(7 of 8)
Director Billy Wilder was shrewd enough to see it. He signed Holden for the role of the mixed-up gigolo in Sunset Boulevard. The critics cheered, and chose Holden the best actor of 1950; but the public was still not wildly enthusiastic. One day in a supermarket—after 14 years as a Hollywood headliner—Bill saw a woman staring at him. "Young man," she finally said, "you really ought to be in pictures. You look so much like Alan Ladd."
That Kisser. The fight for parts went on, and in fighting for himself, Bill found himself fighting for others. He was elected a vice president of the Screen Actors' Guild, and slugged it out with the big studios in many a negotiation, with quick wit and a sharp mind that grew more analytical the more it saw of Hollywood. At the same time, Bill came to understand the problems of the big executives, and to wish a little wistfully sometimes that they were his to solve. Force of Arms, Submarine Command, Boots Malone—his face, though it was slowly maturing, was still his misfortune. "Do me a favor, Bill," a director wisecracked. "Go on over to Sunset Boulevard and let a truck run over that kisser."
All at once, in 1953, Bill broke through. In the midst of a box-office slump, three Holden pictures—Stalag 17, The Moon Is Blue, Escape from Fort Bravo—hit hard. And for Stalag, in which he played a scrounging U.S. sergeant in a German prison camp, Holden won an Oscar as the year's best actor. He deserved it. The boy next door had become the type in the back room, with rat-grey skin and rat-quick eyes and a furtive softness in the way he moved; for the first time, Bill had almost managed to lose himself in a part. After seeing the picture, one fan who came in late remarked: "That man was wonderful—and you know, he looks an awful lot like William Holden."
Culture & Contracts. After the Oscar, Bill had his pick of parts at every studio, and he picked them shrewdly. With each successive hit—Executive Suite, Sabrina, The Country Girl, The Bridges of Toko-Ri—he grew bigger at the box office. From Love Is a Many-Splendored Thing his studio is now sure to gross at least $10 million.
With success assured. Bill has not relaxed. He has known the adrenal delights of executive existence, and he has no intention of giving them up. Acting does not give him the chance to express everything that is in him. If and when his popularity subsides, many a studio will be glad to get him as an executive, and one has already offered him a production unit of his own. Meanwhile, Bill is making the most, in a practical way, of his powerful position. Last year he traveled 135,000 miles for Paramount as an "ambassador of good will," selling Hollywood—and Bill Holden—in 16 countries. This year he will hit the road again: from Paris to Moscow, Cairo to Hong Kong. On the way he picks up culture as well as contacts—he has made a handsome collection of primitive art, and has added a shelf of Asian and African music to his huge record library—but mostly he picks up facts, figures and feelings about the world he lives in. For at the back of his mind, Bill Holden holds a tantalizing thought: politics. Says a friend: "He would be a success in politics—a success at almost anything."