Hold the Roses (8 page)

NBC had been calling for about two weeks, and my mother said it
was very important to return the call. My father called and was told that
they had come up with another coast-to-coast radio show. Same time and
day ... 12:15 Sunday afternoon for fifteen minutes. Just a piano player, an
announcer, and me. This time the sponsor was Tastyeast, a nutritious candy
bar intended to stimulate children's appetites. We didn't have the same
kind of junk food then, and kids just didn't care about eating. The idea was
that this candy bar would increase their appetite. At least it was a national
product known and available over the entire country. Not like Julius
Grossman Shoes, with the one store in New York. They felt I would be a
walking example of how good this candy bar was, since I ate it, liked it,
and was even gaining weight from eating it.

We moved again. This time to 729 Kingsland Avenue in Grantwood,
New Jersey. It was close to New York City and NBC (five minutes to the
George Washington Bridge and then thirty minutes into the city). Another double-decker. We lived on the bottom floor. My grandmother, God
love her, kept after my mother about getting our own home, to have some thing solid. She believed in knowing where you're going to sleep every
night and knowing where you'll sleep when you die. I remember her words,
and when I got my own home, I immediately bought cemetery plots.

With my radio sponsor, "Tastyeast"

We started making preparations for my new NBC show. It was only
January and the show wouldn't start until May. There was a lot to be done.
My father called my old piano player Herbie Steiner and got Sammy Ward,
a well-known writer of special material. We were getting the new songs
from music publishers and picking the ones we liked. Sammy would change
the lyrics to some of the songs. They were mostly love songs-he would
make them "mother" songs so they didn't sound too grown-up for me to
sing. Herbie and I would make a little arrangement for the songs. We went
to Shapiro Bernstein Music Publishers, where we had some sort of halfassed office in which I rehearsed every day.

Now that I would be working at NBC and not traveling for a while, Two-page mini-biography NBC sent to fans who wrote in about my weekly
radio show

I was enrolled once again in Professional Children's School. My mother
would pick me up at 2:00 P.M. We'd walk to Lindy's, the famous New York
restaurant/delicatessen, to have lunch and then go to Shapiro Bernstein to
rehearse. We'd go over many songs, always making sure the lyrics were
suitable for me. This was pretty much my daily routine, unless something
else came up-as it did with Paramount Studios.

Someone called from Paramount's New York office and said that "the
coast" wanted to audition me for a part in a picture. Arrangements were
made. We called Herbie to play for me, and both my parents came along
with me. We went to Paramount's New York offices and were shown into
one of the suites, which had been turned into a screening room and was
also used for auditions.

I sang "If I Only Had a Five Cent Piece." ("Enough to buy a cup of
coffee.... I'd drink water instead and go beggin' for bread, 'cuz I'd give the nickel to you....") What a lyric! My mother was sitting in front of me, and
I suddenly thought of all the crap she had taken from my father, and how
mean he was to her. While I was singing, I started crying - which made it
only more dramatic. I was crying and loving my mother so much. The
tears ran down my face and wouldn't stop. I could have given Bernadette
Peters lessons.

Evidently it worked-not that it was exactly planned to turn out that
way. They decided I would be in this picture with W.C. Fields called International House. Get this: the picture was all about a new invention called
television! I had a cameo, along with Rudy Vallee and Bela Lugosi. The
film was to be directed by Brian Foy.

I thought, "Great, back to Hollywood." Unfortunately, it was a oneday shoot on Long Island. The song I sang, "My Bluebird's Singing the
Blues," was written especially for me by Leo Robin and Ralph Ranger. They used two pianos on the set (with the orchestra in back, of course).
Herbie Steiner was on one piano and Ralph Ranger wanted to play the
other piano. Ralph was thrilled with the way I sang. He said it was a hard
song to sing, but he loved the way I sang it. I was so glad because I wasn't
feeling too well that day, and I wasn't sure how I would sound. It must
have been okay, because we did the scene in three takes and it was all over
in about two and a half hours.

Between my movie debut and the start of my new NBC Radio job, I
was kept busy doing shorts. Two with the bouncing ball (remember that?).
I was the voice of Sally Swing in six Betty Boop cartoons. In the meantime,
NBC was really going to make this new show a big hit. There was lots of
publicity, new pictures, and guest shots. Mr. Schewing also decided that I
should become a corporation. Not only because of the things associated
with me like hair bows, dolls and dresses, but we now had a payroll. Herbie
Steiner, Sam Ward, and a salary for my father. But not my mother: she was
president of the corporation in name only; my father would give her a very
small amount of money each week. NBC drew up the papers and, believe
it or not, I signed the contract myself (my father had to sign it too, of
course). So the Baby Rose Marie Corporation was formed. Big deal! I don't
think we gained anything from it. Maybe my father did, but I don't remember my mother getting any of the windfall. By the way, I still have the
logos!

My new radio show went on the air in May, as scheduled, and the
mail started to pour in-more than ever before. The reviews were sensational. Everyone was happy, and we started to get the whole thing down to
a routine. I even had time to make friends and play with the kids on the
block. I began to wish for one special present for my birthday coming up
in August. I wanted a big 26-inch red two-wheeler bike so I could ride up
and down the street with the kids. Can you imagine how thrilled I was
when Herbie, my piano player, gave me the exact bike I wanted for my
birthday? Come to think of it, I don't think my father ever gave me a gift.
I know my mother used to buy gifts out of the pittance she received from
my father. She would have my father sign the gift cards. I saw him do it. I
just don't remember him ever going out and actually buying me a gift.

I went to Atlantic City and appeared again at the Steel Pier with
Milton Berle. I also went to Philadelphia and played the Earl Theater. I
was able to play quite a few dates that were close to home and still manage
to keep up the routine of school, the radio show, and time with my friends.

My grandmother kept harping on getting our own home. At least
there would be some kind of equity in owning a house. She said to my
mother, "She'll be getting a check every week. Try to save as much as you
can, and let's go look for a house. The hell with what he says. Ask him for
more money every week. I have a little money saved and I'll give it to you
toward the house." My mother used to give my grandmother ten or twenty
dollars every once in a while in case she wanted to buy something for
herself-but she never did. If she wanted something, I would get it for her
or my mother would.

They found the house in Palisades, New Jersey. It was about five minutes from where we were living, but in a grand section of Fort Lee. It was a
Tudor two-story house. This time we lived on both floors! It was the second house from the corner on Claremont Road-the number was 63. It
was truly beautiful and it was my mother's castle. We bought it from a man
named Brenner. My mother also bought some of the drapes that were there
and the dining room set, which was gorgeous. The house had Italian
wrought-iron gates going from the living room into the dining room and
going from the living room into the sun porch.

We later turned that room into a bar. Although we were never a drinking family-both my mother and father didn't drink, except for a glass of
wine from time to time-we had a well-stocked bar for guests. I have the
same thing now in my own home. I don't drink, but the bar is stocked for
my friends.

My mother wanted a few other things that Mr. Brenner was selling:
an eight-foot-tall mahogany grandfather clock from England and a threepiece mantel set with two urns and a clock, all in marble. The clock was
said to be a gift that Flo Ziegfeld once gave to his longtime companion, the
actress Anna Held. My mother had to have that.

All in all, it was a beautiful, solid house. My mother decorated it in
the French period. Her taste has always been exquisite-remember the
polka-dot coat? So we finally had our house. A small down payment and a
big mortgage. It was worth it and it was ours. My mother felt like a queen
in her castle, and my grandmother was the happiest she had been in years.
If nothing else, we had a permanent roof over our heads.

The Tastyeast program lasted for three years, and again I did some
tours in RKO theaters. By now I was eleven years old and had quit school.
Little did I know that I would be going to school again in New Jersey at
the Epiphany Parochial School. My brother had started school, and my mother wanted to have the two of us going to Catholic school. It was
about eight blocks from our new home, so we walked to school every day.
I was put into the seventh grade and Sister Alice Rita would be my teacher.
She was also head of the choir, and I got to sing "Mother of Christ" every
Sunday. She promised my mother my lessons would be sent to me if I ever
went on the road so that I could keep up with the class. Sister Alice Rita
discussed this at length with Father Banks, the head priest of the school,
and he okayed the arrangement.

Every one of the kids looked at me like I was something odd. Sister
Alice Rita made such a fuss over me. I guess she looked at me as a breath of
fresh air in an otherwise dull routine. I had no idea of the discipline in a
Catholic school. I was my usual clowning self. Most of the time, I would
forget to raise my hand to answer questions. I would just speak out loud.
She would smile, but always remind me I had to end my sentence with the
word "Sister." ("Yes, Sister." "No, Sister.") I had learned how to print in
Professional Children's School. These kids only knew the Palmer method
of writing. Not only did I have to learn how to write; I was the only one
who could print all of the homework assignments on the blackboard. This
was my first clue to the difference in the teaching methods between both
schools.

My first day was awful. I didn't know if I was ahead or behind my
classmates. I was very quiet in catechism class that first day; mostly I listened. Then came our homework for that day. We had to learn the Divine
Praises. It was cinch for me to memorize. I couldn't wait to get to school
the next day to rattle them off. Sister Alice Rita was thrilled and told the
class, "See, that's how you do your homework." The kids now hated me for
the second day in a row.

A couple of months after I began school, Sister Alice Rita realized
that my schooling at Professional Children's School was more advanced
than she had originally thought, and that it would be more appropriate for
me to be in the eighth grade. Of course, in time I got along with the other
kids. There are still two or three with whom I correspond to this day. Sister
Alice Rita and I remained dear friends until the day she died. Whenever I
was on the road, in later years, and I traveled near New Jersey, I'd go and
visit her.