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but appealing fighter Rocky; the im¬ pish Kupke (stocking cap) Kid. About his charm, Red says, “I didn’t start out to be anything but me. A guy doesn’t say to himself, ‘For the next half hour I’m going to be hum¬ ble,’ and then the rest of the week be a nothing. I deal in emotions—love, hate, fear, rejection. If what I do turns out for some people to be lovable, fine. But that was the bonus, not the in¬ tent.” At the end of Red’s first year of TV, he turned down motion picture offers and took the long trek out to Las Vegas. It wasn’t for the money. His TV earnings reportedly were around $125,000; the “Ho-Ho” song brought another $25,000. The son of an im¬ migrant hat blocker hadn’t had time to spend it all. Red could only be out to show his wares, prove his talent to the real live paying customers in the night club capital. Strange Things Are Happening Last November, the little boy er¬ rant’s dreams of glory came true. Red returned in triumph to the school he put on the map—Evander Childs High School in the Bronx. As guest of honor at alumni festivities, he visited old haunts and former teachers. “If Red had gotten a swelled head, he would have talked down to his teach¬ ers,” producer Leo Morgan said. “Not Red. When they told him how proud they were of him, Red attributed all his success to luck and the good graces of God.” His wife, Helayne is convinced that “Red isn’t any different now—only a little more serious. Red has never needed people. He didn’t before and doesn’t now. He’s just self-sufficient, and other people can’t accept that.” Says confidant and adviser Mario Lewis: “Red and Helayne are two of Not for him: Red finds himself unsuited to the royal robes of pomp and pretense. the most average people you’ve ever met. At home, nothing ever happens. They sit around and talk family talk.” If getting there has been hard, stay¬ ing there is the real test. Like most performers, Red doesn’t see himself in perspective, but sometimes he will take criticism from an outsider. Bibi Osterwald, a singer who has been on his show a number of times, tells about Red rushing into rehearsal with a story about a taxi driver who wanted to know if Red were Red But¬ tons. When he proudly said, “Yes,” the driver, with a cab driver’s simpli¬ city told him, “I saw your show last night. Boy, was that a louse.” Now it’s become a gag. Whenever some¬ thing goes wrong, Red says, “Boy, was that a louse.” To avoid such shows, Red woi’ks at a nervous pitch. People who know him well say after a show, it takes him a half hour to dry off. His wife says, “This is his person¬ ality. And he has to prove his success was no accident. Just as he had to learn that bigness has nothing what¬ ever to do with height.”