I’ve had a lifelong crush on Robert Redford. It began when John and I saw Barefoot in the Park (1967). Butch Cassidy and The Sting are all-time favorites, of course. But also, for me, The Natural, The Candidate (so prescient!), Jeremiah Johnson (heartbreaking), The Hot Rock(hilarious), The Great Waldo Pepper and The Milagro Beanfield War were all wonderful. I can’t imagine anyone not having a list of favorite Redford films.

It didn’t take long for that “crush” to turn to admiration…of Redford’s advocacy for the environment and so many good causes, his choice to make movies that had a point, his disdain for the glitzy, empty lifestyle of Hollywood playboy/movie idol he easily could have had, and his nurturance of cinematic creativity freed from big studio control.

Back in 1973, when I was an editor at Polaroid Corporation in Cambridge, Massachusetts, there was great buzz around the office because Marie Cosindas—one of the many famous photographers who worked with Polaroid film and consulted regularly with the company’s technical experts and promotional gurus—was commissioned to do the stills for Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. There was to be a fundraising event with Redford (perhaps Newman, too; I can’t remember), and I could have purchased a ticket—for $200. But back then the $200 was not in the budget. (Sigh)

Nevertheless, when December rolled around, I was thrilled to receive a birthday card with a black and white photo of Robert Redford on the cover. Inside, the signature: “Love, Bob.” (So what if I knew it was sent by my jokester husband?) I proudly pinned it to the bulletin board in my office.
Also tacked to the bulletin board was a column I cut from the Boston Globe. If I remember correctly, it was entitled “Why I love Robert Redford” by Ellen Goodman. (I tried to verify this, but Google let me down.)

At some point in the 1980s (or maybe the 1990s) I met another mom who lived, with her husband and family, in a fabulous house I had played in as a child and always thought of as a mysterious mansion (a classmate lived on the third floor with her brother and her mother, who was the caretaker). She invited me over one afternoon to tour the place, which turned out to be not quite as large and grandiose as I had remembered (although still impressive). I liked this other mom and was disappointed that before I even got to know her, she announced that she was moving to Utah with her children and architect husband, who would be helping Robert Redford with Sundance projects. The details are lost in the mists of time. Yet the memory of the internal sigh I felt at the time remains with me.

I have a vivid memory of a single line in a profile of Redford that appeared in Redbook magazine years ago. The author spoke of the fact that although Redford was a larger-than-life hero and incomparable heartthrob, he was not, in fact, a tall man. In trying to pin down the specifics of his height, she asked an acquaintance who worked in an office near enough to Redford’s that she frequently saw him coming and going, “How tall is he?” the author asked.

The answer: “He’s ten feet tall when he stands on his charisma.”

I’m no movie star…and neither are you (I’m guessing). So none of us can stand as tall as Robert Redford (having not nearly as much going for us in the charisma department). But what we CAN all do is stand tall when it comes to standing up for our democracy, speaking out against the wrongs me see, showing up for events we believe will help send our country in the right (or should I be saying “left” direction), and doing what we can for others, and doing what we know is right.