Scarred Past of a Hollywood Actor - Man's Magazine, 1963

Rebelling against grandparents who tied him up, an absentee mother, an unfaithful father and an alcoholic stepfather, aspiring actor Robert Vaughn blithely became a "top thief."

Man's: Suppose we start right at the beginning. How about some background? Vaughn: Okay. I have reason to believe that I was born in a New York City charity hospital. It was at the height of the Depression - November 22, 1932. My mother was an actress; my father, Walter Vaughn, was an actor. He later became very wealthy and successful in radio. He was on all the programs - Gangbusters, Seahawk, The F.B.I. in Peace and War. I was raised in Minneapolis by my mother's parents. They were in their late sixties when I was brought to them at the age of nine months. Man's: How come you were raised by your grandparents? Vaughn: I assume that my mother wanted to deal with her professional life without the encumbrance of a child. Years later she told me that she was on the road so much, I wouldn't have had a normal growing-up period. She also said my father was a rotten bum. Man's: How did your father feel about your being sent to live in Minneapolis? Vaughn: My father had no contact with me after I was born. He didn't want the responsibility of me either. Nobody did. Man's: What is your first memory? Vaughn: I recall going to New York one Christmas. I must have been about five. My mother and I were going to surprise my father. She came to Minneapolis to pick me up. I recall going to his apartment at 61 W. 9 Street in Greenwich Village. We were going to surprise him and show him that I had grown up into a human being. Man's: Were your parents divorced then? Vaughn: Yes. No. I don't know. It was no concern of mine. I was eating and so I was happy. Anyhow, we went there and my mother had me knock on the door and say, "Hi, Dad. It's your son, Bobby, out here." He had a girl in the room. He said, "Just a minute, just a moment!" and put her out the window onto the fire escape. After we got into the room we found her on the fire escape. My father was drunk. It was the first time he'd seen me since I was a baby. Man's: Were you really aware that he was your father? Vaughn: I don't know that I was aware of any relationship at the time. I never had a father, so I never missed him. My grandparents functioned as parents in that they kept me from doing harm to myself. Man's: How? Vaughn: They tied me up on a rope - which tied me up psychologically for the rest of my life. I was - I still am - very offended by it. It set up a pattern in my sex life and in my attitudes toward this country with regard to independence. I was extremely lacking in independence as a kid. I was on that goddamn rope a lot. Man's: Do you remember the first time they put you on it? Vaughn: No. I just remember being on it. It was like a dog leash on a clothes line. I could run the length of the rope - maybe 20 yards. I would throw rocks at the other kids who were playing baseball on my street. First base was in my yard. If I could get a good shot at one of the kids, I would do it, I suppose, to take out my hostility at not being allowed out to play. Man's: Did the kids ever invite you to play? Vaughn: They asked me but I couldn't get off the rope. Man's: Were you razzed about that? Vaughn: Yeah. All the time. Also I was the youngest and smallest child in the neighborhood. I was once involved in a sexual situation where a guy came along and said, "Take down your pants and show us yourself without any pants on." I was on the rope and he kept hitting me and beating me up. I didn't want to get hit any more so I did what he told me. It wasn't of any consequence. That's all that happened, but if I hadn't been on the rope, I could have gotten away. Let me say this: I think everything I am as an actor is vaguely related to that rope. Because I created an entire romantic fantasy world, an imaginary world of people and situations. I made up 'Elmer,' a little guy with a derby and green coat - he was my friend. Whenever I was in trouble, it was 'Elmer's fault.' He became a scapegoat - a whipping boy. Anything that went wrong in the periphery of the yard, I blamed on Elmer. Man's: Were there any little girls in the neighborhood? Vaughn: Right next door to us were the Labar girls - Eileen, Dorothy and Mae. The rope extended far enough so that I could climb up on the porch of the Labar house. Eileen was the youngest and we walked to school together. Man's: So the grandparents did let you off the rope long enough to go to school. Vaughn: Oh, of course. They were kind people. Generous. Gentle. Anyhow - this is censorable - after school, there was one girl, I forget her name. Anyway, we used to stick acorns... Man's: Okay, okay... Vaughn: Well, you asked about girls. Man's: Did the Labar girls tease you for being on the rope? Vaughn: You might say I was a well-known freak in the neighborhood. Man's: How did you do at school? Were you a good student? Vaughn: Back then, only an average student. I was expelled many times - I would say maybe half a dozen times between the ages of five and ten. I took out my hostility about being on the rope by being very belligerent in school. I would take a little knife out of my boot. (We all wore boots in those days because it was very cold, and also boots were 'in' - I think it had something to do with Errol Flynn.) There was a little slot in the boot where you could carry a knife. I would take the knife out and try to scare the younger children. I also brought dice to school, shot craps and so on. I got expelled quite a bit. These were all manifestations of the fact that I was trying to assert myself with regard to...I guess 'virility.' In early grammar school, we were supposed to sleep on our rug - you know, "Rug Time." The moment I thought everyone was asleep I'd jump on one of the girls and start kissing and hugging her. Man's: Was that instinctive or did you know what sex was all about? Vaughn: I think I always had a pretty good knowledge of what sex was about. I knew that I wanted to do something with girls, whatever it was. Actually, I've had a great tendency to block out this period until recent years. Now it's vivid in my mind, and I dream of those days very often. I wake up feeling angry - hostile. Let me tell you something about my hostile attitudes. My grandparents used to write notes to each other. They had no communication whatsoever. My grandfather would say, "What do you need from the grocery store?" There would be an interminable pause, maybe ten minutes, and then my grandmother would write down her answer. So the very first acquaintance I had with marriage was one of rancor, lack of communication, general coldness and hostility. From there I went into a different situation with my mother and stepfather. Not lack of communication but too much communication. It was violence, yelling, screaming, threatening, suicide comments, homicide comments - "I'll kill you!" "You kill me!" So all I knew in the first fifteen years of my remembered life was - Male and Female can't quite cut it. Man's: Before we get on to that, let's finish the "rope" episode. You said you were first put on it when you were five. What about school? You came home from school and went on the rope? Vaughn: It sounds comedic that way, but that's what happened. I would avoid coming home from school as long as possible, though. I didn't know any other way of life. All I knew was the rope and school, the rope and school. Man's: Couldn't you have rebelled? Refused to go back on to the rope after school? Vaughn: I finally did when I was 11. I told my grandparents I'd had it, and if they tried to put me on the rope again I'd run away, every day if necessary. I was not going to submit to any discipline. They were too old and I was too big for them to do anything about it. Man's: What did you do when you were finally free of the rope? Vaughn: I started stealing. Every day. Anything I could get my hands on. I would wear gloves and break into store windows. I used to set pins at a bowling alley and, between lines, I'd go where the coats were hanging and steal money out of the pockets. I did very well for five years. I ran with a bunch of guys in Junior High. They all stole. I stole to be accepted. The first thing I stole was a pack of Wrigley's Spearmint gum. It was very exciting. I was in the library in Minneapolis with a guy who was one of the well-known thieves in my school. He said, "Jeez, I feel like some gum," and I said, "I'll steal some for you." And I did. I hadn't stolen before but I had to pull it off like I was experienced. Man's: Many children commit petty thievery. It seems to be a part of growing up. Vaughn: Understand this. I became a top thief. I was not just a casual stealer. Every afternoon from 3:30 till the stores closed I would go downtown and steal. When I would get through stealing, I would take everything and deposit it in a sewer someplace. Man's: So you didn't steal for profit. Did you have spending money of your own? Vaughn: None. Only what I stole from my grandmother's purse. There was a mirror in the bedroom that I could see when she was at the stove in the kitchen. I would face the mirror and pretend to comb my hair with one hand and take money out of her purse with the other. Stealing really became a full-fledged operation with me because I wanted to be accepted as the top thief of our group. In one Minneapolis department store there was a big glass display case next to the men's room. One day the case was open and it had a pair of earrings in it. The tag said 350 and I thought it would be a pretty good caper taking a pair of expensive earrings. I thought they were $3.50; later I found out they were $350. We buried them in my friend's backyard. They're probably still there. We also stole a lot of sporting goods - basketballs and footballs. Man's: How do you steal a basketball? Vaughn: A bunch of us would go into the sporting goods store and start passing the ball around, having fun. I'd stand near the door and they'd pass it to me and I'd walk out. Man's: Were you ever picked up? Vaughn: Yes. When I was about 14, I stole a pair of white ear muffs in a department store. As I was going out the revolving door, a chap hit the door on the reverse side and revolved me back in and took me upstairs and said, "We caught this kid stealing these ear muffs." I put on a scene. I was already quite an actor. I became tearful, cried profusely and said that my grandparents couldn't afford to get me any ear muffs and my ears were so cold etc. They let me go. But about six months later, a little girl got caught stealing downtown. She told the police that I had taught her how to go into Walgreen's and order a big meal, and then order a Coke after the meal and get a separate check for it, and then leave by paying the dime for the Coke. They hauled me into the principal's office and accused me of being the mastermind of the ring. But I wouldn't confess. It wasn't true. I'd pulled the Walgreen's caper, but I'd never taught anyone. Man's: When did you stop stealing? Vaughn: Yesterday. No, seriously, I stopped when I started earning a lot of money in Hollywood. I always stole shoe polish. As a child I only had one pair of shoes, and it took a lot of shoe polish to make them look good. If a man has a rumpled shirt and torn trousers and his shoes are shined, he still has an aura of dignity about him. Today I have 50 pairs of shoes. Man's: Are you saying you stole because you needed things? You said before that you buried most of the things, "threw them down the sewer." Vaughn: It wasn't that I needed things. I stole for acceptance, love, and a feeling of maturity. Also to impress the girls. I was always, and still am, very very shy with girls. I am not aggressive. I will subtly show a woman that I find her attractive, but I never instigate any advances. Not unless she approaches me first. I don't want to be rejected on any level by anybody. Man's: Let's talk about girls. Was there any love in your teenage life? Vaughn: Yeah. The first love was a girl named Betty, who unqualifiedly to this day had the finest figure I've ever seen. Very tall girl, which was unusual for me because I don't necessarily incline toward tall ladies. She had a kind of vague charm, a good sense of humor, and I loved her for almost three years. A very pleasant relationship. Man's: How did you meet her? Vaughn: She was in my biology class in high school. I said to my friend, who was sitting next to me, "Boy, that girl really has a nice figure - but she's taller than I am." But a year went by and then I was taller than she was. I made an aggressive comment at a weinie roast and we went and kissed under a bridge and that was it. Man's: Betty was the first serious romance in your life? Vaughn: Well, there was another girl before her - Sue Ann - I never quite understood her. She was a baby sitter in Minneapolis and I used to go over there and I'd lie with her on the couch and kiss her and hold her but she never indicated she wanted to sleep with me, so I didn't. Shyness again. Man's: You don't seem to have been shy with Betty. Vaughn: That was an extraordinary relationship for high school. I went with Betty for a year and a half and I would say I spent a lot of time with her once a day, somewhere, somehow. But I was very involved with athletics and this was an undisciplined area for my energy. All she wanted, which was perfectly normal, was to be married. I told her, "I can't get married till I become a movie star." Man's: Did she believe you were going to be a movie star? Vaughn: No. She thought I was nuts. Everybody did. Man's: Would you have been "nuts" if you hadn't been tied up as a kid? Vaughn: I think so. My mother was nutty, my father was nutty. I'm sure that was predominant in my blood line, regardless. You know, you've got to be nutty to become an actor. Man's: You mentioned a stepfather earlier, and spending time with him and your mother. What was he like? Vaughn: I spent time with my mother and stepfather on weekends and summers in New York and Chicago. I remember my mother sent for me one Christmas - I was about 10 years old - and I went to the Cedar Hotel on State Street in Chicago. My stepfather was a young man, around 30, and if I had drawn up a diagram of the kind of man I would want for a father, I couldn't have found anyone more complete or acceptable. He was everything - handsome, virile, athletic, brilliant, articulate - and a professional actor. He was the ideal father. Except he was an alcoholic. He died at 39 of alcoholism. It was a sad thing to see. He always looked younger than his age, but in his last year he looked 60. He had cirrhosis. He had stopped eating and just drank. My mother was not a constant drinker, but she had to drink with him. Lord knows, you have to drink with someone who's drunk all the time. That's what started me. I used to function as bartender for parties my mother and stepfather gave. In Chicago - I was 11, 12 years old - they'd tell me what to make and I'd make it. I saw how happy everyone was in the other room, and thought, "Well, I'll just try some of this stuff." So I would take a little shot of bourbon. I drank a lot of liquor as a young child. I used to get pretty shnorkered (sic) many nights. They didn't know because they were drunk too. The only way they found out was when I carried in a tray of drinks one night and fell right on my face. I cut my face and my mother put me to bed. She told people I was sick. She knew I was drunk. Many mothers say, "Let the child have a drink - he'll never drink again." Not me - I loved it! I drank eight times as much then as I do now. Man's: Wasn't that an expensive habit for someone with no money? Vaughn: I stole the liquor. I'd put my fist through a liquor store window or steal it from somebody's house. You know, it's funny how the guys in our gang turned out. They have all become doctors, lawyers, Ph.D's. The top thieves and drinkers in our set went on to organise their lives in a very gentle, normal way. We used to keep liquor in our lockers at school. In junior high we used to get pretty high before going to classes. Man's: That must have made your teachers happy. Vaughn: I don't think they were aware of it. Not until the day before high school graduation. The captain of the football team and I and a few other guys went to a local bar. We were 17 years of age and got a dozen beers under our belts by 10 A.M. Then we went to school. I was supposed to be M.C. of the Senior Day program and I walked out onto the stage. The whole school was in the auditorium - my mother even came in from New York. And I got out onto the stage and proceeded to tell a lot of bad jokes. "Good morning all you lovely people - and members of the faculty..." That kind of stuff. After the show I went to English class, which was taught by a woman who was famous for not allowing anyone in her class to go to the bathroom. I was filled with beer. I went up to her and whispered in her ear, "I've gotta go to the bathroom." She said no. I went up a second and a third time and finally I got up and screamed "NOSEBLEED!" and I put my hand over my nose and ran out of the room. When I got back from the bathroom the Dean of Boys was there and I was expelled. For being drunk. They weren't going to let me graduate. But the next day my mother went to the dean and reminded him that the year after she graduated from the same high school they were putting on a play called Kosher Kitty Kelly and the girl who was supposed to play Kosher Kitty got sick and she played the part and saved them a lot of money and so on. "So," she told the dean, "my son should be allowed to graduate. He's a good student and a good athlete." And they said okay, they let me graduate but my mother wasn't to tell me till a half-hour before the ceremony. It was a kind of a sad thing, because I couldn't participate in the frivolity of being a graduate. I lived right across the street from the school, and so I had to sit there and watch everybody signing the yearbook and all that jazz. Man's: But they finally gave you your diploma. Vaughn: Oh, sure. The exercises were held on the football field. During the valedictory or the bank president's speech or something, the guys next to me said, "Hey, you want a drink?" They were passing a little paper cup around. There was a lot of drinking going on in Minneapolis. Still is. Maybe because it's cold. Man's: What did you do after high school? Vaughn: Went to the University of Minnesota for a year and a half before coming to Hollywood. I started out as a journalism major. For a while I thought I wanted to be a sportwriter or announcer. But I got active in drama and found that acting was my greatest satisfaction. Not winning track meets, not sinking baskets, but performing. I never feel completely, purely happy except when I'm acting. Man's: Anything interesting happen during that year and a half? Vaughn: My father died and left me $10,000. I went through it in six months. I bought a car, and about 50 suits and had an open bar tab. Never gave a cent to anyone: just spent it on myself. Also one day at the campus radio station - UOM - I found a message in my mailbox from the head of the drama department. It said, "Jim Schroeder is no longer able to play the part of Laertes in Hamlet. Would you care to do this role?" I went to see him and he said not only could I do the role, but in the summer reprise of the show, I could play Hamlet. So I did not deal with sports writing anymore. That was the juncture - the turning point. Man's: Then you came to California? Vaughn: Yes. I enrolled at LA City College to take some college prep courses - the requirements are different here than in the Midwest. I had planned to go to UCLA, but I made friends at City College and stayed on there and got my B.A. Then I went on to LA State College for my Masters degree, and to USC for my doctorate, which I'm working on now. Man's: You'd shot the money your father left you. How did you support yourself out here? Vaughn: I worked in a grocery store for a while, and as a messenger for the Arrow Messenger Service - also as a page boy at a radio station - KHJ. But I had it good the moment I got out of college. I got $20,000 the first time I ever walked onto a sound stage, $25,000 the next time around, and I have been earning top buck ever since. Man's: When did you actually get involved with Hollywood? Vaughn: 1952. After I finished my college prep courses, I joined the Stage Society, which was an extension of the Arthur Kennedy group and the Actors Lab. I left that in 1954 because I couldn't pay my dues. Also because I didn't care to clean the john, which was a requisite for the membership. Certain jobs had to be done: building sets, cleaning johns, etc. I didn't care to do those things. I was an actor, not a john cleaner. After I got my B.A., I got the lead in a play called End As A Man. As a result of that I got two movie contracts. My first picture was Hell's Crossroads for Republic. Then came No Time To Be Young for Columbia. The billing said, in great big letters, INTRODUCING ROBERT VAUGHN in No Time To Be Young. The picture was eminently unsuccessful, except for me. I still get great fan mail from Port au Prince and Viet Nam. It's playing there. Man's: Let's see, you've also done The Young Philadelphians, The Magnificent Seven, The Big Show, and The Caretakers. Vaughn: Those are the "A" pictures. I've done about a dozen "B" pictures. R. Wright Campbell wrote one. It was called Prehistoric World. I couldn't wait to do it. It was a magnificent script written in blank verse about the end of mankind. The producer hired the worst actors in the world and changed the title to Teenage Caveman. That was me. It was one of the great bad pictures of all time. Man's: What about that Oscar Nomination for The Young Philadelphians? Vaughn: I did that picture in 1958, it was released in 1959 and the Academy Award Nomination was in 1960. I didn't enjoy that role at all. It was a personality that I don't care to play - a very weak, ineffectual guy who was an alcoholic. That's something very unattractive to me - but it generated a great deal of sympathy. I saw the picture in Pasadena, and everyone there, from Jack Warner on down, said, "Hands down, you've got to get the Oscar for this picture!" But you don't think of awards when you're acting. You're doing your job. When the reviews came out, they said, "This is the Academy Award-winning role of the year!" So suddenly I realised, here I am, I'm up for an Academy Award. I'm not only going to be winning the Academy Award for my first "A" picture, but (will be) the youngest person - male - to win an Oscar. So I went after it - with publicity and so on. But I did not win. Hugh Griffith won. It was the Ben Hur year. No sour grapes, though. The voting was legitimate. Man's: You're appearing the TV series The Lieutenant now. How did that come about? Vaughn: I was one of the biggest guest star actors on TV. This year I did Empire, Eleventh Hour, Untouchables, Dick Van Dyke. Name 'em, baby, I've done 'em. The Lieutenant came up when Norman Felton asked me to do a role in the pilot. It sold to NBC the day they got it to New York - no music, rough cut - it sold. Last week I only worked one day - came in at six in the morning, worked from ten to noon. So I got $3,000 for two hours work. Jesus! I used to get $15 a week as a messenger- Man's: Bob, what about love-life since you hit Hollywood? Your name's been linked with Natalie Wood, Connie Stevens, Joyce Jameson... Vaughn: The Connie Stevens thing was fan magazine tripe. I dated her twice - because she had a voluptuous figure and nice blonde hair. I had no relationship with the woman. Never held her hand, never kissed her, never touched her. She's a sweet girl. Really. Man's: What about Natalie Wood? Vaughn: I dated Natalie for about eight months. She was also dating Nickie Hilton and Bob Wagner during that time. I happen to be very fond of Natalie. Not in the sense that she was a great woman, but - a lot of fun. Joyce Jameson is the only woman I have been really attracted to on a continuing basis. Man's: When did you start seeing Joyce? Vaughn: I saw her first at the Cabaret Concert Theater where she was working as a comedienne. On July 7, 1957, I called her up and said, "May I come down and pick you up tonight from the theater?" She said yes, and I dated her that night and we were never apart for two years. Every moment, every day - as I am inclined to do with a woman I care for. We spent a lot of time at my mother's house- Man's: Your mother was in Hollywood? Vaughn: Yes, up till the time she died, two years ago. She had cancer. It's an awful thing to watch your only living relative die. Man's: You felt close to your mother? Vaughn: Certainly I became much closer to her than when I was a kid. I went back to Minneapolis with her in 1961. They had a big thing at the State Theater: Robert Vaughn Night. It fulfilled her. It was a projection of the career she never had. The important thing was, she had no idea she was dying. I used to carry her in my arms every day to the hospital - she was getting X-ray treatments - she knew she had cancer but she didn't know how serious it was or how long she had. She didn't want to know. One day as I was picking her up to carry her down the stairs she said, "Can you smell death?" I said, "I can smell death if it's there, but I DON'T smell it." She said, "I'm dying." I said, "Don't be ridiculous. Remember how you were in the hospital before, when you had the operation?" I said, "You'll be in the hospital again, you'll be out again. Look at Zasu Pitts. Look at William Powell." They had been operated on for cancer, too. That renewed her courage. About four hours before she died, she said, "I'm going to die." I said, "Can you feel my hand?" She was under oxygen at the time. She said, "Yes." I said, "If I told you you're not going to die, you're not going to die." And she said all right and relaxed. They gave her another shot and she was sedated. She died under sedation. I don't think that I will ever experience anything comparable to the feeling of ineffectualness that I felt then. I couldn't do anything except talk, talk, talk, talk. And the poor soul was dying. Let's talk about something more attractive- Man's: Okay, let's go back to Joyce. Vaughn: Joyce Jameson, voluptuous girl blonde? She's the love of my life. About six months after we started going together on a full-time basis, she told me that she didn't want to see me anymore because I was trouble in her life. That was five and half years ago. We've been seeing each other for seven years. We break up more than once a month, even though we've never had any problems with regard to hostility, yelling, screaming, unkindness, lack of confidence, etc. Man's: Then why did you break up? What did she mean, you were "trouble" in her life? Vaughn: Because I wasn't going to marry her. She should get married - to somebody. Me, maybe, but- Man's: But what? Vaughn: I want to be an important actor first - and then I will be ready to deal with a woman. That's my particular requisite for marriage. Man's: Bob, have you ever thought about psychoanalysis? Vaughn: Who needs analysis? I know exactly what influenced my life. I don't have to pay anybody to tell me. Thanks to Ellen D and Cindy W for the article!

"If a man has a rumpled shirt and torn trousers and his shoes are shined, he still has an aura of dignity about him." "I don't want to be rejected on any level by anybody."