The Waterbury Democrat., 1939-08-11

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 An informal chat with March at the theater these days is almost impossible. The moment he gets to the theater he is deep in the grease paint pots and lost in a voluminous wardrobe, transform ing himself from typical young American to a typical young Ger man immigrant. And from that point on he is either on the stage or dashing to and from dressing rooms, changing costumes, make up, wigs and being generally ur- approachable.
 This reporter, therefore, deem- ed it wisest to get himself invited to March's Connecticut retreat in order to find the popular actor re- faxed and at his ease and perhaps conversationally inclined. He was not disappointed.
 So you want to talk" March began from the depths of ham, mock slung between two stately elms on a spacious lawn. Well, young fellow, you don't know what you're letting yourself in for. There's something about this place which opens up the fiood- gates of the soul, heart and intel lect and talk seems to flow as freely as a brook So, if I seem to bend your ear, you might give me the high sign or say when and II quit.
 ALWAYS LIKED .. THE COUNTRY
 "See those chickens, that COW and horse," March continued pointing off to the barn some dis tance away. Well, they've given me an entirely new perspective. That field, too, with things grow ing out of the ground up toward the sun. I might also mention these trees which I'm putting to such a base use with this ham, mock.
 Ever since I grew up and went first into cage in a Wall street bank, and then on the stage, I've taken nature for granted. I'd oc- casionally bump into nature in the course of my peregrinations around the country with one show or another, but the closest we ever got was 8 nodding &C., quaintance.
 T spent ten years in New York or on the road with Broadway plays. It was an intense business, this matter of making living and building career. Another ten years was spent in Hollywood making pictures. I made about 40 pictures which means I didn't have much time to stop and pick flowers I was always a country boy in the big city.
 You see, I was born in Racine, Wisconsin, and compared to a cos- mopolitan city like New York that was the country. As a boy I did all the things that country boys traditionally do, or did. Ra- cine is on Lake Michigan We used to go swimming inside the breakwater. We'd steal lumber from houses under construction and build rafts. Wed appropriate vegetables from neighboring gar- dens and cook 'slum-gullion'.
 Part of my life, from infancy on, was wound up with nature which manifested itself in abun- dance all around me and became a part of all my pleasant child hood experiences. had an in- timacy with growing things. HAVING FARM
 IS A THRILL
 What I'm trying to say, is that in one way or another most of us try to get back to or recapture some of the beautiful irresponsi- bility and charm of our childhood and that's what this place rep- resents to me. I've wanted to have a place like this way back when l was acting around Broadway. The same desire was with me while I was in Hollywood. I've always been too busy, though. The fact that The American Way was able to run through the summer and also allow me a five weks' va cation presented me with the ideal opportunity.
 What, no high sign yet?" March asked at this point. T should think you've had enough. Well, I don't know whether you are being just polite, but as told you before, I can go on and on. won't take advantage of you, however There's tennis court on the other side of the house. and little further down we have a little pool. I'm sure you'd rath- CT play a set and have a swim than listen to any more of the personal history of Fredric March. So, let's go."