YOU BROUGHT TEARS TO MY EYES
By VICTOR MATURE
24 September 1955
Can you imagine me, Victor Mature, with tears in my eyes? It happened right here in London only a few weeks ago. And it was all because of my fans. In my time writers have called me a great many things--some friendly, some not so friendly. But I can tell you, I'm deeply moved about certain things.
When I came to London to shoot scenes for my new film, "Safari," before leaving for Africa, I was interviewed by a columnist on a big British daily newspaper. We talked about money and I happened to mention that I wasn't exactly rolling. It's true. I'm not exactly in the breadline yet, but I have certain private, business and tax commitments, and I guess I need every dollar I can earn.
Well this reporter made a big thing of it and by the next post, and for weeks after, the letters started pouring in from people all over your country.
They contained money and notes of sympathy. One or two were sent as a gag and I enjoyed the joke. But the majority were genuine letters from darned nice people.
I read them all. I've been called cynical, but I can tell you I've never been more moved by anything in my whole life. The letters are all stacked high in my hotel wardrobe.
I shall send back the money, of course, but as soon as I return from location on Safari, I plan to do something in gratitude for these wonderful people.
Friendship and understanding, as distinct from flattery, are things that all stars--I repeat, ALL stars--are always seeking. And it's the greatest gift on earth when they find it.
Money? I'm no Texas oil tycoon, but I plan to work hard for the next seven years and have enough to semi-retire while I'm still young enough to enjoy it.
Life's good to me just now. I have eight pictures lined up and I guess I have enough to keep me busy in Europe for about four years.
I love it over here in London. I wish you could see the view from my riverside room at my London hotel.
At night the lights shine across the river from the Royal Festival Hall and I can watch the boats playing up and down. I say to my friends: "This is one of the finest views I've seen."
The place for me, back home, is Las Vegas. It's the craziest town in the world, but I love it and that's why I've made it my legal residence.
All the wild stories you've read about Vegas are true, and then some. It's the most fabulous showplace in the world. Mile upon mile along The Strip there are hotels, night clubs and bars all dedicated to one thing--gambling.
But I'll let you into a secret. I don't gamble. I don't like to and maybe I just can't afford to.
Could I stand this pace always? Frankly. I've not tried, because I've never been able to live there for more than two months at a time. But I guess it's home to me.
My idea of having a good time might surprise some people. I get a great kick out of being "Uncle Vic" to my golf pro's kids.
I take them out to three towns near my home on a toy-buying spree. Naturally, they think I'm the tops. Maybe I wouldn't be so popular if I had to spank them now and then, but we get along just great.
There have been rumours that I don't intend to marry again, but these just aren't true. I think love and marriage are fine.
When the right girl comes along-I'll know it. And I'll be ready to settle down again.
Right now my best girl is my mother-bless her. I was an only child, but that doesn't say I was spoiled. I started acting early in life --particularly when I didn't want to go to school. I would complain of pains in my middle, my legs, my head. What a performance! But it didn't fool Mom.
She would say: "You're too mean to let a germ live inside of you. Get off to school!"
And off I went. I've been doing what she asks ever since. Because in this crazy life I guess I'll always believe that Momma knows best.