spot” in the desert in those days. If anyone wanted to see stars, they went to Ruby’s. Your booth was in the corner and rarely occupied by anyone except you and your guest. I rarely saw you with a date. On Thursday night large fresh lobsters were flown in from New England and were they good! They were consistently huge and the best! Consistent good meals are never forgotten.
Speaking of lasting memories at Ruby Dunes, one evening a friend and I went there on a rainy evening. After having drinks at the bar, we decided it leave. As we stood under that small half round awning awaiting our car, Lucille Ball’s husband, Gary, came barreling out the door, pushing us out into the rain stating, “Step aside, Miss Ball is coming through!” “What the hell right does MISS BALL have to have us pushed out in the rain!” I said.
I felt a bit weird with Ruby trying to “fix” me up with you. After all, you had your choice of the most beautiful and the richest women in the world! Still, that never kept our eyes from fixing on each other each time you came into Jilly’s as well as at Ruby’s. I certainly was not going to make any forward advances toward THE Frank Sinatra and you seemed a bit shy toward saying anything very personal to me.
I remember Barbara Marks often sitting at the bar in Ruby’s. I assume she had her “eye” on you at the time but you didn’t seem interested or pursue her at all. I knew of her from my friend, John Guedel, who produced Grocho Marks’ show, John pointed her out and told of her marriage to one of the Marks brothers. John had also opened his house to some of my friend and me when we wanted to go to Palm Springs for the weekend. If my memory is correct, it was in the same complex with your house as well as some of the Marks brothers.
At Jilly’s I was making just enough to barely get by. Christmas was upon me with no money to spend. My brother’s son had been killed in August in a car accident. I wished that I could send gifts to his family as well as making Debbie’s Christmas special.
You had several guests in your home for the holidays. One was a cook from New York. We talked often at Jilly’s. I explained my plight to him one evening when he gave me a ride home from work. Debbie had used my car. We talked about the sterility of Jilly’s at Christmas time and that a few decorations would help. When I started to get out of the car, he pushed some bills in my hand and told me to spent no more than $50. for decorations, buy a special cigarette lighter for him and use the rest for Debbie’s and my Christmas.
When I got in the house, sitting on my bed, I opened the bills – a hundred dollar bill, another and another – at least five one hundred dollar bills or more! It looked like thousands to me at that time! My heart leaped with joy. I awoke Debbie to tell her there really WAS a Santa Clause! My sleep was restless – what could he “expect” in return? No man gives THAT kind of money without expecting some sort of sexual favors! NO! I could not accept it! I would not have any sort of obligation “hanging over my head!” I never would accept money from any man! As I have grown older, sometimes I regret that I did not make wiser decisions regarding men and their money when I was young and cute.
I did as he requested. I found the lighter he wanted and purchased ample Christmas decorations. I went to Jilly’s around noon to decorate. When I gave him the lighter, he took out a small piece of paper - lit it and it denigrated before my eyes! I did not want to know more! I assumed there might be some sort of Mafia affiliations and I wanted no part of it. I did not want to know a thing! I thanked him for his caring and concern for us but I could not accept his money. I made it very clear that I had nothing to offer him in return. As I explained and handed him the money he walked away saying he expected or wanted nothing from me.
It seems I still had around $500. left which I held onto like gold! I remember keeping it in the house terrified someone would steal it. I wrapped it in plastic and taped it behind my nightstand or under a drawer, moving it from one to the other. It was my emergency “stash” and gave me comfort to know it was THERE after bankruptcy and having nothing. I held on to it through the spring when I found it necessary to return to L.A. to look for work when tourist season ended in the desert that became disserted.
Danny, one of your best friends, lived in both San Francisco and Palm Springs. He was in your group in Jilly’s having dinner. He wanted to have a party for you at his house. Jimmy, the manager, was sending the band over to play. Jimmy came up to me and said Frank wants you to go to the party as his date. I told Jimmy it was too early for me to leave. Jimmy looked at me stunned. “If Frank wants you to go – you GO!” I WAS curious to know more about the real Frank Sinatra! Maybe this was the opportunity to see what was behind the loneliness I saw in your expressive blue eyes.
We went in Ruby’s car. He drove; you and I sat in the front seat with him. Like many “macho” men, seems the two of you carried on a conversation with each other more than with me. You did manage to show some affection, like a simple kiss. I noticed a very prominent scar behind your ear. Vaguely, I remembered stories about how you got it. There were always rumors about your Mafia connections. I really did not want to know a anything about those connections. I was totally surprised with your kisses. Somehow I imagined this extremely romantic, sexy singer would also be romantic in person. Not so! Your kisses reminded me of an awkward schoolboy not really knowing how to be sensuous. I, too, felt very awkward. Through the years I dated numerous famous men so that was not an issue with me. I did not want to be just “another notch on your belt” that you would forget after “a romp in the hay.” Fortunately or unfortunately which ever the case might be, I was having my period and no way was I open to have sex! I really wanted to know what went on inside of you – to know the real you. Silly me! Perhaps your interest in me was because you saw something of Grace Kelly in me as so many others had. Maybe you fell in love with Grace when you worked together in “High Society.”
Danny and his wife’s house was fairly new and was a lovely home. We headed for the bar. You were upset because the musicians were not there yet. Big deal! I didn’t see what difference it made. You reminded me of - again – a little boy stomping his feet to get his way. You went behind the bar, which was sunken so that your eyes were at my eye level. Two girls were there and in my estimation a bit “cheap” looking. They asked you for a drink and you replied in rather insulting words. Oh, oh! I took a look at you and thought – “If you talk to me in that tone of voice, I’m outta here!” I guess you saw it in my eyes because your whole mannerism changed as you asked me very sweetly “Honey, what would you like to drink.” There weren’t a lot of people there. You kept asking where is the band? Everyone seemed tense that you were upset! You grabbed me and told Ruby “Let’s get out of here!” I came with you so obviously I had to leave with you but I felt you were totally rude to the host and hostess. They were your friends and I am sure understood you far better than I did but they seemed upset that you were angry.
Ruby dropped us off at your house and went his way. I don’t remember much about your home. We seemed to enter the den and bar area. It was fairly ordinary looking – nice, but nothing spectacular. Perhaps other parts of it were more impressive. I believe it had several guest apartments. Books are always a way to know something about a person. I stood looking at your books while you went behind the bar. There on the bookshelves sat your Oscar. Ahhh, and my dream of owning one myself. I asked if I could pick it up. I never realized you received two Oscars – one in 1945 for “The House I Live In” – I did remember the 1953 “Maggio” role in “From Here to Eternity” – plus another nomination for “The Man With the Golden Arm,” which should have won. It was not the first Oscar that I held. Richard Lang, whom I dated off and on for several years, had Clark Gable’s Oscar. Gable had given it to him when he was a small boy. He had used it for a hammer. He had it reshaped and re-dipped in gold and in tiptop shape to give to Gable’s son.
Among your books was Pablo Picasso’s art works. I never knew you were called the “Picasso of Popular Music.” I was amused and told you – “You’re a bit like Picasso, I think. Seems to me Picasso sometimes tested just how far that he could go with the ridiculous. Still people bought and adored every thing he did. You are like
