Happy Father’s Day, Lyle! *Wherever You Are
I often think of my father, the late actor (and cofounder of the Screen Actors Guild) Lyle Talbot, so I don’t need a Hallmark Card day to remind me. I see flashes of his handsome face in my sons and in my nephew. I loved how Lyle came home late from work, after a long day at the studio, still wearing makeup and full of hot Hollywood gossip and fun stories. Sometimes, as I watched him rehearse for plays, he seemed like a kid to me, so eager to please the director. (I decided right then and there that I needed to have more power in my own life.) But more often, he seemed like a man to me, one of the few actors who managed to make enough money (more in some years than others) to support a family of six. And to stay warm and loving to his wife and children through all the ups and downs.
One of my favorite memories of my dad is in his theater dressing rooms in the minutes before he went on stage. During the 30 minutes before stage time, a theater manager would rap on his door and bark, “Thirty minutes to showtime, Mr. Talbot!… 15 minutes to showtime,…. five minutes to showtime!” With each announcement of his impending stage entrance, I would grow more and more nervous on his behalf, my palms growing moist (a family affliction) and my heart starting to thump. By the time he finally had to get up and head toward the stage, I was a nervous wreck. But throughout these ticking minutes to curtain, Lyle remained cool as a cucumber, asking us about our schoolwork, telling amusing stories about his fellow cast members. I was in awe of his professionalism, and his ability to focus on his family even at stressful times. Grace under pressure — that’s my memory of my father.
He was 50 by the time I was born. He had costarred with many leading ladies, and had been lovers with a number of them (including Loretta Young and Carole Lombard). His marriage to my much younger mother was number five for him, but it was the one that stuck. She kicked him out of the house when he couldn’t stop drinking and partying —even though she had three young kids at the time. But he came back, after committing himself to AA and getting sober. He always liked strong women, including his leading ladies like Barbara Stanwyck and Ann Dvorak. In fact, he was raised by one, his grandmother. And my mother, Paula, ran our show in her firm but loving way.
I was with him when he died, peacefully in his own bed — luck of the Irish. (Ironically, he outlived my mother — but her spirit had visited him in his new San Francisco apartment, a story I tell in my memoir, Between Heaven and Hell.) I scattered his ashes in a cove beyond the Golden Gate, where I had scattered my mother’s ashes a few years before. I think of him every time I cross the bridge. In my mind, he’s always looking elegant in a tuxedo, with silver lighting.
Lyle with Ann Dvorak, in Three on a Match