When Richard Widmark Hugs You, You Stay Hugged
Back in the spring of 2001, the Walter Reade Theatre had a retrospective of Richard Widmark films, with a special—to put it mildly—appearance by the man himself, who was then 86.
I had loved Richard Widmark since I was a kid, when I saw him in Don’t Bother to Knock. He seemed like a bit of a heel at first, but there was something about him—something that told me a very fragile, deeply disturbed Marilyn Monroe would be safe with him. (She was—on and off the screen.) I hadn’t yet seen him push Mildred Dunnock down a flight of stairs in her wheelchair—which, he once recalled, was the first scene he ever shot on film after making the move from Broadway to Hollywood. (“I said to Henry Hathaway, ‘You want me to do what?'”) But by then I already adored him. (Poor Tommy Udo, I thought—so misunderstood!)
So off I went to the theatre, clutching my then-fiancé (now long-suffering husband) Tim with one hand and my fan letter with the other. It went on for about four pages but mostly said “I LOVE YOUUUUUUUUUUU!” (It was all very sophisticated, I tells ya.)
We got there nice and early and sat right on the aisle; I figured when he passed by on his way to the stage, I could give the letter to him or whoever was with him. In my excitement, it took a while for it to dawn on me that—duh—there’s an aisle on either side of the theatre, and he could just as easily go up the other one.
So I scrambled to the lobby to give the letter to somebody, anybody. But then—wham bang sigh faint—there he was. Fans were sort of swarming him. One galoot ran up, stood next to him, handed his friend a camera for a picture, and then scampered away, without saying a word. Like he was posing next to Stonehenge instead of an actual human being. Others were kind of chewing his ear off and monopolizing him, but he was very gracious about it, nodding, smiling, not getting a word in, not seeming to mind. He was clearly used to it, God help him. Most of them looked kind of like this (and yes, some actual berets were present):
One especially gaseous fan (I’m sure he’d prefer cinephile) asked a question that seemed designed to cram everything he knew about film into one five-minute ramble, which boiled down to, “Why didn’t you ever direct?” After seeming a little startled that the guy had actually stopped talking, Widmark smiled, trained his clear-eyed gaze on him, and answered in eight words: “I didn’t want to get up that early.”
Sensing he was just about ready to bolt, I started to panic. My usual instinct in these situations is to flee, ceding the floor to the pushy, squeaky wheels. But not this time. I had to give him that letter. So I sort of wriggled into the crowd, and suddenly there he was, right in front of me, beaming a lovely smile, his blue-gray eyes sparkling. I handed him the letter and said something like, “Mr. Widmark, I knew you’d be very busy with everyone wanting to see you, so I just wrote a few things down, to say how much you mean to me.” Only I think it sounded more like, “Aaaaauuuughoooouuuhhaaaaahuuuuuhooooh.”
And he stepped forward out of the horde and hugged me hard and said, “That’s wonderful!” A warm wave of current swept through me, short-circuiting my limbs and making me so wobbly I was sort of weaving. Hoping I could make a semi-graceful exit that wouldn’t leave me in a heap on the sticky lobby floor, I said thank you or I love you or something and staggered back to my seat, cursing my knees for lack of support.
Tim took one look at me and said dryly, “I guess you found him.”
About a week later, I opened my mailbox to find a lovely cream-colored envelope, in gorgeous, exuberant handwriting, postmarked Roxbury, Connecticut, where I knew he lived. I leaned against the wall in the lobby, held my breath, and opened it. It was from him. I slid down the wall and sat on the floor, and my neighbors, coming home from work, were like, “Uh, are you okay? Should we call someone?” I was fine. Beyond fine. In the letter, he thanked me for my very kind (underlined) words. And I thought, no, not kind. Just true. And not nearly enough words to describe how wonderful he was.
While writing this tonight, I looked up the dates for that film festival; the night we saw Richard Widmark was the first Saturday of the series. It was May 19. Exactly 15 years ago today.
It seems this man will never stop giving me chills.
P.S.: I have stayed hugged.
Sister Celluloid 
Wow. That’s wonderful. It’s so nice, isn’t it, when someone you’ve always admired turns out to be a class act in real life, too.
Thanks for brightening my day.
Thank you for your kind words, Mark!! I’m so glad you enjoyed it. I know you appreciate what it feels like to experience something like this…
You made me cry. They are happy tears.
Patricia, I’ve seen it time and again… you and I are SUCH kindred spirits!! ❤
And in the pre-internet age we would never have known.
oh this is perfect, just perfect! but then so are you…love this and love you…have really been missing your posts. yes, thanks for brightening my day too…and mr. widmarks’s all those years ago 🙂
Thank you so much, Hala!! I’ve been preoccupied with family responsibilities but am trying to do a better job of juggling everything. I miss writing and being in touch with everybody! Sending love from New York…. ❤
Boy, you tell beautiful stories! After reading this one and the one about your father and “Casablanca,” I’m convinced you ought to write a book of these anecdotes. Major props for getting the hug from Widmark, too!
Reblogged this on and commented:
Another entry in the Classic Movie Ice Cream Social Blogathon. Man, can this woman tell a story.
A lovely post. I love hearing when a celebrity is really a nice person (if you know what I mean)! 😉👍
What a sweet story. Thank you for sharing it 🙂
Congratulations! This has to be my leading candidate for my favorite read of the year out here in the world of blogs.
I envy you for having this wonderful experience with one of my favorites. Wonderful story.
Have you seen the A&E biography episode on Widmark. A great story within on his life and film career not to mention dedication to family.
Dear Sister Celluloid,
Thank you so much for your fabulous account of meeting with Richard Widmark.
I read your article and almost cried because I know I would have felt exactly the same way, had I been so lucky.
I do however have two letters written by him to me. The first was back in the 1950s
when he responded to a letter I had written and gave me permission to start a fan club club for him here in the UK. He said how he loved working in England and was pleased that we were banding together on his behalf. The second was one of thanks for organising a website for his 90th birthday. Anne very kindly showed it to him on her lap top. I printed it out later, made it into an album with greetings to him from across the world and posted it to him.
Those letters are two of my most precious possessions.
Thanks again, lucky lady!
bw Valerie
A beautiful guy and an equally beautiful post!
When I saw your title, I knew this was going to be a good post. Thank you for sharing this wonderful story. I remember having trouble when I was young relating the distinguished Richard Widmark I would see on television with Tommy Udo. I never met him, but I remember many people who did saying how gracious he was. I’m glad you reinforced that.
Ah, what a wonderful story! You warmed up my heart and put a smile on my face. You are a great storyteller, I loved how you described everything to make us feel part of the scene.
Don’t forget to read my contribution to the blogathon! 🙂
Cheers!
Le
What a really nice story,l have liked Richard widmark for years .great actor so under appreciated he always seemed to believe in what he was doing .
So, I’ve just found this and it’s blown me away. Richard Widmark should be on everyone’s list of cinematic heroes – or even just heroes, period. When you have an experience like this, with someone you admire, it stays with you forever.
Yes it does, Eve!! I’m so glad you felt that way about it. Thank you so much for sharing your feelings!! ❤
I’ve read this blog entry over and over, and I never tire of it. It perfectly encapsulates how we mere mortals respond to meeting our cinematic gods and goddesses. I have just passed the link for this blog to a friend of mine who is similarly enamored of Mr. Widmark. I’m sure she’ll love it.
Aw, Steve thank you so much!! I hope it conveyed the magic of that moment!!
That is WONDERFUL! I’ve always adored Richard Widmark – and Sky Arts in the UK have just screened “Discovering: Richard Widmark”. I was looking for a suitable gif to thank them with and the search led me to your article. Thank you for making me grin like all my Christmases came at once whilst reading this.
Thank you so much, Sandra!! ❤