Hold the Roses (17 page)

He said that when we went to the ladies room, Jim looked at him and
said, "Her father called and wanted me to send her back home-alone.
But we don't butt into any poisenal stuff. She's old enough to know what
she wants and if you're it, fine. As I say, we don't butt into any poisenal."
He then leaned over the table and looked Bobby in the eyes and said, "But
if you hurt one hair on her head," and snapped his fingers and his arm
made the whole table shake. His hands were as big as hams, Again he said,
"You kids look like you're in love and as I told you, we don't like to butt in
on family problems... business is another story. You harm her in any way,"
and again he snapped his fingers and the whole table shook again.

Bobby kept telling him, "I love her. I just want to make her happy. I
can take care of her if she doesn't want to work. It's about time she had a
life after all she's done for everybody."

Jim just looked at him and smiled. "You're all right, kid."

That's when Kay and I came back to the table.

We left the next morning-and again, no hotel bill. I guess Jim paid
for it. Like I said before, those guys were so wonderful to me!

On to Route 66, through Amarillo and Albuquerque. We averaged
about four hundred miles a day, nice and easy, stopping where we wanted to, not a care in the world. I don't think I could make a trip like that today;
it seems like I'm always racing against time. I'm always trying to get here
and there and get back.

We stopped in Las Vegas. There were only two hotels, the Last Frontier and the El Rancho. Nothing around but sand and desert. The Bernard
Brothers were playing at the Last Frontier, so we went to see them. I had
worked with them many times. We saw the show and had a cup of tea
afterwards. We didn't gamble. We were afraid to lose a buck! We stayed at
a motel-my first glimpse of a motel. They were not as common as they
are now.

The next day, on to Los Angeles. We went to Bert and Bob Zaccho's
Kennels in the San Fernando Valley. They were friends of Bobby's from
before he went into the army. Bobby owned the first boxer dog in America.
A doctor friend of his was getting a divorce and was so mad at his wife that
he took this boxer, worth about $7,500, and gave it to Bobby. Bobby showed
the dog in many dog shows and won a lot of prizes. All boxers today stem
from this one. Ingo Von Hager was his name. Bobby knew a lot about the
show world of dogs. Bob Zaccho was a handler and Bert, his wife, ran the
kennels. They were wonderful to us. They said, "Stay with us until you get
settled." Bert was an excellent cook, so I learned a few tricks about cooking. After all, I was now a housewife-living in a kennel!

(f~oRgvood Loa, 4(ol&a, avid CWo1lL

We arrived on a Sunday, and Bobby went down to see Kay Kyser at NBC on
Monday to see what was going on. They were all so happy to see him. Kay
had most of the original band together. However, it was a different deal.
Instead of $450 a week, which Bobby was making before he went into the
army, it was now scale-$75 for the radio show only. What a comedown!

One of the trumpet players, Pokey Carrier, came over to Bobby and
said, "Sure glad you showed up. I have an offer from Glen Gray and didn't
know how I could leave this show. Now you can take over. We rehearse
Monday and Wednesday and do the radio show on Wednesday."

They talked to Kay and he said, "Fine. Come in Wednesday, we'll
rehearse and you'll do the radio show."

Bobby said, "Fine." He called Tommy Jones, another trumpet player
and good friend; he had Bobby's horns and clothes. Bobby said he would
pick them up. He was going back to work. Then he came back to the
kennel and told me what had happened. He was worried because he hadn't
touched a horn in two months, so he immediately started to practice.

He said, "I'll be through at nine o'clock, pick me up at NBC in
Hollywood."

I drove him to work and came back and listened to the show. He was
great! He did impressions of Harry James and Clyde McCoy, and of course
he played the entire show. He really sounded good. He came out from the
studio and he looked like a whipped dog.

He got in the car, put his head back and said, "I'm tired."

I said, "But you did a great show. I'm proud of you, sweetheart."

When we got back to the kennel, Bert made him something to eat
and Bobby told me all the news about doing the show for scale. He said,
"I've always been with Kay, I've never had another job. Now I have to start
looking for other work. Oh, by the way, Pokey is going with Glen Gray
and his wife is visiting her folks in Louisiana. They asked me if we wanted
to rent their house in Culver City."

I said, "Fine. It's easy to move. We have no furniture, nothing, and
we can buy things we need little by little."

So it was set: as soon as they moved out, we would move in. At least
we would have a place of our own for a couple of months. Pokey's wife
called me and said, "Everything is there to use. Use it-sheets, pillow cases,
dishes, silverware, pots and pans."

I thought, Great! We'd start getting our own things, little by little.
Until then, we'll use her things. It was really a blessing.

Bobby was worried about work. He said he'd have to try to make
some contacts.

I said, "Don't worry, once they find out you're in town, they'll call
you. You have to refer to your book."

He said, "What book?"

"Look, when they call and ask you if you're available, you say, I have
to check my book." I said. "They will think you're all booked up and busy!
Then you say, `What day?' Wait awhile and say, `Oh yes, I'm available.' It
always works!"

And it did!

Perry Botkin, Bing Crosby's guitar player and contractor, called Bobby
and asked if he was available. Bobby did exactly as I told him to.

He said, "I have to check my book." I smiled at him. He looked at
me and I gave him the okay sign.

He then said, "What day?"

Perry said, "Thursday. It's for the Crosby show"

Bobby said, "Oh yeah, I can make it on Thursday." I died laughing.
He was learning fast.

He got off the phone and said, "My God! First trumpet for Bing Crosby!"

I said, "There'll be more."

Bobby also took a job at Ciro's, which meant he had to work every night,
but it meant more money and we could start buying our own furnishings.

I've always handled the money. I don't know why, but Bobby used to
come home and give me his checks. I'd give him about thirty dollars to have in his pocket and would try to pay the bills with the rest-rent, groceries, cleaners, telephone, all that.

He said, "You take care of things. I don't like to do things like that."

I said, "Okay." Little did I know, he was training me to make decisions on my own, bless him.

Berle Adams found me somehow. He was head of Mercury Records.
I had owed them two sides on a record deal.

He said, "I'd like to clear this up. We'll pick the songs and Earl Hagen
will make the arrangements." The wheel goes round and round: Earl Hagen
later wrote the theme song and all the music needed for The Dick Van Dyke
Show, and we became the best of friends.

I asked Berle, "Big band?"

He said, "Yes."

I then said, "I have a list of the musicians I want in the band, and
Bobby plays first trumpet. I want Dave Klein to contract it.,,

He said, "All right. Get your list ready and I'll call you tomorrow."

I hung up and said to Bobby, "Give me the names of all the top
musicians in town."

He said, "Why?"

I told him I wanted everybody to know he was in town and working.
I wanted Dave Klein to set up the date and I wanted his brother, Manny
Klein, one of the great trumpet players of all time, to be in the band. "You
will play first trumpet," I said. Talk about guts-but it worked!

Bobby and I walked into the studio together. We both greeted Dave
Klein, who said, "Your father gave me a cigar when you were born."

I said, "This is my husband, Bobby Guy. We just got married and I
want you to take care of him as far as dates are concerned." That was a little
pushy, I know, but I had to do my part to help.

Dave said, "He's a good musician. He'll work, don't worry."

Bobby went up to the brass section. Manny Klein was there, and
Conrad Gozzo. The first chair was open for Bobby. He told me later, he
almost died, but he sat down. Manny introduced himself, as did Gozzo.
Manny leaned over to Bobby and said, "We have an unwritten club here
for first trumpet player. You get double time on all your dates. If I find out
you took less, you won't work in this town."

Bobby gulped and said, "You got it, Manny."

As for me, I had never heard of the songs I was going to sing. I told
Earl, "Please play them through for me so I can get an idea."

They played the arrangement, I had the sheet music with the lyricsI can't read music-and Earl showed me where to come in.

They played it again and I said, "Okay, let's make one!" It turned out
to be pretty good, so we went on to the next song. They played it twice and
we made the second side. I thanked Earl and the band. They were amazed.
We did both songs in an hour, on a three-hour session. The guys in the
band were impressed, and my Bobby just smiled and winked at me.

Things were going pretty good. Now we had a little money and the
house we rented was cute and small. I was cooking every night and learning a lot of new recipes. My girlfriend Dottie, from Jersey, gave me The Joy
of Cooking-it was a godsend.

One day Bobby said, "Why don't you make some beef stew?" I was
cooking mostly Italian food, which I knew how to make.

I said, "Okay, tonight we'll have beef stew."

I went to the store and the butcher was very nice and understanding.
I said, "I've never made beef stew, but I have a recipe I can follow."

He said, "I'll give you the best meat for stew," and he did. It was
beautiful to look at. I went home, got the book out and started to make
beef stew. It's an old joke, folks, but it happened to me, honest to God.
The stew was doing beautifully, and it smelled great. As I turned my back,
the page in the cookbook flipped over to the next page! I looked at the
recipe and it said "1/2 cup parsley." So I dumped a half cup of parsley in the
stew. It turned a muddy green, but I thought, what the hell, maybe that's the
way it should look. It smelled good and tasted great-it just looked muddy
green.

Bobby came home and we sat down to eat. By now I had noticed
what had happened with the cookbook, but I didn't say anything. I served
the stew. God, it looked awful. Bobby looked at it...didn't say a word... took
a bite and said, "This is delicious, but I've never seen beef stew with such a
funny color."

I said, "It's Irish Stew!"

Honestly, I said that-and he bought it. At least I think he did.

We were very happy and doing all right. Bobby was doing the Kyser
show, Bing's show, "Take It or Leave It," and doubling at Ciro's. Pretty
soon he had to quit Ciro's because he was getting a lot of other shows,
including the old Danny Thomas radio show. (Again, the wheel goes round
and round.)

Bill Loeb from MCA called me and said he wanted to talk to Bobby and me. I thought, Now what? I told Bobby and we made an appointment to
meet with him. We went to Beverly Hills and met Bill at the MCA offices.
Bill was now working in California and had moved his family out here.

He started to talk to us. "Okay, you've proven your point. You're
married, and Bobby is doing well, but you are turning down thousands of
dollars-for what? I've had a lot of offers for you. You still owe a few dates,
like the Capitol Theater in New York, Mounds Club in Cleveland, and
Lowe's State. Why are you doing this?"

I said, "I have no gowns or music. I would have to start from scratch,
plus I'm showing my father I don't have to work."

Bill said, "Big deal. Listen, you're old enough to be on your own. You
proved that by getting married. I'm telling you, you take some of these
dates and in five years you and Bobby can stick your five fingers to your
nose to everybody! Don't be a fool. Bobby, talk to her."