Hold the Roses (18 page)

Bobby said, "That's her business. If she wants to do it, fine; if not, fine.
It's not my decision. Me? I'm a trumpet player. Ask me how to hit high C, I
can tell you. It's her business, talk to her!" This was Bobby's answer whenever
people tried to get to me through him with regard to work.

Bill continued, "Abbott and Costello are doing a hospital tour, and
they want you-$2,750 a week for two weeks. I'm sure you can use it.
Think about it. Call me."

I said again, "Bill, I have no gowns or music. I can't do the hospital
tour, so tell them I can't make it."

Bill said, "Okay, but think about this, honey, I think you're making a
big mistake if you don't start taking some of these dates. Slapsie Maxies [a
big nightclub in Hollywood] called. Sammy Lewis wants you for two weeks,
$2,750 a week. This date is in October, so you can get your gowns, and if
needed, have new arrangements made."

I said, "I'll call you. Bobby and I have to talk. It's not as easy as you
think."

So we left and drove home. Neither one of us said anything going
home, but once we were inside, I sat him down and said, "Listen, Pap. He's
right. I could be making good money. We can get all the things we need
sooner and we can stick our five fingers to our nose in five years. But I'm
also telling you: They're gonna call you `Mr. Rose Marie,' because I'll be
making more money than you, even though you're working and doing as
much as you can. If you know what we're doing and I know what we're
doing, then we can make it. What do you say? It's up to you."

During my first club date at Slapsie Maxie's nightclub, Los Angeles

As always, his answer was, "I'm with you, Mommy. And nobody will
ever call me `Mr. Rose Marie,' but you'll always be Mrs. Guy." He was so
right. Nobody ever did call him "Mr. Rose Marie." He knew how to handle
it. He was always the man of the house, and everybody knew it. It was a
wonderful combination, and it worked for twenty years.

I told him I would call Max and find out about my gowns. When I
got Max on the phone, he said, "Your father was here and wanted your
gowns. I wouldn't give them to him. They're your gowns. You paid for
them. So what do you want me to do?" Bless dear Max.

I said, "Send them out to me. I might be doing some dates."

He said, "Good. Don't let your father stop you. Are you happy?"

I said, "Oh, Max, it's heaven on earth-Bobby's so good and wonderful and he's doing great." I told him about all the shows Bobby was
doing.

Max said, "Good, and if you need anything, let me know. I have your
dress form here and I can still make your gowns."

"Oh, Max, that's wonderful. I probably will need a couple of new
ones as soon as I start making some money. Meanwhile, I'll use the three
you made. Just ship them out to me." I gave him the address, told him I
loved him, and hung up.

Bobby said, "What about your music?"

I said, "I don't know. What do you think?"

Bobby thought for a minute and said, "Bill Fontaine has been making arrangements for the Kyser band. I think he could do it. You know
your music by heart and you can sing them to him."

I said, "Great! Call him."

So that was arranged and that's how everything worked out. Bobby
took care of the music department. He got the books for the music and got
me the best arrangers. It was a perfect combination.

Of course, I couldn't do the hospital tour with Abbott and Costello,
but I did take the Slapsie Maxies date. It was good money, and my first real
chance to show Hollywood Miss Rose Marie, rather than Baby Rose Marie.
Jerry Lester was the star, but somehow the reviews all raved about me. One
headline read, "Rose Marie, We Love You." I was thrilled.

On opening night Durante was there. After I did the Durante number,
he jumped up and said, "I don't know which one of us is me!" The place
went wild, and I got a standing ovation. Standing ovations were not as common then as they are today. It was truly a great night. Lots of stars were
there-Danny Thomas, Phil Silvers, George Burns and Gracie Allen, and so
many more. It was wonderful. I had finally made my mark in Hollywood.

The next day everybody called and gushed about the reviews and
congratulated me. Bill Loeb was there, of course, and he called me the next
day to tell me that he had been right-I was great. I felt marvelous. Bobby
was so proud-he always was. He was my greatest booster. So I began the
two-week gig. Bobby came down almost every night he didn't have to work.
I, of course, started buying linens, dishes, pots and pans. I started my own
trousseau.

Pokey and his wife came back into town and wanted their house
back. So Bobby and I had to find a place to live. We found a little house in Burbank at 1114 North Evergreen. It was already furnished, but it was a
start. Bobby used his G.I. Bill loan. I think the price was $12,500. So little
by little, I'd throw out the sofa and get a new one; throw out the table and
get a new one. I decided that my house was going to be done in the Early
American style.

We were so excited and happy. Little by little we did the house. Bobby
painted-he was no painter, but at least he tried. I met some of the wives
of the Kyser band: Mickey Gunkler, who was also a new bride, and her
husband, Hynie; Gus Bivona and his wife, Ruthie; Perry Botkin and his
wife, Ginny. We all became very close. Bobby looked at Perry as a father
figure. They looked at us as kids. We had a ball. We had dinner parties,
played bridge, went bowling, and so on. It was wonderful.

One night at the club, I noticed that my dress was a little tight. I
couldn't imagine why. I wasn't eating that much. I told Bobby and he said,
"Why don't you go to the doctor? I'll call Janet, Ish Kabibble's wife. I know
she's probably got a good doctor." I didn't tell Bobby that my period had
stopped. Before I was married, it would stop for two or three months, but
I wasn't doing anything, so I didn't worry about it. I went to see Dr. Verdon
in Jersey before I was married. He told me once I got married it would
straighten out. It did, for two months, but then it stopped again. I didn't
think anything about it, but I went to see Janet's doctor. He examined me,
my first internal examination. It was awful.

I asked him if I was pregnant.

He said, "No. Do you get bad cramps?"

I said, "Yes."

"Then come into my office."

I went in. He took a book from the shelf and underlined a sentence
in the book, which evidently had many pencil markings on it as it was
ripped through. He said, "You have to have your uterus stretched." He got
on the phone and started to make an appointment.

I said, "Whoa! Wait a minute, I have to talk to my husband about
this."

He said, "My dear child, it's not a matter of choice, it's a necessity."

"Thank you, doctor," I said, "but I can't do anything without my
husband knowing about it."

I ran like hell out of that office and told Bobby what he had said. I
also told him that I didn't like the doctor and that I was not pregnant.

My gowns were getting tighter, and it had me worried. My mother wrote me a nice letter and told me that my father's heart doctor, Dr.
Edelstein, was now in Los Angeles, and that if I needed a doctor I should
go see him. At least I knew him, so I called and made the appointment.
What a different examination-it was like night and day. Dr. Edelstein
was gentle and kind-not like that other rotten doctor.

Dr. Edelstein said, "You find yourself gaining weight?"

"Yeah, but I eat a lot of junk food... potato chips, popcorn."

"Do you feel dizzy in the morning?"

"Yeah, but it goes away."

He said, "My dear child, you are two and a half months pregnant!"

"Are you sure?"

"Oh yes, dear, but we'll do a test to be very sure." I found out that I
could have lost the baby if I had followed that other doctor's advice! I
couldn't wait to tell Bobby.

He was working at NBC, doing Bing's show. Frank Sinatra was the
guest. I drove up and parked right in front! Frank came out first.

I ran up to him and said, "Frank, you're the first to know. I'm pregnant!"

Frank said, "Does Bobby know?"

I said, "No, not yet."

Frank said, "I'm gonna wait and see how he reacts when you tell
him."

So we waited about three or four minutes and Bobby came out, gave
me a kiss and said, "What did the doctor say?"

I said, "The rabbit died."

Bobby said, "What?"

"You're gonna be a father. I'm two and a half months pregnant!"

Bobby said, "I'll be a son-of-a-bitch!"

Frank said, "Is that all you're gonna say?"

Bobby said again, "I'll be a son-of-a-bitch!"

Frank said, "Come on, Bobby. Wake up, say something nice. Your
girl's gonna have a baby."

Bobby: "I'll be a son-of-a-bitch." Then he grabbed me and kissed
me.

Frank started laughing and said, "Congratulations, honey." He hugged
me and kissed me on the cheek. Then he hugged Bobby.

My pregnancy was the happiest time of my life. I only gained about eleven
and a half pounds, wore most of my own clothes, and went everywhere
and did almost everything. We got involved with dog shows and Bobby
judged a lot of them. He became an expert on boxers, so in time, we were
breeding boxers. We had sixteen boxers at one time. It was a whole new
world, but it was fun. However, I wasn't used to large dogs. I wanted a
small dog. Bobby got me a purebred Scottie from Carnation Farms. He
was adorable. His full name was Carnation Vindicated-we called him
Sam. I even showed him in a big dog show and he won!

November rolled around, and I got a call from Bill Loeb about playing Las Vegas. A new hotel called the Flamingo was opening. Xavier Cugat
and Jimmy Durante. I certainly didn't want to turn that down-to work
with Jimmy. I was thinking we could even do a little finale at the end. Of
course, I had played with Cugat at the Colonial Inn in Florida. I had it all
figured out in my mind. The money was great: $2,500 a week. I okayed
the date and found out that "Bugsy" Siegel owned the Flamingo. "The
boys" again. I had never met Mr. Siegel, so that would be interesting. I
could get away with my gowns, even though they were getting tighter.
They wanted to open December 24.