Then why did I marry? And why Molly? It’s a long story, but I’ll simplify it. Everything in my early life gave me a sense of worthlessness. (Relax, reader, I don’t want your pity.) My foreignness. My looks—or what I thought of them. The mumps at fourteen and what resulted. My father’s opinion of me and his disappointment, the boys in school pushing me outside their society, the girls whom everyone else was “taking out” and their indifference to me. At Williams I was not invited to join a fraternity, at the Yale Drama School I showed no talent, and none as an actor to the directors of the Group during that first unsuccessful summer. I finally had to believe what Harold Clurman believed: that I had no gift except an excess of energy, therefore no future with the Group or anywhere else.

On all these particulars Molly set out to reassure me. She was the first person who saw artistic potential in me; she not only stood behind me, she pushed me forward. She was sure I had a great talent; when events proved that I did have some, she became my talisman of success. She made me feel I could get to the top of a profession in the performing arts. With her help! And along with all that, she couldn’t wait to get in bed with me.