NEW YORK STORIES OF THE FIFTIES: PART FOUR

In an earlier story on James Michael Curley we met Kate and Matt Jameson, a couple in their early 20’s. We also met Kate’s aunt and uncle, Kelly and Brendan McGrath, a sophisticated, successful and well-connected couple in their late 40’s. As we saw, Kelly and Brendan were mentors and role models.

    The McGrath’s lived in and worked out of Boston, but spent considerable time out of town, especially in New York, Chicago and L.A. They had urgent business in Manhattan; and since it was the Jameson’s first anniversary, they asked them along to check out the nightlife.

    The story that follows is part four of four episodes experienced on one not-soon-forgotten night in mid-1950’s Manhattan. A few years back, one of my relatives, a skilled diarist, showed me the stories to use as I wished. They are a poignant look at New York nightlife from a bygone era. Adaptation of style is limited; the story lines as originally written remain the same.

As they crossed Park Avenue, Matt noticed four people leaving the ambassador Hotel. What caught his eye was a striking blond escorted by three, small dark-complexioned men. From his trailing position of about a half-block, he could see that the woman was wearing a simple black dress, had good legs and was ever-so-slightly bowlegged. When she turned to speak to one of her companions, Matt said to Kate, “That’s Marilyn Monroe up ahead.” 

    “No way,” and they looked back to see Kelly and Brendan gazing up at a building as they kept following Marilyn. Her group stopped under the Waldorf Astoria marquee with the three men gathered around talking with the smiling Marilyn who, to their surprise, wore no makeup.

    She raised over her head what looked like a party favor and shot it off. Streamers blossomed up, caught in the grate above and cascaded around Marilyn’s head and shoulders. She twirled laughing brightly, ravishing in this spontaneous touch of glamour.

    Marilyn stopped in mid-turn and scolded, “Kelly, Brendan what are you doing following me? I’ll bet you rats are staying right here and didn’t even call me.”

    Kelly said, “Marilyn, you look like a teenager.”

    “I wish I felt like one. Who are your friends? You know Lee Strasberg, Milton Green . . . .” They missed the third name. Marilyn looked at them directly during the introductions. She had captivating eyes of an unusual slate-blue color and her mouth and the incredibly pliable skin: It was suddenly no mystery why the camera loved her.

     Marilyn turned to her friends. “I’ve got to ditch you guys. I must talk with Kelly and Brendan." After good-byes were exchanged, Marilyn said, “Let’s go into Peacock Alley for a drink." She didn’t form her words as theatrically as in the movies, just enough to make the word “drink” look and sound like an invitation to pleasure. With the cuddly affection of a younger sister, Marilyn took Kelly’s arm and led them into the Waldorf. Kate did a happy pirouette through the streamers.

    Knowing Marilyn liked it, Brendan ordered champagne, and after the toast Kate got it up her nose followed by a world-class, red-in-the-face, tears-in-the-eyes sneezing fit. She said later, “What a cretin. I’m drinking champagne with Marilyn Monroe at the Waldorf and sneeze my brains into the glass.” 

    In a few minutes Kate returned fully stabilized from the ladies room. Marilyn leaned forward and said, “Your green irises are flecked with yellow, like a tiger’s eyes. Never saw that before, beautiful. And those cheekbones, are you part Indian, Kate?”

    “One-quarter Oglala Sioux.”
    “You have a classic face and a nice voice, too. Ever done any serious acting?”

    “No.”

    “Neither have I.” Total break-up led by Marilyn with her light-up-the-room laugh and incandescent smile. She was gorgeous; the on-screen sex appeal was no illusion.

     As they collected themselves and sipped champagne, an understated jazz theme successfully gathered the essence of cool. Matt asked Brendan who the piano player was. “Bill Evans, filling in tonight for a friend; he plays in a group with Miles Davis. I think he’s terrific.”

    During a drum solo, Kelly said, "Kate’s a singer, Marilyn. She sang with Gerry Mulligan and Chet Baker at Storyville in Boston. They wanted her in the band, but she passed.”

    “Smart move, I don’t know anything about Mulligan, but the word on the Coast is that Baker’s bad news.” Marilyn hadn’t spoken directly to Matt since the introductions, but her eyes included him in the conversation. “Matt, what did you think of Kate joining the group?”

    “I was plotting their murders between the time Kate told us they asked her and when she said she wasn’t interested.” 

    “That’s a good husband who would kill to keep his wife.” Marilyn then asked Kelly, “Have you seen Joe?”

    “Yes, earlier tonight at Toots’.”

“I always thought his hugs, Toots, I mean, were an excuse for a cheap feel. How’s Joe? Did he ask for me?”

“Yes, he heard you did Blanche at the Actor’s Studio. He obviously misses you.”

“If I have to live off roles like that, I’ll need to depend on the kindness of strangers. I miss him, too. I still love him. Marriage is uphill for me. I’m not good at it.” Marilyn smiled, scanned their faces and said in a sweet voice, “Looks like you four are.”

Matt thought, 'I now believe it’s possible to be in love with two women at the same time.'

Kate and Matt blamed the hour and how New York had caught up with them and said goodnight. As they exited Peacock alley and entered the Waldorf lobby, they looked back and saw Brendan get up, kiss Kelly and Marilyn and leave the table. Kate said, “Marilyn’s nice and so dishy.”

“I never notice other women when I’m with you.”

“Oh bullshit, I could hear you drooling. What a mess we’re in. I’m in love with Joe DiMaggio and you with Marilyn Monroe. We are such a twisted pair of losers. Two x’s in love with two ex’s.”

Matt’s burst got a “shhh” and a finger to the lips from the desk clerk. The twit also raised an eyebrow, as in how dare you cause a ruckus at the Waldorf. Matt’s middle finger itched; he resisted the temptation.

The hotel was closing down for the night. A vacuum cleaner hummed in a room off the lobby. A few late-nighters struggled out of cabs as Kate and Matt pushed through the Park Avenue exit into a warm, light rain. Marilyn’s streamers still hung from the grate. For a couple of years residual shreds remained from where they had been torn off. Eventually, they wore away or were shined off.

They grabbed a taxi back to the Algonquin and carried on deep in the back seat. Joe and Marilyn reunited in the fantasy cab.

Richard J. Noyes, former Associate Director, Center for Advanced Engineering Study, Massachusetts Institute of Technology is a consultant to public and private sector organizations.

Noyes is the co-author with Pamela J. Robertson of Larceny of Love, a provocative print and eBook novel that traces the interwoven careers of three men in jeopardy (one of whom is a professional pitcher who experiences sudden, extreme, unexplained, career-threatening wildness) and the unforgettable women in their lives.   http://amzn.to/u0LtvX                                http://bit.ly/upp8hX  (Nook)     http://bit.ly/v1qaGe  (Google e-Books)

“Whenever dramatic storytelling about people you like is created around business, sports and film, I'm a happy reader. I'm sure you will be as well.”  –Kevin Marcus, Sotheby Vice President      

Another recent print and eBook by Richard Noyes and Pamela Robertson: Guts in the Clutch: 77 Legendary Triumphs, Heartbreaks, and Wild Finishes in 12 Sports, with a Foreword by Drew Olson of ESPN.   http://gutsintheclutch.com/

“The best compilation of fascinating sports stories I have read.” -David Houle, Emmy and Peabody Award-winning producer of documentaries on Hank Aaron and the Harlem Globetrotters.

NEW YORK STORIES OF THE FIFTIES: PART THREE

In an earlier story on James Michael Curley we met Kate and Matt Jameson, a couple in their early 20’s. We also met Kate’s aunt and uncle, Kelly and Brendan McGrath, a sophisticated, successful and well-connected couple in their late 40’s. As we saw, Kelly and Brendan were mentors and role models.

    The McGrath’s lived in and worked out of Boston, but spent considerable time out of town, especially in New York, Chicago and L.A. They had urgent business in Manhattan; and since it was the Jameson’s first anniversary, they asked them along to check out the nightlife.

    The story that follows is part three of four episodes experienced on one not-soon-forgotten night in mid-1950’s Manhattan. A few years back, one of my relatives, a skilled diarist, showed me the stories to use as I wished. They are a poignant look at New York nightlife from a bygone era. Adaptation of style is limited; the story lines as originally written remain the same.

The four continued their stroll up Sixth Avenue with Kelly and Brendan observing the architecture of the buildings, with Kate offering pithy observations. They turned onto 53rd Street, walked down the block and crossed 5^th Avenue. Brendan stopped in front of the Stork Club, looked at his watch and said, “I told Walter I’d try to stop in tonight, mind?”

    The doorman swung them through into a blur of oak, drinks, dark suits, fur and glitter all backlit in a lavender glow. They found space at the long bar amidst the darting eyes and air-kissing artifice. Brendan said. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”

    Kate asked Kelly, “If I may be so bold, who’s Walter?"

    “Winchell. I loathe the piranha; but when you manage other people’s money you gotta’ do what you gotta’ do, and Brendan’s back in the Cub Room doing it. I hope he screws him good.” There was an edge in Kelly’s voice they had never heard before. Beneath her naturalness and warmth lay a reserve of street toughness accumulated from early childhood and the years on Broadway and in Hollywood.  

    The main room of the Stork Club was partially hidden. They heard champagne corks popping like drumfire and parties at table whooping it up; and caught glimpses of balloons clinging to the walls and thin, table-hopping women in expensive black. Matt decided to follow the advice of a college friend from the South and ‘just sit there and grin.’

    A sleek character in tux and and smile slid out of the doorway. Kelly said, “Here comes Sherman Billingsley, the owner of the joint. He’s spotted us. Be prepared for a fluid schmooze. He could charm a basket of snakes.”

    Billinsgley was ambushed at the other end of the bar by a couple gushing oil. He, well-girthed and ten-galloned; she chiffoned and a bit Steinway in the leg. It looked like a hopeless trap in an insipid conversation. Billingsley’s getaway was a masterstroke: He tossed a small box of matches in one hand and pointed to a large goblet halfway down the bar with the other. He flicked the matches into the goblet, and his guests laughed and clapped. They pivoted in their seats, and with impeccable timing the retreating Billingsley rewarded them with a disarming wink and wave. 

    “Kelly, you look bewitching as always. Is Brendan relieving someone, Winchell, I hope, of his ill-gotten gains? I could use some help myself. Believe it or not, the hateful tube is costing me customers. Even the thoroughbreds are rotting their minds.” Then, in an effortless segue, and looking at Kate, “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your fresh-faced friends.”

    Kate, in a bulls-eye send-up of a young, smiling and breathless Katherine Hepburn, asked, “What time do you open for breakfast Mister Billingsley?” She dragged the last syllable of his last name about three yards.

    Billingsley nearly rolled on the floor and when he recovered, asked Kelly, “Where did you find Kate Junior, cheekbones and all?” Brendan appeared and Billingsley picked his pocket until distracted by incoming money. He departed cooing having waved off the check.

    After Kelly told Brendan the Hepburn-breakfast story, he said, “That was a classic put-on you gave Sherman, Kate. People rarely get him where he lives. He does have a sense of humor behind all that charade, although Sherman usually laughs only at his own jokes. And he liked the line so much he picked up the check. That’s a first, too. If you’ll walk us to the Waldorf, I’ll buy a nightcap at Peacock Alley. There’s a standout piano player."

    Matt quietly asked Kate, “Are you ready for this?"

    “I’m ready for anything.”

(To be continued in Part Four: The Waldorf Astoria; drinks with NJ; the fantasy cab.)

Richard J. Noyes, former Associate Director, Center for Advanced Engineering Study, Massachusetts Institute of Technology is a consultant to public and private sector organizations.

Noyes is the co-author with Pamela J. Robertson of Larceny of Love, a provocative print and eBook novel that traces the interwoven careers of three men in jeopardy (one of whom is a professional pitcher who experiences sudden, extreme, unexplained, career-threatening wildness) and the unforgettable women in their lives.   http://amzn.to/u0LtvX                                http://bit.ly/upp8hX  (Nook)     http://bit.ly/v1qaGe  (Google e-Books)

“Whenever dramatic storytelling about people you like is created around business, sports and film, I'm a happy reader. I'm sure you will be as well.”  –Kevin Marcus, Sotheby Vice President      

Another recent print and eBook by Richard Noyes and Pamela Robertson: Guts in the Clutch: 77 Legendary Triumphs, Heartbreaks, and Wild Finishes in 12 Sports, with a Foreword by Drew Olson of ESPN.   http://gutsintheclutch.com/

“The best compilation of fascinating sports stories I have read.” -David Houle, Emmy and Peabody Award-winning producer of documentaries on Hank Aaron and the Harlem Globetrotters.

           

           

NEW YORK STORIES OF THE FIFTIES: PART TWO

In an earlier story on James Michael Curley we met Kate and Matt Jameson, a couple in their early 20’s. We also met Kate’s aunt and uncle, Kelly and Brendan McGrath, a sophisticated, successful and well-connected couple in their late 40’s. As we saw, Kelly and Brendan were mentors and role models.

    The McGrath’s lived in and worked out of Boston, but spent considerable time out of town, especially in New York, Chicago and L.A. They had urgent business in Manhattan; and since it was the Jameson’s first anniversary, they asked them along to check out the nightlife.

    The story that follows is part two of four episodes experienced on one not-soon-forgotten night in mid-1950’s Manhattan. A few years back, one of my relatives, a skilled diarist, showed me the stories to use as I wished. They are a poignant look at New York nightlife from a bygone era. Adaptation of style is limited; the story lines as originally written remain the same.

    Toots Shor spotted Kelly and lumbered toward her, broad face grinning, arms wide like a gorilla on hind legs. He flashed Brendan a wink as he sized up Kate. She slid her shoulder behind Matt while murmuring, “If that big ape tries to maul me, I’ll sock him in the jaw.”

    Matt said, “Good thirties-movie hatcheck girl.”

    Partially overhearing, Toots said, “We don’t have a hat chick, but we do have a hatcheck boy.” They roared right along with him, Then, with a head jerk to the right, “Joe’s back there.”

    Brendan nodded, and Toots led them past the packed and noisy bar to a quieter room. And there sat Joltin’ Joe alone with a drink and cigarette. Years later, Kate and Matt saw a photograph of DiMaggio on the wall of Charlie O’s, a midtown restaurant. He sat in the center of a group and was looking into the camera. The caption read: “I drink to make other people interesting.”

    DiMaggio greeted Brendan and Kelly fondly and invited them to join him. After introductions and a round of drinks, DiMaggio’s first comment was, “So, Brendan, I see Ted’s still hitting.”

    “About as good as ever, amazing at his age.”

    Then DiMaggio asked, “Have you seen Marilyn?”

    Kelly answered, “No, is she in town?”

    Studying again at the Actor’s Studio; I heard she read or played Blanche in Streetcar, don’t know how it went.”

    “I’ll bet she was good,” Kelly said. “I can see her in the role. A little young but has the right tools. I think she’s vastly underrated and will grow into a fine dramatic actress given the right parts.”

    DiMaggio looked down, stirred his drink, asked Mac about someone we didn’t know, and they talked quietly for a few minutes. Under the clinking of arriving drinks, Kate said to Kelly, “I think I’m in love with Joe DiMaggio.”

    Kelly, in a flawless, cello-voiced Eve Arden take-off said, “Eat your heart out, honey, I got my bid in first.”        

     Kate’s laughter swung the conversation back to the group. Matt asked DiMaggio if he missed playing. Joe smiled and said, “Yes, but I sure don’t miss the travel.”

    Kate said, “I saw you hit a line-drive homer into the center field bleachers at Fenway in ’48. It bounced back onto the field.”

    “You had to hit them up there so Dom couldn’t catch them. I remember that one, off Denny Galehouse, I think. Joe McCarthy beefed that it didn’t go in.”

    Kate said, “It just cleared the wall and cracked off a seat. I was a few rows away.”

    Matt said, “I saw a game in the ’49 series at Fenway when you came out of the hospital and had four homers and a bunch of RBI’s in three games. With that layoff, how did you time great fastballs like McDermott’s and Parnell’s?” 

    “Luck, and I probably kept some timing watching games on TV.”

    Mac said, “Muscle memory that ended the Red Sox season.”

    DiMaggio grinned and said, “Something like that. A few fat pitches didn’t hurt either.”

    The waiter handed DiMaggio a message. After he glanced at it, Brendan said, “We’ve got to get going, Joe.” DiMaggio asked Kelly and Brendan to give him advance notice next time since he wanted to have a meal with them.

    DiMaggio’s handshake with Kate was a little long for Matt’s taste. Kate conceded later that it was her hanging onto DiMaggio’s hand. “I thought your heart belonged to Ted Williams.” 

    “There’s something about New York, I could get used to this.” They continued their stroll . . .

           

(To be continued in Part Three: Stork Club; Sherman Billingsley; Walter Winchell.)

Richard J. Noyes, former Associate Director, Center for Advanced Engineering Study, Massachusetts Institute of Technology is a consultant to public and private sector organizations.

Noyes is the co-author with Pamela J. Robertson of Larceny of Love, a provocative print and eBook novel that traces the interwoven careers of three men in jeopardy (one of whom is a professional pitcher who experiences sudden, extreme, unexplained, career-threatening wildness) and the unforgettable women in their lives.   http://amzn.to/u0LtvX                                http://bit.ly/upp8hX  (Nook)     http://bit.ly/v1qaGe  (Google e-Books)

“Whenever dramatic storytelling about people you like is created around business, sports and film, I'm a happy reader. I'm sure you will be as well.”  –Kevin Marcus, Sotheby Vice President      

Another recent print and eBook by Richard Noyes and Pamela Robertson: Guts in the Clutch: 77 Legendary Triumphs, Heartbreaks, and Wild Finishes in 12 Sports, with a Foreword by Drew Olson of ESPN.   http://gutsintheclutch.com/

“The best compilation of fascinating sports stories I have read.” -David Houle, Emmy and Peabody Award-winning producer of documentaries on Hank Aaron and the Harlem Globetrotters.

           

           

           

New York Stories of the Fifties: Part One

NEW YORK STORIES OF THE FIFTIES: PART ONE

The Algonquin; the St. James Theater; Sardi’s

In an earlier story on James Michael Curley, we met Kate and Matt Jameson, a couple in their early 20’s. We also met Kate’s aunt and uncle, Kelly and Brendan McGrath, a sophisticated, successful and well-connected couple in their late 40’s. As we saw, Kelly and Brendan were mentors and role models.

    The McGrath’s lived in and worked out of Boston, but spent considerable time out of town, especially in New York, Chicago and L.A. They had urgent business in Manhattan; and since it was the Jameson’s first anniversary, they asked them along to check out the nightlife.

    The story that follows is part one of four episodes experienced on one not-soon-forgotten night in mid-1950’s Manhattan. A few years back, one of my relatives, a skilled diarist, showed me the stories to use as I wished. They are a poignant look at New York nightlife from a bygone era. Adaptation of style is limited; the story lines as originally written remain the same.

Kate and Matt schlepped their mismatched suitcases up out of Grand Central and down 44^th Street. They checked in at the antique desk and creaked up six floors in the ancient elevator. Despite the brick-wall view and cot-sized bed, the room was cozy and the price was right. They were off to a good start in Gotham.

    They met Kelly and Brendan in the lobby at seven. Kelly summoned a white-aproned waiter by smacking a service bell fastened to the oak table. The ring also brought out the storied Algonquin marmalade cat who got a good stroking from Kate. They sat in overstuffed furniture sipping drinks and picking fancy nuts from a silver dish. A piano in an adjoining room tinkled show tunes while Kelly regaled them with witticisms from the fabled Algonquin round table of Dorothy Parker, et al: “Brevity is the soul of lingerie.” “Tallulah, your show is slipping,” and so on. 

    Kelly then spread on the table four, sixth row center-orchestra, tickets for the musical The Pajama Game. Brendan said, “It’s convenient you’re so well-linked, Kelly.”   

    "George owed me one, so I collected.” 

     On the way out, Kelly and Brendan were stopped by people at a nearby table. While they waited near the hotel entrance, Kate said, “I shouldn’t have done it, but last month when we were at Kelly and Brendan’s their appointment book was open near the telephone. While dialing a call, my eyes drifted helplessly. Not being nosy, just curious you understand I peeked. You should have seen the names, the meetings: George Abbott, who’s directing The Pajama Game, Lillian Hellman, Billy Rose, Averell Harriman. These two operate in the rarefied zones. As Margo Channing said, ‘Fasten your seat belts, this is going to be a bumpy night.’ Summon your savoir faire, Matt, this is New York headfirst.”

    “Charm I can trot out. It’s the loot that has me worried. That round of drinks could have paid for the train tickets.”

    Kate breathed, “Oh well, it’s only money.”       

    “Listen to Lady Astor.”

    “Hey, we’re paying for real estate, plus the bowl of nuts, the cat entering on cue. Ambience ain’t cheap in this neck of the woods.”  

    “Right, you need a shoe box full of greenbacks. By the way, what’s The Pajama Game about, fooling around?”

“Sorry, no beds, it’s about life in a pajama factory.”

“Sounds boring.”

“I read in the Times that it’s a smash, good numbers and dancing. That song ‘Hey There’ we heard on the radio is in it."

The four walked down 44^th Street to the St. James Theater. The lobby was a swirl of fur-coated women on the arms of big butter-and-egg men. They pressed through to the good seats, opened their playbills and saw a notice stapled inside that stand-in Shirley Maclaine would play the female lead that night. People groaned and groused, but that ceased when Shirley appeared with her palpable talent, impish grin and the longest legs until the New York Motown lawyer gave them first-row tickets to Pippin twenty years later with lead dancer Anne Reinking front and center stage. (Holly wood discovered Shirley Maclaine in The Pajama Game and Jill Clayburgh through her role in Pippin.)

Eddie Foy Jr., in a sort of stage manager role, capered and sang patterish songs displaying all the loosey-goosey nonchalance that comes from growing up in vaudeville. Kelly said that John Raitt, the male lead, debuted on Broadway at age nineteen as Billy Bigelow in Carousel. If the St. James’ doors were open on this night, passers-by would have heard Raitt’s sonorous, unamplified voice over the city din and all the way down Shubert Alley.

The dancers’ swivel-hipped body attitudes in the “Steam Heat” and "Hernando’s Hideaway” numbers was like they had never seen before. Long after, they learned that Bob Fosse had been the choreographer and also one of the dancers. Later in his career, Fosse directed Pippin among other hits.

Dinner reservations next door at Sardi’s followed the curtain. The maitre d’ recognized Kelly and Brendan with head cock, arched eyebrow, flourish of menus and blandishments. After the performance, they were led to a choice banquette on the left side of the room. Vincent Sardi came by to kiss Kelly’s cheek and whisper a message in Brendan’s ear.

Kelly pointed out the caricatures of show people lining the walls: Alfred Drake in Kismet ; Rosalind Russell in Wonderful Town; Ethel Waters in Member of the Wedding; Tom Ewell in The Seven-Year Itch; Rex Harrison and Lilli Palmer in Bell, Book and Candle; Gertrude Lawrence and Yul Brynner in The King and I.

Kate and Matt were nose deep in their menus when Brendan suggested that he knew the house specialties and had a good idea of what they all liked. Matt and Kate jumped at that offer. Kelly said, “You can order anything you want for me, Brendan, just as long as it’s shad roe.” The junior members wolfed their meals while Brendan and Kelly carried the conversation. Brendan talked while eating at least as well as Spencer Tracy.

As they strolled up 6^th Avenue walking off the gluttony, Brendan said to Kelly, “I wonder what Toots is up to? Joe may be there.”

Kate mouthed to Matt, “Who’s Toots? Who’s Joe?” Matt shrugged.

(To be continued in Part Two: Toots Shor; Joe DiMaggio.))

Richard J. Noyes, former Associate Director, Center for Advanced Engineering Study, Massachusetts Institute of Technology is a consultant to public and private sector organizations.

Noyes is the co-author with Pamela J. Robertson of Larceny of Love, a provocative print and eBook novel that traces the interwoven careers of three men in jeopardy (one of whom is a professional pitcher who experiences sudden, extreme, unexplained, career-threatening wildness) and the unforgettable women in their lives.   http://amzn.to/u0LtvX                                http://bit.ly/upp8hX  (Nook)      

http://bit.ly/v1qaGe  (Google e-Books)

“Whenever dramatic storytelling about people you like is created around business, sports and film, I'm a happy reader. I'm sure you will be as well.”  –Kevin Marcus, Sotheby Vice President      

Another recent print and eBook by Richard Noyes and Pamela Robertson: Guts in the Clutch: 77 Legendary Triumphs, Heartbreaks, and Wild Finishes in 12 Sports, with a Foreword by Drew Olson of ESPN.   http://gutsintheclutch.com/

“The best compilation of fascinating sports stories I have read.” -David Houle, Emmy and Peabody Award-winning producer of documentaries on Hank Aaron and the Harlem Globetrotters.