David Hedison’s Five Favorite Memories
David Hedison has many favorite memories; below are five of them.
#1: When I boarded the train from Providence, Rhode Island, to make the 3½ hour journey to New York City. I was to start my first year the Neighborhood Playhouse School of the Theatre and was given the opportunity to work with some of the outstanding talents in the theatre. I’ll never forget that train ride, and all the day dreaming I did during that trips. It seems like a million years ago–but the memory is sharp and clear.
#2: The day I called my answering service to check my messages. The sound of the girl’s voice at the other end saying: “The Phoenix Theatre called to say you got the part and you’re to go and pick up the script.”
I kept blurting: “What? What? I didn’t get the part–and they want to what?”
The girl, very busy at the time, was fast losing patience, but the message finally sank in. I was so happy, I cried. The play was “A Month in the Country,” which was to be directed by Sir Michael Redgrave and starred Uta Hagen. How there’s a memory for you!
#3: Positano, Italy, May 1967. I was scouting locations for a film I was to do a year later [Kemek]. I was with the producer, an old friend, and I remember he bought me a drink because it was my birthday. But that’s not the memory. We were looking for a man named Schwartz who was to be the film cutter. Several hours later we found him at a disco called the Buca de Baca. It was loud, noisy, and exciting. The headwaiter pointed Norman Schwartz out to us. He was on the dance floor dancing with a very attractive girl. We walked over to him, he stopped dancing and the introductions began. He introduced his dance partner, Bridget Mori. There was a brief moment, and I think the world stopped. I got the next dance with Bridget Mori, and we were married a year later.
#4 & 5: The birth of Alexandra. Two memories here. The drive to the hospital. I was excited and happy and nervous. Suppose I ran out of gas, suppose I took the wrong turn to the hospital, suppose she had the baby in the car, and I would have to deliver–all those silly thoughts running through my mind. Bridget just sat there comfortable, as calm as I’ve ever seen her in my life. You would have thought I was taking her to local movie house.
Second memory. In the labor room with Bridget. The nurse coming in to check, and I took a peek seeing my first glimpse of Alexandra coming out behind-first. I will never forget it. Bridget’s pain and that old cliché about the Daddy pacing the hospital corridor is no joke. Four thousand years went by and I walked into another corridor where they were just wheeling Bridget out. She was hold the most beautiful baby I had ever seen. It had just been sent from Heaven.
The birth of Serena, England. King’s Collage Hospital. 3:06 pm–four minutes later than Alexandra. This time I was allowed in the labor room, and the doctor allowed me to take pictures. I was madly snapping away. Click, click, click–like a Life photographer trying to capture that perfect picture for the January cover.
“It’s a girl,” the doctor announced.
More pictures. More pictures. I suddenly found myself announcing I had to call Bridget’s mother to tell her the news. I flew out of the room towards the nearest telephone–but reappeared twelve seconds later and said to the doctor in a rather loud voice: “Excuse me, Doctor, there’s no doubt about it?!”