Inger on Katy and Men

Inger was a gifted singer and musician, as seen
here in this photo that accompanied the article.

In a TV-Radio Mirror interview with the cast of The Farmer's Daughter, Inger shared her thoughts on the character she played and the enjoyment among the cast on set. Inger said:

The odd thing is I've learned so much about myself since I started playing Katy. We're so much alike. We've both grown this past year. And, just like Katy, I'm much more relaxed that I've ever been. Perhaps it's the success of the series, but I'm not having fits over my career anymore. I look at it more objectively. I realize there are more important things in this world than acting. Hollywood may be the center of my life at present, but let's face it: It's a dot on the map, considering the world at large.

Another point. My sense of humor has sharpened up since I became Katy. Either I've gotten more "hep" or else it's because of associating with Bill Windom, Cathleen Nesbitt and Peter Kortner, all of whom have keen senses of humor. This is so important in a running series like ours. When things go wrong on the set—and believe me, even the smoothest show has its bad days—we can always find something to laugh about. Suddenly the gloom evaporates. Thank Heaven for that! It must be murder to work with grouchy people you don't like.

I think the feeling of warm friendliness somehow carries over to the viewers. I get loads of letters asking whether Bill and I are really in love, "because it sure looks that way on the screen." Naturally, we're flattered that our acting is so convincing, but we certainly aren't in love. Bill, as a matter of fact, has a lovely wife and three children. He also has many qualities I admire.

Inger also talked about what type of man attracted her. Inger's statements about finding the perfect man to journalists during the 1960's are always interesting to read. We know now that Inger had already found a man named Isaac Jones and was married to him, but that fact was oblivious to all but Inger's close circle at the time. The most revealing part to me is when Inger says, "I honestly believe I could handle both a home life and a career. In a sense, I'm doing that now." Yes, she definitely was and more than "in a sense!"

It's so easy, you know, to get romantic about your leading man. You're both playing people in love with each other, and you have a tendency to start living the part. It happened to me in my first years in Hollywood. The men were single, unattached and attractive, in all but two cases, and these two might as well have been bachelors for all the loyalty they showed their wives. Both were later on caught up in scandals, and I now realize how lucky I was not to take them seriously.

I like the more mature type of man, and I draw no line with respect to age. I was married once before—to a Broadway agent Tony Soglio—but it lasted on six months. I was only nineteen at the time and had very immature expectations. I realize now that no man could have lived up to my standards at that time. It's taken me ten years to grow up as a woman. I feel sure now that I'm at last ready for marriage. I honestly believe I could handle both a home life and a career. In a sense, I'm doing that now.

I'd like to feel secure and confident that I was joining my life to the right man's. The right man? Well, he'll have to have these two qualities that are a must for me. They are a good sense of humor and the ability to respect me as a person and win my respect, at the same time.

Source:

Emmons, Beatrice. Inger Stevens: The Man Who Stopped My Wedding." TV-Radio Mirror. January 1965

Letters from Sweden: Correspondence from Inger for TV Guide

TV Guide featured correspondence between writer and friend Robert de Roos and Inger Stevens that was exchanged during her trip to Sweden, where she filmed Inger Stevens in Sweden in 1964. Whether she's writing about a pesky mouse, sexy Max von Sydow, total exhaustion, camera mishaps or making quips about heaven and hell, Inger's letters are full of wit, honesty and amusement about her life and the world around her. I've transcribed them below and included photos from the article in this post.

September 13-16

Dear Bob (I mean Dear Pen Pal):

It will seem ridiculous to you, but this is the first free moment I have had once I arrived a week ago. I am writing this sitting under a hair drier so's not to waste precious time. We are leaving for the country in an hour and will be gone three days. This morning, after Leslie Blanchard washed my hair, we turned around only to find that the hair drier had disappeared from its customary place. Quite a feat when you consider the size and weight of a professional hair drier. It was 10 Sunday morning. Everything was closed, of course. Phone calls back and forth and finally the manager broke into the hotel beauty shop to get us a drier. We are taking it along with us to the country. Doesn't every girl travel with a professional hair drier when she goes scampering in the Nordic woods?

After traveling in an airplane for 16 hours, one does get a little balmy, particularly when you lose an eight-hour day some place—then step off the plane to face a press conference in Swedish. I felt a little funny about it, too. After being in America for so long and then coming over to do a special on Sweden—they could have resented that, I think, but they didn't.

I cried a little when I saw my mother. Then all the photographers wanted me to cry for them. How do you cry when you have already finished crying? Then I was led out a door and into a big black limousine. It was dark and I could have been any place in the world—Chicago or New York or London. I felt in limbo—not anywhere. Only the next day, when Stockholm showed itself, did I realize where I was.

My family thinks we are filming the family tree, and keeps coming up with "wonderful" ideas for the special. After I had three hours' sleep the first night, the family, the press and radio and television people all started converging on me—an army of people with various goals—re: me. Not to mention the director, the producer, the writer and the publicity man. So my day of rest for readjustment after the flight never happened. It won't happen until I get back to the U.S., I guess.

So far my conversations have been with Prime Minister Tag Erlander, Mr. Erik Boheman, former Ambassador to the U.S. and, for intellectual variety, Ingemar Johansson, the boxer. The men on the crew all speak different languages, none of them English, which hampers Don Taylor, our director, somewhat because he speaks only English. I'm not helping because I speak only Swedish now.

Life after work is rather normal—shove food down, fall exhausted into bed, get up and sit in the living room since you can't get to sleep and boom!—there's a mouse behind the wastebasket. Ring the desk. Little boy comes and by that time the mouse has disappeared. Boy gives me a strange look. Ten minutes later spider appears. Ring desk again. Boy with can of spray. Spider loved the spray. He was back again last night and the night before. So was the mouse. 

Sincerely, 

Inger Stevens

 

When Bob writes back that the only thing he knows of Sweden is the story of the man who was fined for hitting his wife with an eel, Inger responds:

Tuesday '64 (I think)

Dear Bob:

That was a completely transistorized electric eel, A.C./D.C. I think the man was lucky to get off with a $5 fine. 

The mouse is back. Or rather still here. Don Taylor and some of the other men were here last night discussing the dailies. Everything normal, except that we carried on our discussion while crawling around the room on our hands and knees looking for that blasted mouse.

Most things that can go wrong have gone wrong, including the worst offense in "filmdom"—no film in the camera. What made it worse was that the union said the crew had to break for dinner just then and Max von Sydow...

Well, Max von Sydow. As you know, he is the finest actor alive today. He's appeared in most of Bergman's pictures and he is playing Jesus in "The Greatest Story Ever Told." I was delegated to ask him to appear in this special. We met at Riche restaurant and I was nervous as could be. That was before he came in. When he came in he made me very nervous—is it correct to say "nervouser"? I was wearing my "intellectual" dress but even that didn't help. I blushed and almost fainted.

Von Sydow is that kind of man, a Prince Charming, but nothing put on. He is entirely simple, gentle and direct and interested in you. There is a wonderful purity to him. He's terribly sexy, too. He looks so deeply into your inner self that what is deep inside you comes surging up—and that's almost too much to handle.

He agreed to visit the Drottningholm Theater with me for the show. And, after working a long, long day, the crew told us they had missed the last three shots because there was no film in the camera! Then the crew went to dinner and I had to persuade von Sydow to come back after his dinner and shoot for three more hours. He was wonderful about it.

The Drottningholm Theater was built in 1766 and they still have performances there. All the stage machinery, made of wood, is still in working order. They have a trap door for the descent into hell and another contraption that lifts you up into heaven. So Max and I went to hell together. It was my first time and his also. The professor who is in charge of the theater kept insisting that I should go to heaven, but we didn't have time. After going to hell with Max von Sydow, it might have been an anticlimax anyway.

Best Regards,

Inger

 An envious Bob writes back that he's sending some mouse poison to Sweden—not for the mouse, but for the Prince Charming Max von Sydow.

September 28

Dear Bob:

How do you spell hectic? I didn't tell you this: While I was walking with Max von Sydow at the old theater the other day, I looked up and saw a young man with two children. He was pushing a baby carriage. "Hey!" I hollered and jumped over a hedge and grabbed him. It was my brother. I've been so busy I haven't had time to see him. He was just on his way to the market and didn't know I was anywhere around. Whenever my family wants to see me, they wander around until they see the lights and they know that's where I am. 

The other day we were shooting at one of the big squares and a woman came up and said, "Hello, Inger." I didn't know her, of course. She turned out to be a lady who used to be my baby sitter—that is, she sat with me when I was a baby. Another time we were shooting on the street and I heard, out of the blue, "Hey, it's the farmer's daughter—hot diggety dog." A couple of American kids.

The script called for me to ride a bicycle. Luckily I know how to ride—nobody asked me when the script was being written! I started out in high heels and it is not easy to ride a bike in high heels. Then I changed to wooden shoes—the kind I wore as a girl. It is not easy to ride a bicycle in wooden shoes. The guy driving the camera truck didn't know what he was doing and I had to pedal like the very devil and keep up with him and then slow down and smile and contemplate nature and then pump like crazy to catch up again. This went on for four days.

The weather was terrible but it finally cleared and we all went up to the top of the mountain, where the view is superb. We started shooting at the exact spot where Bergman filmed the rape scene in "Virgin Spring." Bad spirits must still be there because the minute we started, it began to hail.

We've worked seven days a week ever since I got to Sweden and I've averaged about four hours' sleep. I had planned to go to Paris and to Moscow—but there's just no time left.

One day, an elderly couple came out to greet me in the forest. They didn't know me. They just thought I should be welcomed. Wasn't that nice? Later they gave me presents—a hand-woven mat and a pillow cover. And another man gave me a wooden flute he had made the night before. I'll play it for you when I get back.

You and your mouse poison. Baaaah.

Your friend and Max von You-know-who's,

Inger

All of that stress and exhaustion caught up to Inger. She came down with pneumonia once she landed in Hollywood. And, as she always did, Inger got right back to work on The Farmer's Daughter.

Source:

"Inger Stevens in Sweden." TV Guide. January 30, 1965.

Inger on Katy's wedding, painting and the early part of her career

 

In 1965, Inger talked with Joan Barthel about a variety of topics. I cherish reading about Inger and her life from the lady herself. 

On Katy and Glen's wedding on The Farmer's Daughter:

The audience has been writing in—they can't stand it any longer. The audience wants the marriage to happen. At least, the women do. I'm not so sure about the men. Anyway, we're not doing Orphan Annie, where we all stay the same for 50 years. We're both fairly intelligent people in the series, and I don't think two intelligent people could continue playing this game much longer. We'll have a chance now to show that marriage can be fun, that people can be lovers though married.

On working on a television show:

Five years is a lot out of your life. I live my whole life on television. The hours are long—5 in the morning to 8:30 at night, five days a week—and there's not much time to do anything except learn your lines and keep healthy. At first I thought a series would be one big prison, but it hasn't been, and I haven't regretted it at all.

On working on Broadway:

Every time I've opened in a Broadway play, I've had to throw up.

On people:

When I really dislike somebody, I try to find something nice about them—and generally I can't find anything.

On making art:

Working with your hands is a very satisfying thing—you forget about a lot of things that are running about in your mind. On weekends I like to paint. I like to paint faces, and people with a lot of movement. I painted a still life once and I hated it.

On overcoming early frustrations in her career:

You're so afraid to say you're wrong, to say you don't know. At a certain point in my life I was very withdrawn, and there is always at time in your career when you lose your perspective. But I think I benefited much from that unhappy period in my life. I can laugh at myself now. I can cry, too, but I laugh more often.

On her passion for working with kids who were developmentally delayed:

The only thing I can be sure I'll be doing five years from now...

Source: 

Barthel, Joan. "A Sweetie from Sweden." The New York Times. July 25, 1965.

The Dick Powell Theatre: Price of Tomatoes (1962)

Inger was nominated for an Emmy (and completely deserved to take it home) and her costar Peter Falk won one for their performances in the "Price of Tomatoes¨ episode of The Dick Powell Theatre. This moving story in the long-running anthology show aired on January 16, 1962.

Someone has been kind enough to share the full episode on Youtube for us to enjoy! There are plot spoilers in my summary below so you may want to take 50 minutes and watch it if you haven't seen this one. You won't regret it. I decided to watch it again earlier this week and ended up watching it 2 days in a row. Peter and Inger inhabit the roles completely in this poignant story about two strangers whose lives unexpectedly intersect and impact one another. 

You'll notice that in Dick Powell's introduction he refers to Peter Falk as being a "one-man hurricane" and praises him for being nominated for both an Academy Award and an Emmy the previous year, yet only refers to Inger as ¨the very lovely Miss Inger Stevens.¨ Now, I absolutely agree with Dick's assessment of the skilled Peter Falk and certainly concur on Inger being very lovely, but I find it interesting that Inger's talents go unmentioned and underpraised—both then and now. After all, in the few years leading up to this performance alone, Inger had a string of powerful starring roles in remarkable television productions. Her two performances in The Twilight Zone were enough to warrant a mention of her talent in his introduction, not to mention her work in Route 66 and Playhouse 90, among others. 

If the embedded video below does not play, you can view the episode by clicking here.

Summary

Aristede Fresco (Peter Falk) is an independent trucker who, along with his dad, owns a haul truck. He and his father have pooled their money together and are concerned about their investments. They are working class and Fresco has a wife and 4 children to feed. When he bets another trucker that he can get a load of tomatoes to Cincinnati first, Fresco sets off on the drive of his life. If the tomatoes do not get to Cincinnati safely and quickly, Fresco's livelihood and independence are threatened.

Fresco enounters many setbacks during his journey. When he stops at a gas station, a pregnant woman Anna Beza (Inger Stevens) hops into the passenger seat. She pleads with him to take her as far as her sister's home. Fresco is anxious and annoyed, but takes pity on this lonely, desperate woman and agrees. He warns her that he's on an important mission and doesn't have time to deal with her but that he will drop her off at the first bus station,where he will buy her a ticket to San Francisco.

As they drive, we learn that Fresco is a hardworking family man. He has a photo of his wife and children hanging from the rearview mirror and speaks of them with care. Anna, in Inger's deft use of accents, reveals that she is a Romanian widow. 

Along the route, another trucker warns Fresco that there's a road block up ahead and immigration officers are searching for a woman who crossed the Mexican border into America illegally. It's obvious that Anna is this woman, but Fresco continues to drive her to the bus station after she pleads with him to let her baby be born in America.  Fresco continues to be grouchy and speak gruffly to Anna (saying that because of her he will "spend my life eating those lousy tomatoes!") but his compassion is evident when he refuses to leave her alone overnight at the bus station. 

More setbacks appear. They run off the road and the truck's tire gets stuck, forcing Fresco to spend precious time wrapping it in chains to get it out. Anna's experiencing painful contractions and Fresco hands her a watch to time them. Still anxious, he barks at her when she compliments his family.

Anna (looking at a family photo): You have a fine family.

Fresco: Yeah?  Well, don't worry about 'em cause they're gonna starve.

A patrol officer investigates when he sees Fresco working on the tire, but Anna is clever enough to hide. By this point, Fresco is close to giving up on this haul completely. 

Anna: Why do you speak like that?

Fresco: Like what?

Anna: Like a man so angry with God.

Fresco: Look, lady...we’re stuck in it, we’re never gonna get out of it!

Anna: You’re like a child...there is no hope, always the end of the road.

Fresco: Oh, what are you, some kind of big expert or something? 

Anna: For hope, yes. Every day of my life I make a miracle. And to be here now, even this place, a miracle. 

Fresco: Well, why don't you pass another miracle and get us outta this place?

Once they’re back on the road, they laugh and make light of the situation, enjoying one another's company. Fresco takes her to a doctor who turns out to be a fraud. I laughed aloud at Fresco's quick retort when the doctor asks if they are believers. Fresco responds: 

Look, doc, I believe in tomatoes. She believes in American babies. That's it!

As they drive on, Anna reveals why she's an expert on hope and miracles. She has survived war, her parents' deaths, multiple escapes to multiple countries, her husband's illness and death. This woman has had the weight of the world on top of her shoulders her entire life. She speaks of how she's spent her life waiting to get to America. She will do anything to make sure her child is born in America and not have to face the trials she's endured.

They have to cross a dangerous bridge in disrepair before finally reaching a hospital, where he learns her name for the first time as she's admitted. After hearing her story, Fresco had sworn:

You're gonna have your baby in America. In a hospital. That's my promise!

Despite his eagerness to reach his final destination and deliver the tomatoes on time, Fresco cannot bear to leave Anna alone at the hospital. At the hospital, the nurse asks if he is the father and he replies that he's not even a friend, but it's obvious to us that he's become much more. These two may be strangers together for only a brief journey, but their meaningful connection will transcend their future separation. 

She asks him to see her son before he leaves. As he gets to the door, Anna asks Fresco what his name is. He tells her as he walks out, hurrying to deliver his load. Anna looks down at her baby and we know that she's planning to name her baby Fresco.

Fresco's hope of being the first to deliver the tomatoes is all but dashed but he gives it one last push. As he nears his destination he drives past his competitor, stuck on the side of the road, and realizes he's done it! He's the first to deliver tomatoes and his money and business are secure.

Armstrong Circle Theater: The Contender (1954)

Boxer Jimmy Polo (Paul Newman) is on top of the world. He's a celebrated boxer at the top of his sport, has a happy home life with his supportive wife Bess (Inger Stevens) and an adoring son Jackie (Dickie Belton). Then one day he runs into a former boxer and begins to question his whole outlook on the career he has chosen.

Armstrong Circle Theatre presented the episode "The Contender"on November 30, 1954 on NBC. Directed by Marc Daniels and written by Edmund Morris, the teleplay included actors Paul Newman, Inger Stevens, Frank McHugh, and Nehemiah Persoff. Armstrong Circle Theatre was a dramatic anthology that ran from 1950 to 1963, eventually switching from the NBC network to CBS network.

Luckily for us, "The Contender" has survived when many other 1950's television episodes have been lost and/or destroyed over the years. It's readily available for us to watch, as well, on Youtube (here) and on the Internet Archive (here).

Inger was just 20 years old and had only been seen in commercials and one other show ("Thunder of Silence" on Goodyear Playhouse on November 21, 1954) before "The Contender" aired. Even in this early role, however, Inger is already displaying the qualities of her later, more seasoned performances. She was a natural from day one.

In the episode, Paul Newman's character Jimmy Polo meets former boxer Jeff Gardell (Nehemiah Persoff) on the street selling handkerchiefs. Jimmy's excited to see Jeff, a former champion and hero of Jimmy's, but quickly realizes that Jeff is nothing like his former self. Jeff clearly has brain injuries from years of taking hits to the head. Jimmy is horrified to discover that Jeff's memory is gone, his language limited and his strength nonexistent. 

Jimmy's status and ego have been on the rise for some time. He's even given some bold statements in interviews that he predicts he will win and that he doesn't plan on listening to his manager, only to his own instincts. Jimmy's manager and trainer are upset and troubled by Jimmy's statements to the press but when they confront him, Jimmy has just met Jeff and wants out of boxing completely.

At home, Jimmy's wife Bess (Inger Stevens) is proudly admiring the clippings in her scrapbook on Jimmy's career. She is excited about the larger home they have plans to move into soon and is clearly in love with her husband. Their son Jackie (Dickie Belton) wants to be just like his dad. When Jimmy comes home irritated and ready to get out of the profession, Bess is stunned. She cannot believe that her husband would give up a career he has always enjoyed and is skilled at and jeopardize their future in the process. Jimmy explains the feeling of being a boxer, that he's been "trained to kill" and only ends up with a beaten, scarred body. He tells Bess that she has no idea what it's like to "taste your own blood." After seeing the former boxer Jeff on the street, Jimmy says:

Now I look around, I see what it adds up to. Number 1 contender today, number 1 bartender tomorrow, if you're lucky...if you're lucky!

It is not until Bess visits backstage at a boxing event that she understands what Jimmy means. Bess is horrified to see trainers and managers disregard the feelings of the battle-worn boxers. A boxer is bruised and bloodied and the men around him treat him like a fighting robot, not like a human. Inger represents this new discovery of Bess's perfectly in the visible changes in her face as she watches helplessly.

Bess is on Jimmy's side but asks him to box just one more night so that his fans, manager, trainer and son are not let down. She wants him to face a final match with courage, not disappearing from the profession and leaving a lot of people in the lurch.

Paul Newman, a favorite of mine, already displays the fine qualities of a man torn between being true to himself and following rules that others expect of him. We would see him in roles with similar character dilemmas in films for years to come. But when Paul filmed this, he, too, had not been featured in a film yet. That moment would come a month later when The Silver Chalice would arrive in theaters across the country. Interestingly, Paul Newman was also with Inger in "Thunder of Silence" so audiences had the chance to see Paul and Inger paired on the small screen two weeks in a row! 

"Thunder of Silence" also still exists! Although I don't believe the full episode is online, there is a clip on Youtube (here).

Inger on Fashion

In 1963, during the first season of The Farmer's Daughter, reporter Lydia Lane interviewed Inger about fashion. Inger had suggested that Katy's wardrobe be limited to a budget of $250 so that she looked realistic. Inger spoke of that decision and her fashion sense and rules in general. During her life, Inger talked about living simply and frugally quite a lot and took pride in finding quality, long-lasting items for a good price. She was skilled at accentuating her beauty while building up her savings account. Inger always looked both completely on trend and timeless. What follows are the words Inger said to Lydia Lane:

It was a challenge to plan a fall wardrobe on $250. It had to include everything—shoes, dresses, coats and accessories. Along with economy, I had to be sure what I had chosen would be becoming and photograph well. The whole idea was my own, but I felt I would strike a level of reality if my wardrobe was confined to the limited salary of the heroine of the story.

When I was first starting out in my career, I found that the most economical way to dress well was to find a good dressmaker because you don't often find good fabrics in inexpensive, ready-made clothes. Although they are cleverly designed, you can't expect them to hold their shape.

I decided on blouses and skirts as my basic outfits. You can make a few things look different by changing them around or sometimes wearing them with a vest. I chose one dark dress that was simple enough to serve double duty for Sundays, luncheon dates or for evening wear. I had one raincoat and a double-duty cloth coat. I limited by colors so I could use the same shoes and bag for everything. I didn't try to economize on these accessories because it proves more expensive in the long run to use cheap leather goods. 

You have to be methodical about dressing yourself. The people who are not never look well dressed. They lack harmony in their ensemble. There are a few basic rules that can't be ignored. The foundation of a dress depends on fit and fabric. Everything else is secondary—color, design and trimming. In order for me to feel and look well in a dress I must be comfortable and it must be appropriate for the occasion. I like freedom of movement.

I don't like to see clothes too informal after dark or too dressy early in the day. That is why, if you can afford only one good dress, you should get one that you can change accessories for day or evening wear.

I am lucky because ever since I can remember I have had a flair for knowing what was right for me. If you don't have confidence in your taste, it can be learned through trial and error, although that can be expensive. Reading fashion magazines, attending fashion shows, looking through pattern books are some of the ways to learn the trends in current styles.

Sources:

All photos on this post are scans of originals from my collection.

Lane, Lydia. "Inger Stevens Learns How to Plan Wardrobe without Great Expense." The South Bend Tribune. October 20, 1963.

From The Farmer's Daughter to The Borgia Stick

Inger Stevens and Don Murray have a laugh with director David Lowell Rich
on the set of The Borgia Stick. Source: Scan from my collection.

While filming The Borgia Stick for NBC in New York in fall of 1966, Inger was interviewed. The Borgia Stick was unique in that it would be shown on television first then be released to theaters across the country. Inger, always so well-spoken in interviews, commented:

It is one of 11 such movies being filmed by Universal. Don Murray, Barry Nelson and Fritz Weaver are the male leads in it. It can best be described succinctly as a super-cool melodrama. We're on a four-week schedule but it may run to five, depending upon the weather. We'll shoot indoors for about nine days at a studio on Manhattan's west side, and will go on location around the city the rest of the time. The film, I understand, is budgeted at close to one million dollars.

Inger Stevens and Don Murray in The Borgia Stick. Source: scan from my collection.

When Inger was asked if this budget was too low and the filming schedule too short, she replied:

Not at all. It isn't when you have everything highly organized. I just finished working on a major film, The Long Ride Home [my note: this film also goes by the title A Time for Killing.] which was shot in eight weeks in the Arizona desert. That's just about three and a half weeks longer than we'll spend on The Borgia Stick. A good performer doesn't think or worry about a short schedule. He strives for quality whatever its length may be.

First, Inger responded seriously and then she laughed as she delivered the second sentence:

I always find the characters I play interesting to me. I also always find that they become more interesting in relation to how badly you need the money you will receive for playing them.

Inger had recently ended her run as Katy Holstrum when The Farmer's Daughter series ended in the spring of 1966. Inger adjusted well to the change in routine commenting:

I like doing movies presently because the roles are dramatic ones. It is the type of material with which I was involved before taking on the comedy role of Katy on tv. Only by varying your roles can you learn more and more about your craft and sharpen your skills.

Luckily for us The Borgia Stick, which is a film I find to be cleverly written, full of action and perfectly cast, is available to watch on Youtube! It really is one of my favorite films to watch often. If the embedded video does not play, click here.

Source:

"This Farmer's Daughter is Pretty Bright." The Tipton Daily Tribune. October 14, 1966.