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.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
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.
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