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

"THE GIRL WHO BROKE MY HEART" continued Her pointed affection for me lessened my fear and gave me self-assurance. I was no longer as quiet in her company. I started to assert myself. And by doing so, I talked myself right out of the girl! If only I had shut-up, the affair might have turned out differently. I started worrying about her openly. I asked her not to drive so fast. I cautioned her about some of the company she kept. I was concerned about her studies — about every phase of her life. And thus her strong and silent type had changed into just another boy from a middle-class family who had a big crush on her! The result was that Heidi, who had gone steady with me for several weeks, started dating other boys again. I nearly went out of my mind! I became so jealous that I couldn't sleep at night. Sometimes I would follow her around to see whom she was with. Needless to say, this didn't do me any good. Finally, she refused to go out with me altogether. I decided to make one final attempt to get back in her good graces. And so I sent her a note pleading, "I've got to see you just once more." She agreed to go back to the same park with me where we had gone on our first date. Before I could confess my undying love for her, she said matter-of-factly, "I'm sorry, Roger, but I just don't care for you anymore." She was just ready to take off again when a gang of motorcyclists tore into the camp ground — there must have been a dozen college students and their girls there — and started to raid it. They were carrying broken bottles, knives, and other deadly weapons. All of us, Heidi and myself included, dashed up the mountain to safety, while the cyclists, about 20 of them, made -a mess of what we'd left behind — food, clothing, cars, and so forth. One of my fraternity brothers who had taken a stroll in the park with his girl, ran into one of the fellows when he returned— he didn't realize there were more — demanded to know what was going on. The next thing he knew was that he was pinned to the ground with the other guys beating the daylight out of him. My own mind worked feverishly. While I didn't particularly care for the guy, I saw a chance to promote my own cause. If I helped him, I figured, I might win Heidi's respect. At this point I was willing to do anything for her, including risking my life, which is exactly what I did. I ran down the hill and charged the group of boys like a flash of lightning. They made short work of me. I was beaten senseless with rocks and sticks, and broken glass, and someone even managed to give me an eight-inch gash in my scalp. Fearing they'd killed me when I passed into unconsciousness, the cyclists fled the 62 scene while the fellows and girls from the fraternity and sorority ran toward me. They found me still breathing, and rushed me to the hospital where 15 stitches were taken in my scalp. I came to again in a hospital bed several hours later, with a terrifying headache. Unknown to me, my exploits had earned me a new nickname — Burt, for Burt Lancaster. Accounts of my deeds, vastly exaggerated, spread all over the campus. Overnight I had become the new hero. Girls were serenading me from the street below my hospital room. Newspapers carried descriptions of the battle, also exaggerated. My professors congratulated me. Best of all, Heidi came back to her hero. She was so proud of me that when I was released from the hospital and we went for walks, she made me unwrap the bandage from my head so everybody could see the stitches in my scalp. Unfortunately, the idyllic situation didn't last. As I grew healthier, interest in me started to sag, and that included Heidi's. And then I had another accident. This one was a simple, unglamourous concussion I earned on the football field, which cost me my scholarship, and my girl. By the time I was discharged from the hospital this time, she had lost all interest in me. But I did benefit from the latest happening in one way. Unable to continue with my football playing, I decided to concentrate on my guitar. I figured that maybe, if my voice was good enough I could serenade myself back into her heart. IT WAS the beginning of a new career — but it had no affect on Heidi whatsoever. When the semester was over, she returned to Los Angeles to enroll in a different college. Nevertheless, when she said goodbye, we promised to write each other regularly. For the next two months, for every letter she wrote I wrote 20. Two weeks before school started, I couldn't stand it anymore. I had to go to Los Angeles to find out how things were between us. I found out. I can still see myself ringing her doorbell. Through it I heard her gay laughter. Oh, how I had missed it! Then the door opened and Heidi came out. A surprised look formed on her face as she recognized me. And then I saw the handsome young man, obviously her escort for the night. "Roger," she said at last, "I want you to meet John Harrington." And to the fellow, "John, this is the boy I told you about, from Nogales." Obviously, John couldn't remember. Then they left me standing, with egg on my face, and some polite excuses why they couldn't ask me to come along. I still didn't have the good sense to head back home. Instead, I came back to her house the following morning, for another heart-to-heart talk. Heidi insisted that while she still liked me, she felt in no way tied to me. Then she suggested that it might be best not HAPPILY wed and dad of two, Roger, here with the family pooch, is a contented man to correspond with each other anymore. Only three days had elapsed from the time I left Nogales till I returned. Yet I felt ten years older. And I hadn't improved in that time. I started to have arguments with my father. I picked fights with my fraternity brothers. My grades went downhill. I was pretty well on the way to ruining myself and my education. My love for Heidi was still too strong to write her off completely. And so, under the pretext of going to California to make my fortune, I quit college and took off to see her again. I reached Los Angeles with only a few dollars in my pocket. I can still see myself walking into a telephone booth near the bus station, and dialing her home number. I got as far as the second letter, then hung up. I dialed again — and again — and again, but I never finished. And then I got mad. I wasn't going to let her get away with it, I told myself. I would show her I was as good as any fellow. I would be a big success someday, and she'd be crawling back to me. It was then that my ambition was born to really make something out of my life. When I returned to Nogales I didn't dilly-dally around any more. I went back to school and studied harder than ever before. I looked for an aim in life. At first, it was to become the best guitarist in the world. When I switched to acting, I wanted to become a real professional. And I was willing to make every necessary sacrifice for it. It seems a typical paradox of life that when I finally started to succeed in what I had set out to accomplish, I was no longer interested in Heidi. By then I had met and married Victoria Shaw and was perfectly happy with the way things were going. Yet looking back to those miserable months I spent almost seven years ago, I can't help but be grateful to the girl who once broke my heart, but at the same time, if indirectly, gave me the ambition I needed to succeed. END