Robert Evans: Of Bad Lungs and New York Showgirls

Only somewhat cynically do I read Vanity Fair's Oscar blog Little Gold Men; I would follow ex-Gawker editor Jessica Coen just about anywhere, but I resigned myself long ago to a soul-scorching culture of such seasonal blogs being just good enough to plug a fistful of ads into, waving off the prospect of breaking through with anything fresh or original. Being Vanity Fair, however, the benefit of self-reference also allows for little miracles like these: both a video trailer and an audio clip excerpting producer Robert Evans' forthcoming memoir Kid Notorious.

The video speaks for itself, and the magazine's current Hollywood issue features a lengthy printed passage. But the audio is where it's at, enticing you to close your eyes and take in this croak about Evans' near-death experience in May 1948, when he was hospitalized in New York for a lung strain incurred during, well, you know:

"Damn it! There I was copping my first part in flicks, and my fucking lung pops from fucking! ... A high-school senior kept by three of New York's top showgirls? All beautiful and all double my age? They'd think I was nuts! A punk kid rattling off that he was known on Broadway as the between-shows fuck of the year -- from the Latin Quarter, to Billy Rose's Diamond Horseshoe to the Copacabana."

Naturally this anecdote trickles out around the six-minute mark of an hour-long sample; I didn't have the stomach for the rest, but if you do, I hope you'll kick back the Cliff Notes.

Posted at February 8, 2007 11:55 AM