I could write pages about the days and weeks after my mom died, but I don't want to go back to that sad place. Even after this many years, I miss her every day. And I'll tell you the truth - she is always with me. You'll hear some great stories about that if you continue reading.
Suffice it to say, things did go on. I think my friends were as surprised as I was at her death. It was shocking enough to think she'd be gone in a year, but six weeks. Unreal. Yet, life did go on in the form of many game show tapings.
One of the first shows I worked upon returning from New York was - Name That Tune. There was Bruce - never to be heard from again - who told me how sorry he was to hear about my loss. My crush was on very, very low simmer.
The manly priority at that time was Chris. He'd "surprised" me upon my return with a diamond ring from Tiffany's. Oy! Marrying him was certainly not on my agenda. I doubt that I really even loved him and I certainly didn't trust him. One definitely true cliche - "marry a man who cheats on his wife and you marry a man who cheats on his wife". Same was true about live in girlfriends. We weren't even getting along. Although he did drive me to the emergency room one Saturday afternoon.
Yes, the emergency room. In those 70's days I used to smoke a little grass, turn up Barry Manilow and clean my apartment. I don't know which is the most embarrassing part of that last sentence. Well, I'd moved a wing back chair out from a corner and was cleaning around it. I forgot I'd moved the chair and as I turned I whacked my forehead solidly against the wall. Yet another reason not to clean - at least not when stoned. The bump on my head had grown from a golf ball into a soft ball by the time Chris arrived and he quickly transported me to St. Joe's, a Catholic hospital right across from NBC.
They took me in for an x-ray. St. Joe's was a Catholic hospital and the nun/nurse was in her habit - just like the nun/nurse at the hospital my mom had been in. I hadn't cried much since I'd returned from the funeral but when she asked me how I was I burst into tears and sobbed. She was kind, very kind. She patted my shoulder as I sputtered out my sad saga.
My head wasn't broken...but I believed my heart certainly was.
I wasn't ready to love anybody but I was ready to be mad...very mad.
Poor Chris!
Sunday, August 1, 2010
The Longest Flight
For the second time in ten days I was flying 3,000 miles. This time it was to go to my mother's funeral. Funeral...it made no sense. Three months ago she'd been alive, vibrant and, seemingly, just fine. And now she was gone forever.
I remember looking out the window of the plane and wondering "how can everything just keep going on without her?". I certainly didn't think I could. Perhaps at 28 I should have been a bit more prepared for losing someone. In fact, when I was home for Jody's graduation my mom and I had a long discussion about death. For some reason I felt a dread that someone close to me was going to die. I believed it would be my father, exploding in a puff of his own anger some day. I shared that with Emmy who had lost both her parents before she was 35. She said "when you lose someone and feel terrible you're just being selfish...for yourself, because you're going to miss them. But the truth is they're in a much better place. And, they will always be with you.". I understood why she had been worried about me. I wish I were as sure as she had been that I'd be all right without her.
What I remember most about her wake and funeral were the flowers. So, so many flowers. Everybody loved Emmy. She was a great friend, a funny friend and a well-loved friend. The first afternoon of the wake was somber...but when we returned from dinner for the evening "session" the room was filled with tens of flower arrangements that had been delivered during that afternoon. Strange to say, I felt like a kid at Christmas reading the cards. It was a wonderful tribute to a wonderful lady.
It was then that I truly believed in God. Someone with as much faith as my mom couldn't possibly get gypped!
I finally had faith but I surely felt terrible.
I remember looking out the window of the plane and wondering "how can everything just keep going on without her?". I certainly didn't think I could. Perhaps at 28 I should have been a bit more prepared for losing someone. In fact, when I was home for Jody's graduation my mom and I had a long discussion about death. For some reason I felt a dread that someone close to me was going to die. I believed it would be my father, exploding in a puff of his own anger some day. I shared that with Emmy who had lost both her parents before she was 35. She said "when you lose someone and feel terrible you're just being selfish...for yourself, because you're going to miss them. But the truth is they're in a much better place. And, they will always be with you.". I understood why she had been worried about me. I wish I were as sure as she had been that I'd be all right without her.
What I remember most about her wake and funeral were the flowers. So, so many flowers. Everybody loved Emmy. She was a great friend, a funny friend and a well-loved friend. The first afternoon of the wake was somber...but when we returned from dinner for the evening "session" the room was filled with tens of flower arrangements that had been delivered during that afternoon. Strange to say, I felt like a kid at Christmas reading the cards. It was a wonderful tribute to a wonderful lady.
It was then that I truly believed in God. Someone with as much faith as my mom couldn't possibly get gypped!
I finally had faith but I surely felt terrible.
Friday, July 30, 2010
How can this be?
I think we can all agree that when the very worst things in life happen your reaction can often be "how can this be?". I'd returned to California and my mom remained in the hospital. I spoke to her, my father and Jody every day...several times. I went to work, monitored the game shows and moved through the routine of life without really being there at all. I wanted to be back in New York. As the days turned into a week I knew I had to go home to be with my family. I wanted to spend as much time with my mother as I could.
Sam - my New York boss - was wonderful. He told me to come to New York and take as much time as I needed. My mom was coming home for the hospital in a couple of days. I made plans to go home.
The day before she was to leave the hospital mom got a cold. Not good under the best of circumstances, as she had been an asthmatic ever since I could remember. It was never "just a cold"...she wanted to go home but the doctors said ...not. She may have been very sick but when my mom really wanted something she went about getting it. My dad agreed and lobbied for the doctors to give her a shot of adrenaline so she could have the strength to leave the hospital. The doctor said it could kill her...my dad replied, "exactly where do you think we're going here?".
I was three thousand miles away ... mom got her wish and came home from the hospital. I talked to her, told her I loved her and she said, breathlessly..."I love you,too."
Emmy Barrett Brunck Mafera died at 10:30PM that same night. My dad said the last thing she said was "oh shit..." before she fell asleep for the last time. That was SO her!!
I already had the plane reservation.
But, how can this be?
Sam - my New York boss - was wonderful. He told me to come to New York and take as much time as I needed. My mom was coming home for the hospital in a couple of days. I made plans to go home.
The day before she was to leave the hospital mom got a cold. Not good under the best of circumstances, as she had been an asthmatic ever since I could remember. It was never "just a cold"...she wanted to go home but the doctors said ...not. She may have been very sick but when my mom really wanted something she went about getting it. My dad agreed and lobbied for the doctors to give her a shot of adrenaline so she could have the strength to leave the hospital. The doctor said it could kill her...my dad replied, "exactly where do you think we're going here?".
I was three thousand miles away ... mom got her wish and came home from the hospital. I talked to her, told her I loved her and she said, breathlessly..."I love you,too."
Emmy Barrett Brunck Mafera died at 10:30PM that same night. My dad said the last thing she said was "oh shit..." before she fell asleep for the last time. That was SO her!!
I already had the plane reservation.
But, how can this be?
Thursday, July 29, 2010
The Brick Wall
Without a job or even the desire to look for one, we agreed it was time for Jody to return to Locust Valley in mid-September. I was sorry it hadn't worked out but glad to have my couch back. He left on a Tuesday.
Early Wednesday morning my phone rang. It was 6:30AM. No good can ever come of a call that early in the morning. It was my father - and Jody. In hindsight, recognizing the three hour time difference it's amazing my father waited that long. Yet, I will always wonder why he didn't make the call when my brother and I were together. Why I had to hear this horrendous news and be totally alone when I hung up the phone.
My mother had terminal cancer. She had less than a year to live. Breast...spread...lungs....liver...no reprieve in sight. These were the days pre-mammograms. By the time they found it there was nothing to be done. A small operation and they told her there was no need to stop smoking. While my father peppered the doctors with his attorney like questions "exactly how big is this tumor and that one"..the doctors said it didn't matter. The jury was in on this one and the verdict was not good.
I don't remember much about that day other than I drank about a bottle of wine and didn't go to work. I sat and cried. Chris came over and sat with me. My friend Pam and her boyfriend had tickets to go see Barry Manilow that night and we were going with them. Yes, I loved Barry Manilow...sorry about that. I remember going to the concert and drinking even more wine. When I didn't think I could cry anymore I kept crying.
Three days later my father called and said, "Come home. It's spread to her brain and she might not live through the night." I was on a plane within two hours.
How could my life possibly go on without my Mom, Emmy,in it?
When I got off the plane my Aunt Doris and Uncle Howie were there to meet me. Uncle Howie is my father's youngest brother and they had on-again, off-again feuds for as long as I could remember. Only imminent death could have patched up the last one...in fact, my father had said to my uncle during their last altercation "see you at the next funeral"...nice, very nice.
They drove me to the hospital and my Mom was sitting up in bed..it was 11:00PM and I knew my being able to get past visiting hours meant things were pretty serious.
Radiation had worked a miracle, bringing her back from the brink.
While Mom was out of immediate danger the doctors said it was just a matter of time. Much less than they originally thought. She said she wasn't in any pain and felt like "I have half a jag on". Yet, they gave her chemotherapy, which confounded me. In this Catholic hospital "where there's life, there's hope". I questioned a nurse who was also a nun and she told me that she and my mother had quite a conversation about life and death. The nun told me my mom had said "I'll be fine...I have my family, my friends and my faith."
Mom was still in the hospital when I returned to California ten days later. We'd spent our time together saying "goodbye" without ever saying the words. She told me of her hopes for me and my brother. When it was time to leave, Jody drove me to the airport while my dad stayed with her.
Seated in a chair in her room, she smiled and said "see you all of a sudden" - her favorite parting phrase. We hugged and I kissed her. We both knew it was a final goodbye.
She didn't shed a tear...neither did I.
I heard later from my father that mom was worried most about me. When I left the room she looked at him and said "she'll be all right".
Early Wednesday morning my phone rang. It was 6:30AM. No good can ever come of a call that early in the morning. It was my father - and Jody. In hindsight, recognizing the three hour time difference it's amazing my father waited that long. Yet, I will always wonder why he didn't make the call when my brother and I were together. Why I had to hear this horrendous news and be totally alone when I hung up the phone.
My mother had terminal cancer. She had less than a year to live. Breast...spread...lungs....liver...no reprieve in sight. These were the days pre-mammograms. By the time they found it there was nothing to be done. A small operation and they told her there was no need to stop smoking. While my father peppered the doctors with his attorney like questions "exactly how big is this tumor and that one"..the doctors said it didn't matter. The jury was in on this one and the verdict was not good.
I don't remember much about that day other than I drank about a bottle of wine and didn't go to work. I sat and cried. Chris came over and sat with me. My friend Pam and her boyfriend had tickets to go see Barry Manilow that night and we were going with them. Yes, I loved Barry Manilow...sorry about that. I remember going to the concert and drinking even more wine. When I didn't think I could cry anymore I kept crying.
Three days later my father called and said, "Come home. It's spread to her brain and she might not live through the night." I was on a plane within two hours.
How could my life possibly go on without my Mom, Emmy,in it?
When I got off the plane my Aunt Doris and Uncle Howie were there to meet me. Uncle Howie is my father's youngest brother and they had on-again, off-again feuds for as long as I could remember. Only imminent death could have patched up the last one...in fact, my father had said to my uncle during their last altercation "see you at the next funeral"...nice, very nice.
They drove me to the hospital and my Mom was sitting up in bed..it was 11:00PM and I knew my being able to get past visiting hours meant things were pretty serious.
Radiation had worked a miracle, bringing her back from the brink.
While Mom was out of immediate danger the doctors said it was just a matter of time. Much less than they originally thought. She said she wasn't in any pain and felt like "I have half a jag on". Yet, they gave her chemotherapy, which confounded me. In this Catholic hospital "where there's life, there's hope". I questioned a nurse who was also a nun and she told me that she and my mother had quite a conversation about life and death. The nun told me my mom had said "I'll be fine...I have my family, my friends and my faith."
Mom was still in the hospital when I returned to California ten days later. We'd spent our time together saying "goodbye" without ever saying the words. She told me of her hopes for me and my brother. When it was time to leave, Jody drove me to the airport while my dad stayed with her.
Seated in a chair in her room, she smiled and said "see you all of a sudden" - her favorite parting phrase. We hugged and I kissed her. We both knew it was a final goodbye.
She didn't shed a tear...neither did I.
I heard later from my father that mom was worried most about me. When I left the room she looked at him and said "she'll be all right".
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Divorce Burbank Style
The summer was fun. Jody and I became friends as almost-adults as we'd never been during childhood. He had a great, sarcastic sense of humor and seemed to find my life a constant source of amusement. He enjoyed hanging out at the various tapings but seemed in no hurry to find work himself. That started to become a problem. We'd talked about his staying in LA permanently but as July turned into August he seemed perfectly content to hang out on the couch or play golf. Searching for a gig wasn't part of the equation. OK, now I'll admit, I worked summers since I was fifteen at the "restaurant" mostly because of that very nice guy I didn't marry. But I was concerned that Jody was more interested in smoking pot than thinking about being on his own.
A bit of background. We were both spoiled - but when I hit my teens it became evident that my personality was more like my father's than my mom's. She and Jody were the quiet ones, as I think I mentioned very early on in this tome. Big Joe and I were the, how should I say it - verbally active? And since we rarely agreed, the action was not fun and games most of the time. The three thousand mile separation had been a good thing for both of us. Jody knew how to play Big Joe - like a violin and much better than I was at getting what he wanted out of "pater familia". Yet, the subsidizing was about to come to a screeching halt unless Jody reconsidered his career choice. Switching from pre-law to history as his college major had thrown Big Joe into a tizzy of gargantuan proportions. Jody took the qualifying test to attend law school but had done nothing about applying. So, aside from lounging on my couch, there were no active plans for the future. The parents had been surprisingly silent during the past two months. We'd call home every Sunday morning but my mom was rarely around. Big Joe said she had really gotten into her golf game, which seemed humorous as she could usually kick the ball farther than she'd hit it. We thought it odd for about five minutes after we got off the phone and then promptly moved along with our plans for the day.
By the end of August I had narrowed down the dating field to one Assistant Director - Chris. He worked on "Press Your Luck" and was a consummate flirt who looked a lot like an adult "Dennis the Menace" - cow lick and all. Yet, there had been a huge fly in that ointment. He was living with someone...so unhappily, he said...and trying to extricate himself from the union. Again, pre-therapy, I had no idea what my huge attraction toward unavailable men was about. In fact, I didn't think about it at all. I kept the relationship at arm's length until Becky moved out of Chris' one bedroom apartment in Studio City. I liked him but couldn't get Bruce off my mind. Again...unavailable. I'd see Bruce at the Name that Tune tapings and he was always friendly and funny but never mentioned seeing me again. Ouch!
Since Chris was now "free" he kept inquiring as to the status of my divorce. After a couple of conversations with Jake - who finally agreed my paying him alimony was pretty ridiculous, but could I keep buying the kids clothes from time to time - I moved ahead with my attorney. Since the papers had been filed for close to a year the waiting period was officially over. All I had to do was make a brief court appearance.
I wanted nothing from Jake, obviously. Well, except his name. My maiden name was Mafera. When we first separated I'd tried going back to it - well, not that hard. I was so tired of spelling it - "M as in Mary - A - F as in Frank"...and everybody knew me as Howe. So that day in court was only about signing off on that small request. I'd appear and the judge would grant me permission to remain Janet Howe. Over and out.
I sat and waited my turn. When the judge called my name I stood up and walked up to stand in front of them.
He read the paper slowly and said..."divorce granted...so you like the name but not the game."
Really...
A bit of background. We were both spoiled - but when I hit my teens it became evident that my personality was more like my father's than my mom's. She and Jody were the quiet ones, as I think I mentioned very early on in this tome. Big Joe and I were the, how should I say it - verbally active? And since we rarely agreed, the action was not fun and games most of the time. The three thousand mile separation had been a good thing for both of us. Jody knew how to play Big Joe - like a violin and much better than I was at getting what he wanted out of "pater familia". Yet, the subsidizing was about to come to a screeching halt unless Jody reconsidered his career choice. Switching from pre-law to history as his college major had thrown Big Joe into a tizzy of gargantuan proportions. Jody took the qualifying test to attend law school but had done nothing about applying. So, aside from lounging on my couch, there were no active plans for the future. The parents had been surprisingly silent during the past two months. We'd call home every Sunday morning but my mom was rarely around. Big Joe said she had really gotten into her golf game, which seemed humorous as she could usually kick the ball farther than she'd hit it. We thought it odd for about five minutes after we got off the phone and then promptly moved along with our plans for the day.
By the end of August I had narrowed down the dating field to one Assistant Director - Chris. He worked on "Press Your Luck" and was a consummate flirt who looked a lot like an adult "Dennis the Menace" - cow lick and all. Yet, there had been a huge fly in that ointment. He was living with someone...so unhappily, he said...and trying to extricate himself from the union. Again, pre-therapy, I had no idea what my huge attraction toward unavailable men was about. In fact, I didn't think about it at all. I kept the relationship at arm's length until Becky moved out of Chris' one bedroom apartment in Studio City. I liked him but couldn't get Bruce off my mind. Again...unavailable. I'd see Bruce at the Name that Tune tapings and he was always friendly and funny but never mentioned seeing me again. Ouch!
Since Chris was now "free" he kept inquiring as to the status of my divorce. After a couple of conversations with Jake - who finally agreed my paying him alimony was pretty ridiculous, but could I keep buying the kids clothes from time to time - I moved ahead with my attorney. Since the papers had been filed for close to a year the waiting period was officially over. All I had to do was make a brief court appearance.
I wanted nothing from Jake, obviously. Well, except his name. My maiden name was Mafera. When we first separated I'd tried going back to it - well, not that hard. I was so tired of spelling it - "M as in Mary - A - F as in Frank"...and everybody knew me as Howe. So that day in court was only about signing off on that small request. I'd appear and the judge would grant me permission to remain Janet Howe. Over and out.
I sat and waited my turn. When the judge called my name I stood up and walked up to stand in front of them.
He read the paper slowly and said..."divorce granted...so you like the name but not the game."
Really...
The Prince & the Luau
The taping finally ended. The lovely contestant was $100,000 richer and I was headed to Beverly Hills in Bruce's red Mercedes convertible. We were going for drinks at the Luau - a Rodeo Drive Hawaiian style haunt that was owned by Lana Turner's ex-husband, Steve Crane. It was beyond cool in a kitchy way. Much has been said about the romance of Rum, but I was already in a state of "this guy could be the one". Wouldn't you think I'd have gotten over that notion?
We each ordered a Luau Grog. I can't tell you what was in it but I do know that it had authority. I sipped slowly and listened to Bruce's stories. He surely had stories and I found each one fascinating. Truth be told, even while not performing the man loved an audience. He told me he and his wife had been apart four years and raved about his two daughters. One was 11 and one 15.
Three hours passed in a blink.
On the drive back to my apartment Bruce spoke of all the things we would do together. He went to many screenings at the Writer's Guild...he loved Santa Barbara...I would love his daughters and vice-versa. It sounded like a wonderful life was on the verge of opening up right before my very eyes. A small kiss at my front door and the promise of a phone call in the morning to make plans for the weekend.
I was euphoric...but the next morning he didn't call. In fact, he never called!
Men suck!
It was finally time to finalize that divorce...
We each ordered a Luau Grog. I can't tell you what was in it but I do know that it had authority. I sipped slowly and listened to Bruce's stories. He surely had stories and I found each one fascinating. Truth be told, even while not performing the man loved an audience. He told me he and his wife had been apart four years and raved about his two daughters. One was 11 and one 15.
Three hours passed in a blink.
On the drive back to my apartment Bruce spoke of all the things we would do together. He went to many screenings at the Writer's Guild...he loved Santa Barbara...I would love his daughters and vice-versa. It sounded like a wonderful life was on the verge of opening up right before my very eyes. A small kiss at my front door and the promise of a phone call in the morning to make plans for the weekend.
I was euphoric...but the next morning he didn't call. In fact, he never called!
Men suck!
It was finally time to finalize that divorce...
Beginnings ...
I have a lot of memories of that summer. Jody was an excellent golfer and a friend of mine, Steve, was a member of a hotsy-totsy club so they played often. I worked, brought Jody along to tapings and continued my "sprint dating"...no one serious but a couple of potential contenders. I wasn't sure I'd ever be up for another marriage marathon. And I still wasn't divorced...soon, I thought...soon.
There was someone I liked..a lot. He was the Executive Producer of Name That Tune. His name was Bruce...and he'd been in a singing group in the late 50's...The Four Preps. He'd written a song called "26 Miles" and was funny, cute, always "on" and thirteen years older. I had yet to figure out my attraction to older men. We would flirt on the set and I would sit in front of him and the head of Ralph Edwards Productions - Ralph Edwards - during every taping.
I loved working on Name That Tune. We would take the contestants out all day while the band rehearsed the music. The contestant co-ordinator, Judi, was the most fun and we would go to movies, on the Universal Tour - all sorts of great places with great people. The contestants on this show were the nicest. I've always thought because of their love of music and it always made me happy to see them win.
During one taping an especially nice contestant won $100,000. I cried...sheesh, the gene was definitely on overdrive. Ralph Edwards - one of the nicest men I have ever met, show business or not - handed me a tissue. Bruce patted my shoulder. They thought it was cute. And it seemed to set a pattern. Whenever a contestant was to go for the "big money" Ralph would lean over and hand me a tissue. Perhaps this was what caught Bruce's attention because one day he called me at the office and asked if I'd like to go out after the next taping. I said "yes" and immediately called my friend, Judi - who knew of my crush - and we planned what I'd wear.
Of course, the taping ran long. All the contestants knew I had a "big date" that night but no one but Judi knew who it was with. At the very end of the last show a wonderful lady had the chance to go for $100,000. We were running very late and as I sat with her in the room awaiting her chance to name the tune that might change her life all she could do was apologize for keeping me from my date. See why I loved these contestants?
We went out on stage and I wished her luck as she went into the booth to hear the music. I went to my seat in the front row with Bruce and Mr. Edwards seated behind me.
They played six notes. She smiled and said "Some day my prince will come."
I cried and secretly hoped that wasn't just the name of that tune!
There was someone I liked..a lot. He was the Executive Producer of Name That Tune. His name was Bruce...and he'd been in a singing group in the late 50's...The Four Preps. He'd written a song called "26 Miles" and was funny, cute, always "on" and thirteen years older. I had yet to figure out my attraction to older men. We would flirt on the set and I would sit in front of him and the head of Ralph Edwards Productions - Ralph Edwards - during every taping.
I loved working on Name That Tune. We would take the contestants out all day while the band rehearsed the music. The contestant co-ordinator, Judi, was the most fun and we would go to movies, on the Universal Tour - all sorts of great places with great people. The contestants on this show were the nicest. I've always thought because of their love of music and it always made me happy to see them win.
During one taping an especially nice contestant won $100,000. I cried...sheesh, the gene was definitely on overdrive. Ralph Edwards - one of the nicest men I have ever met, show business or not - handed me a tissue. Bruce patted my shoulder. They thought it was cute. And it seemed to set a pattern. Whenever a contestant was to go for the "big money" Ralph would lean over and hand me a tissue. Perhaps this was what caught Bruce's attention because one day he called me at the office and asked if I'd like to go out after the next taping. I said "yes" and immediately called my friend, Judi - who knew of my crush - and we planned what I'd wear.
Of course, the taping ran long. All the contestants knew I had a "big date" that night but no one but Judi knew who it was with. At the very end of the last show a wonderful lady had the chance to go for $100,000. We were running very late and as I sat with her in the room awaiting her chance to name the tune that might change her life all she could do was apologize for keeping me from my date. See why I loved these contestants?
We went out on stage and I wished her luck as she went into the booth to hear the music. I went to my seat in the front row with Bruce and Mr. Edwards seated behind me.
They played six notes. She smiled and said "Some day my prince will come."
I cried and secretly hoped that wasn't just the name of that tune!
Monday, July 26, 2010
A Year of Transition...
The year I was 27 was a good one. I dated...I moved...into a wonderful triplex in an amazing area. It was a bright, airy one bedroom with hardwood floors and tons of charm. I was in heaven! I started buying furniture and felt like Mary Tyler Moore.. on my own and loving life. The man in charge of acquiring the prizes for Hollywood Squares owned the triplex. He'd bought it to house his ex daughter-in-law after she'd been unceremoniously dumped by his son. I was the excited third tenant.
The triplex was across the street from Bob Hope's house in Toluca Lake. Mr. Hope owned half of the San Fernando Valley and I'd heard the other half was owned by Fred McMurray. Truthfully, Mr. Hope's house was a giant old fashioned Tudor that didn't appear to have central air conditioning. You could see through the gate that the windows were always open. The lot on the other corner was empty. Rumor had it that Mr. Hope owned that, too, and upon his death and that of his wife, Dolores, the house would become a nunnery for the Roman Catholic church about a mile away. Dolores Hope was the major donor. As I write this, Mrs. Hope is still with us. The triplex was sold years ago to house Mr. Hope's caretakers and I guess the nuns are still waiting for their new home.
Halloween was amazing in Toluca Lake. Buses arrived with kids - I kid you not - from other neighborhoods because trick or treating in this area filled with celebrities,incredible homes and full size candy bars. Christmas time was amazing - the lights, the creches, the huge lit trees filled with decorations. It was also about three miles from NBC which made for an incredible commute to work.
My work schedule was erratic, time-wise. Different shows taped at different times. For instance, Wheel of Fortune was a late call - and late out. Midnight Special - very early call and very late out. But Midnight Special was FUN! Wolfman Jack was the host and for Christmas that year even us "cops" got beautiful silk and satin "Midnight Special" baseball jackets. However, the fly in the ointment of scheduling was Susan - the office administrator who made sure we all knew she was the "boss of the schedule". She was six years older so I didn't expect all the perks she had but I did expect fairness. Not so much. Susan would get annoyed and then Susan would get petty. She didn't like the friendship that had developed between me and one of the other young women in the office. So, we never got to work on shows together. And, if we misbehaved, i.e., hanging out together after work hours, one - or both - of us would find ourselves working a graveyard shift show with an early show turnaround. Silly, but true. It's always something, isn't it?
Our boss worked out of NBC in New York...his name was - and still is - Sam. He wasn't much older than we were and had a great sense of humor. When he came to town we would have fun - and heaven forbid we didn't include Susan. That would guarantee working the worst shows at least a couple of weeks. We were salaried - not hourly - so it didn't matter how many hours a day we'd work. Susan saved the best for herself - but more about that later.
I was loving life - except for the pending divorce. I'd gotten an attorney, I'd filed the papers but didn't follow through. Why? Well, the attorney had said there was a chance I'd have to pay him alimony. Huh??? During the past year Jake had lost his job, sold the boat and moved in with a new girlfriend. No income meant I made more. Ah, equality for women. So, the divorce was on hold which drove my father nuts. Just about everything I did drove my father nuts and had forever. But, again - that's another story.
I'd spent just about every Christmas holiday - married or not - back in Locust Valley. My mom had insisted. To be honest, it was the continuity in my life that I craved. I loved where I'd grown up - I just didn't want to still live there. A visit was exactly what I needed at least once a year. In May of that year my younger brother was graduating from college so I was summoned for the ceremony. I groused but agreed it was where I should be.
Let me explain my mom in greater detail. She was the warmest, funniest woman I knew. My friends all loved her and she always welcomed them graciously with kindness. Slumber parties were the genre of teenage entertainment when I was growing up and I had more than my share of them at our house. My mom was my friend and as I explained earlier, my savior when it came to leaving home and finding an entirely different way of life than the one I was programmed to expect. She encouraged my independence.
My mom was a "crier"...Father Knows Best could send her into spasms. Happy tears, she'd call them. The Hallmark greeting card commercials were good for several Kleenex. I laughed at her over the years...really laughed. Yet, at my brother's college graduation I found myself crying...a lot. She looked over at me and said "ha, you've got the gene."
My brother was 7 years younger than I was..having left home for good at 21 meant he was only 14. I didn't know him well. During childhood those seven years were huge and meant I was the designated baby sitter during times when that was exactly what I didn't want to be doing with my weekend nights. But I liked him. So much so that I asked him to come spend the summer in California with me following his graduation. He'd majored in history but really had no clue of what to do next. Spending the summer with me seemed like a good time for both of us. I wasn't dating anyone special and I knew he'd get along with my friends.
So Jody came to California where we spent the last best summer of our lives.
The triplex was across the street from Bob Hope's house in Toluca Lake. Mr. Hope owned half of the San Fernando Valley and I'd heard the other half was owned by Fred McMurray. Truthfully, Mr. Hope's house was a giant old fashioned Tudor that didn't appear to have central air conditioning. You could see through the gate that the windows were always open. The lot on the other corner was empty. Rumor had it that Mr. Hope owned that, too, and upon his death and that of his wife, Dolores, the house would become a nunnery for the Roman Catholic church about a mile away. Dolores Hope was the major donor. As I write this, Mrs. Hope is still with us. The triplex was sold years ago to house Mr. Hope's caretakers and I guess the nuns are still waiting for their new home.
Halloween was amazing in Toluca Lake. Buses arrived with kids - I kid you not - from other neighborhoods because trick or treating in this area filled with celebrities,incredible homes and full size candy bars. Christmas time was amazing - the lights, the creches, the huge lit trees filled with decorations. It was also about three miles from NBC which made for an incredible commute to work.
My work schedule was erratic, time-wise. Different shows taped at different times. For instance, Wheel of Fortune was a late call - and late out. Midnight Special - very early call and very late out. But Midnight Special was FUN! Wolfman Jack was the host and for Christmas that year even us "cops" got beautiful silk and satin "Midnight Special" baseball jackets. However, the fly in the ointment of scheduling was Susan - the office administrator who made sure we all knew she was the "boss of the schedule". She was six years older so I didn't expect all the perks she had but I did expect fairness. Not so much. Susan would get annoyed and then Susan would get petty. She didn't like the friendship that had developed between me and one of the other young women in the office. So, we never got to work on shows together. And, if we misbehaved, i.e., hanging out together after work hours, one - or both - of us would find ourselves working a graveyard shift show with an early show turnaround. Silly, but true. It's always something, isn't it?
Our boss worked out of NBC in New York...his name was - and still is - Sam. He wasn't much older than we were and had a great sense of humor. When he came to town we would have fun - and heaven forbid we didn't include Susan. That would guarantee working the worst shows at least a couple of weeks. We were salaried - not hourly - so it didn't matter how many hours a day we'd work. Susan saved the best for herself - but more about that later.
I was loving life - except for the pending divorce. I'd gotten an attorney, I'd filed the papers but didn't follow through. Why? Well, the attorney had said there was a chance I'd have to pay him alimony. Huh??? During the past year Jake had lost his job, sold the boat and moved in with a new girlfriend. No income meant I made more. Ah, equality for women. So, the divorce was on hold which drove my father nuts. Just about everything I did drove my father nuts and had forever. But, again - that's another story.
I'd spent just about every Christmas holiday - married or not - back in Locust Valley. My mom had insisted. To be honest, it was the continuity in my life that I craved. I loved where I'd grown up - I just didn't want to still live there. A visit was exactly what I needed at least once a year. In May of that year my younger brother was graduating from college so I was summoned for the ceremony. I groused but agreed it was where I should be.
Let me explain my mom in greater detail. She was the warmest, funniest woman I knew. My friends all loved her and she always welcomed them graciously with kindness. Slumber parties were the genre of teenage entertainment when I was growing up and I had more than my share of them at our house. My mom was my friend and as I explained earlier, my savior when it came to leaving home and finding an entirely different way of life than the one I was programmed to expect. She encouraged my independence.
My mom was a "crier"...Father Knows Best could send her into spasms. Happy tears, she'd call them. The Hallmark greeting card commercials were good for several Kleenex. I laughed at her over the years...really laughed. Yet, at my brother's college graduation I found myself crying...a lot. She looked over at me and said "ha, you've got the gene."
My brother was 7 years younger than I was..having left home for good at 21 meant he was only 14. I didn't know him well. During childhood those seven years were huge and meant I was the designated baby sitter during times when that was exactly what I didn't want to be doing with my weekend nights. But I liked him. So much so that I asked him to come spend the summer in California with me following his graduation. He'd majored in history but really had no clue of what to do next. Spending the summer with me seemed like a good time for both of us. I wasn't dating anyone special and I knew he'd get along with my friends.
So Jody came to California where we spent the last best summer of our lives.
Life in the Semi-Fast Lane
Well, I was officially "not married"...but still not divorced. It would be one more thing I had to pay for. Jake was still on the boat and the payments were still being taken out of my pay check. My parents were both pushing for the big "D"...but I was dragging my feet. I didn't want to be married to him, but never thought of myself as being divorced at 27. It was one thing to bail on a wedding, now I was bailing on a marriage. What was wrong with me?
The sexual revolution was in full force. Now that I was back on the scene dating-wise I discovered the best thing to do on a date was to order the cheapest thing on the menu. Surely he couldn't expect me to sleep with him for a small Cobb salad? One guy, a dentist, was crazy about my teeth. Yes, the braces had done a wonderful job and my smile was white, white, white. He, however, was a real doozy...after a second dinner he couldn't believe I didn't want to go home with him. His question - "are you a lesbian?" - as if that would be the only reason I wouldn't want to sleep with him. OY!!
Jake and I saw each other every other weekend. I really did love his kids and I really did miss them. Yet, I knew at some point in the relatively near future we would no longer be related and I would be the disposable part of the equation.
Work was an adventure. New shows came onto NBC. One of the oddest was "The Gong Show" - a quasi-talent half hour program with some of the oddest contestants I ever saw. They dressed in outfits that defied description. On bathroom runs I would think "my parents would be so proud if they could see me now". One day a "cowboy" had a startlingly realistic gun in his holster. I alerted the head prop man who asked the contestant for his weapon. It was real - but not loaded, and promptly confiscated. Chuck Barris was the host and creator of the show. He was as silly as the rest of the group involved with this production. It was a set filled with practical jokes, constant laughter and absolutely nothing serious.
And then I met the "chicken"...yes, the chicken...he had long, scraggly legs and was dressed in a chicken suit to open the show. Every taping was sillier than the one before on The Gong Show. The chicken wandered around the studio, dressed in full attire during the first three shows. Then we broke for dinner and the chicken was no where to be found. There was, however, a very good looking man I'd never seen before on line for his meal. I only saw him for a minute or two because we, the contestants and I, went through the line and then ate in another room.
When we went back to tape the fourth show the chicken was back in action. Halfway through the show "it" walked up to me and handed me a note. It said "would you like a glass of wine after the taping?". Surely this was just a chicken joke - if you're too young to remember "Laugh In" stop reading here. I just looked at "it" with what were probably question marks in my eyes. Then "it" walked away".
During the fifth show the chicken stood at the side of the studio closest to where I was seated. Who was this chicken and why would I possibly join it for a glass of wine? Must be a Gong Show joke on the Compliance Cop. I thought nothing of it and at the end of the show I gathered up my volumes of signed "I swear I won't cheat" forms signed by the illustrious contestant crew and started to walk out.
As I was wandering down the hallway between Studios 1 and 3 the good looking guy from the meal break called out to me..."hey, how about that glass of wine?". He was the chicken??? I walked up to him and said "why didn't you tell me who you were?". He replied, "have you ever tried to hit on somebody when you're dressed like a chicken?".
He had a point... we had a glass of wine together...and much, much more.
The sexual revolution was in full force. Now that I was back on the scene dating-wise I discovered the best thing to do on a date was to order the cheapest thing on the menu. Surely he couldn't expect me to sleep with him for a small Cobb salad? One guy, a dentist, was crazy about my teeth. Yes, the braces had done a wonderful job and my smile was white, white, white. He, however, was a real doozy...after a second dinner he couldn't believe I didn't want to go home with him. His question - "are you a lesbian?" - as if that would be the only reason I wouldn't want to sleep with him. OY!!
Jake and I saw each other every other weekend. I really did love his kids and I really did miss them. Yet, I knew at some point in the relatively near future we would no longer be related and I would be the disposable part of the equation.
Work was an adventure. New shows came onto NBC. One of the oddest was "The Gong Show" - a quasi-talent half hour program with some of the oddest contestants I ever saw. They dressed in outfits that defied description. On bathroom runs I would think "my parents would be so proud if they could see me now". One day a "cowboy" had a startlingly realistic gun in his holster. I alerted the head prop man who asked the contestant for his weapon. It was real - but not loaded, and promptly confiscated. Chuck Barris was the host and creator of the show. He was as silly as the rest of the group involved with this production. It was a set filled with practical jokes, constant laughter and absolutely nothing serious.
And then I met the "chicken"...yes, the chicken...he had long, scraggly legs and was dressed in a chicken suit to open the show. Every taping was sillier than the one before on The Gong Show. The chicken wandered around the studio, dressed in full attire during the first three shows. Then we broke for dinner and the chicken was no where to be found. There was, however, a very good looking man I'd never seen before on line for his meal. I only saw him for a minute or two because we, the contestants and I, went through the line and then ate in another room.
When we went back to tape the fourth show the chicken was back in action. Halfway through the show "it" walked up to me and handed me a note. It said "would you like a glass of wine after the taping?". Surely this was just a chicken joke - if you're too young to remember "Laugh In" stop reading here. I just looked at "it" with what were probably question marks in my eyes. Then "it" walked away".
During the fifth show the chicken stood at the side of the studio closest to where I was seated. Who was this chicken and why would I possibly join it for a glass of wine? Must be a Gong Show joke on the Compliance Cop. I thought nothing of it and at the end of the show I gathered up my volumes of signed "I swear I won't cheat" forms signed by the illustrious contestant crew and started to walk out.
As I was wandering down the hallway between Studios 1 and 3 the good looking guy from the meal break called out to me..."hey, how about that glass of wine?". He was the chicken??? I walked up to him and said "why didn't you tell me who you were?". He replied, "have you ever tried to hit on somebody when you're dressed like a chicken?".
He had a point... we had a glass of wine together...and much, much more.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Rockin' the Boat
Not surprisingly, Jake wasn't thrilled with my choice of change. It was clear that he wanted me to remain on The Tonight Show...closer to the action, he thought. His wishful action. Many new and rising talents passed through the door of my current employer and Jake always felt a a chance to represent one of them was just around the corner. He'd come close with Freddie Prinze. Before his first appearance on the show Freddie was so broke he'd spent the night on Betsy's couch. Jake and I went over for a glass of wine and I was sufficiently embarrassed at the blatant "pitch" job Jake had done. Freddie was young, innocent and enormously talented. And, after his appearance on the show he was scooped up by ICM - a huge agency. After a meteoric rise, sadly, Freddie Prinze fell into a hideous trap of sudden fame...drugs, depression and suicide at the age of 24. Today we watch Lindsay Lohan ...but I digress.
Living on the boat full time had become old after almost two years. I was more than ready to leave my sea legs behind. Jake, less so. He still enjoyed being the unconventional "almost 40" year old. At 27 I was ready to be a little bit more of a grown up. It was clear the marriage was not working.
My work in Compliance and Practices was fun. I was assigned the "back end" of most of the game shows - working with the contestants. The whole purpose of this department was to ensure game shows were completely and totally aboveboard. The "front end" person worked with the material, i.e. questions and answers. If they were taping five shows, the production company would have to bring enough material for eight shows. C&P would pick the order in which they would be taped. The "back end" person - usually the newest members of the department) worked with the contestants. Making sure they were "briefed" properly. That they didn't know anybody working for NBC or the production company...then we would select the order in which the contestants appeared. The reasoning behind this was you would have to give so many people so many answers it was certainly impossible to do.
It was...nobody cheated...but lots of us in our twenties had a great time working on these shows. Wheel of Fortune - the original one with Chuck Woolery and Susan Stafford - she actually had to turn the letters around. Susan also held prayer meetings in her dressing room but that's another story. Name that Tune - we took the contestants out on all day excursions so we could definitely say they were no where near the studio when the music was being rehearsed. Movies, lunches in Hollywood...that was a REALLY fun show to be part of. And the contestants were the nicest, I thought. I decided it was because their common denominator was a love of music. Kathie Lee Gifford - then Kathy Johnson - was the "la-la" girl. Singing the notes without the words. I swear when she started out she was my age but now she's about eight years younger. Again, another story.
But the home front was not going well. Jake and I were fighting - a lot! I worked nights and weekends. Again, as the newest member of the department I got a lot of the "early call" or "late ending" tapings. I loved it - I was out more, meeting great people and not having to listen to Jake's constant barrage of who was against him now. I finally told him I was moving onto land. I rented a studio apartment in Betsy's building. Jake decided to stay on the boat. We'd worry about who was going to pay for what later - but, hey, the boat payments were coming out of MY paycheck. No matter. I still loved Kraft Mac and Cheese, and would eat it every night if it meant moving ashore. A trial time apart we both agreed.
I moved to Sherman Oaks....lock stock and charm bracelets!
Living on the boat full time had become old after almost two years. I was more than ready to leave my sea legs behind. Jake, less so. He still enjoyed being the unconventional "almost 40" year old. At 27 I was ready to be a little bit more of a grown up. It was clear the marriage was not working.
My work in Compliance and Practices was fun. I was assigned the "back end" of most of the game shows - working with the contestants. The whole purpose of this department was to ensure game shows were completely and totally aboveboard. The "front end" person worked with the material, i.e. questions and answers. If they were taping five shows, the production company would have to bring enough material for eight shows. C&P would pick the order in which they would be taped. The "back end" person - usually the newest members of the department) worked with the contestants. Making sure they were "briefed" properly. That they didn't know anybody working for NBC or the production company...then we would select the order in which the contestants appeared. The reasoning behind this was you would have to give so many people so many answers it was certainly impossible to do.
It was...nobody cheated...but lots of us in our twenties had a great time working on these shows. Wheel of Fortune - the original one with Chuck Woolery and Susan Stafford - she actually had to turn the letters around. Susan also held prayer meetings in her dressing room but that's another story. Name that Tune - we took the contestants out on all day excursions so we could definitely say they were no where near the studio when the music was being rehearsed. Movies, lunches in Hollywood...that was a REALLY fun show to be part of. And the contestants were the nicest, I thought. I decided it was because their common denominator was a love of music. Kathie Lee Gifford - then Kathy Johnson - was the "la-la" girl. Singing the notes without the words. I swear when she started out she was my age but now she's about eight years younger. Again, another story.
But the home front was not going well. Jake and I were fighting - a lot! I worked nights and weekends. Again, as the newest member of the department I got a lot of the "early call" or "late ending" tapings. I loved it - I was out more, meeting great people and not having to listen to Jake's constant barrage of who was against him now. I finally told him I was moving onto land. I rented a studio apartment in Betsy's building. Jake decided to stay on the boat. We'd worry about who was going to pay for what later - but, hey, the boat payments were coming out of MY paycheck. No matter. I still loved Kraft Mac and Cheese, and would eat it every night if it meant moving ashore. A trial time apart we both agreed.
I moved to Sherman Oaks....lock stock and charm bracelets!
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Cops R Us
So, I scheduled the interview. The Manager in Personnel thought I would be perfect for the position. The main problem as I saw it was that their offices were off the NBC lot. I'd miss having lunch every day in the commissary, but knew I'd be in the studios two or three days a week working on the various shows the network had on the air that required monitoring. I would be working on all the game shows and it sounded like fun.
The Manager of the West Coast Department was an older man....an ex-FBI agent. He was stern looking and the atmosphere in the office was a direct 180 from The Tonight Show. Felt like a "real" job...a "real" interview. He asked me many questions and as I was responding I noticed a framed picture directly over his left shoulder. The man looked familiar but I couldn't figure out exactly who he was so I asked.... "J. Edgar Hoover", was the response. The former head of the FBI, known for his admiration for clothing made for the opposite sex. "He's always looking right over my shoulder so I'm sure to do the right thing". In a word - OY!
But when the job was offered a few days later, I readily accepted. It was time for a change. I gave two weeks notice and went home to tell Jake. It would definitely affect our life - and weekends. Game shows taped later in the day and on weekends. Wherever I was scheduled, I would need to be. No more 10-5 for me.
It would be quite an adventure...
The Manager of the West Coast Department was an older man....an ex-FBI agent. He was stern looking and the atmosphere in the office was a direct 180 from The Tonight Show. Felt like a "real" job...a "real" interview. He asked me many questions and as I was responding I noticed a framed picture directly over his left shoulder. The man looked familiar but I couldn't figure out exactly who he was so I asked.... "J. Edgar Hoover", was the response. The former head of the FBI, known for his admiration for clothing made for the opposite sex. "He's always looking right over my shoulder so I'm sure to do the right thing". In a word - OY!
But when the job was offered a few days later, I readily accepted. It was time for a change. I gave two weeks notice and went home to tell Jake. It would definitely affect our life - and weekends. Game shows taped later in the day and on weekends. Wherever I was scheduled, I would need to be. No more 10-5 for me.
It would be quite an adventure...
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
20 / 20
Have you ever noticed that so many cliches...seemingly stupid sayings...actually turn out to be true? My personal favorite - hindsight is 20/20. From where I stand right now - many years later I see the choice I could have made so clearly, but then how would that have altered every other stage of my life from then on? Drastically...nothing would have been the same. From where I stand right now that would not have been good news.
I thought about it for two days. Seriously thought about it. Pulling out of this life, this city, this boat and this marriage. What I did was call the personnel department and say I wasn't moving up to San Francisco after all. I was going to stay. In Los Angeles, working on the Tonight Show, married to Jake.
Lots of my life during that time was fun. I met people and saw things hanging around NBC that I certainly would have never been a part of had I stayed in Locust Valley. By this time I probably would have had a child of my own had I married that nice young man, instead of every other weekend with four kids I liked a lot but, boy was this boat crowded. Life with Jake was crowded...with drama, turmoil, his unhappiness with what he had determined was his unfair "lot in life". Through no fault of his own - always, according to him - his great talent was being passed over time after time to represent the greater talent coming into the agency. I wished I always believed him but I'd come to notice his complaining was becoming a chronic condition and if I noticed, certainly others did, as well.
The Tonight Show was fun, fun, fun. My pal, Betsy, and I were always coming up with something to fill the extra hours in the day. Let's be honest, working hard was not a Tonight Show job requirement. Most of the jobs were pretty cushy. So Betsy and I hooked rugs and put together "The Tonight Show" scrapbook - fully subsidized by NBC under the auspices of the head of the Prop Department. People walked through our bungalow and said hello. Ed McMahon's office was right behind my desk and every late morning he'd walk in with that booming "Hello Janet and Beth". With him what you saw was truly what you got. He was warm and friendly with HORRIBLE taste in women. He met his second wife, Vickie Lee Valentine in the VIP lounge at some airline. She was a hostess. Later she was "reinvented" as Victoria and had one of the worst attitudes of entitlement I'd ever encountered. Reportedly, at their wedding reception in an over-enebriated state (that was true about him too, he did imbibe)...Victoria said "that's it fatso, we're married now I don't have to be nice". And, from what I understood about their union that was certainly truthful.
Other people were very nice. I met Henry Fonda, on my birthday, and when I shook his hand and told him it was the best thing that had happened that day, re replied, "for me, too". Heady stuff.
I'd return home to the boat and cook delicious meals - tuna or mac and cheese in an electric casserole cooker and, while the weather was mostly wonderful, walking up to the shower every morning was not. What was I thinking? Probably, that it drove my father crazy and that made most of it worth it. The sub conscious mind is a powerful vehicle.
I passed two years on the boat with Jake, his children and spent my days with Johnny Carson and his crew. We produced multiple Alpo commercials - yes, I was there the day the dog wouldn't eat and Johnny came backstage and pretended to munch a mouthful. One day I wandered through the studio and happened to check the job postings. During those days at NBC people on the "inside" got first crack at an open position. One caught my eye...Co-ordinator, Compliance and Practices. It was described as working for the department ensuring the honesty and integrity of game shows. At that time NBC, as well as CBS and ABC had many game shows on the air. Hollywood Squares, Name that Tune, Price is Right, Wheel of Fortune and others. Since NBC had been involved in the game show scandals many years earlier they took the integrity of these productions very seriously. It looked interesting...it paid more money... I was ready for a change.
I called personnel and went up to discuss an interview. I didn't tell Jake.
I thought about it for two days. Seriously thought about it. Pulling out of this life, this city, this boat and this marriage. What I did was call the personnel department and say I wasn't moving up to San Francisco after all. I was going to stay. In Los Angeles, working on the Tonight Show, married to Jake.
Lots of my life during that time was fun. I met people and saw things hanging around NBC that I certainly would have never been a part of had I stayed in Locust Valley. By this time I probably would have had a child of my own had I married that nice young man, instead of every other weekend with four kids I liked a lot but, boy was this boat crowded. Life with Jake was crowded...with drama, turmoil, his unhappiness with what he had determined was his unfair "lot in life". Through no fault of his own - always, according to him - his great talent was being passed over time after time to represent the greater talent coming into the agency. I wished I always believed him but I'd come to notice his complaining was becoming a chronic condition and if I noticed, certainly others did, as well.
The Tonight Show was fun, fun, fun. My pal, Betsy, and I were always coming up with something to fill the extra hours in the day. Let's be honest, working hard was not a Tonight Show job requirement. Most of the jobs were pretty cushy. So Betsy and I hooked rugs and put together "The Tonight Show" scrapbook - fully subsidized by NBC under the auspices of the head of the Prop Department. People walked through our bungalow and said hello. Ed McMahon's office was right behind my desk and every late morning he'd walk in with that booming "Hello Janet and Beth". With him what you saw was truly what you got. He was warm and friendly with HORRIBLE taste in women. He met his second wife, Vickie Lee Valentine in the VIP lounge at some airline. She was a hostess. Later she was "reinvented" as Victoria and had one of the worst attitudes of entitlement I'd ever encountered. Reportedly, at their wedding reception in an over-enebriated state (that was true about him too, he did imbibe)...Victoria said "that's it fatso, we're married now I don't have to be nice". And, from what I understood about their union that was certainly truthful.
Other people were very nice. I met Henry Fonda, on my birthday, and when I shook his hand and told him it was the best thing that had happened that day, re replied, "for me, too". Heady stuff.
I'd return home to the boat and cook delicious meals - tuna or mac and cheese in an electric casserole cooker and, while the weather was mostly wonderful, walking up to the shower every morning was not. What was I thinking? Probably, that it drove my father crazy and that made most of it worth it. The sub conscious mind is a powerful vehicle.
I passed two years on the boat with Jake, his children and spent my days with Johnny Carson and his crew. We produced multiple Alpo commercials - yes, I was there the day the dog wouldn't eat and Johnny came backstage and pretended to munch a mouthful. One day I wandered through the studio and happened to check the job postings. During those days at NBC people on the "inside" got first crack at an open position. One caught my eye...Co-ordinator, Compliance and Practices. It was described as working for the department ensuring the honesty and integrity of game shows. At that time NBC, as well as CBS and ABC had many game shows on the air. Hollywood Squares, Name that Tune, Price is Right, Wheel of Fortune and others. Since NBC had been involved in the game show scandals many years earlier they took the integrity of these productions very seriously. It looked interesting...it paid more money... I was ready for a change.
I called personnel and went up to discuss an interview. I didn't tell Jake.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
A Day in the Life
The boat leaked....luckily, it didn't rain all that often but when it did...it leaked. I tossed around the dining table/bed that night wondering what to do about moving to San Francisco. It was a rare July rain and as I listened and wondered just how much water would be on the back deck when morning came, I also wondered how my life could have seemed so promising and now....not.
Jake slept soundly. Unfortunately, his mid-life crisis included more alcohol than usual. Tab and vodka. He snored. I could certainly use a break from all this. But, was leaving town - again - the answer? San Francisco was a very great place. Had I ever been to California before moving here I would have selected that city above Los Angeles. Smaller, compact and surrounded by water. Cable cars and hilly streets. More seasonal weather. It really is true that sunshine every single day was not always a good thing. I missed the seasons. Christmas with 75 degree weather just wasn't right. But I digress.
Jake slept soundly. Unfortunately, his mid-life crisis included more alcohol than usual. Tab and vodka. He snored. I could certainly use a break from all this. But, was leaving town - again - the answer? San Francisco was a very great place. Had I ever been to California before moving here I would have selected that city above Los Angeles. Smaller, compact and surrounded by water. Cable cars and hilly streets. More seasonal weather. It really is true that sunshine every single day was not always a good thing. I missed the seasons. Christmas with 75 degree weather just wasn't right. But I digress.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Life on the Water....
Yes, I went to the NBC Credit Union and took out a loan to "buy" the boat over the next seven years. It was a pretty, albeit old, wooden Chris Craft cabin cruiser. There was an enclosed back, which meant the deck with the steering wheel and engines beneath was our living room. Down into the cabin you found a dining table, which converted to our bed and a very small kitchen - thank God for crock pots. The front of the boat - or the bow - had a "v" berth with room for two tiny people. Jake's sons fit snugly. They loved the adventure and for about a month, so did I. Or did I just love my father's reaction - "Holy Sh*t...you've lost your mind". Perhaps I had.
The closet held about five work outfits and - get this - the "head" aka bathroom was not to be used at dock. No worries - a restroom complete with showers were a mere 1/4 mile up the dock. As I write this I shudder in disbelief at what I chose as my reality during that time of my life. At the time I thought of the boat as a large water bed.
I wish I could say things were good. But, Jake was not having fun with his "mid life crisis". It involved dramatic changes at work where he was relegated to managing people no one had ever heard of and, more than likely, never would. The financial strains of his first life were creating damaging cracks in his second. Post taxes and boat payments, my salary was stretched and I was not the happiest of campers, either.
We decided to go to San Francisco for our first anniversary - which was also my 25th birthday. Jake had a conference to attend so I had free time during the day. Don't ask me what possessed me, but I called an employment agency and went on an interview at an advertising agency. Down by the wharf, large brick buildings, San Francisco was a seductive city, for sure. While the agency wasn't The Tonight Show, there were good accounts and the dangling carrot of a Jr. Account Executive position should I do well in this entry level post. They liked me and would let me know in a few days.
That night I called my mom while Jake was still in meetings...turning 25 was a milestone and I let her know I was feeling "old". Her response, "what do you care about being 25 - you're married". And, she wasn't even crazy about the guy - it was the status that counted. Can you understand why my life-view was skewed...and screwed?
We flew back to Los Angeles and life went on. Jake's unhappiness and my days spent at the Tonight Show. About a week later I received a phone call from the employment agency. They were offering me the job. The money was significantly higher than what I was making.
I had twenty four hours to make the decision.
The closet held about five work outfits and - get this - the "head" aka bathroom was not to be used at dock. No worries - a restroom complete with showers were a mere 1/4 mile up the dock. As I write this I shudder in disbelief at what I chose as my reality during that time of my life. At the time I thought of the boat as a large water bed.
I wish I could say things were good. But, Jake was not having fun with his "mid life crisis". It involved dramatic changes at work where he was relegated to managing people no one had ever heard of and, more than likely, never would. The financial strains of his first life were creating damaging cracks in his second. Post taxes and boat payments, my salary was stretched and I was not the happiest of campers, either.
We decided to go to San Francisco for our first anniversary - which was also my 25th birthday. Jake had a conference to attend so I had free time during the day. Don't ask me what possessed me, but I called an employment agency and went on an interview at an advertising agency. Down by the wharf, large brick buildings, San Francisco was a seductive city, for sure. While the agency wasn't The Tonight Show, there were good accounts and the dangling carrot of a Jr. Account Executive position should I do well in this entry level post. They liked me and would let me know in a few days.
That night I called my mom while Jake was still in meetings...turning 25 was a milestone and I let her know I was feeling "old". Her response, "what do you care about being 25 - you're married". And, she wasn't even crazy about the guy - it was the status that counted. Can you understand why my life-view was skewed...and screwed?
We flew back to Los Angeles and life went on. Jake's unhappiness and my days spent at the Tonight Show. About a week later I received a phone call from the employment agency. They were offering me the job. The money was significantly higher than what I was making.
I had twenty four hours to make the decision.
A Married Woman....
My life had certainly changed dramatically. Working on the Tonight Show AND being married. Jake and I knew we had to find another place to live - hotels on the weekends with his kids were cost-prohibitive, and the guest house was barely large enough for two. My landlord wasn't thrilled with the change of events, either. He'd rented the place to a single woman - not a family of six. A family of six? How the heck had that happened, even part time?
Jakes, ex-wife, Laura, tried to get "on board" with this marriage thing, but any fool could see she would have been happy to have remained the current Mrs. Howe rather than the "ex". The house in the Hollywood Hills was beautiful but difficult to maintain on one strained income. Laura was a "stay at home" and wanted to stay that way. I,on the other hand, had no problem working. I loved it. And I loved seeing his kids every other weekend, even if we were a bit crowded.
Looking for a place to rent proved challenging for several reasons.
I haven't spoken much about Jake's work other than to say he was an "agent". Well, there are all sorts of agents, some with high ticket clients, others not so high. There are all sorts of agencies too. Jake was "almost in the middle" on both counts. He represented people you'd maybe recognize but not necessarily know their names, except for the couple on "Days of our Lives"....everyone knew who they were. And that explained why Jake was in the halls on NBC the day we met.
Since the divorce Jake had been in a professional slump. He had an eye for talent but now not so much. His boss wasn't thrilled with the situation and a remedy needed to be found fairly quickly. With his 40th birthday looming in the not so distant future, Jake was not a happy camper.
I, on the other hand, was having a great time at work. Betsy and I had become great friends and I lived vicariously through her social calendar. One night Chevy Chase coming over for dinner - this was before he was "the" Chevy Chase but merely a writer on the Smothers Brothers Show. Another night an unknown comedian, Freddie Prinze, was sleeping on her couch awaiting his first appearance on the Tonight Show.
I enjoyed my job - even putting Alpo in the bowl for the pups before the commercial. There was a professional dog trainer, of course, and the dogs always arrived hungry. Except for the night one didn't and just stared at the dish. Ever the comedian and quick-wit, Johnny ran back stage and pretended to gobble the food. I stood right there watching what became a famous Tonight Show story.
None of this helped us find a place to live, though, and time was running out. Sidney Salkow was less than enthusiastic as every other weekend approached and finally said, "one month more, Janet". We ramped up the search. We had almost decided on a small rental in Burbank with two bedrooms and enough room for bunk beds and a couch for Sylvie, his four year old daughter.
Jake had moved most of his things from the small boat but on his last trip he noticed a "for sale" sign on a significantly larger cabin cruiser on his dock. He returned enthusiastically pitching this as our next home. I'd love life on the water. The freedom, the fun of taking our "house" out for a sunset cruise. And there would be room for the kids. How big was this floating palace? 32 feet. In the spirit of being stupid I went to take a look. It was a nice boat, it wasn't hideously expensive and it might be fun for a little while. But we had to pay cash and that wasn't our largest commodity right now.
How about my taking out a loan at the NBC credit union? It could come right out of my paycheck.
We moved onto the boat about two months before my 25th birthday and our first anniversary.
Jakes, ex-wife, Laura, tried to get "on board" with this marriage thing, but any fool could see she would have been happy to have remained the current Mrs. Howe rather than the "ex". The house in the Hollywood Hills was beautiful but difficult to maintain on one strained income. Laura was a "stay at home" and wanted to stay that way. I,on the other hand, had no problem working. I loved it. And I loved seeing his kids every other weekend, even if we were a bit crowded.
Looking for a place to rent proved challenging for several reasons.
I haven't spoken much about Jake's work other than to say he was an "agent". Well, there are all sorts of agents, some with high ticket clients, others not so high. There are all sorts of agencies too. Jake was "almost in the middle" on both counts. He represented people you'd maybe recognize but not necessarily know their names, except for the couple on "Days of our Lives"....everyone knew who they were. And that explained why Jake was in the halls on NBC the day we met.
Since the divorce Jake had been in a professional slump. He had an eye for talent but now not so much. His boss wasn't thrilled with the situation and a remedy needed to be found fairly quickly. With his 40th birthday looming in the not so distant future, Jake was not a happy camper.
I, on the other hand, was having a great time at work. Betsy and I had become great friends and I lived vicariously through her social calendar. One night Chevy Chase coming over for dinner - this was before he was "the" Chevy Chase but merely a writer on the Smothers Brothers Show. Another night an unknown comedian, Freddie Prinze, was sleeping on her couch awaiting his first appearance on the Tonight Show.
I enjoyed my job - even putting Alpo in the bowl for the pups before the commercial. There was a professional dog trainer, of course, and the dogs always arrived hungry. Except for the night one didn't and just stared at the dish. Ever the comedian and quick-wit, Johnny ran back stage and pretended to gobble the food. I stood right there watching what became a famous Tonight Show story.
None of this helped us find a place to live, though, and time was running out. Sidney Salkow was less than enthusiastic as every other weekend approached and finally said, "one month more, Janet". We ramped up the search. We had almost decided on a small rental in Burbank with two bedrooms and enough room for bunk beds and a couch for Sylvie, his four year old daughter.
Jake had moved most of his things from the small boat but on his last trip he noticed a "for sale" sign on a significantly larger cabin cruiser on his dock. He returned enthusiastically pitching this as our next home. I'd love life on the water. The freedom, the fun of taking our "house" out for a sunset cruise. And there would be room for the kids. How big was this floating palace? 32 feet. In the spirit of being stupid I went to take a look. It was a nice boat, it wasn't hideously expensive and it might be fun for a little while. But we had to pay cash and that wasn't our largest commodity right now.
How about my taking out a loan at the NBC credit union? It could come right out of my paycheck.
We moved onto the boat about two months before my 25th birthday and our first anniversary.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Heeeeeeeeeere's Janet....Howe
A week later I started my new job on The Tonight Show with my new name - Janet Howe. Unless you've grown up with a name like Mafera (M as in Mary a F as in Frank e-r-a) you can't possibly understand how nice a simple last name could be. A new job, a new name and a new life. Amazing - dreams can come true.
My first few days of marriage were less than idyllic. Suffice it to say my father was not a huge fan of Jake's. Perhaps it was the age difference, perhaps it was the divorce thing, perhaps the four kids. Come to think of it, there was a pretty long list of why this was not his ideal choice of a son-in-law. (note: post therapy I understood it all more clearly but that's for another chapter) As always, my mother tried to put a positive spin on things. She sent out marriage announcements. The same print and card stock as the "wedding that never happened". A few gifts trickled in and I displayed the Waterford pitcher proudly. We were going to live in my guest house and look for a bigger place.
But, first things first....my first day on The Tonight Show. I walked in without a clue as to what to expect. The basic job description: the commercial production assistant helps in the production of live and pre-taped commercials to air on the Tonight Show, i.e., Alpo spots as the most sterling example I can think of. I was also responsible for typing (yup, still typing) the daily commercial log ensuring the right commercial was in the right place. If it was a 60 second commercial the advertiser was entitled to a "live" lead-in read by Johnny himself. So, I wrote the scintillating copy, such as "We'll be right back after this message from United Airlines".
Show business was my life!
The people on the show were great. Betsy worked for the head talent co-ordinator and was a gorgeous, smart girl about a year younger than I. Her desk was near mine and I soon discovered she was the girl everybody wanted to date. My desk sat outside Ed McMahon's office and as he would stroll in everyday there would be the bellowing "Good morning ladies". My desk was also right by the coffee machine where Fred DeCordova discovered I blushed at the "F-word"....and was so amused by it that he used it every time he walked past me. Not to be out done I learned how to use it myself. Unfortunately it's a habit that has been hard to break. But, again, I digress.
That first day found me amazed at everything. The other part of my job was attending rehearsal and making sure the right commercial had been inserted in the show for the feed to New York. The show was taped from 5:30-7:00PM - it was ninety minutes then - and some times I would be expected to be at the taping. Advertising agency folks sat up in a viewing room to report that they had, indeed, seen the right commercial directly inserted in the show.
The first night my boss said, "You can't be backstage tonight. We have to let Johnny know you're here". What? Somebody was going to tell Johnny Carson about me???? Truthfully, it was really that he didn't like anything different back stage. The second night of my tenure I sat silently on a stool as the director, Bobby Quinn walked him through the studio doors. The same thing happened every night. Ed would do the warm up and Bobby would go up-stairs and get Johnny to walk him through the studio - right up to the place behind the curtain where he would stand until Ed announced, "Heeeeeeere's Johnny".
That night Johnny Carson looked over at me and nodded slightly as he walked past me.
I had died and gone to heaven....honestly!!!
My first few days of marriage were less than idyllic. Suffice it to say my father was not a huge fan of Jake's. Perhaps it was the age difference, perhaps it was the divorce thing, perhaps the four kids. Come to think of it, there was a pretty long list of why this was not his ideal choice of a son-in-law. (note: post therapy I understood it all more clearly but that's for another chapter) As always, my mother tried to put a positive spin on things. She sent out marriage announcements. The same print and card stock as the "wedding that never happened". A few gifts trickled in and I displayed the Waterford pitcher proudly. We were going to live in my guest house and look for a bigger place.
But, first things first....my first day on The Tonight Show. I walked in without a clue as to what to expect. The basic job description: the commercial production assistant helps in the production of live and pre-taped commercials to air on the Tonight Show, i.e., Alpo spots as the most sterling example I can think of. I was also responsible for typing (yup, still typing) the daily commercial log ensuring the right commercial was in the right place. If it was a 60 second commercial the advertiser was entitled to a "live" lead-in read by Johnny himself. So, I wrote the scintillating copy, such as "We'll be right back after this message from United Airlines".
Show business was my life!
The people on the show were great. Betsy worked for the head talent co-ordinator and was a gorgeous, smart girl about a year younger than I. Her desk was near mine and I soon discovered she was the girl everybody wanted to date. My desk sat outside Ed McMahon's office and as he would stroll in everyday there would be the bellowing "Good morning ladies". My desk was also right by the coffee machine where Fred DeCordova discovered I blushed at the "F-word"....and was so amused by it that he used it every time he walked past me. Not to be out done I learned how to use it myself. Unfortunately it's a habit that has been hard to break. But, again, I digress.
That first day found me amazed at everything. The other part of my job was attending rehearsal and making sure the right commercial had been inserted in the show for the feed to New York. The show was taped from 5:30-7:00PM - it was ninety minutes then - and some times I would be expected to be at the taping. Advertising agency folks sat up in a viewing room to report that they had, indeed, seen the right commercial directly inserted in the show.
The first night my boss said, "You can't be backstage tonight. We have to let Johnny know you're here". What? Somebody was going to tell Johnny Carson about me???? Truthfully, it was really that he didn't like anything different back stage. The second night of my tenure I sat silently on a stool as the director, Bobby Quinn walked him through the studio doors. The same thing happened every night. Ed would do the warm up and Bobby would go up-stairs and get Johnny to walk him through the studio - right up to the place behind the curtain where he would stand until Ed announced, "Heeeeeeere's Johnny".
That night Johnny Carson looked over at me and nodded slightly as he walked past me.
I had died and gone to heaven....honestly!!!
Nest Steps
Let's fast forward eighteen months. It is now July 1973. My 24th birthday. Jake and I have been seeing each other - mostly exclusively - since that first date. I say mostly because ever four months or so I would think "what am I doing" and say goodbye for a couple of weeks. Jake didn't like to be alone, so relatively quickly I'd hear of a "sighting" of him with somebody else and decide I certainly couldn't survive without him.
I was still working at KNBC. The Sales Department was becoming pretty dull by this time. I could type proposals and magnify expense accounts in my sleep. One of the great things about NBC were the job postings on bulletin boards all around the place. I'd stop from time to time and check it out.
One day, much to my surprise, I saw a posting for The Tonight Show. The real one with Johnny Carson. They had moved to Burbank from New York the year before and the commercial production assistant was moving on. I couldn't apply for that job fast enough. I was far from the only applicant, but as a former New Yorker I think I had the inside track. Most of the staff had come out from New York the year before. Several of the Talent Coordinators were attending AA meetings during lunch time - big difference between walking the streets of NY after hoisting a few during the taping and hopping on the 405 in a car you weren't used to driving. I loved the small building - "bungalow", they called it at the end of the studios that held the show offices. All except Mr. Carsons'. He was a very shy man and preferred to be behind locked glass doors at the top of the studio.
After two interviews I was told the job was mine. What was a commercial production assistant, anyway? More to be revealed. But, my working on the show made page three of the Locust Valley Leader. I had arrived. I was going to start the new job in a week.
Jake and I were spending most of our time together at my place. I'd left Lakeside and was living in the guest house on the estate of an old time movie producer in Toluca Lake. The house was right next door to where Bing Crosby lived many years ago. This house belonged to Sidney Salkow, who produced the original Lolita. The guest cottage didn't have a real kitchen - a hot plate and toaster oven with the sink in the bathroom - but that was ok because there was a pretty cool expense account at Jake's agency. He still lived on the boat, too. The divorce had not been smooth. His "ex" wanted to keep the house - easier on the kids. Harder on Jake's wallet.
Don't get me wrong. I really liked his kids...a lot. They spent every other weekend with him - he'd rent a hotel room and I'd visit, always leaving before bed time. The eldest boy thought I was special. A pre-teen's dream. The ex-wife - not so much. I've always maintained that if two women love the same man they'd probably like one another - if the man in question wasn't in the picture. But, obviously, this was not the case. Laura hadn't met anyone and wasn't so thrilled that Jake had. Especially that this someone was fourteen years younger. She was civil but we kept our distance.
On my 24th birthday Jake took me to a very special dinner. In Las Vegas. So big a surprise that my best friend and her husband came along, too. We met them at the airport and spent the night enjoying ourselves. I didn't win at roulette but around 1AM, Jake looked at me and said "let's get married".
Before I could seriously sift through the haze of champagne cocktails I heard myself agree.
And, so that's how I wound up at the Little Chapel in the West.
I was still working at KNBC. The Sales Department was becoming pretty dull by this time. I could type proposals and magnify expense accounts in my sleep. One of the great things about NBC were the job postings on bulletin boards all around the place. I'd stop from time to time and check it out.
One day, much to my surprise, I saw a posting for The Tonight Show. The real one with Johnny Carson. They had moved to Burbank from New York the year before and the commercial production assistant was moving on. I couldn't apply for that job fast enough. I was far from the only applicant, but as a former New Yorker I think I had the inside track. Most of the staff had come out from New York the year before. Several of the Talent Coordinators were attending AA meetings during lunch time - big difference between walking the streets of NY after hoisting a few during the taping and hopping on the 405 in a car you weren't used to driving. I loved the small building - "bungalow", they called it at the end of the studios that held the show offices. All except Mr. Carsons'. He was a very shy man and preferred to be behind locked glass doors at the top of the studio.
After two interviews I was told the job was mine. What was a commercial production assistant, anyway? More to be revealed. But, my working on the show made page three of the Locust Valley Leader. I had arrived. I was going to start the new job in a week.
Jake and I were spending most of our time together at my place. I'd left Lakeside and was living in the guest house on the estate of an old time movie producer in Toluca Lake. The house was right next door to where Bing Crosby lived many years ago. This house belonged to Sidney Salkow, who produced the original Lolita. The guest cottage didn't have a real kitchen - a hot plate and toaster oven with the sink in the bathroom - but that was ok because there was a pretty cool expense account at Jake's agency. He still lived on the boat, too. The divorce had not been smooth. His "ex" wanted to keep the house - easier on the kids. Harder on Jake's wallet.
Don't get me wrong. I really liked his kids...a lot. They spent every other weekend with him - he'd rent a hotel room and I'd visit, always leaving before bed time. The eldest boy thought I was special. A pre-teen's dream. The ex-wife - not so much. I've always maintained that if two women love the same man they'd probably like one another - if the man in question wasn't in the picture. But, obviously, this was not the case. Laura hadn't met anyone and wasn't so thrilled that Jake had. Especially that this someone was fourteen years younger. She was civil but we kept our distance.
On my 24th birthday Jake took me to a very special dinner. In Las Vegas. So big a surprise that my best friend and her husband came along, too. We met them at the airport and spent the night enjoying ourselves. I didn't win at roulette but around 1AM, Jake looked at me and said "let's get married".
Before I could seriously sift through the haze of champagne cocktails I heard myself agree.
And, so that's how I wound up at the Little Chapel in the West.
First Date - Hollywood Style
Musso & Frank was a Hollywood legend in and of itself. Founded in 1919, I honestly thought several of the original curt and crusty waiters were still on board. Walking through the door put me back in the hey dey of the city. The ghosts of celebrities and days gone by permeated the walls. The food was heavy and there wasn't a thing I would change about the place...ever. Certain important folks had their own booths - Ralph Edwards, creator of "This is Your Life" and executive producer of many fabulous old shows - which remained empty during certain hours "just in case".
I decided to meet Jake there. At least I'd be certain of a ride home...a repeat of the jab I'd given him when we decided on the time and place. He was waiting at a table in the "fancy" room. Not a bad table, I'd later learn, and the waiter knew his name. I'd barely slept the night before - yeah, I liked him. Must admit that I looked pretty good after changing clothes nineteen times. I've always been "cute", a description I've never been especially fond of. But, at 23 it fit.
Jake was better than cute...he was downright handsome. His blue blazer, open shirt and gray slacks with loafers were perfect. It turned out Jake was born and raised in Pennsylvania. Another East Coast defector. He'd been in Los Angeles fifteen years. He had just turned 37. Almost fourteen years older than me. It didn't matter.
The evening flew by in a blur. We talked as if we'd known each other for years. Laughed a little about Vegas..I said a little. He'd gotten separated over the holidays the year before. They'd married young and moved out to L.A. together. Nobody's fault, they'd just turned out to be very different people at 37 than they were at 22. Wouldn't you think I just might have filed that comment away for future reference? Nah, I was already seriously infatuated with this person.
He'd let her stay in the house in the Hollywood Hills while he was bunking on a friends' boat in the Marina. A 22 foot cabin cruiser...cozy? No, cramped. It was just until all the financials were settled. Best to keep things simple for the sake of the kids.
KIDS??????? Yes, four of them...three boys and a girl. They ranged from 12 down to 4.
Don't you remember, I learn things the hard way?
I agreed to see him again...and again.
I decided to meet Jake there. At least I'd be certain of a ride home...a repeat of the jab I'd given him when we decided on the time and place. He was waiting at a table in the "fancy" room. Not a bad table, I'd later learn, and the waiter knew his name. I'd barely slept the night before - yeah, I liked him. Must admit that I looked pretty good after changing clothes nineteen times. I've always been "cute", a description I've never been especially fond of. But, at 23 it fit.
Jake was better than cute...he was downright handsome. His blue blazer, open shirt and gray slacks with loafers were perfect. It turned out Jake was born and raised in Pennsylvania. Another East Coast defector. He'd been in Los Angeles fifteen years. He had just turned 37. Almost fourteen years older than me. It didn't matter.
The evening flew by in a blur. We talked as if we'd known each other for years. Laughed a little about Vegas..I said a little. He'd gotten separated over the holidays the year before. They'd married young and moved out to L.A. together. Nobody's fault, they'd just turned out to be very different people at 37 than they were at 22. Wouldn't you think I just might have filed that comment away for future reference? Nah, I was already seriously infatuated with this person.
He'd let her stay in the house in the Hollywood Hills while he was bunking on a friends' boat in the Marina. A 22 foot cabin cruiser...cozy? No, cramped. It was just until all the financials were settled. Best to keep things simple for the sake of the kids.
KIDS??????? Yes, four of them...three boys and a girl. They ranged from 12 down to 4.
Don't you remember, I learn things the hard way?
I agreed to see him again...and again.
Conciliatory Commissary Conversation
It was late on a Thursday afternoon. I remember exactly. Jake and I walked over to the commissary in silence and each got a cup of coffee. It was very quiet all around...a dead time before the early dinner diners arrived. We found a table and sat, just looking at each other for a minute or so. I wasn't in the mood to let him off the hook. But I was happy to see him. The spark I'd felt in Las Vegas was still there. He actually looked even better...thinner...a touch of gray in his dark hair. I wondered just how old he was. We'd never gotten to that part of the conversation.
"I've thought about you", he said..."and felt lousy about what I did".
"Oh, making me walk three miles at 5AM in a weird city like Las Vegas?", I countered.
"Yes...among other things", he replied.
Silence...
Finally Jake just started talking...free form stream of consciousness one might say. He had been in a "bad" place, behaving badly, thought I was adorable and knew he acted like a total a**hole. Why? He was married.
The coffee curdled in my stomach. Of course he was married.
Still didn't explain why he couldn't drive me back to the motel, but I let him off the hook on that. He was on a much bigger hook - married??
"Well, ok, nice to see you, take care", I said and got up from the table.
"No, wait", he put his hand on my arm to stop me. "I said, I WAS married...I'm not anymore. Please, have dinner with me tomorrow night. And, please tell me your last name".
I had a couple questions of my own. His last name? Howe What agency did he work for - it really was in Beverly Hills. Was he really no longer married. Yes.
We agreed to meet Friday at 8:00PM at Musso & Franks.
"I've thought about you", he said..."and felt lousy about what I did".
"Oh, making me walk three miles at 5AM in a weird city like Las Vegas?", I countered.
"Yes...among other things", he replied.
Silence...
Finally Jake just started talking...free form stream of consciousness one might say. He had been in a "bad" place, behaving badly, thought I was adorable and knew he acted like a total a**hole. Why? He was married.
The coffee curdled in my stomach. Of course he was married.
Still didn't explain why he couldn't drive me back to the motel, but I let him off the hook on that. He was on a much bigger hook - married??
"Well, ok, nice to see you, take care", I said and got up from the table.
"No, wait", he put his hand on my arm to stop me. "I said, I WAS married...I'm not anymore. Please, have dinner with me tomorrow night. And, please tell me your last name".
I had a couple questions of my own. His last name? Howe What agency did he work for - it really was in Beverly Hills. Was he really no longer married. Yes.
We agreed to meet Friday at 8:00PM at Musso & Franks.
Hallowed Halls and Unlimited Long Distance....
First let me say that I will always be a devotee of the "Peacock". In June of 1971 it was the best network and the best place to work. Add that to the best weather imaginable you had me, about to turn 22, having the best time. I'd moved into another Lakeside Apartment - my mother used to say "she moves when the oven gets dirty", like the oven ever got dirty. I'd really moved because I was tired of thinking of the earthquake and tired of the furniture. All the apartments looked alike but some were better furnished. Having befriended one of the rental agents I had my choice of the available one-bedrooms and, once again, packed up the Triumph Spitfire for a move around the block. I'd outgrown the daisy decals and cork board and purchased several framed posters with my first charge card. My pay had now increased to a huge $750 a month pre-tax, so it was still tight paying that $175 a month rent. Luckily, Kraft Mystery Dinners were only 19 cents each. And, "Happy Hour" at El Torrito became a weekly supplement to my diet. What I'd give for that metabolism today!
The people at KNBC Sales were fun. Salesmen, all, enjoying the perks of their lucrative positions. It was pre-women doing much of anything work-wise other than being "assistants" and the occasional on-air weather girl. Yes, they did call her the "weather girl". Tom Brokaw did the 6:00PM local news and had a speech impediment like Barbara Walters. What they wouldn't have given for different names. But, he sure was cute.
Our offices were in the Administration Building but we were in the same building as the commissary and across the "midway" parking area from the studios.
My NBC ID card gave me access to the entire lot. I was a kid in a candy store sampling never before seen sweets. This was incredible. Rowan and Martin's Laugh-In taped in one of the studios and the cast, including Goldie Hawn, could often be seen moving through the cafeteria style line at the commissary. Rowan was a funny, nice man. Martin, not so much. He always looked, and acted, like he was in a bad mood, except on television.
My job as "sales assistant" was typing (uh huh, typing) sales proposals, contracts and the like for my two bosses. They sold commercial time on the station, I was the back-up. I begged often for a shot at a "junior" sales position but was told "no" emphatically. But I was allowed to help prepare proposals...silly girl, that was the major part of the job. Creatively managing demographic points into the desire formula to get the "buy". The guys brought my proposals - after careful checking, but c'mon all you had to do was read a ratings book to pull up the numbers - and took the buyers out to very long, liquid lunches. The most creative part of my job was putting together their weekly expense reports. Before the day of mandatory credit card receipts, the bottom of restaurant bills were purposely left blank for just this purpose. I'd be handed a stack of "bottoms" and fill them in with names and numbers. Goal: $70 a week. Their expense accounts could have paid for my apartment and car insurance. But, the "tie-lines", phone lines were accessible to all. You'd pick up a phone, give the operator a number and be connected, no questions asked. So, I saved quite a bit on phone bills. Considering that was a major expense in my youth - a very good thing!
I loved working there. At lunch time my girlfriends and I would roam the halls of the studios, peeking into rehearsal stores and un-locked studios. The crew members were friendly guys. I dated a camera man briefly and then discovered his divorce wasn't really final - in fact, the papers hadn't been filed. In fact, he was moving back home. Ouch! Six months went by very quickly.
Holiday time in Burbank was special. Big trees, fully decorated. The same at NBC. The holiday spirit had to be decorating-ly enhanced because the weather was always a glorious 72 degrees then. With sunny, blue skies. A winter coat was a distant memory. My family had planned to return again for Christmas and I hoped for a better dinner at Sorrentino's. Surely, Big Joe would approve of my life now.
It was the week before Christmas and I was walking down the halls between studios 1 and 3 heading for a destination I can't remember right now. A vaguely familiar man passed me walking in the opposite directions. We both did a double take, stopped and turned around.
The man looked at me with a question mark in his eyes. I knew who he was but wasn't going to speak first. After what seemed minutes, it clicked and he said "Janet? What are you doing here?". "Working", I replied and started to continue along my way. "Wait, let's talk", he said.
Surely you must know, it was Jake.
The people at KNBC Sales were fun. Salesmen, all, enjoying the perks of their lucrative positions. It was pre-women doing much of anything work-wise other than being "assistants" and the occasional on-air weather girl. Yes, they did call her the "weather girl". Tom Brokaw did the 6:00PM local news and had a speech impediment like Barbara Walters. What they wouldn't have given for different names. But, he sure was cute.
Our offices were in the Administration Building but we were in the same building as the commissary and across the "midway" parking area from the studios.
My NBC ID card gave me access to the entire lot. I was a kid in a candy store sampling never before seen sweets. This was incredible. Rowan and Martin's Laugh-In taped in one of the studios and the cast, including Goldie Hawn, could often be seen moving through the cafeteria style line at the commissary. Rowan was a funny, nice man. Martin, not so much. He always looked, and acted, like he was in a bad mood, except on television.
My job as "sales assistant" was typing (uh huh, typing) sales proposals, contracts and the like for my two bosses. They sold commercial time on the station, I was the back-up. I begged often for a shot at a "junior" sales position but was told "no" emphatically. But I was allowed to help prepare proposals...silly girl, that was the major part of the job. Creatively managing demographic points into the desire formula to get the "buy". The guys brought my proposals - after careful checking, but c'mon all you had to do was read a ratings book to pull up the numbers - and took the buyers out to very long, liquid lunches. The most creative part of my job was putting together their weekly expense reports. Before the day of mandatory credit card receipts, the bottom of restaurant bills were purposely left blank for just this purpose. I'd be handed a stack of "bottoms" and fill them in with names and numbers. Goal: $70 a week. Their expense accounts could have paid for my apartment and car insurance. But, the "tie-lines", phone lines were accessible to all. You'd pick up a phone, give the operator a number and be connected, no questions asked. So, I saved quite a bit on phone bills. Considering that was a major expense in my youth - a very good thing!
I loved working there. At lunch time my girlfriends and I would roam the halls of the studios, peeking into rehearsal stores and un-locked studios. The crew members were friendly guys. I dated a camera man briefly and then discovered his divorce wasn't really final - in fact, the papers hadn't been filed. In fact, he was moving back home. Ouch! Six months went by very quickly.
Holiday time in Burbank was special. Big trees, fully decorated. The same at NBC. The holiday spirit had to be decorating-ly enhanced because the weather was always a glorious 72 degrees then. With sunny, blue skies. A winter coat was a distant memory. My family had planned to return again for Christmas and I hoped for a better dinner at Sorrentino's. Surely, Big Joe would approve of my life now.
It was the week before Christmas and I was walking down the halls between studios 1 and 3 heading for a destination I can't remember right now. A vaguely familiar man passed me walking in the opposite directions. We both did a double take, stopped and turned around.
The man looked at me with a question mark in his eyes. I knew who he was but wasn't going to speak first. After what seemed minutes, it clicked and he said "Janet? What are you doing here?". "Working", I replied and started to continue along my way. "Wait, let's talk", he said.
Surely you must know, it was Jake.
Howdy Doody, NBC and Me
My parents drove me to the airport. My father barely spoke and my mother cried...beginning to notice the pattern here? Those were the days of everybody walking up to the gate and standing around until the last minute before the traveler got on board. I was anxious to be on my way. As we said goodbye for the tenth time my mother put a piece of paper in my hand and said,"Go have dinner with the Watermans". The Watermans were old family friends. Sam Waterman worked in televsion in "the city" and had been Stage Manager on the Howdy Doody Show during my youth. A favorite picture is me sitting on the lap of Gabby Hayes with my childhood nemesis, Marki Smithson. Marki and I had attended a show and saw Howdy, Princess Summerfallwinterspring, Clarabelle the Clown and Buffalo Bob's cousin right up close. In fact I sat in the seat right next to Bob's cousin (think Buffalo Bob was in rehab - no, seriously, no) and in front of me was a package of Twinkies. I thought they were for me...I took a bite out of one. There was quite the scrambling for a new package when they went to commercial break and realized the "prop" had been opened and eaten. My first show business experience.
The Waterman family had moved to Los Angeles a couple of years earlier when Sam was given a pretty high job at NBC. On some level their being in the same city had helped my mother help me move to L.A. As I flew back, smoking a cigarette and sipping a cocktail, I thought I might as well give them a call.
Settling back into my routine was simple. One of the "Gold Diggers" and I went to the Smoke House for dinner - the best cheese garlic bread in the world. One order and a glass of wine = dinner. She really was from Kansas, a few years older than I, and told wonderful tales about working at NBC on the Dean Martin Show. He really was a nice man, not a drinker at all - those glasses always held apple juice and was about to marry an under 30 year old.
Dinner at the Watermans was fun, I must admit. Hearing more about NBC made me think that my time at the Television Code should come to an end. Did Mr. Waterman think I should apply for a job there? Well, why not? He would make a call to personnel.
Two months and three interviews later I was to start as a sales assistant at KNBC - the NBC owned affiliate...in Beautiful Downtown Burbank.
I was on my way....to who knew where.
The Waterman family had moved to Los Angeles a couple of years earlier when Sam was given a pretty high job at NBC. On some level their being in the same city had helped my mother help me move to L.A. As I flew back, smoking a cigarette and sipping a cocktail, I thought I might as well give them a call.
Settling back into my routine was simple. One of the "Gold Diggers" and I went to the Smoke House for dinner - the best cheese garlic bread in the world. One order and a glass of wine = dinner. She really was from Kansas, a few years older than I, and told wonderful tales about working at NBC on the Dean Martin Show. He really was a nice man, not a drinker at all - those glasses always held apple juice and was about to marry an under 30 year old.
Dinner at the Watermans was fun, I must admit. Hearing more about NBC made me think that my time at the Television Code should come to an end. Did Mr. Waterman think I should apply for a job there? Well, why not? He would make a call to personnel.
Two months and three interviews later I was to start as a sales assistant at KNBC - the NBC owned affiliate...in Beautiful Downtown Burbank.
I was on my way....to who knew where.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
And then.....
I startled awake thinking there was another earthquake, but this time it really was the garage door opening beneath my bedroom. I was back in Kansas, Dorothy. And I wondered if I'd have the courage to leave again. Why not return to Locust Valley? And do....what? When you've planned your life around a man and the relationship fails, so does the planned life. And, I'd failed to find a real replacement.
Ironically, that very day was the 24th birthday of the nice boy I didn't marry. We hadn't spoken word one since the night I'd given him back his ring and listened to what he had to say..."some day some one will hurt you the way you've hurt me and you'll know what it's like". Sixteen months later found me wondering how he was. Not for the first time.
I went downstairs to the all-familiar kitchen. My father had left,no doubt wishing to continue our non-conversation, so Emmy and I sat down over a cup of coffee. Long before Starbucks there was instant Maxwell House. The New York Daily News sat on the table with cover photos of Los Angeles looking like a war zone. Truth be told, this earthquake damaged one area significantly but no where else. I guess the era of sensational journalism had begun long before I realized it. My mom was an amazing comfort. She understood my confusion and while she would have loved me to return home I know she knew it was best if I didn't. Yet she would listen and help me to come to my decision without judgment. Most of my friends weren't around so the next day loomed with a lot of time to soul search. And drive around town.
I felt all sorts of memories rushing back. I rode past many of my friends' houses, familiar roads and haunts, the high school, the house "the nice boy" and I had rented to live in after the wedding and found myself parked outside "the family restaurant".
It was lunch time and I saw a familiar face behind the grill. I sat in the car, unobserved, for a half hour or more. I was either going to open the door and get out or drive away.
I knew in my heart the time for looking back was over.
That night I went out with my best friend from high school. Geri had gotten married and had a brand new baby girl, who was my goddaughter. What an adorable little treasure. I envied Geri her newly settled status. Her husband seemed like a nice guy from a wealthy family. They were moving to Florida for him to finish a post graduate degree. But we had one night out together - we went to a familiar old haunt, the "Gold Coast" where she ran into the love of her life in high school. I thought I saw a couple of sparks but just knew she was the one who was going to live "happily ever after".
As for me, I returned to Los Angeles the next day.
Ironically, that very day was the 24th birthday of the nice boy I didn't marry. We hadn't spoken word one since the night I'd given him back his ring and listened to what he had to say..."some day some one will hurt you the way you've hurt me and you'll know what it's like". Sixteen months later found me wondering how he was. Not for the first time.
I went downstairs to the all-familiar kitchen. My father had left,no doubt wishing to continue our non-conversation, so Emmy and I sat down over a cup of coffee. Long before Starbucks there was instant Maxwell House. The New York Daily News sat on the table with cover photos of Los Angeles looking like a war zone. Truth be told, this earthquake damaged one area significantly but no where else. I guess the era of sensational journalism had begun long before I realized it. My mom was an amazing comfort. She understood my confusion and while she would have loved me to return home I know she knew it was best if I didn't. Yet she would listen and help me to come to my decision without judgment. Most of my friends weren't around so the next day loomed with a lot of time to soul search. And drive around town.
I felt all sorts of memories rushing back. I rode past many of my friends' houses, familiar roads and haunts, the high school, the house "the nice boy" and I had rented to live in after the wedding and found myself parked outside "the family restaurant".
It was lunch time and I saw a familiar face behind the grill. I sat in the car, unobserved, for a half hour or more. I was either going to open the door and get out or drive away.
I knew in my heart the time for looking back was over.
That night I went out with my best friend from high school. Geri had gotten married and had a brand new baby girl, who was my goddaughter. What an adorable little treasure. I envied Geri her newly settled status. Her husband seemed like a nice guy from a wealthy family. They were moving to Florida for him to finish a post graduate degree. But we had one night out together - we went to a familiar old haunt, the "Gold Coast" where she ran into the love of her life in high school. I thought I saw a couple of sparks but just knew she was the one who was going to live "happily ever after".
As for me, I returned to Los Angeles the next day.
Home again, naturally.
As the plane circled over Kennedy Airport I wondered exactly why I'd made this decision. Knowing full well my father wanted me home for good and the fear I'd felt over the past three days since the earthquake made returning a more than distinct possibility. I was pleased when the plane landed. A friend picked me up at the airport - I hadn't told anyone I was coming home. For the weekend, I kept repeating like a mantra. Only for the weekend.
When I walked into the house around 10PM my mother, of course, cried. My father was asleep in his La-Z-Boy lounger and awoke with a start. I was replaying hundreds of nights - my walking through the side door after a date and him awakening with a start. I almost tripped over the "remote" cord - remember the "first" remote t.v.'s with the box on the cord that stretched across the room? - but, I digress.
After an hour of so of conversation with my mom - her repeatedly asking if I was alright, my repeatedly saying "yes" and neither one of us believing it at all - I went up to bed. I had no idea what I was to do with the next two days and wondered if this was all a huge mistake. As I crawled into my bed, I was questioning just about everything in my life.
But, I slept very soundly. I felt safe.
When I walked into the house around 10PM my mother, of course, cried. My father was asleep in his La-Z-Boy lounger and awoke with a start. I was replaying hundreds of nights - my walking through the side door after a date and him awakening with a start. I almost tripped over the "remote" cord - remember the "first" remote t.v.'s with the box on the cord that stretched across the room? - but, I digress.
After an hour of so of conversation with my mom - her repeatedly asking if I was alright, my repeatedly saying "yes" and neither one of us believing it at all - I went up to bed. I had no idea what I was to do with the next two days and wondered if this was all a huge mistake. As I crawled into my bed, I was questioning just about everything in my life.
But, I slept very soundly. I felt safe.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
You Can Go Home Again
Running into Jake had me and my charm bracelets jangling. So, he really did live here. That afternoon, in between typing all important missives regarding a rough-cut of a what was deemed a hideously mis-representative Barbie commercial, I thought I'd been too rough on Jake. I could have at least said "hello".
Let's face it, my social life wasn't stellar. Los Angeles is a big place. No local hang outs and meeting people wasn't all that easy. Kate and I had gone to a few "clubs". I'd met Steve the Stuntman who turned out to be the primary jumper-off- buildings in the Western show on the Universal Studios tour. He was so important that we didn't even get a discount, let alone get in free. Two or three dates later it was definitely determined we were not a match. One of the guys at the agency handling the Mattel account had asked me out but I'd heard he was a real "player". No thanks.
By 4:30 that day I was ready to head back over the hill and call it a day. Right after I arrived home there was a ferocious aftershock. The thing about earthquakes is when the rattling starts you have no idea how intense it's going to get. And, even better, they come out of NOWHERE. This was a pretty good jolt.
I picked up the phone and was thrilled to hear a dial tone. I called American Airlines and made a reservation for Friday afternoon.
I was flying to New York.... but, just for the weekend.
Let's face it, my social life wasn't stellar. Los Angeles is a big place. No local hang outs and meeting people wasn't all that easy. Kate and I had gone to a few "clubs". I'd met Steve the Stuntman who turned out to be the primary jumper-off- buildings in the Western show on the Universal Studios tour. He was so important that we didn't even get a discount, let alone get in free. Two or three dates later it was definitely determined we were not a match. One of the guys at the agency handling the Mattel account had asked me out but I'd heard he was a real "player". No thanks.
By 4:30 that day I was ready to head back over the hill and call it a day. Right after I arrived home there was a ferocious aftershock. The thing about earthquakes is when the rattling starts you have no idea how intense it's going to get. And, even better, they come out of NOWHERE. This was a pretty good jolt.
I picked up the phone and was thrilled to hear a dial tone. I called American Airlines and made a reservation for Friday afternoon.
I was flying to New York.... but, just for the weekend.
Monday, March 1, 2010
El Coyote
Ok - so I drove into Hollywood, parked my car and decided NOT to ride up the six floors on the elevator. Much better to be in a collapsing stairwell than in an elevator should another aftershock occur. There was very little damage where I was but everybody was very quiet. The office phones weren't ringing.
Not usually one for wearing a lot of jewelry, my three jingling charm bracelets made an impression. It was a small office, only three people. The man in charge was an interesting but somewhat sour soul. He was writing his autobiography, entitled "Trapped on a Treadmill".
The Television Code mostly put their "seal" on television commercials out here in Hollywood. Mattel speed racers could only be shown in commercials going as fast as they actually went. No "puffery"...swear to God. There was an office for this kind of stuff and I worked in it.
His name was Frank. He stood out by my desk and said, "what are those bracelets?". I replied "my charm bracelets", and proceeded to type some important memo about a robot whose head really couldn't turn 360 degrees but sounded like it would be in the script he had not yet approved. Again....really!
It was lunch time and he came out and said we were going to El Coyote. Here's the thing. I had never in my life had Mexican food. Just hadn't run across it, even during my tenure on Occidental Boulevard. He said "you'll love it, El Coyote is a legend in this town".
And so it was...but on this "day of the earthquake" it was a quiet legend. Seriously, I had never heard such silence. Everybody spoke in hushed tones and waited for the next aftershock. A pessimist by nature - perhaps you picked that up by his proposed book title - Frank was positive this had merely been the precursor of "The Big One" which was on its' way...soon. Thanks, Frank. Sure am loving this cheese enchilada stuck in my throat. Every time I lifted my arm the bracelets jangled and finally he asked, "what's with the bracelets?". Again, if you're under 50 you will probably not remember that charm bracelets were bracelets with little dangling tokens - charms - commemorating various life events. I'd gotten my first when I was six and every occasion brought a new charm. A new bracelet at 16 and 21. So I had quite a few. The ballerina, the report card with the "?" for conduct among them.
I told him I had no idea what he meant and he replied, "what are you trying to ward off with the charms?". Huh? He had obviously given this a lot of thought and determined the charms were there to ward off evil spirits. We laughed at his misunderstanding and started to leave. My eyes met those of someone standing by the front door waiting for a table.
It was Jake. He started to say something and I looked away. No thanks, pal. Been there...didn't do that.
Maybe there was something to ward off, after all.
Not usually one for wearing a lot of jewelry, my three jingling charm bracelets made an impression. It was a small office, only three people. The man in charge was an interesting but somewhat sour soul. He was writing his autobiography, entitled "Trapped on a Treadmill".
The Television Code mostly put their "seal" on television commercials out here in Hollywood. Mattel speed racers could only be shown in commercials going as fast as they actually went. No "puffery"...swear to God. There was an office for this kind of stuff and I worked in it.
His name was Frank. He stood out by my desk and said, "what are those bracelets?". I replied "my charm bracelets", and proceeded to type some important memo about a robot whose head really couldn't turn 360 degrees but sounded like it would be in the script he had not yet approved. Again....really!
It was lunch time and he came out and said we were going to El Coyote. Here's the thing. I had never in my life had Mexican food. Just hadn't run across it, even during my tenure on Occidental Boulevard. He said "you'll love it, El Coyote is a legend in this town".
And so it was...but on this "day of the earthquake" it was a quiet legend. Seriously, I had never heard such silence. Everybody spoke in hushed tones and waited for the next aftershock. A pessimist by nature - perhaps you picked that up by his proposed book title - Frank was positive this had merely been the precursor of "The Big One" which was on its' way...soon. Thanks, Frank. Sure am loving this cheese enchilada stuck in my throat. Every time I lifted my arm the bracelets jangled and finally he asked, "what's with the bracelets?". Again, if you're under 50 you will probably not remember that charm bracelets were bracelets with little dangling tokens - charms - commemorating various life events. I'd gotten my first when I was six and every occasion brought a new charm. A new bracelet at 16 and 21. So I had quite a few. The ballerina, the report card with the "?" for conduct among them.
I told him I had no idea what he meant and he replied, "what are you trying to ward off with the charms?". Huh? He had obviously given this a lot of thought and determined the charms were there to ward off evil spirits. We laughed at his misunderstanding and started to leave. My eyes met those of someone standing by the front door waiting for a table.
It was Jake. He started to say something and I looked away. No thanks, pal. Been there...didn't do that.
Maybe there was something to ward off, after all.
The Day the Earth Moved
I'd unpacked my worldly belongings - two trips in the Triumph Spitfire - my Galiano bottle filled with pennies and 17" black and white television among them, and was settling in at 4221 Kling Street. Most of the people in the building were young. In fact, the apartment across the court from me was filled with "Gold Diggers". I am not referring to women looking for rich husbands but, rather, dancers on the Dean Martin Show taped at NBC. Really, Dean Martin....
My apartment was on the second floor and I immediately set out to make the impersonal furnishings my own. I couldn't paint but ran right out and bought cork board squares and double taped them in a ridiculous collage on a wall. The bathroom suddenly had bright purple daisy decals on the walls and I thought I was incredibly cool.
I'd probably been there about four days and had fallen asleep pretty early. All that mindful decorating had taken its' toll.
At 6:00AM on Tuesday, February 9, 1971 I felt an intense shaking. Before I was awake I thought "somebody must be taking a car out of the garage". My bedroom in Locust Valley was over the garage and that's where I thought I was initially. But then I realized I certainly wasn't. As I sat up in the bed I watched my prized television slide off the small table, hit the bed, and then the floor. I jumped up, ran through the apartment and opened the front door. The building was moving from side to side as the water from the pool sloshed over the side in a mini tidal wave. And then....it stopped....
I went back into the apartment to survey the damage. The cork boards were still on the wall and not one dish broke. Probably because they were all in the sink. I was still traveling light in life.
About five minutes went by - I had no idea what to do or where to go. Where there earthquake days? Should I go to work?
Then the phone rang...it was my mother. She said she had a feeling something was "wrong". I'll say....she turned on the television and discovered the details...a 6.6 earthquake had hit Sylmar - about fifteen miles up the 405 freeway. Just hearing her voice calmed my jumping heart. We talked for a few minutes and then the phone went dead. I tried to call her back and, amazingly, got through. I hadn't spoken to my father since they left after Christmas which was par for that course and, actually, fine with me. But my mother, once again, said magical words, "if you want to come home for a few days we'll pay for the ticket". I told her I was just fine as the first of hundreds of aftershocks hit. I hung up the phone and shakily went outside just in time to hear one of the Gold Diggers say "my mother says it will all be just fine". I asked where her mother was and she responded, "Kansas"....ok, then.
I can't say I remember the next couple of hours but I got dressed and decided to go to work - on the 6th floor of an office building in Hollywood. I wasn't sure what to take with me when I left.
Charm bracelets....most definitely.
My apartment was on the second floor and I immediately set out to make the impersonal furnishings my own. I couldn't paint but ran right out and bought cork board squares and double taped them in a ridiculous collage on a wall. The bathroom suddenly had bright purple daisy decals on the walls and I thought I was incredibly cool.
I'd probably been there about four days and had fallen asleep pretty early. All that mindful decorating had taken its' toll.
At 6:00AM on Tuesday, February 9, 1971 I felt an intense shaking. Before I was awake I thought "somebody must be taking a car out of the garage". My bedroom in Locust Valley was over the garage and that's where I thought I was initially. But then I realized I certainly wasn't. As I sat up in the bed I watched my prized television slide off the small table, hit the bed, and then the floor. I jumped up, ran through the apartment and opened the front door. The building was moving from side to side as the water from the pool sloshed over the side in a mini tidal wave. And then....it stopped....
I went back into the apartment to survey the damage. The cork boards were still on the wall and not one dish broke. Probably because they were all in the sink. I was still traveling light in life.
About five minutes went by - I had no idea what to do or where to go. Where there earthquake days? Should I go to work?
Then the phone rang...it was my mother. She said she had a feeling something was "wrong". I'll say....she turned on the television and discovered the details...a 6.6 earthquake had hit Sylmar - about fifteen miles up the 405 freeway. Just hearing her voice calmed my jumping heart. We talked for a few minutes and then the phone went dead. I tried to call her back and, amazingly, got through. I hadn't spoken to my father since they left after Christmas which was par for that course and, actually, fine with me. But my mother, once again, said magical words, "if you want to come home for a few days we'll pay for the ticket". I told her I was just fine as the first of hundreds of aftershocks hit. I hung up the phone and shakily went outside just in time to hear one of the Gold Diggers say "my mother says it will all be just fine". I asked where her mother was and she responded, "Kansas"....ok, then.
I can't say I remember the next couple of hours but I got dressed and decided to go to work - on the 6th floor of an office building in Hollywood. I wasn't sure what to take with me when I left.
Charm bracelets....most definitely.
Beautiful Downtown Burbank
Though loathe to admit it at the time and in some ways unaware, the neighborhood we lived in was NOT the best. While "happy hour" with unlimited free appetizers on Friday night at the Captain's Table was an attraction, circumstances were changing and it was time to look for a new place.
My roommate from back home had decided to go back and get married. The original appeal of the apartment was waning and Kate definitely wasn't a match as a roomie. She gave new meaning to the word "territorial" in the frig with her labels and "you didn't take THAT, did you?".
I'd think back to that night in Las Vegas and wonder if Jake really even lived here. I was glad that he'd mentioned Toluca Lake as I really did like it in that part of the "Valley". A slower pace, less traffic, and as I'd learn in the years ahead, similar in many attitudinal ways to where I'd grown up.
I was working as a secretary - so Big Joe was right about that summer spent at Katherine Gibbs learning to type - at the now-non-existent NAB Television Code a few buildings away from Grauman's Chinese Theater. My first star sighting had been on Hollywood Boulevard right after the holidays. Walking to pick up an egg salad sandwich I looked up and saw Broderick Crawford heading toward me. Now, anybody under 50 won't have a clue who he is but he was the star of one of the first television detective dramas "Highway Patrol", a big, bulky, brusque kind of guy, and his famous moniker was "10-4...over and out". I have no idea what possessed me but as I walked past him I said "10-4"....he looked over and smiled. Ok, now this was Hollywood. I'd arrived.
Just up the 101 Freeway and over Barham Boulevard was Burbank and Toluca Lake. Even though Johnny Carson joked about it, it was a sweet little city. Housing a major television studio, NBC, restaurants and Bob Hope I thought I could be very happy here and went in search of an apartment of my very own.
The Lakeside Apartments were adorable. Probably twenty buildings, almost identical, housing one and two bedroom apartments. Two story "courtyard" style with swimming pools in the middle. I quickly signed up for a furnished one bedroom at a cost of $175 a month. For me ALONE. Well, it just meant more Kraft Mystery Dinners for dinner, which was actually fine with me. To this day I am a patron of the day-glow orange powder.
I moved in early February....lock, stock and charm bracelets.
My roommate from back home had decided to go back and get married. The original appeal of the apartment was waning and Kate definitely wasn't a match as a roomie. She gave new meaning to the word "territorial" in the frig with her labels and "you didn't take THAT, did you?".
I'd think back to that night in Las Vegas and wonder if Jake really even lived here. I was glad that he'd mentioned Toluca Lake as I really did like it in that part of the "Valley". A slower pace, less traffic, and as I'd learn in the years ahead, similar in many attitudinal ways to where I'd grown up.
I was working as a secretary - so Big Joe was right about that summer spent at Katherine Gibbs learning to type - at the now-non-existent NAB Television Code a few buildings away from Grauman's Chinese Theater. My first star sighting had been on Hollywood Boulevard right after the holidays. Walking to pick up an egg salad sandwich I looked up and saw Broderick Crawford heading toward me. Now, anybody under 50 won't have a clue who he is but he was the star of one of the first television detective dramas "Highway Patrol", a big, bulky, brusque kind of guy, and his famous moniker was "10-4...over and out". I have no idea what possessed me but as I walked past him I said "10-4"....he looked over and smiled. Ok, now this was Hollywood. I'd arrived.
Just up the 101 Freeway and over Barham Boulevard was Burbank and Toluca Lake. Even though Johnny Carson joked about it, it was a sweet little city. Housing a major television studio, NBC, restaurants and Bob Hope I thought I could be very happy here and went in search of an apartment of my very own.
The Lakeside Apartments were adorable. Probably twenty buildings, almost identical, housing one and two bedroom apartments. Two story "courtyard" style with swimming pools in the middle. I quickly signed up for a furnished one bedroom at a cost of $175 a month. For me ALONE. Well, it just meant more Kraft Mystery Dinners for dinner, which was actually fine with me. To this day I am a patron of the day-glow orange powder.
I moved in early February....lock, stock and charm bracelets.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Father Knows Best...just ask him
OK, here's the deal. My father was the boss of everything, and apparently my first full sentence was "you're not the boss of me". It was the on-going struggle I fought to win and thought I had by moving three thousand miles away. But the indiscriminately allotted three months was up and there was no way in hell I was going back. I had an ok job, that cool shag carpeting in my apartment and I was free at last, free at last.
Big Joe - as he was not always so fondly referred to - decided enough was enough and the ethnic composite of my apartment building was his excuse. I just wasn't safe in Los Angeles. As my mother and brother sat silently in the restaurant, Big Joe and I replayed the dinner scene of my youth. He and I were talking loudly in disagreement and she and my brother were nervously coughing, twitching and throat clearing.
Somewhere between the soup and salad at Sorrentino's in Burbank - I'd found my way to the "Valley" - my mother said sternly, "enough". We both looked at her in amazement. This was not part of the normal agenda. Her next words rang clear and true, "she's staying here, Joe....she's staying here".
She usually let me fight my own battles and had only intervened once before.
About ten weeks before I was supposed to be married she came into my room and said "I don't know what's going on with you, but you're not acting like somebody who's getting married". Then, "if you don't want to do it, you can call it off, but you have to do it now - there's a shower for you in two weeks".
She closed with the magic words,"I'll fix it with your father". I think they ate off the reception deposit at the Swan Club for a very long time.
And now for a second time she really proved that "mother knows best" as she saved me from a fate far worse than marriage would have been.
They flew back to New York two days early. She cried at the airport when she said goodbye - she was quite the crier - and I thanked her.
She smiled and said "move to Burbank".
Big Joe - as he was not always so fondly referred to - decided enough was enough and the ethnic composite of my apartment building was his excuse. I just wasn't safe in Los Angeles. As my mother and brother sat silently in the restaurant, Big Joe and I replayed the dinner scene of my youth. He and I were talking loudly in disagreement and she and my brother were nervously coughing, twitching and throat clearing.
Somewhere between the soup and salad at Sorrentino's in Burbank - I'd found my way to the "Valley" - my mother said sternly, "enough". We both looked at her in amazement. This was not part of the normal agenda. Her next words rang clear and true, "she's staying here, Joe....she's staying here".
She usually let me fight my own battles and had only intervened once before.
About ten weeks before I was supposed to be married she came into my room and said "I don't know what's going on with you, but you're not acting like somebody who's getting married". Then, "if you don't want to do it, you can call it off, but you have to do it now - there's a shower for you in two weeks".
She closed with the magic words,"I'll fix it with your father". I think they ate off the reception deposit at the Swan Club for a very long time.
And now for a second time she really proved that "mother knows best" as she saved me from a fate far worse than marriage would have been.
They flew back to New York two days early. She cried at the airport when she said goodbye - she was quite the crier - and I thanked her.
She smiled and said "move to Burbank".
Slauson Cut-off....
Remember the "real" Tonight Show with Johnny Carson? He did a skit where he was Art Fern showing a massive tangle of L.A. freeways and it always ended with cutting off your Slauson. Our first journey on the mass of tangles they call "commuting in LA" was not for the weak of heart. Especially since we had absolutely no idea where we were going. Kate had called human resources and gotten the address - remember, no computers, no internet..just people who, thankfully, answered the phone. They were located in the "mid-Wilshire District". Now all we had to do was find Wilshire. We'd figure out the mid-part later.
What we did find were several freeways and each had a Wilshire exit,or offramp as they are called. Since every freeway seemed to merge from the right at warp speed, it was impossible to exit unless you spotted the signs far in advance. I don't remember which freeway finally deposited us onto Wilshire Boulevard, but I do remember we were deep in the heart of downtown Los Angeles. That was almost as scary as Downey.
There are no homeless people in Locust Valley. Very little dirt, except in gardens and no traffic. This was truly life in the fast lane. I had a vague idea of how Alice must have interpreted falling through the looking glass.
We found the office building and decided mid-Wilshire looked wonderful. We began driving around and it seemed a more than acceptable place to live. Luckily, most of the apartments had live-in managers so we would stop at one and ring the buzzer. How safe and secure a building with a buzzer seemed. And, wait - there were palm trees lining Occidental Boulevard.
Oh my gosh...the apartment - #101 - was just like a Doris Day movie. Built in furniture and shag carpeting. Completely furnished one bedroom for $175 a month including utilities. Between three of us that would be more than manageable. It would be downright thrifty.
When my parents' arrived for a visit at Christmas, my father's immediate exclamation ruined my fantasy first apartment...."Jesus Christ - you're the only name on the mailbox that isn't Mexican".
I guess we'd noticed but I'm happy to say it hadn't mattered until then.
I was being ordered back home.
What we did find were several freeways and each had a Wilshire exit,or offramp as they are called. Since every freeway seemed to merge from the right at warp speed, it was impossible to exit unless you spotted the signs far in advance. I don't remember which freeway finally deposited us onto Wilshire Boulevard, but I do remember we were deep in the heart of downtown Los Angeles. That was almost as scary as Downey.
There are no homeless people in Locust Valley. Very little dirt, except in gardens and no traffic. This was truly life in the fast lane. I had a vague idea of how Alice must have interpreted falling through the looking glass.
We found the office building and decided mid-Wilshire looked wonderful. We began driving around and it seemed a more than acceptable place to live. Luckily, most of the apartments had live-in managers so we would stop at one and ring the buzzer. How safe and secure a building with a buzzer seemed. And, wait - there were palm trees lining Occidental Boulevard.
Oh my gosh...the apartment - #101 - was just like a Doris Day movie. Built in furniture and shag carpeting. Completely furnished one bedroom for $175 a month including utilities. Between three of us that would be more than manageable. It would be downright thrifty.
When my parents' arrived for a visit at Christmas, my father's immediate exclamation ruined my fantasy first apartment...."Jesus Christ - you're the only name on the mailbox that isn't Mexican".
I guess we'd noticed but I'm happy to say it hadn't mattered until then.
I was being ordered back home.
Leaving Las Vegas...
Sunrise came very quickly that Sunday morning and it was time to get on the road. Kate and I had decided one night in Vegas was enough and were anxious to arrive at our final destination. Downey, California - a suburb of Los Angeles. There was a reason for this particular choice. While I would have moved to Guam, Los Angeles became possible because two friends were out here visiting a relative. Though totally unknown to me, it was "family" to someone my family knew which made it possible for my parents to consider. More about that later.
Obviously,cell phones hadn't been invented and we stopped at a pay phone to let our friends know we were on our way. They had booked us into a reasonable motel for a week while we would get our bearings and figure out next steps. One had just accepted a job in downtown L.A. - wherever that might be - the other was leaving in a couple of weeks and Kate was going to work at the Los Angeles office of a large insurance company she had worked for on Long Island. We had a week to find an apartment...somewhere near Wilshire Boulevard.
It should be noted that Wilshire Boulevard is a major artery - one of the few streets that runs completely through the city of Los Angeles from the ocean to downtown. There are at least fifty completely different worlds located along that 14.4 mile corridor. We didn't yet know that fact or have any idea which world would be closest to Kate's job.
The drive from Vegas to Los Angeles took around four hours and another phone call as we approached ascertained our meeting at the motel in destination Downey. As the freeway signs announced our arrival to the area I felt a knot beginning to tighten in my stomach. Where were the palm trees and mansions? Movies stars and talent agents couldn't possibly live here. Where was Beverly Hills adjacent?
What part of town was this?
The part with the Giant Donut located right off one of the many freeways.
We won't discuss the reasonable motel...all I could say about Downey was "we gotta get outta here...fast".
The search for Wilshire Boulevard began early Monday morning.
During rush hour.
Obviously,cell phones hadn't been invented and we stopped at a pay phone to let our friends know we were on our way. They had booked us into a reasonable motel for a week while we would get our bearings and figure out next steps. One had just accepted a job in downtown L.A. - wherever that might be - the other was leaving in a couple of weeks and Kate was going to work at the Los Angeles office of a large insurance company she had worked for on Long Island. We had a week to find an apartment...somewhere near Wilshire Boulevard.
It should be noted that Wilshire Boulevard is a major artery - one of the few streets that runs completely through the city of Los Angeles from the ocean to downtown. There are at least fifty completely different worlds located along that 14.4 mile corridor. We didn't yet know that fact or have any idea which world would be closest to Kate's job.
The drive from Vegas to Los Angeles took around four hours and another phone call as we approached ascertained our meeting at the motel in destination Downey. As the freeway signs announced our arrival to the area I felt a knot beginning to tighten in my stomach. Where were the palm trees and mansions? Movies stars and talent agents couldn't possibly live here. Where was Beverly Hills adjacent?
What part of town was this?
The part with the Giant Donut located right off one of the many freeways.
We won't discuss the reasonable motel...all I could say about Downey was "we gotta get outta here...fast".
The search for Wilshire Boulevard began early Monday morning.
During rush hour.
Having it all...
Please remember, I am part of that "transitional" generation of women. Told we could "have it all" but raised by women who had migraines, asthma and ulcers because real life told them they couldn't. Without an independent role model, I followed a path of predictability. Getting engaged at 19 was far from unusual. In fact, at 19 I was already a "godmother" and had been "maid of honor" at a totally "non-shot-gun" wedding.
When I went shopping for a wedding dress I'd been told by a friend who was already married, "when you put on THE dress you'll feel the magic". I tried on one dress and said "you're right, this is it". But I didn't feel any magic. I just knew it looked better than the others.
I lied because I didn't want to be "different".
And what is having it all anyway?
When I went shopping for a wedding dress I'd been told by a friend who was already married, "when you put on THE dress you'll feel the magic". I tried on one dress and said "you're right, this is it". But I didn't feel any magic. I just knew it looked better than the others.
I lied because I didn't want to be "different".
And what is having it all anyway?
A Mayonaisse Princess in Sin City...
A decade after my evening in Las Vegas, a husband returned with me to Locust Valley. Observing my life there he said, "now I have the final piece of the puzzle" and promptly dubbed me "the mayonnaise princess". While I had been known to put mayonnaise on cheeseburgers, the nickname had nothing to do with my choice of condiment. I had recognized a cultural divide between my past and present a couple of years earlier on a visit home when I asked the very young man behind the counter of the delicatessen for "lox" and was told "none here, go to Briton's" - the hardware store. I realized I'd had lots of Wonder Bread but never a bagel until I moved to L.A.
Yet on that Saturday night in Las Vegas I had no idea how incredibly sheltered my upbringing had been and even less of an idea of what Las Vegas was about. What I did know - I was on my own in a place lit up like a Christmas tree at a time when Christmas trees were still politically correct. The thrill of sitting with that watered down drink at a slot machine wearing high heels was indescribable. At that moment I was certain my life in Los Angeles was going to be everything I had never dreamed of and the possibilities were endless.
But first there was tonight.
My friend, Kate, and I wandered into the lounge. In Vegas during "the day" there were lounge shows of medium talent and those headlining Rat Pack type show rooms with untenable cover charges. The "Treniers" were appearing at the Sands lounge that evening. As a Motown devotee I found this absolutely perfect. No Four Tops or Temptations, but just what the night called for. The cover was two drinks which were definitely not watered down. Kate and I enjoyed the show as four men at the table next to us were checking out their possibilities. I was too enthralled with the first true rush of freedom and loud music where no one said "turn that down, Janet" that I didn't pay attention - at first.
After the first drink I smiled back...after the second we agreed to join them at their table. It turned out they were "friends" of the Treniers. Men in their mid- thirties in town for the weekend from they didn't mention where. They were definitely the most sophisticated guys I'd ever seen, but then where would I have been hanging out with men in their thirties? After the show we all went out to the "tables" - no slots for them. They were playing roulette and planned to move on to another Casino. Did we want to join them? We had our own car and felt perfectly safe saying, "sure, we'll follow". And we did.
Two or three casinos later it was about three a.m. I wasn't imbibing but I was certainly high on the experience. One of the men was particularly attractive, and attracted, and asked if I wanted to head to Caesar's Palace with him. He would, of course, drive me back to our motel whenever I wanted - no doubt about that. Kate drove away, as did Jake and I. Caesars was beyond unbelievable. As we walked over to the roulette table I boldly put $2 down on my lucky number - 8. The wheel spun and I won! $72 return. Today that would barely fill a gas tank but 1970 gasoline was 28 cents a gallon. I saw this stroke of luck as a positive omen for my future.
As for the present, most certainly I was having fun. Would you believe Jake lived in Los Angeles? He was a talent agent in Beverly Hills with a house in the Hollywood Hills and would love to take me to dinner once I got settled. He recommended some great areas to look for an apartment - Toluca Lake in the "Valley" and Beverly Hills adjacent if I wound up "over the hill". At 21 I found that doubtful until he explained the geographic boundaries of the city I was going to be calling home in forty-eight hours.
But right now, flush with my winnings and a potential "Mr. Right" - oh, those life plans die hard - standing with me in this glamorous atmosphere I was certain I'd made the right choice to "go West young woman".
It must have been 5AM when I was ready to get some sleep and asked Jake to drive me back to the motel. While I was a bit embarrassed for him to see where we were staying, I knew wherever I wound up would make a better impression when we met up again in Los Angeles.
Jake just happened to be staying at Caesars. How about we catch some sleep in his room before he drove me back? After some back and forth conversation it became clear his driving me anywhere was not an option. Mr. Right was really wrong.
We parted relatively amicably but as I walked out of the Casino I realized two things...it was a very long walk back to the motel and I didn't even know this talent agents' last name.
Using a large part of my winnings on a taxi - that motel was REALLY at the end of the strip - I had time to reflect on my first big night of freedom.
I wasn't nearly as smart as I thought I was a couple of hours earlier.
Wouldn't you think I'd remember that?
Yet on that Saturday night in Las Vegas I had no idea how incredibly sheltered my upbringing had been and even less of an idea of what Las Vegas was about. What I did know - I was on my own in a place lit up like a Christmas tree at a time when Christmas trees were still politically correct. The thrill of sitting with that watered down drink at a slot machine wearing high heels was indescribable. At that moment I was certain my life in Los Angeles was going to be everything I had never dreamed of and the possibilities were endless.
But first there was tonight.
My friend, Kate, and I wandered into the lounge. In Vegas during "the day" there were lounge shows of medium talent and those headlining Rat Pack type show rooms with untenable cover charges. The "Treniers" were appearing at the Sands lounge that evening. As a Motown devotee I found this absolutely perfect. No Four Tops or Temptations, but just what the night called for. The cover was two drinks which were definitely not watered down. Kate and I enjoyed the show as four men at the table next to us were checking out their possibilities. I was too enthralled with the first true rush of freedom and loud music where no one said "turn that down, Janet" that I didn't pay attention - at first.
After the first drink I smiled back...after the second we agreed to join them at their table. It turned out they were "friends" of the Treniers. Men in their mid- thirties in town for the weekend from they didn't mention where. They were definitely the most sophisticated guys I'd ever seen, but then where would I have been hanging out with men in their thirties? After the show we all went out to the "tables" - no slots for them. They were playing roulette and planned to move on to another Casino. Did we want to join them? We had our own car and felt perfectly safe saying, "sure, we'll follow". And we did.
Two or three casinos later it was about three a.m. I wasn't imbibing but I was certainly high on the experience. One of the men was particularly attractive, and attracted, and asked if I wanted to head to Caesar's Palace with him. He would, of course, drive me back to our motel whenever I wanted - no doubt about that. Kate drove away, as did Jake and I. Caesars was beyond unbelievable. As we walked over to the roulette table I boldly put $2 down on my lucky number - 8. The wheel spun and I won! $72 return. Today that would barely fill a gas tank but 1970 gasoline was 28 cents a gallon. I saw this stroke of luck as a positive omen for my future.
As for the present, most certainly I was having fun. Would you believe Jake lived in Los Angeles? He was a talent agent in Beverly Hills with a house in the Hollywood Hills and would love to take me to dinner once I got settled. He recommended some great areas to look for an apartment - Toluca Lake in the "Valley" and Beverly Hills adjacent if I wound up "over the hill". At 21 I found that doubtful until he explained the geographic boundaries of the city I was going to be calling home in forty-eight hours.
But right now, flush with my winnings and a potential "Mr. Right" - oh, those life plans die hard - standing with me in this glamorous atmosphere I was certain I'd made the right choice to "go West young woman".
It must have been 5AM when I was ready to get some sleep and asked Jake to drive me back to the motel. While I was a bit embarrassed for him to see where we were staying, I knew wherever I wound up would make a better impression when we met up again in Los Angeles.
Jake just happened to be staying at Caesars. How about we catch some sleep in his room before he drove me back? After some back and forth conversation it became clear his driving me anywhere was not an option. Mr. Right was really wrong.
We parted relatively amicably but as I walked out of the Casino I realized two things...it was a very long walk back to the motel and I didn't even know this talent agents' last name.
Using a large part of my winnings on a taxi - that motel was REALLY at the end of the strip - I had time to reflect on my first big night of freedom.
I wasn't nearly as smart as I thought I was a couple of hours earlier.
Wouldn't you think I'd remember that?
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Here and Now...
When Geri first suggested we blog about our lives - both fact and fiction - I couldn't wait to begin. We're going to turn our stories into a New York Times bestseller for the old ladies to read on cruises...that's Geri's line. The goal is to make it happen before we're old ladies.
We're kids of the late 60's being 60. It's an interesting place to be in life. Unbelievable, because I know I still act surprisingly immature at times and wear jeans. That wonderful mother of mine always wore skirts and sweater sets.
Re-uniting with Geri on Facebook and others from that time in my life - including the nice boy I didn't marry - have made me remember things vividly. Some things best left forgotten, I'd imagine, but only time and continued blogging will tell.
Geri and I seem to be going full circle together. The adventures we had together as teenagers are as vivid as the goofy conversations we have on-line today. Our distant past is entwined and I believe we still have a good part of the circle to complete.
But there's forty years in between...two thirds of our lives where we spoke only intermittently, yet always seemed to know most of what was happening to the other. My life certainly didn't go the way I'd imagined and I know hers didn't either.
We've both had a lot of drama, tragedy and happiness. I know I have to say it in that order, for me. I won't ever speak for her. But, I'm glad we're both here today.
I think we have a story to tell. It's as simple as two pre-teens sitting with a reel-to-reel tape recorder singing "I Love How You Love Me" over and over. It's as complicated as five marriages between us...yeah, I'm the one with three.
The names will be changed to protect the guilty and the stories will contain truth, fantasy and/or a combination thereof. Only those who know me and themselves very well will know which is which.
But here's something that's very true.
I really hope Geri comes to California some day.
We're kids of the late 60's being 60. It's an interesting place to be in life. Unbelievable, because I know I still act surprisingly immature at times and wear jeans. That wonderful mother of mine always wore skirts and sweater sets.
Re-uniting with Geri on Facebook and others from that time in my life - including the nice boy I didn't marry - have made me remember things vividly. Some things best left forgotten, I'd imagine, but only time and continued blogging will tell.
Geri and I seem to be going full circle together. The adventures we had together as teenagers are as vivid as the goofy conversations we have on-line today. Our distant past is entwined and I believe we still have a good part of the circle to complete.
But there's forty years in between...two thirds of our lives where we spoke only intermittently, yet always seemed to know most of what was happening to the other. My life certainly didn't go the way I'd imagined and I know hers didn't either.
We've both had a lot of drama, tragedy and happiness. I know I have to say it in that order, for me. I won't ever speak for her. But, I'm glad we're both here today.
I think we have a story to tell. It's as simple as two pre-teens sitting with a reel-to-reel tape recorder singing "I Love How You Love Me" over and over. It's as complicated as five marriages between us...yeah, I'm the one with three.
The names will be changed to protect the guilty and the stories will contain truth, fantasy and/or a combination thereof. Only those who know me and themselves very well will know which is which.
But here's something that's very true.
I really hope Geri comes to California some day.
A Very Different L.V.
A brief summary of Locust Valley....green, gorgeous, affluent and affable. Spending most of my youth there totally unprepared me for the "real" world, let alone Las Vegas.
As we pulled onto the strip I was like a kid in a candy store. Where to stop first? A cheapo motel at the end of town. That envelope of cash was not overwhelming and large expenses lie ahead...an apartment -oh, bliss - and paying my own way for the first time in my life. After checking in and checking out the rather dismal accommodations we drove past landmarks I'd only seen on television. The Tropicana, Frontier Hotel and the Little Chapel of the West that, unfortunately, I'd know more intimately a few years down the line.
But, I digress.
The only thing that could have made that night MORE perfect would have been the Rat Pack appearing at the Sands. We were barely "legal" and able to walk into the Casino at the Sands. Wow, free watered down drinks, oxygen pumped in to keep you awake long into the night or day and not know which, people dressed to the nines and the clanging of slot machine bells.
My "life plan" seemed a lifetime ago as I bought twenty dollars worth of nickles and headed for my first adventure.
Mature beyond words was how I felt.
The night was young and truth be told I was, of course, even younger.
As we pulled onto the strip I was like a kid in a candy store. Where to stop first? A cheapo motel at the end of town. That envelope of cash was not overwhelming and large expenses lie ahead...an apartment -oh, bliss - and paying my own way for the first time in my life. After checking in and checking out the rather dismal accommodations we drove past landmarks I'd only seen on television. The Tropicana, Frontier Hotel and the Little Chapel of the West that, unfortunately, I'd know more intimately a few years down the line.
But, I digress.
The only thing that could have made that night MORE perfect would have been the Rat Pack appearing at the Sands. We were barely "legal" and able to walk into the Casino at the Sands. Wow, free watered down drinks, oxygen pumped in to keep you awake long into the night or day and not know which, people dressed to the nines and the clanging of slot machine bells.
My "life plan" seemed a lifetime ago as I bought twenty dollars worth of nickles and headed for my first adventure.
Mature beyond words was how I felt.
The night was young and truth be told I was, of course, even younger.
On the Road...
Somewhere around St. Louis I realized my most marketable skills were making milkshakes and asking "would you like your burger medium or rare?". A frightening few moments, indeed. But Route 66 was fairly distracting despite miles upon miles of corn fields. On Day Four we hit the all important fork in the road. A very important decision had to be made... The Grand Canyon or Las Vegas.
While driving toward the "left coast" seemed an aimless endeavor, the current choice was clear. Sprung from the cage of conventional behavior, I was on my way to Las Vegas.
Los Angeles could wait a couple of days. I was 21 and everything would be just fine.
While driving toward the "left coast" seemed an aimless endeavor, the current choice was clear. Sprung from the cage of conventional behavior, I was on my way to Las Vegas.
Los Angeles could wait a couple of days. I was 21 and everything would be just fine.
Leaving Locust Valley....
A few days before I turned 19 I knew exactly how my life would be. Get engaged, married, have 2.2 children, swim at the country club and run the family restaurant. Well, I did get engaged on my 19th birthday to a very nice boy with a very nice diamond ring from Fortunoffs. We planned a very nice wedding, a honeymoon in Puerto Rico and ordered a copious number of invitations that were never mailed. Exactly what was I supposed to do now with the rest of my life?
Only one suitable decision - leave town and move to Los Angeles. "She'll be back in three months" seemed to be the general consensus among family and friends. I'm not certain I didn't disagree with them as I sat in a car with a friend awaiting our departure. It was all contingent on my father's final "OK" - in the form of an envelope of cash (entrusted to the friend, but more about my relationship with my father at some other time) and the guarantee that my little Triumph Spitfire would, indeed, be shipped.
As my mother - one of the kindest souls and neatest women I've ever known - stood next to the car with tears in her eyes she entrusted a large envelope of her own to me. Inside were all the response envelopes from the not-to-be-had wedding, addressed to the family home and stamped.
Her simple goodbye - "you have no excuse not to write".
Only one suitable decision - leave town and move to Los Angeles. "She'll be back in three months" seemed to be the general consensus among family and friends. I'm not certain I didn't disagree with them as I sat in a car with a friend awaiting our departure. It was all contingent on my father's final "OK" - in the form of an envelope of cash (entrusted to the friend, but more about my relationship with my father at some other time) and the guarantee that my little Triumph Spitfire would, indeed, be shipped.
As my mother - one of the kindest souls and neatest women I've ever known - stood next to the car with tears in her eyes she entrusted a large envelope of her own to me. Inside were all the response envelopes from the not-to-be-had wedding, addressed to the family home and stamped.
Her simple goodbye - "you have no excuse not to write".
I Created a Blog
Well, my best friend from high school and I reconnected on Facebook....we've been farming...cooking....fishing...and yo-villing... all with the obsessive tendencies that remind me of our high school days. Boys, slam books, boys, laughing during assemblies, boys....and then leaving high school, Locust Valley, and each other for many, many years.
She suggested blogging as an alternative outlet and told me how to set one up.
So...here we go....
She suggested blogging as an alternative outlet and told me how to set one up.
So...here we go....
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