(3 of 5)
The Other Side. Somewhere between Bette Davis and Lana Turner, we have moved outside to a terrace overlooking a reach of the Pacific Ocean. Offshore, four young men bestride their surfboards, eyes riveted on the horizon, looking for all the world like guards against an invading fleet of Chinese gunboats. Rex now lies supine on a chaise longue, and somewhere I have managed to ask a question: How does it feel to be on the other side of the interviewer's pencil?
"Oh, I'm used to it. I've had plenty of practice. Like 22 appearances on radio and television in one week. Sometimes it's really funny when people start interviewing. I remember one time Les Crane did an interview on the radio, and he started by saying 'Here, Rex. Here, Rex; here, boy.' And I said, 'Is that the way you introduce Rex Harrison if you're lucky enough to get him?' And there were no more digs."
"But I don't like most of the things that have been written about me. Most of the things make me sound like a young, pompous Public Enemy Number One who does nothing but groove around with the jet set. And that's not what I'm really like at all. You know, I'm beginning to see why some of the people I talk to have anxieties. Being interviewed is a very artificial thing. You never really know what the attitude of the interviewer is, why he's asking a particular question."
Waiting for Hitler. My particular question at that moment concerns the miniature gold whistle Reed wears around his neck. He keeps tugging at it. "It's from Tiffany's," he replies. "Fourteen-karat. From Tiffany's. It's just a gift from a young lady. Nobody famous."
He seems disappointed, and I can't tell if it is because of the question I asked or because nobody famous had given him the 14-karat gold whistle from Tiffany's. So I ask him about his work habits. At once he is cheered.
"I'm so undisciplined it's a miracle I ever get anything done. I'm a slow writer. I hate deadlines. All my writing is done at night, usually after midnight. I take copious notes, even though I remember everything. During an interview I'm writing all the time—just write, write, write—everything. I've only used a tape recorder once. That was on the Peter Fonda piece. I felt I just had to—Peter has his own vocabulary, his own way of saying things. Unfortunately, all of the really great people to interview are dead—Hitler, that would be a great interview. And oh, let's see. Lizzie Borden. Marie Antoinette. Beethoven. Rimbaud. Robespierre.
"It's much easier to do a piece on somebody you've never met before and you'll never see again. It's hardest when it's somebody you like. Valentines are the hardest things in the world to write."
Non-Valentines. About the non-Valentine pieces. Any repercussions?