Hold the Roses (24 page)

Re, sivigep.'s copse odes

While I was doing Top Banana eight times a week, my throat began getting
very sore and I could hardly talk, much less sing. I couldn't take a day off to
rest my throat because my understudy didn't know the part. It finally got
so bad that I went to a doctor in New York. He was known as a good throat
man.

The doctor said that I had nodes on my vocal chords. Nodes are like
warts on the vocal chords for ill use of them. Every time you say or sing
anything, your vocal chords rub together. If there are nodes on them they
can't meet, and air passes through and it sounds like you have sore throat.

I told the producers that I had to be operated on and would have to
be quiet for four weeks. They got Audrey Meadows to work the show for
four weeks. She watched the show a few times and I showed her as much as
I could for the part, like the movements and so on. She did a great job and
we became good friends. When Audrey was ready, I went home for Christmas-and a node operation.

It's scary to know that they're going to cut into your throat, but of
course I was knocked out the whole time. I woke up in the hospital room.
My Bobby was there and said, "Say something."

The doctor was there and said, "Say something."

I couldn't-I was afraid to say anything. They assured me that everything was fine and I should be as good as new in a month. No talking, not
even whispering. I had to write everything down. As long as I was home, I
didn't mind. Being home for Christmas made me very happy.

The month flew by. I went to the doctor to make sure everything was fine and I finally spoke a word or two. It was so clear, it didn't even sound
like me. Phil had been calling every week to see how I was and when I
could come back. He said the duet hadn't stopped the show since I left. I
loved him for saying that.

So in five weeks, I went back to New York and the show. The first
night we did the duet, it stopped the show and Phil hit me on the rear and
said as we were going into the wings, "Welcome home, baby. I missed

So we were back to visits from Bobby every other week and again he
brought Noop, which made me happy and my mother was in her glory
again. Of course, Phil had to keep his boxer shorts on because Noop would
just walk into his dressing room-unannounced!

The show was going great. Everything was running smoothly until
Mike Sloan, the producer, came in one day and said they were closing in a
couple of months and going on the road. Did I want to go on the road?

I said, "How much more in salary?"

He said, "Fifty bucks."

I said, "Are you kidding? Fifty bucks more for the road? Hotels, eating out all the time....No way! I'd rather go home."

He said, "Will you do the show until we find someone?"

I said, "Okay, but it will cost you! I want two first-class fares to
California."

He said, "Okay."

So I went on with the show. They had Gale Robbins, a Hollywood
actress, come in and watch the show. After watching three performances,
she said she couldn't do it and went back to California. They again asked
me to stay on. I think I stayed an extra three months (with bonus money
every two weeks) until they found Kaye Ballard, who took the part on the
road.

One day I got a call from Warner Bros. A Mr. Lou Edelman said they
were casting The Jazz Singer with Danny Thomas and that they wanted to
see me. Could I come down that afternoon?

It was about twenty minutes from the house, but I said, "I could be
there in an hour." (Let 'em wait!) Mr. Edelman met me at the gate to
Warner's. They parked my car. I thought, Wow! That's service. I thought
Doris Day was set to play the lead and they wanted me for the girlfriend,
but no-they wanted me for the lead! I couldn't believe it. I went into
Michael Curtiz's office. He was going to direct.

We shook hands and he said, "I understand you're very good."

I said, "I just finished a Broadway show called Top Banana, and I've
been in show business since I was three, so maybe I know a little."

He said, "We'll make a test."

I said, "Fine, wonderful."

He gave me a script about forty pages long.

He said, "We'll do a song, a comedy scene and a dramatic scene."

I said, "Great."

After I finished, he said, "We'll call you." I'm still waiting for that
call. I never knew what happened or why, but Peggy Lee got the part.

Meanwhile, I got a new TV agent and started from the beginning all
over again. Nobody had heard of Rose Marie, the actress. They wanted me
to add a last name-and I had a good one, Rose Marie Guy.

I said "No, I've used just Rose Marie and I don't intend to change it."

Well, this TV agent named Jim Maloney was getting me a lot of
shows. I did The Virginian, with Joan Collins. She's a helluva gal and we
got along great.

We did this scene with a horse and buggy. She was scared stiff.

I said, "What's the matter?"

She said, "I'm deathly afraid of horses and they know it." We had a
great crew who held on to the horses until we needed to use them, but
every time they let go, she would jump a mile and we couldn't get the
scene.

I said, "For God's sake, why are you doing this show? You know it's a
Western and it's all horses."

She looked at me and said honestly, "It's such a good part."

Jim Maloney called me one day and said, "I'm sending over a script
for Heinz Playhouse. You can do a Southern accent, can't you?"

I said, "Sure." That's what I liked about Jim-he'd get the part then
ask if I could do it. Ride horses, accents-I said yes to everything. He told
me that this was a comedy. The script arrived and it was anything but
funny. It was all about a woman who has eight kids, one of them living in
the stable because she's blind. "Oh," I said, "Very funny. I can hear the
laughs now." Her sister loses her son in an accident and she can't have
anymore children, so she wants to take the blind kid and pay for it! To help
me out, I said to myself, Ah, the people will die laughing with this show.

I called Jim and said, "You sent me the wrong script."

He said, "Is it called A Little Care?

I said, "Yes, but it's not a comedy, it's a heartbreaker."

He said, "The director wants it played for comedy."

"Oh great! The director must be a little nuts too!"

An appointment was made to meet the director, Boris Segal. In I
walked the next day to meet Mr. Segal.

I threw down the script and said, "You want to play this for comedy?
I think you're out of your mind."

He said, "If you play it straight, the audience will hate you. If you
play it as a comedy, they have to feel sorry for you because you think you're
doing the best thing for the little blind girl."

My mouth fell open. He was right. I said, "I'm sorry. I didn't see it
that way, but you're right."

He said, "Always look at a part from a dramatic view and from a
comedy view. If you can give it a comedic reading, always go for the comedy. It's harder, but it always works."

I have never forgotten that. A few years later, I saw him at a party at
Lorne Green's house and he said, "I understand you do comedy and very
well, I hear."

I said, "Ah, yes." (I was doing The Dick Van Dyke Show by then.)

He said, "It's funny, I only know you as a fine dramatic actress."

I was doing a lot of guest shots: Jim Bowie, D.A. c Man, and Adam12, thanks to Jack Webb. I did an M Squad with Lee Marvin, who taught
me about my "light" on the set: "Always look for your light and don't let
anyone stay in the way of that light!" He was a dream to work with, and he
taught me a lot of tricks. You can never learn enough!

One day I saw Dick Wesson in a grocery store. He and his brother
did a comedy act and we had worked together in theaters and clubs. I
knew he was on The Bob Cummings Show and also writing it.

I said, "Write me a part. I'd love to do the show."

He said, "Okay," and in about three weeks I got a call for The Bob
Cummings Show. I played Martha, one of the office girls who was always
looking for a guy. I did that show for three years. Dear Paul Henning was
the producer and head writer. What a brilliant man. It was a very happy set
to work on. My part grew bigger each week and then I'd be off for two
weeks. But it was a recurring part, so I was thrilled.

And talk about learning-Bob Cummings was the ultimate teacher.
He used to say to me, "Too much Mickey Mouse," and I knew what he
meant: I was being too broad with my expression. After all, I was used to the stage, where you have to really project-even doing my act in clubs, you
overdo every action. So when I did that, Bob would say, "Mickey Mouse,"
meaning cut down the reaction, don't make it so broad. He showed me how
to fake a fall, how to keep my face toward camera, how to cut down on
actions. He was just wonderful to me and I loved the three years I worked on
the show. I worked with some great people during those years: Paul Henning
and his wife; Rosemary DeCamp; and Ann B. Davis, to name a few.

When The Bob Cummings Show went off the air, I did a year of My
Sister Eileen, which was written by Dick Wesson, bless his heart. In between these shows, I did my club act. I got a call from Jack Goldman from
Florida. He was now connected with the Riviera in Vegas and wanted me
to play the hotel with Jeff Chandler. The Riviera had opened with Liberace,
and Jeff Chandler was the second star to play there. I told Jack I would
have to let him know. I called the Flamingo and talked to Moe Sedgeway.
I had always played the Flamingo, and I didn't want them to think I would
just go over to some other hotel without their permission. I had no contract with them, but they had kept me busy working Reno and Tahoe. I
didn't want to get in bad with "the boys"!

I told Mr. Sedgeway that I had been offered the Riviera for four weeks.

He said, "How much are they paying you?"

I said, "Twenty-seven hundred and fifty dollars."

He said, "Okay, take it."

I said, "Are you sure? Is it all right? I still want to play the Flamingo."

He said, "It's all right, but I'm glad you called. Play the date and
thanks for calling." Whew.'

I had played Vegas a lot, and since this was another hotel, I got some
new gowns made by Lloyd Lambert. He made most of the costumes for
the other hotels, and he was a genius. He made my gowns until he passed
away in 1992. I needed a new piano player, and Bobby found one for me.
He called Dave Klein, who said that a new guy from Florida was looking
for work, and that he seemed to be pretty good. His name? Buddy Freed.

Buddy and I stayed together for about eight years and he became one
of our closest friends. I had some new comedy material written for me by
Morey Amsterdam. He knew just what to write for me, and of course, I
had George Wyle make my new arrangements. George and I had been
together for many years. I had met him through Phil Silvers. He wrote a
lot of material for me as well as doing my arrangements. Buddy came over
to rehearse and we were ready to go to Vegas.

With Bobby, showing off our matching suits

Jeff Chandler was a great guy, but he was no singer. He put together
an act and we opened at the Riviera. He came with a conductor, piano
player, light man, press agent, and manager. None of it helped. He had
subbed for Sammy Davis Jr. when Sammy was in a serious car accident
which caused the loss of his eye. Sammy was working at the Macombo and
they asked Jeff to sub for him. Anyone who goes on for an ailing fellow
performer is always a hit. Jeff was a good friend of Sammy's, and he loved
to sing. Everybody raved about Jeff's singing, but let's face it: He really
didn't sing very well. He definitely had the guts to open in Vegas. I love to
dance, but I can't do Swan Lake, and certainly wouldn't try it in Vegas. Jeff
did the soliloquy from Carousel and a parody on Davy Crockett. It was
okay, but it didn't get a standing ovation.

I was billed as "Extra Added Attraction," and I did very well. Danny
Thomas and his wife came to see the show, as did Sheldon Leonard and his
wife.

After the show, I sat with them and Sheldon said, "Don't you ever bomb?"

I said, "Not if I can help it."

Jeff left after three and a half weeks. He had to get back and finish a
picture, so I was in the headline spot for a week. Imagine headlining in
Vegas! It was a great feeling, and to top it off, when I was done with the gig,
all of the waiters and waitresses chipped in and threw a party for me. They
gave me a menu with all of their names on it that said I was their favorite
star.

That's rare, but to me it was a big moment in my career!