Who’s Afraid of Richard Burton?

Dick Cavett

NYT

He was sitting in front of his dressing room mirror after a tiring performance of “Camelot,” removing his make-up for the who knows how many thousandth time. Paler, with the greasepaint cleansed from the famous face, he managed to look, simultaneously, handsome, vibrant and worn.

“Richard has been entertaining the idea of doing your show, Mr. Cavett,” a man who appeared to be both valet and companion said.

“And letting the idea entertain him,” the Welshman intoned in that unmistakable voice.

In fact, Richard Burton was still pondering whether to do my show, and it was thought that my visiting him backstage informally might help.

I tried to imagine what fears or hesitations Burton might have about appearing with me. Could he be afraid that the rich voice, those rugged good looks, the manly erotic charm, the hypnotic blue eyes, the articulacy, the fine wit and the ready storehouse of classical and modern literary quotations and allusions were not quite enough to qualify him for sitting next to Cavett? (Did anyone think, just now, that I was describing myself?)

(More here.)