Robert Redford - Michael Feeney Callan [45]
On September 1, while the show was previewing out of town, Lola gave birth to a son, Scott Anthony. Redford took a day out to celebrate and was, he says, “elated, spinning, really.” He always enjoyed the company of children and, despite the disappointments of his own childhood, looked forward to building a family. Lola’s brother Wayne, who was a small child when he first met Redford, recalls his natural facility with kids. “Mormon houses are kid oriented, and Bob loved that. He was playful, that’s the thing. Given the choice of hanging out with the old folk or the kids, it was no contest. I know my family was skeptical about the marriage, but when I look back, no one had any doubts about one thing: he was always going to be a good dad.”
On November 4 the play opened at the Longacre, but the reviews were uniformly appalling. As it staggered onward, playing to half-empty houses, catastrophe struck at home. The Redfords had recently moved to a marginally bigger apartment at 180 West Ninety-third Street. There, baby Scott died, the victim of crib death. Redford felt total despair. Ginny recalls the anguish, the questions, the reverberating shock that reduced everyone to monosyllabic mumbles.
The funeral service was attended only by Bob, Lola, Ginny and Hesseltine. Redford dropped out of The Highest Tree for several days. He did what he always did at times of turmoil: he started moving. For three days he and Lola drove aimlessly around Pennsylvania and Maryland. “It was an unspeakable pain for us,” says Redford. “For myself, the gothic part of my nature came down on me. I know it sounds self-absorbed, and in hindsight it was, but it felt like retribution. I had rejected common sense to pursue this reckless life. My father had told me I was irresponsible. The Van Wagenens told me I was irresponsible. This, I felt, was a disaster entirely of my creation.”
In the last week of November The Highest Tree closed after just twenty-seven performances. The cast took up a collection to help fund the Redfords in crisis, and the money was used for a trip to Los Angeles to distance themselves from the tragedy. “It’s what you do,” says Redford, “when you face the unsurvivable.” In New York little progress was being made with theater offers for Redford, so MCA focused on television. Close to 80 percent of all homes had television now, so production was copious, and there were acting opportunities aplenty that might easily lead to movie work.
Hesseltine introduced Redford to Monique James, who handled MCA’s West Coast TV operation. James liked him. “It was the era of George Peppard,” said James. “All I ever heard from producers was, ‘Get me George Peppard.’ When I met Bob, I immediately saw a similarity. A little more sandy or red haired, maybe, but that general look. I also liked his manner, which was very open and direct and unaffected. I saw he was grieving and vulnerable, but he had strength, too. I wanted to help. I told him, ‘It may work well for you here.’ ” James worked fast, securing him parts in Perry Mason, Rescue 8 and Maverick. When the new year arrived, to their own surprise, the Redfords were still in Los Angeles.
Michael Ritchie, the director who would partner Redford’s independent movie breakout in the late sixties, became aware of Redford’s screen presence in these first hesitant efforts. “But he meant nothing,” said Ritchie,