Backstage at The Price Is Right: Memoirs of A Barker Beauty (20 page)

I was invited back to the Night of 100 Stars every year by Peter’s organization. Each year was as thrilling as the first, but none was as rewarding and memorable as 1999, the year I was escorted by a very special guest—my mother. I had taken my mother out many times with me to big star-studded events, and she would fit right in. Men would either garner for her attention because they wanted to get next to me or they were intrigued and captivated by her beauty and charm, as she would hold court while telling her naughty little jokes.

That particular year, my mother caught the attention of seasoned actor John Saxon, who has worked on over 200 projects during the span of sixty years and acclaimed British actor John Rhys-Davies, best known to film audiences for his roles in the blockbuster hits
Raiders of the Lost Ark
and
Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade
. Rhys-Davies was later introduced to a new generation of fans in the blockbuster trilogy
The Lord of the Rings
. It was hard to break them away from her, but I promised we’d reconvene in the reception area after the show.

A snapshot of the celebrated actors in attendance would include James Woods, Mimi Rogers, Keith Carradine, Donny Wahlberg, Stephanie Powers, Patrick Stewart, Jesse Metcalfe, Michael Chiklis, C.C.H. Pounder, Martin Landau, Tony Curtis, Rod Steiger, Fred ‘The Hammer’ Williamson, Maximilian Schell, and Stella Stevens, just to mention a few.

When Mother Nature called, I made my way into the ladies’ room, where I ran into the voluptuous, sensational, and gorgeous Anna Nicole Smith. We were briefly introduced by Peter in the reception area prior to everyone going into the grand ballroom. For one reason or another, we struck up a conversation and started chatting about everything that came to mind. We were both feeling no pain and had our buzzes going on. She told me that she was very well aware of who I was and that she watched
TPIR
whenever she had a chance or if she just happened to be awake at 10 a.m., which she admitted was rare. She also informed me that she had always thought that I was one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen and that I was even more beautiful in person. Of course, that made my day as I thought the exact same thing about her beauty. We laughed and carried on so long in the ladies room that her date sent someone in to see if she was okay or needed any help. She reassured the courier that she was okay and replied, “Tell him I’m okay and to keep his panties on.” Everyone who was in earshot of Anna’s comment cracked up. We finally wrapped up our conversation and hugged as if we were old friends and promised we would stay in touch after the event. Neither one of us had a pen or business card, so we were unable to exchange contact information at the time. When the event was over, there were so many people wondering around that we lost sight of each other and, sadly, never ran into one another again.

Of course, everyone went their separate ways after the awards show was over. But just the thought of the two famous Johns (Saxon and Rhys- Davies) wanting to spend more time with Mom, plus the additional excitement she encountered that evening, was all she needed to boast about the next day to her sister, Betty, and favorite cousin, Helen, back in Ohio, as well as her L.A. gal-pals at their weekly bid whist game.

After I dropped my mother off at her condo, I headed home to my modest Baldwin Hills abode, which was less than a mile away from Mom. Even though I lived what appeared to be a very glamorous Hollywood lifestyle, it was pale in comparison to the many big-named stars with whom I had come into contact. Their beautiful, opulent homes made me sick with envy. As always, after returning home from Beverly Hills, I was quickly put back in check with reality. As I parked my 1996 Mercury Marquise in my two-car garage, I acknowledged how grateful and thankful I was for my wonderful family, friends, and neighbors. But most importantly, I was grateful to be home to lay my tired, weary, and inebriated head down next to my exceptionally wonderful and understanding husband.

Chapter 32

She’s Just a Love Machine

B
etween waking up at 6:00 a.m., driving the kids to school by 7:30 a.m. every morning, going to work at
TPIR
by 10:30 a.m., getting home after work at about 6:30 p.m., fixing dinner, helping the kids with homework, spending time with my husband, and Lord knows whatever else, how in the world did I dare take on one more task? You would think that would be enough activity in one day for any one person. I suppose I had taken to heart the song made famous by Whitney Houston and Chaka Khan: “I’m Every Woman.”

In the spring of 1997, I received a call from Ted Jackson, liaison and personal assistant to my former manager, John Daniels, regarding a meeting at Maverick’s to explore reuniting The Love Machine. After Ted and I spoke, I acknowledged that I was interested to hear what John had to propose and looked forward to the meeting.

Ted was John’s “Good Man Friday,” his go-to guy for all occasions. Ted had been around Maverick’s since 1970 and was the glue that held the club together over many decades. Ted is by far one of the nicest human beings that you will ever meet in your life. The Love Machine had always been a vital part of my life, as was everyone who was associated with it. All of the original seven ladies in The Love Machine were best friends since its inception in 1971 and remained so over the years. Maverick’s Flat was like our second home; we had spent most of our young adult lives there, rehearsing, performing, or just having a good old
Soul Train
party.

I left the group in 1978 to get married to my first husband, Bill Overton, whom I had dated and lived with in Los Angeles for two years while I was in the group. I’ll never forget that icy, cold winter’s day in Helsinki, where The Love Machine was back to perform by popular demand at the Hotel Hesperia. After performing on the road in Europe for over five months straight without returning to the states, I received a call from Bill. I didn’t realize what icy cold really was until I received his unsettling phone call. He was abrasive and uncompromising as he demanded, “Either you come home and marry me, or our relationship is over.”

Whoever coined the phrase “absence makes the heart grow fonder” is full of bull. Bill was not only missing me dearly, but he was also disenchanted and disappointed that The Love Machine had not achieved a higher level of success after having been in the business for over seven years under the direction of Mr. Daniels.

I was so taken aback by the abruptness and finality of his demand that chills ran up and down my spine. I could not believe that he was giving me an ultimatum, knowing how much The Love Machine meant to me. We had been working hard all over the world, performing on major TV shows. We had been signed to several major record labels and worked as an opening act for some of the world’s most famous entertainers. And now, all of it was about to come to an abrupt end for me.

I paused and my heart stood still as I tried to absorb what Bill had just dropped on me. My short lapse of silence seemed like an entire minute, when in fact, after about fifteen seconds of silence, he wanted to know if I was still on the line. I knew there was but one answer that I could give the man that I loved and yearned for every night before I went to sleep, the man who had been so patient and supportive for all of these years. That answer could only be “Yes.” I sighed. “Okay, I’ll quit the group and come home to marry you. But I must give John time to replace me, which I hope will only take a few months.”

I reassured Bill that I would get back to him soon and let him know when I would be returning home. We were still on tour and looking forward to the upcoming concert dates in Africa and London, England, so I couldn’t very well just pick up and leave. I wanted to finish out the tour, but that would have been another three months or possibly longer. When we started out on this particular European tour, it was originally scheduled for only three months; however, more dates were added as our popularity soared. Plus, it was cheaper to keep us on the road while we were already on the other side of the world. Any time longer than two or three months would have placed my relationship with Bill in jeopardy.

My decision to leave was going to affect the overall future of the group, and I needed time to think about how I was going to approach the girls with this very sensitive news. My roommate, Bernice, was listening to music under her headset while Bill and I were talking and was totally oblivious to the entire conversation. After I hung up the phone, I burst into tears and couldn’t stop crying. I had so many mixed emotions: the joy of the marriage proposal and the agony of leaving the group.

Bernice asked, “Kathy, what’s wrong?”

Through the sniffles and snorts, I shared with her the conversation that had just taken place between Bill and me. She sat on her bed in silence and wasn’t sure how to respond. Bernice and I had always been roommates ever since the group’s inception. We shared so many secrets and bedtime stories, which we swore we would take to our graves. She was always so supportive and probably the most neutral and trustworthy member in the group. We continued to talk, laugh, and cry for several hours about the pros and cons of my decision. I asked her not to mention anything to the girls until I was able to gather everyone together and try to break it to them gently.

After the last of our two shows for that evening, I asked all of the girls to meet me in my hotel room. As everyone assembled, I began by saying, “I have good news, and I have bad news. First, the good news: Bill has asked me to marry him.”

Everyone was thrilled, jumping up and down and congratulating me with kisses and hugs, so very happy and excited for Bill and me.

Reneé exclaimed, “Kathy will be the first Love Machine to get married!”

After everyone calmed down for a moment, choosing my words carefully, knowing what the impact and ramifications would hold, I stated, “But … Bill has also asked me to leave The Love Machine. And I said, ‘Okay.’”

The room fell silent. They were dumbstruck and in disbelief over what they’d just heard. We had spent the last seven years of our lives literally eating, sleeping, and drinking together, joined at the hip. For all intents and purposes, we were as close as blood sisters!

Mary argued, “How are you going to just up and leave like that? That’s really unfair to us. Now we’re going to have to train somebody new. It’s like starting over again, so unfair. We’ll be going through hell while you’re lying up at home with your new husband. That’s just not right.”

I knew Mary was saying these things because she was hurt and felt betrayed, and I couldn’t blame her. We all exchanged more dialogue of the same nature, and all I could do was continuously apologize. Everyone slowly filed out of my room. Paulette turned and said, “Well, Kathy, you got to do what you got to do, and I ain’t mad at you.” She gave me a big hug and bid me good night.

Our manager, John, was in Los Angeles, working with some of his other performing artists when he became aware of the news regarding my departure. He was upset and disappointed, but he understood a man’s need to have the woman he loved by his side. John always had a contingency plan for any and all unexpected situations. He recruited Gwen Brisco, a member of one of his other groups, who would take my place. Gwen was an extraordinary performer and John’s mistress.

John and Gwen met up with us several weeks later in Libreville, Gabon in Africa, ready and eager to help make the transition as smooth as possible. There was a lot of tension in the air during this time. For one, the girls were becoming more resentful toward me for leaving, and two, they were not digging on Gwen sleeping with John because we all knew and loved his wife, Karen. The situation made everyone feel uncomfortable. We spent countless hours going over the choreography and songs, and there were many. At certain gigs, we had to perform four one-hour shows a night with no repeat songs. Thank goodness Gwen was an excellently trained dancer and an accomplished entertainer; it helped make the transition a lot easier.

After four weeks of performing throughout Africa, the time had come to end one chapter in my life and prepare to begin the next exciting journey. We all flew into Heathrow Airport in London together, where we said our goodbyes. It felt strange leaving the girls behind as I boarded the flight to Los Angeles by myself, headed home as promised to Bill.

Bill and I got married six months later and had our beautiful daughter, Cheyenne, in 1982. And we divorced in 1983. The Love Machine remained together and forged ahead for an additional twelve years, much longer than my marriage had lasted. Over the years, numerous young ladies had joined the group every time someone dropped out. It was never quite the same after I left. We all remained in touch throughout the years, during the good times and the bad.

The meeting at Maverick’s about The Love Machine’s reunion was held after I finished working on
TPIR
. John explained that he wanted to reunite the original Love Machine with just five of us this time. It would be me, Renée, Mary, Sheila, and my predecessor, and now John’s wife, Gwen. A few of the original members had either gotten married, started their own families and new careers, or weren’t available. Everyone was excited about reuniting and taking the group to a whole new phase of success on this go round.

John said, “I think we’ll drop the word ‘The’ in front of Love Machine and just be called, ‘Love Machine.’ It sounds more up to date and fresh.”

We all nodded in agreement. Although I felt excited about the possibility of getting The Love Machine back on track, I still had reservations. How could I legitimately fit this new project into my already hectic schedule without compromising my job at
TPIR
and my lifestyle at home with my husband and kids? How would I juggle this additional venture and keep my sanity?

When I was fully able to grasp what was about to transpire and how my life could conceivably make a paradigm shift, I sat the family down to discuss the possibility of reuniting with The Love Machine and to get their honest feedback. The excitement in my voice let them know that not only was it in my heart to go for it, but it was a dream deferred that needed to be fulfilled. They all gave me their blessings and two thumbs up.

After coming home from work, preparing dinner, and making sure everyone was taken care of, it was time to head out to Maverick’s for rehearsal from 8:00 p.m. to 11:00 p.m., and some evenings, we were there as late as 1:00 a.m. The long hours at the recording studio, the arduous choreography rehearsals, and learning a new song every night in preparation for our comeback performance at the MGM Grand Hotel in Las Vegas were beginning to take a toll on me. I will always pride myself as a true professional in whatever I do. I rehearsed and performed 100 percent with the Love Machine and never missed a beat at work on
TPIR,
until one day when exhaustion set in after a long late-night rehearsal. I literally dozed off and fell asleep, drooling while standing up in the Green Room one day. Debbie Curling witnessed my declining energy and nodding on several occasions and suggested that I get some rest because it was beginning to show on the air. I would have to take catnaps between the shows and rehearsals just to make it through the day. Some of those catnaps lapsed into real naps, which caused me to be late on stage for rehearsals on a few occasions.

One day during a nap, I overslept and the show was about to begin. I was still in my robe as I heard the music begin and the applause from the audience as Rod announced Barker. I jumped up. “Oh shit! I’m in trouble now.” I was partially dressed, with shoes in hand, zipping my dress as I leaped down the stairs in warp speed and made it on stage just in time before the doors opened for the first item up for bid.
Whew!
That was too close for comfort, and I knew that something had to give.

John had arranged our five-day engagement at the MGM Grand Hotel to coincide with my days off from
Price
. It was magical for us being back on stage performing again, doing what we loved to do best, especially in Vegas; although, after a night’s performance of three hard-paced shows, we could barely get out of bed the next morning. The years of performing were beginning to take a toll on our more mature bodies, and we weren’t getting any younger. We were a big success at the MGM Grand and were invited back for a future date.

Many of the
TPIR
staff and crew were aware of my renewed venture with my former group and came out to support me when we performed at the Century Club on Constellation Avenue in Century City. The Century Club was once the Playboy Club, where, in the mid-seventies, the original The Love Machine had performed for Hugh Heffner and his distinguished guests. So here we were, back in the saddle again.

I was delighted to see my two dear friends and hanging-out buddies, Jerry Dunphy Sr. and Ivar Hagberg, come out to support the group and me. Ivar was a multi- millionaire businessman and entrepreneur. He was also a wild and crazy kind of guy, whom I adored. We met at the Night of 100 Stars with his longtime friend Jerry Dunphy Sr. Jerry was a legendary television news anchor in the Los Angeles/Southern California media market. He was best known for his catchy intro “From the desert to the sea, to all of Southern California, a good evening.” What a coincidence that Jerry Dunphy Jr. worked at CBS and had been a part of the
TPIR
crew for many years. Ivar was probably one of the only individuals that could call me out and put me in check when I was acting loud and wild from drinking too much. He was usually more inebriated than I was at the time, so it was funny hearing it from him. He and my husband would gang up on me whenever we were all out together for dinner or cocktails when I would say something that was, cynical, uncouth, or blatantly out of context, which was funny, but embarrassing at times.

Ivar had a production company and owned the building in the Hancock Park area on the corner of Rossmore and Wilshire. He had invited me up to his office to see if there was anything of interest that I might want to do there, such as record, host my own TV show, use one of the executive suites for a meeting, etcetera. The group was looking for investors to help finance us to the next level. John had been spending his own money on the group in hopes for the big payback. I invited Ivar to come take a look at the group, optimistically hoping that he might be interested in making a wise investment. I thought this would be a good time to take him up on his offer to help further my career.