TV
Guide - February 27th, 1982
Pamela
Sue Martin - "Humbug!" She yelled at the Mayor of Los
Angeles
Off
screen, “Dynasty” vamp Pamela Sue Martin is forever fighting for
good causes
A
small crowd is gathered on the lawn across from the 20th Century-Fox
commissary - mostly middle aged men whose sleek dark suits set them
off from the jeaned and T-shirted studio workers. The Mayor of LA
is telling the group about the benefits of a forthcoming condominium
project, and a tall, slim, brown-haired young woman listens from
the sidelines. She makes a terrible face, then cups her hands around
her mouth to cry “Humbug!”
The
crowd seems not to notice, but a couple of graying studio hands
give her big smiles. She is Pamela Sue Martin, the deliciously witchy
Fallon of ABC’s Dynasty, doing what she likes to do best, which
is getting involved in causes, especially hopeless ones. A few days
later, in the studio commissary, she explains:
“This
big rich guy from Denver [Marvin Davis] bought this studio, telling
everybody how much he loves movies. now he’s going to tear it down,
and all those developers and politicians are standing there cheering.
Look at this room,” she says, gesturing about the ancient, brightly
decorated eatery. “The whole history of Hollywood is here. The memories.
Besides, this is the nicest commissary in town and also the nicest
lot. how could anybody tear it down?”
Martin’s
indignation draws attention from nearby diners, not only because
of her vehemence but also because she happens to be wearing a pink
nightgown and robe, her costume for the day’s shooting. Pamela in
a pink nightgown could discuss recipes for tuna casseroles and draw
an impressive audience.
Actually,
a big share of the fox lot was erased years ago to make way for
the massive Century City complex, and there’s no chance her anger
or anyone else’s will save the rest. But people as massively involved
as she is in defending air, earth, water, seals, whales, stray dogs
and old studios get used to setbacks.
Take
the Santa Claus Lane parade, a Hollywood ritual in which actors
spend a long, cold evening atop rickety floats in the hope of prompting
some film, series or cause. This year’s parade found Martin bumping
along on a float with a strange dog in her lap.
“I
hate parades,” she says. “I think they’re demeaning. When I was
18 they stuck me and Edy Williams on a float. I was there to play
‘The Poseidon Adventure.’ No one on the whole line of march knew
who I was, and Edy kept shoving me out of the way so she could be
in all the pictures. I said I’d never do anything so ridiculous
again.”
But
this year a humane group persuaded her to ride beneath a sign urging
people to “Save a Pet from the Pound.” She dutifully climbed aboard,
arriving a whiffing mongrel, and waited for some interviewer to
ask her about saving dogs. The only question during the entire evening
came from TV host Regis Philbin, who shoved a mike in her face and
demanded, “Why are you so mean on Dynasty?” The float moved on before
she could reply. Or throw anything.
Her
most ambitious effort to do good was joining a Greenpeace expedition
to Newfoundland to protest the slaughter of baby seals. “It was
a nightmare. I’ve never been able to forget it.” The group drew
world attention, but the killings continue. her party included Congressman
Leo Ryan of California, who was murdered a year later in Guyana.
Sometimes
it’s her littlest gestures that work out the best. One night she
emerged from a Hollywood restaurant to find a small, black mutt
thrashing about on the sidewalk with a broken leg. Someone was about
to take it to the pound to be destroyed, but she adopted it and
nursed it to health. Now Gonzales accompanies her to the studio
almost every day. Half the crew believes Gonzales is the ugliest
dog alive, and the other half thinks he is not a dog at all. One
recent morning someone painted a broad white stripe down Gonzales’s
back, and he spent a happy day frightening casual visitors.
But
however weighty her causes, Martin carries them lightly. On the
set, she bounces merrily around like someone who never dreamed the
party would be this much fun. Costar John Forsythe says, “Pam has
so much juice, so much joy.”
Linda
Evans notes, “She knows more about the lives of the crew that anybody
else. She just bubbles around. She can’t sit. They can’t even hold
her down in the makeup chair.”
Most
of her lines are supercharged emotionally, and sometimes it’s a
hard transition from Pamela the cheery friend of all living things
to Fallon the wrecker.
One
day she and Forsythe have a long scene in which they discuss Fallon’s
decision on an abortion. Forsythe, the old pro, sits in a chair
explaining his thoughts on the lines, and, as he talks, Martin slowly
kneels in front of him, takes his hand and seems physically to change
from Pamela to Fallon.
One
morning’s shooting is given over to a fiery exchange between Martin
and John James, who plays her husband Jeff, over the possible abortion.
He shouts, she shouts. A crew member mumbles loudly, “It isn’t realistic.
They’re only talking. He should belt her a couple.” As they argue,
James packs his bag and, at the scene’s conclusion, zips it shut
and marches dramatially out of her life. Eventually there is a good
take, but as James leaves, Martin’s throaty laugh follows him. the
bag isn’t quite zipped, and James does his exit dripping clothes
behind him.
James
explains that though scenes with Martin can be double trying, because
“There’s that little glimmer of devilment in the corner of her eye,
and the later the hour, the bigger it gets. It makes her day to
break me up.”
Forsythe
observes, “You know a show is going well when you hear a lot of
laughter.” Things must be going well with Dynasty because it has
shown markedly improved ratings in its second season.
Later
that day Linda Evans and Martin sit side but side, talking numbers.
Evans is a high priestess of numerology and Martin her most faithful
disciple. Between them they relentlessly chart the futures of cast,
crew and even passers-by.
At
the moment Pamela is happy because she is moving into a new house
“and it’s a 9 and Linda says a 9 will be absolutely perfect.” She’s
moving from a 7,” which has been all right. It’s fine for solitude,
but a 9 will be heavenly.”
Her
faith in numerology was born in the first weeks of Dynasty. “I went
to Linda and asked if she would do my chart. She told me things
about my life that no one could possibly have known. I was so moved
. . . .I got Linda to teach me. I studied the books, and when I
meet somebody new, I like to do their numbers.”
To
people like Forsythe, who finds it hard to keep a straight face
when numerology is discussed, Martin offers a defiant, “I’m interested
in all kinds of esoteric sciences. I’ve found there’s a lot of validity
to many of these things.”
Evans,
with or without the charts, has also found Martin “a mass of contradictions.
On one hand, she’s a bubbling free spirit talking to everybody,
and then suddenly she’s very still, very withdrawn.”
Martin
owns a little cabin on a lonely mountainside in Northern California.
Last spring when Dynasty was on vacation, she told friends she was
going there for a few days. She stayed three months, with Gonzales
her only companion. She also backpacks alone. “I’m never afraid
when I’m in the country,” she says.
Martin
has been on her own since she was 18. “I was a model, and then I
got into films and TV. At first I was just doing it to save money
for college, but some new job always kept coming along.” It disturbs
her to realize she is now 29 and there’s still no college.
Despite
her independence, she’s always been close to her family: father,
mother and older sister. Father Tom Martin is a Dixieland drummer
and writes on Dixieland music for jazz publications. Pamela remembers,
“I was raised with music. It seemed like there was always a jam
session in the house.”
Her
career has ranged from the primeness of Nancy Drew to a Playboy
layout. Esther Shapiro, who with husband Richard created Dynasty,
recalls, “When she came to see us, there wasn’t anything in her
career to tell us who she really was. But instead of reeling off
credits, she began talking about whales. Whales! But as she talked,
we saw this was a girl who is used to being around ideas. There
was a saltiness to her.”
She
still turns conversations around to whales or the equivalent and
won’t even appear on talk shows unless she can speak up for some
forlorn creature of land or sea. She brushes off any suggestion
that it is wrong to use TV prominence for advocacy. “It’s a privilege
to be in a position to be heard; and if you can be heard, you should
say something that matters.”
There
is a steady procession of young actors who find excuses to drop
by Stage 8 to play variations of Do You Remember Me? Martin gives
each hundreds of watts of charm, and assures each, “You were so
great when we worked together. you made me laugh like hell. We’ve
got to do it again.” Later she will always confess, “I know him.
I really do. But I just don’t remember his name.”
She’s
had one brief marriage and has no plans for another. not for lack
of admirers. “You always hear that men are so scarce, at least the
kind that care about women, but I meet lots of wonderful ones.”
And
sooner or later they may hear about the beginnings of one of her
most passionate love affairs. “I had this recurring dream, almost
like a nightmare. I’m scuba diving and suddenly this huge whale
comes between me and the surface. Monstrous. He blots out the light.
I should be terrified. But then he comes down and it turns out he’s
a friend. He likes me. The dream has a wonderful, happy ending.”
By
Smart Whale |
