Cagney by Cagney
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This book is for the true fan of James Cagney. Mr. Cagney tells his story as no one can.
experienced. I want the full benefit of all that experience. We think you know your business. Anything that occurs to you, please let me know—because I can’t think of everything. So—if you would do me the favor of speaking up? All right now, let’s go to work.” Naturally, with such a complete professional in control, there was no need for us to give him anything. 7. One of the few—perhaps the only Irish actor-able to read this Jewish-directed advertisement for Taxi! (1932) was its star. 8. With
about it.” “I’ll never do it again,” he said—and as far as I know he never has. Making pictures then was a fatiguing business, and in my next, Mayor of Hell, it was the old mixture as before, only more so. As a crook who helped reform a reform school, I was kept plenty busy, and I mean literally to all hours. Frequently we worked until three or four in the morning. I’d look over and there’d be the director, Archie Mayo, sitting with his head thrown back, sawing away. He was tired; we were all
threw that loop button-bright right over the neck of Ward’s horse. I held on to the rope for just a brief second, then let go—otherwise I’d have taken Ward right off his perch. The director, Lloyd Bacon, yelled “Cut!” “Why didn’t you hang on?” Lloyd asked me. “What did you want me to do—kill Ward?” Lloyd said merrily, “Why not?” So the shot turned out to be effective. The wrangler who showed me the basics came over to me and said very skeptically, “So you never threw a rope before?” “So help
strike again—no. It never does. Upon retirement, I soon found that there weren’t enough hours in the day. When one begins to give full time to beauty in all its myriad forms, the hours close in. I cannot ever remember not being moved, and I mean most deeply, by beauty. Once I was looking at the charming ballet dancer, Harriet Hoctor. Instead of landing from one of her ascents, she settled to the ground like some ethereal bird. Watching her, I burst suddenly into tears, not loudly but enough for
interesting irony, it was this very rule that cost Jack his championship. Seven years later, when he was fighting Gene Tunney, Dempsey knocked him to the canvas and completely forgot the neutral-corner rule. The referee had to stop and insist that Dempsey go to a far corner, and by the time the count was started there was enough delay for Tunney to gather his strength and come back to win. The neutral-corner rule was necessary because it made a prize fight a genuine contest rather than a