In spite of, or maybe because of, the dollars that come arolling in, Doris is neurotic about her health, which can cause mighty big problems for a Christian Scientist. When she was sure she had cancer—she was wrong—she put off going to a doctor in case she would be betraying her faith. Her brother Paul, who was going to be her manager on the recording side of her career, was a convert to the same faith; he died of a heart condition in his early thirties.
Both the Melchers keep a tight hold on their money. Their social life scarcely exists beyond having an occasional couple in for an early dinner—carrot juice in place of cocktails and desserts from Doris’ celebrated home soda fountain. She also holds on tight to the clothes she gets from her movie roles. When Irene Sharaff, who designed her Midnight Lace outfits, wanted to borrow one coat to be modeled on the Academy Award night where Irene won an Oscar nomination, she had the devil of a time borrowing it—and it had to go back to Doris the next morning.
As for Al Levy, he had one more bit of business to sort out with Marty Melcher. Century Artists’ client list was shrinking as Marty concentrated on Doris, and the decision was made to sell the agency to MCA, who would latch onto anything in those days that promised to increase their holdings in the industry. There was just one cloud on the legal title when the time came to close the deal—the contract Doris had once insisted that Al sign with her.
“It doesn’t mean anything now,” the lawyers told Al Levy. “So just let us have a release before the first of the year.”
“If it doesn’t mean anything, let’s forget it,” he said, by this time deep with David Susskind in Talent Associates, the television production company that Al founded the day after he sent the locksmith and Marty’s relations on their way.
But the lawyers insisted that something had to be done to satisfy Lew Wasserman, president of MCA, that Century Artists was in the clear. “All right,” Levy told the attorneys, “I’ve never asked Doris Day for anything in my life. Fact of the matter is, I put more money into her than I ever took out in commissions. So you give me a check for $3000 signed by Doris—it’ll buy a mink coat for my wife.”
He got the check and gave it to his wife. But Ruth Levy didn’t buy a coat. She put the money in their bank account.
1. At sixteen, in my first evening gown, made by loving hands—my own.