Screenland Plus TV-Land (Jul 1959 - May 1960)

Jim Garner's Youth continued from page 42 can't remember teachers calling me :iuse he was behind in his work." But of course," Uncle John breaks in, 5 aunt was the second grade teacher kept an eye on all our boys. Everyy in town did. 3 ; When Jim came back from the Korean or, the first thing he did was buy a if car. Then he enrolled at the Unisjsity of Oklahoma." I told him," Uncle John continues, he was going to school to learn some,ng, he'd better sell the car, but if was going to have a good time, he j*ht as well keep it. Well, he kept it." lim had such a winning personality was hard to believe ill of him in any e. One day, for example, when he was grammar school, a neighbor called bit Leone to complain. "Your Jimmy," she said, "is threateny to beat up my Jimmy on the way me from school." Aunt Leone was sorry to hear it and omised to speak to James about it. "James," she said when he came in, 'Irs. Roberts says you're threatening to at up her Jimmy on the way home Dm school. Are you?" "And then," she tells, "he looked up me with those big, brown eyes and id, 'Why, you know I wouldn't do anyjing like that.' "Of course I had to believe him. He Ms such a lovable child you couldn't jubt him." 1 "Oh, Jim never lied about anything," is uncle assured, "and as far as beating p someone goes, he could have done it. emember the fight at the pool room?" rHE fight in front of the pool room is to Norman, Okla., what the Battle of the ).K. Corral is to Tombstone, Arizona . . . classic. Jim and another high school athlete had difference over a snooker game, as his {ijincle remembers it, and fought for more han an hour in front of the pool hall. "Oh, it was a beauty!" old timers ex:laim. Jim won, but he paid a price for /ictory. His hand was so sore the next lay, his cousin, John Bumgarner, Jr., had o write his English theme for him. James was an habitue of the pool hall, because, if he had any ambition other !|ithan to be a millionaire, it was to beat his Uncle John playing snooker. He practiced hard and challenged regularly, but Uncle John always won. If Jim was undistinguished as a scholar, ihe was even less successful as a farmer. Uncle John had a farm several miles out from town and, on occasion, lived on it. Jim, naturally, was supposed to carry his share of the farm chore load. It was Spring, a rain-washed, freshsmelling morning, when Jim took a whirl at discing. Jim whistled tunelessly to the accom panying chug of the tractor as the heavy discs turned the steamy earth. Sharply the harrow ripped through the tough sod and laid bare the brown soil for planting. Straight and true Jim cut the field until he came to the end of the row. With a fine sense of accomplishment, he looked back over his shoulder at the ribbon of upturned earth behind him. With a surge of young energy, he swung the tractor around, turning sharply to begin another row. . .and, with a sickening sense of guilt, he braked to a halt. A wheel had caught slightly as he made the turn. Even before he looked back, Jim knew what had happened. All the good intentions in the world melted away before his carelessness. He'd forgotten to lift the disc before he made the turn, and the tractor wheel had swung right into the harrow, slicing the expensive tires like butter. Tractor tires cost about a hundred dollars each or more, and, worst of all, these were almost irreplaceable. It was during World War II when even tires for farm equipment were scarce. UNCLE John, to his credit, kept his temper. He loves Jim like a son, and he knew Jim's own conscience would be his worst punishment. "James," Uncle John chuckles, "just didn't take to farming. A week later, I left him planting some grass seed. I was afraid something would go wrong, and I told him to be careful with it, because it cost around thirty cents a pound. "I drove into town for a while, and, on the way home, I passed the field where Jim was supposed to be working. "As soon as I saw the cows standing in a circle, I knew what had happened. That boy had gone to the house for a minute and left the seed sack in the field, and the cows were eating it." Jim's failures on the farm were legion. The day he tried to feed the calf, the calf threw milk all over him. When it came to farming, Jim just lacked the knack. Maybe, of course, Aunt Leone and Uncle John were too tolerant. For example, one day the aunt was sick and, when the rest of the family went to town, Jim was left behind to wash breakfast dishes, tidy up, and mind the baby, Phil, who is now in high school. He took care of the baby, evidently, because Phil was still alive when the family came home, but he forgot about the dishes and tidying up, and his aunt failed to remind him. At evening, when Uncle John and the children rode up, they found everything exactly as they'd left it . . . including Jim, who was sitting on his aunt's bed playing canasta. "The next day," Aunt Leone laughs, "we played canasta a while, but up in the day I told Jim he'd better straighten Mi' +A FAMILY barbecue at brother Charles' home finds Jim dishing ont ice cream to relative. up some, and he did. He was always an awfully good boy." Always an awfully good boy . . . that's the story of Jim Garner's life in Norman. Just what he did that was "good" is indefinite except that he brought happiness to people who knew him. Asked whether or not the girls chased him, Uncle John grins. "I think maybe it was the other way around." But Aunt Leone won't stand for that. "They certainly did," she insists. "All the girls liked Jim. He'd run out of here looking so sloppy I'd call after him. 'Jim', I'd say, 'surely you're not going to see a girl looking like that.' " 'They'll have to take me the way I am,' he'd laugh, 'and they're glad to get me at that.' "And they were. He used to bring lots of girls out to the farm to ride horses, and then he'd come in hungry. " 'Could you fix us something to eat?' he'd want to know. 'I'd like some steak and potatoes.' "I remember, though, one girl who wouldn't date him. He went by a slumber party where she was a guest and asked her for a date. He came home pleased, because she'd given him one, but the next day she called and broke it. She said she couldn't go out with him because he was too tall." "A woman came by the other day," Uncle John adds, "and told me she used to go out with James. I asked her if she had to walk home, and she said, 'No.' He was always a perfect gentleman." James Garner wasn't a born farmer, obviously, and he wasn't a born scholar. Uncle John says he learned more from watching Oscar Levant on "Information Please" than any other way. In fact, he may be one of the rare breed that was born to be a motion picture and television star . . . simply to bring pleasure to other people. He's always done it. And, delightfully, by becoming a success, he's brought more pleasure than ever. Everybody in Norman is thrilled that the town was mistaken continued on page 69 61