Photoplay (Jul-Dec 1963)

The door of the bus opened. A police escort whisked Pat down an alley and into a dark corridor that led backstage. In his dressing room, Pat picked up from where he’d left off on the bus. “Everybody’s a Met" “We all make goofs and blunders in our lives,” he said. “But if we play our heads and hearts out — like the Mets — we’ll still make mistakes, but eventually we’ll win. That’s why I root for them. I see myself in them — what I was. What, but for the grace of God, I might still have been. And what, for all I know, I may yet become again. “The Mets are the eternal underdogs. The underest underdogs of all. The dachshunds of baseball. “They’re like Leona Anderson, who calls herself ‘the world’s worst singer,’ like Fabian, who admits he can’t carry a tune; like those fumbling and well-intentioned goofs, Harold Lloyd and Charlie Chaplin; like that ugly, swayback nag. Silky Sullivan, who sometimes, somehow, came through to win; like Rocky Graziano, who had trouble with the law and yet fought his way back; like Jack Paar and Ed Sullivan who, because some people call them ‘no-talent’ guys, win everybody’s sympathy and support. “They’re like everybody. Like you and me. That’s why the Mets are my boys.” As I left the theater I heard a burst of applause. That was for Pat walking out on stage. It was so loud, I wondered if maybe he’d tripped coming out from the wings. That would be a good Met play. I took a cab back to Manhattan and out to the Polo Grounds. In the dugout I cornered Ed Kranepool, the Mets’ eighteen-year-old infielder-outfielder who’d been given an $85,000 bonus to sign with the team. It was easy to pick him out from the “shop-worn” veterans: he was the one with the peach-fuzz on his cheeks, the one who doesn’t shave. I showed him a picture of Pat, explained to him that the actor-singer was “adopting” him, Casey, Piersall and the other Mets. I asked for his reaction. A big grin creased his face. He said, “Please tell Daddy to send me my allowance.” As I write this I’m also watching the Mets on TV. Ed Kranepool’s no longer with them; he’s been shuffled off to Buffalo for further seasoning. The Mets have lost ten straight games and are trailing in the eleventh. But we’re not licked yet. The miracle can still happen. Maybe we’ll lose only 119 games this year. Sometimes, when I’ve had a few beers, I open to the sports page, turn it upside down and read the standings of the clubs. That way the Mets are on top. Gotta sign off now and write to Pat. There’s a rumor going around that the Mets are signing up Bo Belinsky, now that he’s struck out with Mamie Van Doren. Wonder how this fits in with Pat and Shirks adoption plans? — Jim Hoffman See Pat in “The Main Attraction,” M-G-M; 20th's “Never Put It In Writing.” His next is “Strictly Personal,” for Seven Arts. NATALIE WOOD Continued from page 43 After that wild and rootless romance what might happen to Natalie on the rebound? For Natalie who loves love is in lave again. But this time you needn’t worry. She’s in love with a man who does have a sense of responsibility, who has a wellrooted life to offer, who can be kookie, sophisticated, witty and wise, and who all his life has specialized in picking up the pieces. Arthur Loew, Jr. He rescued Janet Leigh after her young marriage broke — this was before she’d met Tony, when she was struggling to establish her career and needed moral support. It was to him Elizabeth Taylor fled the night she returned from Mike Todd’s funeral; she and the children stayed at his lovely home in the Hollywood Hills until she went east on that memorable trip during which she made the rounds with Eddie Fisher, and it was Arthur in whose care Liz left the children while she was gone. He’s a man who picks up the pieces. He’s intelligent, he was born to wealth (the grandson of film tycoons Marcus Loew and Adolph Zukor), he knows how to use that wealth. He’s a sensitive human being who has showered kindnesses on such diverse but troubled hearts as those of young Joan Collins, Pier Angeli and Eartha Kitt, all at times when a friend in need was a friend indeed. And of course he married Debbie Power, Tyrone’s widow who was left shattered by Ty’s death two months before their baby was born. Arthur was wonderful to that baby and to the other child, Gerald Zukor Loew, his son with Debbie. But that marriage didn’t work out. Their tastes weren’t easy to blend. The significant fact out of this marriage is that even after a long estrangement with Debbie. Arthur went to court and legally adopted Ty’s son. He went to court with Debbie and explained: “We have consulted with child psychiatrists and pediatricians, and they agree the boy would be happier belonging to a family.” So he adopted young Tyrone and has Continued a devoted father to both boys. At thirty-seven, this is a man of the world in every sense. For Natalie, after sharing the mix-master world of a confused boy like Warren Beatty for a year and a half, the urbane world of Arthur Loew must seem like a happy vacation. He loves the cosmopolitan aspects of living, as she does — good food, fine wines, chic night spots, great talent. He shares also her keen interest in art and in the motion picture as an art form. At least twice a week they view movies, run for them at either her house or his or over at agent Jay Kantor’s, who, with his date Kitty Bernard, often makes a foursome. It’s hardly news that Natalie is a studious actress, a growing one, a girl constantly striving for new heights. Her work witli Kazan on “Splendor in the Grass” and "West Side Story” has opened up a whole new phase of her career, a whole new phase of her intellectual approach to the making of pictures. Arthur recently signed as a producer at Universal-International where a whole new wave of activity is in progress. His first picture at U-I. now in the writing stage, is “Under Two Flags.” They have two worlds in common. But what is more important is the easy blending of personalities. Natalie and Warren had their passion for acting and their passion for each other, but in the matter of daily living they were totally disparate. Natalie is impetuous, volatile and gives herself. Warren is studied, easy-going and takes love as it’s offered— he always has — without ever giving himself away. Natalie is actually older than Warren — not in years, of course, but in poise, in her ability to handle herself well wherever she is and under any circumstances. I think she was constantly hurt because this boy, whom she adored and whose talent she reverenced, exposed her constantly to the embarrassment of his sloppiness, his rudeness and incivility — to her. to the world, to the press, to co-workers. “All right, so I’m not buddybuddy with the crews. I don’t get paid to be friends with them and they don’t get paid to be friends with me. Making pals of grips and electricians is not an actor’s job on the set. I think there’s a tendency among some stars to make a popularity contest out of it.” She didn’t argue with him. She watched him with those warm, loving black-coffee eyes of hers but she knew better, this girl who started in pictures at four (to his twenty-four), who has spent her life on movie sets and valued the warmth, the affection and friendship of people with whom she worked day after day. Boy and man: the difference Arthur’s innate kindness and consideration of people is like balm to her now, so is his sophistication, his ability to guide her. Arthur makes up their minds, he has finesse, he has taste (which extends to the sable coat he reputedly gave her last week ) . He was born with money, he doesn't have to make a fetisli of it. He was born with the financial and social know-how Nat herself struggled to achieve. But above all. he’s a man not totally concerned with self. He doesn’t have the actor’s ego — which in Warren’s case has assumed such amazing proportions. Arthur Loew is not concentrated on self. He is a man capable of sharing, he loves making people happy. Our guess: Natalie is far closer to marriage this minute with Arthur than she ever was with W arren, who never had the slightest intention of marrying her and made no bones about it. “It’s not that I think marriage hurts a career,” he explained. “That point of orientation a woman gives a man can only help him be more productive. A man needs a woman as a jumping off place . . . and I would like children . . . but it’s a need that’s not strong now. I don't feel I’m ready for marriage. I’m in my twenties. These are pretty good years. Right? How many good years have I got? The important thing for me now is to have a lot of fun,