BLACK EYE ON CBS
J.R. Ewing Packs A Piece
And I Get Blown Away

T

HAT despicable oil baron, J.R. Ewing, the villainous hero of Dallas, is back and I’m headin’ for the hills. That’s because the one time I met Larry Hagman, the man who plays this slimy character, I got into so much trouble that CBS banned me from their press junkets.

It happened in 1985 when the country was going bananas with the Texan shenanigans on this racy primetime soap opera about the double dealing Ewings of Southfork Ranch that mesmerized a nation for 14 seasons from 1978 to 1991.

As television columnist of The New York Post, I was invited by the Television Critics Association (TCA) to the West Coast twice a year for two weeks of interviews with the stars and producers and preview the upcoming TV season.

In January 1985, after a full day of panel discussions, the CBS publicists rounded up a busload of journalists and herded us to the expensive and exclusive strip of sand called Malibu where we descended on Larry Hagman’s lavish digs. He’s considered honorary mayor of the beach colony.

His oceanfront hideaway on Malibu Colony Drive was secluded behind an iron fence, right next to Highway Patrol. Talk about privacy and security—he had it all.

We were a giddy bunch, so excited to touch shoulders with America’s No. 1 television star on his own turf. Larry and his Swedish-born wife Maj opened their heavenly haven to host a meet-the-press reception for his Southfork denizens. Most came out — Donna Reed, Priscilla Presley, Steve Kanaly, Ken Kercheval, Howard Kheel and Linda Gray.

The hosts graciously encouraged us to tour their abode at leisure. Some trooped through the ultramodern kitchen, a couple settled in the cozy living room to watch football on the giant screen TV, others ambled out on the deck for drinks.

Some of us gathered around Hagman before a roaring fire in the front room where he dispensed bons mots.

We asked, Do you give big business a bad name? "Big business deserves whatever it’s called," he said.

"I don’t collect jewels," he said. "People walk away with my hats. I don’t care, as long as they don’t smoke."

Larry has about 300 hats and 400 flags. "People send me hats and flags when they know I collect them. My wife says we should build a hat house."

When he visited the Soviet Union that year, he said he’d be more than happy to donate his salary to show Dallas there. "It’s about the power of capitalism and corruption and would be great for them. Instead they said not to bother. They said. ‘You have women in big cars and big homes. We don’t live like that here.’"

A few of us slipped upstairs to explore further. I stepped gingerly over a white bear rug in the master bedroom. There was the king size bed. Wow! I had to sit down.

The white pillowcase said it all: "Living well is the best revenge." That about sums up the philosophy of the warring Ewings—and the Larry Hagman credo as well.

I fantasized how he would open his eyes in the morning and the first thing he’d see is the mighty Pacific. I was entranced by the wondrous sight of the awesome surf.

My eye caught a stack of books on the night table. There was his mom Mary Martin’s My Heart Belongs. Of course. Also Shirley McLaine’s Out on a Limb. And there was Nixon.

Why isn’t the author’s name on the cover? I opened the book. Surprise! There was no author — only a revolver!

Now that’s the Dallas style! That remained my exclusive discovery until I revealed this side of Hagman’s personality in The New York Post.

The story hardly stirred a ripple in Fun City. However it caused a corporate earthquake on the Left Coast that shook the suits at CBS.

At the next TCA gathering in L.A. I checked in with the CBS hospitality suite. I noticed a tense posse of sweaty execs huddling in the corner. High-strung heads were swinging in my direction. "There he is," one whispered.

The tension was palpable as a publicity flack broke from the group to confront me.

"You’re not welcome here," he grunted as he gripped my arm and steered me to the door.

I was stunned. I couldn’t believe I was being thrown out of a "hospitality" suite.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked in hushed tones, embarrassed in front of my TCA colleagues, not one of whom intervened or questioned why one of their own was being ejected from the CBS portion of the press tour.

With a sneer worthy of an Emmy, or at least a pay hike, he allowed, "It’s because what you wrote about Larry Hagman." The star had sent word that he wanted me disinvited from the guest list, and the timid network execs, quaking in their shiny suits, shamelessly surrendered.

Twelve years later he confessed to carrying a licensed gun and the press went ballistic. "Pistol-packing Hagman’s a son of a gun," screamed the New York Post. "Hagman shoots from the lip at New Orleans," chirped the New York Daily News. "Careful, He Carries" said Newsday which felt obliged to warn readers: "Don’t get Larry Hagman mad. He carries a gun everywhere and he’s not afraid to use it."

Hagman was in the Cajun city filming Orleans, a 1997 CBS series that expired in four months.

In a press conference in the Big Easy he revealed that he packs a licensed .22 because it’s "a very dangerous town. People carry guns, including me."

He went on to reveal that he fired his weapon once. He was hassled on Sunset Boulevard by young people in a car. They demanded money and bumped into the rear of his car.

"I was really scared. And so I whipped out my pistol…and pointed it out the window and shot off a couple of shots" and the kids drove away. Hagman said he doesn’t show his gun in public anymore. "Now I’d have been riddled with AK-47 shots."

It is 27 years since I first exposed Hagman’s gun. The rapacious Texas oilman J.R. has returned to Dallas. This time on TNT. We can expect the usual backstabbing and nefarious affairs to flare up in grand style. (I already got a taste of it.)

Larry, who turns 81 on September 21, and Maj now live in Ojai, California.

Am I still barred from the ranch?

I promise not to delve into the contents of his nightstand. I’ll bring my own book.