Some Mothers Shouldn’t Be a
Boy’s Best Friend (Part 1):
Psycho - Book and Film Origins
By Jim Nemeth
Boy’s Best Friend (Part 1):
Psycho - Book and Film Origins
By Jim Nemeth
Alfred Hitchcock, upon the release of Psycho, in 1960, found himself on the receiving end of plaudits for the many cinematic “innovations” he brought to the film, such as the audacity of depicting a murder in a bathroom shower, as well as the killing off of a major character less than half way into the story…among others. Those giving such laudatory remarks were ignorant of the fact that, while Hitchcock certainly added his usual panache in the execution of the screenplay by Joseph Stefano, all the main elements of the film, particularly the “innovations,” as Hitchcock himself often credited: “…came from Robert Bloch’s book.”
Regarding: Bloch was shocked near the end of 1957 to learn of the gruesome reports coming out of the small town of Plainfield, Wisconsin surrounding one of its residents, Edward Gein. Gein had become a suspect in the recent disappearance of local female hardware store owner, Bernice Worden. During a search of his property, police discovered to their horror the decapitated body of Worden hanging in a shed. Authorities additionally found a staggering amount of various human body parts, which Gein accumulated through the years via innumerous exhumations of dead bodies from the graves of local cemeteries. As shocking as Gein’s actions must have been to Bloch, the horror must certainly have been heightened for the writer by the fact that he lived, at the time, in Weyauwega, Wisconsin…a mere 40 miles away from Gein!
Local small-town papers were reluctant to acknowledge, let alone print, details of Gein’s ghastly deeds. As such, Bloch could collect only scant information surrounding the case; Bloch would only come to learn the full account of Gein’s horrendous crimes years later. Even so, Bloch came to an idea for a novel. It would be based, not on Gein himself, but on the extraordinary situation of how a seemingly ‘normal’ and respected resident of a small rural town could get away with such unspeakable acts for so long a period of time.
Bloch thus began to give consideration to the major elements needed to tell his story. Foremost, he needed an arresting lead character. In Randall Larson’s 1989 The Robert Bloch Companion: Collected Interviews 1969-1986, Bloch revealed his thought process behind the development of the man who would become Norman Bates:
"I began to speculate what kind of person this individual might be, and at once came up with the notion that he probably was a schizoid personality and that it would be much more convincing if he himself wasn’t aware of his own crimes, rather than have to go through elaborate efforts to conceal them knowingly. What would motivate him? I came up with the Oedipal situation and the transvestite thing, which was pretty offbeat at the time…My feeling was that if he were going to unconsciously impersonate his mother, he’d go all the way. It was also a useful device in the mystification of the plot. If Norman believes his mother is alive and other people see evidence of that, then, the reader will believe it too. It worked."
Bloch next needed to devise a way to logically replicate Gein’s supreme accomplishment—that of having his lead character’s crimes go undetected for an extended period of time. Bloch finally hit on the idea that setting his character to running a motel in a rural, off-the-beaten-path location provided the necessary believable explanation for his character living a solitary, isolated life. Lastly, Bloch conceived a masterstroke—creating an additional character, a female protagonist for whom Bloch would gain readers’ sympathy and then shockingly kill off in only the third chapter.
After working out remaining plot and character points, writing went smoothly for Bloch, who completed the novel in roughly seven weeks’ time. Psycho was subsequently published by Simon & Schuster in January 1959 to generally favorable reviews, with the novel even earning positive mention in the revered New York Times. The book was an instant hit with readers, with its initial hardcover print run selling out quickly. Alfred Hitchcock then released his cinematic adaptation the following year, becoming a box office success beyond anyone’s imagining.
In The Making of Psycho documentary feature which accompanied the 50th anniversary DVD release of the film, we learn that shortly upon the publication of Psycho, it came to the attention of Hitchcock, who, according to the director’s personal assistant, Peggy Robertson:
We were on North by Northwest, and we weren't looking for the next one, particularly. And it wasn't until we finished shooting, and we were preparing for postproduction... Hitchy would read the New York Times book section over the weekend or bring it into the office on Monday. We saw this very good review by [Anthony] Boucher on this book, Psycho. So Hitch said, "Call Paramount and get coverage on it." Paramount hadn't covered it, and Hitch went over to England. As he was at the airport, he saw shelves of this book, Psycho. He called me and said, "Haven't you got coverage from Paramount yet?" I said, "Paramount didn't cover it." He said, "All right." He got the book and read it going over. He called back from London to say, "I've got our next subject: Psycho.
Hitchcock acquired the film rights to the book in short order. This, in turn, should have translated into a great financial boon for Bloch. Sadly, this was not the case due not only to questionable tactics on the part of agents for Hitchcock (and, one could argue, Hitchcock himself) but also to Bloch’s contract with his publisher. At the time, Bloch and his agent were approached by the MCA talent agency, who presented a blind buy (purchaser not identified) offer of $5000 for the book’s film rights. Bloch instructed his agent to hold out, resulting in a second offer of $9500. Bloch accepted this offer, eager for both the money and the hopeful boost to his career that the sale might represent. He did not discover that the rights had been sold to Hitchcock until sometime later. After taxes and agent/publisher cuts, Bloch netted only a little over $6000 from said acquisition. The author suffered an additional, more anguishing blow when he learned that he would not share in the film’s box office success—his contract with publisher Simon & Schuster did not allow for a percentage of the film’s profits upon sale of the film rights.
With the film rights in place, Hitchcock next needed a screenwriter. As Peggy Robertson recalls (again from the Making of Psycho documentary):
"We were looking for a writer and someone suggested James Cavanagh, who wrote some of the Alfred Hitchcock Presents television shows. I don't remember the meetings they had, but when we got the treatment, we read it, and it was very dull. If you can imagine a dull script written from the book Psycho. It just didn't have anything. So then it was decided, we need another writer. "Who are we going to get?" And then names were suggested. And Hitch thought a lot of [talent agent] Ned Brown, and Ned suggested Joseph Stefano."
Hitchcock, happiest when surrounded with people he knew and trusted, was reluctant to meet with the neophyte Stefano. For the writer, new to the worlds of Hollywood and scriptwriting, possessed at this point but a handful of credits, none of which Hitchcock was particularly impressed with. However, after some persistence on the part of Brown and other interested parties, Hitchcock relented and agreed to speak with Stefano. The scripter pitched his thoughts in their initial meeting on translating Bloch’s novel to the screen. Hitchcock liked what he heard, particularly the writer’s idea to expand the role of Mary Crane and open the film with her, rather than with Norman, as does the novel. Shortly after, Hitchcock, sufficiently impressed, hired Stefano as the screenwriter for his forty-seventh feature film.
Joseph Stefano’s (1922-2006) interest in entertaining audiences developed at an early age. Adept at dancing, singing, and writing music, he composed the material for a number of high school productions in which he appeared. He took off for NYC mere weeks before his high school graduation, where he sang and danced in small clubs. Later, he came to write songs for other nightclub performers, as well as for Las Vegas showman, Donn Arden. In the early 1950s, his nightclub/composing experience proved beneficial when hired to write for the Ted Mack Family Hour, a weekly variety show that featured cabaret and stage talent.
Later in the decade, Stefano shifted his focus toward writing for film. His first effort was an uncredited contribution to the 1958 Gina Lollobrigida vehicle, Fast & Sexy. This led to producer Carlo Ponti tapping the writer to script Black Orchid (1958), a Mafia melodrama starring Sophia Loren and Anthony Quinn. Stefano followed this success with a foray into television, co-writing with Leslie Stevens in 1959 the teleplay drama “Made in Japan,” an acclaimed entry in the prestigious Playhouse 90 series (this episode is notable for the debut of future Star Trek helmsman, George “Lieutenant Sulu” Takei). Stefano’s biggest career assignment came later that year as Hitchcock’s choice to adapt Bloch’s Psycho. On the heels of that film’s enormous success, Hitchcock offered Stefano the opportunity to script Marnie (1964), the director’s expected next film (later, when lead actress Grace Kelly withdrew from the picture, Hitchcock shelved the project and instead commenced work on The Birds). Stefano declined the director’s offer, as he had already committed himself to write and co-produce The Outer Limits, a new science fiction-themed anthology television series created by former Playhouse 90 collaborator Leslie Stevens. Stefano left the series after only its first season, due to exhaustion and escalating conflicts with network execs. Following his stint on Limits, Stefano’s career never quite matched the level of success and prestige previously enjoyed. While he continued to work steadily, primarily for television, efforts such as Snowbeast (TV movie; 1977) and Swamp Thing (TV series; 1990) were hardly of the caliber of what had come before. Stefano even returned to his Psycho roots in 1990 with the TV movie, Psycho IV: The Beginning, but this attempt to capture lightning in a bottle was but a sad coda to the saga of Norman Bates.
Before commencing work on the Psycho screenplay, Stefano spent several weeks in September of 1959 consulting with Hitchcock on the story. There, Stefano reflected on the challenges in translating Bloch’s novel to the screen. Of these, Stefano pondered solutions for what he considered to be the two most problematic—both of which centered on his lead character.
First, there was Norman Bates himself. Bloch’s novel opens on Norman—a middle-aged (40), unkempt, balding, heavyset drinker—who then remains center stage (more or less) for the remainder of the book. Stefano felt that audiences would not support such an unlikable character for the duration of the entire film. During one of their story conferences, Hitchcock told the writer to imagine Anthony Perkins in the role of Norman (as Hitchcock would soon get Perkins cheaply for his film due to Perkins’ contractual obligations to the studio). Stefano thus set to writing Norman as thin, young, and amiable—a character that audiences could much more easily accept and sympathize with.
Even with the problem of his main character’s “likability” thus resolved, there remained for Stefano the issue of having Norman as the film’s main focus from the start. Keeping it so would only compound the challenge of Mother’s “secret” remaining under (mummified) wraps. And so Stefano conceived the idea to expand the role of victim-to-be Mary Crane and make her, not Norman, the early focus of the film. Stefano also felt it necessary to “soften” Mary’s rougher edges from the novel in order to make her a more sympathetic character. By implementing these changes, Stefano felt that audiences would come to care for Marion, which could only heighten the impact of her shocking departure mid-point in the film.
With the main challenges to adapting the novel now resolved, Stefano commenced work on the screenplay. He completed a final draft in early November of 1959.
Filming on Psycho began on November 30, 1959 and completed on February 1, 1960; Hitchcock required seven days to shoot the intricate shower sequence.
Psycho was a huge hit with the public upon its release on June 16, 1960, breaking attendance and box office records across the country. Critically, however, the film met with mixed reviews. Some critics were particularly hostile, their negativity believed, by many, to be a result of Hitchcock not allowing the typical preview screenings for reviewers. Critics had to see the film for the first time along with the general public and bruised critical egos can easily lead to less than objective reviews. Bloch himself was extremely happy with the outcome, relieved that a great majority of his book remained unchanged and intact in the resulting film.
The success of Psycho spawned immediate cinematic imitations of decidedly lesser quality. Hitchcock’s film is often credited as having opened the door to the entire “slasher” film genre. In perhaps the most extreme example of the adage “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery,” director Gus (Good Will Hunting) Van Sant released in 1990 what was, except for some minor deviations, an almost identical, shot-for-shot color remake of the 1960 classic. Then, as now, the public and critics scratched their heads and asked “Why?”
The film’s success spilled over into Robert Bloch’s life as well. Sales of the novel skyrocketed with demand resulting in numerous printings and publication in a number of languages. The most significant effect on Bloch’s life, however, was the creation of a permanent and unshakable association between the author and what became his literary “Frankenstein Monster.” Bloch would forever after be known as the “Author of Psycho,” a label that would stick with the writer, and accompany practically everything that bore his name, until his passing in 1994—and beyond. Sadly, the ever-present specters of Norman Bates and his maternal alter-ego overshadowed all the author’s post-Psycho accomplishments. For it was the rare interview or other media event where the discussion would not invariably turn from Bloch’s latest project to some aspect of Psycho—be it film, book, or inspiration. Or, in interactions with fans, there inevitably came the confession, “I’ve not been able to take a shower since!” Bloch reflected on these “admissions” with characteristic wit in his 1993 Once Around the Bloch: An Unauthorized Autobiography:
"From time-to-time people come to me and volunteer the information that after seeing the film they were unable to take a shower. I can only tell them that they’re lucky I didn’t kill off my victim on a toilet seat."
Notwithstanding these, with invariable good grace, Bloch eventually came to accept, if not necessarily embrace, his PSYCHOtic association and the baggage that came with it…
The original, expanded version of this essay appeared in It Came From: The Stories and Novels Behind Classic Horror, Fantasy, and Science Fiction Films by Jim Nemeth and Bob Madison (Midnight Marquee Press; 2020). The essay appears here with the permission of its author, Jim Nemeth.
Regarding: Bloch was shocked near the end of 1957 to learn of the gruesome reports coming out of the small town of Plainfield, Wisconsin surrounding one of its residents, Edward Gein. Gein had become a suspect in the recent disappearance of local female hardware store owner, Bernice Worden. During a search of his property, police discovered to their horror the decapitated body of Worden hanging in a shed. Authorities additionally found a staggering amount of various human body parts, which Gein accumulated through the years via innumerous exhumations of dead bodies from the graves of local cemeteries. As shocking as Gein’s actions must have been to Bloch, the horror must certainly have been heightened for the writer by the fact that he lived, at the time, in Weyauwega, Wisconsin…a mere 40 miles away from Gein!
Local small-town papers were reluctant to acknowledge, let alone print, details of Gein’s ghastly deeds. As such, Bloch could collect only scant information surrounding the case; Bloch would only come to learn the full account of Gein’s horrendous crimes years later. Even so, Bloch came to an idea for a novel. It would be based, not on Gein himself, but on the extraordinary situation of how a seemingly ‘normal’ and respected resident of a small rural town could get away with such unspeakable acts for so long a period of time.
Bloch thus began to give consideration to the major elements needed to tell his story. Foremost, he needed an arresting lead character. In Randall Larson’s 1989 The Robert Bloch Companion: Collected Interviews 1969-1986, Bloch revealed his thought process behind the development of the man who would become Norman Bates:
"I began to speculate what kind of person this individual might be, and at once came up with the notion that he probably was a schizoid personality and that it would be much more convincing if he himself wasn’t aware of his own crimes, rather than have to go through elaborate efforts to conceal them knowingly. What would motivate him? I came up with the Oedipal situation and the transvestite thing, which was pretty offbeat at the time…My feeling was that if he were going to unconsciously impersonate his mother, he’d go all the way. It was also a useful device in the mystification of the plot. If Norman believes his mother is alive and other people see evidence of that, then, the reader will believe it too. It worked."
Bloch next needed to devise a way to logically replicate Gein’s supreme accomplishment—that of having his lead character’s crimes go undetected for an extended period of time. Bloch finally hit on the idea that setting his character to running a motel in a rural, off-the-beaten-path location provided the necessary believable explanation for his character living a solitary, isolated life. Lastly, Bloch conceived a masterstroke—creating an additional character, a female protagonist for whom Bloch would gain readers’ sympathy and then shockingly kill off in only the third chapter.
After working out remaining plot and character points, writing went smoothly for Bloch, who completed the novel in roughly seven weeks’ time. Psycho was subsequently published by Simon & Schuster in January 1959 to generally favorable reviews, with the novel even earning positive mention in the revered New York Times. The book was an instant hit with readers, with its initial hardcover print run selling out quickly. Alfred Hitchcock then released his cinematic adaptation the following year, becoming a box office success beyond anyone’s imagining.
In The Making of Psycho documentary feature which accompanied the 50th anniversary DVD release of the film, we learn that shortly upon the publication of Psycho, it came to the attention of Hitchcock, who, according to the director’s personal assistant, Peggy Robertson:
We were on North by Northwest, and we weren't looking for the next one, particularly. And it wasn't until we finished shooting, and we were preparing for postproduction... Hitchy would read the New York Times book section over the weekend or bring it into the office on Monday. We saw this very good review by [Anthony] Boucher on this book, Psycho. So Hitch said, "Call Paramount and get coverage on it." Paramount hadn't covered it, and Hitch went over to England. As he was at the airport, he saw shelves of this book, Psycho. He called me and said, "Haven't you got coverage from Paramount yet?" I said, "Paramount didn't cover it." He said, "All right." He got the book and read it going over. He called back from London to say, "I've got our next subject: Psycho.
Hitchcock acquired the film rights to the book in short order. This, in turn, should have translated into a great financial boon for Bloch. Sadly, this was not the case due not only to questionable tactics on the part of agents for Hitchcock (and, one could argue, Hitchcock himself) but also to Bloch’s contract with his publisher. At the time, Bloch and his agent were approached by the MCA talent agency, who presented a blind buy (purchaser not identified) offer of $5000 for the book’s film rights. Bloch instructed his agent to hold out, resulting in a second offer of $9500. Bloch accepted this offer, eager for both the money and the hopeful boost to his career that the sale might represent. He did not discover that the rights had been sold to Hitchcock until sometime later. After taxes and agent/publisher cuts, Bloch netted only a little over $6000 from said acquisition. The author suffered an additional, more anguishing blow when he learned that he would not share in the film’s box office success—his contract with publisher Simon & Schuster did not allow for a percentage of the film’s profits upon sale of the film rights.
With the film rights in place, Hitchcock next needed a screenwriter. As Peggy Robertson recalls (again from the Making of Psycho documentary):
"We were looking for a writer and someone suggested James Cavanagh, who wrote some of the Alfred Hitchcock Presents television shows. I don't remember the meetings they had, but when we got the treatment, we read it, and it was very dull. If you can imagine a dull script written from the book Psycho. It just didn't have anything. So then it was decided, we need another writer. "Who are we going to get?" And then names were suggested. And Hitch thought a lot of [talent agent] Ned Brown, and Ned suggested Joseph Stefano."
Hitchcock, happiest when surrounded with people he knew and trusted, was reluctant to meet with the neophyte Stefano. For the writer, new to the worlds of Hollywood and scriptwriting, possessed at this point but a handful of credits, none of which Hitchcock was particularly impressed with. However, after some persistence on the part of Brown and other interested parties, Hitchcock relented and agreed to speak with Stefano. The scripter pitched his thoughts in their initial meeting on translating Bloch’s novel to the screen. Hitchcock liked what he heard, particularly the writer’s idea to expand the role of Mary Crane and open the film with her, rather than with Norman, as does the novel. Shortly after, Hitchcock, sufficiently impressed, hired Stefano as the screenwriter for his forty-seventh feature film.
Joseph Stefano’s (1922-2006) interest in entertaining audiences developed at an early age. Adept at dancing, singing, and writing music, he composed the material for a number of high school productions in which he appeared. He took off for NYC mere weeks before his high school graduation, where he sang and danced in small clubs. Later, he came to write songs for other nightclub performers, as well as for Las Vegas showman, Donn Arden. In the early 1950s, his nightclub/composing experience proved beneficial when hired to write for the Ted Mack Family Hour, a weekly variety show that featured cabaret and stage talent.
Later in the decade, Stefano shifted his focus toward writing for film. His first effort was an uncredited contribution to the 1958 Gina Lollobrigida vehicle, Fast & Sexy. This led to producer Carlo Ponti tapping the writer to script Black Orchid (1958), a Mafia melodrama starring Sophia Loren and Anthony Quinn. Stefano followed this success with a foray into television, co-writing with Leslie Stevens in 1959 the teleplay drama “Made in Japan,” an acclaimed entry in the prestigious Playhouse 90 series (this episode is notable for the debut of future Star Trek helmsman, George “Lieutenant Sulu” Takei). Stefano’s biggest career assignment came later that year as Hitchcock’s choice to adapt Bloch’s Psycho. On the heels of that film’s enormous success, Hitchcock offered Stefano the opportunity to script Marnie (1964), the director’s expected next film (later, when lead actress Grace Kelly withdrew from the picture, Hitchcock shelved the project and instead commenced work on The Birds). Stefano declined the director’s offer, as he had already committed himself to write and co-produce The Outer Limits, a new science fiction-themed anthology television series created by former Playhouse 90 collaborator Leslie Stevens. Stefano left the series after only its first season, due to exhaustion and escalating conflicts with network execs. Following his stint on Limits, Stefano’s career never quite matched the level of success and prestige previously enjoyed. While he continued to work steadily, primarily for television, efforts such as Snowbeast (TV movie; 1977) and Swamp Thing (TV series; 1990) were hardly of the caliber of what had come before. Stefano even returned to his Psycho roots in 1990 with the TV movie, Psycho IV: The Beginning, but this attempt to capture lightning in a bottle was but a sad coda to the saga of Norman Bates.
Before commencing work on the Psycho screenplay, Stefano spent several weeks in September of 1959 consulting with Hitchcock on the story. There, Stefano reflected on the challenges in translating Bloch’s novel to the screen. Of these, Stefano pondered solutions for what he considered to be the two most problematic—both of which centered on his lead character.
First, there was Norman Bates himself. Bloch’s novel opens on Norman—a middle-aged (40), unkempt, balding, heavyset drinker—who then remains center stage (more or less) for the remainder of the book. Stefano felt that audiences would not support such an unlikable character for the duration of the entire film. During one of their story conferences, Hitchcock told the writer to imagine Anthony Perkins in the role of Norman (as Hitchcock would soon get Perkins cheaply for his film due to Perkins’ contractual obligations to the studio). Stefano thus set to writing Norman as thin, young, and amiable—a character that audiences could much more easily accept and sympathize with.
Even with the problem of his main character’s “likability” thus resolved, there remained for Stefano the issue of having Norman as the film’s main focus from the start. Keeping it so would only compound the challenge of Mother’s “secret” remaining under (mummified) wraps. And so Stefano conceived the idea to expand the role of victim-to-be Mary Crane and make her, not Norman, the early focus of the film. Stefano also felt it necessary to “soften” Mary’s rougher edges from the novel in order to make her a more sympathetic character. By implementing these changes, Stefano felt that audiences would come to care for Marion, which could only heighten the impact of her shocking departure mid-point in the film.
With the main challenges to adapting the novel now resolved, Stefano commenced work on the screenplay. He completed a final draft in early November of 1959.
Filming on Psycho began on November 30, 1959 and completed on February 1, 1960; Hitchcock required seven days to shoot the intricate shower sequence.
Psycho was a huge hit with the public upon its release on June 16, 1960, breaking attendance and box office records across the country. Critically, however, the film met with mixed reviews. Some critics were particularly hostile, their negativity believed, by many, to be a result of Hitchcock not allowing the typical preview screenings for reviewers. Critics had to see the film for the first time along with the general public and bruised critical egos can easily lead to less than objective reviews. Bloch himself was extremely happy with the outcome, relieved that a great majority of his book remained unchanged and intact in the resulting film.
The success of Psycho spawned immediate cinematic imitations of decidedly lesser quality. Hitchcock’s film is often credited as having opened the door to the entire “slasher” film genre. In perhaps the most extreme example of the adage “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery,” director Gus (Good Will Hunting) Van Sant released in 1990 what was, except for some minor deviations, an almost identical, shot-for-shot color remake of the 1960 classic. Then, as now, the public and critics scratched their heads and asked “Why?”
The film’s success spilled over into Robert Bloch’s life as well. Sales of the novel skyrocketed with demand resulting in numerous printings and publication in a number of languages. The most significant effect on Bloch’s life, however, was the creation of a permanent and unshakable association between the author and what became his literary “Frankenstein Monster.” Bloch would forever after be known as the “Author of Psycho,” a label that would stick with the writer, and accompany practically everything that bore his name, until his passing in 1994—and beyond. Sadly, the ever-present specters of Norman Bates and his maternal alter-ego overshadowed all the author’s post-Psycho accomplishments. For it was the rare interview or other media event where the discussion would not invariably turn from Bloch’s latest project to some aspect of Psycho—be it film, book, or inspiration. Or, in interactions with fans, there inevitably came the confession, “I’ve not been able to take a shower since!” Bloch reflected on these “admissions” with characteristic wit in his 1993 Once Around the Bloch: An Unauthorized Autobiography:
"From time-to-time people come to me and volunteer the information that after seeing the film they were unable to take a shower. I can only tell them that they’re lucky I didn’t kill off my victim on a toilet seat."
Notwithstanding these, with invariable good grace, Bloch eventually came to accept, if not necessarily embrace, his PSYCHOtic association and the baggage that came with it…
The original, expanded version of this essay appeared in It Came From: The Stories and Novels Behind Classic Horror, Fantasy, and Science Fiction Films by Jim Nemeth and Bob Madison (Midnight Marquee Press; 2020). The essay appears here with the permission of its author, Jim Nemeth.