Then, as now, his fine-lined aristocratic face suggested (as his drama coach, Jeff Corey, noted the minute he saw him) “a young Florentine noble-straight out of the Renaissance.” His mouth and nose were strong and straight, his hair a cap of pure gold. At that point, the pleasant young nobody M-G-M tabbed for its big TV bid seemed as sterile as a role of gauze, and just about as exciting. Who else could possibly look as antiseptic as Dick?” The remark is still good today then it was perfect. Kildare, a friend of his, Jack Nicholson, cracked, “It was inevitable. Two years ago, when M-G-M picked Dick to play Dr. This contradictory combination makes him Hollywood’s most puzzling character, yet most formidable, hard-to-reach star. the fear that people won’t like him if they know what he’s really like. the fear that he’ll reveal too much of himself. And lurking even beneath that lies the hidden panic of Dick Chamberlain. But lurking right beneath that mask is also the same iron nerve, disciplined determination, deadly sophistication and puckish flair that allowed him to pull off the bold prank. But it still draws a bead on the blond, bland, 27-year-old TV charmer known today simply as Dick Chamberlain: outwardly, Dick wears the same mild mask of gentlemanly innocence that threw college authorities way off his trail. When that campus scandal broke, George Richard was only another Pomona sophomore chasing his Bachelor of Arts degree. He was known then as George Richard Chamberlain. He was a model student and a perfect gentleman who was generally considered as menacing as a glass of milk. That’s not surprising, but maybe it’s time to tell: The ringleader (a drama club buff sore at Dr, Lyon for disciplining a friend) was the least likely suspect in school. Yet nobody was-because to this day the crime has never been solved. Lyon.Ĭlearly, whatever sassy Joe College committed the crime, he was doomed to be bouncing right out of the school in disgrace. Beneath this blazed an accusing quote from Calvary: “They Know Not What They Do!” “They” obviously referred to the object of its scorn, Pomona’s prexy, Dr. The lurid poster showed a twelve feet long and ten feet high sagehen, Pomona’s hallowed emblem, being bloodily crucified by a snarling lion. Hanging high on ivied Carnegie Hail, an outrageous painting startled students, faculty members and distinguished visitors crowding the campus for the annual Arts Festival. One morning, back in 1954, sedate Pomona College in Claremont, California, suffered a shock.
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