Paul Newman

His major was directing; mine was playwriting. Elena Oumano, in her biography "Paul Newman," quotes him as saying that he "wanted a master's degree because my dream was to return to Kenyon [College in Ohio] and teach."

At Yale, that first year, we appeared together in two plays. In one long-since-forgotten opus, we were members of a chain gang, forced to stand stare-ahead-still and endure verbal abuse. As the lights burned into our shirtless chests, we sweated. I remember wondering if we looked like a before-and-after ad for a local gym.

Our other co-stardom was in "Tonight We Improvise." Luigi Pirandello's innovative play required us to mingle with the audience during intermission, croak "The Anvil Chorus"

and then be shocked at the supposedly actual death of the leading g actress. We were not required to remove our shirts.

We also worked on Adlai Stevenson's presidential campaign, an idealistic but, as it turned out, naive and fruitless attempt to beat Eisenhower.

For some reason, at school Paul was usually cast as cool leading men while I wound up playing wide-eyed rabbinical students. In one ambitious new play, he was Ludwig Beethoven's nephew Karl, a role in line with Oumano's description of the "personality split" between his "deep, sensitive" and "daredevil" sides.

Theatrical agent Audrey Wood and her husband William Liebling were in the audience. They ignored "Beethoven" the play, but latched onto Newman the nephew, urging him to leave school for New York. That was 1952. "Picnic" opened in 1953.

Fast-forward to a private Westport party, years later. We meet again.

Between talk about the quality of the hors d'oeuvres and the possibilities for a nuclear freeze, I threw coyness into the fireplace. After all, hadn't we been classmates? Sweated together? Stuffed envelopes for the same candidate? Sang "The Anvil Chorus"? Battled a course in the history of the theater while some student wag sang "There's No Business Like Show Business" in the corridor?

"You may not remember me," I said with idiotic candor. Then I rattled off our past relationships.

"And what are you doing now?" he asked. "Teaching," I answered. "Oh," he said, leaning his cowboy-booted frame against the back of the couch. Pregnant pause. "Then you're doing something you enjoy."

The rest of the short conversation gets lost in the furious montage that blurs through my mind: superstar, racing car champion, U.N. delegate, entrepreneur, philanthropist, Coors drinker, sex symbol.

"Something you enjoy?" What did he miss? What did I?

***

Irene Backalenick, Co-founder of the Connecticut Critics Circle.

Since I shared the same home town with Paul Newman for many years, memories do come to mind. First, there was the Westport rule. You never made a fuss on seeing Paul Newman if you encountered him at the local supermarket or school event or window-shopping on Main Street. You didn’t rush up, drooling and sighing and spouting exuberant words of adoration. You played it super-cool--SUPER COOL—merely nodding as you

passed this was just another guy on Main Street, another Westporter, leading a “normal” Westport life.

But there was the one time, when I, newly hired on the local paper, was assigned to cover headquarters for John Anderson, an aspiring Presidential candidate. I came with my

little notebook, prepared to interview whoever was covering headquarters that morning. When the door opened and blue eyes peered into mine, I was totally flustered. It was

Newman in a close-up head-on direct encounter. Wow! What happened to my SUPER COOL? I completely forgot my prepared script, floundering through my questions. But Newman--pleasant, composed--made it an easy exchange for the neophyte journalist.

Now, with distance and time to assess this amazing man, actor, philanthropist, who walked on this planet briefly, I’ve come to appreciate, as we all have, more than those blue eyes. How can we be SUPER COOL now, as we contemplate the world’s loss?

***

Roz Friedman: Finding the right cap on a lucky day:

Over 30 years ago, our son, Paul, then 18, spent a summer working at the Westport Country Playhouse doing a variety of things. He even spent a day dressed as a rooster handing out flyers on the Main Street of Westport. One night, he was supposed to serve drinks to the guests in the Green Room, and his worn-out jeans ripped, forcing him to come home early. He was very upset. I missed meeting Paul Newman, he said. He had a special feeling for Newman, because he was both a great actor and a fellow liberal. 

The next day was 7/7/77, a date that many felt would be special; for us it was a lucky day. We journeyed from Trumbull to Mitchell's (the original) to buy new pants. While I was waiting for our Paul to try on a few pairs in the dressing room, a man wandered in and began to look through some caps on a table. He was rather slight and wore shorts and dark sun glasses. Placing one hat and then another on his head, he asked me what I thought.  I was taking my job of giving advice, very seriously, when he suddenly took off his glasses, and I found myself peering into beautiful blue eyes.  I kept my composure even though this was the first time I had never seen Paul Newman in person.  

When my son emerged from the dressing room, I said, Paul, you missed Paul Newman last night, but now you have another chance, and I proceeded to introduce them to each other. Paul Newman seemed amused and bemused that I knew who he was, and he got a kick out of Paul's story.  (We also mentioned our Uncle Harry Friedman who ran the Cheese store in town, which he patronized.)     

As the years passed, I had the pleasure to chat with Paul Newman about theater, and found him to be a truly modest gentleman. But one could never forget, he was a real star on so many levels, who cared so deeply about this country.  We will miss him. 

***

Don Church

Westport has always been home to many famous people and there is an

unspoken rule to let them have their own space as they walk, shop and dine around town.

During my years in Westport – the 60s and again in the late 70s – Paul, Joanne and the Newman children were familiar sights out and about with the rest of us locals. And it was enough of a rush to cross their path without invading their privacy for autographs and Kodak moments. We cooled it and left them alone.

Sometimes I’d see Paul being approached by a bunch of kids who were overwrought by the sight of one of the most famous movie stars in the world – in person.

As they closed in on the object of their affection, he would flash that killer smile, beam at them with those dazzling blue eyes and cross his forearms in front of that Face as he continue toward his destination. The kids got the idea and almost always backed off, probably because they got his personal attention for the most important fifteen seconds in their young lives.

These encounters with adoring young fans reveal a private side of Paul Newman that not many people got to know – a genuinely friendly and thoughtful man who handled his popularity, talent and private life with dignity and charm – even when rushed by adoring fans.

My own personal encounter with Paul Newman happened in the best way – by chance.

There were two outstanding working farms in town where we could get freshly picked fruits and vegetables every day in season. As I walked into Rippe’s farm stand on the Post Road (now a gated community), a huge new sign above the long corn bin against the back wall warned: “DON’T SHUCK THE CORN.” And to enforce the edict, was Mr. Rippe, the hard-working farmer himself on the left with one eye on the cash register and the other with an unobstructed view of all the corn.

I stood for a time gaping up at the harsh sign, then looked left at the unsmiling farmer and then to the family on my right who were husking away, and then back at Mister Rippe. What to do? A voice on my right asked, “How many?” I glanced over and realized it was Paul Newman speaking to me! A surprised and delighted me said “four, please.” As he finished selecting perfect specimens, he said modestly, “Here.” I gratefully took the expertly chosen corn (Newman’s Own!) and said, “Thank you.”

Mr. Rippe silently and stoically took my money and went back to his watch over the corn bins. And I – a writer even then - had a story that has been verbally retold many times in the past forty or so years and now for the first time in print – and for good reason.

It underscores, from my person experience, that Paul Newman’s private life was worthy of the admiration and respect that also defines the character of his remarkable public life. I’ll always fondly remember the fifteen seconds in which he quickly and instinctively did me a

great personal favor. But, at the heart of it all, he was just doing what came naturally – being a kind and thoughtful country neighbor.

***

Garrett Stack

I have no personal memories, but admired Paul Newman for his decency as a human being. A role model for other “stars” and “non-celebs” to follow. He could have done anything, gone anywhere, but he stayed home in Connecticut, worked, grew, gave, and made us all see what a remarkable and exceptional man he was. When one says “Paul Newman” much more than piercing blue eyes and major acting and directing talent come to mind.

I have a personal vicarious example - just remembered. My good friend Michael Yeargan was new at Yale and working on sets for a play at The Rep. Paul Newman was in it. Unlike other major stars who Michael worked with, Michael said Paul was completely down to earth, bought a case of Bud for the crew and team and after a long day of rehearsals and just hung out as one of the gang till it was gone. Now that’s a nice guy!

***

Bonnie Goldberg

The world has lost a good friend with the death of Paul Newman.  We have truly lost of "our own."  I was privileged to attend a gala fundraiser at the first Hole in the Wall Gang Camp in Ashford, Connecticut recently and it is a living tribute to Paul Newman's vision and generosity.  Last summer 1055 critically ill children enjoyed a life of being "normal kids" for a week of fun at no cost to their family in Connecticut and 13,000 in total worldwide.  There are now eleven camps, from Israel to Italy to Ireland as well as across the United States.  If that were all he did, dayenu, it would have been enough.

A personal memory is attending the opening night of "Arsenic and Old Lace" at Long Wharf Theatre, a triumph for "sisters" Joanne Woodward and Joyce Ebert.  At curtain call, the basement door opened and the victims of the sisters' kindness emerged, headed by a quiet pizza delivery guy with baseball cap and jacket to the amazement of the audience.

Paul Newman was unassuming but cast a giant shadow which will be a living legacy in Connecticut and in the world.

***

Marlene Gaylinn

Paul Newman’s gentle, unassuming presence at the Westport Country Playhouse will be missed each Opening Night.

***

June September April: Reflecting on Paul Newman

One of the all too rare, yet so meaningful aspects of life is a Passion to live and to love to the fullest.  Paul Newman, from what I saw first-hand, and knew through mutual friends.... realized a life that will always stand as a beacon to millions of people of HOW to live, give and celebrate loved ones.

A particular memory at the Westport Country Playhouse last year makes me smile each time I think of it.

Joanne was on stage performing.  Paul was sitting across the aisle from me.  At the end of the program, the audience applauded enthusiastically.  Paul stuck his fingers in his mouth and let loose with an ear-piercing wolf-whistle.  When we stood-up to leave, I looked up at him (yes, he was taller than me) and teased him about how after over half a century of being together, he still found his wife a beautiful, sexy and terrific woman.  He smiled, not quite sheepishly and nodded.

How often do we see that kind of total love!!!

In an interview on my (former) radio show, Joanne spoke about the loving interaction, humor and quality time devoted by "Poppie" (not sure how they spell Poppie?) to the Newman's grandchildren.  She also shared of their "simple pleasures" when they first moved into their home in Westport, and raised chickens and cooked together.

Their love, mutual support and integrity.....especially in a world that too often markets other values, is an affirmation of what family, friendship and caring (in the greatest/most globally generous way) CAN be.

His teasing humour, philanthropic actions and decency are embedded in my being, to want to follow suit.....but happily, always in his shadow.

XXX

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