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When a fellow starts out on his own, that’s a dramatic event. But in Bob Wagner’s case, life as a bachelor began — as a comedy of errors !
Bob negotiates for vegetables . . .
Arranges for his own cleaning . . .
Buys some new kitchen utensils . . .
And gets a new tire for his auto
BY MAXINE ARNOLD
• Bachelorhood is more than just a state of being. Ask Bob Wagner. It can be a whole career.
Not that he hadn’t anticipated problems. But now, a seasoned bachelor of some weeks’ standing, he’s quick to admit he hadn’t anticipated enough of them.
Today Bob’s rapidly earning his degree as Bachelor of Arts . . . with scars to show for it. Such as those earned while trying to force three saddles, a pair of skis, assorted tennis racquets, guns and fishing tackle — and his entire wardrobe into one closet.
Today he can shake his head amusedly at the trustful way in which one R. J., Jr. approached this whole new adventure in living. As for instance, the sunny afternoon when he mused thoughtfully that “having an apartment should be very interesting. It will be the first time I’ve ever had to pay the rent, sort the laundry, and just keep house in general.
“I throw things aroimd,’’ he explained, “and I don’t pick up too well. But that I can learn. This should reaUy open up a whole new thing for me!’’
The whole new thing first descended on Bob when his father, Robert J. Wagner, Sr., and his mother decided to build their new home in La Jolla, 120 miles from the Twentieth Century-Fox studios as the sea gull flies. For the first time in his life, R. J., Jr. would be going it alone.
Furthermore, the comforting speculation that if it didn’t work out, he could always go home to Father was dissolved when it was determined that Father and Mother would instead be coming home to Bob. His dad’s business interests in Los Angeles would necessitate their popping in and out of his new home.
In spite of this. Bob refused to be dismayed. Batching it would be a breeze! A guy just found himself an apartment and moved in.
“I’d been looking for an apartment for some time. Since my folks would be staying part-time with me, I had to get one big enough for all of us.”
At the studio one day, Dan Dailey came up with a possibility. “The girl who lived in the apartment below mine just moved out,” he said. “Nice place too. Why don’t you go take a look at it?”
“Great,” said Bob, taking off.
The landlady didn’t live on the property, but Bob could “go right over and see it,” she informed him over the phone.
“We’re painting the bedroom, and my husband is there now.”
To the busy man who answered the door, the boy with the eager smile and the careless haircut looked like somebody’s kid brother. As Bob says, “I’d rushed (Continued on page 90)
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