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33 i Karl Malden ‘‘With a name like Mladen George Sekulovich, agents thought I was a member of the Bolshoi Ballet,’’ Malden joked when asked about his early attempts in the late 1930s to get acting work in New York. A name change and a few lucky breaks landed Karl Malden with some of the industry’s greatest stage and screen roles: Mitch in A Streetcar Named Desire (1951); Father Barry in On the Waterfront (1954); Dad Longworth in One-Eyed Jacks (1961); Herbie Sommers in Gypsy (1962); and Omar Bradley in Patton (1970), to name a few. I visited the ninety-seven-year-old actor at his West Los Angeles home, where he shared stories, memories, and even a few confessions. Karl Malden died on July 1, 2009, just a few months after our encounter. ‘‘When did you know that you wanted to become an actor?’’ ‘‘I was hooked on acting from the time I was a kid. My father loved the theater and produced Serbian-language plays in which my mother and I acted. After I graduated from high school, I got a job working in the steel mills in Gary, Indiana. In time, I began to wonder, Is this how I’m going to spend the rest of my life? I decided to try to make it as an actor. So, I quit my job at the mills and took o√ for the Goodman Theatre, the dramatic arts school at the Chicago Art Institute. I hadn’t applied and didn’t even have a letter of introduction. I just walked in. The man in charge was Dr. Gnesin who o√ered me a full three-year scholarship. My dad thought I had gone crazy to pursue acting in the middle of the Great Depression. But my mother stepped in and said, ‘how will he know if he’s any good unless he tries.’ ’’ ‘‘After graduating from the Goodman Theatre, did you head straight for New York?’’ ‘‘No, not immediately. I had no money, so I went back to Gary and drove a milk truck for a while. Then I got a telegram from Robert Ardrey, a playwright I had met in Chicago, informing me that there was a small part for me in his next play. I collected whatever money I had earned at the dairy and hopped on a bus for New York City. The year was 1934. When I arrived, I got the news that the play had been canceled. So here I was without a job and only $175. I knew that wouldn’t take me very far. 34 The Actor Within Days later, Ardrey got in touch with me and o√ered to introduce me to Harold Clurman, one of the original founders of the Group Theatre. Elia Kazan also attended the meeting. After our conversation, I’m heading for the door, ‘thank you very much,’ and Kazan calls out, ‘Leave your telephone number and your address with the girl outside.’ And sure enough, a week later I got a call to appear at the Belasco Theatre. I was o√ered a four-line part in what was to become a big hit, Golden Boy by Cli√ord Odets. I was cast as the manager of the boxer who dies in a fight. I knew if I was going to get anywhere I had to make those four lines count: ‘You murdered my boy. He’s dead. You killed him. You murdered my boy.’ That’s all I had, but I had to make an impression.’’ Malden’s recalling his lines of more than seventy years ago at a moments notice and performed as if he were on the verge of tears was stunning. Malden’s actor within was staring me right in the face. ‘‘After your initial success, did you look for specific roles to play?’’ ‘‘No. I took whatever I could get. During my twenty years in New York, I acted in twenty-four plays—a lot of failures, a few hits—and that got me through. From that time forward, I never had to do any other kind of job. I didn’t have to sell ties at Macy’s or hot dogs on street corners like so many. I knew that, if I didn’t succeed, I’d have to go home and face my father. I’d have to say, ‘You were right and I was wrong. I’d have to admit failure. So I went door...

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