"Old Stone Face" can now smile
while nibbling from pot as
daughter Betty Precht looks on.
How
to
play
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for
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Olvt hr lady ShaHf, s wl f a
pnl The warmth and charm of
a lady's handwriting can only
be captured by a good fountain
pen. And here's the most femi
nine one of all! The Lady
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refills cleanly, easily with drop
in cartridges of Ship writing fluid.
Illustrated: Paisley pen gj
with gold-colored ac- -rr?j
cents, 110; set with
matching pencil $14.95. LJ
SheafferS
Nob D 0i Smle
Television's original poker puss says life's
a lark now that his ulcer is gone
By ED SULLIVAN as told to Marya Saunders and Robert Gaines
When I was in Paris last year, I dined one evening with
Maurice Chevalier. My ulcer had been acting up all
day and, though we were in one of the most expensive res
taurants on the Right Bank, I could barely touch the mar
velous meal that was served to us.
Chevalier noticed this and said, "Ah, my dear Edward,
are you feeling all right?"
"Fine," I said.
He pointed to my plate. "But you're not eating."
"I never eat," I complained sourly. Chevalier raised his
eyebrows in the inimitable way he has, as if to say, "How
crazy these Americans are! They fly 3,000 miles to Paris and
then refuse to taste its greatest pleasure good food."
How can you tell a Frenchman who has always enjoyed
the very best cuisine what it is like to live with an ulcer?
How can you tell him what it is like to live on mush and
baby food? Or how an ulcer can completely cut you off from
the world of good food and pleasant after-dinner talk?
For 13 years ever since my first appearance on TV
people and particularly the TV critics have used terms like
"dead pan," "poker face," and "stone face" to describe me.
A few laughingly nicknamed me "Old Smiley." There was
ample justification for this dour description. I didn't smile.
An ulcer isolated me in a world of irritability.
Last June, I had an operation. My ulcer was removed sur
gically. Eight weeks later, I began discovering a brand-new
world a world most people take for granted.
After my first live TV show this fall, a friend stopped me
on the street and said, "Boy, Ed, did you look happy on the
show! You even smiled." The following day, cards, letters,
and calls poured into the network complimenting me on the
show and the fact that I seemed to be smiling and happy and
getting so much more pleasure from the acts.
The reason was simple. You saw a smiling and happy
man because for the first time you saw me on the air when
I wasn't in physical pain.
If you have never had an ulcer, it is difficult to understand
the tremendous pleasure of getting over it. I'll tell you what
an ulcer is: you can be walking along the street and the
mere impact of your heel on the sidewalk will start a sharp
pain in your stomach. It spreads until it is in your upper
back, and you are encircled by a band of aching pain.
Smile? It wasn't easy.
It seems to me that for most of my life I have lived a freak
existence. Since high school back in Port Chester, N.Y.,
when my ulcer began, I've seldom had a decent meal. Food
has meant little to me except pain, nausea, and the constant,
depressing experience of pumping my stomach. I got by
on pills and powders and nervous energy.
Family Weekly, December IS. I960
The tragedy of an ulcer is not only that it cuts you off from
the world of food, but it can cut you off from friends. In
spite of the fact that I have met many fascinating people,
my ulcer often made me a lonely man. I couldn't count the
number of times I've sat in fine restaurants staring at a
poached egg while everybody else was discussing the gusta
tory joys of their various steaks and sauces. Finally I would
get bored with being the outsider, and I would go home early.
Often, I wouldn't even bother to go out at all. After re
hearsals of our show, the cast would go out together to eat,
but I would stay up in my dressing room and wait for them
to bring me back a container of milk and pound cake.
This is the world that has so recently come to an end for
me. The ulcer is gone now, and I eat like a horse. It's the
"goldarndest" feeling. I even look enviously at other people's
plates and feel like swiping what they're eating!
Some people get ulcers because they produce excess acids
in their digestive tracts. When they are upset or tense, the
vagus nerve, which controls the supply of acid, becomes
overly active, and acids spill into the stomach.
Once in the stomach, this acid begins to eat away at the
lining. Imagine what it would be like if you had a little
scratch on your hand and each day you rubbed acid on it.
In a short time you would have a good-sized irritation. This
is what happens in the stomach when you have an ulcer.
Only in the past 10 years has an operation been per
fected to sever the main vagus nerve and tie off the
smaller branch nerves. Before that time, doctors could only
cut out the ulcer, not the cause. In the case of an ulcer as
bad as mine, this would have left only 20 percent of my
stomach and the dreadful prospect of acids still eating away.
Once the flow of acid is cut down, you realize you are free
of the ulcer and begin to live like a normal human being. I
even eat like one. Now I love to eat, and for the first time
in my life, I can eat anything. Anything!
Now that I enjoy three full meals a day, I've developed
new reading habits, too. Not only do I carefully read every
menu that comes my way, but I own a calorie book.
This interest in calories is actually a deliberate plan on
the part of my doctor and me. I'm trying to gain weight.
You gals may not think so, but this is very difficult. After
my operation I weighed 130 pounds, which was 25 pounds
under my normal weight. In three months I've put on 16
pounds. Now, that's pretty good eating!
Someone asked recently if I could name my favorite feast
of calories now that I was so busy eating. Well, the meal
would start off with oysters on the half shell, then creamed
chicken hash or two French lamb chops. As side dishes, I
( Continued)