The Palm Beach Post from West Palm Beach, Florida on November 3, 1968 · Page 29
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November 3, 1968

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The Palm Beach Post from West Palm Beach, Florida · Page 29

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West Palm Beach, Florida
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Sunday, November 3, 1968
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Page 29
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CI Palm Beach Post-Times, Sunday, Nov. 3, 1968 'White Colt' n II ,. r- K 1 h 4 N- : ! i i r i.' ' : iiriu ? o Not 'square' family film o Not making a statement 0 Not 'with it' modern age Mm 4 If 4 7 - J" r -. 4 t i York University. "This is the story of a boy growing up; as much as Dustin Hoffman in The Graduate' was a boy growing up. And you wouldn't call that a 'family film! " "I'm not making a 'statement ' he says about "The White Colt" "I'm making a film." He asks that it be judged as a film and not as part of a genre. "Family Films" are a difficult problem for the movie industry. On the one hand, parents, civic and church groups constantly cry for more films of this type. The August film ratings of the Film Board of National Organizations, for example, reviewed and rated 16 features, but found only three suitable for the young. The others were rated either "Mature young" or "adult." Yet, with few exceptions particularly the consistent success of Walt Disney films they are not DARTMOOR, England (AP) Here, on the murky Moors where Sherlock Holmes tracked down the hound of the Baskervllles, New York-born Dick Saraflan Is directing a "family film" called "The White Colt." But don't let Sarafian hear you lable it. It gets his Armenian ire up. Sarafian, directing his first full-length feature film, objects to the predispositions set up by the tag "family film" particularly before the film is completed. Yet "family film" is the peg Columbia Pictures is stressing In its promotion material, suggesting this story of a young boy and horse as an antidote to the current wave of screen violence and overpermis-slveness. "There is not simply a 'square' family film," reacts Sarafian, a dark-haired bear of a man who was once a pre-med student at New 1a..- J ANTIDOTE TO VIOLENCE Ten-year-old Mark Lester is on location on Dartmoor, England, during the shooting of Columbia's "The White Colt." The story, seen as a counterweight to the current wave of screen violence, tells of a young boy's friendship with a wild horse. big winners at the boxoffice. Jack Valenti, president of the Motion Pictures Association of America, In a recent speech in Kansas City, Mo., took cognizance of the complaints of a "lack of films plainly aimed at the entire family." "I hold no brief for any specific kind of film," he answered these critics. "I truly believe that the creative f immaker cannot tailor his craft ti some rigid rote. This is formula filmmaking and I daresay it will not endure today, anymore, than it persisted in the past." He also brought up the question of how much boxoffice support family films get from those who complain about their lack. Sarafian touched on a related problem: the tough job of selling a "family film" to a studio. In "The White Colt," he noted, "we had an orphan, a child nobody wanted." David Rock's novel was bought for filming by John Danischewsky, who later sold It to producer Irving Allen. It was Allen who knocked on Dartmoor, with its incredible backgrounds, unspoiled and untouched but by nature, where the sheep graze on the narrow roads often blocking the tourist auto traffic, where the side roads have side roads. Dartmoor, where when the shooting schedule one day called for "rain, mist, wind" typical Moor weather the sun shone brightly all day. Film technicians had to create artificial mist. Sarafian, a merry monitor on the set, and truly funny off it, is a scruffy-looking, coarse-sounding man enjoying his image as "enfant terrible." Yet the former TV director gets serious when he talks about what he is trying to do with this film. "We've lost the forest. The sense of open space," he laments of the too-much-with-us modern age. He hopes his treatment of "The White Colt" brings some of that loss back. And he hopes it will be judged on that basis. studio doors and finally sold the idea to Columbia. It is the story about a boy, unable to speak, who tames a wild white colt and, through his attachment to the horse, is brought out of his silent world. The boy is played by Mark Lester, the 10-year-old star of the film musical "Oliver," a blond towhead completely enjoying the outdoor filming of "White Colt" - "It's better than being In a studio" when visited on the set. John Mills, Sylvia Syms, Gordon Jackson, Bernard Miles and 12-year-old Fiona Fullerton also are cast in the film, which is set on the English Moors. The bogs and the marshes, the "mystique of the Moors," Sarafian said, are central to the story. That's what brought the company to the Dartmoor area In the West Country of England, around the towns of Peter Tavy and Mary Tavy, past Her Majesty's prison at Prince-town, near the River Dart and a seen ic spot called Two Bridges . : I S it " - ' tSf 'j 1.? . ( s ;, -- " " '' - -ii i.iniii ii ii it 1i Near End Of Campaign Trail Real Pat Nixon Stand Up? Not Till After The Election Editor's Note: There has been a good deal of debate about excessive violence and sex in modern movies and a lack of general audience entertainment. "The White Colt, " filming on the Moors of England, is being promoted as a reply to those critics but its director would rather it were jduged as a film, not a type. FAMILY ON LOCATION A film the whole family can enjoy but not to be branded, says Director Dick Sarafian. Filming here with the colt are, from left, John Mills, Mark Lester and Fiona Fullerton . He Heard Call For Safety 'Auto Ear' Can End Closed Car Dangers patent. Ever since 1961, when twenty children were killed as the result of a train-bus collision in Colorado, Mr. Castlen has been working on methods to prevent this type of The "Auto-Ear" Is the culmination of his efforts. This Is a small device about the size of a package of cigarettes which, when mounted on the window of a tightly closed car, alerts the driver to conven- "Those things don't bother me." As Nixon is about to conclude his remarks, Mrs. Nixon's alertness increases, watching for her cue. Sometimes in the seconds after he stops speaking, and while the partisan audience Is clamoring its approval, Nixon sweeps the local Republican candidates up off their seats and under his widespread arms, making V for victory signs with his fingers over their heads. Then the tableau breaks, he gives an almost Imperceptible sign, the men step . back and his wife is there by his side sharing the acclaim. With each of them lifting high the outside arm, the team of Pat and Dick take over the spotlight. Sometimes Nixon puts an arm around her, sometimes he doesn't. Sometimes, when she has not been Introduced before his talk, he'll say things such as, at a Mole, 111., rally: "As far as Pat is concerned, she'll win the beauty contest and I'll do the talking." That, basically, sums up their respective public roles In their confident, cautious campaign. He talks, she listens. She defends this division of labors: "He's the candidate, and he speaks on the Issues four times a day. I don't see why I should." But Mrs. Nixon takes pride In her behind-the-scenes work. "I think the greatest contribution to his campaign that I make is that I am a volunteer and I do work with volunteers. I give them Ideas and thank them and keep their Interest up. It's not on the schedule, but it's one of the things I do." On the "Tricia," the Nixon staff plane, the two press planes are called the "Julie" and the "David" flying from one far-flung rally to the next, she works almost constantly on mall. Sometimes she appears compulsive about It; surely the staff could accommodate another letter-answer-it to allow the candidate's ENROUTE WITH PAT NIXON (AP) "... And now, that lovely lady the new first lady of the United States!" She has heard it in every dialect and regional inflection in every part of the country again and again and again, and each time as the applause begins to swell, Pat Nixon rises smiling from the first row of folding chairs on the platform crowded with local politicians and moves swiftly forward, cradling In her arms the recently bestowed long-stemmed red roses still wrapped In green florists' paper, and arches her body in a slight bow Ingratiating and Ineffably feminine, the eternal helpmeet frozen for the length of a handclap In an attitude of artless humility. Then she is quickly back in her seat, ankles crossed and smile in place as Richard M. Nixon begins to speak. Phrases so familiar to her need tor new leadership, end the war with honor, sock It to 'em roll through the field house or auditorium or hotel ballroom. As she sits nodding emphatically while her husband makes an often-made point, does she ever look beyond the noisy, partisan crowd Into the vista of the future and feel a panic? How does she feel, at 55, at prospect of becoming the first lady of the land, to live in that national shrine on Pennsylvania Avenue, to watch her every word and action or tack of them become topics of public conversation, to become part of every American history book yet to be written? About this, Thelma Patricia Ryan Nixon, orphaned daughter of a hardscrabble miner, who worked her way through college and then helped her husband work his way through politics, denies she has any fears. "I had on-the-job training when my husband was vice president," she says. wife more rest. But with Mrs. Nixon that's not the point. She can't stand being Idle. When there Is work to be done she can't enjoy the games and Jigsaw puzzles over which her daughter, Julie, and Julie's fiance, David Elsenhower, pore when they're on board. Besides, In addition to the public mail, the Nlxons carry on a vast personal correspondence with pen pals from as far back as their early political days, and until very recently when It became a deluge Mrs. Nixon answered most of it laboriously In longhand. "People address letters to us both," she says. "They know I always work closely with him so I can answer the mail while he keeps up on briefings. Then, loo, I can take care of telephone calls to him." Further, she says, "I read newspapers and I tell him the woman's viewpoint In certain areas. But I don't feel that with Dick's experience I could really add anything to what he knows." The eight years since the first Nixon attempt to win the presidency have dealt gently with her. She is prettier now, her hair softer and blonder, her clothes more chic and expensive. She seems happier sitting on a platform, especially when she is buttressed by her two daughters. When blonde Tricia, 22, and brunette Julie, 20, Join their parents' tour from time to time and the three "lovely Nixon ladies", as they're always introduced, sit together at a rally, Pat is more vivacious, and has a sparkle In her blue eyes. Both girls are working full time where they're needed in the campaign. Tricia graduated from Finch College in New York City this spring and Julie Is taking off a semester from Smith. David Elsenhower, the former president's grandson, Is studying at Amherst and can Join Julie and her Jamily only on weekends. ' By BETTY LINN Staff Writer Robert C. Castlen of Lake Worth Towers, pulled Into West Palm Beach in his World War I uniform In 1918, hopped off the train and found himself In a "frontierland" a town whose boundaries were Okeechobee Road on the south, Al-thea Street (now 1st Street) on the north and Georgia on the west. He recalls that when men crossed the city boundaries, they often carried guns on their hips and if one went beyond Georgia Avenue in those days, a boat was needed. His varied career Included a stint in the circulation department of the "Palm Beach Post-Times" when he first arrived here, playing saxophone In a dance band, part-ownership in a printing shop; a number of government Jobs which took him from Brazil to China and later Korea. Back to West Palm Beach, from 1950-52 he served as personnel director for the city. Now stockbroker for Bach and Co., Mr. Castlen, almost 73 ta looking forward, not backward. He's been busily working on an electronic device called "Auto-Ear" for Which be recently received a tlonal audible danger signals (such as sirens and train whistles) soon enough to enable him to take safety precautions, and automatically silences temporarily any radio or tape-player in use in the car. "Auto-Ear" also permits the police officer to talk directly to the driver of each car within a distance of a thousand yards. The device should cost under $30, according to the inventor. Says Mr. Castlen, "Few legislators know that an automobile driver with Impaired hearing is not required to have that impediment corrected with a satisfactory hearing aid before he Is permitted a drivers' license." By the same token, the driver in a tightly-closed car is not required by law to provide means for the conventional highway danger signals to reach his hearing in time for him to take the proper precautions to prevent an accident. Mr. Castlen continues, "Is it not a failure of our legislators, both national and state to make it mandatory for deaf drivers and drivers with hearing deadened while riding in tightly closed cars to have an approved "hearing aid" before being permitted a license to use the public highways?" The driver in the tightly-closed car Is what Mr. Castlen calls the "missing link" In highway communication, and of course this te where the "Auto-Ear" comes in. Several top-rank Insurance companies have expressed an Interest In the Invention, and one In particular has said the invention could possibly reduce casualty Insurance costs, which could be passed along to the policy holder In a reduction in annual premiums. Patent applications are now in the works for another refinement of "Auto-Ear" (the examiner in the U.S. Patent Office has changed the name from "Auto-Ear" to "Vehicle Warning System") and Robert Castlen is anxiously waiting the day when a prototype is finished and successful tests will be made, proving Its usefulness. Then, of course, If put in use, it should reduce the number of accidents caused by failure to hear police and emergency sirens and train whistles and THIS is what Mr. Robert Castlen has been aiming for since 1961. ... t INVENTION PATENTED - Robert C. Castlen, inventor of the vehicle warning device, "Auto-Ear" looks forward to the future in his Lake Worth Towers apartment. y

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