|
The face may be more leathery and the hair a
rich silver instead of a ravishing raven, but Cary Grant is still as
handsome as he was on the screen in romantic romps with Irene Dunne,
Katharine Hepburn, Grace Kelly, Audrey Hepburn and Deborah Kerr.
And though he's received countless offers to
return to movies, Grant the near-octogenarian is content to serve on
corporate boards and enjoy the tranquility of his home on one of
those secluded streets that curve among the wooded hills of some of
the most valuable real estate in the world.
The house is not yet finished, he says, but it
seems grand enough to entertain a rajah. The view, fog-shrouded by
the usual early-summer overcast, encompasses a good portion of the
county.
"I bought this house years ago from my
lawyer's estate," says Grant, "and I kept it even though I
didn't live here. Whenever a marriage broke up and my wife kicked me
out, I had a place I could go. Howard Hughes used to stay here all
the time and people thought he was at the Beverly Hills Hotel. He
had a bungalow there, but he liked this place because of its
seclusion and the view.
"He liked it so much that I couldn't get
him to leave. When I told him I wanted the house back, he bought
Charles Boyer's house on the hill behind and said, You can live
there.' "
Breakfast is served - scrambled eggs and bacon -
and the fifth Mrs. Cary Grant enters. She is the former Barbara
Harris, a willowy brunette in her early 30s, with a gentle
British-accented voice. She lived the first 12 years of her life in
Tanganyika, was educated in England and met her husband when he
visited a London hotel where she handled public relations.
"We talked, and that was it," Grant
says, adding jauntily, "We're the same age, really. After all,
women mature much earlier than men, and I, of all people, took a
long time to mature. What is maturity, anyway? Contentment,
serenity, feeling comfortable with yourself?"
"Peace of mind?" suggests Mrs. Grant.
"That's it - peace of mind!" he
agrees. "Thanks to Barbara, I've finally found it. Well, I
should be mature by now. I'll be 80 next January."
The Grants recently returned from a 10-week
cruise that took them almost around the world.
The cruise wasn't a total escape. Grant received
radiograms and telephone calls concerning his duties as board
director for MGM-UA Entertainment, MGM Grand Hotels, Faberge,
Hollywood Park racetrack, Norton Simon Foundation and the Kennedy
Center for the Performing Arts.
Despite repeated offers to return to the screen,
Grant is content to restrict his work to serving on boards of
directors. The last of his 72 films was "Walk Don't Run"
in 1966. Why did he quit?
"Because my daughter, Jennifer, whom I call
my best production, was born and I wanted to be in one place while
she was growing up," he said. "Working in films can take
you all over the world, and even if you work here, it can be
all-consuming.
"Also, I was tired. The type of role I was
accustomed to play was no longer being written. I don't mean that
there is no comedy today. There are some good comedy actors,
especially Richard Pryor, whom I much admire. But that kind of
comedy is different from what I did."
Daughter Jennifer, 17, whose mother is actress
Dyan Cannon, enters Stanford University in the fall. Miss Cannon was
wife number four. She followed Virginia Cherrill, Barbara Hutton and
Betsy Drake.
But Grant has no intentions of sharing the
intimate details of his personal life with the rest of the world; he
will not write his memoirs.
"I hate those kiss-and-tell books," he
says vehemently. "I find it sordid and in bad taste."
The approach of his 80th year gives Grant little
concern.
"Most of my family lived a long time,"
he says. "My mother died when she was 95, just fell asleep one
day. To the end she claimed she was 93.
|
