What helps is if you've told the person how they've touched you. If you have good memories of them.
For rebuttal to balance the story, I got to interview Jim Bouton. Of course in the course of it, I had to mention that I had always been a fan, and that aside from "Ball Four," I admired his feisty work when he was a local New York TV sports caster. He sparred impishly with even the nastiest of them, like the "sportswriter who hasn't had a Young idea in his life." Meaning Dick Young, who had name-called Jim and his co-author Leonard Schecter “social lepers.”
Jim was an easy-going guy to talk to, and as he'd already had plenty of abuse and controversy in his life, he told me, "Don't worry, Ron..." the tell-all on HIM wasn't upsetting him. The ex was entitled to write whatever she wanted. In the meantime, he was busy with his various enterprises, including "Big League Chew" (bubble gum that looked like chewing tobacco) and business cards designed like baseball cards. He even offered to make a free set for me..."Send me your photo." In the spirit of impartial journalism, I declined. I know. Watta dope. I do treasure my signed copy of "Ball Four." And I still remember Harry Chapin's theme song when the book was very briefly made into a sitcom.
I was glad that Bouton was invited back for "Old Timers Day" after years and years of being snubbed. As in, "We can't have him, it would disrespect Mickey Mantle!" Oddly, Joe Pepitone, who wrote a book exposing Mantle for having smoked dope while playing in a baseball game, and striking out while high as a kite, didn't affect HIS invitations. Well, I think it was after Mickey died that Bouton got his invitation, and a rousing cheer from the crowd. The "forgiving" crowd? No, the crowd that admired "Bulldog" for his two excellent years (including an All-Star game) as a winning Yankee pitcher, and for his humorous, counter-culture personality, which many had finally caught up to appreciating.
"Old Timers Day" games can be a little sad. You don't like to see a player being rolled onto the field in a wheelchair, or a robust star now doddering and thin. Jim's final appearance a few years ago was sad. He had spoken about his lapses in comprehension and the other maladies that he was suffering, but here he was, needing to have somebody on his arm in case, who knows, he lost his balance or something. He wasn't the only old timer who needed help, though, and there were also escorts for the widows of Yankee greats. It was no embarrassment. All he heard were cheers. He died yesterday, July 10th of cerebral amyloid angiopathy.
As for Rip Torn, I had known about him as a legendary wildman, and various stars that I knew had casually mentioned him in anecdotes. (Notice how I resisted name-dropping?) Many of his incidents made the papers, or were prominent in memoirs, like his notorious fight with the equally pugnacious Norman Mailer. I met Norman at his Brooklyn townhouse, but I was not expecting to ever get the opportunity to shake hands with Rip Torn. Until an actress friend flew in and we went to a bunch of Broadway shows together.
My friend (wow, I've resisted name dropping AGAIN) always had one request in the choice of shows: "I want to see good acting." A hit show loaded with special effects was of no interest to her. So we ended up seeing a Horton Foote play which starred Rip Torn. Just as we'd enjoyed Christopher Plummer playing Barrymore, we were knocked out by the brilliance of Rip Torn, live on stage. After the show, my actress friend, "Let's go backstage and say hello." I said, "You know Rip Torn?" She said, "No, but that's what you do."
Ah. Well known actress, as a courtesy and as a tribute, goes backstage to congratulate an actor she's never met. OK. Fine with me. We went backstage, and of course, Rip Torn recognized her instantly, as if they were old friends. Then she introduced ME, and he shook my hand with gusto and that big smile. She talked about how much she enjoyed the performance, while I just stood and smiled like an idiot (method acting on my part). But I finally did say something or other about a scene or a moment, just to prove I was there. It was a nice moment, to shake his hand, and to have both of us add to the many compliments he probably received backstage at most every performance.
The obituaries almost all top-lined his work on "The Larry Sanders Show," for which he was Emmy-nominated every year (and won at least once). I suppose it fulfilled an axiom of his — perform drama as comedy, and comedy as drama. He had as much intensity in that role as he'd had some fifty years ago when he was among that pride of lions, including Brando, Dean, Newman, Cassavettes and Gazzara who were doing Tennessee Williams or other classic stuff and changing the acting game forever. Few actors were as imposing in their 60's and 70's as they were when leading men in their 30's. Rip Torn was one of those rare and charismatic men.
Today everybody's got a cellphone with a camera, and everybody takes selfies. Back when I talked to Jim Bouton and Rip Torn, this obnoxious custom didn't exist and was not the "norm." So, no, I do not have my picture with them. In fact, even now that it's the "norm" I almost never do it. Hell, I didn't even ask Rip Torn to sign my Playbill. Although...if my actress friend wasn't impeccable, and had for the sake of novelty, worn a ripped, torn denim skirt...would she have asked to have it signed, like so?
Photoshop is hard to resist. That IS his signature added to a ripped torn skirt. By the way, unlike Rock Hudson or Tab Hunter, Hollywood did NOT give him that first name as a sub for Elmore. All the guys in the Torn family (from Texas) seemed to enjoy having "Rip" as a nickname. And so, "R.I.P." is, for change, appropriate.
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