It's estimated that Robert Everett has acted in over 1,000 films and been behind the scenes of many others. His hand--and foot prints are in cement outside a famous Hollywood theatre. He's represented American products on television, and he's modeled. Some may know him by sight if not by name, and despite the fact that countless Americans have seen at least one of his films, they probably wouldn't be caught dead admitting it. It was hard for me to do so when we met for the first in a line of book interviews. Now here I was, visiting his home. I didn't know what to expect when we came face to face.
When he opened the door, my first thought was how handsome he was, and how neatly he kept his house. The biggest surprise was his child shyly looking at me. All this is significant because, since then, I've been asked by otherwise intelligent individuals, "They cook and eat like we do?!" At that time, I almost felt the same. Everett lived in a normal apartment, with furniture and family pictures magneted all over his refrigerator. And he had a CHILD.
Yes, Rob Everett had a son who adored his father. As he served drinks and we talked, the child clung to his dad and, in turn, Dad doted on his child. Our conversation was getting-to-know-you chitchat; the tone, at first cautious, then jovial, interesting, and downright fun.
Since then, from spending many hours with him and his (now ex-) wife and child, I've witnessed him at work, casting and directing a film, dealing with pre-production problems, and editing that film. I've met others in his business and attended a formal, taped-for-broadcast awards show where he was presented a lifetime achievement award.
He and I have had countless in-depth conversations, delving into his psyche to discover his joys and deepest concerns, and why he went into this line of work. I would not have done the same in his situation but I came to understand why he did.
Everett went to Baylor University. He studied theatre and because of his natural acting ability and good looks, was awarded a scholarship from ABC to American Academy of Dramatic Arts. Upon graduation, he did summer stock. Through an agent from the famous William Morris Agency, he was given bit parts on TV, soaps, even a Colgate toothpaste commercial. He married an actress with whom he'd worked, but found that was a mistake. He could tell from the start. This was the late sixties--drugs and free love. Morals often meant little or nothing. There was a war on and people were generally confused.
During this unauspicious second stage of a career which had had such a promising beginning, Everett got a chance to do another type of film. He entered into an "artistic" area which could possibly make him a star, overnight, and bring in more money than he had ever imagined. He had bills, a crumbling marriage, and a faltering self-image. He was willing to try anything.
"Eric Edwards," who has since become one of America's most familiar personalities in X-rated films, was born. On that stage, the real Rob Everett quietly moved to the background. His creative mind and talents were secondary to the consuming vortex into which he had been drawn. In a film business where acting was clearly secondary, not at all necessary, he was a novelty.
His X-rated career skyrocketed. His legitimate career died. Colgate discovered what he had gotten into and immediately pulled his successful commercial off the air, never to use him again. Virtually overnight, he became an adult film legend, but a legitimate film nobody.
Rob Everett--aka Eric Edwards--willingly took his place in the most controversial area of American film history. In doing so, he has bowed to society as it, in turn, sealed his fate. He is now well over 50 years old and, yes, still in the business ... these days as an editor, producer, and writer. Not that he hasn't tried to "break out." He did not originally set out to be forever known as a porn star.
But he has noted that proven by the somewhat underground popularity of X-rated films, Americans privately enjoy these films while they publicly denounce the people involved. As the old cliche goes, folks want their cake, and want to be able to eat it, too.
I learned my lesson. I was like those people, but not anymore. I have zero tolerace for the product--the films--and genuine consideration for the people who are a part of that product. Rob Everett, by being himself, taught me a living lesson to not judge that proverbial book by its cover.
Rob Everett could very well be your neighbor. Your children could have played with his. You might be his grocer, or his banker, or he might live across the street from you. And trust me, you would have no clue what he did for a living ... unless you have watched his films.
