TV Radio Mirror (Jul - Dec 1962)

(Continued from page 74) when I used to take him with me to the New York Times employees' cafeteria — where a few of us were allowed to eat because some guys in the drama section were very lenient on hungry actors. We'd get a whole vegetable dinner for fifteen cents, a big bowl of soup for five cents. How he's changed I remember Vince during those "Streetcar" days when, like everyone else, he was dressing a la Brando. One day he would be with the T-shirt, the next day he had on a polo shirt. That was the time when you were supposed to look not too well dressed. I did it and even Elia Kazan used to dress that way. But then around 1955, when Brando began to dress, everybody started dressing. The only way Vince has changed is that now he's setting the styles, not following them. But as a human being he's the same old Vince. Outside his work, he likes to clown, he likes to sing, he likes to play the piano, he likes to tell jokes. Only the other day, we were doing a "Ben Casey" scene together. He looked at me and forgot his lines. Instead of getting irritated, he burst out laughing and roared, "How do you like that. Greek? Stefado!" He loves to use Greek words — even though stefado is stew and had nothing to do with anything at the moment. To Vince, it just felt so good yelling it, getting out the sound of it. He likes to mimic me. He mimics me to death. When he rehearses, he says his lines the way I do. Out of a clear blue sky, he'll say, "That's right. We're going to Melinas Papadakis' place." He breaks up every time. He got that from "Too Late Blues," where I played Nick Bouboulinas, the Greek who ran the pool hall where Vince beat up Bobby Darin. "Where are the girls?" Vince will say. "They're playing cards over in Papadakis' house." To me, friendship is or isn't. With me and Vince, it is. And I'm sure it always will be. I know he likes my company, and I know I like his. We don't clash. He's tall. I'm short. We clown around with each other — but we take each other seriously. He doesn't put on an act for me. I don't put one on for him. Vince has done a lot for me. For what he has done, I'm grateful. But that's not why you like a man. You're more apt to like a man in spite of the favors he does for you than because of the favors he does for you. Once, when he was dating actress Roberta Haynes, I was over at her place with Vince and a bunch of other people for a swim. I was showing off with some crazy diving and my back went out and I was paralyzed as I hit the water. I went under twice. Everyone thought I was kidding. Once more and it would have been one Greek less in Hollywood — where they need all the Greeks they can get. A sixth sense told Vince something was wrong. He dove in and fished me out. He saved my life, and I was grateful. But that has nothing to do with why I like Vince Edwards. If not for Vince, I wouldn't be in "Ben Casey." One day while we were shooting "Too Late Blues," Vince said, "You know, Nick. I'm doing a pilot for a TV series. Would you come over and see it? There's something I want to talk to you about." I saw the pilot and thought it was great, one of the best I'd ever seen. "Nick," Vince said, "how would you like to be in this series?" "How would I like to?" I said. "This is the salvation of an actor — to be in a series!" I'm grateful to Vince for that break, but one of the reasons I like him is the way he did it. People can degrade you with favors. Not Vince. He made it seem I was doing him the favor. "Nick," he said, "this isn't because you're my friend — but because I've known you as an actor for many years, and I think you'll be an asset to the series. That's why I want you in it. You'll be good in it." I think the key to Vince is his boyishness. He's a big, rugged guy. But he's gentle, very gentle. If Vince hits somebody, forget it. That's why he controls his temper. When his temper comes, it comes. It's that Latin blood. At the same time, he's just like a lamb. I've never seen Vince vicious. Not even with people who cross him. He just leaves them alone. The big thing about Vince is that he doesn't have any dishonest emotions. When he puts his arm around you, he means it. It's not a phony Hollywood gesture. It's not just for the sake of putting an arm around you. He squeezes you, if you know what I mean. He almost kills you. The tighter he squeezes, the better he likes you. It's hard on your ribs, but it gives you a nice feeling. That's why I could understand what he did for that kid in that Phoenix hospital. It wasn't Ben Casey that little girl was hipped on. It was Vince Edwards. — as told to Bill Tusher See Nick with Vince on "Ben Casey," ABC-TV, Mon., from 10 to 11 p.m. edt. a LOVE OF LIFE if (Continued from page 55) life. Certainly he and all members of her family should give her emotional support in such a time of crisis, but that is all. As to prevailing upon Barbara and Rick to seek a Mexican divorce, we wonder if perhaps this wasn't motivated by the fear that some of the scandal would rub off on the rest of the family and a desire to protect their own ■ reputations. Deeply affecting the lives of Vanessa and her family is her stepchildren's grandmother, Mrs. Vivian Carlson — the mother of Bruce's first wife. She is a meddlesome, opinionated snob who causes constant friction among the Sterlings. She exercises a good deal of influence on Barbara. It was she who encouraged her to seek a divorce and who accompanied her to Mexico. On their return, Barbara stayed with her and her husband, rather than with her T own family. v The modern grandparent plays an R important role in today's society. Mrs. Carlson, of course, is an extreme example of the worst kind of grandparent 76 who, to satisfy her own selfish needs, wreaks havoc with the rest of the family. That she is allowed to exercise such control is, to a great extent, Bruce's fault. It seems reasonable to assume that he is too weak to put a stop to her meddling. This is unfortunate for Vanessa, who now must battle the ghost of Bruce's first wife in the person of Mrs. Carlson. Obviously, she has been unable to persuade Bruce to take a firmer stand against this woman. Barbara appears to be a weak, neurotic young woman who lacks confidence in her father. In order to win over such a person, Vanessa may be forced to offer more love, warmth and understanding than she can muster. For the odds are stacked against her, and she can expect little help from her husband. Conflict piles upon conflict, reaching a climax when Barbara discovers that she is pregnant — after the divorce. She wants to get rid of the baby, but Vanessa talks her out of it. Barbara agrees because she believes this to be her obligation as a mother and, despite the fact that she is no longer married, the baby was conceived legitimately. Suddenly, Barbara grows closer to her stepmother and even moves back into her father's home. During her pregnancy, she works as a roving secretary at Winfield Academy and, although upset and depressed about her condition, she grimly determines to have the child. The intense emotional experience Barbara is going through seems to have helped her to transfer her dependency from her grandmother to her stepmother. This incident may help to draw Vanessa and Barbara closer to each other. It all depends on the firmness of their relationship during Barbara's pregnancy. Once Barbara gives birth, however, many new problems may arise. If Barbara accepts Vanessa as her mother, rather than just as her stepmother, this will make Vanessa a true grandmother to the baby. Also, it will help her to cope with Mrs. Carlson, who is sure to ingratiate herself into the situation. Barbara's child is doomed to become the pawn of all this emotional giveand-take — just as is the newborn child in any broken family. The emotional problems of the parents and grandparents are sure to be visited upon the unfortunate child — unless they come to grips with their problems and clarify their relationships in a healthy, unneurotic way. Now that Barbara has decided to have her baby, she must