Hollywood: The Oral History

by Jeanine Basinger

Dumont was a dear woman. She could take it. She had innate dignity. Whatever those crazy Marx Brothers did to kid her around, she’d always say, “Oh, you funny boys, don’t do that.” She didn’t have a hair on her head. She was absolutely bald. She wore a wig which Harpo used to steal. When we were on tour, she’d have to get off the train with a little turban that said PULLMAN on it! She was great, she was really the fourth Marx brother. Her dignity, they’d play against that dignity, she never tried to get laughs on her own. She was absolutely superb. Years later, after her time with the Marx Brothers, when I was directing my first picture, Billy Rose’s Diamond Horseshoe, there was a scene in which Betty Grable has a dream. She goes to meet Mrs. Richbitch (I forget what the name really was). She walks up a tremendous flight of stairs, wearing a beautiful mink coat, and at the top is the grande dame. All the character had to say was, “Good evening, my dear, so good of you to come.” When I started to think about casting it, I said, “Maggie Dumont.” I knew she was still alive, because every afternoon she would have tea at the Knickerbocker Hotel. So I called her, and I said, “Maggie, I’m doing a film. There’s a small part, not very much, but if you’d like to do a favor for me—” “Oh, my dear boy, of course, of course. But send me a script, I want to see if I’m right for the part.” So I sent her the script. Now, literally, all she said was “So good of you to come, my dear.” So she...