Читать книгу Letters to the Dead: Things I Wish I'd Said - Ann Palmer - Страница 17

What A Waste, David!

DAVID JANSSEN: Birth name: David Harold Meyer

Height: 6’

Born: March 27^th, 1931 in Nebraska

Died: February 13^th, 1980 (Reported as “heart attack”)

Dear David,

I go so far back with you that the general public doesn’t know you were a contract player at Universal Studios along with Rock Hudson, Troy Donahue, Tab Hunter, Bob Wagner, George Nader and a lot of successful actors who came out of that era. Apparently you even worked in films in your teens.

In my very early days, your best friend was dating a friend of mine. She called me one evening insisting that I join the three of you. That was how it began. It was a romance that lasted only a few weeks but a memorable one for me. I was still somewhat virtuous by today’s standards and thought sex went with marriage, at least with an engagement.

My Mother was visiting me from Texas. I took her to several film and TV studios. On a Sunday evening, I invited you to have dinner with us. At the time, you were an up and coming actor whom she recognized but not yet a real TV “star.” It was that same day that you got your first break in television. Just before you came to my apartment, you had been at Dick Powell’s home in the afternoon. He informed you that you had the lead in his new television series, the TV version of Powell’s radio series, Richard Diamond, Private Detective.

As I recall, that would have been in 1957. Our dinner was a very happy occasion for you and your first celebration of beginning your very successful television career. You had so many successes that you probably forgot that dinner, although my Mother never did.

One evening we had been out for dinner, drinks, etc. We ended up in my car because you got too drunk to drive. You were passed out in my car. I didn’t know where your car was or where to take you so finally I just drove to my apartment. I aroused you enough to get your arm draped over my shoulder and more or less had to drag you into my apartment and dumped you on the nearest twin bed in my one bedroom apartment. I went to bed in the other one. My mother and daughter weren’t there. I was alone with you. About that time, I was moving into a penthouse apartment with a model that had a daughter Debbie’s age. It had ample space for all of us to have separate rooms plus a maid’s room so that we could share child care expenses. It seemed a good idea at the time. Mother and Debbie may have been at the new apartment. I just recall bits and pieces of the incident. At the time, I did not hop into bed with anyone without some sort of committed relationship.

Early the next morning while I was asleep, you crept into my bed. The gentle half asleep lovemaking got under way before I fully regained my senses. By then, there was no point in stopping. It must have been good as I hung onto the hope of a committed relationship. Women in my era thought like that. Later, we went to breakfast. Little could I suspect that would be the last date we would ever have. What I thought was getting into a committed relationship was actually an ending for you.

A problem I always had was associating love and sex as one and the same. The “love” I thought I felt for you was only for the glamour of show business. I dated actors; sometimes those I attended class with or met through jobs. At the time, you were on your way to success and that intrigued me. The only real thing I remember about you was your heavy drinking into a drunken stupor. I had no knowledge of alcoholics at that time, later I was married to one.

After several weeks of dating you, then finally, had sex with you only for you to drop me, was quite a blow to my ego, especially since sex was not a frivolous activity for me. Inexperienced, I assumed I must have been a “bad lover” --only later to find out I was quite proficient at it and “a good student!”

You certainly forgot me in a hurry. After I moved into the penthouse, I called several times. Finally, you called and more or less said “don’t call me, I’ll call you” — I never heard from you again. Several years later, I passed a booth where you were having lunch and looked right at you but you did not speak. As often happens in Hollywood, friends you have on their way up, when they make it, they don’t know you any more. In the years in the industry, I found friendships to be very shallow and easily dismissed and dropped.

Naive as I was, it didn’t take a genius to see that my friend who introduced us did it only to have me as an excuse so that she could be in your presence so she could get to know you or visa versa. Shortly thereafter I heard that the two of you were dating. I really felt “used” by you both. It was one of those outstanding hurtful events that stayed with me for years.

After your death, I saw and talked to your mother at a luncheon. She was trying to raise the money so that you could have a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame for you. She was an attractive woman who had worked as an extra in movies for many years. It was always a rumor around Hollywood that she had an affair with Clark Gable and you were the product of that union. I don’t know that anyone ever knew for sure. She did manage to get a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame for you -- about a block from the Chinese Theater. When it was placed there, it was in front of your favorite ice cream shop in your childhood. The star dedication was on your mother’s birthday.

Like many others I knew, you attended Fairfax High School and by 18 you had signed a contract with 20^th Century Fox, back when the “contract players” was active. The studio dropped you because they thought you had an odd hairline and big prominent ears. You had better luck at Universal where you signed on as a contract player in the early 1950s; when Universal had so many outstanding “hunks” of the day under contract. You became a supporting player in 32 movie roles. You resumed your film career in 1961, a year after the Diamond series ended. Your biggest success came from your lead in the series “The Fugitive” (1963-1967) playing the haunted, hunted Dr. Richard Kimble on the run for the murder of his wife. After the series ended, you appeared in lead and supporting roles in movies; yet more successful in the 30 made-for-TV-movie roles, as well as the short lived TV series “O’Hara-U.S. Treasury” (1971-1972) and the cult favorite TV series “Harry O” (1974-1976). You continued appearing in lead roles in the 1970s as well as other TV projects.

I found it interesting that your death was reported as “a sudden heart attack at his Malibu home at the age of 48. Unfounded speculation holds that Janssen succumbed to alcoholism which plagued him most of his adult life. But a more reasonable explanation for David Janssen’s sudden demise is that this intense, dedicated, determined actor simply worked himself to death.” That quote was kindly put, but apparently no matter how much success you had, you were never able to gain control over your drinking. What a horrible way to die, a successful actor with seemingly everything to live for and in the middle of shooting a new film you drowned in your own puke, drunk on the set! That information came from the “Horse’s Mouth,” (so to speak) -- a top executive in charge of the production. Under the circumstances, I don’t believe that he lied to me. Not only the loss of you and your talents but the production had to be stopped, recast and parts had to be shot over from what was relayed to me. What a waste, David!

DAVID JANSSEN’S WIVES:

Dani Saval Crayne Greco – 1975-1980 – his death

Ellie Graham – 1958 – 1973 divorced

DAVID JANSSEN’S FILM AND TV APPERANCES:

Inchon (1982), Centennial: - Narrator - The Scream of Eagles (3 hr) (1979), The Winds of Death (1979), The Winds of Fortune (1979), The Crime (1979), The Storm (1979), The Shepherds (1978), The Longhorns (1978), The Massacre (1978), For as Long as the Water Flows (1978), The Wagon and the Elephant (1978), The Yellow Apron (1978), Only the Rocks Live Forever (3 hr) (1978), Golden Rendezvous (1978), Police Story, Pressure Point (1977), Circus Of The Stars (1977), Two Minute Warning (1976), Once Is Not Enough The Swiss Conspiracy (both 1975), Cannon (1973) several, Macho Callahan (1971), O’Hara, U.S. Treasury (1971) and Harry O (1974-1976) Harry-O (1974), O’Hara, U.S. Treasury (1971), Kraft Music Hall - Guest - The Detectives - Don Adams; Raymond Burr; David Janssen (1970), Marooned (1969), The Green Berets, The Shoes of the Fisherman (both 1968), Warning Shot (1967), Point Blank (1967), The Hollywood Palace (1965), Dick Powell Show (1963), The Fugitive (1963), My Six Loves (1963), The Eleventh Hour - Make Me a Place (1962), Route 66 (1962), Inside Track (1962), Follow The Sun (1962) several, The Middle Man (1962), Adventures in Paradise (1961), Frontier Justice (1961) several, Death Valley Days (1961), Dondi (1961), King of the Roaring Twenties (1961), Twenty Plus Two (1961), To Hell and Back, Francis Goes to West Point, King of the Roaring 20s (1960), Hell to Eternity (1960), The Millionaire (1958), Lafayette Escadrille (1958), Alcoa Theatre (1958) several, Zane Grey Theater (1957), Richard Diamond, Private Detective (1957-59), Away All Boats, Toy Tiger, The Girl He Left Behind (all 1956), The Lux Video Theatre (1955), The Private War of Major Benson, Cult of the Cobra, All That Heaven Allows (all 1955), Richard Diamond, Private Detective (1957), Francis Goes to West Point, Bonzo Goes to College (both 1952), Swamp Fire (1946), It’s A Pleasure (1945).