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Growing up in the 1960s, I always though Charlton Heston was the epitome of a movie star. He was tall and handsome, with a granite chin and a sonorous voice full of gravitas. And his films were big and important: from Cecil B. DeMille’s 1956 The Ten Commandments to his Oscar-winning turn in 1959’s epic Ben-Hur . And when I got a little older, I realized he had a great body, which he showed off in nude scenes in the 1968 sci-fi classic Planet of the Apes  (which I actually saw twice upon its release). And when I worked at the Los Angeles Herald Examiner and Los Angeles Times I interviewed him several times. He could be intimidating. There was something very Moses-esque about him. He didn’t want to be kept waiting. When I was two minutes late calling him for an 8:30 a.m. interview, I apologized profusely that my toilet had overflowed that morning and I didn’t leave my apartment on time. He said in that famous voice, “That’s okay, Miss King. You are only two minutes late.” Gulp. ...