TV Radio Mirror (Jan - Jun 1963)

We publish this story in the hope that it may still not be too late for James Drury 56 This is the most unpleasant story I have ever written. It is not the story I wanted to write. It is not the one I went after. This is the story of a man with something to hide. It is the story of a man who, having worked hard for what he has, seems intent on throwing it all away with both hands. It is the story of a man trying to ruin himself, trying to commit professional suicide. And the sad thing is that, as The Virginian on TV, James Drury has everything to live for. When I started this story, I didn't know about the past that haunts Drury. I had heard that he was a violent man and I had talked with people who have felt the lash of his temper. I went to our interview in the hope of finding out what kind of a man he really was. He came to the interview in the hope of not telling me. As it turned out, he told me more than he realized. As the old saying goes, actions speak louder than words. Our interview in the studio commissary went something like this: Question: Are you married? Answer: No comment. Question: Surely you must know whether or not you're married? The reason I ask is because there is considerable confusion on the question. Naturally, I'd like to be right on the facts. The official biography issued three years ago on you states quite definitely that you are married and a father. Yet you have been passing yourself off as a bachelor in your new bio. Answer: No comment. I admit to nothing. And unless I say it's so, it's not a fact. Question: Well, are you or aren't you married and the father of two children? Surely there's no reason to deny your children? Answer: I couldn't care less. As the press agent grew more and more shaken, Drury continued to give off with explosive answers. From time to time, he pounded the table. At one point, when the waitress didn't bring him a fork fast enough, he jumped up to get one himself. To give him credit, he did appear a bit embarrassed when he discovered there had been a fork on the table all the time. But he didn't apologize to the girl. Here are some of the things he lashed out at: Of his fans: "I don't give a damn about the fans. I'm not easily flustered by time limits, pressures, the public or the American press — and please quote me on that." Of TV: "I never watch TV. I consider it an idiotic waste of time." Of the other stars on "The Virginian"— Lee J. Cobb, Doug McClure, Gary Clarke : "I'm the head man here." Of reporters: "If reporters don't write as I want them to, then I'll never give them another interview. I expect to okay everything about me before it's printed." Well. I don't think Mr. Drury will approve this story. And it's not likely that he'll ever give me another interview. But then again, it's not likely that I'll want to interview him again. If this sounds angry, it is. But it is also written out of sadness. It is always sad to see talent wasted — and Drury has talent. Unfortunately, he is no exception to the rule that nobody has ever made it to the top without a lot of people behind him — and nobody has ever stayed on top for very long without the loyalty and love of the public. That loyalty and love has to be earned. Drury ought to know this. He ought also to know that when you act as if you have something to hide, this is an open invitation to all comers to go out and find what it is. Here, then, is what we found out. There is nothing really shameful . . . nothing really that awful . . . nothing to make a man run headlong down the disaster road in an effort to hide it: The actor was born April 18th, 1934, in New York City. His father, James Child Drury Sr., was and still is a professor at New York University. His mother, Beatrice Crawford Drury, has been at one time or another an editor of The Dairymen's League News, an interior decorator, a real-estate broker, a blueberry rancher, cattle and horse rancher, and a lumber and logging executive. While Professor Drury seems to be fairly settled in his New York niche, his wife is far more peripatetic. James and his mother, brother and sister were continually on the move during his early years. His own biography admits that "he is an alumnus of more schools than practically anybody." Long Island, Oregon, California. New York University — where he seems to have made a point of staying away from his father's classes. Drury's theatrical background is typical of many young players. Beginning with drama courses in school, he went on to summer stock. While on vacation in Hollywood, he was given a reading by MGM and signed without a test. In 1955, after a series of small parts in such films as "Blackboard Jungle," "Tender Trap" and "Forbidden Planet," MGM dropped his option and he signed with 20th-Fox. There he played in "Love Me Tender," "The Last Wagon" and "Bernadine." He was then signed by Disney but dropped after a few months. He was working as a garage mechanic in the San Fernando Valley when his agent called in with the news that he was to test for "The Virginian." While at Fox, Drury stated that there had been but one big romance in his life. At the time, he seems to have meant Cristall Orton, a young Greek actress whom he married on February 7th, 1957. They eloped to Mexicali, Mexico, after a three-year courtship. Currently. Drury is separated from Cristall and their two sons, James Drury III, going on five, and Timothy, who's one year old. They have been separated off and on, as a matter of fact, since, they married. These days, James is seen quite often in the company of an attractive brunette by the name of Phyliss Mitchell, and she frequently visits him on the set of "The Virginian." One rumor is that he and Phyliss are actually married — but since Drury's own family insists that there has been no divorce from Cristall, this seems to be one rumor that doesn't check out. Drury makes a point of cloaking his life today in mystery. Nobody, possibly not even his studio, has his address. He insists that he has no telephone and you must reach him through his agent. Even in his brief career at Disney, he was regarded as the loner to end them all. According to a couple of people who worked with him on "Pollyanna," he kept mainly to himself and seldom socialized with the cast or crew. In fact, he made the other troupe members nervous by "showing off his welldeveloped temper." While the film was shooting on location in Santa Rosa, his wife Cristall and their eldest boy visited Drury, but, according to one member of the crew, they were having marital troubles even then. The last item in our story on Drury is an item that appeared January 13th, 1961, on page thirteen of the Los Angeles Mirror: "Pre-Dawn Fusillade Books Cowboy, Writer," the headline read. "A cowboy actor and a writer were arrested early today," the story reported, "after several shots were fired from their West Los Angeles apartment. James Drury Jr., 27, and William A. Lewis, 28, denied firing a revolver which was found in their apartment at 1302 Amherst Ave. But five squads of police who responded to a call from an alarmed neighbor said three bullet holes in the men's front door had been made from the inside. One bullet lodged in a house across the street and a street light was shot out. The men were booked on suspicion of assault with firearms in an inhabited dwelling." My story on Drury stopped there. I would much rather have written a story of the inspirational charm of the Lennon Sisters or of the romantic glow surrounding Dick Chamberlain and Clara Ray. I went to my interview with Drury hoping sincerely that he would respond civilly to known facts. I wanted to support the show and the cast, and to soften some of the criticism that had already been leveled against Drury. Had he not shown such crude contempt for the American public, had he been less arrogant and offensive in his attitude toward his co-workers and, in particular, had he not thrown down his dictatorial challenge to the rights of the free press and those who read it, this story would never have been written. To the readers of TV Radio Mirror, I submit this report on James Drury with genuine sorrow and regret. — Eunice Field "The Virginian" (colorcast) is seen on NBC-TV, Wed., 7:30 to 9 p.m. est.