on the floor, sewed me decent.

I met Basil Rathbone at a college presentation when I was a junior in high school. After going to the wrong building, and being soaked through the rain, we arrived as Basil Rathbone was entering the stage. Of course, his readings from the great poets, naturally including the Bard, were flawless, invigorating, and hypnotic. All of this was due to that VOICE and his demeanor. Following the ovation, as he was being escorted out he noticed me at the doorway. He paused, looked at me, and commented, �My boy, you need some dry clothes.� I staggered, �Mr. Rathbone, seeing you was worth the drenching.� With that he winked, patted me on the cheek, and was whisked away. I got an autographed photo, which eventually was lost, with so much of my precious paraphernalia. However, my remembrance of his sweetness and unique talent have never left. �Things� come and go but kind recollections stay.

I am an old man now, 75, as BR was when he died, so I can appreciate greatly the enthusiasm had for this unparalleled artist, who truly belonged to another age and period. I am so glad he spanned that time to be with us.

Larry Clifton

Basil Rathbone and his wife gave a party for some Hollywood friends. When dinner was over, Mrs. Rathbone announced that her husband would play for the guests. When the guests had been seated, however, Rathbone pleaded that he wasn't in the mood. He begged to be excused while he took a walk in the garden. He returned in a half hour, a serene expression on his face. The guests sat up expectantly as he strode into the room. Rathbone waited until they had quieted down, then walked over over to the phonograph and played it for them!

This anecdote concerns the friendship that Basil Rathbone had with tenor Richard Tauber. Tauber's widow, Diana Napier, gave a journalist the following story:

In his autobiography, Basil Rathbone wrote about his reunion with Corporal Tanner, sixteen years after they had served together in the first world war. The year was 1934, and Rathbone had appeared with Katharine Cornell at the Paramount theater in Toledo, Ohio. He was surprised to learn that his former army buddy had become a policeman in Toledo. They arranged to meet at the Commodore Perry Hotel, and the press reported about the reunion. Here is one newspaper clipping from December 1934. "Tanner" is misidentified as "Turner."

Lieut. Basil Rathbone Meets His Old Sergeant in Toledo

Basil Rathbone, English actor, and Patrolman Ray Turner of the Toledo, Ohio, police force, met for the first time since they served together in the World War sixteen years ago, when Rathbone appeared with Katharine Cornell in that city recently. Rathbone was a second lieutenant and Turner a sergeant in the Liverpool Scotties of the British forces.
�You taught me all I ever knew about the army,� the actor told the policeman.
�Well, you didn't know much about it when you came to us,� replied the patrolman. �I thought you were a snob until I went to you for orders the first morning and you ordered me to take a drink.�

Some of us are right at home among the big movie stars, is that true Sue Bolger? It seems that Sue, Kay Donovan, Mary Jennison and this columnist with Miss Warymann and Miss Cunningham headed for the big city and The Heiress the other night. The play was wonderful, and then Sue was enlightened with the bright idea of going backstage and interviewing Rathbone for the STICK. Kay agreed, but Mary Jensie begged off saying that she'd rather Basil didn't see her with her hair so short, and yours truly prefers comedians. So off headed Sue and Kay for the back regions and our hero. Bravely they opened the dressing room door and were greeted cordially by Rathbone in various stages of undress � shorts to you. Out like two bolts of lightning backed the girls and when the valet had finished dressing the movie butler, resumed the interrupted interview. Kay scared him by asking how he liked Henry James, the author of the play and his works. Mr. Rathbone, fearing that he was dealing with two intellects, froze and became extremely polite and so the scene ended. Anyone who would like further details as to muscles etc. may see Sue or Kay, who are now saying �Shake the hand that shook the hand.�

from The Stick, vol. 14, issue 10. Publisher: Fitchburg State Teachers College, Massachusetts. Publication date: 1949-04-07

Here�s News: Dog Bites Hotel

This is a story about Moritz, a Belgian sheep dog, who went about Wednesday happily unaware that he was the cause of quite a good many upset nerves, and an amusing situation that involved two of Oklahoma City�s leading hostelries.

Moritz belongs to the distinguished English actor, Basil Rathbone, appearing at the Shrine with Katherine Cornell. Moritz is 14 years old, has long been the pride of Rathbone�s life. The actor would almost as soon travel without his right leg as without his dog. Miss Cornell also travels with two dogs: Flash, a cocker spaniel who has quite an important part in her play, and Sonya, her beloved dachshund.

It happened that Rathbone made a reservation to stay at the Skirvin hotel. Somebody learned that Moritz was involved, and informed Rathbone that the Skirvin does not entertain dogs. Whereupon the reservation was promptly cancelled and the entire Cornell party arranged to stop at the Biltmore.

It came upon the Skirvin management that something had gone amiss. Frantically they tried to save the situation. A wire was sent to the Cornell party offering nothing less than the presidential suite. It was added that W.B. Skirvin�s private car would be sent to the train to meet the party.

�The Biltmore people had been lovely to us and we couldn�t see any reason for changing our plans again.� Miss Cornell remarked.

And it so happened that the party, including Moritz, Flash and Sonya, were established at the Biltmore Wednesday, and doing very nicely, thank you.

�Sure, we take dogs, cows, anything that can pay its bill,� said R.P. Durkee, Biltmore manager.

Basil and Moritz, 1930

The house which Jack Dempsey and Estelle Taylor occupied was a Hollywood landmark for years. Basil Rathbone lives there now. Looking for Mr. Rathbone the other day, we were fooled because ivy has completely disguised the building. We stopped at a similar house and asked for Mr. R. "Sorry," said an unfriendly-looking woman. "Never heard of him."

"But," we persisted, "he lives in the old Jack Dempsey house�where Jack and Estelle Taylor lived."

"Never heard of any of 'em," quoth the lady. She slammed the door.

We found Mr. Rathbone and the house next door, not twenty yards away. So much for Hollywood landmarks.

from Picture Play, June 1937, p. 88

The Los Feliz house

Basil Rathbone, I'm afraid, has lived in Hollywood long enough to expect the worst from rings at his doorbell. Anyhow, shortly after he moved to Bel Air, when he heard a commotion at the front door and glimpsed a red-faced man with his tie under one ear, his first impulse was to cry to the butler, "Don't let him in!" Second thought led him to investigate�and just as well, too. The red-faced man panted, "So sorry to trouble you, old man! But you see, I've got this appointment to speak at a banquet. My wife's away and my man has broken his wrist and look here! You're awfully good at this sort of thing. Would you�would you be so kind as to tie my tie for me? Just as a neighborly gesture?"

Basil shouted, "Why, of course, of course!" and started right in to assist the distressed one. But it turned out that he had to call Ouida after all because he discovered that while he can certainly tie a perfect bow under his own personal chin, it's another matter entirely to approach the matter backward, as it were, and tie it under someone else's chin. By the time Ouida arrived the tie was in rags and they had to send upstairs for one of Basil's and by the time that was all attended to, the three of them were fast friends. And the red-faced gentleman turned out to be an important picture executive and everyone in Hollywood knows that it's a fine thing to be fast friends with an executive. There must be a moral somewhere in this.

I met Mr Rathbone once in the mid fifties, around 1954. I was in my twenties so do the math. I�m afraid I recognized him in the street in NYC, CPW near Columbus Circle, and spoke before I was even aware. He looked quite startled but was very affable and kind while I did a bit of gushing about the films I�d seen and loved. I�m afraid I was a Holmes fan and raved rather about The Hound of the Baskervilles, but contrary to what others have said he didn�t seem put off and actually told me it was the Holmes film he�d enjoyed making most. I said I loved the two period films, he said he had reservations about the second but mostly because the experience of making it had not been easy as the director was a harsh sort of man, and he said the plot was �what someone polite would call loosely woven.� I said I�d been unhappy they updated the Universal films he said Holmes fighting Nazis had been a mistake. He had a young girl with him who I think was his daughter. She looked about 13 and was holding his arm rather sweetly the whole time we spoke. Physically he was very tall and commanding, and his eyes were a very deep grey/blue. I got a strong impression of his personality, which was of a restless sort of probing intelligence, surface reserve (I was a stranger accosting him in the street) but a great deal of natural warmth just behind it. I had the sense he was appraising me very quickly and would miss nothing of the subtleties and undercurrents in things around him. Without the warmth beneath the surface I would say he was almost like meeting Mr Holmes himself. We spoke for just a few minutes but the impression was vivid. I�m a male, not one of his lady-fans who still seem to be legion.

from https://thegreatbaz.wordpress.com/2012/08/25/basil-rathbone-his-biography/

The elegant Basil Rathbone, wearing a lavish medieval costume, all-black silk tights, velvet tunic silver buckles and things, was entertaining a gushing lady in his studio bungalow. Talking sixteen to the dozen and dipping at the same time into the elaborate hamper in which he brings his lunch to the studio, he absently extracted an egg and tapped it on the edge of the table. Only there'd been a mistake somewhere and the egg wasn't hard boiled and it spattered all over the tights and the velvet tunic and the silver buckles and the table cloth and all of a sudden the dashing creature was just a man who had spattered raw egg all over himself and was just as mad about it as any other gent would be, who maybe hadn't spent a considerable portion of his life perfecting a suavity and a polish which are worth lots and lots of shiny dollars at the box office.

from Silver Screen, September 1940, page 44

The elegant Basil Rathbone

In 1955, Basil and Ouida stayed in California while Basil was working on a film. They leased their New York City apartment to actress Joan Fontaine for a period of six months. Fontaine wrote the following in her book No Bed of Roses:

By New Year's the lease on the Park Avenue apartment had expired, and the girls and I moved into the Basil Rathbone apartment on Central Park West. ...

Sliding down a snowy hill at the Paleys' one morning with the children and Shipwreck [John Kelly, football player], I went over a rough bump on my aluminum flyer, Debbie [Joan's daughter] riding on my shoulders. Late that afternoon, our first at the Longacre Theatre (the play had had to move from the Ethel Barrymore), "Gadge" Kazan rehearsed the cast in our new surroundings. Feeling intense pain, I somehow got through the night's performance. By morning both my shoulders felt as though splinters of glass had been imbedded in them. Acute bursitis held my arms stationary. The theatre physician injected novocaine and cortisone into the bursae. ... My understudy, Mary Fickett, was alerted. She went on that evening and all the rest of the evenings of Tea and Sympathy on Broadway to considerable and much deserved acclaim.

I returned to the Central Park West apartment and spent many painful days in bed until I was able to pack up my family and return to California. I had paid the rent in advance for six months, but I had stayed only three. Before leaving I had the windows washed, the floors waxed, the entire apartment thoroughly cleaned. Then I phoned the delighted Rathbones to say they were welcome to move back in. When I reached California and Fordyce, I found waiting for me on my desk a bill from the Rathbones for two missing dish towels and a chipped glass tabletop which had been damaged before I moved in. I paid the bill.

Joan Fontaine, No Bed of Roses (New York: Wm. Morrow & Co., 1978) pp. 241-242

Joan Fontaine

On November 27, 1931, Basil Rathbone appeared on the Nestle Chocolateers radio program (with Nat Brusiloff's Orchestra, NBC). Variety reported the following:

Basil Rathbone sprang a big surprise as guest artist for Nestle. Instead of recounting some of his past stage or screen experiences or relating a few anecdotes relative to his past, as is the custom among straight leading men of stage or screen who go before a mike, Rathbone entertained as a songster.

In announcing his song numbers, Rathbone mentioned that this was the first time he has warbled on radio since he started to study singing. The actor did three songs, all of them off the beaten track. They were a poem by John Masefield; spiritual "Deep River," and a song announced as written by Ernest Torrence, film actor. Rathbone's singing voice is altogether different than one would imagine from hearing him speak. He sings in a deep baritone. Besides the songs Rathbone handled some light comedy lines with the announcer between numbers. His English accent is not a detriment, as this actor makes the listeners feel the accent is genuine and not a pose.

Bernard J. O'Heir, a long-time fan of Basil Rathbone, shared this memory of meeting Robert Quarry (star of two vampire pictures: Count Yorga and The Return of Count Yorga). Quarry was a guest at the Ninth Annual Fanex Science Fiction/Horror Convention, held at the Sheraton in Towson, MD, on July 23, 1995.

I talked to Mr. Quarry on Saturday morning, July 23, 1995, and he told me the following concerning Basil Rathbone, himself, and The Spider Woman film.

He stated that at the time he was about 16/17 years old, and under contract with Universal to play very small bit parts in any film that Universal thought he would be suited for. He remembers getting a call to go to the set of the Rathbone film Spider Woman, but he was not told what the job would be.

He stated to me that when he arrived on the set, they put him in make up and after that put a white, medical-type smock on him. They laid him down on a table, and began to apply liver paste on the smock, in straight lines from his shoulders down to his legs. When he asked the technicians what the liver paste was for, they said it was for the "tarantulas." He immediately said, "What tarantulas?" They told him the tarantulas that would be crawling down his body during the scene he was going to be in. He said to the technician who was applying the liver paste, "You mean to tell me you're going to have tarantulas crawling down my body?!" The technician said yes, but not to worry because they were perfectly safe, they had no stingers and no poison. Quarry said, "I don't give a goddam if they are safe, I'm not going to let any goddam tarantulas crawl down my body no matter how safe they are!" The technician said, "But you have to do it. Mr. Rathbone is afraid of the tarantulas, so that is why we are having you do this." Quarry said, "No shit, Mr. Rathbone is afraid of tarantulas and so am I so you and the tarantulas can go to hell!" He then got up off the table, took off the coat, and left the set.

Later the next day he was called in to the office of one of the executives of Universal (he could not remember the person's name), and was told, "who do you think you are refusing to do a job like that? You'll do as you're told!" Mr. Quarry said he did not mind doing almost any kind of scene, but he would not appear in any scene with tarantulas.

That was the end of the conversation.

Bernard J. O'Heir

Robert Quarry

The following story can be found in the September 1938 issue of Screenland magazine:

Basil Rathbone gave his best performance gratis this week. He was putting his dogs through their tricks on his front lawn when, suddenly, he was conscious of five heads topping his tall hedge. He was afraid the boys to whom the heads belonged would fall and hurt themselves, so he cried at them to come on over and in. Courteously he sat them down in a semi-circle and continued his dog show. When he finished, one of the kids said, "Can we see your house?" Whereupon they trooped through the rooms where Hollywood's most elegant parties are held. "It's a swell dump for a villain!" muttered one of the pleased visitors. Basil ordered the butler to serve cake and cokes, which was the final touch. The company left in a trance.

In Memoriam of Cynthia Rathbone

I worked with Cynthia Rathbone at Hockaday Associates in the early 1960s. Perhaps 1962 and 1963. Hockaday was then one of the new small front-edge advertising agencies in New York. We had perhaps 30 to 40 small clients, all of them selling expensive top-of-the-line products. Crane Papers, Elizabeth Arden, Grant's Scotch.

Miss Hockaday, the President, wanted her staff to be young, smart, fashionable. Clients liked the agency as much as they liked the advertising. Cynthia Rathbone was part of this young but adult world. Rock and Roll, The Beatles, and Mick Jagger hadn't come on the scene yet.

Cynthia was a big girl. Not fat, but tall, sturdy, dark-haired, good-looking in an upper-class, healthy way. She had an unabashed personality. She had no problem in presenting herself in a self-confident, amusing way to clients. She worked as an associate account person but was very much one of the inner circle of creative types among the writers and art directors. We lunched a lot. We laughed a lot. No one was pretending to be someone he or she was not. Cynthia wore bright green a lot as I remember, which went well with her bold, dark look.

You were supposed to be witty in New York then. Grown up and witty. Vast dance halls with ear-splitting music didn't exist. You went out to supper clubs where everyone smoked and talked right through the entertainment. Billie Holiday? Yes, but as I was saying, this was a kind of sophisticated world that was . . . [rest of sentence is missing].

Cynthia was the daughter of the famous Hollywood actor Basil Rathbone, known for his role as Sherlock Holmes in a number of films. His wife was Ouida. Cynthia had been adopted. We all knew that her small, forbidding mother didn't have the kind of daughter she wanted. I think we all made an effort to reassure Cynthia that she was one of us, one of the self-assured and socially unquestionables. In our own way we were a team of six or seven and Cynthia was one of us. I don't think any of us anticipated that Cynthia would be dead within the next decade of drink and drugs.

I think Cynthia was lost because our world disappeared. She didn't move into a future of a husband, children and a house in the suburbs. Really, none of the other women in the group did either, though some married and had children. Being a little younger than the rest of us, I think the nightlife that descended on New York swept her away. The large, lifeless apartment she shared with her parents wasn't really a home. They weren't really parents, distant as they were to her and each other. They moved in cafe society. Their names appeared in the papers. Cynthia wasn't for that world. Her energy, force, enthusiasm didn't find a place where she could like herself. I think her new friends were impressed with her, but they couldn't reach out and save her. That wouldn't have been the New York way.

David Leddick

Wes Shank, a long-time fan of Basil Rathbone, shares his memory of a special meeting with the great man:

I had the privilege of meeting Basil Rathbone briefly at Harriton High School in Rosemont, Pennsylvania, on February 26, 1963. He was on some sort of lecture tour. I did not have tickets to the event, but since I was a student at the school, I was able to sneak in towards the end of the lecture with two of my close friends. I specifically recalled that he requested no autographs were to be given or no photographs be taken, but I was bound and determined to get both. I persisted and eventually got both! The photo of that meeting appears to the right.

Wes Shank

From left to right are: Jack Oakes, Dave Gabelman, Rathbone and Wes Shank.

Quinn O'Hara, an actress who co-starred with Basil in The Ghost in the Invisible Bikini, shares her memories of Rathbone:

WOW! I have only great things to say about him. He played my father in "The Ghost In The Invisible Bikini" from 1966. He was the very best. I remember being afraid I would accidentally call him "Mr Bathbone" and told him so. He smiled most graciously! From then on, it was just a sheer pleasure working with him. He had put me right at ease. What a delightful man. I can only say everything was super. He is the only "Sherlock Holmes" and "Sheriff of Nottingham" in Robin Hood
for me.

He was superb in everything he did. I understand he and his charming wife used to throw the most wonderful parties. All I can say is that he was the best, wonderful "Daddy Dear" an actress could ask for. He was warm and funny yet so absolutely "proper." To say he was a real pro is an understatement. He was one of a kind. Every role he did was great and unique unto itself. To call him a very charming gentleman is putting it mildly! I consider myself very lucky to have had the opportunity to not only meet him, but to appear as his co-star in "The Ghost in the Invisible Bikini."

Quinn O'Hara

In an article written for the Highland Park News, Chuck Wenk told about a practical joke that broadcaster Bob Elson played on Basil Rathbone. Wenk wrote:

Basil Rathbone, the actor who played Sherlock Holmes in the movies for years, was in Chicago one week when the Sox were home, and asked if Elson would interview him to promote his new movie. As Elson�s statistician in those days, I was sitting right next to him when WCFL engineer Carl Swanson put Rathbone�s phone call through to Elson, so I could hear what he told Rathbone. �Come up to the booth at 5:30 before the night game tomorrow, and you can be my guest on the interview show!�

When he hung up the phone, I reminded Elson that he had no on-air show �til right before gametime. �Keep that to yourself, young man, and we�ll have some fun with this guy,� The Commander instructed me.

Sure enough, Rathbone and his agent made it up to the radio booth just after 5 p.m. the next night, and it was just the four of us in that tiny, open-air booth. A few minutes after they arrived, Elson motioned for me to put on my headphones and he told Rathbone that �Young Wenk here will point to me when we�re on the air, and we�ll take it from there.�

I shook my head in disgust, but with Elson glaring at me, I finally gave him a fake signal, and Elson went into his usual intro ... �This is BOB Elson, at Comiskey Park, where we�re privileged to be able to visit with Hollywood�s Sherlock Holmes � Basil Rathbone!� Bob was speaking carefully, with plenty of animation, into a �dead mike� that was plugged in, but might as well have been a toy, because the �interview� wasn�t going anywhere further than the booth itself.

I kept checking my watch as if this whole thing was on a time-schedule, and when the conversation seemed to be coming to a close, I held up 10 fingers, and then pointed to Bob as he �signed off.� Rathbone shook Elson�s hand with obvious appreciation, and he and his agent left the booth, hoping thousands of fans had heard him promote his movie.

�Bob, how can you do that to the guy?� I asked him afterward. Elson smiled, having enjoyed another of his frequent pranks, and told me �we�ll probably never see the guy again, and if he asks his friends whether they heard him, of course they�ll all insist they did ... they�ll be afraid to admit they missed the show!�

The next night, both of us were shocked to see Rathbone back up at the booth, presumably to confront us for faking the whole thing. Elson nervously shook his hand, and Rathbone began, �Bob, I can�t tell you how many of my friends caught the broadcast and loved it! You�re really a sport, Bob, and I appreciate you getting me on the air on short notice!�

Lucky for us, Rathbone only played a sleuth in the movies.

Source: "Bob Elson: A Broadcast Booth Prankster," Highland Park News, October 18, 2012

Michael Hoey, son of British actor Dennis Hoey (Inspector Lestrade), tells how he met Basil Rathbone:

I met Basil Rathbone in 1944 when my father took a friend and me to Universal Studios in the San Fernando Valley to visit the set of the Sherlock Holmes film The Pearl of Death. I was nine years old and terribly excited, as I had never been inside a motion picture studio before. I have fond memories of my visit that day to the set of The Pearl of Death and the excitement it created in me that would one day influence my decision to choose motion pictures as my career, a decision that I have never regretted. For a long time after that visit, I kept two autographed photographs on my bedroom wall � the first was of Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce in their familiar pose standing side by side, and the second was a head shot of Nigel Bruce upon which he had inscribed the following: �To Michael, who is a nice boy in spite of his father.� One day that photo just disappeared from its place on my bedroom wall and I never saw it again. I suppose that my father grew tired of the sentiment, even though it was written in jest. The other autographed photo remains a treasured part of my film memorabilia connection.

I would see Rathbone once again in 1965 when I was working at Producers Studios in Hollywood and I heard that he was working that day on the adjoining stage to ours in an AIP production with the dreadful title, The Ghost in the Invisible Bikini, which was no improvement over its original title Bikini Party in a Haunted House. Wanting to pay my respects, during a break in filming I went next door and found him seated in a director�s chair away from all of the activity. It had been 21 years since I had last seen him at Universal and, although I had watched him perform in numerous films over the years, I was nonetheless shocked to see the frail old man seated in the shadows, drinking a cup of tea. I introduced myself, reminding Mr. Rathbone of my father, and of our meeting in 1944 on the set of the Sherlock Holmes film. He seemed vaguely to remember my father and politely asked about his health. When I informed him that my father had died several years earlier, he nodded silently, as if to acknowledge his own mortality. I couldn�t help feeling that I was intruding, as he seemed to drift off into his own thoughts, so I made some self-conscious comment about the continuing popularity of the old Sherlock Holmes films, to which he smiled graciously and I then excused myself. As I walked back to my stage I grew angry that this once great actor was now reduced to playing a supporting role to a cast of callow teenagers in a low-budget exploitation film.

(Excerpted with permission from Michael Hoey's book Sherlock Holmes & the Fabulous Faces: The Universal Pictures Repertory Company. Click here to read more about the book.)

My Mom and I were shopping in Bambergers Dept store in Newark, New Jersey. We saw a huge crowd, and when Mom spotted Basil Rathbone, we got right in the middle of it. I don't know what he was doing there, besides signing autographs. I learned later that he was starring in Witness for the Prosecution at the Paper Mill Playhouse in Milburn, N.J. Apparently he did lots of public appearances at that time. Mom was a movie buff, so when she was asked if her little girl would pose for a photo with Rathbone, she practically threw me up on the platform. The photo was in the newspaper the next day, with the caption "Elementary, My Dear Penny."

Mom wrote to Rathbone and told him how thrilled I was to meet him, and how before that I had had a crush on Yul Brynner (from The King and I), but now all I could talk about was Mr. Rathbone! He wrote a letter back to Mom, and included a photo inscribed to me. In the letter he wrote, "I feel very flattered to have taken over Yul Brynner." I remember him making quite an impression on me. He was a lovely man, and big!

Penny

Visit the Letters from Basil page to read the letter that Penny's mother received.

"Nobody ever had it worse on the show than Basil Rathbone�or at least, that's what he thought at the time. In fairness to him, it must have been rough for a man of Basil's dignity to find himself in front of the camera with Martha Raye and me. Both of us can go pretty wild in the low-comedy department when we forget our lines. Which is exactly what happened in some sort of Sherlock Holmes takeoff that was dreamed up for Basil's guest shot. We just ran wild around him, pushing, shoving, ad libbing, mugging, swinging burlesque bladders. Mr. Rathbone looked stunned throughout the whole thing. As soon as he got off stage, he said to the first person he met, 'Nevah again will I work with those two f**king people! Nevah!' He was on the show three weeks later, after everyone he knew congratulated him on how marvelous he looked and on what a great flair for comedy he had displayed."

�from Milton Berle, An Autobiography (paperback edition) by Milton Berle with Haskel Frankel (Dell Publishing, 1974), 307-308.

Dick Cavett, a talk-show host known for his wit and intimate interviewing style, remembers meeting Basil Rathbone and hearing him tell an interesting story:

I have this story from none other than the great Basil Rathbone ... I hope it doesn�t sound too strange to confess that, even as a kid, I had a sort of crush on Rathbone. I can�t detect any erotic element in it; I just wanted to look, talk and act like he did. I was in high school, and back then I knew him only as Sherlock Holmes, but that was plenty. ... Where else would a kid my age meet Basil Rathbone but in Lincoln, Neb.? He was there to narrate a huge concert-drama event at the University of Nebraska, and he'd agreed to meet informally with the drama students there. I played hooky and went, of course. ... I bulldozed my way backstage, and there he stood�not on the screen but feet from me. I sidled up to where he was chatting before going on. There was the inimitable voice (no impressionist has ever done him), and the first words I heard him speak were, "Of course I only made the one picture with Greta." ... I treasured every overheard utterance�as in, "I seem unable to conquer my fear of flying. I'm nervous as a kitten on an aeroplane." Holmes, scared?, I mused. ... Let's get to the story Rathbone told me some years later, when we were both in New York.

Rathbone was entertaining a friend one night at his home in the Hollywood Hills. Both men were keenly interested in dogs and their breeding. His friend had brought with him two handsome specimens. As it got late, the two friends had a parting drink and called it a night. The friend and the canines got into the car and drove away. but, sadly, not very far.

As Rathbone turned to go back inside, he heard the screech of brakes and the sickening sounds of a ghastly car crash. His friend and the dogs were killed instantly. In deep shock, and with the thought, "He was just standing here," pounding in his aching head, Rathbone heard the damned phone begin ringing. Mechanically he picked it up and heard the voice of the MGM studio's night switchboard operator. "Sorry, Mr. Rathbone but I have a woman on the line who simply must talk to you. She says it's desperately, desperately important. ... She hopes you'll know what a certain message means." ... The woman had a low and cultivated speaking voice and identified herself as a trance medium and clairvoyant. ... "I have for you, sir, what we term 'a calling of urgency,'" she said. "It came to me with such impact that, although not knowing its meaning, I simply had to find you. The message is brief. Here it is in its entirety: 'Traveling very fast. No time to say good-bye.' And then, 'There are no dogs here.'"

The next time I saw Rathbone ... I thought he might have decided, looking back, that it had all been some sort of bizarre coincidence, or maybe a highly original prank. He said, �At the time, of course, I was quite shaken by it.� And now? �I am still shaken by it.�

The following anecdotes about Rathbone are from Nigel Bruce's unpublished memoirs. First, Nigel tells how he got the role of Dr. Watson. He was very depressed after being in a play that was a failure ("Knights of Song"). Then he received a telegram.

"The telegram was from Basil Rathbone who said: 'Do come back to Hollywood, Willie dear boy, and play Doctor Watson to my Sherlock Holmes. We'll have great fun together.' Basil can never realize how much that telegram cheered me up, as when I received it, I was in the mood to put my head in a gas oven."

"Our Sherlock Holmes pictures took between 18 and 22 days to make. Often we shot out of continuity. The moment one sequence was ended, the scenery would be torn down and the same stage used for a completely new set up. We learned our entire parts before the picture commenced as one does for a stage play. This meant we had no worries if the shooting schedule were changed and if the story was told out of its continuity. Roy Neill was always open to suggestions from Basil or myself and we always accompanied him to the daily rushes in the projection room. Roy, Basil, myself and our Sherlock Holmes casts always worked together as a happy and contented team."

Speaking of the Sherlock Holmes radio program, Nigel wrote: "We all got on like a house on fire and not only is Basil Rathbone a very dear friend but he is one of the most unselfish and generous actors with whom it has ever been my pleasure to act. We had a great time together on the program and spent many hours playing golf at Riviera or Bel-Air. Basil and I were evenly matched, both having handicaps of 10."

"In December [1944] we took our radio program to Santa Barbara where we raised $190,000.00 for the war bond drive. From there we traveled to San Francisco for the 6th War Loan Drive. We spoke at numerous bond rallies, signed autographs and sold bonds in two of the city's largest shops, met with popular Mayor Lapham of San Francisco and with him visited the police headquarters where we sold a bond to Chief of Police, Charles Dullea. Here we were also shown many interesting relics of crime, and Basil caused a lot of laughter when he told the chief that he was sorry to hear that they still had some unsolved crimes in San Francisco as he and I solved every case we handled with the greatest of ease once every week on Friday nights, and each case only look us half an hour!!"

"At the end of this series Basil left Hollywood to act in a play which went on an extended tour before opening later in New York. For some time Basil had not been happy in the film city; he is a fine actor and he had felt that he was not getting good enough parts and that he was always typed either as Sherlock Holmes or as a villain in costume pictures. Very wisely he therefore decided to return to the stage, which he always preferred and on which he could play parts of his own choosing. My association with Basil had been a very long one. We had acted together in 14 Sherlock Holmes pictures, in the film of 'Frenchman's Creek' and on the radio in countless programs since October 2nd, 1939. Ours had been a very happy association and one which had brought me much publicity and a lot of money. During our long time together Basil and I never had a row or any unpleasantness of any sort."

"I never worked with a nicer man than Basil, and I never acted with a more unselfish or more cooperative actor."

In 1920 Basil Rathbone starred with Constance Collier in the play "Peter Ibbetson." Eleven-year-old Eugenie Misener, a pupil of Italia Conti, was the understudy for the part of the young girl played by Madeleine Robertson. Her recollection is that the play opened at the Savoy (London), then went down to Brighton, before returning to the Royal Court Theatre. She had to be chaperoned whilst in Brighton but never actually got on stage there or in London as Madeleine was never ill.

Later she went to see Basil as Iago in the "Othello" production at the Royal Court Theatre. On that occasion, she went around to the Stage Door and asked to see him, only to be rebuffed by the doorman. Persistent, she waited for Basil to appear, and he immediately recognized her, and called out "Ah, my little girl!" You can imagine what delight she took in being invited in, one-up on the doorman and other would-be admirers!

Sid Caesar shares this story of Basil Rathbone's appearance on Your Show of Shows, a 90-minute television program that was broadcast live:

When I went out to introduce Basil, I said, "Here ladies and gentlemen is . . ." I couldn't believe it, I forgot his name. I had an hour and a half show in my head, and I couldn't remember his name. So I began to stall: "Here is a man whom you've seen play Sherlock Holmes many, many times. He's one of the most experienced theater actors in the world . . ." But I still couldn't think of his name. Finally someone wrote it down on a big piece of cardboard and brought it close enough for me to see it. With great relief, I said, "Mr. Basil Rathbone." Basil came out and he knew what happened. He was very gracious about it, but he couldn't resist saying, "I'd like to thank Mr. Sid Silvers for having me on." He got even.

Caesar's Hours, by Sid Caesar with Eddy Friedfeld (New York: Public Affairs) 2003. pp. 250-251.

This photo was taken of Basil and me while he was visiting the FBI in the early 1950s. He was accompanied by Special Agent Ed Kemper from the Bureau's Crime Records Section. Kemper was his guide throughout the FBI Lab and in the normal course of business he would, following the Lab tour, have been escorted to the basement of the Dept. of Justice-FBI building where the Bureau's 25 yard pistol range was located. In all probability Rathbone watched a shooting demonstration by a FBI Firearms Instructor and shortly thereafter had a meeting with Mr. Hoover himself, if he was "available" at that time. As far as his tour of my unit (the Firearms Identification Section) was concerned, Kemper and I showed him the collection of about 1500 hand guns and shoulder weapons, demonstrated firing test bullets into the bullet recovery box in a sound proof room behind the gun collection, explained a little bit about the science of Firearms Identification, and told him how much we enjoyed meeting him. Kemper then led him to another unit of the Laboratory (such as the Serology unit, Hair and Fiber unit to name a few). Before leaving my unit Mr Rathbone shook my hand and told me how much he appreciated the tour.

FBI Special Agent Richard J. Poppleton

My father managed Mr. Rathbone during some of his speaking�tours during the 1960s. He arranged for several visits that�Mr. Rathbone made to South America. My father recalled meeting with Mr. Rathbone and his wife, Ouida, in their NY apartment and how Mr. Rathbone read aloud to him there. He said it was an experience he would never forget and also expressed how extremely gracious both Mr. Rathbone and his wife were to him. Had I not been such a young, dopey kid at the time you can believe I would've begged my father to let me join him. At any rate, I ended up with a personally autographed photo signed, "Best Wishes, Basil Rathbone alias Sherlock Holmes," which�I treasure to this day.
Randy Winston, New City, NY

As a teenager in the 1950s, I used to idolize Basil Rathbone. On TV�I�loved�him as Sherlock, Richard III, and�Guy of Gisbourne; I saw him live in Ashland, Ohio in one of his Evenings with BR; yet my strongest high school memory was a Caedmon recording of Poe's "Masque of the Red Death," where his ear-haunting timbre, range of colors, and vocal virtuosity made an indelible impression. I subsequently went on to get�a Bachelor's and Master' s�degree in Theatre, taught and directed on the college level, and have worked as an actor off and on for close to 4 decades. As I look back, I'm startled to think of all the times I was influenced by Rathbone: I used Poe's "Red Death"�in my own 1-man shows; during a gig at the Colorado Shakespeare Festival, I vividly recall a couple of us�mounting an onstage duel and stealing bits from�Robin vs. Sir Guy; another time I was cast as Sergius in Shaw's "Arms and the Man" and was baffled how to make myself credible as the romantic lead (old men and villains were my normal fare)�but I experimented with adding a simple pencil-line mustache a la Rathbone,�got the perfect look, and had a swell time in the role.

What made Rathbone so extraordinary? First, he had colossal gifts: a) the superb athletic ability, and not only in swordsmanship�I was startled to be reminded that he was a��perfectly capable hoofer�(and patter singer) who could hold his own in a music hall turn; b) the prodigious vocal accomplishment�that bronze bass-baritone had�remarkable power, range, and variety�the icy chest register�that made his villains so formidable, the head voice�that could supply surprising sweetness & warmth �(e.g., your "Night Before Christmas" clip, or his v.o. for Disney's "Mr. Toad," or his LP of "Robin Hood" where he doesn't portray the baddie but Robin himself�and with a lightness, bounce, and dash that are as convincing as they are unexpected).�c) the directness, economy, and subtlety of his work�I remember, years ago,�Everson suggesting that he would add "a touch of ham," but I honestly can't see it. Over and over he underplays, relying on restraint, linear readings, and�choices that register swiftly. When you consider the undistinguished material he often had to run with, the body of�his work�in his prime is brilliant.

All in all, he was close to the ultimate actor: he could act, move, sing, dance, and tackle an enormous range of media and styles. My only regret is that he wasn't given a chance to film some of his "other" repertoire, Cassius, say, or�Dr. Sloper. In short, he was one of the undisputable greats.

Rick Walter, Houston, Texas

I first heard of Basil when I was around seven years of age in 1972 and this is where I first saw him in Sherlock Holmes films. He really was a great actor in those days and yes I'm a fan of his in Sherlock Holmes movies. I still watched him on TV over and over the years. I already bought a book about him and I do believe apart from his acting he was a good hearted gentleman. he always seemed to have time to meet and talk to anyone.
An Irish Basil Rathbone supporter,
Mr. Ronan Meyler, Dublin, Ireland

"I first met Mr. Rathbone when I worked on [The Adventures of Sherlock Homes]. . . . I got to know Basil much more later on, some years later when we did a stage version of SHERLOCK HOLMES. That's when I really got to know him, because by that time I was grown up. As a child, of course I didn't really get to know him except to see that he was a great gentleman and an extremely pleasant person. Everybody liked him very much. Of course, in those days, he was more famous for playing villains, and he couldn't have been more different. He was a gentle and really very charming man, and he was indeed very, very well liked by everybody."

Terry Kilburn, quoted in Scarlet Street #13 (Winter 1994), p. 53

I grew up in NYC/Manhattan � the daughter of a prominent physician (who by chance was Basil Rathbone's MD). I had always been a fan of Mr. Rathbone's. . . sooooo, one day (the summer holidays had already started and I was home from boarding school), my dad's secretary called the house saying that my dad wanted me to come by the office (which was quite close to our apartment) for luncheon. I headed over and waited in the patient's waiting room. Ms. Bethany (dad's secretary/nurse) came in and said that my dad was ready to see me... I went into his office and lo-and-behold there standing in the middle of the room was Basil Rathbone!!!! WOW... what a surprise!!!! Ms. Bethany took a picture of me facing him, showing our profiles... I treasure that moment and the picture (which my mum put into a cardboard frame which was then signed [at a later date] by Mr. Rathbone.
Pam Taylor

Among my happiest memories was meeting Basil Rathbone when he was doing the radio program, Inspector Burke of Scotland Yard. My foster-father, William Podmore, was playing Inspector Burke's sidekick, Sgt. Abernathy, and I gave him no peace until he brought me to the studio to meet Basil. I had already seen The Heiress, and I recognized his makeup as Dr. Sloper; he said that there's so little time between the end of the radio show and the start of the play that he couldn't afford to try to make up at the theatre, and sometimes he couldn't catch a cab right away, as well. I volunteered to have one waiting for him after Inspector Burke finished, and did so for the remainder of the run. He was pleased, and invited me to come backstage whenever I had time. You can be sure that I took him up on this offer most Tuesday (I think) nights. In the play, the Doctor dies several scenes before the end, and Basil had to hang around for the curtain calls, so he seemed happy to have someone to chat with besides his dresser, Johnny.

Years later I traveled to a Maine Summer Stock theater to see Basil in The Winslow Boy, a play which had been a favorite of mine from the movie, and difficult to surpass, but he was superb, and what a pleasure to see him in a sympathetic role. An memorable incident occurred during the performance. At one point, Basil sat down at a table to converse on the telephone. The chair literally collapsed under him, and he took a very hard fall�definitely not in the script. He got up carefully, taking his time to sort of check out his anatomy to see if he was all in one piece, picked up the phone, and ad-libbed an apology and explanation to the (of course non-existent) party on the other end. The audience had, when he fell, gasped and were in a shocked sort of silence, not sure of the situation. When the call was completed, with the normal dialog, he hung up the phone, and, reassured, the audience greeted him with a thunderous applause, both in relief that he was all right, and in awe of his aplomb.

"My mother knew Basil in England before and after the war, and when I was very little, in about 1963, she took me to visit him for a few days. I don't remember a thing about it, except being in this dark place, with a brightly lit area, which apparently was a movie set, and being picked up by a man in a black coat and tall black hat with silky stuff tied on it, who was showing me round, and talking to me. There was a mirror over a fireplace and some red chairs, and when he put me down he told me not to trip over this big cable running along the ground."

One evening in 1935 Basil and Ouida Rathbone were invited for dinner at the home of Hosford and June Brackett and their three children. One of the now-grown children relates this story:

"We had recently seen Basil bash Freddy Bartholomew in 'David Copperfield,' so when the Rathbones arrived, we hid from Basil in fear. After a while we tentatively peeked around the corner to get a glimpse of our famous guest. Basil caught us and escorted us back to the living room just in time to see my father spill a tray of drinks onto Ouida Rathbone's dress! But we had a nice evening anyway, and Basil signed our autograph books."

In his biography of Basil Rathbone, Michael Druxman relates an amusing story about Moritz, Basil's German Shepherd:

When I came to Hollywood to pursue my own acting career, I left The Basil Rathbone Club and for a while Basil himself behind. I was preoccupied with trying to make it in the movies and simply surviving. A few years passed and the career was going pretty well. I was doing leads and guest star roles on TV and an occasional movie. So, when I received an offer to do a part with little dialogue in a pilot film for 20th called Warbirds I was inclined to turn it down. When my agent, Dorothy Maclin, told me that Basil Rathbone was reprising his role as Major Brand in this proposed series based on the great film "The Dawn Patrol," I jumped at it.

The year was 1964 and it had been several years since I had last met Basil after one of his Theater Programs and knew he was getting a little long in the tooth. When I spotted him on the set in his chair working on his lines I realized he looked more frail than when I last saw him. I made my way over to him, more than a little nervous, and found that he was rather flustered himself and was muttering "Damn it Basil...get it right!" as he went over his lines.

After a few moments I decided to jump in and said "Mr. Rathbone?" He looked up and said "Yes?" I sputtered out, "I am David Macklin, I used to be David Mortashed and I was President of your fan club." He looked at me blankly with no sign of recognition. I continued, "You remember? I took over the club from Doris Devasier." He squinted and then smiled and said, "Oh! Are you Doris Devasier?"

Well, you can imagine that I was a little taken aback. I thought I looked pretty butch in my air force uniform. I stuttered onward..."No, I'm David Macklin...I mean Mortashed...I mean I was David Mortashed....I am David Macklin now but I was Mortashed...David...And was your fan club president AFTER Doris Devasier." He looked at me again and laughed. "Yes, of course dear boy...forgive me. I am getting rather addled these days and I had a terrible flight with bad food (more on that later) and I have this monster speech coming up." We talked a bit about the old days: Sherlock Holmes, Errol Flynn and movies versus theater. I told him that I still had the letters* he sent me and that I treasured them.
*Ed. note: These letters can be viewed on the "Letters from Basil" page.

I could see he was still concerned about his lines so I asked if I could cue him which he gratefully accepted. It was wonderful. Here I was helping this marvelous actor who had given us so many years of inspiration and enjoyment. I cued Basil Rathbone and we worked on word associations that would spark his memory and soon he was in control and relaxed into the role. It was great to see him as he was in Sherlock Holmes, "The Dawn Patrol" and so many of his classic roles. I was so moved that I got tears in my eyes and choked up a bit. He seemed to understand and patted me on the knee and murmured, "Quite right...quite right old boy." Then he laughed and said, "Doris Devasier indeed!"

Soon it was time to tackle Basil's big scene. He started off a little shaky, muttering again, "Damn it Basil...get it right!" But shortly he had it down and we went for a take. The cameras were rolling and he was doing fine when suddenly he broke wind...a rather prolonged B flat. Like the pro he was, he didn't yell CUT and went on with the scene as did we flyboys who surrounded him. After the take, he broke out laughing and said "Sorry about the ad lib." The whole set laughed with him and when we settled down the sound man said, "It's OK. We are clear! No overlaps." Cheers and laughter rolled over the set. The take was printed, we did the coverage and moved on with a delightful day of shooting.

The next day I drove Basil as Major Brand around 20th's great back lot in a jeep for some location shots. To tell the truth I had never driven a jeep before and it was a bit of a jerky bumpy ride. Basil remarked, "Dear boy! You are shaking up my innards a bit." I said, "Sorry Sir, but they didn't teach jeep driving in drama school." To which he replied "Quite right! Carry on!"

It was a glorious day and the last time either of us saw the back lot of 20th Century Fox. I remember Basil Rathbone looking wistfully around at the green rolling hills of the lot and saying, "I have many fond memories of this place. It will all be glass and concrete soon." And so it came to pass. After the "Cleopatra" debacle 20th sold the back lot and it soon became the great conglomeration of marble and glass known as Century City.

A few years later I was vacationing in Laguna Beach. While lounging on the beach I heard on the radio that Basil Rathbone had died. I went to my motel room and spent the rest of the day there full of sadness and regret. Why hadn't I stayed in contact with Basil? Why didn't I get a photo with him? Why didn't I at least have him autograph my script? Who could ever replace this truly gracious, witty, kind man and magnificent actor?