When AT&T Performing Arts people were trying to raise millions for the Winspear Opera House and Wyly Theater, they put on a special evening at the refurbished Majestic movie house downtown featuring Robert Redford, a film star for all seasons. One of the loveliest moments of my life was getting to do the interview with him that evening in 2005.
First, there was dinner for loyal patrons of the project who went through a lot for a long time to make that miracle happen in the middle of the Arts District. Maybe it was at the Mansion on Turtle Creek, maybe not. I can’t recall exactly now. What I do remember is that Redford left early to relax before the program. He had arrived the day before, to make sure he was rested and in good shape for the good people of AT&T PAC who no doubt paid him well for his appearance that night, as they should. He was worth it.
It’s pertinent to note, however, that this doesn’t always happen. I have heard of speakers — won’t say which ones — who dilly-dallied making their travel plans so the cost of their airfare went up accordingly, not a considerate way to deal with non-profit organizations, no matter how prestigious. Then some would arrive late or barely on time, having been drinking on the plane.
Not Robert Redford. He stayed at the Mansion the night before, and ran on the Katy Trail the next day. I was on the Katy too, it turned out, but didn’t run into him, and just as well since much more effort would be required to put myself together well enough to meet the heartthrob from “The Way We Were.” And when I say heartthrob, that’s no joke. Hoards of frantic fans were gathered outside the Majestic to greet Redford when he arrived.
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None of this phased him, however. He kept his focus on his reason for being in Dallas: to help this city advance the performing arts, to which he had given most of his life, to an apotheosis both new and astounding. To my surprise, he drifted down to my dressing room — an unexpected feature of this rejuvenated relic from an era when going to the movies was a big deal. He came in and sat down to visit. He couldn’t have been nicer or cozier or more congenial. I realized later that this is how Redford works: create rapport backstage that he hopes will carry over to the show. Later, in a documentary, I saw him do the same thing with Paul Newman on the set when they first met to film “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.”
Of course, it was bound to work with someone as star-struck as I was that night. Rapport came easily, and he gave us a glorious evening, full of clips from his great moments on the screen as well as glimpses of his life after that. Sundance, I learned, grew out of a shaky real estate venture that was saved by a creation far more important to Utah and the nation than any consumer constellation ever could have been, no matter how well done. A true naturalist, Redford talked about his commitment to land, rivers, beaches, mountains, sunshine and all the elements that make life in this world a source of beauty, grace and, sometimes, the sublime.
Afterwards, he introduced me to Sibylle Szaggars, saying with unmistakable exuberance, “This is my lady.” They were married, and she brought him back to Dallas in 2022 in The Way of the Rain—Hope for the Earth, an extravaganza at the Meyerson mounted in collaboration with Trammell S. Crow’s Earth X and the Dallas Symphony Orchestra. Redford read the narration that closed something like this: I do not believe that we go up to heaven except to return as the rain.
I wrote about that work for Patron Magazine and emailed Redford for a quote. Of course, he responded immediately. Here is some of what he said: “Scientists warn that our planet is approaching an irreversible tipping point…So yes, I feel a heightened sense of urgency, but I also have optimism and hope that we can come together and use tools available to reduce greenhouse gas emissions before it is too late. We can’t stop trying.”