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September 22, 1962 |
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He Would Like
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Larry Blyden, a slender, tense-looking actor with a well-constructed profile and dark horn rimmed glasses, had been sufficiently "exposed" to be as familiar to television viewers as their kissing cousins. Over the past 12 years he has performed in light-comedy roles on all the top dramatic shows. He has appeared in specials. For one summer he was the hero of a situation comedy called Joe and Mabel. He was, furthermore, a smashing success in the serious role of Sammy in "What Makes Sammy Run?" Nevertheless he has failed to make an impact on the public, has never quite registered as a personality. As Larry himself puts it rather woefully: "The fact that I'm in something sells very few tickets." Larry's talent for going unnoticed amid the glare of public exposure is subject for minor debate in entertainment circles, where his talent is widely recognized. Some observers of Larry's career blame it on an undistinguished, bland or even blank personality which makes no significant impact. A journalist once described him as a man with a "average face, average voice and average figure" who "melts easily into a crowd." Others -- his co-workers in particular -- contradict these allegations violently, declare Larry Blyden to be a fascinating, colorful and unusual man who has simply not yet had the "breaks." One such is actress Dina Merrill, who co-starred with him in "What Makes Sammy Run?": "I don't think it's because he's colorless or bland at all," she says. "I first met him at Stella Adler's studio. He gave us a lecture on comedy. He was marvelous, he was dynamic, he was inspiring. We were all absolutely enthralled. I never forgot him. Then when we were doing 'Sammy,' all through the rehearsals he gave me goose bumps! I'll never forget working with him, so long as I live! I think he's incredibly talented." Dull or colorful? The truth is that Larry Blyden has streaks of both qualities in him -- and has had since childhood. He grew up in Houston during the depression and, as he puts it, "Like many another, I assumed that being poor was personal. It was hard for me to realize that it was a general condition and not my family's fault." His early years were punctuated by envy of the "rich kids who had money, clothes, cars." "I felt personally insignificant," he says. "At 13 I was a listless, unambitious fellow. I discovered astronomy. The implications of it overwhelmed me. The physical sizes, the distances, the idea of the universe being that old... well, it just made me feel there was no sense in doing anything. I saw that I was a tiny, tiny tiniest little dot in the midst of all of this. I didn't overcome this feeling of futility for a long time." It lasted until he discovered the theater, in high school. Play acting, he reports, became a convenient "escape" from his personality problems. "I didn't have to be me. I could be somebody else," he says. "Also, I discovered that when I made people laugh I was accepted by people despite things for which I was rejected in other areas. There was one little group from which I was shut out. Acting became a crowbar for prying my way in." Thus did Larry Blyden choose his life's career. His first professional jobs were in Houston radio, where he announced and acted in dramatic shows. The war took three years out of his life -- he was a Marine officer. Then he went to the University of Houston, was graduated, went to New York and tried to break into the theater. In 1949, he was hired for a part in "Mr. Roberts" which launched his career. A dark view of TV A mild-voiced mild-mannered man who talks nonstop in an oddly monotonous voice, he becomes actively indignant when he discusses developments in the theater. "The theater, like everything else is in an Age Of Mediocrity," he says, "There's no flamboyant human expression. There are no giants, no great exploding innovators, no plays of ideas, no satires, no great stars. It's the loss of individualism. Everything has become like the Marine Corps -- you know that ghastly expression, 'Stay in the middle, don't be noticed?'" His view of TV is equally dark. "It's mediocre because it's so organized. It's ruled by conferences and committees. You know Eddie Chodorov's line 'A camel is a horse that was made in a conference'? That's TV. Take the best of TV -- Rod Serling's work, for example -- it bears the stamp of one man. Nothing can ever be a work of art without bearing the stamp of one man, of one mind." Was married to Carol Haney If his career is not unmitigated pleasure for Larry, neither is his private life. He was divorced several months ago from dancer Carol Haney. "Carol is an enormous talent," he says. "With that talent go all the complications that talent seems to carry with it -- fears, insecurities, drives. I'm just as complicated, and I've got drives too. It's very difficult to make marriage work under these circumstances." Their children, Joshua, 5, and Ellen, 19 months, live with their mother. Meantime he's still struggling for that "success" which, as he puts it, "is still out there a little in front of me." He's directing a play called "Harold" starring Anthony Perkins, which opens on Broadway at the end of November. His TV plans are unsettled. Will he or won't he achieve real stardom? The question is still open, as the debate over his personality, with its intermingling elements of futility and confidence. Despite the "Age Of Mediocrity" -- and his own haunting awareness of being part of it -- Larry Blyden's money is on Larry Blyden. Who knows? It is perfectly possible that Dina Merrill's prediction for him may yet come to pass: "One day, he'll have the right part in a wonderful play and a marvelous director, and -- whammo!" |
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