Davis Bette - This n That

O N J UNE 9, 1983, at The New York Hospital, I had a mastectomy, followed nine days later by a stroke. My doctors felt there was slim chance of my making it.

During my many sleepless nights in The New York Hospital, my uppermost thought was: Would I ever work again? Would I be able to return to my series, Hotel? Why had all this happened to me? It didnt seem fair. Over and over, lying there, I asked, will I ever be able to work again? Bette Davis and her career are one and the same thing. Acting had been my life. I wouldnt want to live if I could never act again.

I was panicked at the thought that I might be an invalid the rest of my life. I would be a burden to my children, to myself, to those who cared about me. Over and over people kept saying how strong I was. Of course I would get well. Of course I would work again. Especially encouraging was my secretary, Kathryn Sermak, who assured me daily, almost hourly, Well make it. Kathryn lived in my hospital room with me all those weeks.

Many times I wasnt strong. At seventy-five I probably didnt have many more years to live anyway. What was the point of the long struggle ahead? To learn to walk again? To unknot my left hand so I could use it again? I gave up so often during those weeks.

During those sleepless nights lying there, I remembered, often with affection, so many people I had worked withsometimes funny incidents, sometimes distressing. I thought particularly about Dark Victory, and I felt a bond with my character, Judith Traherne, who faced death, gallantly. I was trying to do the same. I remembered particularly often the costar I worked with the most, George Brent.

His performance as the doctor in Dark Victory was superb. It made the film a far better one than it would have been without him. I had fallen in love with George during the filming of The Rich Are Always with Us, many years ago. He, in turn, fell in love with the star, Ruth Chatterton. They were married after the completion of the film and eventually were divorced. George fell in love with me during the filming of Dark Victory. During our romance, he gave me a charm bracelet with the letters B-E-T-T-E in diamonds. I was a little less enchanted when he said, as I was oohing and aahing over it, Im glad you have such a short name.

George owned an airplane. When he had to play a part he didnt like, he would often buzz the studio in his plane, stopping all work and losing money for Warner Bros.

Many guilts of mine came back to me lying there. My third husband, William Grant Sherry, and I had a daughter. We called her B.D. for the initials of her first and middle names, Barbara Davis. I did not give her a father she could adore. Sherryhot-tempered, brutalmust often have frightened her as he did me. I should never have married him, in case we did have a child. Even more thoughtless to marry Gary Merrill, without being sure he loved B.D. He was anything but fatherly to her. I accept guilt for choosing both of these men as B.D.s father. I finally admitted to myself that this is why she married an older man at such a young age. She was looking for a father. Jeremy Hyman was thirty when they married; B.D. was sixteen. All these many thoughts kept going back and forth in my head.