Paul Newman: A Life

(Harmony Books, NY, NY, 2009, ISBN 978-0-307-35375-7)

By Ben Miles

In one of several books published in 2009 about the late actor Paul Newman, author Shawn Levy writes that Newman’s was a “one-in-a-billion stardom.” After completing Levy’s marvelously crafted 474-page biography, Paul Newman: A Life, one would be hard-pressed to not consider Newman as a one-in-a-billion person. Not only did this Oscar-winner master the art of acting as few movie stars ever have but also he was winning auto races into his seventies and generating hundreds of millions of dollars for charity through his ongoing entrepreneurial efforts in Newman’s Own food products.

The most impressive lessons that Levy gleans from the long and rich life of Paul Newman appear to be the actor/humanitarian’s so-called terrierlike determination and “coltish” charm. And though Newman is among the most handsome of matinee idols to ever have graced the silver screen, he himself discounted those God-given attributes, often noting that “having blues eyes [is] no accomplishment.”

After all, Newman was a craftsman who saw acting as his job, writes Levy. “He was raised to work at work.” Newman studied his vocation intently and with passion, at both Yale School of Drama and the Actor’s Studio. Indeed, Newman’s belief was that passion for one thing tends to “bleed over” into one’s other life endeavors.

But Levy’s bio is no mere hagiographic tribute. Both the ups and downs of Newman’s life are examined here. Just as Newman grew from a noteworthy amateur actor into an adroit thespian, he also matured from a somewhat indulgent and uncertain youth into a philanthropic role model and big-screen icon. And, though Newman is admired for his half-century marriage to the gifted actress Joanne Woodward, he divorced his first wife, Jackie, the mother of three of his six children. The reason? He fell in love with Woodward while the two were acting together on the Broadway stage. Later in his enduring wedlock with Woodward, Newman would stray again, briefly, from nuptial fidelity.

Levy also makes it sorrowfully clear that Newman suffered greatly from the death of his 28 year-old son, Scott, from a drug overdose. This 1978 family tragedy motivated Paul Newman to donate $1.2 million to the University of Southern California for the creation of the Scott Newman Chair in Pharmacy and the Scott Newman Center for Drug Abuse Prevention and Health Communications.

Levy’s story of Newman’s life is calculated in such a way as to capture the arc of Newman’s 83 years on earth while also offering us a taste of his personality and mischievous sense of humor. Newman was born to loving but distant parents in Shaker Heights, Ohio. Newman’s mother, Theresa, was an eastern European immigrant whose first language was not English. Newman, like his successful merchant father, Art Newman Sr., was a surprisingly “quiet and taciturn” individual. Who’d think that the budding actor would be an introverted personality? Furthermore, while Newman recalled his mother as being “supportive” of his interest in the theater, his father considered it as “nothing more than star-gazing.” Sadly, the senior Newman didn’t live to experience his son’s extraordinary success on stage and in the movies.

Newman’s strategy for success—whether in acting, auto-racing, or philanthropy—was studied and deliberate. He was an observer and he was intelligent. But what distinguished Newman from most of his contemporaries—besides his singular good looks—was his sheer doggedness. It seems that once Paul Newman put his high-beam focus on a goal, he would accomplish it, regardless that the odds were stacked overwhelmingly in failure’s favor. When Newman was 70 years and 8 days old, he won the 24-Hours of Daytona sports car endurance race, by far the oldest person to ever do so in this grueling event.

Newman’s pranks, practical jokes, and comedic gestures have become the stuff of Hollywood lore. Levy recounts a 1993 episode that occurred in a 1993 taping of The David Letterman Show. “Hiding in the audience,” Levy writes, “[Newman} stood up during Letterman’s…monologue and growled…, ‘Where the hell are the cats?’ He pulled tickets out of his jacket, announced that he was in the wrong theater, and walked out…while Letterman gazed on…taken by surprise.”

The glee in reading Levy’s page-turner lies not just in his easy explanation of Newman as a dimensional and multitalented human being; there’s also an authenticity about the author’s words that lends an earthy credibility to this portrait of Paul Newman. Newman uttered his “last recorded words” to his daughters, saying, “It’s been a privilege to be here.” Read Levy’s fine treatise on Paul Newman and you’ll be entertainingly convinced that the privilege was ours.