Out of all the many stars and celebrities Hollywood has produced, only a handful have achieved the fame—and, some would say, infamy—of Orson Welles, the creator and star of what is arguably the greatest American film, Citizen Kane. Many books have been written about him, detailing his achievements as an artist as well his foibles as a human being. None of them, however, has gotten so close to the real man as does Chris Welles Feder's beautifully realized portrait of her father. In My Father's Shadow is a classic story of a life lived in the public eye, told with affection and the wide-eyed wonder of a daughter who never stopped believing that someday she would truly know and understand her elusive and larger-than-life father. The result is a moving and insightful look at life in the shadow of a legendary figure and an immensely entertaining story of growing up in the unreal reality of Hollywood, enhanced by Welles Feder's collection of many never-before-seen family photographs. In My Father's Shadow A Daughter Remembers Orson Welles By Chris Welles Feder ALGONQUIN BOOKS OF CHAPEL HILL Copyright © 2009 Chris Welles Feder All right reserved. ISBN: 978-1-56512-599-5 Contents A Note to the Reader......................................................................XIPrologue..................................................................................1CHAPTER ONE Growing Up in Movieland.......................................................11CHAPTER TWO Orson's Kid...................................................................36CHAPTER THREE Going to Daddy's School.....................................................51CHAPTER FOUR My Father Lost and Found.....................................................74CHAPTER FIVE The Visits...................................................................95CHAPTER SIX Together Again................................................................120CHAPTER SEVEN The Phone Call..............................................................140CHAPTER EIGHT In His Absence..............................................................163CHAPTER NINE Reunion in Hong Kong.........................................................185CHAPTER TEN Reconnecting with My Father...................................................205CHAPTER ELEVEN The Final Years............................................................219CHAPTER TWELVE After His Death............................................................237CHAPTER THIRTEEN Meeting Oja Kodar........................................................250CHAPTER FOURTEEN "Darling girl, they're gonna love me when I'm dead!".....................269ACKNOWLEDGMENTS...........................................................................281PHOTO CREDITS.............................................................................283 Chapter One Growing Up in Movieland The first time I saw Rita Hayworth, my father was sawing her in half. It was the final and most spectacular trick he performed on the opening night of his Mercury Wonder Show. It was August of 1943, the summer we were at war with Japan, and the magic show was for the benefit of our servicemen who were about to be shipped to the Pacific theater. It was held in a big circus tent erected on Cahuenga Boulevard in downtown Hollywood. I can still smell the popcorn and the sawdust, still remember my excitement throughout the show, and how, unable to contain myself, I kept climbing up on my seat, ignoring my Scots nanny Marie who kept tugging on my dress and hissing, "Now you sit down again, madam, and behave yourself!" But I had to tell the people sitting in the row behind us, "That's my daddy up there. My daddy!" I had never seen him on the stage before that night. Billed as Orson the Magnificent, he wore a fez and a voluminous black-and-white striped robe. He might look like the genie escaped from Aladdin's lamp, a genie whose smile seemed to say, "Be careful what you wish for," but his disguise didn't fool me, and I made sure, in spite of Marie's shushing, that it didn't fool anyone else within earshot. I was five years old that night, the perfect age for the magic arts of Orson Welles, or as he preferred to call them, "hocus-pocus, mumbo jumbo, and hanky-panky." I sat there enthralled while he swallowed fire, read minds, hypnotized a rooster, pulled a rainbow of knotted scarves out of his sleeve, made a bouquet of yellow roses appear in an empty vase and a white rabbit wiggle out of a black top hat. When a man in a turban and baggy pants marched out of the wings and aimed a rifle at him, I held my breath, then screamed when the gun went off and his head snapped back. Seconds later, Orson the Magnificent turned to face the audience, and there was the bullet caught between his teeth! Then came the moment the troops had been waiting for. A shapely young woman with copper red hair appeared on the stage. Dressed in a skimpy hare