In Pieces(81)

Perhaps Joy was automatically charmed by this kind of man, but when the press started reporting about Burt’s adventures with other women, it was my grandmother who made sure I knew about it, sometimes calling early in the morning to report what the National Enquirer had printed, describing the included photos. If I avoided talking to her on the phone, then she’d mail them to me, thick envelopes filled with carefully underlined articles, stories that always included my name. Not one missed her attention or, ultimately, mine. At first I was annoyed and aggravated, then I just tried to ignore her. With Burt, I held my head up, too proud to say anything. I’d think, What the hell, I’ve been on countless fan magazine covers with stories linking me to people I’ve never met. I didn’t just fall off that godforsaken turnip truck. But part of me knew it was all true. I felt duped and a fool.

A rare hug from Joy at a 1977 family gathering.





I never mentioned it and neither did he, but those were usually the times when Burt would toss gifts at me, some of them very expensive things that felt as though they were meant for someone else. Once he gave me a yellow Corvette, reminiscent of the long-ago blue Ferrari and equally ridiculous. Why give me a small sports car with virtually no back seat? I’d never expressed any interest in cars and had two young children, plus I was frequently expected to chauffeur Burt’s Great Dane, Bruiser, around with me during the day because the dog got lonely. Can you picture what the four of us looked like in that car?


Though Sybil had aired to great acclaim, Smokey had not been released yet and the industry didn’t know what to make of me. To everyone’s amazement I had somehow become a strong actor, but if Sybil was any example, then I was definitely not pretty enough to be leading lady material. Not only that, but to play across from most of the leading men at that time, I appeared too young, and certainly not sexy enough—whatever sexy is. How long could I wait for the right project? I couldn’t let myself sink back into a sitcom, but I had to earn a living. I had to find a way to tread water, to keep afloat until I could catch another project, a place where I could do the work I now knew how to do.

My next film was not that. The script wasn’t very good and while I worried that I wasn’t moving forward, I didn’t think I’d be going backward either. Plus, sometimes you have to do the best you can with what you’ve got, and that was Heroes. So when Burt was on location in Texas filming Semi-Tough, I agreed to do a film co-starring Henry Winkler, fresh from his Fonzie success.

Because of my work in Stay Hungry and then Sybil, coupled with the fact that I was now starring opposite the very popular Mr. Winkler and dating America’s current heartthrob, I was informed that a new magazine wanted to do a cover story on me. It seemed like something I should do, like an important part of my transformation. But how would I tell Burt and how would he react to the fact that I’d agreed to do an interview with People magazine? I worried and stewed, let days go by, phone call after phone call, not wanting to face his wrath, and when I look at the childish angst written in my journal, I wonder what on earth the fuss was all about. On my part. On his. I know that he always worried about the press, felt that they were out to get him, to uncover something that would be hurtful or destructive. And there had been times, on other films, when potentially disastrous stories had been printed, so maybe he was feeling the scars from that. Maybe he was afraid that I’d inadvertently say something that the journalist could twist, or perhaps he didn’t want to be linked with me any more than he already was. Or maybe it was because he didn’t want the focus, any focus, on me.

I wouldn’t rely on my memory to accurately recall his reaction, but in this case, I wrote it down. “Why?” he asked. “What about me? Aren’t you concerned about me? How could you do that? You just want your face on the cover of some damn magazine. Why didn’t you ask before you agreed to do it? I’m disappointed in you.” Burt didn’t call me a smart-ass like Jocko did, but even without that, I felt fifteen again. It was our first real fight, and the tiniest thimbleful of my anger seeped out, telling him that I thought it was my job to help promote the film, that I’d been on lots of covers and didn’t give a “darn” (I wasn’t allowed to swear) about being on another one… which wasn’t completely honest. The following day, I profusely apologized, and he accepted.

I did the People cover story dated April 25, 1977, and only now have I read the three snide pages, beginning with the title “The Flying Nun Grows Up: Sally Field Makes a Movie with The Fonz and Has a Fling with Burt. When Sally Field Wanted to Kick the Habit, Burt and Henry Were Waiting.” Maybe I should have listened to Burt.


Out of nowhere, and not long after both of our films had wrapped, Burt became possessed with the idea of directing William Inge’s Bus Stop, with the role that Marilyn Monroe had famously played in the movie to be performed by me. I was flattered at first, but when I realized that the play was to take place in a run-down, tin-roofed theater in Jupiter, Florida, on precisely the same date that Smokey and the Bandit was going to open, I thought perhaps it wasn’t the best time for either of us to be doing regional theater. He was outraged. How could I do this to him? I had agreed to do it. I couldn’t pull out now. Plus, he had asked my mother to play Grace, the waitress in the bus stop café, a lovely role. It was either incredibly generous or a way to ensure that I truly couldn’t walk away from the production. And even though, in the back of my mind, I suspected that Burt had some ulterior motive behind this remote production, I didn’t walk away but flung myself at it, conjuring up some version of Cherie, the sexy small-time chanteuse, while all the time squelching the piece of me that kept saying I needed to be somewhere else, availing myself of the energy that was finally coming my way.