Screenland Plus TV-Land (Jul 1959 - May 1960)

■ ivhen he tends his menagerie of six dogs, a burro, doves, turtles and other assorted ivild life Scouts holding up a banner identifying me and the show, but the wind was so terrific that it kept knocking the banner and the boys down, so I stopped the car, rolled up the sign and put it and the boys in the car with me. I wasn't going to have those kids knocked around. As a result, during most of the parade, nobody knew who I was until the car came close enough for them to get a look at my face. "When we got to the steps where civic dignitaries were gathered, there were about 5,000 people lined up and I had those two Boy Scouts with me. I wasn't going to stop and get them crushed in the mob. Also, if I had taken time to sign even one autograph, I'd have had to sign about 5,000 since I don't believe in just giving out one or two. This would also have stopped the rest of the parade and I didn't feel I had any right to do that. Such is the story — take it or leave it. Believe me, I'm not anti-autographs, under the right conditions." Ray was reading more letters and a few he turned over to me. Some were rather ecstatic in the romantic department — blushingly so — and others offered illuminating opinions of his work on the show. A good part of his mail comes from people who refuse to believe he is merely an actor playing a lawyer because they ask him to handle cases for them. Others want to apply for the job as his secretary. There are, of course, some proposals of marriage. He handles each letter in the way he believes it deserves. There is a story that proves how Ray regards his fans — although it is one that was never publicized. A short time ago. he got a letter informing him that a little girl of about eight who was a fan of his was seriously burned over two-thirds of her body. She was in a hospital in Worcester, Mass., and it HANDY with a skillet, Ray whips up a fast dinner for himself. Occasional irate letters from cranks bother him not in the least. wasn't certain whether or not she would survive the tragedy. Bay was heading for New York the weekend after he got the letter and he decided to go to Worcester to see the child. Even though it was stormy and bad flying conditions prevailed in the East, and he had to be back in Hollywood Monday morning, he made the trip and spent quite a long time with the grateful girl, cheering her up. At last reports, she was recovering, and undoubtedly Ray s visit had much to do with that recovery. Ray is unique in the Hollywoodlands in that he spends amuch time as he does tending to such things as mail. Not only has he the most rugged schedule of any star on TV but he is also constantly making appearances at benefits and making speeches before legal organizations. In fact, he is now booked for talks through 1960. He works on the set until around seven or later, tends to his business matters, and gets to sleep when he can. He is up each morning about three to go over his lines for the day's shooting with his dialogue director. He has no other time to learn his script. He lives at the studio and goes to his Malibu home only on weekends. He usually arrives there about 3:45 on Saturday afternoons and he's on his way back to the studio at three a.m. Monday morning. Such a schedule has, of course, had its effect on his health. The first couple of years he starred as "Perry Mason", he had serious trouble with his voice. And not too long ago he was in the hospital suffering from exhaustion. He still is not entirely well, but he won't slow down. And he won't turn down any reasonable offer for his services. Last Thanksgiving, for instance, he agreed to do a full continued on page 63 SIAMESE cat was a gift and, while Ray isn't partial to felines, "did you ever hear of anyone throwing a kitten out in the cold?" 45