I once saw the flawlessly groomed Mr. Evans, on a side street in Beverly Hills: in the early 1970’s , black cashmere turtleneck sweater, black slacks and black Gucci loafers. And his signature over sized sunglasses. A bit of a shock to see him on foot and seemingly alone. He looked like a figurine, that belonged in a glass case, for display in a collection dolls, such was his aura preciousness, if that is the right word.
Don’t waste you time reading Brooks Barnes’ pallid’ obituary.
Read the ‘The Kid Stays in the Picture‘ to get acquainted with Mr. Evans as refracted through many re-writes . Arrogance and charm in equal measure, and almost, but not quite, endearing. A Hollywood huckster! Mr. Evans did the talking book that created conversations , or is the word ‘buzz’ more descriptive, but not quite contemporaneous?