Photoplay (Jan-Jun 1962)

TAB HUNTER Continued from page 46 sting and burn. Poor Fritz, the innocent cause of it all. Here he is at this very moment, lying happy and contented at my feet. Must remember not to show him off to friends. Threw a ball for him to retrieve recently. He brought back a high-heeled slipper! Design For Living . . . As a kid moving constantly from basement apartments to furnished rooms, there were no roots. A new job for Mom to support brother Walt and me, and we’d move to a new city. Always moving — from nowhere to nowhere. Like ten times a year. Some day, I promised myself, only one city and one place to call home. God is good. Today Mom works if and when she wants. Walt has a wonderful home at the beach and kids that make him ache with pride. When I get set again, I’ll repeat my favorite pattern. Six or eight good friends sitting around a low sandalwood sukiyaki table, Japanese style. Always very informal. Talk about horses, dogs, music, world events. About everything but Hollywood gossip. Who cares who’s doing what to whom and why? Like to play records and games, too. Miss my two horses like the devil. Had to board them out, up the coast at Pleasantville, California. How do you explain to a horse that you’ve got to make a buck? Some day, God willing, I’ll have my own little farm, complete with stables for hot-and-cold-running four-footed friends. Love And Loneliness . . . Guess you’d pretty much call me a Hollywood hermit. I do try to subscribe to all those things that are supposed to be “good” for an actor, but good for what? After ten years and ten thousand Hollywood parties — give or take a few thousand — I still come away feeling empty. Feeling ill-at-ease, embarrassed, depressed. Always wonder, who is everyone trying to impress? The answer is — themselves. I sure dropped a bomb recently, when Maria Cooper took me to sit-down dinner at Rosalind Russell Brisson’s. Everyone except me agreed that Natalie Wood has no competition. I held out for Tuesday Weld. Think Natalie is terrifically talented — but don’t sell Tuesday short. She’s got that indefinable, God-given something — so loaded with creative talent she’s headed right for the moon. Like I said. I'm not the Hollywood party type! For a loner like me there has to be one person in your life — the person. Without someone to love, without mating, we’re cheating ourselves out of life’s truest treasures. I’m cautious — maybe too cautious, because I'll only marry once. But I’ve observed that marriage to the wrong woman can be hell on wheels, and who needs it? I miss companionship when I drive to a mountain top . . . when I travel . . . when I gulp my way through a solitary meal. I miss companionship when I stretch out in front of a roaring fireplace . . . when I play Sinatra and Ella Fitzgerald late at night. I miss sharing me. Guys And Dolls . . . I rarely run around with Hollywood girls. No prejudice — just a lack of mutual interests. Most Hollywood girls like to talk about their last picture, or their next. I did have a ball being with exotic France Nuyen in Hong Kong. We dined and danced on a terrace until dawn came up like thunder across that magnificent bay. I’m fond of — but was sure annoyed at — that cute trick, Vicki Trickett. Actually saw her first at a horse show and suggested her for pictures to my agent and best friend, Dick Clayton. So what happened? So suddenly Vicki played hard to get! Wouldn’t make a date, avoided my phone calls, acted like she was a fugitive THE LENNONS GROW UP With one daughter married, the Lennon family is now an even dozen. Read what goes on behind the doors of the Lennon household Plus stories on Bob Cummings , Lome Greene , Fabian, and more of your favorites And A Special Bonus Record Section in March TV RADIO MIRROR now at all newsstands from the FBI. About the time I was ready to tell her off, she invited me to see her new house in the hills. Started to burn when a rugged gent named Richard Herre opened the door. Really roared when I learned he was Vicki’s “secret” husband — had been for fourteen months while he was in the Army. Why the big mystery bit? Seems some slob told Vicki that marriage would ruin her career. Too bad someone didn’t warn Elizabeth Taylor! (Joke!) Don’t see as much of Tuesday Weld since Gary Lockwood stepped into the scene. She’s still a special favorite. The girl with the wild eyes, I call her. Tuesday’s still young and headstrong, she takes a lot of understanding right now and we argue a lot. First we tell each other off, then kiss and make up. Another special favorite is Maria Cooper — sweet, gentle, genteel Maria. She’s so unspoiled, so completely untouched by the exposure of being a celebrity’s daughter. Just being a young woman like Maria would make any young woman exciting enough. Sometimes we sit in silence and take long drives after dinner. Other times we talk for endless hours, and I feel very close — perhaps because I sense a loneliness that hasn’t quite found outlet for expression. Maria has feeling for all things living, and it reflects in her lovely face. Whenever I leave her I come away feeling I’m a much better person. She has such a wonderful way with people. About Travel . . . Those far-away places haunt my dreams. And even if they are unrealistic, dreams do give us the courage to carry on. Japan . . . Hong Kong . . . Thailand ... all are tucked away in a corner of my heart. On buying trips for my Beverly Hills shop, “Tab Hunter’s Far East,” the juices of life flow freely for me. Orientals have such quiet splendor, I derive great peace of mind when I mingle with them. The Oriental mind knows who they are and where they are going — all accepted with great serenity. Orientals find great love in such simple things that life is like an expression, like a plant. One day I saw a motorcycle and bicycle collide at a busy intersection. The man jumped off his bicycle, bowed three times — then drove off. How simple. How nice. And how I wish that what I’ve learned in the Far East could serve me as well in the Far West. My one aversion to traveling is flying. Guess it stems back to the time the Everly Brothers, Sal Mineo and I were returning from appearances in Australia. First our plane lost one motor. Another time it caught on fire. A third time it refused to leave the ground. We were stranded on the Fijis and couldn’t get a boat back for fifteen days. Scared? Absolutely petrified— but prayers helped a little. The Devil And The Deep . . . Idleness, lack of interests, boredom — these are the devil’s tools. I have never liked idle people — which makes me dislike myself when I’m unemployed. Even doing lousy movies — and I’ve made my share — wasn’t a total loss. They kept my body active, my brain alive. The body and brain are geared to give. For me, not to give is to be half alive. Even a guy fishing by the ocean is productive and with pur 68