Was This What Chilled Rock Hudson’s Romance?

This is the way they tell it. The shooting of Captain Lightfoot in Ireland was almost over. Most of the cast and crew were gathered in their usual location hangout, a quaint Irish restaurant, when Rock Hudson and Betty Abbott walked in. Everyone waved, of course, and said hi, but no one was surprised that the two preferred a quiet corner table by themselves to joining the crowd. They had a lot to talk about, obviously, and they had both seemed thoughtful lately. Not so much as to interfere with Rock’s ever-improving emoting or with Betty’s efficient handling of her script-girl chores—but still thoughtful, a little abstract, not quite the carefree, bubbling kids who had arrived on location fresh from a European auto trip with Barbara Rush.

Tactfully, no one paid any attention to the young pair after they were seated. If they wanted to hold hands, maybe whisper a little—well, everyone knew that they were practically engaged. Why, the American papers, arriving only a few days late, carried speculations about Rock and Betty in almost every gossip column. And if Rock had had a few dates in Venice with the charming young Countess Maria Coagne—well, there was nothing wrong with that, was there? Betty knew all about it. So, after a paternal glance or two, the crew went back to their talk. But it wasn’t long before it became apparent that there was little hand-holding and less whispering going on at the corner table. There was talk, then there was a discussion then there was something that sounded like an argument—and then there was Betty Abbot, walking across the floor and out the door, alone. Shortly thereafter she returned to the States. Rock stayed in Europe.

That’s what they say, with at least a faint ring of authority.

At once, there began the question-and-no-answer period. What happened? Why? What happens next? Betty Abbott, on her way home to Hollywood, was not available for questioning. Rock, ever the gentleman, was available but not loquacious. He spoke highly of Betty and neatly dodged all questions about their romance.

AFTER THAT, of course, came the speculations. And very interesting, and very varied they were. First, and most startling, Barbara Rush, Rock’s co-star for two pictures, was mentioned as a new romance. The cast believed that Barbara’s marriage to Jeff Hunter was shaky; they knew that she and Rock enjoyed each other’s company. Publicity men attached to the company talked the rumor down; whenever a star is at loose ends, they said, his or her latest co-star is nominated as the next big love. Nothing to it, they said. But when Barbara, home in America, announced her separation and forthcoming divorce from Jeff, talk began again. It hasn’t stopped yet.

Still working on the same lot, Rock and ex-best-girl Betty Abbott refuse to discuss the quarre which sent Betty home from Ireland alone.

But Barbara was far from the only Other Woman discussed. The name of the very cute Contessa, so lightly passed over before the flare-up, was revived, repeated and dragged into countless debates. She’s his new romance, said some. Betty’s apparent indifference to Rock’s dates with the lovely Italian concealed a rightfully jealous anger.

Pretty, cultured, intelligent, of honest-to-Pete noble birth, the resident of a most excellent little palace—what unsophisticated American boy, having grown up in poverty, having once earned his living as a truckdriver and mailcarrier, could fail to be impressed? Add to that the fact that Maria is known as the Italian equivalent of “a real good Joe,” knows many Hollywoodites and can chat with them in delightful English about movie-making and movie-makers—and what bright, young, male movie star could fail to have fun? Especially at the Venice Film Festival, with alt the attendant gaiety of international show-people, all the romance of one of the world’s most romantic cities. If it isn’t love, circumstances can make it feel like a reasonable facsimile, said the advocates of the Jealous-Of-Maria Theory No wonder Betty walked out!

Nonsense, said a cameraman who knew all three. Maria is a terrific kid, but Rock hardly knows her. A couple of dates, a few dinners at the Danelli Roof, however romantic, don’t constitute a romance. And if Rock were the impressionable type, why would he have been going with Betty all this time? Being a script-girl takes brains and efficiency—but it’s not likely to send autograph-hunters into a tizzy. If Rock wanted to be impressed, aren’t there enough glamour girls in Hollywood to do it? What he looks for in a girl, he said, is obviously the girl.

No, there’s something far more important, far deeper, involved than a few evenings with Another Woman. One of Rock’s closest friends takes the floor.

“You can believe it or not, but Rock was nowhere near as close to marriage as people thought. He admires and respects Betty very much. They might, in time, reach an understanding. But the understanding right now is that Rock is very much a bachelor and intends to stay that way, concentrating on his career, which is at its peak.

“Knowing Rock, I’d say his chances of marrying Countess Maria are as good as the possibility that he might leap to the altar with Betty. Rock is not the leaping type. I know that he likes Maria very much, but I think it’s a safe bet that he will be as single this time next year as he is now!”

Rock met Italian Countess Maria Coagne at the Venice Film Festival—which he attended without Betty.

It sounds like sense, so the discussion takes it from there. Rock’s career is undeniably growing by leaps and bounds. He’s no longer just a teen-agers’ idol—however exciting that may be. He’s an actor now, a good one, in demand for roles that take more than a beefcake build and a strong, handsome face. And to those who knew Rock during that whole, memorable European-Irish stay, there have been changes made in more than his career. Rock Hudson, the man, is growing just as fast!

Could be, an older grip offers, that it’s just these changes that have caused trouble for Rock and Betty. When they met, they were both contented people Rock was getting his big build-up, his fabulous fan-mail, his world was in great shape. Betty was pretty, popular, highly respected in her field. They liked each other, maybe loved each other, certainly they felt sure of each other and of themselves. Perhaps Betty could have married Rock then, but the studio preferred him single, and they were in no hurry. Rock’s mother gave her public and printed blessing: “I certainly hope Roy does marry Betty. She’s a wonderful girl and so right for him.” Maybe a few people disagreed: a man who worked with them on several films said, “Betty worships the ground Rock walks on. He has a growing tendency toward arrogance and she encourages it by allowing herself to become this ground he walks upon!” But remarks like that were infrequent. Most people saw no arrogance in Rock, nothing at all slavish in Betty’s devotion.

But then came Europe—and change. All of a sudden Rock Hudson, who once laughingly admitted he had never gone to college because he never made a B average in his life, was hungry for knowledge. He bought books. Big books, on serious subjects, and he read them. He bought records, but they weren’t pops; they were classical. He bought a set of oil paints. Rock has always had a talent for drawing, but now for the first time he considered it seriously enough to try oils on for size.

These are the signs of growth, and growth is not always easy. It involves an often painful re-examination of what a man is, what he wants, what he has. Sometimes it involves a re-organization of his life. Betty Abbott loved and was loved by the old Rock. Surely she could not object to the maturing process taking place, but she could fear it. Would she and this new Mr. Hudson know each other, understand each other, want each other? Fear does strange things to people.

The crew members with Captain Lightfoot in Ireland go along with this. Betty realized that Rock was slipping away from her, they say, and became a little demanding. People sympathized. She had given her time exclusively to him for a couple of years. She wanted to know where they stood. Apparently, she forced the issue of their relationship. Rock didn’t have the right answers. He was in a period of transition and he didn’t know the answers. Betty walked out of the restaurant and—anyone here got another theory?

But you don’t need another theory. Bit by bit, the story falls together. Some of the bits aren’t sad at all. Like the long, exciting one of their tour of Europe. Perhaps it was that very cross-continent trip that sowed the seeds of change in Rock—but it was fun while it lasted!

In fact, the day his studio informed Rock Hudson that he was going to Ireland to star in Captain Lightfoot, the big guy broke into the widest grin in Hollywood. This was manna from heaven; he had been itching for a trip to Europe, and now he was to get one on the house. And at that time he was overjoyed to hear that Betty Abbott would be script girl. Rock being a guy who never had time for a trip, what more could he ask?

Well, there was something . . . As he sat there, the wheels began to turn in Rock’s mind. Suddenly he hopped up and got his long legs to moving in the direction of the set on which Betty Abbott was working. “Hey,” he said, drawing her aside, “I’ve got an idea. . .”

His idea was a pre-picture tour of Europe. This being a pair of nice, clean-minded kids, they never considered making the trip alone. There may be established movie stars who travel abroad with their current lights of love sans chaperon, ignoring raised eyebrows, but in his own mind Rock Hudson will never be that well established. For Betty and him the trip was only possible if they persuaded Barbara Rush to go along as chaperone, (interesting in the light of later events!) for the mundane reason that splitting expenses three ways would put them all in less of a bind and, last but definitely not least, because they had had so much fun with Barbara in the past. Barbara was delighted.

She and Betty flew to Paris together, Rock having gone some days in advance to make arrangements—and that may have been a mistake. Rock had spent his time with Ginger and Jacques Bergerac in Rome and Rock had fallen in love . . . with the Eternal City. He saw nothing else, he talked of nothing else when he met their plane. Thereafter, regardless of what it was that Barbara and Betty admired—landscape or cathedral—the Rock brushed it off scornfully. “Nothing, just nothing,” he’d say. “Wait till you see Rome!”

The girls finally became so wearied of his one-line theme song that they dreamed up a duet in answer. Not terribly original but apparently effective, it consisted of, “Oh, shut up!”

They had two glorious days of seeing Paris under the guidance of Jacques Bergerac and his bride, and on the third day they packed, arranged contact points with a studio representative, and rented a car. At three o’clock that afternoon, with Rock at the wheel of a Kaiser-Frazer, the trio started off to see Europe.

“Betty was the bookkeeper, Rock the chauffeur and I the linguist,’ Barbara wrote her family. “And I must say we got along very well. We did try to share the driving equally, but I’ll bet Rock drove as much as Betty and I together.”

They all saw Europe, but Rock also photographed practically every square inch they visited—and they covered a lot of ground, being eager and healthy enough to drive till four in the morning to reach a particular destination.

“Rock was such fun on that trip,” the girls said later. “Not only because he was always ready to take over when we were tired. He was so considerate—there must have been places he wanted to see especially, but he just went along with whatever we wanted to do. Besides, his enthusiasm is so contagious—and when he laughs! When something really tickled Rock, he laughed from so deep inside that you couldn’t help thinking, ‘How young, how wonderful!’ and feel warmed all over.”

Food . . . that’s what Rock had a bee in his bonnet. about then. In New York he had discovered a dish called canaloni for which he developed an insatiable appetite. He begged for it in every Italian village they visited, only to be met by blank stares from the cafe owners and merciless ribbings from his feminine companions. They thought he made it up.

In the end Rock was victorious, as usual. The hotel at which they registered in Piacenza was managed by a gentleman who spoke reasonably good English, having spent two years in America. When the tired girls went up to their rooms, Rock was chatting away with the man with his customary puppy-dog friendliness and the energy they found so awesome. Came dinnertime and the girls descended to the dining room—what was served with a flourish? Canaloni, of course. It turned out that Rock had spent the entire afternoon in the kitchen, collaborating with the manager and the chef to improvise the meal.

The trip would not have been complete without at least one “incident.” On the way to Nice the three Hollywood kids somehow got involved in an Italian bicycle race, which Barbara Rush describes as “an Olympic free-for-all.” By the time they got out of it, there were only a few more precious days left before they had a picture starting in Dublin, and both girls wanted to go back and soak up some more Parisian atmosphere. Rock elected to stay in Nice and soak up some sunshine. It was an amiable parting—but coming events do have a way of casting their shadows before them.

It was in Dublin, where Captain Lightfoot was filmed that people began to remark at the change in Rock. Barbara insists, “I’ve never known Rock to be more thoughtful and considerate. As an example, he saw an advertisement in an American magazine about some sweater made there in Ireland, and he must have visited every shop in Dublin to get sweaters like that for Betty and me.

“Not that we didn’t fight,” she added. “We did, like cats and dogs. In the Shelbourne Hotel, where we stayed during the picture, Rock and I shared a sitting room. Naturally, we couldn’t both have bedrooms adjoining it, so I chose a room on another floor. That’s when we fought—about who was going to have the use of the sitting room for interviews and things like that.

“But that was childish bickering, of course. On the whole, I doubt if anyone could ask for a sweeter guy to work with. I can remember a few times when we had especially hard days, when we all felt homesick and too tired to bother about anything. Those were always the times when Rock had rented a car, had arranged our dinner at some quaint, charming place he had found, and spent the evening knocking himself out so that we couldn’t feel any way but good. He can’t stand people not to be happy.”

On the other hand, an American journalist visiting the Dublin location said sourly, “Say, what’s with this guy, anyhow? He wants to meet certain people, see certain things, and you go out of your way to fix it up because he’s a fellow American. Then, at the last minute, he says, ‘I don’t feel like going. See you later. Good night,’ leaving you to explain the best way you can. As soon as he finds out you’re a newspaperman, he clams up. He’s moody and almost arrogant when he does open his mouth. What gives with this guy?”

One of Rock’s good friends, also in the picture, came to his defense. “Rock’s different. He has some kind of extra-perception that makes him sense right away how a stranger feels about him. ve never seen Rock antagonistic to the press, but if he ever is, I would think it’s because some of them are so cynical. You know, they come around for an interview and ask all the questions, but they already know the answers in advance. They’ve interviewed hundreds of movie stars, and they’ve got Rock tagged before they ever see him—a big, dumb hunk of muscle who makes the teen-age kids squeal. Sure, he clams up. Their stories are already written, why should he bother?”

This is from a guy behind the camera—one of the first to notice what every one saw later. “You know what’s happening? Rock’s growing up, and it has him confused. We began to get the idea when he made Obsession that this wasn’t going to be just one more leading man hanging around on the screen till the bobby-soxers got tired of him. We got a glimmer then that this boy could be one of the finest actors around. Well, he did some scenes in Lightfoot that will knock your eye out. He even had us applauding. And he’s beginning to feel the power within himself. On this picture he first realized that he could dominate a scene, control it and the other actors in it by what he did, and make it into anything he wanted. I think it scared him. Rock works hard, but he’s an instinctive actor first of all, and when instinctive people start thinking, they’re in trouble.

“Because Rock can’t simply shut thought off in a convenient little compartment labeled ‘Acting.’ He has started to think about the rest of his life. Before, he was a happy-go-lucky guy who liked things the way they were and didn’t want to change them until they soured. Now that he’s an actor, he feels responsible about his pictures. And he doesn’t know what he wants any more. That’s it. I’d say he’s pretty mixed up.”

When the picture was finished, Rock went back to his beloved Rome. There he went on collecting the books and records. There, he went on thinking seriously about his acting and, like the man said, the thought spilled over into every phase of his life. Betty had gone home. Was she waiting for him to follow, contrite and apologetic? Did he want to apologize—and for what? Was she hurt, angry, indifferent, maybe even relieved by their breakup? How did he want her to feel? Like the man said, he didn’t know what he wanted. What hurt most was not knowing if he wanted Betty. He couldn’t build a marriage on a love gone stale, but in his own heart he was far from sure that it was over. And both of them would have to wait and suffer until he knew. That is, if Betty would wait. Round and round it went. He just didn’t know.

Except for one thing. Rock knew that he wanted to come home—alone—via a slow freighter. He wanted time, he said, “to read, to listen to music, to paint and to think things out.” He didn’t say what the things were.

Rock’s good-and-great friend, agent Henry Willson, who was also in Britain at the time, was positive that the boy would die of boredom on such a voyage and assured one and all that he would persuade Rock to fly back to New York with him.

To which boast one of the feminine members of the company promptly inquired, “Why don’t you try leaving him alone, instead?”

At this point, that’s probably the best thing that anyone can do. Rock and Betty are not irresponsible children, but adults with an adult problem. Given time, they will work it out in an adult way. Given time, they will once again know their own hearts—no matter which way the decision goes. And they will be better, more mature people for having seen it through.

THE END

—BY KEVIN BURKE

 

It is a quote. MODERN SCREEN MAGAZINE DECEMBER 1954