The story of Earl Holliman’s journey to Hollywood is one of aspiration and perseverance. In 1943, Holliman was 14 years old and adamant about wanting to be a movie star.
Raised in Oil City and Mooringsport, rather than Shreveport as is frequently stated, he traveled via a number of locations before arriving in Hollywood.
He first went to see relatives in Camden, Arkansas, and from there he bused himself to Texarkana. He took a rideshare to Hollywood from there.
Holliman had worked the night shift at a diner close to Barksdale Air Force Base and as a theater usher, so he had saved some money. A serviceman he met at the cafe even gave him a lead on a place to stay, which turned out to be in El Monte, California, a good distance from Hollywood. Looking back on his trip, Holliman acknowledges that it was a dangerous decision that wouldn’t be prudent in the modern day.
DAILY LIFE IN HOLLYWOOD
After his initial try in Hollywood failed, Holliman made a quick trip back home before deciding to serve in the Navy. But his desire to be a movie star never went away. Later on, he went back to Los Angeles to continue his education at the University of California, Los Angeles and the Pasadena Playhouse.
Holliman’s perseverance was rewarded. With parts in “Giant” (1956), “Forbidden Planet,” “The Rainmaker,” and “The Sons of Katie Elder,” he amassed an amazing reel of cinematic credits. Additionally, he gained recognition for his television appearances, most notably in “Police Woman” with Angie Dickinson and in “The Thorn Birds” with Richard Chamberlain and Rachel Ward.
Holliman remembers his Hollywood days fondly, especially his first morning there. Wearing dark glasses and a silk shirt with short sleeves, he strutted in front of Grauman’s Chinese Theatre, wondering if anyone thought he was a celebrity. The naive hopes of youth were present in that moment.
Check out the image below to see Earl Holliman’s current age of 95:
Husband receives photo from his wife, he can’t believe it
My phone buzzed on a normal Tuesday afternoon, alerting me to a message from my wife Emma. After ten years of marriage, our bond was based on respect, trust, and love. However, this message would rock our marriage to its core.
“Hey, sweetheart! She wrote, “Check this out! I’ve attached a photo.” I was surprised to find Emma with noticeably larger breasts—something we had never talked about—instead of a happy selfie.
I gave her a call right away. “What is this, Emma?” How come you didn’t tell me about this?
She said, “Oh, I thought it would be a nice surprise,” in a casual way. Do you not find it appealing?
“A revelation? This is significant surgery, Emma! How were you unable to talk to me about this? Shaking my voice, I questioned.
“I didn’t believe it to be all that significant. She answered, “I wanted to feel better about myself.
Her remarks hurt. Our trust, which had grown over a decade ago, was broken.
Days later, I came to the conclusion that such a betrayal of trust could not last in a marriage. Emma became combative, adamant that it was her decision and her body.
Although our divorce was painful, it was a sign of a larger problem with misplaced trust.
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