Hold the Roses (23 page)

I must say, Johnny Mercer and I worked hard on that number. Every
night in Boston, he would come in with new lyrics for my song-every
night! Change Round 2 to Round 3, take lyrics from Round 1 and put in
Round 3, like that. Me? I would try to learn them while I was making up
and do them that night to see if they worked. Johnny was amazed that I
could learn them that fast-but hell, it was my song and I wanted it to be
the best I could make it. It proved itself opening night on Broadway. Phil
was nervous.

I said to him, "Stop it, we've done this for eight weeks. What are you
nervous about?"

He just said, "Shut up-if I wanna be nervous, I'll be nervous!"

I laughed and walked away. Everybody was on edge, and I was feeling
fine. I was starting to get worried because I wasn't nervous. I always think
of Ethel Merman when it comes to nerves. She once told me, "I never get
nervous. I know what I'm going to do. The audience should be nervous,
they don't know what they're gonna get!" I've never forgotten that.

The rest of the show was a smash. Phil's elopement scene got such big
laughs, I saw people taking out hankies to wipe their eyes. Truly, it was a
gem. The duet stopped the show. It was called "A Word a Day." You've
heard of fractured French? This was fractured English. It's one of the most
brilliant lyrics ever written.

The show was over: standing ovation, whistles, and bravos-it was
delicious! We went to Sardi's to wait for the reviews. Marlon Brando was
there, and he became a part of the group. He sat down with us and was just
wonderful.

After reading the reviews, Brando said, "You must be very proud stopping the show twice in one night."

I said, "I've worked all my life for that!" He gave me a kiss on the
cheek and got up and left.

We were running into a rather comfortable routine. I stayed at my
mother's and drove into work every night. Bobby would come in every
second or third week. My mother always had a little something to eat for
me when I returned after the show. One night I went home and was setting the table when I heard, "Hello, Mommy." It was Noopy in the doorway, with Bobby standing behind her. I was so surprised. He said, "I think
she should be with you." So she stayed with me.

The first time I took Noop to see the show was a matinee. I told her
to sit still on the high stool and not to say anything. She was wonderful,
and she loved the show. Phil fell in love with her. She was always in his
dressing room. He told me, "I can't walk around in my dressing room. She
comes in and says, `Pheeel."' Then they'd hug and I'd have to go and get
her. By the time she'd attended her fourth matinee, she was an old hand.
Knew every song, every scene. She was unbelievable.

When we took our final bows, the cast would come out in sets of two
or three. I was next to last and then Phil. One day I took my bow and we
waited for Phil. When he came out, the whole audience went "Ahhhh." I
looked around-he had Noop by the hand. We all took our first bow. The
curtain came down and up again for the second bow. Phil said to Noop,
"Hold on to my hand" and he did the bit he did in the elopement sceneNoop holding on and doing what we used to call the "hand bit." The
audience went wild, applauding even louder and laughing.

When the curtain finally came down, Phil picked up Noopy in his
arms and said to me, "Remember: I was the first one to put her on a stage."

I said, "At the Winter Garden yet!"

We settled into a routine. I was home all day with Noop and my
mother until I had to go to the theater. On matinee days, I took Noop
with me and she always wound up in Phil's dressing room, telling him,
"Pheeel, today we'll do the hand bit after I take my bow, okay?"

Phil would laugh and say, "Okay, Noop."

What I didn't know was that my mother was teaching her to sing
"Top Banana"! I only found out when The Sam Levinson Show called and
wanted Noop for his show. Sam Levinson was a schoolteacher who had
become a stand-up comic and had gotten his own TV show. It dealt with
celebrity kids who had problems with their parents.

I called and asked someone at the show, "What do you want her to do?"

"She'll have a problem with you."

"Oh really?" said I, "And what kind of problem is that?"

"Oh, she'll say she likes to take a bow."

I said, "Well, that's true. Is that all?"

"Yes. Sam will talk to her and ask her what her problem is and she'll
say, `I like to take a bow.' Sam will make some comments and that's it."

I said, "I'll have to ask her if she wants to do it."

"You're going to ask a four-year-old if she wants to go on TV?"

I said, "Yes, if she doesn't want to do it, she won't do it, so I'll call you
back."

I asked Noop if she wanted to do the show and she said, "Oh yes, and
I'm gonna sing `Top Banana' too!"

I told her, "You have to learn some script lines."

She said, "I can do it, and I'll sing `Top Banana."'

Well, I was floored. I looked at my mother and said, "Did you teach
her `Top Banana'?"

My mother said, "Of course, and she'll do the Durante walk-off!"

Well, need I say more? My mother had her second chance at showbiz
with her granddaughter!

The script arrived, and it was very short-thank God. Sam would
say, "What's your problem?"

And Noop would say, "My mommy thinks I'm a big ham!"

Sam: "Why does your mommy think you're a big ham?"

Noop: "Because I like to take a bow."

Sam: "You mean after you sing or dance?"

Noop: "No-I just like to take a bow!"

Then he'd have her take a bow and that was it. So I rehearsed her on
the lines, not really knowing if she would do them.

On the day of the show, my friend Gerri Danna did her hair. I bought
Noop a cornflower blue organdy dress with yards and yards of skirt. It was
adorable. My brother and Marion were in Jersey for a visit, so my brother
Frank, Gerri, Noop and I went into New York for the rehearsal. Sam
Levinson was a warm, friendly kind of guy. He immediately fell in love
with Noop and took her into his dressing room to talk to her.

He asked simple questions like "What did you have for lunch?" She
would answer him. Then he'd throw in a script question and she would
say, "What?" She'd take a breath and then she'd answer by the script. He
thought that was great. I wasn't so sure. So we went in to rehearse and she
did the same thing. He'd ask her a question, she would say, "What?" take a
breath, and answer. So we went through that all right.

Then she said, "I wanna sing `Top Banana."' I almost died.

Sam said, "Go ahead."

So she started, and the band-not knowing the song-just added
the bass, drums and piano for a vamp kind of thing. Then at the end, she
went into a 4/4 tempo and did the Durante walk-off. The band died, so
did Sam and everybody in the studio.

The band leader said, "We'll give her a keynote."

I said, "Fine," and we left to get a bite to eat.

My brother was so nervous, he kept going to the bathroom. I said,
"What's the matter with you?"

He said, "They're gonna give her a keynote for the song. What if she
starts in the wrong key?"

God, I never thought of that! Gerri was fussing with her hair. I said,
"Leave her alone, she'll get nervous." Of course, I was a wreck. I knew she
had a good ear, so I just prayed.

The time came for the show. Sam introduced her and she walked
onto the stage like Phil Silvers-hands swinging and straight up. Phil had
taught her to walk like that on stage.

Sam said, "Who's your mommy?"

And she said, "Rose Marie," and out I came.

He went on to the script and said, "What's your problem?"

She said, "What?" took a breath and said, "My mommy thinks I'm a
big ham."

Sam: "Why?"

Noop: "Because I like to take a bow."

Sam: "You mean after you sing or dance?"

Noop: "No-I just take a bow."

The place went wild. Me? I was crying. I knew Bobby and his mom
were watching it in California, as well as my mother in Jersey. I'm sure
everyone was crying. Then she said, "I wanna sing `Top Banana,"' and the
trombone player gave her a keynote and she hit it right on the nose and
went into her song. At the end she slowed down to a 4/4 beat.

"Ya gotta start from the bottom up," and did the Durante walk-off. It
was terrific. Sam thanked us, we went off stage and my brother drove me
to the theater and drove Noop and Gerri home to Jersey. Phil Silvers and
the whole cast had seen the show in the theater and Phil said, "She was a
sensation." I said, "Yeah, but In a wreck!"

In 1955, 1 was working at the Chez Paree in Chicago. I got a call from Harry Zevin, who had been the stage manager when I did Top Banana. He asked me if I wanted to do a play called Lunatics and Lovers, by
Sidney Kingsley, with Zero Mostel and a cast of great actors: Neville Cooper, Marjorie Lord, Casey Adams, Pamela Britton, and John Golden. I
told him to send me a script. He said it was to play in Los Angeles at the
Carthay Circle Theatre for four weeks.

With Zero Mostel

I read the script. It was a straight comedy. I had never done a straight
play.

Bobby said, "I don't think you can do it. You have no song to fall
back on. It's just a straight comedy, and you would be playing a femme
fatale. No, I don't think you can do it."

He certainly knew how to push my buttons. I said, "Oh, I think I can
do it," and I accepted the show.

Zero Mostel was considered the toast of Broadway, having appeared
in Fiddler on the Roof, A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum,
and Rhinoceros. He received a Tony Award for each of those shows. He was
a brilliant actor, as well as a great comic. He also did Shakespeare!

I met him before he became such a big star. He was doing a stand-up nightclub act. He was booked into the La Martinique Club in New York
and again I was called to open for him. I guess I opened for every comic in
the business. Maybe that's why I became a comic-so somebody could
open for me!

We met at rehearsal. He was kind, funny, and very nice to me. He
suggested we do some kind of finale at the end of the show. I said, "Fine, I
love finales." We decided to do a jitterbug dance. It was fun and the people
loved it. I think we played four weeks there.

Even though I was quite young, I had heard lots of rumors accusing
him of being a Communist. He never mentioned anyone who was rumored to have Communist leanings when we would talk or have a cup of
coffee together between shows. He was a very intelligent man, and I enjoyed listening to him talk.

We got great reviews for the four weeks we played the Carthay Circle,
so much so that they decided to make a small tour of it. We went to Tacoma,
Portland, and Seattle. Pamela Britton, Marjorie Lord and I stuck together.
We shared a dressing room at each of the theatres in which we appeared
and got adjoining hotel rooms in each town. The guys in the play were
wonderful. Zero called us "the three broads." Zero was sensational in the
play and such a pleasure to work with.

We played San Francisco on the last leg of the tour and that was that.
Zero went back to New York and continued being the toast of Broadway.
It was a great experience working with him.