In the spring of 1966, "Three Bags Full", a comedy
starring Paul Ford, Nancy Marchand and myself closed on Broadway. There
had been a severe transit strike, and too much loss in ticket sales had
occurred due to the lack of transportation in the city. I was disoriented.
I was now out of the two year Neighborhood Playhouse program, and I had no
job. The first experience of the "next job insecurity" that affects every
actor, hit me hard. Within a month of the plays closing, I had developed
pneumonia, probably from the stress of no apparent work. I ended up in
Doctors Hospital to recover. While there, I read of a spa in Palm Springs.
It appeared to be a health retreat and a place to heal. I called a travel
agent to order tickets to Florida. The agent said, "I'm sorry, Palm
Springs is in California, not Florida" I was taken aback. California, what
a romantic and faraway place! It seemed much less accessible to me than
Florida. I took a risk and said "allright, I'll take a ticket to
California".
Within a week, I was in the Palm Springs Spa, run by Anne-Marie
Bennstrom, who today owns and runs The Ashram Health Retreat. It was a
wonderful place for me, and a revelation. There were palm trees,
penetrating heat, non-stop clear skies and sunshine and my first "organic
food". I stayed three weeks instead of one. I had not told my agents I had
even left New York City. I did love to disappear occasionally, and go
where no one could find me. I found that a peaceful, private and
liberating thing to do. I always felt more enriched in myself when I would
return. In the third week at the Spa, I finally called my agents to tell
them where I was. Stark Hesseltine, my primary agent said, "you must go to
Los Angeles on your way back to New York, meet my West Coast partner and
have some meetings with casting agents and producers".
I was very reluctant to do this, as I was absolutely clear that Theatre
was all I wanted. However, I respected Stark greatly, and I wanted to be
an agreeable client. I went to Los Angeles and met with Wally Hiller, a
delightful man and agent who immediately set up various meetings. I was
innocent and unknowing of how the film and TV industry worked. I enjoyed
going here and there for meetings, and didn't take any of it very
seriously. I was looking forward to returning to New York and preparing
for the fall auditions in the Theatre. On my third day in Los Angeles,
Wally told me I would be meeting the producers of Peyton Place. Peyton
Place at that time, in 1966, was in its second year of being a television
phenomenon. It was the first American night-time soap opera, and the
country was mesmerized by it. It was based on the book Peyton Place by
Grace Metalius. This book had been, in it's time, America's "raciest"
novel. The television show of course, could not be so sexual, but the
resonance from the books' reputation lent a tone of the "forbidden" to our
show. It was an ensemble cast of young and beautiful actors who were
supported by many fine character actors and former film stars. The
predominant young stars were Ryan O'Neal, Mia Farrow and Barbara Parkins.
The older stars included Dorothy Malone, Dan Duryea, Lee Grant and many
more.
The younger actors had all become stars and filled the movie magazines.
I had never seen the show. I had either been working nights in my play, or
had been in school. So, when I walked into this meeting I was relaxed and
fairly unknowing. Those present were Paul Monash, Ernie Chambers, Wally
and myself. I remember having a feeling that something was about to
change. There was an excitement in the air. I don't know, in looking back,
if these were premonitions, or simply an attunement to what seemed to be
an enthusiasm for me on their part. I cannot explain why they were so
receptive. It was just a meeting. They were, however, actively looking for
a young actress to replace Mia Farrow, who had left the show quite
suddenly to start a new life with Frank Sinatra. They asked if I would
come back in a few days and do a scene from The Glass Menagerie by
Tennessee Williams. It meant a delay in my return to New York, but Wally
Hiller assured me that it was important. I immediately began working with
an actor-client of Wally's to prepare the scene. We did it for the
producers, and again, this sense of excitement was present.
I was now very ready to go home, and said so, strongly, the next
morning to Wally. He said "Well, I have news for you, the producers want
to give you a screen test". This was my first exposure to the system
where, first the deal is made, then the screen test. This gives maximum
leverage to the employer. I did not want any part of it, especially when I
heard the contract was for seven years. This horrified me. It meant that
if I did the audition, and they loved it, automatically the contract would
be in effect. I was so stubborn and resistant about it, that Stark called
my mother in Detroit, to get her assistance. Mom called me. Her reasoning
was that even if I was under contract and used for the full seven years, I
would still be young, only more experienced. I would also be financially
secure enough then to choose back into a career in Theatre. She helped me
step into the adventure that was being presented to me. I agreed to the
test, and began to prepare myself.
The screen test was scheduled in the middle of a Peyton Place shooting
day on Stage 9 at Fox studios. My makeup for the test was put on by an old
"codger" of a makeup man everyone called "Shotgun" I later learned he was
very famous and worked almost solely with Frank Sinatra. The makeup area
was on the open stage, which looked like a large cavernous warehouse with
different interior "sets" of the town of Peyton Place. There were
bedrooms, living rooms, kitchens, and the interiors of Peyton Place
stores. I remember how real they all looked. During my make up, I saw
several of the young stars of the show coming to the stage. One came up
and said "hello." He was cocky, very sure of himself, and said something
encouraging to me. I recognized him as Ryan O'Neal.
I was then taken to a living room "set" and sat on a couch. The actor I
had worked with on the scene was brought in, and sat next to me. I saw a
huge machine called a 35 mm film camera, with a man riding on it, moving
towards me. Lots of men were moving big lights and placing their focus and
attention on me as if I were an object. The large camera looked ominous as
it set it's position. The lights came on, and I saw just behind the camera
eight chairs placed in a semi-circle. All the young Peyton Place stars
were gathering to sit and watch my screen test. Somehow the word about me
was out amongst the cast, and they wanted to see me work. I was not only
adjusting, on the spot, to a whole new mechanical environment of camera,
lights and crew, but now all the stars would be watching. The director of
my test introduced himself as Jeffrey Haydyn. He explained what was going
on. I must have looked like a "deer in headlights" and I felt like one.
When the moment came to begin, on "action", I had already gone deep
inside to a place where I was centered in the character's life. Everything
went so silent as the scene was shot. When it was done, Jeffrey put his
arms around me and seemed very pleased. I felt like I was in an altered
state. The next day I was told that I would begin as a regular on Peyton
Place in the character of Rachel Welles. I had a month to return to New
York, gather my things, and move to Los Angeles to begin a new career in
television.
This
photo of Ryan and myself, was taken in the first week I started filming,
late August of 1966. It was my first photo shoot. I didn't know Ryan at
all, other than as a television star and a movie magazine "man about
town". They had me photographed with each young star, as I was readied by
the Fox press department to be presented to the public as a new resident
of Peyton Place. To say that life mirrored art would be trite, but I would
have to admit that very soon, my life did take on the aura of the unreal.
I soon became one of these young stars, and my relationship with Ryan
began, which would alter my life.