I first saw Richard Burton in person when he starred in "Equus" on
Broadway in 1974. I was 15, he was about 51. Always aware of him
from his movies like "The Robe", I had become enamored of him when I
was a kid after seeing him in a late night showing of "Becket" on
the television. It was the excommunication scene that did it. He
had it all, I thought. The brooding, the brains, the pale green
eyes, the smile, the voice!

I absolutely hated "Equus" as a play. It was violent and disturbing
and I was very pretty much horrified by it. The fact that it was
based on a true story multiplied the horror. Add in my love of
horses and it made it nearly impossible to sit though but for
Burton, who was wonderful, naturally. My eyes were glued on him. I
watched in fascination as he puffed through an entire pack of
cigarettes during the performance, very effectively blowing out
volumes of punctuated smoke with the syllables of his lines. I was
smitten. He seemd petrified and vulnerable, pacing the stage in
what I used to call Burton Beatle Boots, a boot with a considerable
heel to give him added height. You had to feel for him. He had
come off a bad time and was trying to make his way back.

Whenever I could, I would go by the Plymouth Theatre to watch him
exit the stage door. There would be throngs of people and he would
need a policeman or two there for security. I was once caught in a
pressing crowd and was pushed into him, much to my intense
mortification. I highly respected his space and knew he did not
particularly like being touched. He accidentally stepped on the
edge of my toe and he put his arm around me and said, "So sorry
dear, did I step on your foot?" I was so flabbergasted that I
really don't know what I replied. I think I just stuttered in an
attempt to let him know that it was fine. I thought how nice it was
of him to take the time to inquire after my welfare despite
prolonging the discomfort to himself in this crush of people.

Later I temporarily lost some of my shyness and decided that hey, I
was going to give this guy a peck on the cheek. You only live once,
I reasoned, and I successfully accomplished this quest by giving him
a sneak kiss on his high cheekbone. I remember I was both
embarrassed by my behavior and elated that I pulled it off. He
didn't seem to notice it at all, to my relief.

A few times Elizabeth Taylor showed up, although by that time they
were no longer married. She was really lovely. Her eyes were a
deep royal blue. Their looks perfectly complimented one another, I
thought. But it was at this time that he was linked with Susan
Hunt. Towering over him and obviously his mismatch, I was very
surprised when he married her.

New York was always abuzz when Richard was performing. He added
some additional excitement to the life of the city. He was invited
everywhere and was featured daily in the gossip columns. The news
programs covered his appearances. He was a regular at the theatre
restaurants; Sardi's and Ted Hook's Backstage. He stayed at a low
key hotel called the Lombardy but would lunch at the Waldorf
Astoria. The police would stop traffic for his stretch limousine.
He had a regular driver with an Irish brogue who basked in the
attention that Burton was receiving. People would ask him for an
extinguished cigarette that Richard put out in the limo ashtrays as
a souvenir. I never summoned the courage up to ask for one.

Before he left New York, he spoke of a return in a production
of "King Lear." Yes, I thought, now that's more like it. Lear.
That's what he should be doing.

[If anyone finds this even remotely interesting, then I will
continue with more observations from his subsequent Broadway
appearances.]