In the movies, he was typecast early as urbane, unctuous and utterly wicked. Did he enjoy playing villains? “Purely in an academic way,” Macready once said. “At heart, I am a kind man.”
He sure fooled a lot of people. A dapper, silver-haired sophisticate with clipped, perfect diction and an insidious-looking facial scar – the result of a college car accident – Macready (pronounced mack-creedy; think "Mac-Creepy") was a memorable heavy in scores of films and TV appearances from the 1940s into the early ‘70s.
George Macready Played Rita Hayworth's Sinister Husband in Gilda
Indeed, his imperious, silky malevolence, equally mixing vitality and venality, was at the heart of Macready's best known roles, including Rita Hayworth’s scheming husband in Gilda, the vainglorious French army general in director Stanley Kubrick’s Paths of Glory and the evil, manipulative patriarch of TV’s Peyton Place.
Onscreen, he could be terrifyingly nasty; in real life, Macready was a cultured, sophisticated art collector and dealer.
George Peabody Macready of Providence, Rhode Island was born in the final year of the 19th century. Indeed, his onscreen courtliness, even playing edgy, dastardly types, always seemed consistent with the image of a 19th Century gentleman.
As a freshman at Brown University, the theater buff – who claimed to be a descendent of 19th Century Shakespearean William Charles Macready – auditioned for the campus dramatic club. “After I finished, the president of the organization turned to another member, and I heard him ask, ‘What in the world was he saying?’ My name did not appear on the list of dramatic club fledglings the next morning when I hopefully went to look for it.”
But Macready was undeterred.
Automobile Crash Gave Macready His Distinctive Facial Scar
At Brown, he earned a varsity letter in football – not for athletic prowess, but for being the team manager. Macready’s wicked scar was the result of a wintry car wreck which propelled him through the windshield of a Model-T. The only available doctor was a veterinarian, who didn’t wash up properly before stitching Macready up, which resulted in a bad case of scarlet fever.
After graduation in 1921, Macready rebelled against his father, who wanted him to be an engineer. Instead, the wannabe actor worked briefly in a Providence bank, then in an administrative job at the New York Daily News.
But within five years of graduation, he was on Broadway in The Scarlet Letter. Thanks to advice from the classics-oriented, Polish-born director Richard Boleslawski, Macready spent the next few years playing Shakespeare in New York – as Benedick in Much Ado About Nothing and in productions of Macbeth and Romeo and Juliet.
Orson Welles Gets Into George Macready's Pants
Macready was well liked in New York theater circles and counted among his pals Orson Welles, who in 1934 borrowed Macready’s cutaway coat and trousers. Seems Welles was getting married and couldn’t afford formal wear. (In wedding photos, the pants look a little short.)
Macready didn’t try movies until 1942, debuting in the forgotten Commandoes Strike at Dawn. By then, the cultured, art-savvy Macready was partnering in a Beverly Hills gallery with Vincent Price, his close friend from the 1936 New York stage production Victoria Regina, starring Helen Hayes. The Little Gallery’s celebrity-heavy clientele included Tallulah Bankhead, Katharine Hepburn, Greta Garbo and many others. Eventually, Macready and Price closed the gallery because they became too busy making movies.
While he loved the stage, Macready found he actually preferred the atmosphere on movie sets. “New York stage hands are snobbish and rarely speak to actors,” he remarked. “What a difference in Hollywood! Here, prop men, cameramen and script girls all feel they’re part of the family. They give you little suggestions, tip you off to things you should know, beam at you when they like the way you play a scene.”
George Macready a Busy Film Actor For 30 Years
From the 1940s to the early ‘70s, Macready worked steadily in memorable A-pictures, usually playing villains or authority figures. His credits included The Big Clock, Knock on Any Door, Detective Story, Vera Cruz, Seven Days in May, The Great Race and, near the end, Tora! Tora! Tora!
There were also indelible performances in B-movies, including (and especially) My Name is Julia Ross, from B-movie master director Joseph Lewis (Gun Crazy). In this nifty low-budget noir brain-twister, Macready conspires to drive insane a young woman ostensibly hired to care for his elderly mother. The gothic storyline was tailor-made for Macready’s sinister mien and remains among the Hollywood's best-ever Bs.
The role in Julia Ross was perfect for a man who loved brain-twisters. Macready was an avid reader of mystery novels; sometimes, he read them while listening to radio mysteries. He also enjoyed creating crossword puzzles and deciphering cryptograms.
Fans Included Comedian Lenny Bruce
Macready’s voice was so distinctively insinuating that no less than Lenny Bruce incorporated a George Macready impression into his early, conventional standup comedy act.
The actor worked extensively in television from 1952 onward, mostly in guest roles but, as previously mentioned, also as a regular – in this case, the despicable Martin Peyton of the scandal-infested New England town bearing his name.
George Macready’s sole marriage, to actress Elizabeth Dana Patterson, lasted 11 years and produced three children, including son Michael, who directed his father in a pair of low-budget horror films near the end of George Macready’s life.
Macready died of emphysema in 1973 and donated his body to the UCLA medical school.
If he was bothered by the lifelong typecasting, Macready didn’t show it. “I like heavies,” he once said, a twinkle in his eye. “I think there’s a little bit of evil in all of us.”
Sources:
- IMDB.com
- TCM.com
Barry M. Grey - Barry M. Grey is a non-fiction TV writer-producer in Los Angeles whose love of classic film borders on the dangerously obsessive.
