Good Evening, Ladies!
 
By Hyon O'Brien

``Good evening, ladies.'' This is what the silver-haired gentleman said to us with a smile when Jane, my younger daughter, and I stepped out of the elevator in an apartment building on Fifth Ave in Manhattan about eight years ago. We were just leaving her friend's place after dinner. I didn't recognize him right off but Jane knew him. Her friend had told her that some movie stars lived in her apartment building. Jane elbowed me as I was saying to him, ``Same to you also'' walking away from the elevator. ``Did you know who that was?'' ``No.'' ``Paul Newman!'' ``Wow, he is such a gentleman to greet us like that.''

``Oh that polite man!'' was the first thought that came to my mind when I read the sad news that Paul Newman died on the 26th of September, at the age of 83, after a battle with lung cancer.

I don't know why, but I was never much of a fan of his films. However, if hard pressed, I may confess to enjoying ``The Sting,'' the 1973 movie, in which he starred with Robert Redford. Even then, I may have liked it mainly because of Scott Joplin's ragtime music score, which added to the flavor of the movie.

His numerous awards and accomplishments as a star, a director and producer are impressive, as is the sheer fact that his career lasted successfully over five decades, but his much talked about blue eyes never moved me much. I guess it's just me. His great talent is undeniable on the evidence of the great praise poured on him by people in the industry who worked closely with him. Director Ron Shelton gave Newman a high accolade: ``You can put him up on Mount Rushmore, next to Gable, Grant and Bogart.'' (Last time I looked, none of those gentlemen were up on Mount Rushmore, either, but never mind.) Another writer-director, Robert Towne, remarked about Newman, ``He had an utter lack of narcissism. He was never comfortable as part of that generation of brilliantly self-absorbed actors.''

However, I was very much a fan of his philanthropy. In 1982, Newman co-founded a food company, Newman's Own, with A. E. Hotchner (they later related the story in a book, ``Shameless Exploitation in the Pursuit of the Common Good,'' in 2003) and started producing salad dressings, and then expanded to pasta sauces, salsas, wines and other specialty foods. Although it started as something of a lark, the quality of the products, and perhaps the smiling face of Paul Newman on the bottles, made it a great commercial success.

It also probably helped that the company's after-tax profits were all donated to charity, adding a feel-good bonus to the taste-good aspect. As of May 2007, donations from Newman's Own profits amounted to more than $220 million, according to Wikipedia. One of the beneficiaries of this charity over the years has been the ``Hole in the Wall'' summer camps for seriously ill children. The inspiration for the name came from a famous mountain pass in Wyoming where a number of outlaw gangs had their hideouts, and it was featured in the movie ``Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid'' (both of whom, I was surprised to discover, were actual historical personages).

This summer camp concept has expanded over the years and now there are a number of Hole in the Wall Camps in the U.S., the U.K., Ireland, Italy, Hungary, France and Israel serving thousands of children each year, all free of charge. (According to their Web site, almost 120,000 children have participated since 1988 when the first camp was started.) I didn't know about this camp concept, or about Paul Newman's role in it, until some years ago the child of one of my husband's college classmates attended one of the camps while battling leukemia. When someone you know is the direct recipient of charity, it is natural to admire the giver of that blessing. I became Paul Newman's greatest fan ever since.

After Newman's recent death, one newspaper reported his family's wish: They have urged his fans to honor his memory by doing something for others, something that brings people together. Thus we are challenged to emulate in some measure Newman's generosity.

Another endearing thing about him is that despite all the temptations that Hollywood and super-celebrity status bring, he remained married to the same woman, Joanne Woodward, for 50 years. In 1951 Newman entered the Yale School of Drama and in the summer of 1952, without finishing his degree, he left New Haven for NY and soon landed on Broadway in William Inge's ``Picnic.'' On that production, he met Joanne Woodward and the two got married in 1958, a union that became a legendary not just for its staying power but also for its happiness. He seemed quite certain about his moral choice, as can be seen in his answer to an interviewer's question about his well-known fidelity to his wife, ``Why would I bother with hamburgers when I have steak at home?''

The obituaries in newspapers around the world describe Paul Newman as American actor, film director, entrepreneur, auto racing enthusiast and humanitarian. I guess it is forgivable that I like his being a humanitarian most of all. What makes a person great to me is not only what one does with one's talent, but also what one does with what that talent brings. Mr. Newman was a rare person who knew, and who lived, the great lesson that ``to whom much is given, much is required.''

What he said to a reporter deepened my admiration of him, and seems characteristic of the modesty and level-headedness that his life exemplified: ``We are such spendthrifts with our lives, the trick of living is to slip on and off the planet with the least fuss you can muster. I'm not running for sainthood. I just happen to think that in life we need to be a little like the farmer, who puts back into the soil what he takes out.''

Good Bye, Mr. Newman, and rest in peace!

Hyon O' Brien, a former reference librarian in the U.S., has returned to Korea after 32 years of living abroad. She can be reached at hyonobrien@gmail.com.