
Today marks the second anniversary of the death of tough-guy actor Steve Oliver. I happened to call him for an interview, for the Jack Starrett bio that my pal Chris Poggiali and I are working on, in February of 2008, just as he got the devastating news that his body was riddled with cancer and he had weeks to live. I was stunned to hear it and wanted to let him go back to his business but he insisted on talking. Below are some of his comments, from probably the last interview he gave in his life.
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I just found out yesterday that I have five weeks to live myself. I have cancer. Not a thing I can do about it, but hey, it was a good ride. I'm gone, I'm history, there's nothing I can do.

[On SAVAGE ABDUCTION:] Oh, god. That was done for John Lawrence. His photographer weighted about 390 pounds and just sat on his camera and wouldn't move it. I fired him, and he said, You can't fire me, you're only an actor on the show. I said, You're fired or I quit, and I'm the lead, so let's see who weighs out in the balance here, you fat ass, you won't move your camera, you won't clean your lenses, why don't you just shoot stills? The guy was just horrible, what a horrible experience that film was.
I met Robert Tessier on that set. He was living on the other side of the mountains where we were shooting. He walked up and introduced himself; he had never done anything at that point. He was as goofy as they come, I tell you. He had a kid with some lady that lived in Philly. When you walked in the house you couldn't stand the odor because she had 150 dirty diapers in the bathtub. They were crazy people. I saw the kid years later and he was completely retarded.
They used to call us The Shooters, man, that was the name they gave us. We all hung out at the Brazarie (?) and whoever had the biggest check would pay for the drinks that night. Warren Oates, Billy Smith, myself, Jack, Leslie Kovacs, a lot of interesting people. We'd slop down the whiskey, and Bill Smith would ride his Hells Angels chopper Harley Davidson with the kicked-out springing front end right through the restaurant; we were crazy guys. And we got away with it, too. All the gunfights...


[On MOTOR PSYCHO:] Russ Meyer was a photographer in the military. He was such a lecher (laughs), he had those big eyebrows that curled up, he was just disgusting. A woman walked by him and saliva would come out his eyeballs, the guy was a real luster, boy. I liked him because he was a very good director, he really knew how to work with his cast and crew, made them feel special, but he was such a character. He would look at a woman with that glint in his eye, like looking at a steak after not eating for five days.
MOTOR PSYCHO was my first shot as an actor, and it's what got me Peyton Place. Alex Rocco had his agent put up a piece of that film at 20th Century Fox for the part of Lee but they liked me. His loss, my gain.
Funny you're calling me today, you're talking to a dead man. It's really interesting, I haven't felt the full impact, I just got out of the hospital this morning. I'm going to do the best I can to fight it, because I'm not going to go through all the chemo, I've seen what happens to my friends who went through that. I'm going to fast for maybe 25 or 30 days and drink a lot of water and take lots of vitamins and herbs and see if the body can reverse the problem.
I just finished a screenplay and was going to call Paul Lewis. I got a pre-distribution agreement through Shoreline. They just finished a picture called LA LINEA with Andy Garcia. I just connected with their company in the last five days, and they want to shoot it.

You know, the bedside manner of this little Japanese doctor, he was a pistol. He came in around four o'clock in the morning and said, You know, you don't seem to understand what's going on here. I kind of looked at him and I went, Well, I've got this infection from where my gall bladder was removed. He said, An infection? You have cancer throughout every square inch of your body. Wow, why don't you hit me with a good left hook? He said, You need to know that because you need to become proactive and start fighting it. That came out of nowhere. He said I was misdiagnosed and they told me I had cancer was I was in that hospital three months ago. So I knew there was like a cover-up, because I'm a very bright guy, I don't smoke or drink; haven't even taken an aspirin in probably 35 years I've been sober. I looked him dead in the eye and said, Nobody ever told me I have cancer. He said he talked to Dr. Sernick and he told him you had cancer throughout the whole region where your gall bladder was. I said he never told that to me.
6 comments:
Interesting read. Thanks!
Great and clearly rare interview.
Steve sounded like a straight-up guy.
Hope's he's RIP'ing.
RIP Steve. We hung together for years in the late 80's. Not much to do with Hollywood around that time. Just the daily living life. Learned quite a few things from you. I remember all these stories that you told us, you didnt tell us that you had done so many movies though! I see that you finally made it to the mountains of Big Bear.Good for you! Thanks for posting this interview,,,I can just hear Steve's gruff voice!
Stephen Oliver was my brother and we miss the guy so much. He was a hellava story teller. We thought he made them up...but found out they were all true!
Miss you brother!
William Shook said Steve was a great guy. We were in Mr. Olds class together Mechcanical Drawing at Pacific High School in San Bernardino. We sat next to each other so I got to know him real well. When I discovered he was in Peyton Place on T-V I told all the friends he was in the movies. I was on Jury duty in Sann Bernardino. His mother was in our group and she asked the Judge if she could be excused because her son (Steve was appearing in a play in L.A., he said yes. RIP Steve.
I met Mr. Oliver once in Los Angeles in 1979-80. I was pumping gas into my '67 Dodge Coronet 500 and behind my back heard a man's voice say "Hey, dude." It wasn't a particularly friendly-sounding voice, so I ignored it. But then it came again, louder and clearly directed my way, so I turned around.
"Hey, you're Steven Oliver," I grinned, moving over to him and extending my hand.
"I like your car," he smiled genuinely. I mentally noted that he looked shorter than he appeared on TV.
We spoke for some time about his career, his current endeavors (some sort of charity work, as I recall), and his friend Steve McQueen (who was in Mexico for cancer treatment). Despite my first impression, Mr. Oliver turned out to be a pleasant, engaging fellow. I'm happy to have met him.
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