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Beatty was drawn into politics by Viet Nam and Bobby Kennedy in 1968. He took a year and a half off to work for the '72 Democratic ticket. George McGovern was impressed by his newfound fund raiser's seriousness: "Warren not only cares about issues, but his judgment is very perceptive." Mostly to be available for McGovern, Beatty rejected a number of major films: The Godfather, The Way We Were, The Great Gatsby and The Sting. Once the campaign was over, Beatty got to work producing and starring in Shampoo, a trenchant social comedy about a randy Beverly Hills hairdresser. Its sexual frankness was almost as hotly debated as the violence in Bonnie and Clyde, but it was enormously successful.
These days Beatty continues to pursue his three obsessions —movies, politics and women—in about equal measure. His base for the past dozen years has been his apartment high in the Beverly Wilshire Hotel. The suite, aptly named "El Escondido" (The Hideaway), is a mess. Half-eaten room-service sandwiches, old magazines, scripts, books and political journals lie in heaps throughout the living room: the place looks more like the office of the editor of a liberal weekly than the salon of a movie star. Beatty, who likes to wear old jeans and open shirts, slips in and out of the Wilshire through the garage.
Two and a half years ago, Beatty began building a mansion near his pal Jack Nicholson's spread on Mulholland Drive; there isn't a soul in Hollywood who believes that Beatty will ever move into it. "There's no anchor in Warren's life," observes one friend. "Warren is always on the go," says Arthur Penn. "He travels light and takes one small suitcase from coast to coast. I guess you'd call him a very rich migrant worker." Last week Beatty arrived in New York to organize the advance screenings of Heaven Can Wait and harass the Paramount sales force with endless queries. It took the elegant Carlyle Hotel two days to determine whether or not he had actually checked into his suite. At one point a maid burst into his room, found Beatty on the telephone and complained: "Nobody has slept in the bed again. I want to know—are you going to stay here tonight?" Finally Beatty sheepishly threw up his hands and announced, "Well, it looks like this hotel has blown my cover."