While I remember enjoying this book, it was too long ago to accurately rate.
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This is one I would suggest listening to rather than reading as Bob Evans’s unique vocal stylings add another level of entertainment (or check out the animated documentary of the same name). He shares his rise from a kid selling typewriters in old New Yawk to running Paramount studios and subsequent downfall in the style of a classic Hollywood biopic. You see all the broads and two bit actors he met along the way. Did he work hard? Heh heh, No: he worked *damn* hard. But he had an enemy just waiting for the right time to trip him up and bring him down: himself. He reveals every future star he discovered, every faded star he saved from obscurity and how many of them turned his back on him later. 
Don’t let those last parts make you think this is a bitter sob story. He relates this all with a sense of pride in his accomplishments but also amazed and amused at the crazy twists and turns of fate that even let it happen. 

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An absolute hell of a ride
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Icky. Robert Evan’s, born in 1930, was the kind of man who called women dames and broads and thought of them as conquests not colleagues. He was “of a time” in Hollywood long before MeToo and, boy, are some of his recollections difficult to read today. Does it tell an interesting story about the 60s-90s in Hollywood? Yes. Do you like Evans? No. Womanizer, drug addict, narcissist to a tee. To make it worse, in 2013 he adds a few thin “updates” to the end that just double down on his love-affair with himself. If you’re a white man over the age of 80, you’ll probably love this. Otherwise, hard pass.
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