http://www.wellesnet.com/orson-welles-o ... l-prodigy/
Here's another interesting webpage on Welles's mother Beatrice:
http://genforum.genealogy.com/ives/messages/122.html
OW writes about his parents for Vogue Magazine
Re: OW writes about his parents for Vogue Magazine
From Barbra Leaming's Facebook page:
Orson Welles's Father's Day Call.
The phone rang early on Father's Day, but then it almost always rang early. Orson was awake, though not yet out of bed. Half awake, he started to talk.
This was a man most people by now saw as somehow unreal, not a person, as what he called the ubermarionette. But now, on the phone, still drowsy with sleep, he was very real. He was a little boy talking about his father--talking for hour after hour about what his father meant to him. Explaining his father and defining his own fatherhood. Talking about guilt. And crying about the choices a young boy had made. The decisions that can't be unmade and which shape a lifetime.
I have never loved Orson more than that day, never wanted to protect him more. He was a boy all that day, alone. Longing for his father. Desperate to conjure him up again. Desperate to shoulder the guilt that Orson believed would finally make him a man.
Orson Welles loved his father. But on Father's Day, all Orson could think of was that he had failed the one he loved.
Orson Welles's Father's Day Call.
The phone rang early on Father's Day, but then it almost always rang early. Orson was awake, though not yet out of bed. Half awake, he started to talk.
This was a man most people by now saw as somehow unreal, not a person, as what he called the ubermarionette. But now, on the phone, still drowsy with sleep, he was very real. He was a little boy talking about his father--talking for hour after hour about what his father meant to him. Explaining his father and defining his own fatherhood. Talking about guilt. And crying about the choices a young boy had made. The decisions that can't be unmade and which shape a lifetime.
I have never loved Orson more than that day, never wanted to protect him more. He was a boy all that day, alone. Longing for his father. Desperate to conjure him up again. Desperate to shoulder the guilt that Orson believed would finally make him a man.
Orson Welles loved his father. But on Father's Day, all Orson could think of was that he had failed the one he loved.
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