Beverly Hills, October 1967. The Beverly Wilshire Hotel Ballroom was packed with 350 people for the British American Film Alliance Gala. This was one of those high society Hollywood events where British actors mingled with American stars where studios tried to forge international partnerships where everyone wore their best clothes and put on their best behavior.

 Dean Martin was there reluctantly. He didn’t love these formal events, preferred casual settings, but Frank had convinced him to come. said it was good for business, good for maintaining relationships with the British film industry. Shan Connory was there as the guest of honor. He was at the peak of his fame.

 James Bond had made him an international superstar. Dr. No from Russia with Love, Goldfinger, Thunderball, Each Film Bigger than the last. He was the hottest property in cinema, and he knew it. Dean had met Shawn a few times at industry events. They’d been cordial but never close. Different worlds, different styles. Dean was Las Vegas and martinis and easygoing charm.

 Shawn was Edinburgh and whiskey and intense method acting. The evening started smoothly. Dinner was served. Speeches were made about British American cooperation in film. Awards were presented. Everyone played their part. Dean sat at table 7 with Billy Wilder, Shirley Mlan, and producer Walter Mirish. They were having a pleasant conversation about upcoming projects when Shawn Connory walked over.

He’d been drinking, not falling down drunk, but enough that his Scottish accent had thickened, his movements were looser, and his filter was gone. “Dean Martin,” Shawn said, pulling up a chair uninvited. “Hollywood’s eternal playboy.” Dean smiled. “Shawn, enjoying the evening. It’s tolerable. These events are all the same.

 A lot of pretending, a lot of fakery.” “Speaking of which, I wanted to ask you something.” Dean’s smile didn’t waver, but something in Shawn’s tone put him on alert. Sure. What’s on your mind? How do you do it? Do what? Play the same character for 20 years. Never challenging yourself. Never pushing yourself. Never evolving.

 Just Dean Martin being Dean Martin over and over. Doesn’t that get boring? The table went quiet. Billy Wilder sat down his drink. Shirley looked uncomfortable. Dean kept his voice light. I play characters I’m good at playing. That’s not the same as playing myself. Isn’t it though? I’ve seen your films.

 Rio Bravo, Oceans 11, the Matt Helm pictures. You’re the same in all of them. The drunk, the charmer, the guy who doesn’t take anything seriously. That’s not acting. That’s just showing up and being yourself. Some people might call that having a consistent persona, a brand. Shawn leaned forward, his eyes sharp despite the alcohol.

 Some people might call that being a hack, a one-trick pony, someone who found something that works and never took the risk to be anything more. Dead silence at the table. Dean set down his fork slowly. Sean, I think you’ve had too much to drink. I’ve had just enough to say what everyone in this room is thinking. Dean Martin is a hack.

 A talented hack, I’ll give you that. But a hack nonetheless. He doesn’t act. He doesn’t create. He doesn’t transform. He just exists. He just is. And everyone pretends that’s enough. Billy Wilder stood up. Connory, that’s completely out of line. Sit down, Billy. Dean said quietly. Let him finish.

 Shawn smiled, pleased to have Dean’s attention. You want me to finish? All right, here’s what I think. You’ve wasted your talent. You could have been a real actor. You’ve got the looks. You’ve got the voice. You’ve got the charisma, but you chose the easy path. You chose to coast. You chose to be comfortable instead of great.

 And now you’re what, 50? And you’ve never challenged yourself, never done Shakespeare, never done serious drama, never pushed beyond your little comfort zone. You’re a nightclub singer who accidentally stumbled into movies and never bothered to learn the craft. The conversation at surrounding tables had stopped.

 People were listening now, watching, waiting to see how Dean would respond. Shawn wasn’t finished. I prepare for months for every role. I study the character. I research the period. I work with dialect coaches and movement specialists. I transform myself. That’s what real actors do. But you you read the script once, show up with a hangover, and do your drunk routine. It’s embarrassing.

 You’re embarrassing. Dean looked at Shawn for a long moment. His face was calm, unreadable. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, but it carried. You done? I’m just getting started. No, you’re done because now it’s my turn. Dean stood up. Several people at nearby tables turned their chairs to watch. Shawn, you’ve been in how many films? 10, 12? Most of them is James Bond.

 one character, one franchise, and you think that gives you the right to lecture me about range, about challenging myself. Bond is completely different from anything you’ve done. Bond is a character you play the same way every time. Same mannerisms, same delivery, same persona. The only thing that changes is the girl and the villain.

 So, don’t stand there and tell me I don’t have range when you’ve played the same secret agent five times in a row. Shawn’s face reened. That’s completely different. How? How is it different? You said I play the same character over and over. That I don’t challenge myself. But you’ve been James Bond for 5 years. That’s all anyone knows you for.

 That’s all anyone wants you to be. You’re so typ cast that studios won’t even consider you for other roles. So don’t lecture me about being one-dimensional. I’ve done other work. What work? You did Marne and nobody saw it. You did A Fine Madness and it bombed. The only films that succeed are your Bond films because that’s what you’re good at.

 That’s what people want to see you do. So, you’re just as much a hack as you think I am. You just have a British accent and a tuxedo. The room was completely silent now. Even the waiters had stopped moving. Dean continued, “You want to talk about craft? About preparation? Let me tell you about craft, Sean. I’ve been performing since I was 15 years old.

started in bars where if you didn’t connect with the audience in the first 30 seconds, they threw bottles at you. I learned to read a room, to adjust to the moment, to trust my instincts. That’s craft, too. It’s just not the kind they teach at drama school. By the time I got to Hollywood, I’d done thousands of performances.

 I knew how to work a camera, how to hit my marks, how to deliver a line 20 different ways depending on what the scene needed. I didn’t need months of preparation because I’d already put in my 10,000 hours before I ever walked on a sound stage. You prepare for months because you’re still learning. You study dialect coaches because you’re insecure about your accent.

 You work with movement specialists because you don’t trust your body. That’s not dedication, Shawn. That’s overcompensation. Shawn tried to interrupt, but Dean kept going. And let’s talk about your transformation as James Bond. You wear nice suits. You say clever lines. You kiss beautiful women and fight bad guys. That’s not transformation.

 That’s fantasy fulfillment. You’re playing every man’s dream of who they wish they could be. There’s nothing difficult about that. There’s nothing challenging about playing cool and suave and unbeatable. You want to know what’s actually difficult? Playing vulnerable, playing broken, playing someone who’s not cool or suave or in control.

 I did that in Rio Bravo. I played a man who’d lost everything and had to find his way back. A man who was ashamed and scared and desperate. That took real acting, Shawn. Not just looking good in a tuxedo. Dean’s voice had never risen above a conversational level, but everyone in the ballroom could hear him.

 There was steel underneath the calm. You called me a hack. Said I wasted my talent, that I took the easy path. But you don’t know anything about my path. You don’t know what I sacrificed to get here. what I gave up, what I lost along the way. I came from nothing. Son of an Italian immigrant barber in Ohio, worked in a steel mill, dealt blackjack in illegal gambling houses, sang in mobun clubs just to make enough money to eat.

 I clawed my way to Hollywood when everyone told me I wasn’t good enough, wasn’t handsome enough, wasn’t talented enough. You, on the other hand, got lucky. got cast as James Bond when bigger stars turned it down, became famous overnight, and now you think that gives you the right to judge how other people built their careers, to dismiss decades of work because it doesn’t match your narrow definition of real acting.

Shawn’s jaw was clenched. His hands were fists, but he had no response. Dean turned to address the wider room. I want everyone here to understand something. There are different kinds of acting, different kinds of performance. What Shawn does is valid. What I do is valid. They’re just different.

 Neither one is better or worse. They serve different purposes, appeal to different audiences. Shawn plays characters who are larger than life, aspirational. People go to Bond films to escape, to see a world where everything’s exciting and dangerous and ultimately controllable. That’s valuable. That’s important. I play characters who are more grounded, more human, more accessible.

 People come to my films and TV shows to relax, to feel like they’re spending time with a friend, to laugh and feel good. That’s also valuable. That’s also important. But Shawn can’t see that because Shawn measures everything by one standard, his standard. And anything that doesn’t meet his narrow criteria gets dismissed as hack work. Dean looked back at Shawn.

You’re young. You’re successful. You’re on top of the world right now. And you think that gives you wisdom, but it doesn’t. It just gives you arrogance. And arrogance makes you blind to other people’s worth. Someday, maybe 20 years from now, you’ll look back on this moment and realize what a fool you made of yourself.

 You’ll realize that attacking someone more experienced than you, someone who’s been successful longer than you’ve been alive, makes you look small, insecure, threatened. Because that’s what this is really about, isn’t it? You’re threatened by me, by my success, by the fact that I’ve stayed relevant for 20 years while you’re terrified that bond will end and you’ll have nothing.

 So, you attack me, try to diminish what I’ve accomplished, so you feel better about your own insecurities.” Shawn stood up abruptly. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I know exactly what I’m talking about. I’ve seen a hundred actors like you, young, talented, convinced they’re going to change cinema, convinced they’re artists with a capital A, and they look down on everyone who came before them, everyone who’s successful in a different way.

 And you know what happens to most of those actors? They flame out. They get typ cast. They get replaced by the next young thing. They spend the rest of their careers bitter and angry, wondering why nobody wants to work with them anymore. Is that what you want, Shawn? To be that guy? the brilliant actor nobody wants to hire because he’s too difficult, too judgmental, too convinced of his own superiority.

The room was riveted. This wasn’t just a confrontation. It was a masterclass in how to defend yourself with dignity and precision. Shawn’s face had gone from red to pale. He looked around the room, finally realizing how many people had witnessed this, how many industry professionals had just watched him attack Dean Martin and get thoroughly dismantled in response.

 Billy Wilder spoke up. Shawn, I think you should apologize. I don’t. You should apologize, Billy repeated firmly. You insulted one of the finest actors in this business. You did it publicly and cruy. You owe Dean an apology. And you owe everyone here an apology for making us watch this display. Shawn looked at Billy, at the faces staring at him, at Dean standing there calmly waiting.

 I spoke out of turn, Shawn said stiffly. That’s not an apology, Dean said. That’s a statement of fact. I apologize for calling you a hack. It was inappropriate. And And what? And you were wrong. Say it. Shawn’s jaw worked. This was costing him. Pride didn’t come easily to men like Shan Connory. But he said it. And I was wrong.

 About what specifically? About you? About your work? About your talent? Dean nodded. Apology accepted. Now, I suggest you go sleep off whatever you’ve been drinking. You’ll feel better in the morning and hopefully wiser.” Shawn turned and walked away stiffly. His date, a young actress, hurried after him. The room stayed silent until they were gone.

Then, slowly, people started applauding, just a few at first, then more, then the entire ballroom. Dean sat back down and picked up his fork like nothing had happened. “Now, where were we?” Billy Wilder was staring at him with something like awe. That was extraordinary. That was necessary.

 Guys like Shawn need to learn that success doesn’t give you the right to be cruel. You humiliated him. He humiliated himself. I just pointed it out. The rest of the evening was subdued. People kept coming over to Dean’s table to offer support, to say they admired how he handled himself, to share their own stories about Shan Connory’s arrogance.

One director pulled Dean aside. Shawn did the same thing to me on a Bond film. Told me I didn’t understand cinema, that I was just a commercial hack. I didn’t have the guts to stand up to him. Thank you for doing what I couldn’t. An actor said, “Sean told me I wasn’t a real actress because I did television.

 Said TV was for people who couldn’t make it in films. It crushed me. I’m glad someone finally put him in his place.” The stories kept coming. A pattern emerging. Shawn wasn’t just arrogant with Dean. He was arrogant with everyone he considered beneath him, which was almost everyone. The next morning, Dean woke up to his phone ringing.

 His agent, Herman Citroen. Dean, have you seen the papers? No. Why? Dean Martin confronts Shan Connory at Gala. James Bondar calls Martin a hack, gets destroyed. It’s everywhere, Dean. Great. Actually, it is great. The coverage is overwhelmingly positive. Everyone’s praising you, saying you handled it perfectly. saying Shawn was out of line.

 This is good for you. I wasn’t trying to make headlines, Herman. I know, but you did. And they’re good headlines. Trust me. Your phone’s going to be ringing off the hook with offers. Herman was right. By noon, Dean had gotten calls from three studios, all wanting to work with him, all praising how he’d handled himself.

 One studio executive said, “We’ve all dealt with Shawn’s attitude. Someone needed to call him out. You did it publicly, professionally, and perfectly. That takes class. That takes guts. We want people like you. But there was another call Dean wasn’t expecting from Shan Connory’s agent, Dennis Celinger. Mr. Martin, I wanted to apologize on Shawn’s behalf. He was drunk and out of line.

 He deeply regrets what he said. He already apologized last night. He’d like to apologize properly in person, sober. Would you be willing to meet with him? Dean thought about it. Why should I? Because despite what happened last night, Shawn respects you. He’s just not good at showing it. And because this could escalate into something uglier if it’s not resolved.

 Are you threatening me? No. I’m saying that Shawn is young and volatile and this story is hurting his image. He needs to make amends. The question is whether you’ll let him. Dean agreed to meet more out of curiosity than anything else. They met at the Polo Lounge 2 days later. Shawn arrived on time, sober, looking considerably more humble than he had at the gala.

 Thank you for agreeing to meet, Shawn said. Dean just nodded. Shawn took a breath. I was drunk and stupid, and I said things I didn’t mean or things I meant in the moment, but don’t mean now. I’m not sure which, but either way, I was wrong. Why’d you do it? Do what? Attack me like that? We barely know each other.

 I’ve never done anything to you, so why single me out? If you love Dean Martin and his stories, make sure you like and subscribe. Shawn looked uncomfortable because you represent something I’m afraid of. What’s that? Getting comfortable, getting complacent, doing the same thing over and over because it’s easy and it pays well.

 I’m terrified of becoming that. Of waking up 20 years from now and realizing I wasted my talent by playing it safe. And you think that’s what I did? I thought so. Now I’m not so sure. What you said about putting in your hours before you got to Hollywood, about learning your craft in bars and clubs.

 I never thought about it that way. I just saw the surface, saw you playing similar characters, and assumed you weren’t trying. I’m always trying. I just make it look effortless. That’s the skill. I understand that now. Or I’m starting to. They sat in silence for a moment. Dean spoke first. Shawn, you’re talented. Really talented.

 And you’re right to push yourself, to want to be more than just James Bond. But you can’t push yourself by putting other people down. That’s not growth. That’s just being mean. I know. Do you? Because you’ve apparently been doing it to a lot of people, directors, actresses, other actors.

 I heard about it all night after you left. You’ve got a reputation for being arrogant and difficult. That’ll hurt your career eventually, no matter how talented you are. Shawn winced. I didn’t realize it was that bad. It’s that bad. And if you want a long career in this business, you need to fix it because talent only gets you so far. How you treat people matters.

 How you make them feel matters. Word gets around and eventually people stop wanting to work with you. Is that advice or a warning? Both. Shawn nodded slowly. Can I ask you something? Sure. How do you stay humble? You’ve been successful for decades. You’re one of the biggest stars in the world, but you don’t act like it.

 You don’t have that arrogance. How? Dean thought about it. I remember where I came from. I remember working in that steel mill, singing in mob clubs, getting rejected by studios who said I’d never make it. Those memories keep me grounded, keep me grateful, keep me from thinking I’m better than anyone else. I should do that.

 Remember where I came from. It helps. But more than that, you need to respect the craft. all versions of it, not just your version. There are a thousand ways to be good at this job. Your way isn’t the only way. It’s just one way. The sooner you understand that, the happier you’ll be, and the better I’ll be.

 Maybe, or maybe you’ll just be less insufferable to work with. Either way, it’s an improvement. Shawn actually smiled at that. You’re funnier than I gave you credit for. I’m a lot of things people don’t give me credit for. That’s what you learn when you’ve been around as long as I have. People make assumptions. You can spend all your energy correcting them or you can just keep doing your work and let it speak for itself.

 I think I’ve been spending too much energy correcting assumptions. You think? They talked for another hour about acting, about fame, about the pressure of being on top and the fear of falling. It was the most honest conversation Dean had had with another actor in years. When they left, they shook hands. Not friends exactly, but not enemies anymore either.

 Thank you, Shawn said, for meeting with me, for not writing me off, for giving me a chance to apologize properly. Thank you for actually apologizing, for meaning it this time. That takes guts. Did it help the apology? Dean considered it helped. I’m still not thrilled about what happened, but I understand it better now, and I hope you learned something from it. I did more than you know.

 Over the next few weeks, the story faded from the headlines, but the impact lingered. Shan Connory started turning down interviews where he’d previously been critical of other actors, started saying nicer things publicly. Word got around that he’d changed, become more professional. Some people credited the confrontation with Dean.

 Others said Shawn was just maturing. Either way, something had shifted. Years later, in 1971, Shawn Connory walked away from James Bond. said he wanted to challenge himself, do different kinds of roles, prove he was more than just one character. He struggled at first, did some films that didn’t work, took roles that didn’t fit, but gradually he found his way.

 Built a career beyond Bond, became known as a serious actor who could do anything. In 1987, Shawn won an Oscar for The Untouchables. In his acceptance speech, he thanked several people who’d influenced his career. Near the end, he said something unexpected. And I want to thank Dean Martin for teaching me many years ago that there are many ways to be excellent in this profession and that judging others by your own narrow standard only makes you smaller. Thank you, Dean.

 Dean watched from home. He was 70 years old, mostly retired, spending time with his family. He thanked you, his daughter, Dena said. That’s nice. It is. Dean agreed. It took him 20 years, but he got there. got where to understanding to wisdom to the realization that success isn’t about being better than everyone else.

 It’s about being the best version of yourself. In 1990, Shan Connory did an interview with a British film magazine. They asked about his early career, about mistakes he’d made. I was insufferable, Shawn admitted, arrogant, judgmental. I thought I knew everything because I’d had some success. But I didn’t know anything about humility, about respect, about how to treat people.

 What changed? I had an incident in 1967. I insulted Dean Martin at a gala, called him a hack, said terrible things about his work, and Dean very calmly and thoroughly explained to me why I was wrong. Not just about him, but about my whole attitude. How did that feel? Humiliating at the time, but educational in retrospect.

 Dean showed me that you can be successful without being arrogant, that you can defend yourself without being cruel, that you can correct someone’s behavior while still treating them with dignity. I learned more from that one conversation than from years of drama school. Do you still think about it? All the time whenever I’m tempted to judge someone else’s work, whenever I feel superior, I remember standing in that ballroom drunk and stupid, attacking a man who’d accomplished more in one year than I’d accomplished in my entire career. I

remember how small I felt when he responded. How right he was. That memory keeps me humble. Did you ever reconcile with Dean Martin? We spoke a few days after. He was gracious, gave me advice, helped me understand what I was doing wrong, I’ve been grateful ever since. If you love these stories about how Dean Martin handled himself with class and dignity, make sure you like and subscribe for more.

 When Dean Martin died in 1995, Shan Connory sent flowers to the funeral. The card read, “Thank you for teaching me how to be a better man. You’ll be missed.” Shawn. At the funeral, Frank Sinatra mentioned the incident with Shawn. Dean never held grudges, never stayed angry. He’d tell you the truth, put you in your place if necessary, but then he’d give you a chance to be better. That’s who he was.

That’s what made him special. Shirley Mlan spoke, too. I was there that night when Shan Connory attacked Dean. I’ve never seen anything like Dean’s response. He defended himself completely, thoroughly, devastatingly, but without losing his temper, without being cruel, without stooping to Shaun’s level. He was angry.

 You could tell, but he channeled that anger into precise, measured words that made his point perfectly. That’s what Dean did. He made his point. He stood up for himself. But he also left room for Shawn to grow, to learn, to become better. And Shawn did become better. Partly because of what Dean taught him that night. The incident became Hollywood legend.

One of those stories that got told and retold. Sometimes the details changed. Sometimes the words were different, but the core remained the same. Shan Connory at the height of his James Bond fame called Dean Martin a hack. Dean Martin responded with a combination of grace, precision, and steel that put Shawn on his knees.

 And then Dean gave Shawn the chance to stand back up and become better. That’s the real story. Not just the confrontation, not just the put down, but what came after. The apology, the conversation, the lesson, the growth. Shan Connory learned something that night that shaped the rest of his career. That being talented isn’t enough.

 That how you treat people matters. That there are many ways to be excellent and judging others by your own narrow standard only diminishes you. Dean Martin taught him that. Not through lectures or preaching, but through example. Through how he handled himself under attack. Through the dignity he maintained while defending himself. Through the grace he showed in accepting an apology. That’s leadership.

 That’s character. That’s why people love Dean Martin. Not just because he was talented, but because he was decent. Because he treated people right. Because when someone attacked him, he defended himself without destroying them. Shan Connory could have been destroyed that night. His career could have been damaged.

 His reputation could have been ruined. But Dean didn’t do that. He made his point. He defended himself. He put Shawn in his place. But he didn’t go for the kill. Instead, he left room for redemption, room for growth, room for Shawn to become the actor and man he eventually became. That’s the lesson of October 1967. Not that Dean Martin won a confrontation, but that he won in a way that helped everyone involved.

 Shawn learned, the audience learned, Hollywood learned, they learned that success doesn’t give you the right to be cruel. They learned that defending yourself doesn’t require destroying others. They learned that grace under pressure is more powerful than aggression. They learned that teaching someone a lesson can also mean teaching them how to be better.

Dean Martin understood all of this instinctively. Didn’t need to think about it. Didn’t need to calculate his response. He just knew in his bones how to handle the situation correctly. That’s wisdom. Real wisdom. The kind you can’t learn in drama school or read in a book. The kind you only get from living, from struggling, from building a career over decades, from learning how to navigate relationships and conflicts and egos.

 Dean had that wisdom and he used it that night not just to defend himself but to teach, to elevate, to make the situation better for everyone. Shawn Connory called Dean Martin a hack in front of 350 people. Dean’s response put Shawn on his knees. But more importantly, Dean’s response helped Shawn stand back up a better person. That’s the real power.

 Not the ability to destroy someone, but the ability to change them. Dean Martin had that power. and he used it wisely. That’s why we remember him. That’s why we tell his stories. That’s why decades after his death, he’s still revered. Not just as an entertainer, but as a man who understood how to be decent even when others weren’t.

 How to be strong without being cruel. How to win without destroying. How to teach without preaching. That’s Dean Martin. That’s his legacy. And that’s why the story of that night in October 1967 still matters because it shows us a better way to handle conflict, a more dignified way to defend ourselves, a more productive way to deal with people who attack us, respond with truth, defend with precision, but leave room for redemption. That’s the lesson.

 That’s what Dean taught Shawn. That’s what Shawn learned. And that’s what we can all learn from their story. If you enjoyed this story about Dean Martin and want to see more videos about old Hollywood’s most fascinating moments, make sure to like and subscribe. Your support helps us keep bringing you these incredible stories.