An interesting look at the life of an interesting personality. I don't understand the socialist attitude about money and investment. Mr. Hayden gives a good look at the attitude but doesn't clarify it.

I recommend his novel Voyage.

This book is as convoluted as its author. It maintains a flow of semi-stream-of-consciousness from start to finish, and what emerges are the memoirs of a man whose love of seafaring and considerable self-deprecation ("self-loathing" is a little too strong a term) has brought him to a sea voyage to Tahiti with a pick-up crew and his four children in violation of a court order. Hayden's story is it's own animal, going from the coasts of Massachusetts and Maine, to the forests of Yugoslavia, to courtrooms and congressional chambers and movie sets and finally to the high seas and South Pacific islands with a strain of fatalism and regret throughout. It should make for a downer of a read; instead, I found myself staying up and turning the pages to see what happened next. A great book.

I would like to add something to the excellent and perceptive reviews above. What came through so strongly is that life is messy, yet Hayden's remarkable self awareness didn't seem to help him. This is a fascinating look inside a big life. I found it valuable.

I believe it was 1959 and I had just returned from a month's cruise to the Tuamotus and Marquesas islands on the copra schooner Charlotte Donald. I was sitting at a table on the quay in front of the Hotel Le Grand when the schooner first appeared off Papeete. It sailed in smartly, picked up the Pilot, and docked stern first, as was the custom, at the concrete quay. The name "Wanderer" was nicely affixed to her transom. I lived in District Punavia, kilometer thirteen, next to Paul Gauguin's old home by the Thompsons. Several weeks later I would board the Wanderer after meeting her skipper at a party to buy some of the 16mm color film he had for sale. He was courteous, the children were well mannered, the library below was impressive, and his ship was clean and appeared to be able to sail on a minute's notice. We chatted for some time and he recounted some stories of his trip. We knew the same haunts in coastal California. We met a couple of more times at functions on the island. He seemed to be a cheerful and courteous person. He was a large man and deep voiced and I knew he was an actor, but that's about all I knew. Not long ago I had written my autobiography and had made a small mentioned of the encounter and the film. A friend who read my book asked if I had read Hayden's biography, which I hadn't. He suggested I do so, and last month I ordered it from Amazon. The book was disheartening for me to read. While he and I had many similarities in our lives (I wasn't an actor) and had been to many of the same places, we came away with massively different reactions. Mr. Hayden is a good writer and tells, especially about his life at sea, in an authentic style that kept me reading. I don't know if I would have finished if there weren't the similarity of our experiences. The sparse interjection of the third person voice over his normal narrative of first person was effectively used. The book and his life stand on their own merits and I make no judgment. He was first and foremost a seafaring man of unusual talents, and I wish I had visited him in the States in our later years. Mr. Hayden, you steered the course you wanted in recounting the voyages of your life. That's about all most of us could ask for. Rest in peace.

PS:
Spike Africa, his mate, came as a surprise, or else I had forgotten. Skip ahead twenty years and I chartered the "Spike Africa", a 70 foot schooner out of Newport Beach California somewhere around 1979 for a company off-site (the exact thing Hayden despised ... sorry). Bob Sloan built and then christened the boat "Spike Africa". The California yachting community all knew of Spike Africa the man, as a legend in the Pacific ocean, although I never knew any details of the legend.

Hayden was one of those force of nature types who, sadly don't exist in sufficient quantities to make the world a really interesting place. In this book, he tells his life story, while telling the story of his last voyage on the 100 foot schooner, Wanderer. His prose is lovely and has the rythm of the sea; like other great works of sea literature (like Moby Dick). I'll give a high point of his prose before I complain:

"What does a man need ---really need? A few pounds of food each day, heat and shelter, six feet to lie down in --and some form of working activity that will yield a sense of accomplishment. That's all --in the material sense. And we know it. But we are brainwashed by our economic system until we end up in a tomb beneath a pyramid of time payments, mortgages, preposterous gadgetry, playthings that divert our attention from the sheer idiocy of the charade. The years thunder by. The dreams of youth grow dim where they lie caked in dust on the shelves of patience. Before we know it, the tomb is sealed. Where then lies the answer? In choice. Which shall it be, bankruptcy of purse of bankrutpcy of life?"

Hayden was a child of the depression who worked his way out of bad circumstances by a combination of stubbornness, physique and leadership skill. He is eventually given a job a an actor, after being spotted by the media during a sailboat race in Glocester. He abandons this due to a love affair with an actress who fancies herself concerned with serious social issues. He joins the war and does OSS/CIA type operations in maritime support of partisans in Yugoslavia. He returns to his acting. Makes many movies. Marries an evil shrew. Divorces. Gets the kids. Chucks it all for a trip to Tahiti in his 100 foot yacht. All this is well and good, but the man reveals too much about himself. His self loathing isn't interesting. It is certainly not edifying, and though he seems to abundantly pity himself, I cannot feel sorry for him. The man had many fine opportunities. He had fine charachter qualities; I admire the fact that he chucked it all, just because he didn't like it. But he was not a fine man: he was petty and ugly -he couldn't even treat his own widowed mother decently, and though his ex wife was probably no better, I rather doubt as being around such a tormented spirit was good for his kids. In that way, he is a tragic figure; all the more tragic because he doesn't seem to realize it himself. It is no suprise he never did much with himself after he wrote the book. I don't know this to be true, but I suspect he drown himself and his self-loathing in booze.

Still, it is a beautifully written book. In a way, the book is his triumph over it all. It is doubtless a finer thing than any of the movies he made, and his great "the heck with it all" dramatic gesture is probably better than any he made on camera. I know I will read the book again. Perhaps when I am older I will think differently of Captain Hayden. Amusingly, a visit to Sausalito revealed that I had known Hayden as the demented General Jack D. Ripper in "Dr. Strangelove."