JOSEPH COTTON

You may remember Cotten from that horror of a horror movie called "Hush, Hush, Sweet Charlotte" or one of the other disaster movies and awful TV shows he was forever popping up in during the '70s. But it was his film collaborations with Orson Welles ("Third Man," "Citizen Kane," "The Magnificent Ambersons") and other auteurs for which I shall always admire him.
     By the time I met Cotten in Dallas he was a septuagenarian doing the dinner theater circuit (simply to pay the bills, I suppose). The name of the play that night escapes me, but I do recall that his performance was pleasant, if somewhat stiff. After virtually sleepwalking through every scene, a vapid farce with dialogue continuously punctuated by the scraping of flatware and clinking of glasses generously provided by the audience diners, I climbed on-stage to join the line of little old ladies ooh-ing and aah-ing over him and his co-star wife, the still beautiful Patricia Medina. 
     I took a different tack. Introducing myself and shaking his hand, I referred not to his night's forgettable performance but rather to how much I had enjoyed him in "A Delicate Balance," the recent film adaptation of Edward Albee's play co-starring another famous septuagenarian, Katherine Hepburn. Briefly Cotton's eyes, which had appeared totally lifeless as he greeted each person ahead of me, focused directly on mine. In his soft Southern accent he said, "You know, lad, I remember the very first time I worked with Katie. It was on stage in "The Philadelphia Story" (which I quickly calculated had been 40 years earlier). I thanked him, and as I stepped aside to make room for the next in line I saw Cotten's eyes cloud over once again.