Bachelor #1, Lance Remmer, is too tense and guarded and conservative — because he wasn’t familiar with the name Farrah he asked host Jim Lange to repeat it. He’s basically a dick. The ridiculous yokel sideburns won by Bachelor #3, whose name sounds like Paul Knuckles, are instant disqualifiers. He picks his feet, comes from Tobacco Road. The only half-decent contender is Bachelor #2, an actor-artist named Joey Hooker with an easy way and a nice smile.
If I’d been asked what time of day I prefer, I would have said early morning and late evening, because they’re both peaceful and tranquil due to most of the people in your time zone being fast asleep and the sounds of traffic being at a minimum. I’m also a big fan of dusk.
22 year-old Farrah Fawcett, fresh from Corpus Christi, Texas, had arrived in Hollywood the previous year at the encouragement of agent David Mirisch. A contract she’d signed with Screen Gems was paying her $350 a week. She was making commercials, and would eventually break into guest-starring roles on TV serials. The famous poster shoot that launched her career wouldn’t happen for another seven years.
