Photoplay (Jan-Jun 1960)

teenage dream was to see New York, and that became a reality the summer I graduated from high school. It was my participation in a beauty contest that finally brought me to New York. And it was all I hoped it would be. I remember, one night, going to Radio City. For a while I just stood outside, admiring the skyscrapers with their thousands of sparkling eyes, set against the background of a black sky, looking like something straight out of Cinerama. Then I noticed two ballet dancers— at least, that’s what I think they were — coming out of the stage door of the Music Hall and walking briskly down the street, their feet turned out like twenty minutes to four. A mounted policeman looked down from his horse and smiled at them and suddenly I felt an overwhelming love for everything and everybody in the city. For two months, I stayed in New York, with Helen and Melvyn Douglas, friends of the family, and then I had to go back to the Coast — back to the University of Southern California where I had enrolled. There, I began to take drama lessons after class, with Estelle Harman, although I had many different hopes and desires at that point. One minute I was going to do something in the religious field, the next in political science. I was, and still am, so interested in politics that I pay my own way to conventions and sometimes have my own seat. One year, I was one of the delegates at the California Federation of Democrats. I remember I got up and spoke. Boy, did that take courage! I was so afraid I’d make a fool of myself. Fear. I guess that’s one of my problems — with acting, with everything. I’m afraid. But I did speak. All this time, I missed New York terribly and my next vacation found me flying East again. New York had won me completely. This time, I planned to stay much longer. I got a modeling job, took an apartment with Carla Hoffman, a hopeful young actress, and enrolled in ballet and dramatic classes. Life was exciting. Sometimes Carla and I talked half the night about acting, plays, problems. And my interest grew. I’d tell her about my parents and how they wrote that they didn’t really want me to be an actress. I couldn’t blame them. I had never been consistent about anything. How could they be sure that this wasn’t just another whim? The career I was embarking on was costly, and I needed their financial help. They wanted me to finish college and do something practical. I worried about that a lot. Was I really doing the right thing? My heart told me yes, but I’d continue to toss and turn in bed, at night, wondering about so many things. How do kids finally find their role in life? So many of us are so mixed up, so insecure. I’ve always been attracted to the insecure ones. They have no one to reach out to, to hold onto. I believe I have God, which is within myself, but those who have lost their faith need someone. There is a cult today known as beatniks. I think that I know what the word means but I can’t define it. These kids are criticized and satirized but, frankly, I think that they are doing more than some people with ordinary jobs. At least they are creating. And they go in for deep discussions. They’re thinking. Many kids don’t know how to think any more. That word should be painted on every blackboard in every school — think! Although I loved visiting the United Nations, one of the most thrilling things about New York was the theater. I saw Julie Harris in “The Lark” on Broadway and then in the film “East of Eden.” I adored her. As a matter of fact, it was a scene I re-enacted from that very picture months later, that resulted in my being signed by Buddy Adler for Twentieth Century-Fox. About three weeks after I’d seen “The Lark,” I saw the play “The Diary of Anne Frank.” And I thought how I would love to play Anne on the screen. I had a sort of a premonition about that picture. 1 couldn’t get it out of my mind. I just knew, somehow, that I was going to be in it. I remember sitting in the Stage Delicatessen one rainy night, about this time of year, with a young doctor friend. I was eating a ham sandwich when suddenly I couldn’t stand it any longer — this feeling that something was about to happen. I put down my sandwich, pushed back my Coke, and announced, dramatically, “I’ve got to go back to the Coast!” My friend choked on a mouthful of coffee. “You don’t mean right now?” “Yes, tomorrow — tonight. As soon as possible!” I cried. When I’m excited my voice goes higher and I must have sounded like an LP set at the wrong speed. The doctor leaned across the table and touched my forehead with the back of his hand. “I’m not feverish, I feel fine!” I insisted. “I’ve just got to get back to Hollywood to do ‘The Dairy of Anne Frank’!” Poor man, he must have really thought I’d flipped my lid. But I did go back to the Coast and I did make “Diary.” I didn’t play Anne; Millie Perkins did that. But I did get the part of her sister. On the plane, going back, I had read that George Stevens was looking for someone and right there and then I wrote him a letter. It was the only letter, he told me later, that he got. Mine was a small role but I loved it. I was now in movies. I was on my way. t^ven today I’m scared and nervous when I make a picture and when I’m nervous it shows. I strain, become tense, I clench my hands. When I watched “The Killers” on TV — that was a show I taped — I was so tense I was hunched over. Bent double. I remember that while we were filming “Journey to the Center of the Earth,” I’d always try to take a walk before we’d shoot — to calm down. I’d try to get away from people. Some place where it was quiet, and maybe just sit. A good way to calm your nerves is to examine something closely. A flower or a book. You think, “Isn’t that interesting?” You examine the quality of it, the size of the type. Or you try to absorb yourself in an object. It takes you out of yourself. I learned this from reading about a form of Japanese religion known as Shinto. When the Japanese have guests, the head of the house will bring in something beautiful — perhaps a vase — and everyone sits and studies it and then they discuss it and, in this way, with no awkwardness or selfconsciousness, they slowly begin to learn about one another. Most American teenagers wouldn’t use a vase to help them over a first meeting — unless it were full of popcorn! But they should try to learn to concentrate on the other person to take them out of themselves. It isn’t easy but it’s worth a try. There are lots of things I wish others would try. Instead of depending so much on cocktails and tranquilizers, I wish people could have stimulating discussions — give love, and care what really happens to one another. I think it’s the people who think they know everything, who turn a deaf ear to others’ thoughts and opinions that cause all the stalemates in the world. I guess they just never grew up. Never learned to listen to their moms — to other people. Instead of pushing carrots around on their plates, they push people. Instead of having tantrums on the floor of the May Company, they have them on the floor of the U.N. And talking of listening to mothers, I thought I should mention that my parents and I are very close now. And I often wish it had been this way always. They’re so proud of me and they tell me so and it makes me feel all warm and glowing inside. Like recently, when I was in New York in December to help promote “Journey to the Center of the Earth,” which I made with James Mason and Pat Boone, my dad assured me he would take care of everything at the Hollywood end. I was in the midst • of giving up my apartment, out there, and looking for a new one. Dad called me and said, “You just do what you have to do in New York and Mom and I will take care of things out here.” It made me feel good and . . . well — loved. As I hung up the phone, I wished I could have hugged Mom and Dad. I thought, “Maybe I’m really an adult now, like my parents.” My parents are so wise and understanding — that’s what I think really being an adult means. I guess they’ve always been that way but I didn’t really know it till now. Maybe it takes one adult to know another. The End J BE SURE TO SEE DIANE BAKER IN 20TH CENTURYfox’s “journey to the center of the earth.” WHO HO YOU WANT TO IIKAH ABOUT? 1 want to read stories about (list movie, TV or recording stars): (1). (2). (3) . (4) . (1). (2). ACTOR ACTRESS 0). (2). (3) . (4) . The features I like best in this issue of PHOTOPLAY are: (3) (4) Name Age. Address. 72 Paste this ballot on a postcard and send it to Reader's Poll, Box 1374, Grand Central Station, New York 17, N.Y. 3-60