Best of Times, Worse of Times: the veteran actor Robert Vaughn recalls his early years in Hollywood - The Sunday Times Magazine, February 1, 2004 Robert Vaughn, 71, who made his mark in The Man from UNCLE, spent years in LA barely scraping a living. Then one of Hollywood's biggest stars walked into his life. Interview: Danny Scott. Portraits: Venetia Dearden I was 19 when I moved to Hollywood. It was June 1952, and I lived just north of Hollywood Boulevard. But let me tell you, it wasn't quite as glamorous as it sounds. For the next four years, that's where I shared a one-room apartment with my mother. Not a one-bedroom apartment--this was one room. My mother had been an actress, but not a very successful one. She might be earning good money one month, then be out of work for the next three. She'd known I was interested in show business, so when her husband--my stepfather--died, she'd said: "I went to California once. It was nice. You want to go there?" They were lean years. We had no money. We were just a couple of wide-eyed country hicks from the Midwest. The apartment was so small that it didn't even have proper beds. It had what we called Murphy beds. Beds that you had to pull down from the wall and push back the next morning. Like in a trailer. To get myself through college I took all kinds of jobs. I was always on the lookout for acting work, but a lot of the time I'd be working in hotels or caddying at the golf club. One time, I caddied for Dean Martin. I couldn't believe it. Here was a genuine star. He only played 10 holes and just before every tee-shot he would pull out a flask of scotch and take a shot. And then he'd have half a glass of milk. This was at nine o'clock in the morning. The only thing I could afford to do in my spare time was walk around. I'd walk down onto Sunset Boulevard. And I'd hang out at Schwab's drugstore, where Lana Turner is supposed to have been discovered. The closest I got to the movies was joining the crowds outside the big theatres for the premieres. That was my life for four years. No money. Pulling down my Murphy bed. Living with my mother. I thought my chances of success were about zero to none. Just after I graduated from college, in January of 1956, I got a part in a play called End as a Man. I don't know what drew me to it, but I had a gut feeling about it. And sure enough, the early reviews were pretty good. Especially for me. Little did I know that, on the opening night, Burt Lancaster had been in the audience. He'd heard about this new actor and he was there to check me out. In 1956, Burt Lancaster was about as big a name as there was in Hollywood. He had a word with my agent and said he'd like to talk about a possible contract. Now, also at that opening-night party was Natalie Wood. She'd just done Rebel Without a Cause with Jimmy Dean and was on the point of pushing Liz Taylor off the covers of all the fan magazines. She was there with an actor friend of mine, Ben Cooper. We talked for a while. You know, just small talk, but I got this silly idea that we'd see each other again. God knows why. I didn't know about the Burt Lancaster thing, so, as far as I was concerned, I was just a big nobody. Why would Natalie Wood be interested in me? But a few days later, Burt Lancaster's company did sign me to a contract worth about half a million dollars in today's terms. Suddenly I was somebody. All the movie magazines were talking about me. I qualified as a hot young star. And I did see Natalie again. We dated throughout that whole summer. Not that she cared if I was a hot young star. She was 18. She just wanted to have fun. But I needed to feel like I was entitled to date Natalie Wood. Maybe it's a guy thing. I didn't want people to think I was some schmuck who'd got lucky. I wanted people to say: "Hey, that's Robert Vaughn." Who was I kidding? Most people didn't have a clue who I was. Natalie took me to my first premiere--Elia Kazan's Baby Doll--and as we got out of the limo, all the flashbulbs went off and I could hear people shouting: "Natalie! Who's the lucky guy?" She just held my arm tight and said: "This is Robert Vaughn. Remember his name, boys, 'cause he's gonna be a big star." Okay, so they didn't know my name, but what did I care? I was dating Natalie Wood. I had money - more than I'd ever dreamt of. I put my mother in a three-bedroom apartment overlooking Hollywood Boulevard and I bought a little house for myself. Natalie even let me borrow one of her Thunderbirds. And all this happened in less than two months. It happened so fast I was sure it would never last. I knew that at the end of 1956 I would be drafted, which meant two years away. During boot camp I shared a hut with a bunch of sheep-herders from Montana. Big, mean guys. One day I saw this film magazine lying around and it had a picture of Natalie and me coming back from Acapulco. I thought: "Damn, if these guys see my picture, they're going to think I'm some kind of snooty big shot and kick my ass." I tried to hide it, but one of them grabbed the magazine. "Wow, is that you, boy?" he said. "You know Natalie Wood? Didja f*** Marilyn Monroe too?" Miraculously, the laws changed while I was in the army, and I was back in Hollywood six months later. Nobody had even noticed I'd gone. Thanks to Katallen for online transcription, Cindy W for scan, and Prudentia for sending me the magazine!