Photoplay (Jan-Jun 1963)

(although we’ve never met each other) and t hat they are being friendly to the children. “But I can never be sure.” A short while ago Nick Adams posted guards around his easily accessible house to keep an eye on his youngsters after he received some strange, middle-of-the-night phone calls. Ann Sothern not only hired a combination chauffeur-bodyguard to accompany ber daughter Tish to and from school, she created a teenager’s paradise at home so that Tish would rather bring friends there than ask permission to go out. For the pleasure of the teenage gang. Ann converted the study into a game room with hi-fi, television and an adjacent terrace for dancing. Ping-pong tables, tennis courts and a swimming pool lay just beyond French doors, and, on the far side of the pool, Ann set up a private ice-cream parlor, complete with a soda fountain. Sherry has said wistfully, “I suppose that the idea of marrying a star sounds attractive to most girls. But I’ve had a chance to find out to a degree what it would mean. “For example, when we came back from Rome, I'd been up for sixteen hours. I’d been traveling for about nine. I was tired and a mess. My clothes were wrinkled and my hair needed to be fixed, and all I wanted to do was get off the jdane and go rest and clean up. “I certainly didn't want to have my picture taken. But the minute we stepped off the plane, we were encircled by photographers. “I know I have no right to complain. Honestly, I’m not complaining, because for Vince’s sake I’m so glad the photographers were there. If they hadn’t been there, then we would have had a problem. “But I just don’t believe I want my life encircled by cameras. “Our lives — Vince’s and mine — began to change about last November, about a month after his show went on the air. At about that time people began to stop us on the streets and follow us until we gave up going to the places that we had gone before all this happened to us. “However, I had never really seen a crowd of fans turn into a mob until the night of the Academy Awards presentations. Unless you’ve seen something like that, you can't imagine it.” Dragged to the Awards Sherry was so frightened the night of the Awards presentations that Vince had to pull her from the automobile to go into the auditorium. To the girl cringing against the car seat, the boiling ocean of people that surrounded her was a threatening, roaring sea. It swept and swelled against the sides of the automobile, washing away police officers and ropes that tried to hold it back and allow a clear walkway into the auditorium. Each rushing wave was crested with shouting, open mouths and snatching hands — or so it seemed to Sherry. She closed her eyes, but she couldn’t close her ears to the cry of the crowd when it saw Vince Edwards. “I can’t get out,” she said. Vince was holding her firmly by the wrist, pulling. His face was a mask of pleasant gallantry. As far as his fans could see, he was simply assisting his date from the car, but in his eyes and in his grasp was determination. Determination to get Sherry into the auditorium without a scene and a total lack of understanding of her fear. He’d waited a long time for this frenzied acclaim. For him the hysterical screams of his worshippers were sweetest music. “Please,” Sherry said. “I’m afraid.” The ravenous, howling ocean outside the car seemed ready to smother her, rip her apart, batter her to death. “I had to be pulled from the car,” Sherry said, remembering her fright. “And that crowd was more or less controlled.” In giving the reasons why she’s afraid to marry Vince Edwards, Sherry failed to mention one characteristic of stardom which seems to have affected Dr. Ben Continued from page 55 then go!” By now, I was so annoyed, I forgot to be frightened. “Well, then, say it,” I said impatiently. “Stop acting like a child! Only children act this way.” He eyed me with suspicion. “I know the whole story,” he suddenly exclaimed. “I know why you want to come in and look around!” I glanced around the room to see what he meant. I saw piles of theatrical trade papers and religious articles on the table. Also, I saw girlie photos cut out from men’s magazines and pinned on the p wall, with moustaches and other distortions pencilled on. I had the uncomfortable feeling I was 74 in the presence of a very disturbed person, perhaps a deranged person. I didn’t like the pencilled obscenities on the photographs. Now he was looking at me piercingly and said, “Okay . . . You really wanted to know about me! It was a pretense! You are trying to find out about me! You knew I was not easy to attract!” Now I was sure I was faced with danger. I could feel my heart pounding wildly. I knew that he was building up to an emotional explosion, and I tried to put on an act of calmness. “I don’t know you,” I assured him, quietly. “You mean nothing to me. I haven’t been trying to attract you. I don’t know what you want from me.” I knew I was trembling and I was worried that he might notice it and overpower me. He started to shout at me. “When you went to my apartment to get the screwdriver so I could jimmy open your window . . . Well, you did that so you could snoop around!” “Please!” I protested. “I’m not interested Casey and which his wife might find objectionable. Sherry spoke only of her fear of fans in numbers, not the fans who individually pant after Vince. But a single admirer could do more damage to a marriage than a mob. And television’s glowering doctor is not immune to feminine wiles. Girls who have business of one kind or another on the set cluster around him. Typically, one afternoon a blonde who was appearing in the episode kept offering Edwards a sip of soda pop from the bottle from which she was drinking. He declined (you could hardly expect a doctor — even a television M.D. — to accept such an unsanitary advance), but he didn’t decline to ask the blonde where she was from, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. According to gossip, he’s asked a few of the girls for their home addresses and phone numbers. “For a fellow who is going steady,” a co-worker marveled, “he certainly knows a lot of girls.” A star’s wife knows that her husband is constantly exposed to beautiful women. He’s constantly exposed, too, to women who want him. “Don’t tell me,” wise little Connie Stevens said once, “that an actor doesn’t get a kick out of playing opposite a pretty girl. Sure he does. He’s human, you know.” And Sherry knows Vince is human. She didn’t mention his exposure to beautiful girls, but her awareness of it may be too painful to discuss. “Vince hasn’t asked me not to date other people,” Sherry said, “but I don’t, because I’m out with him all the time. “Where will it end? How long will I keep dating him if we aren’t going to get married? I just don’t know. I think he’s a wonderful person, and I’m glad he’s become so successful. “But as for the two of us — I don’t know. I wanted to marry him before, but now I’m afraid.” — Nancy Anderson Vince Edwards stars in “Ben Casey,” Mondays 10 to 11 P.M.. EST. ABC-TV. His next film is Columbia’s “The Victors.’ in what’s in your apartment, not at all." I knew without doubt now that he was sick, very sick! I knew I should get out. And fast. Then he sprang toward me, shouting, "Don’t leave!” Although I was terrified, I said firmly. “I am going to get out of here.” He shouted at me. “Now I’ve found out what you really are . . . you're not getting away! . . . I’ve got you now!” I was terrified, but I put on an Academywinning performance of nonchalance. Suddenly, he shouted, “AH right! You can leave!” “I certainly will leave!” I snapped. “Go!” he yelled. “Something’s wrong with you!” I blurted out, forgetting it would have been wiser to run away quickly. “This is not the end! I’m going to see you in court!” he flung at me, as I ran out of the building and into my uncle’s house next door. I was hysterical. I threw the papers and groceries down, and sobbed out the story about the mad boy. My uncle listened quietly, and said, “1