had been through the medical program at the University of Rome. They told such tales of the fun and games of la dolce vita that I decided to have my turn at being “Playboy of the Western World” while continuing to pursue my medical career. I snagged a camera commercial being shot in Brussels, and was off to Europe.
On the boat to Rotterdam, I met a guy I had known at UCLA named David James who had just set amazing records in the LA track and field com- petitions at USC. He had been awarded some kind of a “trip to Europe” package. There were three other med students aboard and, when we got to Holland, we decided to buy motorcycles and hang out together in the months between June and the time for my stint at Rome’s med school. I com- pleted the commercial in Belgium, then met up with my friends in Amsterdam. We traveled all through Germany, Holland, Belgium and France. In fact, we may have been among the last group of Yanks to get through Checkpoint Charlie not more than a week before the infamous Berlin Wall began to go up. I had relatives in Leipzig, so we spent a few days observing the oppressed atmo- sphere of East Germany. After leaving Germany, we spent some time in Paris, then went on to St. Tropez, where, through friends, we met Brigitte Bardot and spent a couple of days partying with her friends. At the end of August, I said farewell to my pals and hopped on my trusty DKW, crossed the Alps like Hannibal (freezing my buns off the first week in September) and arrived in Rome in time to get set up for the fall quarter.
What prompted you to go back to show business once you arrived in Europe?
After about a year, I found myself disillusioned with the medical picture since the major focus seemed to always be directed at getting the best possible position for residency and making points for an eventual money-making practice. At the same time, I began making commercials for Ital- ian TV to make ends meet. One night, while do- ing extra work on Kirk Douglas’ TWO WEEKS IN ANOTHER TOWN [1962], I ran into James Gre- gory, an old friend from Hollywood. You may re- member him as the head of the CIA in the Matt Helm series with Dean Martin. He was in town to do a couple of films and suggested I have lunch with him at Cinecittà the following day. He intro- duced me to Anna Maria Padoan, who was the casting director for CLEOPATRA. She took me to meet Stuart Lyons, the Brit who was casting the group of centurions who would be around Caesar during the Egypt section of the film. I was cast as
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Marcellus. Later, I was given a small part in which Liz and I have a little sword battle when she learns that the Romans have burned down the Library at Alexandria. I wrest the sword from her, pick her up, and—in the original version—carry her kick- ing and squealing to deposit her at Caesar’s feet.
Elizabeth Taylor was one of the most beau- tiful and famous women in films—and interna-
tional headlines—at that time. What was your impression of her while working on CLEOPATRA? I’ve got to tell you a funny story concerning Madame Taylor. The first morning on the set, when we were getting ready to rehearse the scene, I was supposed to accost her at the bottom of the stairs, knock the sword from her hands, grab her and pick her up, then bang on the door to Caesar’s study with my free hand. When the doors open, I carry her in kicking and squealing and drop her at Caesar’s feet. Well, knowing that she suffered from a back condition, I suggested we rehearse it with me wearing the actual breastplate to be worn in the scene, to be certain it wouldn’t hurt her back. This was agreed. We did the lift, which worked fine, and when I put her down, one of the gold wings on one of the breastplate’s three eagles caught her $600.00 gold lamé slacks, ripping the backside out of them.
She screamed and cussed like a New York trucker. I was mortified but, trooper that she was, seeing the look on my poor face, she said “Aw, c’mon, honey, shit happens,” and yelled for a ward- robe lady to get her a change of clothes. We spent two days on this complicated bit of swordplay, etc. and all one sees in the final Zanuck cut, from Caesar’s point of view, is what sounds like scream- ing and commotion outside the door. Then the door opens, I walk in with the screaming, kicking Cleo in my right arm. Caesar smiles and says “Marcellus, put her down.” I do so, turn and walk out, and that was that.
All in all, she was a kick to work with. She had a great sense of humor and knew how to use the four-letter vernaculars like a seasoned pro. It was also interesting to watch the intriguing interplay between Eddie Fisher and Richard Burton. I thor- oughly liked them all. Rex Harrison was a gentle, kind, though highly volatile man to work with. If things went to his liking, he was an absolute prince, but if he did not agree with something, there could be polemics that would light up the set for hours.
As the little-seen Marcellus in CLEOPATRA.
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