Chapter 41
Parenting and these glorious United States aren’t the only soapboxes to which I’m going to subject you, just a little. There’s something else I feel quite strongly about, and that’s smoking.
I tried smoking when I was a kid, with some of my father’s old Italian stogies. I remember my buddy Joey and I were at the top of the hill. By the time we finished those stogies we were down at the bottom. We had rolled down, sicker than dogs. It kind of held me off smoking until I was around eighteen and joined the navy. I saw everybody else smoking cigarettes, so it came kind of naturally.
I was going along smoking mostly Bull Durham in those days. Cigarettes only cost five cents a pack at the navy PX and we didn’t realize that it was really an addiction.
Just before I started McHale’s Navy I was smoking five packs a day. I had become a chain-smoker. My fingertips were brown from the smoke. I would cough from the morning until about midday. It wasn’t a problem when I was doing a scene, because I was concentrating on something else. But when I was just by myself I would cough like a madman.
One day I woke up and my voice was gone. I went to a doctor in Beverly Hills, who swabbed some kind of oil on my throat and instantly my voice was fine.
But when I hit the sidewalk after I left the doctor, my voice was gone again. I went to another doctor at UCLA. After one look at my throat, he said, “You tell your doctor to put you in the hospital today. We operate tomorrow.”
To say that I was frightened is putting it mildly. I was sure I was going to die.
The doctors took out a nodule that had grown inside my throat. It was benign, thank God. I lost about half my voice from that. I could still put out a pretty good holler, but after about two or three of them my voice would give out.
The famous Surgeon General’s report had just come out, linking smoking to cancer. I didn’t need the doctors to convince me to give up smoking. I still go to my doctor every year to look at my lungs, and they’re still black from that awful cigarette smoke. He tells me they’ll be that way for the rest of my life—a potential ticking time bomb.
So I beg you all, please: give up smoking. It’s a drug, it’s a nasty habit, and in the end it’s going to kill you. If they could, I’m sure John Wayne, Lee Marvin, Yul Brynner, and some of the other colleagues of mine it’s killed would agree.
The point of this long story is this: there are better ways to relax than by lighting a cigarette or getting drunk or doing drugs or any of the things we do to ourselves because of stress or social demands. And, you know, the time you sit there is not only relaxing, it’s good for reflection. In our increasingly fast-paced world, I can’t recommend that enough.
So here I am.
I’ve been knocking around this planet for nearly a century, working for much of that time and still raring to go.
Thanks to you, too, the fans who have stuck by me (and the readers who have stayed with me) ! It’s been a helluva journey, from Connecticut to Italy, from San Diego to Hawaii, from New York to Hollywood and all around the world.
The lifespan for an actor, Spencer Tracy once said, is about the same as that of the common housefly, although Mr. Tracy’s incredible career belies that statement. My late friend Jack Elam once described the career of a character actor. It went like this: “Who’s Jack Elam? Get me Jack Elam. Get me a Jack Elam type. Get me a young Jack Elam. Who’s the hell’s Jack Elam?”
While there’s a lot of truth to that, the fact is, I’ve never had to consider retiring . I may not be as quick on my feet as I used to be. When I made Aces and Eights last year I needed a ladder to climb onto my horse. The guy helping me said, “Your ass used to be a lot younger.” I said, “So was the horse.” But I’m still in demand, still getting the calls.
Turns out I didn’t win the Golden Globe for A Grandpa for Christmas, but that’s okay. I’ve gone from a working stiff who didn’t want to set the world on fire, who just wanted to keep his nuts warm, to where I am.
And that’s been more than I could have ever hoped for.
God bless. And thanks for stopping by.