Free The Ear of the Heart: An Actress' Journey From Hollywood to Holy Vows by Dolores Hart, Richard DeNeut Page B

the play. Meikeljohn’s reaction was positive, so Paul Nathan, Wallis associate producer, made a call to Dolores’ home to invite her to come in for an interview. Since Dolores hadn’t told her mother of Barbeau’s plan, Harriett thought it was a gag and hung up on Paul. His secretary tracked Dolores down at Marymount. She was called from class to take a telephone call from “a Hollywood producer” and dutifully marched to the dean’s office. She picked up the phone, and her life changed.
    Nathan explained that she might be right for the new Elvis Presley movie that was about to go into production and asked her to come to the studio that very afternoon.
    I nearly froze on the spot. I told him I would have to get my mother’s permission. He said she had hung up on him. With heart pounding, I somehow managed to track down Don Barbeau, who excitedly agreed to drive me to the studio immediately .
    As we approached the studio in Don’s hearse, I recognized the Paramount gate as the same one through which Erich von Stroheim drove Gloria Swanson in that Isotta Fraschini in Sunset Boulevard. Wow, some difference! I had on my usual school costume—navy skirt, white blouse, white bucks and, of course, my ponytail. Mr. Wallis and Mr. Nathan met us in a reception room .
    A few minutes later, she got her first look at the Wallis inner sanctum. Beautifully appointed, the huge room was full of trophies attesting to his lofty position in the film industry—twelve framed Oscar nominations for best picture plus the statue itself for producing Casablanca —and a number of original Remingtons and Russells reflecting his personal passion. He had a sense of humor too. At the threshold of his private john, there was a doormat with a caricature of Jerry Lewis.
    Several executives joined us. Introductions were made, and we all sat down. The room fell into an immediate and prolonged silence. I could feel each man studying me. Mr. Nathan leaned over and whispered, “I didn’t like your photo, but I like you.” I began to blush .
    The blush, which began at the roots of her hair, spread downward. Years later Nathan recalled, “Her ears looked like they were on fire. Everyone laughed, and the tension was broken. Her blushing had captivated us.” The meeting ended with Wallis giving her a scene from his current production, Hot Spell , to study for an audition in a few days.
    Don insisted that I needed to get an agent fast. He knew of one, Carlos Alvarado, who had a good reputation. Mom wasn’t so sure that was the right move and asked friends—the Duncan Sisters—for advice. The Duncan Sisters, who were appearing at the country club Pop managed, had been headliners in vaudeville. They counseled against signing with Alvarado because they feared that, with a name like Dolores and an agent named Carlos, I would get offered only senorita parts. But both Don and I knew I wasn’t in any position to be choosy, so we met with Mr. Alvarado, who agreed to represent me .
    Mr. Alvarado got an acting coach and an actor to help me rehearse the scene. Just before Christmas, we presented it to Mr. Wallis in a Paramount rehearsal room called the “fish bowl” because of a large see-through mirror on one wall through which he could watch auditions without being seen. I got through the scene and waited for some comment. Nothing. Not even “Don’t call us; we’ll call you .”
    There was no call during the entire Christmas break. With midterms coming up, my attention went back to the books. On the first day back at school, as I was being raked over the coals for taking my shoes off in charm class, Mom arrived clutching a telegram from Paul Nathan. I was going to be given a screen test for the Elvis Presley movie .
    A letter agreement for a test option was drawn up on January 8, 1957, giving Hal Wallis the right to screen-test Dolores Hicks and lock her into a six-month contract, should that option be exercised. The test was set for the following week.