Cary Grant was the first superstar I ever met. It was an odd experience, walking into an office at Universal – this was in 1961 – and confronting a man who didn’t know me but whom I’d known for as long as I could remember. He’d just come out of a long story conference, his hair was messy, he hadn’t shaved for a day or so, and his dark slacks and white shirt looked as though he’d slept in them. Clifford Odets was a mutual friend – he was still alive then – and he had asked Cary to see me, so we talked about Clifford for a while, and I don’t remember a word of what was said. My mind was flooded with images from all the Cary Grant movies I’d seen – and I had this uncanny desire to be terribly honest and open with the man, at the same time realizing this might easily put him off.