Authors: Ted Heller
There was a small band. A drummer, a bassist, a pianist, a trumpeter and a saxophonist, and a guitarist.
The boat was going to pull into Florida the next morning, and after the show I was walking around, keeping an eye on everything. We were on the top deck . . . I saw Reina wheel Vic out. It was drizzling out and very windy and there was nobody else outside. All I could make out were a half-moon and shadows. She put the brake on the chair. I heard Vic trying to say something, something like, “Please . . . don't . . . please . . . oh, God . . .”
A few seconds later I heard steps coming up the stairs and another shadow appeared with Reina. It was a tall man, tall and round. The two of them whispered to each other, I couldn't hear a thing. The man was carrying something. It wasâI didn't make it out at the time but it all came out in the investigation afterwardâa trumpet case. He opened it and pulled out a pearl-handled gun.
I had to do something. I had to. This was it. But it was a gun! When Guy had called me from Los Angeles and told me to take this celebrity cruise and keep an eye on Vic, I had no idea it was going to be like this! You have to remember: I'm a klutz. I can barely tie my own shoes or balance a checkbook or do anything!
I started to step toward them, toward their shadows. I heard her say, “Don't use a gun! We'll use this.” And she took her belt off. They were going to strangle him and throw him overboard. But Floyd Lomax, who I recognized as the trumpeter in the band I'd seen an hour before, said, “I wanna use the gun. This is unfinished business.”
I was about ten feet away. I wasn't thinking . . . I was just scared. I said, “Freeze! Don't move.”
Floyd Lomax said, “Fuck off.”
Reina wrapped the belt around Vic's neck and I heard Floyd cock the gun. He was aiming it at me.
From out of nowhere, from out of the drizzle and the darkness and the wind, I saw another shadow . . . Floyd Lomax turned to it and the shadow kicked him in the crotch. I ran up to Vic's wheelchair and pulled Reina and her belt off of Vic. I heard Vic wheezing, gasping. I wrestled Reina to the ground, right near where Lomax was doubled over with the pain from the kick.
I was out of breath. Vic was okay. I think I was more out of breath than he was.
“Vic, it's me, Freddy. Freddy Bliss.”
“Ziggy's boy?”
“Yeah. Him.”
“Freddy!” he said feebly. A tear was in his eye. “Freddy . . .”
He smiled and reached for my wrist and gave it a squeeze.
In the small red
EXIT
light on the wall near us, I could make out the face
of the man who had kicked Floyd Lomax. It was the same old guy who'd stopped Vic's chair from rolling a few days before.
“Who are you?” this man asked me.
“My name's Freddy Bliss.”
“Ziggy Bliss's son?” he said. “I knew your father. Years ago.”
“What's your name?”
“Your father and Vic,” he told me, “used to call me Cat.”
GUY PUGLIA:
Freddy Bliss sure come through all right, didn't he? He come to Los Angeles a few weeks afterwards and the old gang showed him the best time he ever had. Reina and Lomax were in jail, and Vicki and Joe Yung and Ices Andy was taking care of Vic again. That Reynolds Catledge was a big hero too, he was all over the papers. I think it's the first time the guy ever cracked a smile in his life, and it must have lasted a whole week.
A few months after the cruise, me and Little Guy are in the shack. It's about six at night and the sun is setting. Little Guy, he always has the radio on, and him and me, we argue about the music. He listens to the rock 'n' roll thing and me, I like the oldies. So we were doing that and he was steamin' some clams and out our little window I see a van drive up. It comes to a stop and Joe Yung and Andy Ravelli get out. “Hey, Ices Andy!” I yell out, and the two of 'em look at me. Joe Yung opens up the rear door and meanwhile Ices Andy is helping Vic Fountain out of his seat. Joe pulls out the wheelchair and Ices Andy lifts Vic up and they put him in it, real delicate-like.
They wheel Vic up to the shack. Little Guy's mouth is dropped open, he can't believe it any more than me.
I hadn't seen Vic in a while, a really long while. And he didn't look too good.
“Hey,
paisan,
” I said.
“Goomba
Guy,” he says to me very weakly.
“Goomba
Guy.”
I put my hand on his shoulder and he put his hand on my hand. His hand was trembling and I started to tremble too. I clutched his hand with mine, I gave it a tight squeeze.
He nodded his head . . . he was lookin' at something. I turned around. He was looking at the swordfish on the outside of the shack. I saw half of his face smile. His hand and my hands were still clutching.
“That old fish,” he said. I could hardly hear him, I had to lean in real close.
“Hey, Gramps,” Little Guy said, and he kissed his granddad's forehead and Vic smiled again, as much as he could.
“What'll it be, Vic?” I said. I could hardly talk, the lump in my throat was so big.
Vic said something but I couldn't hear it. I says to him, “Can you say that again?” I leaned in real close so's I could hear him.
“A bucket of steamers,” he whispered, “and a lobster roll, please.”
He could barely eke it out.
Three minutes later, Joe Yung was opening a steamer for him and dipping it in the butter, and Ices Andy was putting it in his mouth. They were sliding down his throat like liquid pearls. Vic nodded. Little Guy put the tip of the lobster roll in his mouth and Vic chewed on it. We watched him. Vic widened his eyes and we could tell he wanted another bite. Hell, he wanted the whole goddamn thing! “This is marvelous,” he whispered to me slowly.
They wheeled him up to the beach. Little Guy got a blanket from the van and wrapped it around his
nonno
's shoulders. He was still eatin' that lobster roll.
He looked out at the beach. There were boys and girls, men and women, walkin' around, running around, in their bathing suits. Some kids were playing volleyball. The waves were big, big and very blue and gray, and they made that thunder sound when they smacked down, and it was the biggest reddest sunset you ever seen in your life. Vic looked out at the ocean and at that red sun settin' and he shook his head and said again, “This is just marvelous.”
When they put him back in the van I said to him, “You be sure and come here again.”
But that was the last time I ever seen my best friend. Five days later he was dead.
ARNIE LATCHKEY:
Vic's funeral was just as he would've wanted it, with more than just a touch of the opulent about it. Garish might even be the word. But Vic would've loved it, he would've eaten it up. Ernie Beasley even said at the memorial, “Vic said to me, âMake sure it's a blast, baby.'” They sent out invites to every single celebrity who ever was and most of 'em turned out. Vic, Shep Lane's kids told me, had wanted to be buried at the Pebble Beach golf course but they wouldn't allow that up there, those
momzers.
So Vic's buried next to Vince and his mother, at Forest Lawn, three generations of Fontanas all in a row. Vic's stone is made of Iranian turquoise, and once a week for the next thousand years, they'll polish it. The man took care of everything.
On the stone it says il ragazzo con i capelli blu come la notte.
Hunny Gannett was flown in from his hospital in Vegas. Guy and Edie wheeled him up to the tombstone and Hunny let drop a red rose.
Vic was paying all of Hun's hospital bills, it turned out. Danny said to me that Hunny will probably outlive all of usâhe just won't realize it.
Lulu stood with Sally. Sally had her arm around her. Did you know that
in the last three days of Vic's life, he'd moved back in with Lu? It's true. The woman finally got her wish, and he died in her arms.
Some wiseass in the press said that Vic had died as he sang: in his sleep. I gotta admit: It's a great line. But Vic Fountain wrung more out of one second of life, asleep or awake, than most people do in twenty years. It's just that, I admit it, sometimes he wrung it the wrong way.
He got about two minutes on the newscast the night he died. They played his records, his hits, for a few seconds. They showed him when he was a kid, they had a picture of him with that barbershop quartet trio he was in, then with the Don Leslie band; they showed clips from all the lousy movies.
“He was so gorgeous,” Estelle said to me.
Yeah. He sure was.
A few days after Vic was buried, his sister and his brother were going through the mansion in Beverly Hills. Vicki was there, so was Joe Yung. They came to the cellar door and couldn't open it. “Where's the key?” Cathy asked, and Joe Yung went to the liquor cabinet and found it. He tells them he's never been down there either. Joe opens the door and they walk down these steps, it's like a goddamn horror movie, boy, they don't know what or who's down there.
Joe Yung feels for a light switch and finds one and flicks it. One by one, lights go on. Their eyes were almost blinded by the glowing silver and white. There wasn't one speck of dust, and everythingâthe red leather stools, the long shiny counter, the tilesâwas perfect and in its place and the chrome was radiant.
“Oh, my God,” Cathy gasped. She and her brother Ray couldn't believe their eyes.
“It was a soda fountain,” Cathy told me. “A soda fountain right out of the 1930s. It was an exact copy of the one he used to work at. Jiggs Cudahy's place.”
When Vic died, my phone rang off the hook for a few days. Every vulture and jackal and termite wanted to know about Vic, about Ziggy, about Fountain and Bliss; they're asking me this question and that question. How'd they meet? When was it? Did they ever get along? What made them click? I realized, after the ten thousandth question, Hey, I don't even have to answer this stuff anymore. What the hell? So I didn't.
However, this one reporter asked me one particular question. And it was something that hadn't ever occurred to me, which is rare, because a lot occurs to Arnold Latchkey, which is maybe my problem.
He said, “A lot of entertainers are not very happy people. They're insecure and lonely, they're often miserable.”
“I'm well aware of it,” I said.
“A lot of comedians aren't very happy. Or funny.”
“I'm quite, quite familiar with it.”
And he asked me if I thought that Ziggy and Vic were funnyâthat
anyone
at all is funnyâbecause of the pain. Because of some searing pain deep inside. Do people become funny because of some inner agony, some gnawing emptiness or torment?
I said to him, “Who do I look like to you? Henri Bergson? Sigmund Freud you think I am? I'm just a goddamn business manager!”
After I hung up on the guy, I started thinking about it. Was it so? Is that what makes people funny? I've known a lot of funny people who weren't ever in any kind of agony, who weren't ever miserable or lonely, and I've known lots of unfunny people, believe me, who were.
So the answer to this $64 question is this: No, being miserable and knowing pain, torment, loneliness, and emptiness does
not
make you funny. It doesn't.
But, you know, it probably helps.
Enzo Aquilino
âvoice teacher
Barney Arundel
ânightclub owner
Ginger Bacon
âdancer, Vic's mistress
Harry/Harriet Bacon
âmusician
“Big” Sid Baer
âRosie McCoy's husband, a hotelier
Dr. Howard Baer
âgynecologist
Rosie McCoy Baer
âhoofer, entertainment director, and wife of “Big” Sid Baer
Ernie Beasley
âsongwriter, friend of Vic's
Billy and Mary Beaumont
âdancing partners
Hugh Berridge
âmember, with Teddy Duncan, Rowland Toomey, and Vic Fountain, of the Three Fours
Louis Bingham
âbandleader, radio host
Bobby Bishop
ârecord executive
Freddy Bliss
âZiggy's son
Harry and Florence Blissman
âZiggy's parents, entertainers
Ziggy Bliss, born Sigmund Blissman
âentertainer
Mike Boley
âguitarist
Thalia Boneem
âFloyd Lomax's girlfriend
Clive Bonteen
âplaywright, existentialist
Pernilla Borg
âZiggy's second wife
Archibald Bratton
âpresident of Bratton Theater Ventures
Buzzy Brevetto
âcomedian
Kid Burcham
âboxer
Betsy Cantwell
âactress, Danny McGlue's wife
Reynolds Catledge IV
âsoldier, employee of Vigorish, Inc.
Charlotte Charlot
âchanteuse, Nazi
Maeve Clarity
âJack Enright's secretary
Father Claro
âa Codport priest
Mickey Cohen
âmobster
Harry Cohn
âmovie mogul
George S. Collier
âdirector
Pete Conifer
âentertainment director, entrepreneur
Wanda Conifer
âPete Conifer's widow
Artie Conway
âTV producer
Mandy Crane
âactress
Angie Crosetti
âchildhood friend of Vic's
Jiggs Cudahy
âVic's boss, owner of a soda fountain and pharmacy
Betsy Cunningham
âGeneral Woodling's mistress
Pops Deegan
âtrainer
Fritz Devane
âsinger, actor, legend
Roger Dillard
âtrumpeter
Debbie Dubin
âSnuffy Dubin's wife
Snuffy Dubin
âcomedian
Teddy Duncan
âmember of The Three Threes
Jack Enright
âagent
Dick Fain
âvocalist
Ferdinand the Fantastiq
âmagician
Enrico Fermi
âphysicist
Tony Ferro
âVic's friend
Hilda Fleury
âcolumnist
Ursula Fischer
âphysicist
Bruno and Violetta Fontana
âVic's parents
Ray Fontana
âVic's brother
Sal Fontana
âVic's brother
Louise “Lulu” Mangiapane Fountain
âVic's first wife
Vic Fountain, born Vittorio Fontana
âentertainer
Vicki Fountain
âVic's daughter
Vincent Fountain
âVic's son
Tommy and Jimmy Fratelli
âmobsters
Tony Friedman
âLenny Pearl's producer
Hunny Gannett
âpugilist, raconteur, saloon keeper, greeter
Morty Geist
âpublicist
Joe Gersh
âagent at MCA
Clarence L. “Ned” Gilbert
âdirector
Hal Gordon
ârecord producer
Ezra Gorman
âmovie producer
Grayling Greene
âcolumnist
Seymour Greenstein
âchildhood friend of Ziggy's
Pip Grundy
âpolydactyl guitarist
Bobby Hale
âcolumnist
Tony Hampton
âgolfer
Vern Hapgood
âmusical arranger
Reina Harbin
âVic's third wife
Bud Hatch
âcolumnist
Jean Hatch
âBud Hatch's wife, also known as “SL”
Bernie Heine
âCatskills hotelier
Cody Lee Jarrett
âmusician
Timothy Jones
âFBI agent
Bertie Kahn
âpublicist
Gus Kahn
âmovie mogul
Ed Kapler
âTV director
Murray Katz
âagent at WAT
Faye Kendall
âactress
Donny Klein
âSally and Jack's son
Jack Klein
âreal-estate lawyer, Sally Klein's husband
Sally Klein
âZiggy Bliss's cousin, co-manager of Fountain and Bliss
Mickey Knott
âdrummer
Shep Lane
âaccountant, Fountain and Bliss's money manger
Veda Lankford
âactress
Arnie Latchkey
âco-manager of Fountain and Bliss
Estelle Latchkey
âArnie Latchkey's secretary and wife
Howard Leeds
âproduction chief
Don Leslie
âbandleader
Anna Lipscombe
âactress, Clive Bonteen's wife
Floyd Lomax
âbandleader
Lou Manganese
âAl Pompiere's son-in-law
Dominick Mangiapane
âLulu's older brother
Julie Mansell
âsinger
Louis B. Mayer
âmovie mogul
Taffy McBain
âactress, Vic's second wife
Ed J. McDowell
âjournalist
Danny McGlue
âjoke writer
Stevie McGlue
âDanny and Betsy's son
Marty Miller
âradio and TV producer
Jerome Milton
âHarry and Flo Blissman's agent
Larry and Stu Morrell
âmusicians
“Myrna”
âstripper
Cecil Newcombe
âradio host
Tony Newport
âgolfer
Barbara Nordquist
âactress, stripper
Casper Nuñez
âprivate detective
The O'Hares
âvaudevillians
J. Robert Oppenheimer
âphysicist
Lenny Pearl
âcomedian, fellow trouper with Harry and Florence
Westbrook Pegler
âcolumnist
Dolly Phipps
âZiggy's girlfriend, comedienne
Joan Pierce
âneighbor of Ziggy and Jane White
Al Pompiere
âmob boss
Jimmy Powell
ânightclub employee
Gino Puccio
âhotel employee, Guy Puglia's cousin
Kathy Puccio
âhis wife
Theresa and Paul Puccio
âtheir children
Gaetano “Guy” Puglia
âVic's best friend, restaurateur
Billy Quinn
âLenny Pearl's radio announcer
Ices Andy Ravelli
âbodyguard
Joe Ravelli
âices salesman, grandfather of Ices Andy
Carmine Ricci
âCathy Ricci's husband
Catherine Ricci
âVic's sister
Scarlet Robideaux
âFerdinand the Fantastiq's assistant
Billy Ross
âbandleader for Fountain and Bliss
Millie Roth
âsecretary at Vigorish, Inc.
Barry and Manny Singer
âwriters
Edmund Sligh
âradio actor, producer, director, and writer
Baldwyn Sloate
âFBI agent
Edie Smith
âGuy Puglia's wife
Hank Stanco
âagent at WAT
Sid Stone
âwriter
Rocco Straccio
âhoodlum
Emmett Strang
âmovie director
Clotilde Sturdivandt
âcouthier
Gershon Susskind
ârabbi to the stars
Cueball Swenson
âmusician
Merwyn Swick
âlawyer
“Steady” Eddie Teller
âphysicist, putative pugilist
John Timmons
âorderly
Rowland Toomey
âmember of the Three Threes
Constance Tuttle
âactress, lover of Vic
The Macy Twins
âsongstresses
Bubbles Van Boven
âwaitress
Joseph Weissblau
âJane White's father
Grace Wheelwright
âConstance Tuttle's roommate
J
ane White
âZiggy's first wife
Norman White
âwriter
Ruth Whitley
âvocalist
Billy Wilson
âVic Fountain's double
Earl Wilson
âcolumnist
Walter Winchell
âcolumnist
General Emmett Woodling
âU.S. Army general
Lucinda Woodling, née Hodge
âhis wife
Joe Yung
âVic's valet