Hold the Roses (37 page)

Ethel Merman called me one day. She said she was in Washington,
and that she was coming to see the show that night. She wanted me to
meet her at the stage door, in her limo. She didn't want to come backstage.
So we did the show that night, I got dressed and ran out to the waiting
limo. I got in and the driver started driving. Ethel was sitting there and I
could tell she was angry.

I said, "Hi," gave her a hug.

She looked at me and said, "How dare you do this show? It's not
good. You have nothing to do in it. Don't open in New York like this." Talk
about being hit with a baseball bat.

I said, "They're rewriting every night and we keep changing every
night. Maybe they'll get into shape. We've got to try. I know Joan is trying
so hard to make it good. She has everything wrapped up in this show."

Ethel said, "What about you? You're going on Broadway. The last
time you were on Broadway, you were in a big hit, Top Banana, and you
were great in that show. Now you go in with this?"

I said, "Well, I'm trying!"

Ethel said, "You can't do anything unless they write it for you... and
they have written nothing for you to do. They're wasting you."

By now the limo had arrived at some apartment building-I figured
Ethel was staying there. The apartment belonged to a friend of hers, and
Ethel used it while she was in Washington.

We walked in. I was floored: Maureen Stapleton, Jason Robards, and
George Grizzard were sitting in the living room having a drink. They all
looked at me like I had killed somebody.

Maureen said, "You know better than to be on stage for fifteen minutes and not utter a word. What's the matter with you?"

I just stood there, with my mouth open.

George Grizzard said, "You can't open in New York with that show as
it is."

Then Maureen started to talk about the "takes" I did on The Dick Van Dyke Show. One in particular-I call it the "priest take." I walk into
the Petrie house and say, "Where is this tall, good looking..."-and I see
that he's a priest-"...priest you wanted me to meet?" It was a great take
and I knew what Maureen meant.

I felt so foolish, because I knew they liked me and wanted the best for
me! So we talked and had a few drinks-I had my iced tea-and Ethel
said, "I'm going to write Alex Cohen a letter and tell him to take care of my
baby. Maybe it will help."

I said, "Would you do that?"

She said, "Why not? He knows you know what you're doing or he
wouldn't have put you in the show... but you've got to do more in that
show. You're wasted. If they don't do something, quit!"

I said, "Okay," and I hugged them all and thanked them. They were
so great to say those things... especially Ethel.

We played two weeks. Never the same show-new lines, new scenes
every night, and it went on like that until we got to New York. We never
"froze" the show, as they say.

Renee and I became very close friends, and we'd have lunch and dinner together. I was staying at my mother's in New Jersey, so I would drive
in every day. We started doing previews, and for some reason the show was
actually getting to be something. They extended the previews, because we
were sold out every night and it looked like it would make it.

Ethel called me every day at the theater to see if my part was getting
any bigger or better. The first time she called, the doorman called me and
said, "Some nut on the phone wants to talk to you, says she's Ethel Merman."

I said, "It is Ethel Merman." He almost died.

One day she said, "I'm having some work done on my teeth, I don't
think I can make the opening."

I said, "Oh! You have to!"

She said, I won't be able to smile, is my front tooth."

I said, "Look, you do what you think best. I don't think you'll have to
worry about smiling-it ain't that funny."

So we finally opened. Every comedian in the world was there, and all
of them came back to my dressing room. Ethel was there, of course, as well
as Kay Medford, Betty Bruce, and on and on. What a night. There was an
opening-night party at Benihana's. The invitation said, "You and a guest
are invited..."

I said to Bill Loeb, who had come in for the opening with my friend Vince Miranda, "What the hell is that? `You and a guest'? My name is
above the title. I'm one of the leading stars. My mother and daughter are
here for the opening, my friends are here. What am I going to do?"

Vince said, "Take it easy. You and I will go to the party and Bill will
go to my hotel and get an open bar and some food sent up and you can
invite anyone you want. You'll have your own party."

I looked at him and said, "Thanks, Vince, I owe you a big one."

My mother didn't like the show. Noop thought it was all right. Vince
and Bill thought it wasn't bad...but you could tell, it wasn't all that great.

I got dressed and told everybody about my party ... gave them all the
information. And I left with Vince to go to the so-called cast party at
Benihana's.

Ethel was there with two guys, and we sat with her. I think we stayed
about a half hour. We told Ethel about our party, and she said, "Let's go!"
So we went to the Park Lane, where Vince was staying. He had a very large
suite. Bill Loeb was there overseeing everything. Food was there, an open
bar and pretty soon it was jammed with all the kids from the show. It was
a helluva party.

When Ethel left, Vince and I walked her to the door. She looked at
Vince and said, "Don't you hurt my baby in any way or I'll cut your balls
off' Poor Vince, he didn't know what to say or do. We all hugged one
another and went back to the party and listened to the radio reviewswhich were bad. Again, they seemed to just pick on Joan, never saying
anything about the rest of the cast. Finally everybody left and Vince drove
me home to my mother's house in Jersey in the limo.

The reviews came out in the papers the next day and they ripped it
apart. So we knew it was a matter of time. I felt sorry for Joan and Edgar,
because they had worked so hard and tried their best to keep it running. If
I remember correctly, I think we played two weeks and that was that.

Noop and I went back to California and we were glad to be home... so
was Vince!

Re Pussycat Reatas o ad CYiKu,

I met Vince Miranda when I got home from Pheasant Run in Chicago.
Barbara Corday, who was my publicity girl-one of the best-and later
went on to be the head of television programming at Columbia Pictures,
called me to go to an opening in San Diego at a little theater called the Off
Broadway. She was doing publicity for the theater, which was owned by
Vince Miranda.

I said, "Okay," and drove to the Los Angeles airport. This man met
me at the parking lot of the airport and hurried me to the gate. He was
about five foot four, dark hair, kind of wiry, about 45 years old, kind of
Italian-looking-it turned out he wasn't Italian. Martha Raye was at the
gate, Audrey Christy, Harry Guardino and lots of actors. There were about
thirty of us. We got to San Diego. The flight took about fifty minutes.
When we landed and went out front, there were limos waiting to drive us
to the theater. The guy from the parking lot came into our limo. I found
out that he was the owner of the theater and that he owned all of the
Pussycat Theaters in California-there were about nineteen of them at
that time. He was very pleasant, charming, had a good sense of humor... and
he was short! But I liked him.

We went to the theater. It was an adorable little theater, about five
hundred seats. We saw Cactus Flower. After the show, we went to some
big hotel where Vince had a large buffet set up. It was a very nice evening,
but I had to take the last flight home, which meant I had to leave fairly
early. Vince said, "Don't worry, I'll drive you to L.A. so you can pick up
your car." So I stayed another hour and had a lot of fun with every body. I said good night and told Vince again that I didn't want to stay
too late.

We got in his car and chatted about everything on the way back to
L.A. He loved theater-although he owned the Pussycat Theaters, his real
love was legitimate theater. To him the Pussycat Theaters were a business
and that was it...even though they had made him a millionaire. But he was
a great sport and, as I always said, "the last of the big spenders."

He drove me to the airport parking lot. I got my car, thanked him,
and drove off.

The next day Barbara Corday called and said Vince wanted to ask me
out on a date.

I said, "Why doesn't he call me himself?"

She said, "He's kind of shy."

I said, "Get out of here!"

She told me that he really was shy.

I said, "I have to go to a premiere tonight. Ask him to call me and
we'll go to this thing together."

She said, "Great. I think he likes you."

I said, "Swell."

I told Noop. All of a sudden she got very excited that I was going out
on a date.

After a few minutes, Vince called and said, "We'll go out and have
dinner."

I said, "I have tickets for a premiere tonight at the Pantages. Why
don't we go to that and then have dinner?"

He said, "Fine," and told me that he'd pick me up at 7:00.

By 6:45, Noop was looking out the window for Vince to see what
kind of a car he was driving. At 6:55, she yelled, "He's here and he's driving
a Jag!" So I guess that made it fine with her.

He rang the bell and I answered it. He dressed very well... and he was
short! I figured I'd better wear flats, so we wouldn't look like Mutt and Jeff.
We drove to the theater. It was jammed with photographers, fans, and, of
course, Army Archerd at the mike introducing everybody. Archerd is the
official MC at all premieres.

He called me up to the mike. Vince sat back and of course Army said,
"Who's your date?"

I said, "Vince Miranda."

Army said, "Oh! Hi, Vince." And that was that.

After the premiere, we went to Dan Tana's for a bite to eat, and we
talked and talked. He was great to talk to, and he loved the idea that we
were going out together. He took me home and we said good night... no
kiss, no nothing. I relaxed. We became very good friends... no romance,
and I was grateful for that. We liked being together and he loved the idea
that everybody knew me and came over for autographs. He was out with a
celebrity. Best of all, we went to all of the big affairs, the $1,000-ticket
dinners, like the Thalians annual affair and the St. Jude Hospital affair that
Danny Thomas always did.

We were getting to be known as a couple. Little did everybody know
that we were like brother and sister, but we had fun. Once in a while, a kiss
on the cheek, but that's all...and again, I was grateful. I didn't have to
worry about a thing.

He was very involved with the Variety Club, which helps crippled
children. When they had a big affair, he would buy two or three tables at
$2,500 a table and give the tickets to some of the people who worked for
him. He did it because he believed in the charity, not to be a show-off, and
I loved him for that. Every Christmas he would take twelve boys from the
Variety Club Boys Club in the worst section of L.A. He would take them
in cars to a wonderful restaurant for dinner and give them each a radio, a
$10 bill (so they could buy their parents something), record albums, and
candy. Then, after dinner, he would take them to a men's clothing store
and they could pick out two complete outfits: shirts, shoes, socks, jackets,
and pants. He did it with love.

He took pride in running the Pussycat Theaters. Although they were
porno theaters, he ran them as a business. They were cute little theaters
that were kept in shape. Sometimes when we were out, he would stop at
one theater or another and make sure everything was being run right. I
met everyone at the office, including his cousin Jimmy. His publicity man
Don Haley kept our names in the columns. Everyone liked him, and, as I
said, we had a lot of fun together.