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While "Pocket Money" was filming in Tucson in 1972, Vicki McFarland (in the background) hung out on the set and managed to get close to Paul Newman. In her story e-mailed to the Star she wrote, "I was lucky enough to spend three days on the set. I also saw his wife, Joanne Woodward, come driving up in a Caddy convertible, and met Lee Marvin — a down-home friendly person."
Courtesy of Vicki McFarland
More Photos (4):
A bear to work with
My family and I were camping in Happy Valley, east of the Rincon Mountains. I was out walking my dog, Sam. A van pulled alongside and a man said, "Miss, you'd better get your dog, we have a bear here." The van parked, and a couple of men proceeded to unload a black bear.
Our campsite turned out to be a movie set for "The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean" (1972).
They proceeded to film the scene where Paul and co-star Victoria Principal were seesawing with the bear on a log placed across a notch in a huge old sycamore tree that was lying on its side. Each time the bear came down, it attempted to climb out of its seat, and men pushed it back in and fed it Tootsie Rolls and honey.
Later, as part of the scene, the bear was crawling around on the downed tree (Tootsie Rolls were placed around on the log to get the bear to move). When the Tootsie Rolls ran out, the bear stopped moving. We gave them an unfinished box of donuts, which did the trick.
Throughout the filming, crew members, along with directors and cast, moved throughout our campsite. For the several hours we were all on that set, I observed Paul to be friendly, outgoing and genuinely human in a way none of his characters could portray.
— Heidi Schewel, media relations
The poker game
During the filming of the "Hombre" (in 1966), I was a member of a weekly group that played seven-card stud poker. We were playing one night at the home of my now deceased friend, Jud Kane, who was the owner-operator of the Tack Room restaurant.
Two of Jud's out-of-state friends who regularly dined at the Tack Room dropped in. They were the director, Marty Ritt, and Paul Newman. Surprisingly, he (Newman) was short, much shorter than I imagined.
Jud offered him something to drink and immediately Paul asked for a beer. By midnight he must have had six to eight cans and wouldn't stop talking. Since it was getting late, we decided to play one more round.
During the last game of the night, by the sixth round, all other players had dropped out, except for the two Pauls — Newman and Paul Present, then of Daniels Jewelry. Paul Newman had two deuces and two 3's showing and no help from his two hold cards. Paul Present had four hearts showing and a fifth heart as one of his hold cards; so he had a flush without needing a seventh card, which beat Paul Newman's two pairs.
Paul Present was ordinarily a very conservative bettor. Still, with a flush already achieved, he felt confident, and bet $200.
Paul Newman, on the other hand, blatantly asked Marty Ritt to put up the $200 for him.
As luck would have it, Paul Newman's seventh card was another deuce, resulting in a full house! Whereupon, after the cards were opened, Paul Present, feeling snake-bit, angrily stood up, bade everyone good night and went home.
EPILOGUE: When Paul Newman was informed the next day about his raucous and loud behavior the night before, he sent a large bouquet of flowers to Janie Kane, Jud's wife, with a note of apology. . . . Paul Newman, based upon his winnings from that last pot, broke even for the night.
— Jerry Sonenblick, 77
Real estate developer

Accent

Newman a regular, gracious guy

Tucson, Arizona | Published: 10.05.2008
Those blue eyes caught the attention of men and women alike as Tucsonans encountered the legendary Paul Newman — at college in Ohio, in restaurants, on Tucson streets and even in a local poker game.
Several-dozen stories came in from readers — mentioning over and over that he seemed like a regular guy who loved beer.
Unfortunately, we can't include all those tales, but here are edited versions of a sampling attesting to Newman's gracious, fun-loving nature.
— Maria Parham
My daughter Alex was 16 and working her first job as a busser at Acacia at St. Philip's restaurant when Paul Newman and a group of friends came in for dinner one night.
She was later telling me about it and I asked her if she realized who Paul Newman was. She replied, "Of course, he's the guy on the salad dressing bottle!"
— Becky Dockins, 53
OB/GYN nurse practitioner
Alex, 20, is now a junior at Arizona State University.
Back in the early 1970s I was on a motorcycle riding through the Downtown area. I stopped at a red light, and as I sat there Paul Newman was crossing the street. He was alone and I was not sure it was him. I said, "Hey Paul," and he looked up, kind of half smiled and waved. A chance encounter. He seemed like a nice guy.
— Dale S. Hutchings, 62
Accountant
As a TV reporter in 1981, I was covering the auto races in Sonoma, Calif. Paul Newman was racing. I was seeking "the" interview. I managed to get myself invited into his trailer, where I met him, shook hands and made some small talk.
He declined to be interviewed, saying he "hadn't done anything yet."
"If I win the race, then you can interview me," was his position. He didn't win. I didn't, either.
— Bill Boaz, 56
Retired from sales
In 1972, when Paul Newman was filming "Pocket Money," the physician I worked with, Dr. David Minter, was the cast physician. During the filming, Paul Newman was thrown off a horse and sustained a scalp laceration. He was brought to the office, and in the preparation of cleaning the laceration, I started to clip a few hairs to make a clean suture area.
Mr. Newman looked at me with those drop-dead baby blues and said, "The hell you will and stop a $1 million film!" So with that, I put down the scissors!
After the laceration was closed, I took each strand of hair from under the threads so that the wound was not visible. My hand was shaking like a leaf on a tree!
— Rosalie Shelton, 68
Retired family nurse practitioner
I first met Paul at Kenyon College, Gambier, Ohio, in 1948 when I was a freshman in the Class of 1952. Paul had returned from serving "three hell-raising years" in the U.S. Navy (radioman/gunner in torpedo bombers in the Pacific) and was a senior.
During '48-'49 Paul starred in several stage productions, including "Charley's Aunt," in which he played the Lord Fancourt Babberley, a comedy part.
Regardless of his intentions, Paul continued his hell-raising ways, and it was a common sight to see him with a cold beer in each hand. His philosophy was: "I would not let my studies interfere with extracurricular activities."
Paul was involved in various activities, one being his laundry business. Every Friday he would collect students' dirty shirts and deliver them the following Monday sans buttons or even collars.
Paul's last role at Kenyon was in a free-wheeling comedy written by him and two other students. It was called "The Kenyon Review," "The Kenyon Revue" or "The Runyon Review," depending on who was telling the story. I was fortunate to be in the men's chorus, which meant we were on stage a great deal of the time.
To say that we had fun is a great understatement.
Lest I leave you with the impression that all Paul did was drink and raise hell, I hasten to point out that he did earn his degree and graduate from Kenyon. He was like all the other WWII veterans who did their homework every afternoon and then went out for beer in the evening. Paul was a real "pistol," and I am very lucky to have known him.
— John W. Humphrys, 77
Retired U.S. Army officer
Paul Newman came to ASDM with his wife, Joanne, on numerous occasions. They walked the grounds and found this a place of uninterrupted relaxation. Most people did not even know they were "on grounds."
One time I was walking between the main buildings and looked over to a bench where I saw a woman and her husband/partner. The woman was sitting with the husband's head on her lap as he lay down. You could just see the love as she ran her hand over his head and hair.
I thought at that time, "My, what a handsome couple and isn't it nice that this older couple cares so much for each other, it just radiates. This is just such a wonderful sight."
I continued on my journey with a glance back and I saw that the nice handsome older couple so much in love was Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward. Here in the desert they found a little place to be themselves.
— Mary Powell-McConnell
Records and quarantine tech at the Desert Museum
I grew up across the street from Paul Newman in Shaker Heights, Ohio. Some years ago I was visiting my daughter in Chicago and took her and her boyfriend for a late evening drink in the Whitehall Hotel cocktail lounge. In a few minutes, Paul and Joanne walked in and sat several tables away.
I told my daughter who it was and my background watching Paul and his buddies play softball on the corner lot when I was a little kid and 7 years younger than he was. I wanted to speak to him, but she was embarrassed and wouldn't let me.
After that I left a note for him at the front desk asking him if he remembered that part of his life. The next day there was a nice note back saying those were fun days and, yes, he remembered them.
Later my daughter and I saw Paul and Joanne coming out of the hotel, dressed in blue jeans and carrying a small picnic cooler and holding hands. The concierge told me they had stayed there for years and that's just the way they were . . . simple, unpretentious and genuine.
— Fred Heller, 76,
Retired mining company executive
It was 1963. Just a year out of high school, I was working at the old MGM Studios in Culver City, Calif. The lot was swarming with movie stars in those days, so I wasn't prone to be star-struck.
The studio was filming "The Prize" with Paul Newman, and this was the day that he was shooting his nude scene with Elke Sommer.
There was only one other occupant in the elevator as I stepped in. I looked over and standing there was Paul Newman, wearing nothing but a short, baby blue terry bathrobe — and those amazingly brilliant blue eyes. There I was in a 5-by-5 space with that near-naked, gorgeous hunk of a man. . . . Needless to say, I forgot to breathe!
— Lonni Lees, 63
Artist and writer
In 1968 as the general election approached, Paul Newman was against the war in Vietnam and a former supporter of Sen. Eugene McCarthy. Now, Democratic candidate Hubert Humphrey needed him.
I was Humphrey's press secretary, and we eagerly sought Newman, through a mutual friend, to be the host of our "telethon" the night before the election.
He agreed to consider the role, but only if he could interview Humphrey and Mrs. Humphrey separately to see if he could comfortably and publicly support them.
At the hour set for the interview, there was a knock at our hotel suite door. I opened the door to find a stern-faced Newman who said, unnecessarily, "I'm Paul Newman."
After minimal pleasantries, Newman's first question was one he had obviously planned and rehearsed. He thought he had a zinger.
Referring to a historic speech Humphrey had made in 1948, 20 years earlier, on the need for civil rights legislation, Newman asked coldly, and with an accusatory tone, "Why did you give that 1948 civil rights speech in the North, in Philadelphia?"
He clearly implied that it should have been given in the South and that it was craven to do less. A bewildered Humphrey's eyes flashed about as he tried to figure out what the trap was. After a moment of awkward silence, he said, "Well, that's where the Democratic Convention was."
The Humphreys passed their Newman test, and Newman was a wonderful host on the telethon.
— Norman Sherman, 80
Retired from political campaigns and government
Paul Newman was filming "Slap Shot" in Johnstown, Pa., in 1977. He came up to Indiana, Pa., to film a few segments. I was a sophomore attending Indiana University of Pennsylvania. The word on campus was "Paul Newman is in town!"
We loaded into a friend's car and rushed to the film site, never thinking we would actually get to see Paul Newman. But, there he was . . . looking so handsome! He toasted us with his Budweiser.
— Karen Vincent Kos, 51
Retired/ceramics student
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