2
Robert Taylor Outd
He's nearly 50 with much of the same
youthful handsomeness that made him a film favorite;
his secret? hunting, fishing,
flying, and spinning yarns about them all
By PEER ). OPPENHEIMER
ON auo, 5 of this year actor Bob Taylor will cele
brate his 50th birthday.
Conservatively speaking, he looks 40.
Much of the credit goes to a vigorous outdoor
life, the love for which dates back to his youth in
Filley, Neb.
"I rode horses almost as soon as I learned to walk,"
he says. "I shot my first jack rabbit when I was
only nine years old."
His father, a doctor, had a lot of confidence in his
only son. He simply wished him good luck when
the boy left the house with a shotgun under his arm.
College and the beginning of a motion-picture
career temporarily interrupted Bob's outdoor ac
tivities, but a chance meeting with Gary Cooper at
Sun Valley, Idaho, not only rekindled his interest
but sparked it to the point where nowadays, if it's
during the hunting season, one needn't ask Bob's
whereabouts when he isn't working.
"Coop never went anywhere without his guns,"
Bob recalled. "When we met in Sun Valley back
in '39, he persuaded me to go with him on a pheasant
hunt I've been hunting ever since."
Bob admits a couple of close calls on his expedi
tions, the most frightening of which occurred a few
years ago just north of Bakersfield, Calif., during
the duck season.
He was using an over-and-under 12-gauge shot
gun. In his coat, among his 12-gauge shells, he also
had a 20-gauge shell left over from a previous hunt
ing trip. Accidentally, he put it into the lower barrel.
"The first time I fired, nothing happened, so I put
another shell into the chamber, this time a
12-gauge." The first shell had simply slipped down
the barrel, and when Bob pulled the trigger again,
both shells went off simultaneously and the ex
plosion ripped holes in both sides of the barrel.
"Fortunately," says Bob, "we were holding a
flock of flying ducks in our sights, and I was just
swinging the gun around when it happened. Had I
been shooting straight on, the shot coming out of
the side would have blown my companion's head
off. It missed him by inches."
Still, Bob's hand quickly swelled to the size of a
grapefruit. "Get back to the cabin and soak your
hand," his companion, Harry Fleishman, ordered.
"Then get another gun and come back."
"It was the best advice he could have given me,"
Bob recalls. "It's just like climbing back on a horse
after you get thrown. If I hadn't done it, I might
have been too scared to go hunting again."
20
Family Weekly, May 21, 19C!
Most of Bob's hunting is done on the property of
a friend in north-central Wyoming, 30 miles but of
Sheridan. "He let Ursula and me take over an old
homestead cabin shortly after we were married,"
Bob explains. Then, to answer a still-unasked ques
tion, he adds, "Ursula has made a fine outdoors
woman. She doesn't particularly like to shoot any
thing, but she comes along' to watch and isn't
squeamish when an animal is killed."
His German-born wife also excels in helping Bob
clean and dress game, start fires, and generally
rough it in Wyoming, or wherever his love for the
outdoors takes them. In fact, she's far more patient
than Bob when it comes to at least one outdoor
sport fishing.
"I've fished since I was six years old," Bob says.
"Almost every day after school I got on my pony
to join a friend who lived in a cabin near the river.
We used to catch grasshoppers and put them on a
series of hooks which we left in the water overnight.
Most of the time we caught carp too full of bones
to be eaten. Once in a while we caught a catfish.
They were delicious."
Today, Bob has one of the most complete assort
ments of fishing equipment of any star. And on
a moment's notice he will go deep-sea fishing in
the gulf of Baja, California,' trout fishing in the
Green River, or he'll saw a hole in the ice to throw
a line in a lake near Pinedale, Wyo.
"The trouble is that if I can't catch anything, I
soon lose my patience and quit," he admits.
Does fishing or hunting relax him?
"Not really," says Bob. "If I have a professional
'problem on my mind, I stay home and worry about
it till it's taken care of. I guess hunting does pro
vide some sort of therapy. While you are doing it,
you can't really think of much else."
Bob's favorite outdoor pastime is flying. His twin
engine plane has become as much a means of trans
portation to Bob, Ursula, and their children (Terry,
5, and Tessa, 1) as a car is to most families.
Bob first became interested in flying in 1939,
- when he was starring in the movie, "Flight Com
mand." A year later he bought his own plane, then
took lessons for a pilot's license.
During World War II, he was a flight Instructor
in the Navy. When he got out of the service, he
progressed from a single-engine to a twin-engine
plane because "it's a lot safer."
Today, he considers his recklessness during his
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A seasoned horseman, Bob en;oys riding around his
first years in the air as "pure foolishness."
He recalls the day he and a friend suddenly
decided to fly to the Southern California-Notre
Dame football game in Indiana. By the time they
reached the airport to take off at 5 a.m.,. the fog -was
so thick they couldn't even see the runway.
"When I went out with a flashlight to look for the
end of the runway," Bob says, "I found it only after
I accidentally stepped off the pavement. My friend
helped me look for the numerals which identified
the center of the runway. When we found them,
we lined up the plane according to the compass and,
still unable to see more than a couple of feet ahead
of us, climbed back into the cabin and called the
tower over the radio."
"7BIN YO ao BYwMyou'jeflymS or taxiing?"
W a voice inquired.
Bob considered this very funny, started the en
gine, and took off with visibility at zero level.
"Thanks to being older and having a family I
outgrew this sort of stupidity," says Bob.
Ursula likes flying, and so does daughter Tessa,
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California ranch with actress-wife Ursula.
who's been flying since she was six weeks
old. Son Terry, however, has a sensitive
stomach and becomes sick when the
weather gets rough.
Although Bob used to go for other forms
of outdoor life, he no longer cares for golf,
tennis, and the like. He prefers more
rugged activities and a short while ago
managed to bring the outdoors closer to
home by buying 113 acres with 16 miles of
bridle paths in Mandeville Canyon, Calif.,
where the' Taylors now live with their 12
horses, assorted rabbits, goats, chickens,
dogs, and other animals.
There's only one outdoor dream that
hasn't come true yet for Bob. "I wish I
could see the day I could afford to fly my
own jet plane." He shrugs his shoulders.
"I guess it'll be 50 years till they are cheap
enough so I could afford one."
The way Bob's been going and with his
kind of life, he could still be around then
tan, fit, and healthy.
Family Weekly, May 21, JS61
mm
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