Paul Lynde - A Biography (3 page)

He took a seat at the table set up for him and began signing playbills and brochures with his “love and laughter always.” He was joking with the people and patiently answered all their questions, but with a little distance. Sometimes he was very serious and other times he would answer with a sarcastic funny remark. His wit came out with such lightning speed that he had the crowds falling over with laughter.

When the last person left, I took out two photos of Paul and me from my purse that were taken at his show at Westbury Music Fair, where he had kissed me so passionately. I asked him to sign them. He wrote:
To Cathy, My #1 Fan, My #1 Friend.
I was so touched by his words, but somehow, I was also a little sad.

Paul told Barbara and me to follow him backstage to his dressing room. He introduced us to his costar, Liz Allen, and some other members of the cast. One cast member caught Barbara’s eye, who everyone called “Gunk” for some reason, and he hung out with us. Paul told Liz that it was my birthday and we were going to go out dancing.

Paul, Liz, and one of the theater managers got into the limo. Barbara, Gunk, and I followed them to a club nearby. Paul and I walked in together arm in arm. When the crowd inside saw that it was Paul Lynde walking into the club, they went wild. Swarms of fans mobbed him. He loved it and held his head high, snickering along with his famous laugh. I felt like I was walking on the red carpet. One guy in his twenties, who had thick curly blonde hair, literally fell at his feet worshiping him. Paul was polite and tried to keep walking, but the guy wrapped his arms around Paul’s leg and wouldn’t let go. He was telling Paul how much he loved him. Paul smiled politely and took a step forward, but the beach-boy-type guy held on. As Paul tried to walk, the guy was now was being dragged on his stomach. After a few more steps, his friends took hold of him and peeled him off of the star.

The club was mostly men. This was new to me, but I didn’t care, I was with Paul Lynde, and I held on tighter to my man. Paul found a table and a Latin-looking waiter arrived. Paul ordered drinks, and the waiter returned so quickly that there was no doubt Paul was king. The music was thriving with great disco tunes. “Let’s dance,” I said to Paul, and the people parted the way to give us room. It was my first time dancing with the star. He took my hand and twirled me around, did a few hustle steps, and would say things to make me laugh. The fifty-two-year-old had lots of energy, and I was on cloud nine.

A few men came up to us while we danced, trying to cut in, I wasn’t sure if they wanted to dance with me or Paul, but the star politely told them he was dancing with me tonight. Later, others approached him, offering whiffs of poppers — also known as butyl nitrate, which was brought over the counter and gave a quick head rush when inhaled. It seemed to be quite popular among the dancers.

The night flew by so fast, and then our waiter stopped by our table again. It was last call, and it was nearly 2 a.m. I was a nervous wreck trying to figure out how the night would end. I wondered where he would take me after this and how much more romantic the night would get. Then the lights flickered, signaling the club was closed. Paul stood up from the table as Liz said good night to us. Then he gave me a kiss, and said, “Good night, Cathy, I will see you tomorrow at the show. Come backstage when it’s over.” My face fell, as I watched Paul walk out with our waiter.

I was devastated. I grabbed Barbara, and we headed back to our hotel where I cried myself to sleep. The next afternoon, Gunk had invited us over to his hotel to hang out by the pool with him and some other cast members before the show. One of the cast members asked Barbara why I was upset. He couldn’t understand why I liked Paul so much and said that Paul got really nasty when he drank, and didn’t I know he was gay?

When Barbara told me this, I was angry, and I said, “But he kissed me — a real kiss. He sang, ‘I love you,’ to me, and remember how his other bodyguard said to me, ‘Don’t you see what you do to him?’ I must mean something to him, otherwise why am I in his life?”

That evening, Barbara and I went to Paul’s dressing room after the show. Paul could see I was upset with him. Liz was there and a few other people from the cast. Paul kept asking Barbara, “Where’s G-u-u-u-u-nk, Babs?” making everyone laugh at the way he said his name. I kept my attitude until he told everyone in the room how the waiter from the club stole his watch. Then he added, “I know
my
Cathy would never do that.”

Somehow, this made me feel better. “Let’s go back to the club again,” Paul suggested.

As the two of us walked quietly into the club, Paul said to me, “I like your shoes.”

“Would you like to borrow them?” I asked in my best sarcasm.

“Smart ass,” he responded with a side nod of this head. That seemed to ease the tension between us. We sat at the same table as we had the night before. We had a different waiter tonight — I was relieved. Paul became very quiet. He did not talk much or want to dance tonight.

When the DJ announced the last song for the night, I leaned over and said, “Come on Paul it’s the last song, please dance with me…”

I heard the first note of Donna Summer’s
Last Dance
and Paul stood up, he took my hand, and we slow danced. He held me tight as we danced cheek-to-cheek, and I leaned my head on his shoulder. I was in heaven, and I didn’t want the song to end.

The club lights were turned up and we headed out to the limo. It was the last night in town for Barbara and I. The driver dropped us off at Chrysler Hall where we had our car. Paul helped me out of the limo, and I reached up and put my arms around his neck and gave him a long kiss.

I watched the limo drive away.