Elaborating on his timid suggestion that they ston in somewhere for coffee, Gordon insisted they have supper together and talk. They ate at a French restaurant, where they ordered chicken cooked in wine . . . and Gordon ta'ked. He was in "advertising". . . whatever that meant. He had been here since graduation as an executive trainee, and was slowly getting comfortable in his job, in his apartment. Gordon told him of the "old gang" that he no longer saw nor even wanted to see. It was agreed that harping on campus doings, and the old days was a ridiculous thing; therefore they both laughed good-naturedly upon confessing that they received and read avidly the Alumni News Quarterly.

He was interested in everything Gordon said. He wanted to be even more interested and he wanted this interest to show. He mustn't push or be overbearing... he'd be animated and vital. He was so lonely . . .it seemed silly but he was.He couldn't recall ever having had such a nice time . . . never before. Never before had he had so much fun. Absurd? He knew the thought was absurd but yet it seemed true. Because the past weeks had held so little . . . it

was true.

I'd love to help. You mean. you just put it up like wallpaper? Is it a difficult process? I'll wear old clothes and work like a bastard... sounds like fun. H was so glad they hadn't just met, talked, and parted. He wanted to cement this friendship.

All day Saturday they worked; glueing sheets of tan burlap to the living-room walls of Gordon's apartment. He thought it was fun. Gordon was all business, Mister Efficiency himself, giving directions and being very particular about how good a job they were doing. A wide selection of records was played and some people from neighboring apartments came in to kibitz and comment. He enjoyed meeting these people, chatting with them, and then hearing Gordon's lengthy and intensive "scoops" upon each one's exit. When the job was done, Gordon went out and shopped for groceries, while he returned the ladders to the janitor and cleaned the living room. They had supper, watched television and talked.

I went to see "Shane" again last week. It's always playing somewhere and I never get tired of it. Gordon laughed when he heard this.

Why are you laughing? Now don't tell me you didn't like it . . . it's a tremendous movie. Alan Ladd was never better . . a perfect mating of star and role. Gordon laughed again, with an all-knowing grin.

Stevens is a great director . . .one of the greatest. I thought "Place in the Sun" was another all time. . . now, what's so funny?

Gordon took him by the shoulders and sat him in the leather chair near the fireplace.

O.K. . . . O.K. "Shane's" a great movie. I agree. Don't get so intense. The reason it struck me funny was because of this fellow I know lives in the Village. He once explained to me why-supposedly-so many people like the movie so much. He's a nut . . . he's got a theory for everything. About "Shane"... he said it particularly appealed to people who had something lacking in their father-son background. He said these people get a bang out of such a story, because they're making Shane a big father image.

Alan Ladd... a big father image?

Quiet... anyway, the father image of the father or somebody who's going to ride in and take care of all the problems and difficulties in living . . . and make things easy for the poor baby who couldn't quite get things moving for himself. Gordon was obviously joking, but he was serious in thinking it over.

What an interesting way to think about a Western's appeal. No longer do people

one

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