Read Online All the Stars in the Heavens by Adriana Trigiani - Free Book Online Page A

this Spencer Tracy fellow?”
    â€œWord is good on him.”
    â€œIs he easy?”
    â€œI didn’t say that. He’s good. Good actor.”
    Loretta swallowed hard. Whenever she started a new picture, she felt like she was back on the extras line at Players-Lasky, hoping to be chosen but afraid that if she was, she wouldn’t measure up and they’d send her home.
    Loretta was also nervous about the director. Borzage had won the first Academy Award ever given for directing. He was sharp, his style influenced by the great European filmmakers, which made Loretta feel inferior.
    â€œYou’ll be fine. Borzage is a pro,” LaWanda assured her. “And a good actress makes everyone on the set look better, including the makeup girl. So get out there and show them how it’s done, sweetie.” LaWanda removed Loretta’s rubber cape and paper collar as she stood up.
    The wardrobe assistant helped Loretta out of her robe and into her costume, a working-girl shirtwaist dress and coat. She centered a cloche hat on her head.
    â€œYou didn’t need to do your hair,” LaWanda marveled. “Love the hat.”
    Loretta’s inner circle served up compliments and support freely, as they were both artisans and coaches. The more confident the actress, the faster the day’s work for everyone.
    When Loretta left her dressing room and walked out onto the set, she was met with stifling heat in contrast to the snowy winter set of Central Park in New York City. There were drifts of soap-flake snow on the ground, and trees flocked with white foam; glass icicles clung to a faux stone wall, and a coppery full moon hung in the distant sky like an old penny.
    Borzage was known for his authentic sets, which were sprawling, ambitious, and built to actual scale. He thought painterly interiors looked fake on camera, so he had the scene designer use the entirety of the sound stage, in height, breadth, and depth, to re-create a portion of Central Park as close as possible to the real thing.
    The set designer had built the small hills and footpaths of Central Park, the statues, park benches, and rock gardens. In the distance there were glints of light in the windows of the skyscrapers that surrounded the park, their walls made of faux sandstone and brick. Borzage’s genius was in the details; a real squirrel ran up a tree, before he was retrieved and placed back in his cage by an animal trainer until the cameras rolled. Another cage full of pigeons, which would be used in the first scene, was positioned by the park bench. A bag of bread crumbs was placed on the park bench for Spencer Tracy to feed them.
    Loretta smiled and nodded as the crew acknowledged her respectfully with greetings of “Good morning, Miss Young,” “Nice to see you again, Miss Young,” “Lovely as always, Miss Young.”
    Loretta’s team surrounded her, yanking at the hem of her dress, dusting off the hat, powdering her face. Loretta greeted her stand-in, who was exactly her size.
    â€œI guess I need a hat,” the stand-in murmured.
    â€œIt’s a sweat box in here,” Loretta commented.
    â€œGonna get worse. It’s going to break a hundred by eight this morning, and only going up from there,” the stage manager said as he passed.
    â€œYou’re gonna cook in those coats,” the wardrobe assistant clucked.
    â€œSnow scenes in July,” a man’s voice said behind her, dropping to a whisper. “Tells you something about the common sense of studio executives.”
    Loretta turned to find herself face to face with Spencer Tracy. In two-inch heels, she was almost as tall as he was. Tracy was stocky and broad-shouldered, a body more suited to a workingman than a leading man. She liked his face. He was blue-eyed Irish in the stevedore fashion, with a strong nose, wide cheekbones, and a smile that had a sly curve. He leaned in conspiratorially. She waited for him to say