Paul Newman is not in the habit of lingering over his fan mail. But one admirer's missive is framed and hanging in the bathroom of his Westport, Connecticut home.

"It's one of the most wonderful letters I've ever received in my life," says the 75¬year-old actor. "It goes, 'Dear Mr. Newman, I love your salad dressing; My girlfriend says you're a movie actor too. Are any of your pictures out on video yet?' "

Leave it to Newman, whose 55th film "Where the Money Is" opens Friday in area theaters, to be more delighted by the success of his salad dressing than by his status as one of Hollywood's last remaining icons.

"The fact that he's taken something he loves - namely popcorn and salad dressing it into a business that's earned $90 million, all to charity, is mind-boggling to me," says "Where The Money Is" co-star Linda Fiorentino. "Even if he wasn't an actor, he'd be a phenomenon."

Today the phenomenon looks tired. Whispery-voiced and private, Newman is that rare movie star who seems, in person, almost identical to his on-screen personality. He is tall and thin, with pale blue eyes, a dry sense of humor and an air of unmistakable self-confidence. If he seems a rebel on screen, he isn't that much different off-screen.

Newman hates giving interviews and doesn't do much to disguise that fact. "I'm surprised by how many stupid questions I get," he admits during a 12-minute question-and-answer session at Manhattan's swanky Regency Hotel. "You can only be as good as the question. So you get angry if the questions don't get your juices going. You can turn out to be a pretty dull boy."

Part of the he reason he hates interviews is that he objects to his private life becoming fodder for the tabloids. "You can't really appreciate your anonymity until you've lost it", he says. 'People say that's sour grapes but it really isn't. To be able to walk down the street without people paying attention to you is a real blessing. And you lose it when you become an actor."

A slight smiles creeps across his face. "Fortunately, I get recognized less and less these days. People just don't care that it's me, and I love it."

Interest in Newman might be stirred up a new by "Where the Money Is," a heist flick in which he plays a bank-robber faking a stroke in order to get out of prison. While he's recuperating at a small¬ town clinic, a nurse (Fiorentino) sees through his ruse and convinces him to help her pull a bank job.

The role reminded Newman of some ,of his trademark characters. ''When I read the script, I flashed back to guys like Fast Eddie [in 'The Hustler'), Henry Gondorff [in 'The Sting') and Butch Cassidy in ['Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.') I like those kinds of guys. Larceny is always fun to play."

Ask Newman if he's a bit of a rascal in real life, and he says, "I ain't talkin'."

Preparing to play a man who has to convince doctors and prison officials that he's brain dead was no easy task for the actor. Initially, he didn't think he would be able to remain immobile for hours on end. He explored the prospect of using prosthetic devices or receiving daily novocaine shots.

"He experimented for nine days," recalls director Marek Kanievska. "I felt that wasn't the way to go and after awhile, he felt that way too. He realized he had to trust his own inner stillness. "

For the early scenes of the movie, Newman looks older than his 75 years. Slumped in a wheel-chair with his face a frozen mask, the actor proves, once and for all, that his talent doesn't begin and end with his good looks.

"He's a great actor and great actors don't have any vanity," says Kanievska. "He was never once concerned with the way he looked. He was just excited about the challenge of going from playing brain dead to being dynamic."

On the set, Newman went out of his way to make his decades-younger co¬stars feel comfortable. "He doesn't like people calling him Mr. Newman," says Fiorentino. "He told everyone, 'Just call me Lard-Ass.' Off course the next day, all of the crew started calling him, 'Mr. Lard-Ass.'

"But he really doesn't see himself as a movie star. And I've worked with people, who walk on the set and do act like movie stars. They let everyone know they have the power, But not him. He hates the extra attention.

''While everybody else was calling him Mr. Newman, I called him Paul. I said, 'Don't keep me waiting, Paul! Get out of that trailer!' And he loved it. He just wants to be treated like everybody else."

A veteran race-car driver, Newman admits that one of big draws of the movie was being asked to get behind the wheel for a number of car-chase sequences.

"I only did the easy stuff," he insists. "There's so many guys out there who can do the tough stuff better than me."

Does Newman have plans to race again?

"I'm not talkin' about that either," says the actor who cracked a rib during the qualifying round of his last race two years ago.

A subject Newman warms to is his marriage to actress Joanne Woodward. They met in 1952, when both were appearing on Broadway in a production of William Inge's "Picnic." The couple wed in 1958, made ten movies together and produced three daughters. (Newman also had three children with his first wife Jacqueline Witte, among them Scott Newman who died at the age of 28 from an accidental overdose of alcohol and valium.)
The secret of the Newmans' long-lasting union is a simple one: "Joanne is the love of my life," he says. Living with Woodward has been "difficult, tough, cantankerous, delicious, lusty, disagreeable, fun. It's a pleasant spectrum to go back over."

Sometimes, Newman is surprised that their marriage has lasted as long as it has. "Roddy McDowell came to our house to shoot a picture of Joanne for a book he was doing. She told him the reason she stayed with me all these years was because I still made her laugh. I don't know whether to be offended or not. But I think it's a good thing."

Newman is one of the few living legends who has never written an autobiography. Years ago, he submitted to hours of interviews with screenwriter Stewart Stern for a proposed book that never saw the light of day.
'We have 1 0,000 pages of interviews about my life going all the way back to grammar school," says Newman. "There's stuff in there about the War and my early days in Hollywood. But it's so boring. I have no handle to grab it all by. It's just a chronicle of what I did."

The chronicle of Newman's life begins in the well-to-do Cleveland suburb of Shaker Heights. His mother was a housewife and his father owned Newman-Stern, the largest sporting goods store in the Midwest. During World War II, the actor served in the Pacific as a radioman third class in the Navy Air Corps. Next came a four-year stint at Kenyon College.

After his father's death, Newman returned to Cleveland to manage the family business. He didn't last long. He was so depressed he left home again for the Yale School of Drama and, eventually, the Actor's Studio where he studied alongside James Dean, Geraldine Page and Marlon Brando. The family business was sold and Newman, despite early struggles, turned out to be extraordinarily successful as an actor.

After starring in "The Silver Chalice" (1954), a movie Newman detests, he went on to play meaty roles in pictures like "Cat on A Hot Tin Roof (1958), "The Hustler" (1961), "Hud" (1963), "Cool Hand Luke" (1967) "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid" (1969), ''The Sting' (1973) and "The Verdict" (1982 ), one of his favorites. In 1986, he won his first Best Actor Oscar for "The Color of Money."

Despite such a distinguished career, Newman doesn't like strolling down Memory Lane. Instead of reminiscing about his films, he'd rather pay tribute to his co-stars.

Of his leading ladies, he most fondly remembers his "Nobody's Fool" (1996) cohort Jessica Tandy. "She was just this extraordinary presence," he says. "She knew she was going into the hospital [for chemotherapy] right after the film was over, and gave no indication of that. She was generous, straight¬forward and special."

Another favorite co¬star of Newman's was Elizabeth Taylor, with whom he made "Cat On A Hot Tin Roof" (1958) Taylor's then-husband Mike Todd died during filming and after a brief production shut-down, she returned to finish the movie. "She was extraordinary," he recalls. "Her determination was stunning."

Newman possesses a good deal of determination himself. While he has no new movies in the pipeline, he says he's "actively pursuing" a number of projects. A few years ago he considered retiring, but he's since thought better of it.

"I love acting, but only when I'm cooking at it," he says. "You know if you're cooking , whether you're playing baseball or just romping with your grandkids. So, acting still gives me a great sense of satisfaction. It's like watching a red-tail hawk chasing a mouse. I still get a big charge from it."