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Above, a stripteuse brings a lawsuit alleging botched plastic surgery -- on her neck. As if you can see her neck in this photo.
At left, it's divorce No. 2 for Jack Webb, this time from actress Dorothy Towne ... Mourners bid farewell to Ronald Colman, who receives a 14-minute service at All Saints by the Sea Episcopal Church in Montecito, Calif. ... And we have a visually stunning map of commuting times in Los Angeles. Must be the influence of rock 'n' roll on L.A. radio stations. Because of the new freeways, downtown is within a 30-minute drive anywhere in Los Angeles County -- at least in off hours, The Times says.
May 8, 1958: Disc jockey Alan Freed is charged with "inciting the unlawful destruction of property" during a riot that broke out at a rock 'n' roll concert at the Boston Arena.
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Above, Thelma Todd's famous (or notorious) Inn ... Below, George Sakalis says he was offered $3,000 to keep his mouth shut in the trial of Police Capt. Earle Kynette in the Harry Raymond bombing ... Jackie Coogan says he brought a lawsuit against his mother and stepfather over his earnings as a childhood actor because his stepfather was going to cash a $100,000 life insurance policy for $7,500 ... Mussolini reportedly tells Hitler, during the Fuehrer's visit to Rome, that he has nothing to gain from a military pact with Germany. On the jump, George Farley goes on trial on charges of killing Deputy City Marshals Leon W. Romer and T. Dwight Crittenden when they tried to serve an eviction notice. Farly, 54, an African American, has entered dual pleas of not guilty and not guilty by reason of insanity.
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April 17, 1958
Below, we have Paul Coates and his old pal from Palo Alto, Parkey Sharkey ... But what's this hidden in the ads for the burlesque houses? The Colony Club, Western and 149th Street, has the L.A. Dodgerettes! ... Then again, there's "Johni Dillinger" a.k.a. "Public Anatomy No. 1," at the Tiffany Club, 3260 W. 8th ... And note the comic at the Lake Club: Bert Henry. Henry did a bunch of "party records" for Fax Records ("Bert Henry in the Raw," "Bert Henry at the Hungry Thigh") before the head of the company, William H. Door, and his girlfriend were killed in a very nasty way in November 1963. Fax also released a disc titled "Sex Is My Business," which purported to be interviews with prostitutes. Most of the Fax discs turn up on EBay if you're patient. If anyone knows whatever became of Bert Henry, drop me a note.
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Mansfield and Mickey Hargitay, 1958-1964? (It's unclear if a 1963 divorce in Juarez was recognized in the U.S.) She married Matt (Thomas Vitale Ottaviano) Cimber in 1964 and filed for divorce in 1966. The final decree was pending when Mansfield died in a 1967 car crash outside New Orleans, along with attorney Sam Brody and driver Ronnie Harrison. Mickey Jr., Mariska and Zoltan Hargitay (who had been mauled by a lion at Jungleland) survived the crash. She was married to Paul Mansfield from 1950 to 1957.
Nov. 14, 1957
I'm an old-fashioned boy. I don't like changes.
That's why i was more than slightly disturbed at the recent rumbles that Ciro's might close forever.
Such a thing, if it happened, would be a catastrophe on the Sunset Strip. It would end a damned colorful era of Hollywood life.
Ciro's is a landmark.
It's pudgy boniface, Herman Hover, nursed it into one of the most famous cabarets in the world.
Within its plush, velvet walls, every top star has either performed, got tight or had a fistfight.
(Hover had a standing rule that any male movie star was entitled to two
fights at Ciro's. But he was barred after the third time.).
The cafe was the proving ground for Kay Thompson, Nat Cole, Mitzi Gaynor, Sammy Davis Jr. and Liberace.
Its star attractions have included Peggy Lee, Martin and Lewis, Danny
Thomas, Xavier Cugat, Carmen Cavallaro, Veloz and Yolanda, Joe E. Lewis
and the indestructible Sophie Tucker.
It's been the scene of lavish parties. The setting for Darryl Zanuck's historic trip on a flying trapeze.
Ciro's cigarette girls have included a future Mrs. Tommy Manville, a
future Mrs. Huntington Hartford Jr. and the present wife of Sir Cedric
Hardwicke.
Hover himself has been a curiously colorful addition to his own room. A
graduate of Columbia Law School, he took his degree, passed the bar and
promptly got a job as a chorus boy in Broadway musicals.
After that, he worked as an attorney for the federal government and later as an executive of the Earl Carroll enterprises.
But he's a buck-and-wing dancer at heart.
No act can be sure of having their option picked up unless they invite
him on stage to dance at least once during their appearance.
"I can dance as well as Fred Astaire for a couple of minutes," he assured me yesterday.
So it's been rather sad to see Ciro's get clobbered in recent months. But fortunately, Hover is a showman who bounces back.
Instead of closing, as the rumors have had it, he's going strong the
other way. Next month he'll bring in the entire Katherine Dunham
troupe, which is maybe two short of a battalion of dancers.
On Nov. 22 he's presenting the complete Minsky revue with a company of 24.
And with that I can relax. It sounds like the good old days are
returning to that beloved scene of my childhood--the Sunset Strip.
[Note: Ciro's closed in early 1958. The exact date is a little unclear--lrh].
Nov. 7, 1957
Los Angeles
Here's a story that white Los Angeles will never see: An NAACP boycott
against Anheuser-Busch because it refused to hire African American
truck drivers, plant workers and office staff.
According to the California Eagle, a weekly serving the local African
American community, the NAACP was calling on 350,000 blacks in Los
Angeles to stop drinking Budweiser until the company ended its biased
hiring practices. African American owners of liquor stores and bars
were also urged to stop serving the beer.
The story noted that although blacks constituted 8.5% of the local
population, they accounted for 18% of the beer sold in Los Angeles. The
businesses taking part in the boycott represented about 2,000 cases of
Budweiser a month, the Eagle said.
The boycott was called after the Urban League failed to attain equality
in hiring despite years of efforts, the story said. The NAACP's labor
and industry committee had tried to confer with a West Coast
representative of the brewer, but was also unsuccessful.
According to William Pollard of the labor and industry committee, "It
is ridiculous that in their entire Los Angeles operations only two
Negroes are employed by Budweiser," the Eagle said.
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Oct. 13-23, 1957
Los Angeles
Woody and Eddy's should have been an easy job for two old pros just out
of the joint: Sit around and have a drink or two until the place closes
and nearly everybody has cleared out, pull the guns, make them open the
safe and take the money. Rough up anybody who gets brave.
Thomas Lee Barrington, 29, was living at 155 Bimini Place after being paroled from San Quentin seven weeks earlier. Harry B. Hancock, 50, 1414 E. 60th St.,
had been out of Folsom since March after spending 15 of the last 22
years in prison. Maybe they didn't know and maybe they didn't care, but
Barrington and Hancock weren't dealing with the San Marino Police
Department. Instead, the combination restaurant, bar and liquor store
at Huntington and San Gabriel was across the street in Los Angeles
County, under the jurisdiction of the Temple City substation.
Late in the evening, one of them slipped into the business' office and cut the
phone wires. They followed bartender Andrew Gillian and his wife,
Genevieve, into the parking lot, drew their guns and forced the couple
back into the bar to open the safe At that time, nearly everyone was
gone. The restaurant had closed hours earlier and the cooks were back
in the sleeping quarters. Bartender Lawrence McDonald was still inside,
as were waitress Georgia Gould and her mother, Mary, who worked in the
the hatcheck room.
"They were mean and they were tough," Genevieve Gillian said. "They really shoved us around."
In the confusion, one of the women slipped away and called the
Sheriff's Department from a pay phone outside the restaurant. While
Hancock took Andrew Gillian into the office to open the safe,
Barrington followed McDonald, who had tried to escape.
Andrew Gillian said he didn't know the combination and Hancock warned him: "If you don't open the safe, I'll kill you."
At the entrance to the bar, Barrington put his .45 to McDonald's back
and shot him just as the first police car arrived with Deputies Harold
S. Blevins and Charles E. Covington.
Barrington shot Blevins in the head, killing him instantly, and
Covington returned the gunfire, shooting five rounds, The Times said.
Barrington was dead when he hit the ground, but in the gunfight, he
shot Covington in the chest, with the bullet going through him and
coming out his back.
Hancock rushed to a window when he heard the gunfire, and his prisoners
fled. More deputies and the watch commander arrived, sealing off the
streets to capture Hancock. About 75 heavily armed officers surrounded
the restaurant, and on the assumption that Hancock was still inside
holding several hostages, shot teargas into the building.
The gas rousted the cooking staff from their sleeping quarters, but
failed to flush Hancock from the restaurant. He was finally found
hiding in a car parked in front of the liquor store. Deputies had to
restrain Andrew Gillian to keep him from attacking Hancock, the Mirror
said. "Let me at him!" Gillian yelled. "He hasn't got a gun now."
Hancock was sentenced to three life terms after being convicted of
murder, attempted murder, kidnapping for robbery, attempted robbery and
attempted burglary. I can find no further trace of him.
Blevins, who was survived by his wife, Barbara Anne, daughters Brenda
and Heidi, and his parents, was buried at Resurrection Cemetery after
services at All Saints Catholic Church attended by hundreds of police
officers.
"Minutes after her husband's casket was carried into the church, Mrs.
Barbara Anne Blevins, the deputy's widow, collapsed on the sidewalk as
she was being led from a car," The Times said. "A deputy lifted the
sobbing woman into his arms and carried her inside."
McDonald apparently recovered from his wounds. Covington and Blevins
were honored in a 1959 ceremony for LAPD officers and sheriff's
deputies who had been killed or wounded in the line of duty.
Woody and Eddy's, 3007 Huntington Blvd., is now the location of a strip mall that includes a Starbucks and Howe's market.
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Oct. 12, 1957
Burl Ives, who took off more than 40 pounds to play the part of the
viciously righteous father in "Desire Under the Elms,' was putting some
of it back on the other day at Frascati's and between bites took up the
slack on the three years since we last saw each other.
The word from Paramount is that Burl does a masterful job in the Eugene
O'Neill play. "I'm a heck of a villain," he confided with a booming
laugh.
Furthermore, it appears he'll be doing considerably more acting. He has been offered three important roles.
Despite his switch of emphasis from folk music to acting, Burl remains
the same hearty, uninhibited gentleman who gets a great kick out of
life.
His private passion is still boats. When he's in the East he lives
aboard the one that was reported this week as having gone aground in
New Jersey. "There was a 70-mile wind," he said, "but the men aboard
were all blue-water sailors." He can't figure what happened, not having
yet received a full account.
Since coming to Hollywood, Burl has acquired a shiny black 1934 Packard
phaeton Straight 8, a beautifully restored job with white leather
upholstery, red trim and pinstriping. You can't hardly get them like
that any more. I was curious about the name "Fosdick" neatly painted on
one door. Just a whim, he explained, then added, "Harry Emerson--not
Fearless."
What about folk music? It's as big as ever, he said, but in a different
way. It's no longer the sort of intellectual cult it used to be. It's
now accepted by people in all categories of society: businessmen,
professional men, housewives as well as devotees of pure Americana. In
a recent concert in Texas, he said, he broke the attendance record.
What's his feeling about being a big actor? It's nice work if you can
get it, he said, but it hasn't changed his way of life. He's still a
troubadour. For instance, he likes to go out at night and do a little
singing with friendly strangers.
And this is our thought for today--bearded Burl Ives, all 300 pounds of
him, guitar in hand, lumbering along the elegant Sunset Strip, where he
lives, looking in one bistro after another for convivial folk who might
like to join him in "Blue Tail Fly," "Barbara Allen" or "Jimmy Cracked
Corn"--and finding them.
KID STUFF -- Timmy
Deans, 3, is fascinated by all policemen. While his mother waited for a
signal to change, a motorcycle officer stopped alongside and Timmy,
enchanted, called out, "Hey, police, my mommy drive too fast. Give her
a tick!" The officer frowned fiercely, then smiled... A woman with two
little girls got on a bus on Catalina Island and the driver asked,
"Are they under 6?" The woman retorted menacingly, "Did you ask if my
girls are undersexed?"
THE PERIPATETIC
publicists are with us today. Al Hix, en route to Tripoli to do the
movie "No Time to Die," postcards from the island of Malta that he
asked for a Malta milk and the barmaid had to be dissuaded from taking
a poke at him... Jack Hirshberg writes from Munich, where Kirk Douglas
is making "The Vikings," that he forgot to put his pfennigs in a
parking meter and found a ticket under the windshield wiper. Seemed
like old times in Beverly Hills. But when he asked a nearby policeman
what to do about it, the officer wrote out a receipt, Jack handed him 2
marks--about 50 cents--and that was that.
ONLY IN L.A. -- A
man named Scotty gives his Pekingese half a Miltown when it has nervous
fits. Brings the Peke right out of it, he says... Civic Center cynics
were saying yesterday that it was very inconsiderate of Columbus to
have his birthday come this year on Saturday, already a holiday from
work.
FOOTNOTES -- An
attorney delivering an eloquent oration in an accident case in court
the other day had a distressing interruption. The bailiff fell asleep
and loudly snored... Agnes Moorehead, who created the classic role 14
years ago, will be doing "Sorry, Wrong Number" for the seventh time on
CBS radio's "Suspense" tomorrow... George T. Oussen, supervising the
smooth inaugural of Flying Tiger's nonstop freight service with a
43,000 payload, recalled the time in 1931 when another line started a
cargo service in Chicago and a live, crated pig got loose during the
loading and speaking ceremony, creating havoc, as the saying goes...
Mickey Grayson, maitre d' at the Park Wilshire Hotel, has a piece of a
$7 pool on which day of the week Sputnik will sputter out and
disappear.
Aug. 4, 1957
Oceanside
Box 7, Folders 216-229 of the Ben Hecht
archives at the Newberry Library in Chicago appear to contain whatever
was produced during the time Hecht worked with gangster Mickey Cohen on the
story of the mobster's life.
"It might be the basis for a top book," Hecht said. "It's exciting, unusual, frank and startling."
The
men began work in 1956 on a film to be produced by United Artists under
the title "The Mickey Cohen Story" or "The Poison Has Left Me,"
according to The Times, which noted that Hecht was working on "A Farewell to Arms" and had obligations to write two pictures for British film companies.
By the summer of 1957, Cohen had produced a 150-page manuscript that he showed to Hecht, who was staying in Oceanside.
Noting that Cohen had apparently dictated the manuscript, Hecht said: "He must
have done it himself. No one but Mickey uses words that way. It's a
goldmine of facts--I haven't seen so many facts since I was a newspaper
reporter. It has Mickey's indelible stamp."
Hecht dismissed any
speculation on the project, saying: "Mickey brought it to me and asked
me to read it and tell him what I thought of it. I don't know of any
plans he may have for it."
In truth, Hecht and Cohen worked on
the manuscript with some diligence. "I spent four days in Oceanside
with him and we got a lot done," Cohen said. There were so many
interruptions that Hecht suggested the two of them retreat to his villa
in Rome, but the federal government took a dim view of the former
mobster going to Italy, home of Lucky Luciano, Joe Adonis and other
deported gangsters.
"They seem to think maybe I'm going over there for something other than the reason I'm really going," Cohen said.
In
January 1958, Cohen went to Chicago to work with Hecht on the book.
Earlier that day, Cohen allegedly roughed up a waiter who spilled coffee
on him during an early morning gathering at the Villa Capri, 6735 Yucca St.,
as Frank Sinatra, Robert Mitchum and several others were celebrating
Sammy Davis Jr.'s opening appearance at the Moulin Rouge.
The
next month, Cohen said he had given up his flower shop to spend all of
his time with Hecht writing the movie version of his life.
The book was nearly finished by March and was
due out in the fall of 1958, at least according to Cohen. "It'll knock
the blocks off people," Cohen said as he left Los Angeles for Los Cocos
Hotel in La Paz, Mexico, to spend a week with Hecht on the project.
George
Bieber, Cohen's attorney, said a studio had offered $200,000
($1,433,056.75 USD 2006) and 80% of the profits but that Cohen wanted
$200,000 and 20% of the gross. Bieber also said the book would bring
Cohen about $500,000 to $750,000 and that 50,000 copies had already
been ordered.
And then everything went off the rails, as happens so often in Hollywood.
In
September 1958, the Saturday Evening Post began a four-part series
titled "Mickey Cohen: The Private Life of a Hood" by freelance writer
Dean Jennings. In October 1958, Cohen sued Curtis Publishing, the
parent company of the Saturday Evening Post, saying that the series
ruined any possibility of publishing his book, but he dropped the suit
in December 1958.
It's clear from testimony in Cohen's 1961
tax evasion trial that he was selling interest in the book. Nightclub
owner Bernard "Happy" Koomer said he gave Cohen $15,000 in May 1957 for
a 10% share. Koomer testified that he stopped payment on several checks
and that when he met Cohen, the gangster tore up the checks, threw the
pieces in Koomer's face and seized a diamond ring given to Koomer as
security. It is interesting to speculate that the book may have been far more
profitable if it remained unpublished--rather like "The Producers."
Apparently whatever remains of the Cohen project is in the 94 cubic feet of
material in the Hecht archives in Chicago. There's a good dissertation
in there for some historian, I guarantee you.
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June 28, 1957
Los Angeles
It's a tough life for orchestra wives. Consider the case of Joy
Windsor, bandleader Charlie Barnet's 10th wife. In May, Barnet had
assured her that his days of touring were over. "I was on the road a
lot in the old days," he said. "One-night stands. The way a musician
travels on the road is tired, dirty and drunk. Doesn't make for a good
marriage."
"The band business has changed now. There's not much road any more.... You don't have those one-night stands."
Maybe the band business had changed, but Barnet hadn't. Windsor's
complaints echoed those of his previous wife Betty Reilly, who said
Barnet left her for days at a time and refused to tell her where he had
been.
In fact, Barnet had been married so often that even The Times lost
count, calling Windsor Barnet's ninth wife in some stories and 10th
wife in others.
The wives of Charlie Barnet, with his comments, as listed in 1955:
- A showgirl--It lasted about eight months.
- A singer--Artie Shaw was the best man. "We had a horrible fight after the ceremony and she went her way and I went mine."
- A showgirl--Her divorce wasn't final, so the marriage was annulled.
- A singer--"It lasted a couple of years."
- An actress. "She was my favorite. We were married about six years."
- "Just a plain li'l ol' gal. It only lasted a week."
 A singer--"A couple of years."- An artist--"My divorce from No. 7 wasn't final, so that one was annulled too."
Among Barnet's wives are:
- Rita Merritt (1947), probably wife No. 5.
- Harriet C. Barnet
- Betty Reilly (1953)
- Linda Joyce Johnson (1956)
- Joy Windsor (1957)
Wife No. 5 said in 1955: "Sorry I married him? Not a bit. If I marry
again, I'd like to marry a fellow exactly like Charlie. He's a
fascinating man and certainly not a bore. In fact you never knew what
was going to happen next. But being a musician he was on the road a lot
and we really didn't get a chance to establish a home. It just wasn't
conducive to a good marriage."
Bonus fact: In researching Charlie Barnet, I stumbled across the sad story of vocalist Ann Richards,
who married bandleader Stan Kenton in 1955. She won the Downbeat poll
as the No. 1 band vocalist in 1956, but left her career to be a mother,
rejoining the band in 1961. After divorcing Kenton, Richards married
William Botts, although she later separated from him. It was Botts who
discovered her body in the bedroom of her Hollywood Hills home in 1981.
Unable to find work after she ended a 10-year engagement at the Bel-Air
Hotel, Richards shot herself in the head, leaving two children, Dana
and Lance Kenton. Richards was 46.
(You may recall Lance Kenton was arrested in 1978 in a scheme to kill
attorney Paul Morantz, who won a lawsuit against Synanon, by putting a
rattlesnake in his mailbox).
Here's some Charlie Barnet.
And some Stan Kenton.
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Dave Pell swings at the Shrine Auditorium.
Buddy Rich plays the Valley, May 14, 1957
Click here to see Buddy Rich and Gene Krupa.
No story here. I just like the ad. This is now the site of the Jackie Robinson VFW.
April
30, 1957
Los Angeles
Some anonymous Times writer had fun with this story about the Exotic Dancers
League. There are all sorts of gags about baring grievances, making motions
and getting things off their chests.
The story says the "gals" wanted to "bump" their weekly pay to $100 a week
($716.53 USD 2006), then they began "grinding" out complaints. And of course they were outnumbered by the press: nine dancers and 20
reporters.
The Times said the organization, headed by Jennie "The Bazoom Girl" Lee, wanted heaters in the
dressing rooms. The group was also trying to impose rules on mixing with patrons
of strip clubs and sought to limit dancers' performances to three a night. And
to raise money? A strip-a-thon.
Here's an ad from the Mirror that was considered too racy for The Times. Look
who's appearing at Strip City, Western and Pico:
Redd
Foxx.
Here's a clip from "Sanford and Son."
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me
April 27, 1957
Los Angeles
I have somehow managed to miss out on coverage of the "Headdress Ball" staged every year by
Las Floristas in which women wear the equivalent of Rose Parade floats on their heads in a fundraiser for children's charities.
Here's how they looked in 1957 in the newly renovated Cocoanut Grove at the Ambassador Hotel.
Above, Times society columnist Christy Fox, left, has a demure tiara while serving as TV announcer while Mrs. John M. Foley Jr. (recall that in the 1950s, married women had no first names), center, wears "Love Is Crown Jewel" and Mrs. James Powell displays "The Imperial Jewel."
And yes, they're still being given.
Here's
the link to coverage of this year's event.
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April
22, 1957
Las Vegas
Nils
T. Granlund, 1950s TV personality and master of ceremonies at Hollywood's
Florentine Gardens through most of the 1940s, was killed in a car accident on
the Las Vegas Strip, ending a flamboyant career described in the 1957 book
"Blondes, Brunettes and Bullets."
The man nicknamed "Granny" and
"N.T.G." was taking a cab from the Riviera Hotel and died after the taxi was
hit by a driver who refused a blood-alcohol test, The Times said. Granlund was 57.
His casket was covered with flowers and a ribbon that said "To Granny From the Girls," a tribute to a man responsible for the careers of Jean Wallace, Lili St. Cyr and especially Yvonne De Carlo, who claimed his body and arranged
the funeral at Forest Lawn Memorial-Park in the Hollywood Hills
Here’s an interview I did years ago with the late studio publicist Bob Rains
about N.T.G.
In 1946, International Pictures, that I had started with, released a movie called “Tomorrow Is Forever,” which starred Orson Welles, George Brent, Claudette
Colbert, Natalie Wood, and a young kid called Richard
Long.
NTG in those days had a radio show on the Mutual Network, KHJ, and somebody called the studio and said they’d love to do an interview with him because he had a great story about the way he was
discovered.
He lived in the Valley and was a student at Hollywood High School, and he was hitchhiking from the Valley to
Hollywood High.
And one day he was picked up by a man by the name of Jack
Merton, who was a casting director for International Pictures. And they got to
talking. He says, “What are you doing?” and he says “I want to be an actor.” He
says “Great, call me some day, we may have something for you.”
Richard never called. About
three or four months later, it was pouring rain, Merton picks up the same kid,
it’s Richard Long. He says, “Call me!” He called him and that’s how Dick Long
got started with International Pictures when I was there. This was in 1946.
Anyway, the picture’s coming out and NTG heard about it. He called the studio, and wanted to interview Dick on his radio show on KHJ. I think it was the whole network then.
We said fine. I was then
involved in that. And he said well I’d like to meet him beforehand. In those days, 1946, it was live. I said fine, so we set up a meeting at NTG’s house on
Fountain Avenue [Note: It was really Franklin--lrh]. It was east of Vine Street, a great big place. And we were
supposed to be there at a certain
time.
We got there a few minutes early and rang the door bell, and a very voluptuous, beautiful young
lady opened the door. We introduced ourselves and she said “NTG isn’t here
right now; come in and
wait.”
So
we went in. And I don’t remember—we didn’t drink; we had some soft drinks or
something—and we waited for about half an hour.
During this time, one after
another after another of the most beautiful young ladies walked through the
room we were waiting in. All introduced themselves, all said they were his
secretary.
Finally NTG comes and we do a
nice interview, preliminary and all that. Somehow he says, “Do you want to see
the house?”
I said yes, so we have a tour
of the house. And we walk in one room, there is this immense bed. I don’t
recall the size, maybe 10 by 20, it was the biggest bed I’ve ever seen, twice
the size of a king size.
And I said to him, “How come
you got this big bed?”
He said, “Well we all live
here.”
I said,
“who?”
He said, “My secretaries; we
all live here.”
I says, “Well do you all sleep
together?”
And
he says yes!
And we went on a few days
later on KHJ, which used to be on Melrose, and Dick did the
interview.
It was an amazing… man with a
great appetite. But imagine … four, five, six of them of the most beautiful
broads you’ve ever seen … sleeping in the one bed. And every time they came
through the room, … I'm so and so, glad you’re here. Period. It was quite the
experience.
Note: Muzzy
Marcellino, former bandleader at the Florentine Gardens, used to joke
that N.T.G. stood for "Not Too Good."
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me
In 1957, saxophonist Dave Pell was the leader of the Dave Pell Octet, the house band at the Crescendo on the Sunset Strip. He recently reminisced about performing there with comedian Lenny Bruce. Pell performs once a week with Johnny Vana's Big Band Alumni at Los Hatos in the San Fernando Valley. Lenny Bruce died Aug. 3, 1966, at 8825 Hollywood Blvd. at the age of 40.
Well I was lucky, very lucky. I was there for five years and Lenny was there for almost the same amount of time. It was one of greatest moments of my life. He was quite a man. Incredibly funny, loving, kind, sweet... all the things that nobody ever knew about him. Nobody took the time to know about him. He was really a lovely guy, a lovely man, a funny man. We had a guy named Jack Sheldon in the band. Sheldon was the phenom of our time. A very funny cat. He and Lenny were dear friends. They used to do crazy things together.
We were a Be-Bop band that played for everybody.
Gene Norman (the nightclub owner) ... says: "You have a home here... Stay as long as you wish." It was the time where Mickey Cohen used to hang out at the club. He used to have his boys there. They were dear men. As big as gangsters as there ever were. He loved Lenny. He was their favorite of all.
We played for all the acts. Johnny Mathis and we played for the Mills Brothers and, you know, people of that nature. People played the club with us.... Lenny was in and out of jail every other day. He was there.
Then the narcotics people were hanging out. They were dear friends. They were after the guys selling to the band and Mickey was there every night. With Lenny there; he was changing the show every night and the band was absolutely loving it. Most comedians worked to the bands because they gotta hear the same material night after night. If they could make the band laugh then they knew they were funny... Lenny played to us. He and Jack Sheldon would do dialog together.
 Lenny would say: "Did you see Mickey's here tonight?" We'd be on the floor. A very hip band: Marty Paich on piano, Mel Lewis on drums, Buddy Clark on bass. It was the best band in town by far. We'd play the dumb Mills Brothers. We're playing "You Want a Paper Doll." Playing almost back to Dixieland and playing it straight. And Bobby Darin. Just an incredible thing.
The funniest thing. Lenny Bruce and Jack Sheldon decided to go on the amateur hour.... Do an Al Jolson song. Something was all set up and they'd play it and wear black makeup. They did the show... it was a car dealer that had the show ... I wish I could remember. On Sunday morning... Jack and Lenny were going to be on and we were all set up to watch it. (This was apparently Compton car dealer H.J. Caruso, who was indicted on charges of forgery and grand theft in June 1957).
They got on. They didn't do the show they auditioned with. It got a little dirty and funnier and funnier and Lenny is yelling "Caruso is a thief!" "He doesn't give good deals on cars!" They couldn't get him off soon enough. They said, "This isn't the way they auditioned." They finally figured out it was Lenny Bruce.
I never got over that one. Funniest thing that ever happened with the band.
Every night, Lenny was a magnificent mind. If he took off, we had Mort Sahl. He would do a half-hour on Lenny Bruce. And they put him in jail and he'd try to behave. He got put in jail 50 times because they were trying to clean up the nightclub circuit.
Just the greatest time of our lives. Lili St. Cyr, a beautiful lady. Harry Betts was a trombone player with Kenton. He said, "Well you know she has this one little piece that needs a violin." So we made him bring a violin. He played a solo behind her (Pell hums something from Tchaikovsky's "The Nutcracker"). Lenny would come up just to see the guys laughing... He didn't play the violin well. She was dancing with all these lights. She was never naked, she wore a skin thing. We weren't going to see nothing. Lenny Bruce made so much of it. God he was funny.
Between sets, they turned over people so fast, we'd go downstairs and play poker for an hour.
Johnny Mathis was doing seven or eight shows a night. People were around the block. Gene Norman had signed Johnny Mathis 10 months before he had a hit. He comes up with all his hits in one short time.... He was working for $350 a week... around the block crowds are waiting to get in. We would do a fast 20-minute or 30-minute show and the next one would start. They'd empty the house and do another one.
And of course Lenny ... He'd say: "I can't be very funny tonight I'm down to 10 minutes." So hip and so sharp... and I look back. Damn that was fun. Lenny was a marvelous cat and got in trouble and couldn't handle it and died very young. His wife a very nice gal and a homemaker and tried to make him straight.
Jack Sheldon and Lenny Bruce. Jack almost started his career with Merv Griffin... doing comedy. All the timing he got from Lenny....
Five years. We had a ball... a lot was happening then.
When Lenny Bruce was downstairs, Mort Sahl was upstairs. When Lenny had to go to jail we got Mort Sahl... He'd read tabloids, and then do a show.
It was sensational. Edie Gorme, all the good singers. Everybody who was hot at the time was there with us. Marty Paich, in 1957 he couldn't have been over 21 years old. Marty turned out to be one of the most successful jazz and big band arrangers of that time. We had him and Shorty Rogers and we never had the same band two nights in a row. The deal was you could take off any time as long as I approved the sub. We had record dates so there was a different band every night....
Bobby Darin says, "The band is sensational. It's the best band I ever had." He comes in the next night, it's totally different. "The band is sensational." Half the band was back the third night... He says "Dave I can't handle it. I can't kid with the band, it's never the same guys twice." They're playing for scale, so I say, "They can take off anything they want as long as they are the top guys." The best band I've ever had....
Those things were so much fun... That whole club situation....
The club was on Sunset in the Playboy Building.... and then we were right at the middle of the strip. Across the street was Ciro's, right across the street. Little nightclub on the West Coast. Ben Polack (?) had a Dixieland club that ran strippers. He had a good Dixieland band. Great players. We'd play the opener or closer. "Mountain Greenery."
He booked smart in those days, three or four shows a night....
It was a great home for me. I was working at a record company during the day. It would be the Dave Pell band and I'd be at a record date. Gene Norman and I went to high school together (so that wasn't a problem).
It was a record company. I'd record in the afternoon and rush over to play the first gig at the club. I'd be tired but had a such a good time... such an incredible time. Not a dumb gig at a nightclub, it was the hit nightclub and Lenny being there with us killed us.
It was the funniest thing going day by day. Mickey Cohen.... Lenny would come and play to them. Call them the stars of the government.... highest government officials in town and Mickey Cohen... everything was so cool.  I used to be in the record business. Sold them in the supermarkets for 99 cents. I'd record "Dave Pell Plays Benny Goodman," "Dave Pell Plays whatever." I must have made 50 albums, "The Best Songs of Italy." I'd go to England for a couple weeks and record 20 albums. Put them in Kresge, Woolworth, the same albums but change the songs on each one.... It was the beginning of the compilation disc.
I'd have 75 string players over in England. The albums were gorgeous... The label was TOPS records... I put out 20 other labels for everybody else. Everybody had their labels. You'd go into Sears and there'd be a rack near the door. I sold millions. People never had to go to the record store.
I'd work at night.. Edie Gorme would come to sit in. People didn't realize it was her. Didn't recognize her... They'd wonder who is singing with the band? 
It's marvelous, at 10:30 every Tuesday morning... at Los Hatos at Balboa and Nordhoff... They can't get in the joint. Oversold every Tuesday morning. We play till 12:30. The band is excellent... Johnny Vana's Big Band Alumni... Everybody played with the big bands, Stan Kenton, Buddy Rich.... producing a new album we did live a couple of weeks ago...
Lots of bands out there... They say we're the Glenn Miller Band, or the Harry James band. All picked up for the night. They sound fair. This band plays all the bands... We have a great band... One of the guys got sick, so they asked "Pell, would you like to play?" Love to. I don't have to set up, don't have to bring mikes. Just sit in the band. I love it.
The other day they gave me a red tie that I can keep so when I play around town I don't have to borrow a tie... It's a good band.
A guy came in and recorded it... We only get a one-hour set and then a 20-minute set. He figured he could do an album in two days... The album was almost really done the first morning it was so good. It was fun and we go out and do the shows and the band is very happy. We call it a rehearsal, so the guys can keep their chops up.
Lots of clubs tried to do that but they don't seem to get the crowds that this thing does. People still really want to dance, do the jitterbug. It's not rock 'n' roll.
Sound clips courtesy of Davepell.com
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Larry Harnisch. The leading Black Dahlia expert and a collaborator in the 1947project, Harnisch has been a copy editor at The Times since 1988. He has appeared on many TV shows discussing the Dahlia case, notably "James Ellroy's Feast of Death."
Join him for a spin through old Los Angeles in the Mirror's radio car. Keep your eyes open for Mickey Cohen and Tempest Storm. It's quite a ride.
The reporter's badge belonged to Sid Hughes (1908-1958), legendary reporter who worked at nearly every newspaper in Los Angeles.