The Man And The Myth

The Man and the MythFirst, the confession. Unlike most journalists, I never got drunk with Humphrey Bogart. I met him only once, at a Mayfair club in 1952, when I had just described his face in print as "a triumph of plastic surgery." He called me over to his table, where he was studiously noisy and three parts crocked. We did not love each other at sight, though I happily submitted to what John Crosby once described to me as "that basilisk authority of his." He overawed me b...