Photoplay (Jan-Jun 1963)

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SIROIL, used at bedtime, won't stain bedding or clothing. Millions of bottles have been sold on a 2 weeks satisfaction or money back guarantee. Get it today. SIROIL AT ALL DRUG STORES for FREE booklet on psoriasis, written by a doctor, write to: Siroil Laboratories, Dept. M 1 19. Santa Monica, California. John Pearce, a tall boy from the South). The old Polish lady tells you, smiling at first, then smiling less and less, “Of course. Shoo. I remember. When he used live here all the time. Dark boy. With shiny face. Like olive. Like strong healthy olive. No. I don’t talk to him too much. He always running up the stair, or running down . . . to go some place. But I feel I know him. Because I have son like him. Who always run, too. Who can’t stay in same place. What the word for this? Rest-less?” Wanderer and friend “I see this in Greek boy. Mr. Maharis. In his eye. The way I used see it in my own son. I see it in Greek boy one night when it is hot and I go for walk. Near river. Down street. I go for walk, just for the air. And he hot. too — and he go walking, too. You know the pier? Down street? Well, there was big ship going out this night. French ship, English ship — I don’t know. But all the lights are on it. And you can see the people wave and laugh. The big ship begin to move. I just watch it. I think, ‘Well, there go a big ship someplace.’ But Mr. Maharis — he come along then, to near where I stand. He say hello to me. And then without more word, he begin to watch ship too. And while he watch I look in his eye and I see it, just like I used see it in my son. The eyes, they get nervous. The breathing, it get nervous. The body, it get stiff. And all about him is this feel of the rest-less. Very rest-less. Just like I used to see it in my son. Who go away ten years. Who go away and never write his mother. Never come back. Ten years. Long time. For a mother. Who wait. Who wait. . . John Pearce tells you a few minutes later, “George is my friend. My very good friend. And he’s the most generous friend in the world. I’m an actor. At least I’m trying to be. I haven't had many breaks yet. As George explains it — and I think he’s right — my time won’t come for a few years yet because I’m the character actortype and still too young to break into anything. So things are tough from time to time. And whenever they are, George is always there to help me. Although I shouldn’t say always. Once, when things were so bad for me, I had to leave my apartment here and room with George next door. I appreciated this. But I guess it also did a little something to my vanity. I guess it hurt me. Whatever it was, I began to act a little cocky. Worse, I began to become a little bit too dependent on George. He told me I’d better watch my step, that dependency wasn’t going to get me anywhere. I tried. But it didn’t work. So George just told me one day that I’d have to get out, leave. And I did. And it hurt me for a while. Until I realized that George was right. That he was still a very generous person. That by asking me to leave and go fend for myself, he was helping me more than if he’d said, ‘Okay, you can stay here and keep depending on me and keep sitting back and keep waiting for somebody else to do for you what you’ve really got to do for yourself. . . ” Says George, about my visit to Fortyninth Street, about the words restless, generous: “Yes. I guess they both apply to me. Restless certainly does. You know Janice Rule? Beautiful girl. Beautiful actress. I think Janice put her finger on it better than anybody once. We were working together, in New Orleans. We went to dinner one night, the waiter came over and I snapped out the order. When the food came I gulped it down — fast, fast. When the dinner was over Janice lit a cigarette, sat back and * 1 said to me, ‘You know, George, you eat ! like you’ve just stopped at a service station, 1 ordered ten gallons of gasoline, and then ' you drive off again.’ “And she’s right — I’m constantly rest | ! less. I hate wasted time. This hepatitis of mine is a great waste of time. Everything about it. At the hospital, that first time, j 1 they wanted me to stay in bed all the time. They wanted me to use a bed pan. I couldn’t. I’d get up and go. They’d ask me. ‘Well — where’s the bed pan?’ “I’d say, ‘The other nurse took it.’ “They got wise to me three weeks later. I But then it was too late. I could get up and go anytime I wanted by then. It’s like when I was a kid. I went swimming once. I started to drown. But I didn’t call out for help. I figured if I can't help myself, then there’s no sense in living. And so I helped myself. I “Sometimes, of course, I can get too rest 1 less. One reason I didn’t become a success j ful singer a few years ago, for instance. It’s ! because I tried too hard. Sure that bum teacher I had for a while ruined my voice. ; But / was trying too hard, too. I was trying to kill a mosquito with a 20,000-pound i hammer. It was unnecessary. “You keep going . . “But most of my restlessness is neces j sary. Once, I remember, I was going to Boston on my motorcycle and I hit a little hump in the road. And flipped over. Well, I got right up and on that bike again. And while I was driving away I looked back. And I thought, ‘This motorcycle is like life. If it throws you and you don’t get back on, then that’s where you stay, where you’ve fallen; you’ve found your level and you stay there. So maybe you open a restaurant across the street from where you fell. Maybe you ask for a job in that hardware store on the other side of the street. Or else you remain restless and you get back on your motorcycle and you keep your head and you stay cool— and that’s when you really get j over the hump in the road.’ “Well, that takes care of restlessness. I . . . Generous? Me? Yes, I guess so. I like to give people things. Not gifts from the I store. I can’t stomach that. But I’ll give j money. Or certificates. Anything that j doesn’t take me too much time. Also, I’ve I paid for two people to go to psychiatrists. I think this is important for some people, who need that kind of help and can’t afford it. I was sending a girl I know to a psychiatrist. Till recently. She had terrible problems. She felt that the whole world was ignoring her, that nobody knew she was alive. She was in desperate shape and used to come to me for help, advice. But with me on the road so much, I could only do so much talking to her. So I sent her to a psychiatrist. I thought things were going well for her. But obviously one night things went very bad for her. And in her desperation. that night, she killed herself. As if to let the world know that she had been alive, at least for one moment — to let the doctor who would come know, the ambulance men. the cops, to let them all know that she had been alive. “Of course, you’ve got to draw a line to