The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer Page #4

Each age, each era becomes visual

to us when the artist...

...recreates it in stone, bronze

or on canvas.

The essence of art is simplicity. If I wanted

to capture the feeling of America...

...it wouldn't be necessary to go looking

for mountains or fields of grain.

I'd try to put America on canvas

in a picture of one of you.

In your denims with the cuffs rolled up

and the shirt open at the neck.

You'd be young, eager and proud

because of what's ahead of you.

You're the kids who, in a few years, will run

our factories, our farms, our businesses.

You'll be voting to make this country

a place were there's good will...

-...freedom, opportunity and tolerance.

-You feeling all right?

So if I were going to do a portrait of you,

I'd try to convey all that. Thank you.

Mr. Nugent. Mr. Nugent.

My name is Susan Turner.

I'm a student here.

-No!

-Yes.

I loved your speech.

-Thank you.

-Goodbye, Mr. Nugent.

Well, nice to have met you.

But you don't understand.

I have to interview you.

-You what?

-For the school paper. I'm editor in chief.

-Shall we go somewhere private?

-I'd like to, but--

It isn't every day that we have

a famous artist here.

-I bet you've had a terribly interesting life.

-Not very.

Could we do this later? I have a date.

-Then you're not married.

-No.

I knew you weren't.

You just couldn't be.

Oh, I've had some offers.

It's this way.

-We can talk in here.

-Yes, but don't you see? l--

Please?

-Have you ever been married?

-No.

-Have you ever been in love?

-Yes, I have.

Tell me, what kind of paper

does this school run?

-All the students read it.

-I'll bet they do.

You probably have no idea

what an unusual person you are.

I can see it.

I'm really much older than I look.

These are merely the vestments I don...

...as a concession to our outworn

educational anachronism.

But I know what the artistic soul is like

and how keenly it can suffer.

Did you have many ordeals

before you became a success?

-No, l--

-You can talk to me.

I want you to think of me

not as a newspaperwoman...

...but as a friend.

Well, in that case, I'll tell you.

I did suffer.

When I was 10, my parents

had a double-suicide pact.

They made it.

I was sent to an orphanage.

Some days they didn't beat me.

Then one night I escaped.

I ran away to New York.

-I used to steal.

-What did you steal?

-Beg your pardon?

-What did you steal?

Crusts of bread and things.

One time I stole a valise.

There were paints and paintbrushes inside.

So I began to paint.

Then they got me.

I was sent to a reform school,

but I escaped again.

-Go on.

-Back to New York.

A wealthy society lady saw my work,

fell in love with me...

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