saw a stranger. Adults felt they could sit and discuss things with her. That was because I had always treated her with some sort of equality regardless of her age. I was a far younger mother than her friends’ mothers, therefore, they treated me as a girlfriend or “big sister,” especially since Debbie often referred to me as her sister. Debbie used to say that her grandmother would have to be “grandma” to her kids as I had no lap to bounce them on – little did she know “mature” aging changes thin bodies for many of us!
The year before, I consulted my ex-husband in Denver when I needed to buy a car. Since he had always been in the car business when he wasn’t attempting to be an actor I assumed his recommendation was valid. He sent me to a “trustworthy” dealer down at the beach area. There sat a very clean large Thunderbird – light blue inside and out with lots of shiny chrome. Most women buy a car for the way it looks. I admit it must be a “pretty” car for me to buy it. Once I owned a GRAY Oldsmobile that I never liked because of the color. This T-Bird was so in love with auto repairmen, it never failed to automatically turn in to any repair shop it saw. There was more investment in repairs than in payments! The career wasn’t going well either.
I was on a spiritual “kick” and along with a spiritual female friend I had been attending events with, I moved to the mountains to share a house with her. We had grandiose plans to raise the money to buy a Boy Scout camp that had originally been built by an Indian Prophet, temple, et al. At that time it was for sale for a million dollars. It had the usual camp buildings plus this lovely Indian temple, round in structure with a golden dome. We found a house we could rent just outside the gate. There was an apartment downstairs so that Debbie and I had our own living space.
I was unbelievably broke and facing Bankruptcy. Debbie got a job in Lake Arrowhead at the Ice Cream Parlor while I worked as a cocktail waitress at the Inn. It wasn’t much but anything helped. Jeannie and I wrote letters asking for donations and attempted to find someone who could afford to buy the camp.
We wanted to create a retreat where anyone could go. We planned to offer courses for those who wished to go deeper into their spiritual path. It was to be open to all who needed a retreat. If one wanted to paint or write a book, this would be the place they could find peace and contentment.
Much to my chagrin, I was forced to turn in my beautiful but “a bomb” T-Bird back to the finance company. Of course, my credit plummeted. I had held on to a few hundred dollars that would help buy a car. I found a used car dealer in San Bernardino who sold all his cars for under $600. Ahh, that was the place for me. I found a large Mercury – I don’t recall the year, I remember it had an electric back window that was great for air circulation. It ran well the whole time that I had it. I ended up dating the owner a bit but don’t recall that helped me with the price of the car!
When late August and early September fog set in along mountain roads and my daughter facing her fun socializing last year of high school, suddenly great fear set in on ME! We were not getting anywhere with our Spiritual Center plans – My friend and her son seemed to be “way out in left field” in their actions and thinking. Debbie and I discussed the situation and made a quick decision to move to the desert.
School had just begun – Debbie missed only a few days. I had just enough money to pay for an apartment. I found a job immediately as a hostess in a restaurant in one of the best hotels. I had the early shift so that I planned to work two jobs. I didn’t even have money enough to pay for Debbie’s school supplies.
Only a few nights after we moved into the one bedroom furnished apartment, I heard a loud crash out on the street. When I went out past the pool to the street parking, there was my Mercury with the back fender smashed. GREAT! That was all I needed – a hit and run driver! The next morning I reported it to the police for all the good it would do – but – as luck would have it – the driver called the police and gave his name, insurance, etc. Within days I had an insurance payment enough to get us by for Debbie’s school supplies, etc. The Mercury never got repaired.
That was September – the job was very hard and very little money. By the time I got finished with my shift, after walking and on my feet all day, my feet and body were so tired, I couldn’t work another job. Perhaps due to the glamour of being a model, I was generally accepted anywhere. One day, I sat at the bar of the hotel where I was working, talking to a friend who was staying in the hotel. The manager told me I was not allowed to be in the bar at the hotel. I got a bit huffy at their ridiculous rules. European macho men owned the hotel and I was a bit too independent to put up with macho men’s attitudes. I began looking for work as a cocktail waitress.
In those days, cocktail waitresses were older with year of experience. I described cocktail waitresses as women could “bite nails with their teeth” and I don’t mean fingernails!
I was still very “green.” As a non-drinker, I didn’t know the names or content of different drinks, which caused some embarrassment for me. I went to work at the bar popular as a dance spot with very heavy weekend traffic. I do recall a man ordering Scotch and I asked if he wanted it with coke. I got a weird look and quickly learned the mixes. I met lots of guys. It was great for dating. It was hard work. I remember that I had rather go dancing than work there. “Caribbean Woman” was the popular song that I loved dancing to.
I don’t recall how the offer to have the coat and cigarette concession came up for the new nightspot, “Jilly’s.” You may have been part owner. I know that Jilly was one of your best friends. I got the job and created a cute uniform of a white blouse, short white leather skirt with a gold chain hanging belt. I bought the cigarettes at the drugstore across the street and put them in the tray selling for about twice what I paid. Very few coats came in when I took the job – it was before Thanksgiving and still warm in Palm Springs. Being a non-smoker, I knew nothing about purchasing cigarettes. I depended on the cocktail waitresses to tell me what to buy and what price to charge. I was not very smart about getting good tips. That seems to be a learned trait. I felt like such a novice among the cocktail waitresses who made it their profession for years. In those days, unlike today, a woman had to be older and experienced to get the really good cocktail waitress jobs. I finally learned that by changing the price of the cigarettes so that I gave the customer back only dimes. The little dimes seemed too small to pick up but not showy enough for a tip, so it increased my tips greatly.
When one entered Jilly’s on Indian Avenue, there was a dining area and the bar that had a small stage for entertainers. In the larger back dining room was my little coat check booth. This room was not always occupied so that I could get away from the smoke-filled bar area. It was the room that you and your guest usually occupied.
Being from New York, Jilly attracted many New Yorkers, thus, better coat tips. Jilly wasn’t there very often. The manager, Jimmy, who was my boss, was a very typical not-to-bright Brooklyn “hood” type man. It took a lot of psychology to get along with him.
You came in several times a week. I was seeing Frank Sinatra IN PERSON for the first time – THE legend! “Old Blue Eyes” known the world over! Your eyes were very expressive but I saw in them great loneliness. You stared at me often. I didn’t just imagine it because you seemed to find some excuse to come over and talk to me when I was at the coat booth. I watched your groups come and go – puppets all.
No doubt you had your reasons for a bit of paranoia. I had never seen anyone insist on all unopened bottles of booze and mixers. I was amused at the show – you were the puppeteer. Famous and rich people were your puppets. You were the king – You spoke, they listened - you stood, all rose! I am sure you enjoyed that kind of power and adulation; yet, we each live in our own cocoon with our own personal needs, insecurities, etc. You definitely had yours.
Dear sweet, Ruby, of Ruby Dunes, your favorite restaurant, was always so kind to me. Ruby always liked me but knew, of course, he was much too old for me. He had allowed a friend and me to stay at his house on occasions
