The Man Who Died Laughing (17 page)

Hoag:
I understand you had an affair with Jayne Mansfield.

Day:
Connie told ya, huh? She was a sweet kid. Hottest new piece in town. Everybody wanted her. For a while, I had her. And I felt, for a while, a little bit fulfilled. Until Connie threw me the fuck out. That’s when Wanda started to give us trouble. Stopped doing well in school. Got very quiet. Didn’t want to be around me anymore at all. I figured God was punishing me for fucking around. We put her in a special school. Sent her to a shrink five days a week. She just kept getting worse. Anyway, Connie and me decided I should move back in. Give Wanda as stable an environment as possible. So I did. So one morning we’re having breakfast, and I’m complaining to Connie about not wanting to go to the studio, not wanting to work, and it hits me.

Hoag:
What hits you?

Day:
This isn’t Sonny Day. If Sonny Day is unhappy, he should do something about it. I needed to stretch. It took me a long time to realize that. See, people were constantly telling Gabe to branch out so he wouldn’t be hanging on to my coattails. But nobody ever said that to
me.
This was a breakthrough for me. I started tummeling an idea with Norman Lear. It was a kind of satire on Madison Avenue, but it was a real statement on modern morality, you know, with depth and sophistication and a message …

Hoag:
This would be
The Boy in the Gray Flannel Suit,

Day:
Warners thought it was brilliant. But they said, where’s the part for Gabe? I said there isn’t one, and they said put one in. They wouldn’t let me do it by myself. They also wouldn’t let me take it elsewhere. I was under exclusive contract—
with
Gabe. There was nothing I could do. Studios still ran things in those days. So I got drunk. Then Norman and I put in a part for Gabe. And guess what?

Hoag:
He didn’t want to do it.

Day:
He said it was stupid and one-dimensional. He wanted us to do a big musical, a
Guys and Dolls
kind of picture. Only, that didn’t interest Warners. Or me. He ended up by doing one on Broadway. And he was a smash. But my little movie he wouldn’t touch. The studio said to him, you don’t do this picture, we’ll make it without you. Give Sonny a new partner. Which they did—they gave me a kid named Jim Garner. I made him into a star. Anyway, it was a standoff. Gabe wasn’t bluffing. Warners wasn’t bluffing. They gave him a few days to think it over, but it was over. In the meantime, we kept on the happy face. Connie threw me a huge birthday party here at the new house. Must have been three hundred people. She invited Gabe and Vicki and they came. We hadn’t socialized in ages. And what a performance Gabe put on. All hugs and kisses. Even got up and made a birthday toast. He said, and I’ll never forget this as long as I live, he said, “Here’s to my best friend, Sonny Day. The man who gave me everything.” We hugged. He sang me our song, “Night and Day.” Henry Mancini played the piano. Then we sang it together. Everybody sobbed, it was so fucking moving. Nobody knew we was gonna bust up. Nobody but Heshie. The rest of them, the industry people, they thought Gabe would back down. Not even the wives knew.

Hoag:
So Gabe was really the one who ended it? It was his decision?

Day:
That was one helluva birthday party. We drank and danced and sang and cried. Next day, Knight and Day was history.

Hoag:
Next day you had your fight at Chasen’s.

Day:
Yeah.

Hoag:
You’re saying it had to do with
Boy in the Gray Flannel Suit.

Day:
That was part of it.

Hoag:
What else was?

Day: (silence)
There was bad blood.

Hoag:
It was alleged in the book about you,
You Are the One,
that the fight was over your gambling debts. That you sucked Gabe into debt with you.

Day:
That’s not even worth discussing.

Hoag:
At the time, you said the book was garbage. Now is your opportunity to refute it.

Day:
All right, all right. Sure, I got in money trouble from time to time. So what? Gabe got in deep with his divorce. I bailed him out. He bailed me out.

Hoag:
I see.
(silence)
Sonny, there’s also been an allegation concerning Connie. That she was …

Day:
She was
what?

Hoag:
That she and Gabe Knight were lovers. Secretly, and for a number of years. And you found out about it. And that’s why the two of you fought.

Day: What?
Where’d you hear that crap?!

Hoag:
It isn’t important.

Day:
It’s a vicious lie! No truth to it. Who told ya that crap?

Hoag:
Sonny, I know this isn’t easy for you to deal with. I understand. But you’ve got to deal with it. I’m going to ask you again—is that what the fight was about? Be honest.

Day:
What, you think I’m lying?

Hoag:
No …

Day:
Then why’d you say that?

Hoag:
I’m simply trying to get at the truth.

Day:
You
do
think I’m lying. I can see it in your eyes. You don’t believe me. You believe some lie somebody told ya. Just like that, the trust between us is gone. This is something. This is really something.

Hoag:
Don’t do this, Sonny.

Day:
Don’t do what? Get sore at ya? Wanna punch ya? For slandering my wife. For saying she’d fuck around on me with that …

Hoag:
I’m only doing my job.

Day:
Stirring up garbage? No. Forget it. I won’t discuss it.

Hoag:
You must.

Day:
Or what? You’ll print your lies anyway? Don’t try to bully me, pally. I been bullied by the best, and they’re still picking up their teeth all over town.

Hoag:
Sonny, I’m not the
Enquirer.
We have to deal with this thing. Get it out in the open. Now, you mentioned to me once that Gabe broke your heart. Is this how? By sleeping with Connie?

Day:
Turn off the tape. This interview is over.

Hoag:
All right, then let’s address ourselves to the fight itself. It took place at Chasen’s the afternoon after your birthday party. What happened?

Day:
Turn it off, damn it!

Hoag:
Sonny, we’ve done a lot of good work so far. Won a lot of battles. But this is the big one. I know it’s tough. It’s hard on your ego, your pride. But you’ve got to take it on. We have to deal with it.

Day:
You’re not dealing with anything, pally. You sure have knocked me for a loop. After all we’ve been through, the love I’ve given you. …

Hoag:
I’m fired again, right?

Day:
Clear out. You’re through. And that’s no lie.

Hoag:
I see.
(silence)
You know, I
do.
I really do.

Day:
You see
what”

Hoag:
Just one more question and I’m out of here—how did you figure to get away with it?

Day:
Away with
what?

Hoag:
Not telling. I mean, this whole project has been nothing more than a publicity stunt, right? You wanted to get some attention, revive your career. You even made up the death threats. The truth is, you were never going to talk about the fight. You figured … hell, what
did
you figure? You’d get
more
publicity for clamming up? Is that it?

Day:
You’re dead wrong, Hoagy. I acted in good faith. I just can’t do it. Don’t you understand? I thought I could. Now that I’m face-to-face with it …

Hoag:
Face-to-face with what?

Day:
I made a mistake. I’m a human being.

Hoag:
You’re a master, is what you are. You suckered everybody. The publisher. The newspapers. And me. And that’s the part that hurts, Sonny. See, I came around to your side. I started to think there was more to you than all that bad press you’ve gotten through the years. I cared about you. And you’ve been wearing your mask this whole time. You’ve been working me, just like I was an audience in Vegas. Giving me what I wanted. Using me.

Day:
You’re wrong about this, Hoagy. Believe me.

Hoag:
Why should I?

Day:
Because I’m telling you the truth, damn it.

Hoag:
Tell it to somebody else. Put an ad in the paper: “Wanted—one stooge. No experience necessary.” That’s what you need. That’s what you’ve always needed. Good-bye, Sonny.

(end tape)

I
T WAS STILL WINTER
in New York. The raw wind off the Hudson cut right through my trench coat when I got out of the cab in front of my apartment. Old, sooty snow edged the sidewalk.

My apartment was even smaller and dingier than I remembered it. I gave Lulu her dinner and her water and slumped into my easy chair. There was unpacking to do. Bills to pay. It could all wait. I wasn’t in the mood.

Lulu was down, too. She only sniffed at her mackerel before she curled up on the sofa with a disagreeable grunt. There, she glowered at me.

I couldn’t just sit there. I decided to take her out on the town. I changed into a black cashmere turtleneck, heavy wool tweed suit, and oiled hiking shoes. I got out the fur-lined leather greatcoat I bought in Milan. Then I found my cap, my gloves, and my walking stick and we headed out. It was night. There was noise and activity and energy out there. Enough to get lost in. We headed down Broadway. I strode briskly. Lulu waddled along beside me, her low-flying ears catching bits of the sooty snow. Down around Lincoln Center I discovered a Tower Records that hadn’t been there before. We went in and browsed. I treated myself to several Erroll Garner albums. Then we headed over toward Central Park West.

It’s a very small town. Just like that we found ourselves standing right across the street from the very building we used to live in. The windows with their $895,000 view of the park were all lit up. Zack was no doubt throwing her a little welcome-home bash—something smart and trendy and assholey. Lulu whimpered. She wanted to go up and say hello. I growled at her and started downtown. She didn’t budge. I yanked on her leash. She still didn’t budge. I yanked harder. I won. I’m bigger.

At Columbus Circle we cut east along Fifty-ninth Street and made for the Racquet Club. I wrote a check for all of the dues I owed and left Lulu in friendly hands at the desk. A masseur worked me over for an hour. Then I sat in the steam. Afterward, flushed and relaxed, I led Lulu down Park to Grand Central. I resisted the temptation to swing over to Madison and look in Paul Stuart’s window, knowing I’d end up blowing whatever settlement I got from Sonny’s publisher on clothes. It wouldn’t be enough for another Jaguar.

At least I had learned something from this experience—I wasn’t cut out to be a ghost.

We stopped in at the Oyster Bar for a dozen bluepoints and a Bloody Mary. Then it was over to the Algonquin. The maître d’, who has a veddy English accent that he came to by way of Bensonhurst, greeted us like old chums and gave us a corner table. Michael Feinstein was doing a nice quiet Gershwin medley on the piano. A split of champagne sat neatly on top of the oysters. So did the prime rib and the médoc. As always, there was a little cold poached salmon on the side for my girl. It perked her right up.

Strangely, I was thinking about Wanda. I hadn’t said goodbye to her. I should have, but my feelings were still too jumbled. It wasn’t as if anything had awakened down below. It hadn’t. She was crazy, no question. Still, she wasn’t a bad person, and she sure as hell wasn’t dull, and I sure as hell wasn’t happy sitting here by myself.

I had a big slab of chocolate cake, coffee, and a Courvoisier. I thought about a second Courvoisier. Instead, I got a cab, had it drop us at the liquor store around the corner from my apartment, and I bought a whole bottle of the stuff.

It was sleeting now. Some of it landed on Lulu’s nose as we headed home. She snuffled at it and speeded up the closer we got to our door.

The Courvoisier and the Garner went down very well together. I sat back in my chair and let them have their sweet way with me, the sleet tapping against the kitchen skylight, Lulu dozing in my lap. I particularly liked the way he handled “I Cover the Waterfront.” It fit my mood. Blue.

The Elf and the sleet were still tapping away a few hours later when I drifted off there in my chair.

The phone roused me at about four a.m. Someone was sobbing into it. I guess I don’t have to tell you who.

“Can’t
stand
it, Hoagy. Can’t stand the pain.”

“So take an aspirin, Sonny.”

“Not that kind of pain. And you know it. It’s … it’s …”

“It’s what?”

“I lost your respect. Can’t stand it.”

“You should have thought of that before you got me involved in your sham.”

“Don’t do this, Hoagy. Don’t shut me out.”

“Sonny, it’s the middle of the night.”

“I know. I know. Sitting here in the study. Looking out at your plant. Got a floodlight on it. Just sitting here.”

“You been drinking?”

“Some,” he admitted. “You?”

“Some.”

“So whatta we do, Hoagy? Huh? Whatta we do?”

“We go to bed. In the morning, we wake up. You get on with your life, I get on with mine.”

“Mine seems awful empty, Hoagy.”

“Yeah.”

“Come back, Hoagy. Come home.”

“I
am
home.”

“We could tummel some other ideas, huh? A movie, maybe.”

“Forget it.”

“You can have your old room back.”

“Sonny, my life is here. I have a career to get back to, such as it is.”

“So write your next novel here. Stay as long as you want, huh? We can still have breakfast and talk and—”

“Sonny, I’m hanging up now. Good-bye.” I started to put the phone down.

But then he blurted, “We can talk about the fight.”

I stopped. “About
what?”

“The fight with Gabe. My fight with Gabe. We can talk about it.”

“You’ll tell me?”