Four years later Red has been unable to shake off his melancholy. He sits by the hour in his garden rather than go into the house, which holds too many memories. Though he’s earned enough to make him a millionaire, he has gone through so much money—diamonds for Georgia, gifts to friends—that he has been compelled to sell the $3,500,000 TV studio he bought in hopes of becoming a big producer like Desi Arnaz. His health isn’t good, he sleeps poorly. Yet before the cameras or on a night-club stage, he’ll work hard enough to break his heart—and put a chip or two in yours.
* * * * *
Mickey Cohen had another friend among the comics in Jerry Lewis, whom he tried to set up as producer of Red’s movie life story. Jerry was another who lent Mickey money: $5000 with no security “because he needed help.” In his Martin and Lewis incarnation, Jerry came from playing night clubs in Philadelphia, where the majority of clubs are controlled by Frank Palumbo, no stranger to the racketeers.
When Dean and Jerry first appeared at Slapsie Maxie’s in Hollywood, every studio in town tried to sign them. It was Hal Wallis who succeeded. Incidentally, in their days together, Dean and Jerry had an admirer and occasional companion in the junior senator from Massachusetts. In show business language, they found John F. Kennedy was a square John who seldom caught on when they were kidding him. Jacqueline hadn’t yet come into his life. The girl he was most gone on was Helen O’Connell, who delivers warm jazz with a genteel air.
Before Dean and Jerry could start work for Hal Wallis in movies, they had some more night-club dates to fill, including one in Philadelphia. They were joined in that City of Brotherly Love by the actress wives of two of our better-known Hollywood personalities, one of them a woman who had dragged her patient husband to Slapsie Maxie’s night after night to ogle Dean. If you can prevent catastrophe, you’re bound to give it a try. So when I found out what was going on in Philadelphia, I went to see Hal Wallis.
“Unless you nip this in the bud,” I said, “you’re going to start your first Martin and Lewis picture with a couple of divorces to contend with.”
Hal was petrified. “What can I do?” he pleaded.
“Stop it before the news gets out.”
He called his partner, Joe Hazen, in for consultation. “How would you handle the situation?” they both asked.
“Telephone the boys right now. Tell them that unless those women get out of Philadelphia immediately, you’ll cancel the contract. And tell them why.”