They
said he could act with the back of his head. No dialogue or frills
required—his mere presence loomed larger than life in every shot. Put
him next to some of the finest actors in the business, and he would
undercut every one of them simply by being in the frame. His piercingly
distinctive blue eyes were set in a rough-hewn, unconventionally
handsome face that rarely betrayed strong emotion. His smallest physical
gesture was precisely calculated and gracefully executed. You couldn’t
best him, you couldn’t buy him, you couldn’t touch him. He was the King
of Cool. He was Steve McQueen.
He was the definition of a self-made man, working his way up from a
horrific childhood of neglect, paternal abuse and a tough life on the
streets to the gold-plated life of a Hollywood icon. He once said that
he often had nightmares of everything he had gained being suddenly taken
away from him. A man of many paradoxes, he was both humble and defiant,
stingy and generous, gentle and violent, self-assured and insecure.
Perhaps it was director Norman Jewison (Fiddler On the Roof) who summed him up best: “He was a loner, and he was troubled, and he was looking for a father.” Continue at Southern Gospel Yankee
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