Socializing

"As far as living in Hollywood was concerned Leslie had always kept a pretty low profile, not from any innate hostility to the place, but simply because he was not a very social animal. He was rarely seen 'around and about' whether in London, New York or Hollywood and carefully avoided gatherings of large numbers of people, suffering from a genuine agoraphobia—crowds really frightened him—and having, as he admitted, no 'head for parties.' In fact, elusive as was his nature, he generally got out of Hollywood as quickly as he could, if only to the nearby desert at La Quinta where he could ride or lie about in the sun without feeling he was under inspection. It was in no sense a 'Howard exclusivity cult' but simply that he needed to escape from time to time, was basically solitary and shy and only really wanted the company of a very few intimate friends." In Search of My Father, pg. 22

"He had built up a reputation for shyness, which he took considerable trouble to maintain. He was excused from many parties because he was supposedly too frightened of large gatherings to appear. It really rather depended on the gathering. A huge group of painters at the Royal Academy dinner delighted him, but an invitation to a fashionable New York party brought the comment: 'I did not go...I don't like brokers, Long Island society, Italian princesses, etc., and I'm sure that's what I should get.'" A Quite Remarkable Father, pg. 11

"My father's growth is interesting partly because he never tried to overcome his weaknesses. He was in some ways quite lazy, and he found it delightfully easy to make use of his disadvantages: shyness and shortsightedness, vagueness and unpunctuality became his trademark, and he hid behind it shamelessly, sheltered from the outside world. But he seemed to have remarkable talents, and he was gentle and humorous and a splendid friend." A Quite Remarkable Father, pg. 14

"He wore [his glasses] whenever he went out, particularly to opening nights or events where a fan might see him, which irritated my mother, who felt he earned his living from the public and should try to be attractive. The sight of him dodging along, his hat down on his nose, his hand over his mouth, and his glasses firmly planted, made her quite violent and she told him he looked as though he had come to rob the safe. He invariably asked her the same question: what did she expect him to do—drift down the aisle tossing back his wavy hair, with one hand on his hip, gurgling, 'Here I am fans, come and get me?' This argument was always fruitless, and he continued to dart about like an espionage agent." A Quite Remarkable Father, pg. 12


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