My Lucky Life in and Out of Show Business_ A Memoir - Dick Van Dyke [82]
And it was. Even though it took us another three years to finalize the divorce, our marriage was, at that point, officially through. Though Margie was angry—she feared I was leaving the family for another, separate life—our split was still amicable. I made sure she knew that she could have anything she wanted, everything she thought she might need for her comfort and security, and as time passed she saw that I was not abandoning anyone.
In many ways, we became better friends. No longer constrained by a marriage that was not working, we could accept that we had grown apart and instead focus on growing up. Both of us started over. There was nothing wrong with that.
In fact, it felt good. It was time.
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EM-VA-ZEMA
I once told my children that if not for them, I probably would have ended up on the streets because I did not have any strong ambition pushing me to earn a living. So I could not have been any happier when I found myself not having to worry about supporting my children or even earning a living. The slow lane fit me like one of my custom-made suits. Michelle and I, tired of shuttling between our separate residences, got a condo together in Marina del Rey, and we whiled away afternoons on a new sailboat.
We sailed every day we could. One day we were on the ocean when a storm kicked up and the water turned rough. Ordinarily I handled all the sailing chores myself while she enjoyed the sun, but this time, needing her help, I began barking orders. I sounded very much like a captain as I told her to take the line portside, wait for me to come about, and then move starboard.
Instead of jumping into action, as a good first mate would, Michelle stood still, glaring at me as if I was speaking to her in gibberish.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Never mind the bullshit nautical terms,” she said. “Just tell me right or left.”
I cracked up and continued to laugh all the way back to the dock. I loved her, and the life we were living together. This was not a new me as much as it was the lazier version of the me that I had always imagined—carefree, suntanned, waking up without a plan, enjoying life. I got offered sitcoms but none that grabbed me. I stayed involved by hosting the annual People’s Choice Awards and starring in Showtime’s remake of The Country Girl, the Clifford Odets play about an alcoholic actor and his wife.
It’s hard to imagine now, but at the end of 1981 and in early 1982, cable was new, premium channels like HBO and Showtime even newer. I wanted to be a part of the cutting-edge material they were putting on TV. When I started in TV you couldn’t even say the word pregnant.
I had high hopes for the gritty picture. It had earned Uta Hagen a Tony in 1950 and Grace Kelly an Oscar for the 1954 movie version. I would be stepping into the role Bing Crosby had played, and I thought Blythe Danner, whom I adored and had talked to over the years about working together, would play my wife. But I got to New York, where we were shooting, and learned I had a different leading lady, Faye Dunaway.
I would not have done the picture if I had known in advance. Nothing against Faye, but I wanted to work with Blythe. I understood the reasons for the change. Faye was a bigger name, and the producers assumed that would draw more viewers. As it affected me, well, Faye was a much different kind of actress than Blythe. Perhaps it was the project. She could have been concerned about reprising a role that two great actresses had already performed, which would have been understandable; I had my own issues about comparisons to Bing, something I did not ordinarily worry about.
But Faye was high strung, a handful as they say, and this cast a certain pall over the project. One day she ordered Michelle off the set, explaining that she did not want anyone in her