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There's a new woman in Rock Hudson's life, and it looks serious — again. Want to know all about her? Ask Rock. Ask him anything. You get the strangest answers!
BY JANE WILKIE
■ Well sir, there I was again. Confronting Rock Hudson across a white tablecloth, and filled with despair. Not that it's bad, being confronted with six feet, four inches of all that. You can't hardly get them kind no more.
He had come to the restaurant straight from his role of gardener in All That Heaven Allows. He wore a sad sport shirt, a used suede jacket and tired denim trousers. The make-up department had tried to make him look dirty, but one of the nice things about Rock is that he can't look dirty.
The reason for my doldrums was that I had to come up with considerable information about Rock's latest and greatest date, Phyllis Gates. All Hollywood knows Rock is squiring Miss Gates, and all Hollywood also knows Rock prefers not to talk about it. And so all Hollywood is trying to find out about it.
There is the rub. A nicer guy you can't find, but he holds as how his own business is his own business, and there's no business like trying to pry it out of him.
"Well," he said, "what do you want to talk about this time?" Then he gave me an evil grin and added, "As if I didn't know."
I skirted the issue temporarily. "There's always Christmas and Thanksgiving. What did you do Thanksgiving?"
"Went over to my mother's."
When Rock makes a statement during an interview, the period at the end of his sentence (Continued on -page 62)
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