As Lizzie told Ronald Haver in 1991, “It’s every actor’s dream to bring originality and part of what you are to every part you play, if you can, or else delve deeply into all sorts of research.” In more directly connecting the dots between playing Samantha, the sensitive issue of age, and maintaining a balance of priorities between home and career, Elizabeth offered a unique perspective to TV Radio Mirror in June 1965:
“I’m very much like Samantha in some respects,” she said, but in one particular way, “I can never be like her. Samantha, being a witch, can remain young, beautiful and charming, indefinitely. I’m only a woman and can hold on to my attractions for a limited period of time. Nothing is sadder to me than to see a woman who rolled along on her sex appeal when she was in her twenties suddenly wake up to the fact that she has reached forty. The beauty and cuteness that were once thought so attractive have gone, and it is a revolting sight to see a fortyish female trying to be a sex kitten. This is why I am trying to base my own life on more substantial and longer-lasting qualities; a home, a loving husband, fine children, longer-lasting things. A happy home is as valuable to you at fifty as it was in your twenties. And to be loved and admired by a husband and children, whom you love and admire in return, grows better as time wears on. It’s a much better investment in happiness than playing the social butterfly …”
She didn’t define herself as an ambitious career woman. She thoroughly enjoyed acting, but not to the degree where it became a compulsion that dominated her life. She didn’t have to work to be content, but if she found a part that fascinated her, one that she perceived as entertaining or significant, then she was happy going to work. This was reportedly one of the reasons why she never signed a long-term contract before agreeing to do Bewitched; she envisioned playing Samantha as a challenge and signed on in a heartbeat.
She didn’t always agree with her agents, who often urged her to take large roles that she classified in June 1965 as too “showy.” Such parts were rejected if she sensed “something false to myself in them.” At which point, she’d agree to take on more modest characterizations.
By the time she settled in as Samantha, Elizabeth sought to at least temporarily distance herself from nonconformist characters. “I’m not comfortable in such parts. But give me a normal young woman to do, and I’ll play it for all I’m worth.”
Strangely, the twitch-witch Samantha was one of her most “normal” roles. Others, like the prostitute Rusty Heller from The Untouchables or axmurderess Lizzie Borden certainly cannot be classified as normal, at least not within the “likability” mode of America’s mainstream. But somehow, as she did with Samantha, Lizzie’s talent so captivated her audience that she allowed them to identify with even the most unlikable characters, mostly because her performance was likable.
When she played characters like the compassionate, but stubborn pale-ontologist Dr. Diana Firestone in 1990’s Face to Face, as with Samantha, both the character and the performance were likable. In such instances, as with the plight of wildlife, Lizzie somehow utilized that combination for a good cause, off-screen, just as she had allowed Samantha’s struggle for acceptance in the mortal world to represent the quest for equality among all people in the real world.
On January 24, 1990, Lizzie appeared on CBS This Morning to promote Hallmark Hall of Fame’s Face to Face TV-movie. At first, Morning host Kathleen Kennedy asked her to talk about the movie, which was shot on location in Kenya, Africa. When Kennedy then wondered if Lizzie learned anything while working on the movie, Elizabeth went on to speak in support of wildlife conservation on the resplendent African continent. She had always wanted to travel to Africa, performing in Face to Face provided the ideal opportunity for her to do so, and she was happy to get paid for it in the process. She also expressed how pleased she was to be working for Hallmark, how the entire journey to Africa was a “great wonderful” educational experience.
However, she added, “Not to be morbid, but we better get pretty interested very fast in the conditions there about the poaching. It has gotten so outrageously out of hand. And it’s scary to think that if it keeps up, Africa just may not be there as we know it. It is Eden is what it is, and it should be left that way.”
Or as she concluded in 1989, in general, “There are certainly a lot more important things to care about in the world besides acting.”
According to Sally Kemp, her childhood friend and former classmate at the New York American Academy of Dramatic Arts, “Elizabeth really wasn’t that driven to act. I may be wrong and she may have just played it cool, but she was more interested in living. She wanted to be alive. She cared about things.”
As previously discussed, Lizzie’s involvement with the 1984 CBS-TV movie, Second Sight: A Love Story, proved to be an emotionally draining experience for her, mostly because, in real life, she adopted the seeing-eye dog used in the film. A closer inspection of Second uncovers further insight into Lizzie own life-affirming perspective:
The visually impaired Alaxandra (Lizzie) discovers life’s boundless possibilities with the assistance of Emma, her seeing-eye dog. After she’s assaulted by a burglar and realizes she can’t rely just on herself anymore, Alaxandra reluctantly teams with Emma and, for the first time since being blinded as a teen, comes to trust another soul, this time, an animal; although in more time, she accepts the love of a good man (portrayed by Barry Newman).
For Lizzie, it was a happy ending to a project she had wrestled with for two years. “We went through three writers before getting it right,” she told TV Week magazine at the time. What concerned her most was that Alaxandra needed to be authentic:
The tendency in movies was to make the visually impaired “so saintly and adorable that you could hardly stand it,” Lizzie said. She objected to the way the character was initially written in the first few drafts of the script, but was later pleased when the writers gave Alaxandra flaws. “Now she has a real edge and is quite imperfect,” Elizabeth decided.
By the time Second Sight aired, she was a veteran of countless stage and screen performances, but copped to the challenges of playing a visually impaired character. She couldn’t work out the non-focusing since she had “a tendency to look at people a lot.” Even when she was a child, her mom scolded her for staring at other people, which reconfirms her parents’ sometimes stern insistence on proper social graces.
However, her research and preparation in playing Alaxandra was extraordinary. She blindfolded herself at home and conferred with sightless people and their instructors. When she was “in the dark,” she became frustrated and disoriented even when certain of her territory. “To tell the truth,” she admitted, “I had this enormous desire to peek out from the blindfolds.”
Emily Wickham, a teacher of the blind, served as consultant on Sight and instructed Lizzie on the proper use of a cane. “You just don’t tap anywhere and get by,” Lizzie revealed at the time. “You always have to have a border. A person can’t just go freewheeling down the street like in a swashbuckling movie.”
In further research for the film, she discovered that the majority of those who are visually impaired desire more independence and less assistance from others. She found that many such individuals are self-sufficient and able to cope. They have everything laid out at home and labeled. They know where their clothing is; their colors are even categorized. They know what is in the refrigerator and in their closets, and the location of the furniture.
From her perspective, the visually impaired had already conquered their handicaps, but the moment someone with the best of intentions even offers assistance, they lose ground. “To a blind person,” she said, “this is the most annoying thing possible. The last thing they want to feel is helpless.”
According to Christian Beltram, a life-long fan of Lizzie’s who is visually impaired, a decade or so after she completed work on Sight, she donated her time to Learning Ally (formerly named the Recording for the Blind and Dyslexic Foundation or RFB&D), a nonprofit organization which record
s educational books on audio for the disabled. This association in particular “deeply mourned her passing,” as she had volunteered throughout the last year of her life, recording a book of children’s verse, When We Were Very Young, along with several radio and television public service announcements. One televised public service announcement even involved her reprisal of the famous nose wriggle, which she had not performed on camera since appearing in a series of Japanese TV commercials that were only broadcast in Japan, and certainly not since filming her final Bewitched episode in the spring of 1972.
Her efforts generated a great deal of excitement and national interest for Learning Ally, which led her to enthusiastically agree to be the honorary chairperson for the organization’s third annual Record-A-Thon, which transpired on June 3, 1995 in Los Angeles. “She generously lent her name to all of our letters of appeal for the event and was planning to be one of our celebrity readers for the days,” said Don Haderlein, who then served as studio director and media coordinator for Learning Ally’s Los Angeles branch. “Tragically, a month later she was diagnosed with the cancer that took her life.”
With the modern-day onset of the Internet and social networking, and as with many retro pop culture icons, Lizzie’s online fan base has increased significantly, documenting just how popular she remains.
New Yorker Kathy Perillo has been blind since birth. She has also been a huge fan of Lizzie’s and Bewitched since the show’s debut. She was just ten years old when she first heard Elizabeth in 1964. “I just loved her voice and her acting ability,” Perillo says, “… the way she spoke to Darrin and in different scenes with her mother (Endora).”
Perillo’s mother and relatives read her magazine articles about Elizabeth. “And I got to find out more about her life,” she recalls. “I just loved her personality and the way she would talk and say, “Well!” I [had] never heard such a beautiful voice. Then I came to understand that she was so beautiful and attractive. She also had a great personality. Very charming.”
And Perillo should know. She met Elizabeth a few times in person over the years. She explains the events leading up to what became very special moments in her life:
My family and I were planning a trip to California, around 1969. And I said to my Mom, “You know, I’d really love to meet Elizabeth Montgomery, if it’s possible.” So we found out that her father was then the President of Lincoln Center, here in New York. So we said, “Let’s start locally.” So we called Lincoln Center. We got to speak to his secretary and we told her the situation, that I was a blind fan of his daughter and we were planning a trip and could we possibly meet her in July. She said, “Okay, I’ll send a letter off to her secretary’s office and we’ll see if we could arrange it.”
On May 12, we then received a letter from Elizabeth Montgomery’s secretary saying it wouldn’t be possible [to meet her] because she was having a baby, and that she’d be away somewhere resting. So I was disappointed. Anyway, we [arrived in California] in July, and me being the persistent person that I was, I said to my Dad, “C’mon, can’t we please rent a car and go there? We have her address and just drive up and see if anyone’s there? If anyone can give us any information?”
So we arrived there, went right up to her house, and rang her bell. They didn’t have any security or anything. She had like twenty steps, I believe. And her governess came out, with Elizabeth’s two little sons and said, “She’s not home, but let me get Mr. Asher for you.”
So, shortly thereafter, the governess returned to the door with Bill Asher alongside her. He said it was so nice to meet us, and that he would try and arrange a meeting for us the next day if we would tell him our hotel and he would call us that evening.
So we were staying at the Ambassador Hotel at the time on Wilshire Blvd. And he said, “I’ll call you around 6:30 tonight and tell you what time to call tomorrow.” It got to be after 6:30. It was like 7:15 and I said, “Oh, no … maybe he didn’t want to make us feel bad. Maybe she wasn’t able to meet us!”
All of a sudden, the phone rang. I almost died. And I remember all of this, every detail like it was yesterday, when in fact it was over forty years ago.
Anyway, my Mom answered and spoke to him and he said for us to come by, 1:30 the next day, and we did.
We finally met her, on July 16, 1969, the day the astronauts took off for the moon. She talked about how she had gotten up early that morning to see the take-off and she was so cordial and friendly. And Bill was there again, too. He was on his way to a meeting, and they allowed us to take pictures of them and us together. Liz gave me a straw handbag, which had a three-dimensional horse on the front of it that I could feel. It’s something I’ll always treasure. She then went on to talk about how she loved horses and how she always went to the race track; how she enjoyed horseback riding. She talked about her dogs and cats.
I had also given her a scrapbook of some articles that I put together, and she appreciated that. But she said they always got her age wrong, that she was born in 1936 and not 1933.
Right before we left she gave us her phone number and I did call her that year to wish her a Merry Christmas. Bill Asher answered the phone, and then put her on the line. She was very sweet and wished me and my parents a happy holiday.
Then later in 1989, when Lizzie did Love Letters on Broadway with Robert Foxworth in New York, my parents went backstage to meet her and she hugged us all, me, and my friends Linda and Paulette.
Paulette had a guide dog and Elizabeth bent down and hugged the dog and said that she had the dog from Second Sight. She raised it after the movie, and kept it as her own.
I said, “Remember me? I met you when I was fourteen!”
“Oh, yes! I wish we were ‘all’ fourteen!” she said. She had beautiful perfume on. I remember that and when she hugged me and everything, but he [Foxworth] didn’t come to the door. I don’t think he would have been as gracious. We really never met him. But Mr. Asher certainly was gracious.
I met him again in 2008, when I attended the Bewitched Fan Club at one of the conventions in Burbank. They had a tribute to Bill Asher and they asked me to speak and pose [for photographs] and then I got to sit next to him, and he had his arm around me and he kissed my hand. He was still gracious then, you know, even though he was in a wheelchair and everything.
I thanked him and said, “You made my dream come true. If it wasn’t for you, I never would have been able to meet Elizabeth!”
Vince Staskel, born with cerebral palsy, is another of Lizzie’s fans. Today, he is the principal and executive producer of VPS MediAbility Productions in Poughkeepsie, New York, which is currently producing radio shows for Able Pathways (formally Disabled Radio). He is also promoting a stable of six authors with disabilities and assisting in the development of the “This Is Life” radio show on KFWB in Los Angeles.
Vince also serves on the board of directors for The Classic TV Preservation Society, a nonprofit organization that seeks to close the gap between popular culture and education.
A television fan his entire life, Vince grew up in Shenandoah, Pennsylvania, during the 1950s and 1960s, when the small screen was his companion and playmate. He walked with crutches as a child and found it difficult to participate in many outdoor activities due to limited mobility. Classic TV shows granted him not only the opportunity to watch but actually participate in the on-screen action.
As he recalls, “Television was a big part of my life. I would dance [with] American Bandstand, wear my coonskin cap during Davy Crockett, fire my toy rifle with The Rifleman, and clown around with The Three Stooges. These shows became my friends and playmates.”
Bewitched, in particular, was also one of his favorite programs, and Lizzie one of the TV stars who most inspired him, both as a human being and to work in the entertainment industry. As a youngster, he followed her career and was “thrilled to see her starring in her own sitcom. Of course her beauty is only one of the first things that caught your eye. But in addition to that, it was her acting v
ersatility. I loved watching her. She had such a wonderful way to draw you into her character. You knew right from the start that she was a good witch who only wanted to do positive things for people. Samantha has a great deal of power but only used it sparingly for only good purposes.”
“To me, spiritually,” he concludes, “it showed the existence of true love in the world. I followed her career and saw the full range of her acting ability. Yes, Ms. Montgomery could also play bad, excellently. As her fan base grew, so did she as an actor. I was captivated by her. Bewitched was and still is a major part of my life experience.”
Lizzie clearly hit a chord with the disabled community, the down-trodden, the under-privileged, the put-upon, the physically, mentally, visually, and vocally impaired, and minorities of every kind. The late gifted author Lauri E. Klobas was a loyal advocate of the challenged community, she was also as a big fan of Lizzie’s. In her book, Disability Drama in Television and Film (McFarland, 1988), Klobas included a review and analysis of Lizzie’s renown TV-film, Second Sight: A Love Story, about a blind woman’s relationship with her seeing-eye dog and the new man in her life. The year her book was published, Klobas offered an explanation of Lizzie’s diverse popularity, touching on closed captioning for television programming, which is widely available now (and which Lizzie had unsuccessfully once rallied for on Bewitched):
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